#and the obvious next question is ‘how much money are they willing to spend before they have this realization?’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yamahex · 2 years

Text

Explicit Pt. 3

Summary: Jack learns of your profession

Content Warning: 17+ Sexual Themes and Topics

A/N: Sorry for the wait, I swear the next part won’t be take that long again. I always promise shit will be more entertaining with the next parts. I hope it was worth it tho

“So what do you do for a living?” Your eyes widened and a cough escaped from your throat.

“Um, I’m a accountant.” Jack’s eyes squinted.

“A… accountant?”

“Mhm.” He took in the sudden change in atmosphere, it was obvious what was going on here.

“How’s that?”

“It’s ehh, not something I really want to do but…”

“Good money?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe… but anyways, how’s your life? What’s it like being The Jack Harlow?” He snickered.

“I mean shit, I be chillin. We just got off tour and we sold out every building.”

Your eyes widened and you leaned in close with intrigue.

“You probably had hella bitches on you.”

“Not really.”

“Boy stop lying.” He smiled brightly.

“You silly.”

“I’m just saying, you travel all over. You have endless options but…” He took notice of that.

“But what?”

“But you’re out with me.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

That was a good question. Why was he drawn to you?

“I just wanna spend some time on you, pretty girl. Something about you intrigues me.” The two of you held intense eye contact which caused your cheeks to flush. But the moment was interrupted by the waitress.

“Are you two ready to order?”

“Get whatever you want, it’s on me.”

“You really do like paying for stuff, don’t you?” His eyes scanned you.

“When it’s something I like, yes.”

The rest of the date was filled with flirting and sarcasm. And when it was over you were head over heels. The two of you stood outside the restaurant.

“Thank you, I had a great time.”

“The pleasures all mine.” He looked down at you with his shaded eyes and smiled as his hand gently rubbed yours. You looked up at him.

“As much as I wish the night could continue, I have some work things I gotta catch up on.”

“I see, duty calls.” He looked around at the dark environment. “Let me take you back home, just so I know you’re safe.”

You sighed, wanting to protest but your best friend dropped you off and you really didn’t want to walk home.

“Only cause you want to.” He snickered and led you to his car, careful to avoid any unnecessary attention.

He went to open the passenger which allowed some quick eye contact mixed with tension. You reached in your purse for your chapstick but dropped it when the sound of his driver door closing startled you.

After turning on the car, he looked at you with one hand on the wheel.

“So where am I taking you pretty girl?”

The drive back to your apartment allowed you to take in the glowing lights of ATL, with Jack stealing quick glances. Soon enough he pulled up to your apartment and you looked at him before getting out.

“Thank you, again. I had a really nice time.” His smile was bright.

“No problem, would you be willing to let me take you out again?”

“Hm, we’ll see.” You placed a quick kiss on his cheek before exiting the vehicle.

Jack watched you enter the building to make sure you were safe then pulled off. His thoughts immediately took over and his mind wandered.

“An accountant?” He leaned against his palm while his other hand was on the steering wheel.

You sighed after entering your apartment, that was the best date you’ve been on in years. Just the thought of Jack and his smile lit a fire inside of you. And you for sure would use it tonight.

You walked into your bedroom and picked out your set for tonight’s show. Tonight would be a good one, but first a shower.

“Hey there he is, Mr. Bigshot. How was your date?” Urban sat on the couch and watched as Jack entered the house.

“It was really nice for real, but…”

“But what?”

“I think she’s a sex worker.”

Urban coughed out with wide eyes.

“What makes you think that?” Jack walked up to the couch.

“ I don’t know man, she said she was an account.”

“Yeah so what?” Jack looked at Urban with squinted eyes.

“She’s a young, good looking girl. And she’s an accountant? Now adays most girls aren’t actually accountants, that’s just a code for sex worker.” Urban took a hit from his blunt.

“So you’re basing this off speculation?”

“Bro it’s not just that. Her body language changed when I asked her occupation. Almost like she was thinking of something to say.”

“I don’t know man…”

Your fingers reached out to start the live as the iridescent light glowed against your skin. Immediately the people started pouring in making you giggle.

Jack’s phone went off with the notification that you went live. He sighed and left the living room.

“Down Horrendous!” Urban chuckled.

Jack fell back against his bed while watching the live. His eyes took in your baby blue, lacy lingerie. The live had just started so you were waiting for more traction.

“ I got some big plans for you guys tonight.” Jack immediately sat up with his eyes wide.

“No fucking way.” Clearly he was hearing things right? There’s no way it’s been you this whole time. He shook his head and waited for you to speak.

“I’ll do a special request for the highest tipper tonight.”

He didn’t need to hear anymore, his theory was right. You were a cam girl. Not only that, you were the cam girl he jerked off to damn near every night. He snickered to himself.

“Accountant my ass.”

No wonder he was so intrigued upon meeting you, you were the one he was fantasizing about daily. His guilty pleasure. Now he had to see you again, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind. And with that, a plan popped into his head.

Your giggles could be heard from his phone as you slipped your bra strap off your shoulder.

“Let’s have some fun.” His hand traveled to unbuckle his jeans.

“Shit might as well.”

The next morning you were awoken by your best friend jumping on you.

“Jesus!”

“Get up bitch and tell me about your date with Jack.” You sighed and fell back on your bed.

“So that was it? Nothing else happened?” She leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Girl no, it was the first date. What kind of lady do you take me for?”

“The kind that has a only fans and is a cam girl.” You stared at her with a plain face.

“Alright bitch.”

“I kid, I kid.” Suddenly a ding from your phone cause your attention.

“Let me guess, it’s Jack.”

“Actually it is. He said I left my chapstick in his car then asked if I wanted to meet up to get it.” You turned back to look at your friend, a smirk was evident in her face.

“You clever bitch. You left that shit on purpose didn’t you?”

“No.”

“Mhm.”

“Anyways he’s gonna stop by in a hour.”

“And I’ll be here to watch you two love birds.”

You walked downstairs to meet Jack at his car. He leaned against it with his hands in pockets, looking fine per usual.

“If you wanted to see me again you could have just asked, didn’t need to leave your chapstick pretty girl.” He held it out to you.

“Ha ha.” You took it from his hand and your finger tips brushed against his skin.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. So, what’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

“Being a cam girl?”

To Be Continued…

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x you #jack harlow x y/n #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow smut

361 notes · View notes

pattywagon2go · 5 months

Text

Transit Talk Thursday

Transit Talk Thursday: If you’ve been around the transit space as much as I have, one common “criticism” that is lobbed at transit (especially trains) is “But the train doesn’t make a profit!” with the response from transit advocates being “It doesn’t have to make a profit”. But for someone not within the transit space, that sounds a little counterintuitive. "Why shouldn't transit make money?", you may ask. And that's a good question. I mean, why shouldn't it make money? Who doesn't like making some extra money, especially if the profit helps with a public service?

Before I explain why transit doesn't always make a net profit, I want to attempt to understand the argument of "Transit has to make a profit" so many people keep yakking about. As far as I can tell, the argument stems from how transit is almost always going to be a government owned and operated type of deal. There are exceptions, but that's out of the scope of this post. Anyway, in any place where capitalism is the main economic policy, there tends to be a desire to run the government as a private business, where it turns a net profit. And to turn a net profit, you have to, well, turn a profit through something you're providing, i.e. transit. Now, I won't get into the minefield of how government spending works, since I am not an economics guy, evident through how I have a life, but so far, this sounds simple enough. Just make the trains make money! How hard can it be?

Well if it were easy, this post wouldn't exist then, lol.

Note that this next section will be focusing on trains, but transit buses largely work the same way.

As many of you will be aware, trains cost money to ride. And on the surface, it may seem like it would be easy to just use the money you get from fares to fund the trains. And whatever leftover you have, you keep as profit. And in some instances, yes, you can indeed turn a profit from just fares. But that's not always going to be the case.

Obvious statement ahead, but everything in this world will have a cost. And with trains, that's no exception. Running a train from one destination to another will cost a certain amount of money to do so, such as the crew paid on the train, to maybe the fuel required to run said train. So if you want to turn a profit from fares alone, you're going to need riders for your train. But what if you don't have enough riders for a train to make running it profitable? You could just not run the train, but that leaves a lot of people without a connection from A to B, some of which won't have another option beyond the train. Okay, so if we can't cancel the train, how can we turn a profit? You only really have one option for that, and it will be to raise the fare price. If you raise the price of the fare, then hey, problem solved, right?

Not exactly.

This is going to be another obvious statement, but people don't like paying a lot for something. They would ideally want to pay as little as possible. So if we were to raise the price of our fares to cover for the trains we want to run, then this can easily turn some people away. Some may not want to pay over a certain amount for the train, no matter whether they need it or not. And then suddenly, we can't make a profit anymore! So what do we do now? We could raise the fare price again, but then more people won't be willing to pay. This continues until the fare is so expensive that no one wants to pay. Now we'll never make a profit at this point.

So raising prices to cover for the train isn't going to work, now what? Surely there's going to be another way, right?

Well, there might.

Let's say that the train already has enough people to be profitable on any journey it takes. Hooray! We don't have to raise the fare price now! This must truly be the best of times!

And indeed they are, but nothing in this world is perfect. What happens when ridership slouches? Then you're stuck in the death spiral I just described before. And you can never predict when ridership can slouch. It can either come from something like a network shutdown, to even something that just forces people away, like what happened with Covid.

Now, I'm not going to be stupid and say that transit flat-out can't make a profit, because it sure as hell can. Brightline is a big example of this, where its a private company that runs trains. Yet, how isn't it bankrupt? The answer is simple: Real estate.

Brightline's main revenue stream isn't from train fares. Rather, it's from real estate investments around their stations, as Brightline is owned by a real estate company. So in theory, this is the way to go, right?

Unfortunately, people who say "the train must make a profit!!!!!!!" will unanimously freak out if a government run service tried this business model, so good luck trying to appease them. And even so, this strategy really only works regarding land around a station, which is something a government owned service can do anyway. So what Brightline offers is something that can already be provided by a traditional public service.

And I might as well say it now, but there's a big layer of hypocrisy to this whole transit profitability argument when the same people who say that use these gigantic toll free highways which very damn well are NOT making a profit, let alone any money to begin with. But, y'know, let's not talk about that and instead just throw flack at transit for not making any money.

In conclusion, I just don't understand this argument about transit needing to make a profit. At it's core, it's going to be god near impossible to have them make some kind of extra dough, and even so, why should we be trying to extract money from a public service to begin with? It's a public service people, not some product you buy at the store! Oh and also, if you're gonna say transit should make a profit, also say the same thing for the goddamn highways! Those aren't nearly close enough to making a profit, yet you don't seem to give a shit about that! What gives?!

Sigh.

At the end of the day, transit is meant to help people get around, not hurt them by bleeding their wallets dry. Leave that for cars instead, please. Thank you.

#transit talk thursday

0 notes

gibbonscommercial · 11 months

Text

Drive Your Dreams: Discover the Perfect Used Trucks for Sale

Are you in the market for used trucks for sale in New Zealand at an affordable price? If so, congratulations! It's an excellent time to be shopping for a pre-owned vehicle. Many people are switching from cars to trucks these days and there's no better way to get around than driving one of these vehicles.

However, there is more to buying a used truck than just picking out your favourite colour or model. You have to make sure that it's in good shape, has all of the features you want and will last for years (or even decades) with proper maintenance.

To help you find the perfect used truck for sale, read on as we walk through some tips on how to buy a used truck with confidence:

Choose a used truck that's right for you.

When you're buying a used trucks for sale in New Zealand, it's important to choose one that's right for you. Here are some things to consider:

What do I need my truck to do? If you want a truck that's reliable, safe and comfortable enough for long drives with friends or family members, then look for one with good safety ratings (especially if kids are riding along).

How much do I want to spend? Cheap used trucks might not last as long as more expensive ones--but they could still be worth it if they fit into your budget. You also may want to consider whether insurance costs will be higher with certain models than others because of how often they get stolen or damaged in accidents.

What type of maintenance costs am I willing to pay over time? Some used vehicles require more frequent oil changes than others. Some have complicated transmission systems that make them harder on mechanics' time. Also, some require expensive replacement parts after only a few years of use.

Make sure your truck has the features you want.

The first thing to do is check the list of features to make sure the truck has everything you want. If it doesn't and you need a radio or air conditioning system, for example, then consider buying another used truck instead.

Next, look at warranties: How long are they? Is there an extended warranty available for purchase? Finally, take a look at what kind of mileage the vehicle has on it--the higher the mileage and age of your vehicle means more maintenance costs down the road!

Inspect the interior and exterior of the truck carefully.

Inspect the interior and exterior of the truck carefully. Look for dents, scratches and rust spots. Check for signs of wear and tear such as stains or odours. Inspect all parts of the interior for damage or wear, including door panels, seats and floor mats (if applicable).

Also inspect all exterior components including fenders, bumpers and tires for damage or corrosion that may not be visible at first glance.

Know what to ask when buying a used truck from a dealership.

When you're buying used trucks for sale in New Zealand from a dealership, it's important to ask the right questions. You should be able to find out if the truck has had any major issues in the past and what those issues were. You should also be able to find out how many miles are on the odometer and whether there are any current problems with it.

It may seem like an obvious question but make sure that you ask about any service records or maintenance history for your prospective purchase as well! A good salesman will have all of this information readily available for you before he takes your money so make sure he does!

When looking at warranties, don't just look at bumper-to-bumper warranties; also make sure that there is some sort of powertrain warranty available as well because those parts tend to break down more often than others (especially when they're older).

Conclusion

There's no doubt that buying a used truck can be an exciting experience. The process of shopping for one is a great way to learn about all of the different options available and find the perfect fit for your needs. Keep these tips in mind when choosing a used truck so that it will run smoothly for years to come!

Source URL:

https://sites.google.com/view/usedtrucksforsaleinnewzealand

#used trucks for sale in New Zealand

0 notes

sladebloodstock · 1 year

Text

WHAT SHOULD I KEEP IN MIND WHEN BUYING A HORSE FOR SALE?

When looking to buy Lonhro Horses For Sale, you want to make sure you're getting the best deal. You'll need to consider all of your options and make sure that any horse you buy will be right for you and your family. Here are some things to keep in mind when buying a horse:

THE NEED FOR A HORSE.

The first thing you need to do is decide exactly why you want a horse in the first place. Are you looking for a companion that will be around for many years?

Do you simply want an animal that can help you with your farming business? Or are you planning on using the horse as part of some other activity, such as rodeo or showing?

Next, think about what it is exactly you are going to do with your new horse. How much time and money are you willing to spend on its care and training?

What kind of general upkeep will be expected before riding can even begin (e.g., farrier visits)? While these questions may seem obvious at first glance, we have seen so many people fall in love with their purchase and only later realise how much work was involved!

A HORSE'S BUYING COST.

When buying Lonhro Horses For Sale, there's more to consider than just its price tag. The cost of transportation and stabling are also important factors to think about when purchasing a horse for sale.

When you're getting ready to buy your new pal, make sure you have plenty of money saved up in your bank account and be prepared for any unexpected expenses that may arise.

If you are purchasing your equine friend from another state, it's likely going to cost more than if you bought him locally—but not as much as one might think! Horse sellers can sometimes get away with charging exorbitant amounts because buyers assume they have no other option but to pay what is asked for.

In reality, however, putting on blinders has never been good advice—and we certainly don't recommend doing so when shopping around for horses!

YOUR POTENTIAL.

If you are thinking about buying Lonhro Horses For Sale, there are a few things that you need to consider.

First and foremost, should your potential horse be able to afford it? This means that if you don't make enough money to support yourself, then having another living animal may not be the best solution.

The same goes for your ability to take care of them properly. You may want a pony or a miniature horse, but if they require special food or care, then it would be wise to reconsider before buying one.

Finally, do not forget about riding! If you cannot ride, then having an expensive breed would only mean extra expenses in boarding fees while trying out different horses until finding one suitable enough for riding on its own merits (or lack thereof).

LONG-TERM POINTS OF VIEW.

When buying a horse for sale, you should keep in mind that the investment is going to be long-term. You need to think about the future needs of your horse. Horses like being trained, and they need regular exercise if they are going to live happily. They also need to be fed, watered and cleaned on a regular basis so that they can stay healthy. If you have ever had a pet dog or cat, then you will probably know how much time goes into looking after them!

Conclusion

This is the last thing to remember when buying a horse for sale. Horses have to be cared for and maintained, and so do you. If you can't afford to keep your horse, then it may not be worth buying one in the first place. You should also take into consideration what type of riding experience you have before purchasing any type of horse!

Source: https://slade-bloodstock.blogspot.com/2022/11/what-should-i-keep-in-mind-when-buying.html

#Lonhro Horses For Sale

0 notes

glowingbadger · 3 years

Note

I came running to ask for Diluc wedding night HCs for modern day.

If it seems relevant, I'll be relying on the general modern day hcs I wrote for Diluc semi-recently to guide this, so if folks wanna check that out, it's right heya

((There's actually not that much that departs from the in-game canon here now that I'm finished and looking back at it haha whoop))

Diluc x GN Reader

Modern AU - wedding night headcanons

SFW (nsfw below the cut)

- Okay, first of all, Diluc in a suit. I don't even know how to elaborate on this point, just, think about it for a second. Especially since, given his dignified bearing and that he comes from money, you can be sure it will be expertly tailored.

- As for the ceremony itself, he's likely to let you guide how you'd like the day to go, save for a few key details that he feels no reservations expressing his preferences about. Though these preferences are basically all in service of the two of you being able to enjoy the day as something special for the two of you. He wants a scenic, but very private location, and a small, intimate reception- though he's not shy about spending an undisclosed amount of money to make that reception as tastefully elegant as can be. Something like a rooftop garden in the city would suit him well.

- Throughout the night, he's plenty polite and amicable with guests, as only mutual friends and family (or "family," as it were) would be invited to begin with, but there's never any mistake that his focus is entirely on you. He habitually keeps a hand at your lower back or an arm around you through most of the evening, and will even make a brief but eloquently spoken toast to you, gazing warmly and steadfastly into your eyes as he speaks. He'll finish his toast by bringing your hand to his lips, without a shred of embarrassment or hesitation- exceptionally notable, since Diluc is generally not one for PDA.

- Well into the evening, you're both blissfully happy but terribly exhausted, so if you're amenable, Diluc will excuse you both from the festivities before it gets very late. Though, he'd fully anticipated that some of your rowdier friends would wish to continue their revelry late into the night, and so he'd reserved the venue well into the early morning ahead of time for their enjoyment. He doesn't wish to draw attention to this point, but you can tell in the subdued smile he wears that he's genuinely enjoying seeing those closest to him enjoying themselves so freely. And for once, he doesn't feel the need to sigh or roll his eyes at the less-sober among them.

- Diluc actually strikes me as the type to have your flight booked for the honeymoon scheduled to depart the very day after the wedding for some private but extravagant location. Of course, he's more than willing to take you absolutely anywhere in the world you'd like to go- no price tag is too high and no journey is too far. Few things make his heart flutter more than the idea of experiencing somewhere new and far away with only you by his side, now as his one and only spouse.

NSFW 18+ v

- When Diluc excuses the two of you from the celebrations a little bit on the earlier side, you understand wanting some space and some rest- but still, you cast him a questioning glance. He surprises you by showing a hint of an uncharacteristic smirk, then leaning close to whisper to you, "You will have to forgive me if I'm a little selfish with you tonight, my love." The low tenor of his voice makes it perfectly clear what he has in mind, and you suddenly find yourself eager for some time alone as well.

- The hotel suite is luxurious and romantically lit, with a breathtaking view over the sparkling cityscape from floor-to-ceiling windows- but Diluc's gaze is fixed solely on you. He cradles your face in his hands and kisses you deeply, his tongue moving slowly and sensually with yours until your knees feel weak. His touch is tender, but hungry- his desire for you obvious as he gradually helps you out of your lovely wedding attire. Diluc doesn't say much (he's generally not very talkative in bed to begin with), but there's something intense in his eyes, and you can feel his heart pounding when your hands run over his muscled chest.

- Listen, I know we already touched on this, but seriously- Diluc in a suit. The sight of him discarding the jacket and loosening the tie and buttons with the city light accenting his face and inch by inch of his body- ugh. It's too much- really classic "serious wealthy business man about to absolutely ravage you" material.

- Once you've both thoroughly enjoyed undressing together, periodically pausing for him to press your body to the window and kiss you breathless, or for you to run your hands over his toned torso, taking in the irresistible sight of him half-dressed- Diluc guides you to the bed at last. His fingers lace with yours, and he takes a moment to observe you bare on the bed beneath him. Finally, with his voice low and husky, he says what's been on his mind all night, "I never dared to think that I would be so fortunate. It's... almost overwhelming to think that you're truly mine."

- Diluc is always a thorough and generous lover, but tonight, he's somehow taken it to a new level. You won't have a single chance to catch your breath- his lips and tongue travel down your throat and chest, the center of your stomach, your inner thighs- everywhere. All the while, his hands caress you and hold you close as though he resents the smallest inch of distance between your bodies. The heat and friction are positively dizzying, and by the time you finally feel the stiff head of his cock pushing into you, you nearly cum from the feeling of him entering you alone. Gasping his name, your head tilts back on the pillow and your body arches up to him, and he holds you close, whispers your name worshipfully, and begins to slowly thrust into you.

- He kisses you far more than usual tonight. Not a moment goes by that he isn't either pressing his lips to yours, or nuzzling against your neck, marking your skin with passionate little love-bites. All the while, his hips roll against you, your bodies falling into a natural, erotic rhythm, until he's fucking you so nice and deep that your breath catches with every pass. When he feels you tighten and squeeze around him with your climax, he can't hold back any longer. His head dips down beside yours, fiery red hair tickling your cheek and his breath tickling your ear as he whispers his love to you and his own climax begins to take him.

- He'll pamper you as much as you let him for the rest of the evening- that said, it has been a long day, and you have a plane to catch the next day, so it won't be a terribly late night. Although, as an added "post-wedding-night" bonus, you can bet that Diluc will reserve a private jet for at least part of your travels, and he is more than happy to use the privacy to indulge one another several times over~

#diluc #diluc genshin impact #diluc x reader #genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #x reader #diluc smut #diluc headcanons #modern au #genshin impact headcanons

600 notes · View notes

shorkbrian · 3 years

Note

I swear I ain’t in it for the money, but I can’t stop thinking about sugar daddy shoto. Maybe he sweeps a cute little college kid or barista of their feet, just something fun and casual. But this man starts falling harder, needing a way to lock them down to him. Money isn’t quite cutting it anymore, so he decides fucking a baby into her would do the trick. Shoto would push her down into the mattress, large frame twisting her into a sweet mating press. This way they could stay together forever and Shoto would have absolutely no problem providing for his sweet family <3

but fr tho I feel like Shouto is NOT the type for kids.

Mans will tolerate them when they babble or wave at him, but he very actively Does Not Want them.

Always uses condoms, and even though he’ll threaten not to, it’s never a legit thought in his mind to cum inside. Shouto doesn’t want to be a dad.

-----

You’ll be sittin on a park bench, fading sunset dark and pretty in front of you yet all you can do is cry. There’s not really any people around so it’s not like you’re bothering anyone - you hadn’t wanted to cry in your shabby apartment (half the cause of your worries) just in case you received a noise complaint.

“Are you alright?”

A somber, smooth voice is heard. You’re swiping at your tears quickly as you look up, trying to laugh off your state of distress. “Oh, haha, yeah I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” It’s hard to smile with your puffy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

The man in front of you frowns, hands in his coat pockets, scarf draped around his neck. “You don’t look fine. Mind if I sit?”

He’s already claiming the spot next to you on the bench before you can say a word, turning to you with a passive expression. “Why are you crying?”

And that’s all it takes to have you breaking down all over again, tears streaming down your face. Just one person offering to listen to the heavy burden you have to bear.

‘’M sor-sorry...” You sob, wiping at your eyes with frigid fingers, successful in doing nothing more but smearing tears around your face.

“Here.” The man’s taking off his scarf, gloved hands offering it you.

“I ca-can’t use your sc-scarf sir.” But he’s insistent, pressing it into your hands up by your face.

“I’ll just get another one. Keep it, you’re in need of it more than I am.”

The kindness makes another fresh bout of tears roll down your cheeks, but this time you're able to dab them away with soft fabric as you sniffle.

It takes a moment for you to calm yourself. When you do, you can finally engage in conversation with the man.

You tell him about your job hours getting cut, how you’ve been turned down or ignored by every single place you’ve applied at for a second job. How you’re barely affording to wash your clothes - you have to hang them or drape them across things in your apartment because you don’t have the money to pay for a dryer cycle.

And to top it all off, you’re still short on rent, despite how you scrimped and saved and even forced yourself not to buy groceries this week - you’ve gone hungry for the past three days.

“You haven’t eaten?”

You glance up at the man and his incredulous expression, shaking your head. “I’ve been trying to save money, I thought I could afford my rent if-”

“What kind of food do you like?” The man is pulling out his phone, swiping and tapping immediately.

“Thank you, but I’m not-” looking for charity is what you want to say. Plus, you shouldn’t accept favors from strange men.

But the handsome man is waving you silent. “I’m cold, plus I’d like to grab a bite to eat before I head home. I don’t like eating alone though, you’d honestly be doing me a favor.”

You take a moment to process. Is he telling the truth? He sounds like an honest guy.

“Seems like the only place open around here is “Joe’s 24 hour Diner”.... You mind burgers?”

So that's how you end up in a booth opposite the man (”Shouto” he had told you as you both headed to the diner), munching away at warm food. It tastes so good, you hardly have time to worry about the man watching you as he eats.

You’d been shocked at his looks the moment you’d seen him in the light of the diner. Pretty two-toned hair, different colored eyes, perfect skin, expensive clothes. Why was he even talking to you? It’s obvious the two of you led very different lives.

“How does everything taste?”

“Delicious.” Is your response, and Shouto seems pleased, nodding before taking another bite of his meal.

Maybe it’s stupid... but you feel weirdly safe with this man. He doesn’t seem to bear any ill-intent towards you, nor has he made any comments about your body or let his hands or eyes stray. He seems like a gentleman.

Conversation flows easily between the two of you, even sharing a few chuckles at times. He’s some fancy rich businessman, you learn, and you share about your own life, laughing at the comparisons. Shouto can’t fathom growing up in a house with less than five bedrooms and a personal servant.

He asks for your number, and you’re hesitant in giving it - he surely can’t be interested in you? But he seems so sincere, it’s hard to say no.

When the two of you part ways, Shouto gives you a wave, “Hope to see you again soon, and under better circumstances.”

“You too! And sorry for being such a mess and stopping your walk-”

Shouto shrugs, cheeks beginning to pink from the cold air as you two stand outside the diner. “You needed help. I like to assist.”

-----

The next morning you wake to find an atrociously large sum deposited in your Venmo account by none other than a Shouto Todoroki.

Immediately, you’re calling him. “It’s too much, we just met. How can you give away that much money to some low-life?”

You hear him sigh on the other end of the phone. “You’re obviously struggling. I was wondering what your hours are this week, perhaps we could talk about this over dinner? Or lunch, if that fits better with your schedule. I’m flexible.”

It’s a few days later, days spent questioning yourself, questioning his intentions, before you see him again, both of you deciding to meet for lunch to further discuss... whatever had just happened.

“Was what I gave you adequate to cover your rent?” Are the first words out of Shouto’s mouth after you greet each other.

“Yeah, more than enough-” You squirm. “But I need to ask.... why?”

“Why?”

“Why me.”

“Oh.” Shouto’s expression clears. “That’s easy. I told you a few days ago - I like to assist. I’m quite lonely, and it feels nice to use my money on someone other than myself. I think providing for someone brings me... I wouldn’t quite say joy, but... contentment.”

You contemplate his answer for a moment.

“Well... you saved me with my rent, I don’t really know how to thank you.”

The man leans forward. “Well.... I know it might be a bit sudden, but how would you feel accepting me as a.... benefactor of sorts?”

“You mean like a sugar daddy?” Is your immediate, blurted response. You want to slap yourself for speaking before you have the chance to think about your words, but luckily Shouto just lets out a light laugh.

“If you’d like to call it that. I’m willing to provide financial assistance for you, in exchange for companionship, if you’re willing to give it.”

Your face heats up as you drop your eyes, fidgeting nervously in your seat. “I don’t feel comfortable with a... a sexual relationshi-”

“That’s perfectly acceptable.” Shouto cuts you off before you can continue. “I wasn’t trying to insinuate a contract of that nature. I’m thinking more along the lines of accompanying me at meals, sharing experiences with me, providing company and friendship to a lonely man. If it seems that we’d like to progress further than that after we get to know each other, well, that will be addressed then. For now-” Shouto meets your eye, dipping his head a smidgeon so he can look at you directly. “All I ask for is a simple, non-intimate bond between two people.”

This is crazy.

And yet you accept.

The situation may be wild, and completely absurd, but you’d be a fool not to say yes.

Shouto is charming and handsome, respectful, courteous - you could go on and on about his positive qualities. He just seems like a sad, lonesome man swallowed by work and responsibilities, too stressed and busy to put the effort into making friends the conventional way.

-----

Months pass by.

You’re eating at every meal, sated and never going hungry. You’re able to move into a new place, one that doesn’t smell like cigarettes and sits right next to a railroad.

Clothes aren’t a worry anymore, you have your own washer and dryer in your new apartment (Shouto offered to buy you a house, or a penthouse at the least, but you couldn’t justify it to yourself). You’re able to afford new things, and pretty dresses, shoes that are comfortable and fashionable and that fit.

You no longer have to wear clothes down until they have holes in them. You’re able to go to the doctor’s when you feel sick, able to pay for health insurance.

Life is good.

Shouto is a personable man, serious, but he can be rather funny and even crude at times.

The doubt and thoughts of “Why is he doing this for me?” and “I’m not good enough for this.” plague you, but Shouto always seems to catch on, reassuring you that you’re exactly what he needs - a friend.

And you’re more than happy to be that.

You think sometimes, that even if he wasn’t paying you, you’d still like to be friends with Shouto Todoroki.

Until he starts acting weird.

“You should just stay at my place. I have more than enough room,, it’d be easier for both our schedules. We’d get to see each other more often.”

“Uhm...” You don’t really know what to say. You like your freedom, and having your own place where you can walk around in your (expensive) underwear without being bothered.

“I think it’d be nice, don’t you? We could have breakfast every morning, you wouldn’t have to worry about traveling to and fro, we could spend more time together. We don’t see each other nearly enough.”

He’s pushing, insistent. How are you supposed to tell him no? He’s paying for your entire life. Plus, it wouldn’t be that bad to actually live with him. Shouto’s an amicable man.

So you move in.

“I bought you a few things, they’re on your bed.”

Shouto’s striding into the kitchen where you’re making coffee, buttoning up his shirt as he comes closer. You’ve found that the man likes to sleep in nothing but boxers, shrieking and flushing an embarrassing shade the first time he’d come to wake you up with a sweet “welcome” breakfast in bed.

It’s taken a while to adjust, but you finally feel that you’re fully settled in.

“Oh, you really don’t ha-”

“I wanted to. I went through your closet - your clothes are nice, but your underwear seemed to be lacking.” He’s so matter-of-fact.

All you can do is stare at the back of his head.

“Could you pass me a spoon please?”

-----

Shouto had splurged on expensive, fancy lingerie.

At least eight different sets were laid out on your bed. It was overwhelming. It also felt.... a bit intrusive? They were all in your size, in a complementary color for your skin tone.

Weird.

Not as weird as the onset of Shouto’s casual touches.

You’d be reading, or drinking tea and watching cars race by on the street so far below, and Shouto would come up behind you, caress your sides before intertwining his fingers with yours on one hand. He did it as if it was a normal thing, but it felt anything but normal.

Or you’d be on the couch together, and Shouto would shuffle closer until his large body was pressed to yours, almost curled around you. The faux-cuddling was a bit more off putting. How do you tell him no?

The touches became more and more intimate, Shouto’s gifts more and more frequent until you weren’t even spending a penny, the man taking care of everything.

The arrangement was beginning to make you uncomfortable.

Shouto’s bi-colored eyes seemed to always be on you, tracing the shape of your body, watching you move, or breath, or sit. It was distracting, and you felt bad for feeling this way towards the man who’d pulled you out of poverty, but it was so unnerving.

He seemed to notice.

“You’ve been so stressed these past few days. Is something wrong?” Shouto’s rubbing a hand into your shoulder, hovering over you at the dinner table.

“No?” Is all you can manage, wiping your hands on your napkin as you finish your food.

Shouto frowns. With a sigh, his hand drops from your shoulder and the man leaves your side, heads toward the kitchen.

You clear your plate from the table, following after him so you can wash it and put it in the dishwasher before you head off to get ready for bed.

But Shouto is rummaging in a cupboard, pulling down two wine glasses to accompany the bottle of wine that’s standing proud on the island. It’s your favorite, a sweet wine that Shouto knows you like, always brings it out when he decides to drink whisky or bourbon after dinner.

He pops the cork and pours you a glass while you finish with your dishes, handing you the glass when you turn away from the sink, pressing it into your hands. “Let’s relax a little bit, it’ll be good for both of us.”

You’re fine with that, knowing that a little wine won’t hurt you, especially when it’s of such fine quality. You’d never dreamed that you’d be able to taste such richness in your lifetime, spend frivolous amounts of money on wine and fine eateries. Yet here you are.

Shouto pours himself a glass, barely a sip filling the bottom. The man raises it to his lips and takes a swig, grimacing a bit in his flat, unexpressive way. You giggle a little.

“Too sweet?’

The man nods, setting the glass back down. “I’m not entirely sure how you can stand to stomach it. But if it makes you happy-” He shrugs, before pulling on of the bar-stools out from under the island so he can sit facing you, long legs stretching out before him.

You look at him, and he looks at you, and then you take another sip of wine to avoid the awkwardness.

“You’re distancing yourself from me.”

The accusation is quiet, Shouto’s eyes focused on your fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass.

He’s always been straightforward with his words. “Is there a reason you keep drawing away?”

The wine disappears from your glass, sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You fill your glass again before speaking, struggling to find the right words without upsetting your... benefactor.

“Well, Shouto... I don’t really know how to...” You trail off, hoping Shouto will say something, change the subject, say it’s alright and move on to something else.

But the man stays silent, eyes appraising you.

Taking a deep breath, and another gulp of sweetness, you try again.

“Sometimes the closeness... like, physical closeness? Makes me, well, uncomfortable.”

Hopefully, that would satisfy his curiosity for now. That wasn’t the only reason you’d been avoiding Shouto seeming distant, but you didn’t think sharing the others would result in anything good.

Said man accepted your response, dropping his eyes to his lap as he mulled it over. More wine was consumed, glass re-filled. You felt nervous.

“You’re saying that my touch isn’t something you’d prefer.”

Biting your lip, you soften at his confused expression, at the hint of sadness swimming behind his eyes. “Kind of. I don’t mind you Shouto, you’re really kind, and you’re good company, and a wonderful friend. I just don’t think the.... the intimacy is for me.”

Shouto raises his head, stares at you with those pretty eyes, lips parted as he comes to terms with your words.

“It sounds like you don’t trust me. I would never hurt you, you know this.”

You scramble to assure him. “I do! I do trust you, and I know you wouldn’t.” (at least you hoped) “But I guess I just... Coming into this agreement I wasn’t ready for that type of... thing. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

The man rises, shakes his head as he steps closer to you. “Don’t worry, I remember our first conversation about that aspect. I see that for you, that type of relationship would only begin after you really cared for the other person, trusted and wanted to see them happy, am I correct?”

“Oh, Shouto-” You rush. “No, I care for you, and I trust you, and of course I want to see you happy. I think it’s just, y’know, my last relationship like that went really bad, and it sucked. I don’t want to go through that again.”

Shouto nods, understanding. “I see. You don’t have to worry about any of that with me then.”

A smile crosses your face, and you feel relived that he accepted your rejection with grace and understanding instead of violence or anger. “Thank you, it means a lot to me.”

The mood of the room shifted, from tense and uncomfortable, to easy and light, and you poured another glass of wine, laughing a little at how worried you were about the conversation with Shouto, only for it all to turn out fine.

“I’m going to go drink some of the liquor that’s kept in my room. I could mix a few drinks for you to try, you might like how sweet they are. I know hard alcohol isn’t quite your thing.”

You beam a smile, nodding your head eagerly. Before, you’d feel apprehensive about going into his room with him to drink alcohol. But with the conversation the two of you just had, you knew - things would be fine.

-----

The room was spinning and you felt giddy and light. You were definitely tipsy.

“You can lay down on my bed, you’re getting wobbly on your feet.” Shouto had offered, and you’d gladly accepted, flopping down onto his comfy bedspread with a laugh at how the motion made butterflies rise in your tummy.

Shouto leaned against his dresser, swirling whiskey in his glass as he watched you, a half-smile across his face. You smiled back, before closing your eyes, a little bit tired as you realized that you might be a bit more than just tipsy.

Shouto had mixed quite a few drinks for you, and you’d drank each one eagerly, impressed with how little alcohol you could taste in each one. You don’t remember how many you had, but it didn’t really matter.

The next thing you know, hands are on your waist, scooting you further up the bed so your legs no longer hang off the edge. Cracking open an eye, you’re met with the visage of red-and-white, eyes soft and warm as they regard you, Shouto’s face tinged a bit pink from the few drinks he had consumed. The man had never been too good at holding his alcohol.

When those hands started to slip beneath your shirt, you wiggled like a little worm, not really comprehending the situation. Maybe it was a dream.

Your shirt was discarded, then your pants. It felt much more comfortable now, and you mumbled a “thanks” to the man helping you settle for bed. He was so nice, Shouto took such good care of you. You still kind of couldn’t believe the turn your life had taken with him, the good luck pushed into your path.

Someone was kissing you.

With a grunt of surprise, you kissed them back, meeting their feverish pace and trying to keep up, soft lips puckering and pushing against your own with intent. Kissing felt good. You liked kissing.

Then a hand was cupping your face, stroking tenderly over your cheek before it began sliding down, down your neck, into the valley between your breasts, trailing over your bra. It felt funny.

Pushing back for air, you gasped when the hand on your chest started squeezing at you, eyes flying open with the startling, sudden sensation.

Shouto was hovering over you, lips puffy, panting as he stared at you with lusty eyes, an uncharacteristic look on his face. This... this wasn’t supposed to be like this. You knew. Hadn’t the two of you just talked about something... important? Was it important?

You didn’t feel panic until a hand cupped your sex, feeling your skin through your panties.

This wasn’t right.

Alarm bells were ringing, dull and far away, but you didn’t think that Shouto should be touching you in such a way. you should be going to bed.

“Mm, Sho, can you stop?” But your words felt funny on your tongue, and Shouto didn’t stop. Maybe he didn’t hear you.

His hair tickled your chin as the man bent to mouth at your tits, pulling the cups of your bra underneath them so he could feel your hot skin, let his saliva drag slick and wet against your chest.

Your hands instinctively rooted themselves in his hair as you gasped again, not expecting such a move, tugging lightly at his head to pull him up. Shouto just groaned, teething gently at your breasts and not moving an inch. His hips were grinding against the bed though, as he stood between your spread legs.

Before you knew it, your panties were gone, bra clumsily unclasped and discarded, and you were completely bare. Shouto was undressing before you, struggling with the buttons on his shirt before giving up, easily ripping the fabric of his body with one tug, grumbling.

You didn’t feel so tipsy anymore.

“Shouto, what’re we doing? We shouldn’t be doing this, we need to stop-”

“Stay down.” Was his firm command, a hand splayed across your naked chest and pushing you back into the mattress as you tried to sit up. It made you breathless, the growl in his voice, the dominance emanating from the man. You stayed still.

“This’s gonna make us a stronger couple.” The man slurred, eyes dark and hands wandering, effortlessly keeping you pinned against the bed as he ground his hips forward against the edge. You were getting scared.

“Wait-”

You fell silent as one hand pushed down his pants, his underwear going with them, pink cock bobbing free. He was so pretty down there, and it made sense, all of him was pretty, but you suddenly realized the weight of the situation, what was happening.

“Shouto, no, oh my god. We gotta stop right now, we’re drunk, we’re-we’re-”

“Don’t care. Not gonna let you hide away from me this time.” Shouto shook his head, taking his cock in one hand and giving it a long, slow pump, flushed tip weeping precum and wetting his hand.

“No, no, this is wrong. I don’t want this, I could get pregnant!” You cried, beginning to panic for real, pushing against the one strong hand anchoring you to the bed.

Shouto just chuckled, letting go of his cock to crowd against you, getting up in your face to press a wet finger to your lips, the salty taste of his precum threatening to slip into your mouth unless you kept it shut. “Shhh, shh. If you stay nice and still, if you do what I say, I’ll use a condom.”

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“You’re gonna listen to me, you always do.” The man nodded to himself, once again dragging his cock against the bed between your legs, as if he couldn’t stop himself. “Or else I’ll fuck you raw.” The finger was pulled from your lips, only to be wagged teasingly in your face.

You couldn’t believe how he was acting.

“Be nice.”

Shouto tapped your nose with a neatly manicured finger, before groaning as he heaved himself upright, red cock bobbing against his stomach, desperate for attention. The man gave you a look, as if to say “don’t move” before he took his hands off you, heading for his dresser.

Once you saw him pulling out a strip of condoms, you were on your feet, stumbling toward the door.

Although panic had sobered you somewhat, you were still struggling with the effects of the alcohol, so your reaction time was maddeningly slow. Slow enough that you weren’t able to truly fight against Shouto when he grabbed you from behind toned arms wrapping around your middle and heaving you into the air, only to throw you back on his bed.

You were almost sick on the bedspread, world spinning and stomach protesting, but you were able to calm yourself.

But then Shouto was on you, flipping you onto your back, a soft hand pressing against your throat threateningly.

“You want to have a baby? Want me to cum in you so you’ll get all fat with kids? Hm?” He was so intense, almost choking you, straddling your waist and keeping you pinned. It was too much

You were able to manage a tearful, desperate “No!” despite the hand around your throat, and Shouto backed off, releasing the pressure to instead stroke his hand against the sides of your neck.

“Stop acting like this, it’s the next logical step for us. You said you cared for me, wanna make me happy. This’ll make me happy. I won’t be like the last guy.”

His cock was pressed against your stomach, and you could feel it twitching. Shouto clambered off of you, letting go of your neck so he could grab the condoms he’d tossed on the bed before snatching you up.

“Do what I say and I use these.” He waved them in your face before tearing one off, beginning to open it.

You stayed still, gazing at him blearily, limbs feeling fuzzy, mind feeling the same.

The condom was rolled onto Shouto’s cock, the man spitting into his palm and giving the latex a few rubs to make it slick before reaching for you.

He dragged you to the edge of the bed - the perfect height for him to fuck you - and you didn’t fight, terrified of his threat. You couldn’t stand the thought of a baby.

(You didn’t know, but neither could he)

“Wanted to do this since I met you.” Shouto mumbled, pushing your panties to the side with a few fingers so he could guide his tip to your hole. “Want you so bad.”

You didn’t know what to think of this side of Shouto. This unreserved, uncareful, slurring mess of a man that loomed before you, gaze dark and wild, limbs everywhere as he groped and squeezed and appreciate the shape of your body.

But he must’ve gotten impatient, because then he was pushing inside.

It hurt, stinging pain rippling up your back and you keened, causing Shouto to pause. One of his hands darted down to wrap around your calf, hauling it up on the bed so he could lean forward and press it to you chest, sinking his cock a few inches deeper.

“You’re gonna take it.” He hissed before messily kissing you, pressed so close together that it was hard to breathe. “I’ll make it feel good after you do.”

2K notes · View notes

storiesforallfandoms · 3 years

Text

hand delivered ~ corpse husband

word count: 1498

request?: no

description: in which he surprises her with a visit, and she surprises him with something else

pairing: corpse x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

i was inspired by corpse hand delivering sykkuno’s hoodie so i had to write a hella fluffy imagine on it

“I swear to God Rae!” you exclaimed as Rae giggled at her actions.

The two of you were streaming GTA V together at Rae had taken an amusement to stealing cars and driving them towards you, narrowly avoiding killing you every time. For obvious reasons, this wasn’t exactly keeping you under the radar of the cops. Quite the opposite, actually. You were spending most of your time running from both Rae and the cops.

“We’re never gonna make any money at this rate,” you told her. “We’re gonna spend it all on bail fees.”

“Don’t be so dramatic!” Rae argued. “Just jump in, we’ll go to the next job.”

“I can’t jump in when you’re trying to run me over!”

Rae giggled again as your chat joked about what she was doing to you. You rolled your eyes at everyone, but you couldn’t stop the smile that was on your face.

Before you could jump into the car that Rae had recently stolen, you heard a knock at your door. You paused a moment, confused. You weren’t expecting anyone, and you hadn’t ordered any take out or anything. You decided to ignore it, figuring maybe it was a wrong place or something and if no one answered they’d leave. But the knock came again, this time a bit louder and faster.

“Hey, don’t get us killed, I gotta go AFK for a second,” you told Rae. You heard just a piece of her response as you set your headphone aside and made your way to your front door.

You were looking down when you opened the door, prepared to tell whoever was there that they were at the wrong house, but instead your gaze landed on a pair of familiar hands holding a black and red hoodie, folded in a way that all you could see was the familiar fanart of Corpse Husband.

Against your better judgement, you let your eyes trail up to the face of your visitor, the real life version of the face on the hoodie, smiling down at you. Your eyes widened. It was the first time you had ever seen Corpse’s face, and it felt illegal to be standing here looking at him. You quickly covered your eyes, willing yourself to forget what you had saw.

“(Y/N),” Corpse laughed. “You don’t have to cover your eyes.”

“I saw your face!” you said. “I-I saw your actual face! I have to gouge my eyes out or something!”

You felt his cold hands taking hold of your own, lowering them from your eyes so you could look up at him again. Although you tried to stop yourself, you let your eyes wander over his face, taking in every detail. It occurred to you in that moment that this was the first time you were seeing the face of a man you had been crushing on for the past six months.

“Come in,” you said, realizing that he was still just standing outside. “Come, get comfortable. I’m-I’m streaming, I’ll be right back.”

“You don’t have to end your stream early because of me.”

That voice! It comes from an actual person! A real, living person!

“You really think I’ll be able to return to my stream for another few hours while you’re here?” you questioned. “It’s fine, it’s just GTA with Rae. She’ll probably play with Sykkuno instead when I get off.”

You felt like you were in a daze as you returned to your room. You quickly told Rae you were hopping off stream and you’d explain to her - and to your viewers - why later on. Your chat started asking what was wrong, but you ended the stream before responding.

When you returned to your living room, you saw the back of Corpse’s curly, brown haired head sitting on your couch. Your heart was racing with so many different emotions. You couldn’t believe he was actually here, that the voice you had befriended nearly half a year ago was actually sat in your house.

“Wait a second,” you said, realizing something. “Don’t you live like...five hours away? Corpse, did you drive five hours to come visit me?”

He looked up at you and shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

“So?! Corpse, you have nerve issues! You can’t even sit straight for ten minutes!” You were suddenly starting to feel guilty, although obviously you hadn’t asked Corpse to come visit you.

“I’m fine!” he assured you. “Do I look like I’m in pain? I wanted to come give you your merch, and I figured this would be a nice surprise too!”

You went to sit next to him, your heart beating faster the closer you got to him. You were sure this was just a dream and you’d wake up in bed at any moment. To test your theory, you slowly inched your finger forward to softly poke Corpse’s cheek. He chuckled as you jumped back, shocked by the success of your touch.

“You’re real!” you blurted, causing more laughter.

“I am real. Are you surprised?”

“Just a little,” you admitted.

You both sat in silence, just looking at one another. You weren’t really sure what to say. It was like every possible topic you could bring up, or every joke you could make, was suddenly gone. It was obvious Corpse was feeling the same as he was usually the one who could keep a conversation going.

“Try on your hoodie,” he finally said, passing you the hoodie he was still holding to you. You took it excitedly and slipped it on over your head. The warm material engulfed you immediately. It was definitely a few sizes too big, but that was your favorite part - the bagginess of it.

“It’s perfect,” you told him. “Thank you so much for bringing it to me.”

“I told you I would. I really wanted you to have at least one article of my merch. You were so excited for it when I released it.”

You held the hoodie close to your nose, taking in the scent of Corpse that still lingered on it. There was so much happiness bubbling up inside of you that you felt like you were going to burst at any moment. You really did not think things could get any better.

“Can I hug you?” you asked.

Corpse smiled and opened his arms as a response. You immediately lunged into them, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly. It was the last confirmation you needed that this was all real, that Corpse was really there.

The hug was prolonged and eventually Corpse was pulling you into his lap, squeezing you back as if afraid that you would disappear too. You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling his curly locks brush against your face. You never wanted to let go, and you could tell that Corpse felt the same way.

When you finally pulled away from the hug, you looked down into Corpse’s eyes. His hands were still resting on your hips, and yours were on his shoulders. Before you could stop yourself, you were leaning forward to kiss him. The minute your lips collided, it was like someone had set off fireworks inside your small apartment.

You pulled away almost immediately, realizing what you had done. “I-I’m sorry. That-that wasn’t right of me. I’m sorry.”

There was a small smile on Corpse’s face as his hands came up to cup your face and pulled you to him, attaching his lips to yours again.

Just when I thought today couldn’t get any better.

Forgetting the world around you, you became lost in one another. Your arms were back around Corpse’s neck, holding on to him as if you were afraid he’d disappear if you let go. One of his hands was still on your cheek as the other slipped behind your head, your hair tangling around his fingers. There was so much passion in the kiss that it made your head spin, and when the two of you finally pulled away it felt like your head was spinning.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Corpse told you. “I may have been hoping something like this would happen when I got here.”

“What?” you questioned. “Why did you never tell me how you were feeling?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Corpse teased. “I was always flirting with you, I had hoped you’d get the message.”

“Corpse, you flirt with everyone!”

The two of you laughed. You couldn’t help but dip your head to kiss him once more. His lips were intoxicating, and you just wanted to kiss them all the time.

“How long were you planning on staying?” you asked.

“I don’t know. I was going to see how well this visit went and go from there.”

You giggled and cuddled into Corpse’s arms. “Well, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. I think I’ll have a hard time letting you go now, though.”

“I think I’ll have a hard time leaving.”

#corpse husband #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband x reader #corpse #corpse imagine #imagine #one shot #amigops #salad gang #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

3K notes · View notes

kjack89 · 2 years

Text

“I have a gift for you,” Enjolras announced, pausing to kiss the top of Grantaire’s head before settling down next to him on the couch.

“For me?” Grantaire asked, surprised. “And it’s not even my birthday. Or our anniversary.” His eyes narrowed. “Or an obscure holiday that only you celebrate.”

Enjolras’s lips pursed. “Maybe if more people actually learned about the Declaration of the Rights of Man—“

“Enjolras.”

“Right,” Enjolras said. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “So it’s not a major or obscure holiday, but do you know what today is?”

Grantaire’s brow furrowed. “…Sunday?”

“See, I always knew you were smarter than you looked,” Enjolras said with a smirk.

Grantaire scowled. “I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

“Could go either way,” Enjolras said, his smirk widening. “But yes, today is Sunday. And do you know what happens on Sundays?”

Grantaire was looking at Enjolras like this was a trick question. “Some kind of sporting event?”

“No.” Enjolras thought about it a moment. “Well, maybe. You and I are the wrong people to ask about that.”

Grantaire snorted. “You got that right.”

“But either way, not what I’m referring to.” Enjolras looked at Grantaire expectantly. “There’s a tv show you like that has new episodes on Sundays…”

Grantaire brightened. “Succession?”

Enjolras grinned. “Like I said, smarter than you look.”

“So you got me a gift to go along with a new episode of Succession?” Grantaire asked, ignoring that comment.

“Sort of,” Enjolras hedged. “You know how you’re always getting me to watch it with you?”

“And you always say no because you’re an insufferable douche who hates anything in the popular zeitgeist?”

Grantaire said it brightly and Enjolras only looked a little put out. “That’s…certainly one way of putting it. How I would put it is that I prefer not to spend my time watching a show obsessed with the obscenely wealthy, those who own a Fox News equivalent, where there’s no actual protagonist and where I’d much rather see them lose all their money and go to jail.”

Grantaire smirked. Like I said, insufferable douche.” He leaned in to kiss Enjolras before adding, “Whom I love, of course.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, but with obvious affection. “Right. So. Tonight. You, me, a bottle of wine, an episode of Succession, and no comments from me. That’s my gift to you.”

Grantaire stared at him. “Why?”

Enjolras frowned. “What do you mean, why?”

“I mean, why are you doing this?”

“I can’t just want to do something nice for me boyfriend, whom I also love?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “You can, but you aren’t. So – why?”

“Honestly?”

“Preferably.”

Enjolras sighed. “Honestly, I’ve had meetings the last five nights in a row, and I really want to spend the evening with you, and I know watching this show and tweeting about it is important to you the way that watching city council meetings and tweeting about it is important to me, so. If I want to spend time with you, I need to do it on your terms.”

Grantaire’s expression was unreadable. “So…you’re so desperate to spend time with me that you’re willing to sit through a tv show that you hate on principle?”

Enjolras nodded. “And not make comments about it, yes.”

Grantaire grinned. “God, you really do love me, don’t you.”

“I really do.”

Grantaire leaned in to kiss him one more before telling him, “In that case, tonight we’re drinking that bottle of wine and we’re watching Rogue One.”

Enjolras’s brow furrowed. “What? Why?”

“Because you love me enough to watch Succession, and I love you enough to wait until you go to bed to watch it,” Grantaire said simply.

“But the point of this gift—“

“Is to spend time with me, right?” Grantaire asked, and when Enjolras nodded, he said, a little stubbornly, “Well this is how I want to spend my Sunday night.”

For a moment it looked like Enjolras might argue, but then he shrugged. “Ok.”

Grantaire kissed him once more, a slow, open-mouthed kiss, breaking apart just far enough for their noses to brush as he told Enjolras, his voice low and sweet, “But you’re watching the Bachelorette with me tomorrow night.”

“Wait, now just hang on a second—“

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #Grantaire #modern au #long post for ts #idk I just wanted some domestic fluff #and nonsense #as one does #established relationship

123 notes · View notes

fridayfirefly · 3 years

Text

All For The Investigation

Read All For The Investigation on AO3

Masterlist

By Tim’s calculations, there was an 87% certain that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was the Parisian former hero Ladybug. However, 87% was not 100%, so Bruce required further investigation. Damian was stuck with the job.

Except, Damian knew that stuck wasn't exactly the right word. Stuck implied that he was displeased with the situation. Damian wasn't displeased. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was the most pleasant person in all of Gotham Academy. If Damian had to choose anyone to be forced to spend time with, he would choose Marinette. Though he grumbled about being forced to spend time with plebeians (for the benefit of his brothers, who would mercilessly tease Damian if they even suspected that he had a crush), Damian was quite pleased by the assignment.

Given that Marinette was in his history class, it was quite easy to arrange a situation in which they were forced to be in each others' proximities. When their teacher announced that there would be an upcoming group project with randomly assigned partnerships, it was simple for Damian to break into her office and switch around some of the names. When the partnerships were announced and Marinette and Damian were paired together, Damian made his move.

"Dupain-Cheng, if you would like to work on the project over the weekend, we can do so at my house."

"Sounds good, Wayne, but you know, you can just call me Marinette," said Marinette with a smile.

Damian felt flustered, which was a very bad sign. He never felt anything less than perfectly composed. "Then you may call me Damian."

Marinette's smile got even bigger. There was a feeling in his chest that, had it been caused by anyone else, Damian would have suspected it to be a complication of the broken ribs from Joker's last attack. "Let me give you my number, and we can plan a meeting this weekend. Would Saturday work for you?"

Damian nodded as he handed Marinette his phone. "My schedule is free on Saturday."

"Great!" chirped Marinette. She plugged in her number, then posed for a picture, explaining that it was, "For the contact photo."

And if in the privacy of his bedroom, Damian stared at that contact photo for twenty-minutes straight, it was just for research purposes. Just to compare Marinette's facial structure to that of Ladybug. Completely normal investigative business.

The next morning, Damian found his way to the bedroom of his most tolerable brother. "Grayson. Can I confide in you without any of the information getting to anyone else?"

Richard glanced up from his laptop. "Sure thing, Baby Bird." He patted a spot on the bed next to him,

"Don't call me that. I despise nicknames," grumbled Damian. He took a seat, staring at the wall in front of him, still weighing the risk versus reward of talking to Richard. If his brother had some technique for extinguishing romantic interest it would solve Damian's problem. However, if either Drake or Todd got word of Damian's crush there was no doubt in Damian's mind that they would never let him hear the end of it.

"So what's on your mind?"

"It pertains to the girl in my who Drake suspects to be Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She has become difficult to investigate. I have found myself unable to observe her objectively."

Richard frowned. "I'm not sure I know what you mean. Is it something that she did that's bothering you?"

Damian searched for the right words to explain the situation. He was not usually so tongue-tied, but the proper words seemed to escape him at every turn. "Dupain-Cheng is not what I expected. I assumed that it would be a simple task, to observe her and determine whether she has any connection to the Parisian superhero. However, I have found it difficult to concentrate on my mission when I am around her."

"You find it difficult to concentrate when you're around her. How so?"

Damian gritted his teeth. He didn't want to spell out his crush so obviously, but Richard seemed incapable of looking between the lines. "I have found myself preoccupied with trivial things like getting to know her personality, rather than investigating her background. She makes me feel... flustered."

Damian could see the moment that Richard made the connection. His brother's face lit up as he exclaimed, "You have a crush on her?!"

"Quiet!" snapped Damian. "This does not leave this room. I need to learn how to get rid of it, so I can get back to completing the mission."

Richard was grinning ear to ear. "That's not how crushes work. You can't just snap your fingers and have them disappear. The only thing that can get rid of a crush is time. Or sometimes if they get a haircut that kills the feeling. But mostly it just takes time."

"I cannot afford to wait for these feelings to fade. I'll look into scheduling her a haircut." Damian stood up, resolved to get rid of his crush before Marinette came over later that day to work on their project.

"No wait," Richard grabbed Damian's arm. "I doubt that your attraction to her is so shallow that a haircut would destroy the feelings you have for her. This is something that you'll have to talk to her about."

Damian frowned. "Perhaps I should give the mission to someone else. Jon could transfer to Gotham Academy for the semester. His detective skills are lacking but his judgment would be less clouded than mine. If I ignore her for long enough I'm sure that I can evade talking about my feelings."

"Why don't you just ignore the mission for a few weeks while you get to know her."

Damian fixed Richard with a death glare. "I cannot ignore this mission. Father gave it to me personally."

"How about twenty-four hours? You spend the next twenty-four hours in getting-to-know-her mode rather than background-check mode and at the end of it, we can regroup and decide what to do next. If you actually get to know her, you'll better understand the depths of your feelings. Once you have that understanding, you'll be able to see if waiting out your crush is a viable option or if you need to pass on the responsibilities to someone else."

It wasn't the perfect solution, but it was better than anything Damian had come up with. Anything that could potentially alleviate Damian's inability to focus on the investigation was worth trying. "Fine," Damian replied curtly. "Thank you for your assistance."

"No problem," said Richard. "You know, I would love to get to meet Marinette sometime."

"Don't push your luck," grumbled Damian, ignoring Richard's laughter as he stood up and left the room. There would be no way to hide the fact that Marinette was coming over to the Manor from his family. There was also no way that his family wouldn't intrude upon Damian and Marinette as they worked. However, if he explained everything beforehand and phrased everything in precisely the right way, he might be able to pass off his odd behavior towards Marinette as a part of his investigation. Damian pulled out his phone and composed a text to send to the family groupchat.

Damian: Dupain-Cheng is coming to the Manor at approximately 22:00 to work on a history project. I will be covertly conducting my investigation. From what I have gathered, she would respond better to subtle questioning, rather than a straightforward interrogation.

Tim: wait does subtle interrogation mean that you'll be flirting with her???

Jason: I need to see this

Steph: I'm willing to bet money that his flirting offends Marinette so much she storms out of the Manor before Damian can finish the mission

Dick: No way. I'll bet 20 dollars that his flirting works too well

Steph: done

Damian huffed, half tempted to call off his meeting with Marinette. His siblings were insufferable.

Damian: Please refrain from intervening. Confirming that Dupain-Cheng is Ladybug is a vital first step in determining whether the Justice League needs to interfere in the affairs of the Order of the Miraculous.

Bruce: Damian is correct. No one will bother him while he is working with Marinette.

Damian smirked as he turned his phone off. His plan wasn't foolproof, of course, but a direct order from Bruce to not interfere would force his siblings to be more subtle about spying on him and Marinette. The chance of him being interrupted was significantly decreased.

Damian got everything set up in the den, which was only ever used on family movie night. It was perfectly situated for the task at hand - a room small enough to be classed as cozy but big enough to not feel cramped. It was out of the way, surrounded by other equally unused rooms, so his siblings would have no excuse for lurking in the hallway outside. Damian brought in snacks, chargers, and a few books from the Wayne Manor library on Renaissance Art, the topic of their project.

Marinette arrived promptly at 2 in the afternoon, holding a Tupperware container full of gingerbread cookies, with a smile on her face. "Hi, Damian. I brought cookies."

None of his planning accounted for this moment, for first laying eyes on Marinette. Damian froze up, desperate to put the right words in the right order. "Welcome to Wayne Manor, Marinette. I have everything set up in the den if you'll just follow me."

"Sure." Marinette toed off her black boots and arranged them on the shoe tray next to the door. She was left in sage green cat-print socks that matched the rest of her outfit, a pine green sweater and black jeans. Damian couldn't help but wonder if she knit the sweater herself - Marinette's talent for designing was well-known throughout Gotham Academy, as it was what got her accepted into the prestigious high school in the first place.

Marinette followed Damian through the Manor, complimenting little details that Damian had never noticed before - the pattern of the curtains, the bay window in a sitting room that Damian had never bothered to enter, the family pictures that lined the wall in the hallway. Marinette made it seem so obvious to pay attention to those little details. Damian wished that he could see the Manor for the first time through her eyes and feel the same amazement that she felt as she oohed and awed over the decadence that Damian had considered banal.

Damian was so captivated by Marinette that he almost missed the fact that Drake and Brown were lurking in the study across the hall from the den. A text to his father about the gravity of his mission would be enough to get them sent away on some inconsequential but time-consuming task. Damian would have to find an inconspicuous time to pull out his phone during their work on the project to let his father know about their intrusion.

"Now I know why you call it Wayne Manor. This place is huge." Marinette shrugged off her backpack and set it down on the coffee table next to her container of cookies.

"Its size is entirely unnecessary for ordinary life," agreed Damian. "However, it makes for very challenging games of hide-and-seek."

Marinette giggled. "That sounds like fun. You'll have to invite me next time you play."

"I'll make sure of it." Damian smiled, surprised to find that his happiness wasn't forced. He rarely engaged in childish behavior, and even more rarely did he find any enjoyment in it. Yet the mental image of playing a child's game with Marinette was pleasant to him. The feelings he had for her were deeper than Damian anticipated.

The pair got to work on their project. Damian sent out the text to his father as soon as he opened his laptop, leaving Marinette under the impression that he was researching sources. A series of irritable texts in the family groupchat confirmed the fact that Drake and Brown had been removed from their hiding spot.

"Do you want to try a cookie?" asked Marinette, pushing the Tupperware towards Damian.

"Thank you." Damian took one, just to be polite. Growing up in the League of Assassins, he never really had a taste for sweets. Alfred's baking was the extent of what he would tolerate. He took a bite - small, to back up his claim that he already ate if it turned out to be inedible. Surprisingly, it was nearly as good as Alfred's gingerbread cookies, and those were tailer made to Damian's taste. The cookies were heavy on the ginger and cloves, just as Damian liked. "These are delicious," Damian professed.

Marinette blushed. "Thanks. I know they taste a little different than store-bought gingerbread. My parents make them with a lot of ginger."

"These are much superior to store-bought cookies."

"Thanks. You know, you're a lot nicer outside of school. You always seemed kind of grumpy in class."

"I'm not a fan of the state-mandated curriculum."

Marinette nodded. "I get what you mean. I barely have any room in my schedule for my design classes, with all the mandatory classes that Gotham Academy makes us take. I'm lucky that I have my internship, otherwise, I think I would go crazy, taking so many classes that I don't care about."

"Your internship is with Audrey Bourgeoise, isn't it?"

Marinette nodded. "I was friends with her daughter, back in Paris. Originally it was going to be a four-year internship in New York City, but I renegotiated some of the terms so that I could do the first two years in Paris, then the last two in Gotham, while she established the new branch of her company."

"You renegotiated the terms of a prestigious internship at the age of fourteen? Weren't you afraid of losing it if you pushed too hard?"

Marinette shrugged, nonchalant as if it were normal for an intern to make such a bold move. "I didn't want to leave Paris. My whole life was there. I wasn't ready to just pick up and move to a new country."

"What changed that you were able to come to Gotham?"

"There were a lot of reasons. Hawkmoth was the biggest one. I felt nervous about leaving my family and friends behind when he was terrorizing the city. After he was defeated I felt a lot more comfortable leaving."

That aligned with the theory that Marinette was Ladybug. "What were the other reasons?"

"My age was one. I didn't feel ready to leave home at fourteen and my parents didn't like the idea of me leaving home that young either. Another big one was the fact that I didn't have a good handle on my personal style. I was worried that designing full-time in Audrey Bourgeoise's office would cause me to lose my originality. The worst thing I could imagine was watering down my designs to appeal to the rest of the fashion industry."

"Your conviction is impressive. Most in your position would not worry about selling out to obtain such a highly coveted position."

"Audrey said the same thing, though when she said it, she spoke it with annoyance, not admiration. I've never been highly motivated by wide-spread success. I don't need to be a household name to feel content with life. I just want to design clothes that I'm proud of."

The fluttering feeling in Damian's chest returned with full force, alongside a tendril of anger at the unfairness of the situation. Here was the most perfect person Damian had ever laid his eyes on, and he was forced to pick her apart piece by piece to figure out her deepest darkest secrets. Damian didn't know much about relationships, but this didn't seem like the way they were supposed to go.

"You look upset," Marinette's observation was tinged by the worry in her voice.

"I'm not upset," he assured her. "I was just wondering how I never noticed how interesting you are."

Marinette flushed, her cheeks turning pink. "What does that mean?"

Damian shrugged. While his nonchalant attitude was all a bluff, his admiration of her accomplishments was all real. "Most of our classmates feel accomplished with the most conventional of achievements. Yet you secured an internship at the side of one of the most renowned fashion critics in the world and you still stay humble about it. You weren't blind-sighted by the incredible opportunity. You fought to maintain your values, no matter if it meant losing something priceless."

Marinette's blush deepened. "That's just who I am. It's not special, it's me."

"It is you," agreed Damian. "And it is special."

Marinette gave him a wide-eyed look, shocked by the emotion in his words. "We should get back to work," she said, self-consciously rubbing one cheek with the sleeve of her green wool sweater.

"Of course," Damian amicably agreed. He had pushed far enough for intel and had managed to get to know her a little better in the process. His flirting wasn't as blatant as it could have been, but it got the job done. Richard had said that once he knew the depths of his feelings he would know what to do. Richard was right. Damian's feelings were seemingly endless, a maze of all the things he liked about Marinette, in which every corner he turned was a new quirk that he couldn't un-notice. Yet Damian didn't want to pass on the responsibility of investigating Marinette to anyone else. He wanted a reason to spend time with her.

It wasn't the best situation. Damian wished that he could get to know her organically. However, Damian wasn't the type to dwell on the could-have-been. He had an opportunity to get to know Marinette right in front of him and he wasn't going to let it go.

Hours later, after Marinette went home, Richard stopped him in the hallway. "So what did you learn?"

"My investigation has proven inconclusive. I need to further get to know Marinette Dupain-Cheng if I want to uncover her identity. For research purposes, of course."

Richard laughed. "Of course."

#maribat #daminette #marinette x damian #maridami #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Damian Wayne #miraculous ladybug fic

293 notes · View notes

peralta-guaranteed · 3 years

Note

After that Jake-Mac-Rosa fic, you dropped this queen: 👑 Next time, a Jake-Mac-Holt piece?

Oh dang, THAT's where I left it. Thank you for that. 🤪

Grandpa Holt is always a pleasure to write, but let's try for some Dad Holt too...

"Is everything alright, Peralta?"

Jake has been sitting off to the side of the group for a while now, so Holt finds it necessary to inquire. He's not used to the eager detective being so closed off and quiet unless something is wrong, and nothing he can think of right now strikes him as 'wrong': they have been celebrating the end of a rather arduous case for Diaz and Boyle, and Peralta had been as helpful as he could be as a tertiary, which was not his preferred position at all. The first round at Shaw's had been paid by himself as Captain, obviously, and the next by Diaz, so Boyle has promised to shoulder the third, were it to happen. Ergo Peralta could not be thinking about his usual money problems, which have lessened anyway ever since Santiago took over his budgeting.

That means something else entirely must be 'wrong' in order for Jake to keep out of the conversation, only reply when he is mentioned by name, and drift off to a corner of the bar while the other congregate around the various game options of the room.

"I'm good, Captain, thanks." Jake answers with a smile and an obvious lie, so Holt doesn't even bother replying, just raises one of his eyebrows a quarter of an inch, which he knows usually gets him results with Peralta. The ensuing sigh shows that it is still working.

"It's just..." Jake shrugs and rubs the back of his neck, another tell of his discomfort. "This is my first night out alone since the baby."

"Indeed." Holt replies. "I remember your phone call to Amy to inform her you would be back late today."

"Yeah." His hand is still on his neck, the other one clutched around his half empty beer bottle. "She told me to have fun. But..uh... I still kinda feel like I shouldn't be here."

"Do you think having a child robs you of autonomity? I know I am not speaking from experience, here, but it does seem to me like you are allowed to enjoy time away from your family, especially if your spouse insists you do."

"Getting drunk at a bar while my kid might be crying at home doesn't feel like the responsible thing to do, is all."

"Ah, I see." Holt nods, and he does see - he actually sees a lot more than what Jake might be trying to imply in his statement. He remembers how he used to self-medicate with alcohol in the past, after ending his relationship with that defense attorney, or even before, while feeling heartbroken over Santiago. He also remembers anecdotes about his father's drinking, not from Peralta himself, obviously, but from the rest of the squad, whenever Jake would cancel on a promised night out after Roger Peralta's visits. As much as Holt hates idioms, one of his most despised is probably 'the apple doesn't fall far from the tree', and Jake seems to fear it as well.

"Here is my solution, then, if you are willing to listen." Jake looks up at Holt as he's standing in front of him, and his hand drops from his neck. "You make the beer you are currently drinking your last for the night, and spend some quality time with your colleagues instead, enjoying a few parlour games, and then you head home at an agreeable time and still see your child before he falls asleep."

Jake grins and takes a sip of his beer.

"Sounds like a plan, Cap." He nods, and Holt doesn't ignore the fact that Jake has been using this shortened nickname for him a lot lately, and how eerily similar it sounds to 'Dad' in his voice.

(An hour later, he receives a picture on his cellphone from Peralta: The man himself, asleep on his couch, with his infant son equally asleep on his chest. Santiago must have commandeered his phone, and Holt is glad for it.)

-*-

"Grampa!"

The sound of that little voice echoes through the hallway as loudly as the ensuing footsteps, and Holt feels something warm and solid wrap around his legs.

"Hello, McClane." He smiles down at the little boy currently clutching his knees, and he smiles back before raising his arms in an obvious demand to be lifted up. Holt obeys it immediately.

He notices Mac looks surprisingly tired for an otherwise very energetic two year old, and Amy, who's now following him to Holt's side, looks equally exhausted.

"Good afternoon, Captain. I'm so sorry, I should've messaged you that I have to bring Mac in for an hour, the babysitter cancelled and the day care couldn't keep him longer than-"

"It is quite alright, Santiago. McClane knows how to behave himself at the precinct, right?" He gives the little boy in his arms a look, and receives a strong and eager nod in reply, the curls on his head bouncing back and forth. If anyone were ever to question Peralta's parentage, that alone would classify them as an imbecile. "I can watch him for the time being, if you have paperwork you need to get in order before leaving for the day."

"God, Captain Holt, would you- that would be so- I was going to ask Rosa, because I know she's at her desk-"

Amy seems far more frazzled than usual, and Holt realises that her regular schedule must be in quite a disarray, considering she has been a single parent for about a week now. Mac must not have been making it easy for her, either, nor must the baby currently growing in her stomach, which has started to show about a month ago, at which point they finally informed the squad about it (when everyone had already figured it out just like last time).

"RoRo!" Mac yells, happily, almost leaning out of Holt's arms, but he quickly hugs him tighter.

"Your aunt Rosa is working, McClane, and we should not interrupt her. We can spend the time in my office, and you can draw if you would like."

"Roro working." He echoes like a little parrot. "Like Daddy."

"That's right." Holt has learned from the parenting homepages he's visited that you are to encourage a child trying to talk and string together a coherent topic, no matter how long it might take.

"Daddy's working away." Mac continues, and out of the corner of his eye Holt sees Amy's forehead wrinkle in worry.

"Yes, your father is in New Jersey for the week to work on a special case." It's not a dangerous case at all, rather a boring standard task that happened to involve some out-of-state suspects, but Jake had still been trying to hand off that trip to anyone who might be willing to help him out. Seeing his son with bags under his eyes and his wife with stresslines around her mouth and her hand on her belly, Holt understands why.

"He comes back." Mac says next, and it is a statement, but the look in his eyes makes it a question, and Holt is quick to answer. He's glad that he has a definite answer to that, instead of the empty promises and assurances he sometimes has to make as the head of a police department.

"Yes, your father will be back soon. In two days, in fact."

Mac holds up two grubby little fingers, and Holt nods with so much fervor it surprises himself.

"Very good, that is two. Only two days and two nights until your father is back home." The worry in Mac's eyes seems to dimish a little at that as he stares at his own fingers. "If we go to my office, we can check on the calendar exactly how long that is." He barely waits for another nod before taking the diaper bag out of Santiago's hands, who whispers a quiet, but relieved "Thank you" to him. He understands again that it means far more than to thank him for taking care of the child for an hour so.

(If he uses that hour to assure Mac several times that no matter what, his father will always find a way back to him with far more emotion in his voice than he'd usually use, well, no one needs to know. Peralta certainly seems happy about the picture he sends him of Mac with his captain's hat behind his desk.)

-*-

"Congratulations." Holt's hand on his shoulder is heavy, but not uncomfortably so, and it gives a quick squeeze before dropping.

They've done the whole customary introduction to the newborn baby, the apparently necessary picture round, and now Kevin is having an amicable chat with Amy in her hospital bed. They've waited two days for their official visit, to give the new parents a chance to get at least a few of their bearings. (Holt was there merely an hour after the birth, of course, with the rest of the squad, but that was a moment of joyful chaos and many voices.) Now the room is filled with an almost serene quiet, Amy's and Kevin's voices low and comfortable in the background as Holt watches the man he truly considers a son hold up his new granddaughter.

"Do you want to hold her again? I know you already did for the photos but-"

Holt only nods and takes the infant out of his hands with perfect ease. He's more used to a wriggling toddler now, but he still clearly remembers the days when Mac was equally quiet and frail in his arms. The little one in them now is asleep amidst all that is happening, her tiny mouth open just a fraction, and he feels her arm bump against his chest while she seems to be having a dream.

"She is as perfect as her older brother, Jake."

"Yeah." Jake smiles, and there's nothing of that boisterous, loud, cocky detective grin left in it that he used to know. It is soft and kind and full of love, and it might be one of Holt's favourite expressions. "Amy did a superb job again."

"As did you."

"I'm sure I don't gotta explain this to you, Cap, but I didn't really do much." Jake jokes, and Holt can tell he's trying to divert the attention to a simpler topic, but sometimes things must be said.

"You do a lot, Jacob." He continues, then. "Far more than a lot of fathers do. Far more than many would expect of you. And you do it all perfectly right, with heart and determination."

Jake nods, swallowing down a lump in his throat, it seems, and it might be a step too far for his already emotional state, but Holt feels like it needs to accompany his accolades.

"I am very proud of you, son."

Jake is very obviously fighting back tears as he replies.

"Thanks, dad."

The little girl in Holt's arms stirs right at this moment, and Jake seems to want to interject immediately in fear that she'll start crying, but she simply stares up at Holt with impossibly big, brown eyes for the first time. And he realises, just as he did two years ago when Mac's little hand tightened around his finger for the first time, that there is a child in this world that he would literally do anything for. There are four of them now, even if two of them have not fallen under the category of a child for several decades.

"Hello, Maya." He says to the little face that seems to be inspecting him. "I'm Captain Raymond Holt. Your grandfather."

He looks up at Kevin and Amy, who've stopped their conversation while Amy is lifting her phone in their direction, and then at Jake, who's looking at Maya as well with shining eyes. Then he looks back down at Maya, stretching her arms out of her swaddle as if she's reaching for him.

"You are a very lucky little girl."

#b99 #brooklyn 99 #jake peralta #amy santiago #peraltiago #mac peralta #maya peralta #raymond holt #captain dad #my writing #ficlet

178 notes · View notes

exceptionimagines · 3 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Don Collier

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You and Don meet when him and his men roll through your city.

- When the war broke out, you were lucky enough to be one of the few towns who went relatively untouched and because of that, the American soldiers; who had planned on just passing through, decided to take refuge there for a few days and set up camp.

- Whether or not it was a smart idea is up for debate but, when your father; or one of your relatives who you lived with, saw the men going about their business, they decided to invite some of them back to your families farm for a night; or however long they wished to stay, of “normalcy”.

- Which is how you; and the rest of your family, ended up standing at your kitchen window in shock as your father walked alongside a beat up tank, guiding them onto your property as he made his way home from work.

- Once he steps through the door, he offers the men a couple of things, introducing you and your mother with a wave of his hand as you momentarily lock eyes with the man who seems to be the groups leader; the man whose mere presence has your heart racing.

- No one; besides perhaps your father and the men, is exactly sure of how to react and while you question the older mans sanity, your family attempts to go about their days like normal and show the surprise guests as much hospitality as you can.

- That night, the five soldiers join your family for dinner and you get an inside look at the relationships between all the men. Don; or Wardaddy as you’d heard his men call him, seemed to rule over the soldiers with an iron fist. You got the impression that he was keeping them on their best behavior; particularly for you and your mothers; and any other siblings, sakes.

- After everyone finished their dinner, your father asked you to gather up some spare blankets and pillows for the men; which you did. When you returned with them, you decidedly handed them to the youngest, least threatening one in the room and merely gave the leader; Don, a flustered nod as he thanked you and your father.

- When you woke up the following morning, you came downstairs to a strangely filled home: soldiers littered here and there, doing their own things and conversing with each other. It felt like you’d been thrusted into the life of a bed and breakfast owner; everything felt so surreal.

- Nevertheless, you found that one of your house guests was missing and out of sheer curiosity; and a girlish infatuation with the man, you decided to look around and see if you could find him.

- After trying your best to look around as unsuspiciously as you could, you found that he was nowhere in the house and moved your search to outside. And to your surprise: you had no luck; not until your eyes fell on the barn.

- It was there that you found him, standing by one of the stables, his hands stroking across one of your horses faces with a familiarity that had you guessing he was used to being around the gentle giants.

- You decided it was time to announce yourself instead of standing there, watching him like a creep and so you called out the name of the horse, walking a bit closer and leaning against one of the columns nearby.

- The man glanced over at you and questioningly repeated the name before turning back to the animal. The two of you stood in silence before he asked how old they were, if you rode them, what kind of equipment you used, etc.

- The conversation wasn’t long; just a few questions as he patted the horses head, but it had opened up the gate and you found yourself falling head over heels like school girl. You chalked it up to the fact that all the available boys in your town had been off at war for at least a few years by then.

- Regardless, there you were, doing whatever you could to inconspicuously spend time with the man and borderline following him around like a lost puppy.

- It seemed he didn’t mind, in fact, he genuinely seemed to enjoy the companionship at times: occasionally inviting you to walk with him or amusedly explaining whatever he was doing whenever you asked.

- He hadn’t invited you to sit with him when he was outside one night but you’d found him all the same, asking if you could join him as he stared out at your property. It was there that the two of you shared your first kiss.

- You’d been silent for the first few minutes, merely taking in the atmosphere of the night and enjoying the lack of people around you. But, when he did speak, your heart dropped.

- He told you he’d be packing up and heading out the next day; en route for some war torn capital that was sure to have a bunch of clueless Krauts none the wiser to their upcoming arrival.

- You weren’t sure what to say and so you stayed silent, looking anywhere but at him. “We’ve done it before” he said next, perhaps to reassure you, perhaps to reassure himself; you weren’t sure which but it certainly didn’t make you feel any better.

“Did it turn out alright?” You asked and he nodded, telling you that it worked out fine enough; that they’d be fine enough, and you told him you were glad; your eyes finally meeting his.

- The two of you locked eyes for a long moment before you found yourselves slowly leaning in. You hesitated for a few seconds, your lips mere centimeters away, before he’d finally tilted his face and kissed you.

- The two of you wind up doing a lot more than sharing a kiss, and while you probably should have regretted it; you didn’t. You merely wished that he didn’t have to go, wrapped up in his arms as dawn approached.

- You’ll have to wait a while but he intends on coming back to you one day. You just hope that that one day is soon....

- It may not be considered “Pda”; which if it isn’t then you don’t do a whole lot of that, but he’s constantly got his hands on you in someway whenever you’re out in public. He wants to keep you close and let people know who you belong to.

- His hand gripping the back of your neck and head. It’s oftentimes how he pulls you into kisses; either that or he’ll tell you to “come here” with a little smile and press his lips to yours.

- His hand on your knee or the back of your chair whenever you’re sitting together. He has a habit of holding onto you in general: whether it be you, your clothes or something you’re on.

- If there’s sweet, actual affection happening; particularly in public, then chances are, you’re the one performing it. So he’ll be glaring out at something and you’ll be kissing his cheek or holding onto his arm and hand.

- Hugging him from behind. He’s secretly a big fan of it.

- Forehead and temple kisses. They’re always featherlight but it never fails to make you melt whenever he does it.

- How he kisses you depends on the day. Sometimes he’s soft and slow; his lips being the only rough things about him. Other times it’s harsh, abrupt, and dominant; stealing your breath away and making you feel like you’re drunk.

- Sitting in his lap. It’s one of the only things he’s really verbal and obvious about liking.

- Whenever the two of you cuddle, he’s always got a tight grip on you; keeping you plastered against him until you’ve got a good reason to get up. He’ll usually wind up being the big spoon or wrapping his arms around you while cuddle into his chest.

- He calls you “sweetheart” more than anything. It’s his favorite pet name to use; both on you and mockingly on other people.

- Don secretly; or not so secretly, craves a quiet and domestic life. He’d want a girl who; at least somewhat, fits into that traditional feminine role: the caretaker and homemaker that he; and most other men of the time, was raised on.

- Relaxing evenings spent inside or alone together; rather than going out.

- Going shopping together. He likes running errands with you; he finds it soothing to be by your side and do something so normal after the life he’s lived. He also just likes keeping an eye on you.

- Cooking for him.

- Early, peaceful mornings spent sitting together at your dining room table or cuddled up on your couch.

- Horseback riding.

- Picnics.

- Memorable dates or trips that you talk and reminisce about years later. He likes making new memories with you; ones he can wholeheartedly enjoy when he looks back on them.

- Don’s sort of just willing to do whatever you want to do. You can almost always persuade him to go and do something; both because he likes making you happy and spending time with you and because he likes keeping an eye out for you whenever you’re out in public.

- The two of you are inseparable most of the time. You spend most days by each other’s sides, helping him get used to normal life again and being the constant companion that he needs after the harsh realities of war. You’re sort of the only person he really has left in his life so the responsibility is going to lie on you.

- Don is wholeheartedly whipped. The amount of times you can puppy dog eye him and get your way is borderline hilarious.

- Convincing him to go with you into photo booths. He’ll probably roll his eyes and just keep the same serious face on the whole time but he’ll go in with you. He does secretly enjoy seeing your bright smile and your adorable attempts at copying his glare after you notice he isn’t smiling.

- Going dancing. He thinks he looks ridiculous in a nice evening suit; and you cannot convince him otherwise, but he suffers through it for a night every now and again to make you happy.

- Tracing the scars on his face. The softness of your touch makes him melt on the inside.

- He says a lot with his eyes. After a while, you’ll learn to read what he’s trying to say or thinking from them.

- He likes listening to you talk; even if it’s just rambling about something he would arguably have no interest in.

- Getting taught how to play card games and gamble like a pro. He’s gotten ridiculously good at swindling people out of their money over the past few years and he likes seeing your bewildered expression every time he wins or tries showing you something new.

- He loves teasing you. He finds it amusing to annoy you from time to time; grinning as you roll your eyes or snap back at him. That being said, he always knows how to tastefully push your buttons and never goes overboard.

- Him cutting both your hair. He cuts his own so he probably gives you a little trim from time to time as well.

- Wearing his dogtags.

- He really doesn’t like telling you about his time in the war but you could probably convince him to after a bit of pestering. Although, even when he is telling you stories, he tends to steer clear of the more gory details; instead talking about places he had to visit and funny shenanigans.

- He lowkey tries to keep you away from his crew. You probably have either never met them or have only had brief; and most likely somewhat tense, interactions with them. He thinks of them as part of the war and not necessarily as his friends.

- The only person he probably keeps in contact with after the war is either Norman or Bible and you’ll occasionally invite them over or exchange letters with them.

- Helping him deal with his past. He’s done a lot of things in his life that he isn’t proud of and sometimes he really thinks that he doesn’t deserve you but you refuse to let him think that way and stay with him through thick and thin.

- It takes him a while to really be comfortable with you seeing his scars. He tries not to be shirtless around you as much as possible, or have you touch his back, but you just have to reassure him that you want to see it and that it doesn’t bother you.

- He’s literally been covered in brain matter and intestines; your period or you shaving isn’t going turn him off. So yes, the two of you are very comfortable with each other; or at least you can be comfortable around him without fear of judgement.

- Comforting him whenever he goes through something. Just your presence does wonders in grounding him and making him feel better or think more clearly.

- Certain things really tick him off; like nazis for example, and you’ll occasionally have to calm him down and stop him from killing someone.

- Patching him up after fights or whenever he manages to hurt himself.

- In turn, he takes care of you: making sure you eat and sleep enough, telling you to wear a jacket, etc. He’s used to patrolling people and acting like a father of sorts to them, so it’s sort of just become a habit of his.

- Don prides himself on not playing along with silly little games so you aren’t going to be able to make him jealous; at least not purposefully. He’ll merely quirk an eyebrow at your antics and frustrate you with how little he reacts.

- That being said, when it comes to other people flirting with or taking interest in you, he tends to be a little bit more responsive. He usually just interrupts and; in some way, scares them off before things can get out of hand, but if you cluelessly wave him off so that you can talk with the other person more, his jealousy will really begin take root and he’ll find himself silently despising the other person.

- He’s incredibly protective of you; never letting anyone get too close and always keeping you in his sights. You’re the most important thing in his life and he isn’t going to let anything; not even something perfectly trivial, happen to you.

- The two of you really don’t fight all too often; perhaps because you both sort of knew what you were getting into when you first started your relationship. Regardless, when you do fight, they range from yelling and being cruel to just frustrated scolding; usually on his part.

- When the actual fight is over, he’ll usually search your face, forcing you to look at him and trying to see how you’re actually feeling. A nagging feeling of guilt will invade his body and he’ll; usually, try to make things up to you without verbally apologizing; though he certainly isn’t incapable of doing so if the moment really calls for it.

- He doesn’t outwardly tell you he loves you incredibly often but he shows it and says things that let you know that he does all the time. That being said, he does love the look on your face whenever he does finally say it: a cross between surprise and an overwhelming wave of joy as you try your best not to look too excited.

- After being in the war for so long, he thinks he’s suffered enough retribution for his crimes; inside of it and out, and he’s looking forward to spending the rest of his life with you; if you’re able to handle it.

#don collier imagines #don collier x reader #don collier imagine #don collier headcanons #don collier headcanon #fury imagine #fury 2014 imagine #fury imagines #Fury headcanons #fury headcanon

101 notes · View notes

imaginesmai · 4 years

Text

Arvin Russell - The right time

SO YEAH I SAW THE DEVIL ALL THE TIME AND I LOVED IT!! My opinion about it is at the end! In case you haven’t seen it and you still want to read this, you can skip it by not looking at the A/N. Let me know what you think about the film in the comments, please! Or just message me! I’m feeling like writting about him, so please

SEND YOUR REQUESTS.

Plot: Arvin’s father always told him to wait for the right time, and he thought it was the only right way to do things. Now, when you’ve been hurt because of him, he’s ready to take the matters into his own hands.

WARNINGS: TDATT SPOILERS. Mentions of rape. Murder.

Arvin didn’t know if the preacher had heard him or not coming in, because he hadn’t turned around to look at him. If anything, that only made him angrier. He was sure that if he had heard him and looked at him, he wouldn’t have spared him another glance. Because Arvin Russell wasn’t of his interest, not because of the money and the gender. The last thought made him tighten his grip around the gun, willing himself not to shoot him before the right time.

Since Lenora’s death, he had been waiting for the right time. That was what his father told him; to wait for the right time, and then to avenge yourself. He had been doing pretty good with that mantra, or at least most of the times. Arvin had followed the preacher to his house and to his adventures with young women. He had watched as he fucked a young girl from Lenora’s class and then went back to his wife, scoffing when dinner wasn’t ready and urging her to satisfy him when bed time arrived. He had held his gun tight to his chest, knowing the right time would eventually come; and then, he had hated his father more than ever, because listening to him had almost caused another precious death.

“Arvin!” his grandma called from downstair. Quickly, he closed the notebook where he was keeping track of the preacher’s actions. “Boy, Mr. Y/L/N is here!”

Arvin frowned at the mention of your father. You had known each other for your whole life, so he knew your family story; that your mother had left you after promising your father that she would leave her adventurous life when she got pregnant. She left with some young man that was going to travel the world, and your father had locked himself up in a unbreakable shell, forgetting about his eleven’s years old daughter.

Not once he had seen your father outside your house, you being in charge of dropping food and money for him. Not matter how many times Arvin had tried to convince you that you would be better on your own. Even living with him, once your relationship wasn’t just friends anymore. But you had just shook your head softly and told him that you couldn’t leave him, not yet.

So it was strange that it was your father and not you who was knocking on his door. He had agreed to meet you that morning to show you finally what he was on lately, since he couldn’t hide anything; but you hadn’t come, with the excuse of visiting Lenora’s grave once more. You were her best friend, so after offering to go with you, he agreed on meeting you at night.

Briefly, he looked to the box where you two were saving a bit of your earnings for your life together. He doubted your father knew about it, so he got up and walked down the stairs.

“Here he is” Emma smiled at him. “Well, I’m leavin’ you to it. I’m in the kitchen”

“Arvin” your father called his name, voice croaked from not using it. “God, you’re a man now”

Arvin gave your father a small smile. The man, once handsome, broad and tall, was now hunched shadow. He had a several days long beard, skinny arms and wide clothes. Mr Y/L/N was hiding his hands behind his body, only making him look worse. Still, Arvin extended one hand and offered him a shake, greeting him.

“I’m – uh, sorry, you didn’t have to come down. But Emma started calling you before I could explain” he gave him an awkward chuckle.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Y/L/N. Is there… anything I can help with?”

“Is Y/N here?”

The question caught Arvin off guard, because usually you spent days in Arvin’s house and your father didn’t notice as long as there was food on the fridge. Lately, the man had been doing an effort of getting better, and some nights you had told Arvin how he had attempted to cook for you. From there to wondering where you were there was a huge step, and for a second Arvin tried to sniffle for any track of alcohol. There was none.

“Usually, I wouldn’t really care but, you know – getting better and all” he tried to explain himself. “She spends most of the time here, so I thought that maybe she’s around? I haven’t seen her since yesterday’s afternoon”

The last part caught Arvin attention. He talked with you last time before starting yesterday’s shift, which was before noon. And you told him you were going to spend the rest of the day with your father, and that the next morning you intended to pay Lenora a visit. He hadn’t worried about it, because he had been busy and trusted you to take care of yourself. But if you hadn’t slept on your house, then there was something to worry about.

“She… Y/N told me she was goin’ to spend the mornin’ in the graveyard” Arvin mumbled.

“Oh, she went yesterday after you left her home” he explained, making Arvin’s blood run cold. “I had things to do so she told me she’d go and then pay you a visit”

Your father said something else, but Arvin wasn’t listening anymore. There was another person he had missed last night; the preacher, who usually went home somewhere near eight, didn’t appear until very much later. He knew because he had been waiting outside his house, watching his wife sitting in front of a cold dinner with tears on her eyes. He had thought nothing of it at first, but now, he choked on his breath knowing what could have happened.

Arvin’s body collided with your father when he walked past him and ran out of the house, hearing the man calling out for him. His grandma also looked through the kitchen window, screaming his name before Arvin disappeared into the field that went to the town’s graveyard.

Thinking about it, Arvin knew it was like finding a needle in a haystack. Knockemstiff was full of sinners, bad people and wicked intentions. Even if you didn’t go to highschool no more and worked to provide to your father, Arvin had had to deal with a few men who thought you were available, whether you wanted or not. There were a lot of people who could have hurt you, a lot of reasons why you didn’t go back home last night, and none of them made sense in his head.

You knew how to defend yourself, you had a car that could help you to escape any delicate situation, and you never got lost. Not once you had wandered off without telling anyone, not even your father. Even if he wasn’t listening or paying attention, you always told him where you were going.

Thoughts ran past his mind at the same time Arvin ran past his neighbours and cars, trying not to collide with anyone but finding it difficult, since he couldn’t see much past his oncoming tears. Loosing Leonora had been one thing. His sister, his family and the person he had fought nail and tooth to protect for so many years. He had been waiting for the right moment to avenge her, to put a bullet in between the preacher’s eyes, or maybe a few. One for every second she had suffered hanging from that rope.

And he swore, that if he had had anything to do with your disappearance, there wouldn’t be an inch of his body untouched by the bullets.

He wasn’t as late as he could have been, he guessed. The police was warned, a group of villagers offered to help, and Arvin himself kept running in circles around the graveyard for the whole day. Even Grandma, who wasn’t in the best shape, had helped into the search. And she had been the one who had found you, maybe because she had just this woman-ly instinct or because God had wanted it to be a woman who found your naked, bruised body and not some sinful man.

Arvin had arrived then – and sure, you were alive, recovering in his room because he didn’t want to leave your side ever again, barely saying a word and healing from the bruised kidney. But you weren’t fine, you weren’t smiling at Arvin and cradling his head when he lost his track. It had been obvious what had happened that day, why it had taken Arvin a few hours to find each piece of your clothes and where the bruises around your thighs came.

Your father had dissapeared again, locking himself in his room and forgetting about his daughter once more. But Arvin had been there every second for the past week, getting you to eat what you could and holding you tight through the nightmares.

The bench he was sitting on creaked under his fingers when Arvin thought about your sobs, how your tried to hide beside him when last week you complained about Virginia heat. The preacher looked back to Arvin, who wasn’t visible because of the cap.

“Excuse me, preacher” Arvin’s voice didn’t waver. “You got time for a sinner?”

Upon hearing Arvin’s voice, and knowing it wasn’t anyone from his interest – a girl – he turned around and motioned for him to keep going. It wasn’t any more about Lenora´s death, because Arvin would have had enough with killing him. Maybe making him suffer for a bit, making him feel the desperation of knowing death was the only answer. Now, however, Arvin wanted to cut off every inch of skin that had touched yours.

“Go ahead” preacher Teagardin told him, going back to his lecture.

Arvin took his time, talking about everything that the preacher had done of thought about since he put a foot in Knockemstiff. He talked about how the preacher forced his wife to please him late at night, how he ordered her around as if she was just a servant. He talked about how he liked young girls, those who were innocent enough that didn’t have to be forced, just manipulated. About the pregnancy, and how he cowered away once his decisions had repercussions.

He watched from behind his cap how the preacher left the book on the bench, his eyes widening in size as he realised the sins Arvin was talking about were his. He turned around finally, locking eyes with Arvin, but not recognizing him. Why would he, though, since everything he looked at were Arvin’s precious girls. First his sister, and now his girl. As he continued, he shifted the gun on his lap, wanting to end his story before blowing his brains out.

“And there is this other girl. She ain’t like the rest, cause she doesn’ fall for the lies. So I decided to approach her when she was alon’, kicked her head open and brought her to the back of my car. Forcer her and left her in the woods” Arvin’s finished. “Didn’ care if she was a ‘right or not. Just fucked her good and left her to die”

“Who are you, boy?” the preacher chuckled awkwardly, getting up. “Why don’t you take off your cap?”

“She was found, thankfully. Naked, bruised, unconscious. She doesn’t talk no more, just cries” Arvin’s voice was full of venom, finally taking off his cap. “But I don’ care, cause I ain’t responsible for that neither”

The preacher went to jump forward, maybe hoping to kill Arvin, scare him away or knock him unconscious. If it came to Arvin’s word against his, probably just a few people would believe Arvin; but the truth would come out eventually, and both of them knew it. No one would ever know what the preacher would have done then, because true to his word, Arvin Russell didn’t leave an inch of the preacher’s skin untouched from the bullets.

Later that night, Arvin walked into his dark room, knowing it would be his last night in Knockemstiff. He still didn’t have a plan, didn’t have a way to leave without being chased or hurting his family. For that night, he was just a scared boy whose responsibilities would have to wait.

He climbed into the room through the window, not making any noise and avoiding his grandma and grand uncle. If they didn’t know he was there that night, they wouldn’t have anything against the police; they would be safe. They would be just fine with the money he was leaving behind, probably a bit tight but enough to have a good life. The next problem, however, was harder. He let you nest against him when he crawled into bed, let you hide your face against his neck and not talk for another night of what happened that day. Not that there was much to talk, because it wouldn’t happen again.

Not knowing if you heard him or not, Arvin told you what he had done. Tears ran down his cheeks when he told you how he couldn’t stop pulling the trigger on him, how he would do it again and again, and how he felt guilty about not doing it sooner. The same as your father, he expected you not to hear a word of what he had said. But you surprised him when your shaky, thin hand made its way to his cheek and made him look at you.

“You can’t say anything, Arv” your whispered, the pale cheeks a contrast with your hard voice. “We need to run away”

“W-we?” Arvin frowned, confused. “You can’t – darlin’, I-I can’t… you and, uh, we –“

“You’re not leaving without me, Arvin Russell”

For the first time in a week, you pressed your lips against him. He had almost forgotten how it felt to have something good, not just rage and pain. Arvin let more tears fall as he slowly cradled the back of your head, not wanting to move in case it would end. It didn’t last longer, anyway; soon, you were tearing away. But rather than just cuddling his side, you laid your head against his shoulder and hug his middle.

He had thousands of thoughts that he wanted to say. That he was sorry, for not telling you sooner what he was doing and for not taking better care of you. That he should have taken care of the preacher on the begging, and not trusting on the advice of someone who killed himself in front of their kid. But he didn’t say anything, just hug you close, knowing there was no way he would leave the town without you.

Because together, everything felt like the right time.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Tom Holland and Peter Parker Taglist

@delicately-important-trash

@lexxxistrips

@smilexcaptainx

@aikaterrina

@zalladane

@gypsystuf (since you didn’t answer me, I just put you on the general taglist. Let me know if you want to change!)

@nikkixostan

@galaxystern08

@justifymyfeelings

A/N (my opinion on tdatt):

So, WOW. I saw it last night because I don’t have Netflix, so I had to meet a friend to watch it. And it was - wow. The way Tom Holland and Robert Pattinson go out of their way to work their accents and roles is amazing. Even though I hate the preacher’s character (who doesn’t), I loved how Robert works with him and makes him his. He’s always an amazing actor, but this time he outdid himself!

And Tom... Well, he got me with the first word he said. That part when he’s with Lenora and gets beaten up... and then, the way he avengers her from the bullies is amazing. I also loved watching how he had a relationship with a fem character that wasn’t romantical. He showed every emotion, thought and action with just his face, and I love him for it.

I don’t think it’s a film that should be seen just becuase he’s in it. It’s amazing, breath-taking and beautiful. I love this kind of films, but if you don’t is understable. It’s quite violent and can tigger anybody. Still, I’ll give it 8/10 - becuase I would have loved to see more of other characters! Message me if you want to talk about it

1K notes · View notes

fandom-go-round · 3 years

Note

Can I ask for an Obey Me! request? Where the brothers (if you dont want to do all of them then just whoever you feel like writing for) make casual comments about weight related things and they dont realize it upsets the plus size reader until later. like causal comments like "oh that's allot of food" and stuff like that. hurt /comfort please! love you!

Warnings: Fatphobia, Hurtful Comments about Reader’s Weight, Insecurities About Weight, Crying, Emotional Reactions

Mammon:

Mammon always has a way of sticking his foot in his mouth and this is no exception. You’re at a modeling job with him, waiting for him to finish up his shoot so you can go to dinner together. You had grabbed a large smoothie on the way over and are sipping as you watch, half curious about how modeling works and half checking him out. You’re almost done with the smoothie when he makes the comment, coming over to hang on a quick break.

“You’re not gonna need dinner at the rate you’re goin’!” There’s no malice in his voice but you freeze, eyes wide as you look to see if he really said what you thought he did. Mammon doesn’t notice, jogging back over to the set as his manager calls him over. The rest of your smoothie quickly goes into the trash and you spend the rest of the shoot looking at all of the models and cursing yourself; of course the Devildom values skinniness like Earth does.

It takes Mammon days to notice that he’s upset you, mostly because he’s too busy running the high of having money again. He does notice when you dip out of movie night and refuse to let him take you to dinner. Everything comes to a head when he barges into your room demanding an explanation and you’re crying.

He feels like absolute shit when you tell him what’s wrong. He blows off all your reassurances that you’re used to this and that you know he didn’t mean it. Weight isn’t an issue that Mammon has ever had to deal with but he does know about being teased and made fun of. He’s quick to beg your forgiveness and make things right. He becomes your number one supporter, buying you cute clothes and whatever you want to feel better. He’s quick to snarl at anyone who even makes a comment vaguely talking about weight in your direction. Mammon would support you if you wanted to lose weight but might pout a bit; he loves that you’re soft and have places for him to grab onto.

Leviathan:

Everyone knows that anime and manga have some of the most unrealistic women out there. That doesn’t stop people from being into it or loving 2D women more than real women. Being into anime before the Devildom had you prepared for this but Levi takes it to another level with Ruri-chan. You shouldn’t have been surprised by the comment but you would have thought Levi might be able to understand, considering his own insecurities.

“I don’t understand how anyone wouldn’t want to look like Ruri-chan! She’s the perfect woman!” You’re mind takes it the way you’ve always taken comments like that: ‘perfect woman’ means thin. You make an excuse to leave quickly after that, Levi only half noticing as he goes into another rant.

He doesn’t understand why you keep avoiding talking to him! An episode of your favorite anime is out and you refuse to come watch it with him! It’s blasphemy! It takes him almost a week to work up to nerve to come to your room and demand answers. Levi is a stuttering mess but when he finally gets out what he wants to talk about you look away, seeming almost as embarrassed as he is.

Levi starts to spiral in the middle of your explanation, blaming himself for being a gross otaku and giving you these thoughts. He know anime expectations are unrealistic (it’s one of the reasons why he likes it) but its another to see it used to hurt people. Both of you end of crying and there’s a lot of frank talk about body image. It’s a good way to bond, even if it did happen for a crappy reason. Levi is more sensitive to what he says and tries to find anime with more diverse characters. He also starts trying to find more plus size hentai… not for any reason in particular though!! He just wants to make sure there is some, that’s all!

Asmodeus:

Hanging out with Asmo can be a blessing and a curse. He’s beautiful and loves fashion and you love to go shopping with him. The downside to that is you have body negative days that tend to match up with Amo’s feeling great days. The shops in the Devildom are a lot like Earth’s; plus size store exist but they’re more expensive and harder to find. Asmo doesn’t fit into any of the stores you do and you never ask to go, not wanting to point out the obvious differences between the two of you.

“You really should take better care of yourself darling, just think of all the things that would look good on you if you did!” You freeze immediately at his words, dropping whatever you had been looking at like it burned you. Asmo had been watching you in the mirror, eyes trained on your hair and skin but all you could think of was your weight. That’s a harsh comment, coming from the Avatar of Lust and you have to resist the urge to burst into tears in the middle of the store.

He knows the moment you start holding back tears that he’s messed up but he has no idea what to do. He tries to explain himself but you wave him off just saying that ‘I’d like to go home now’. You both leave the store after that, heading back in silence. You quickly go to your room and skip dinner, making everyone interrogate him about what happened. Satan is the one who points out that it might be weight related and Asmo has to resist the urge to cry at the table.

He bursts into your room the next afternoon and forces you to get up. You were planning on staying in bed the entire day but he convinces you to have a spa day with him. You’re not mad at Asmo, just yourself. You know how vain he is so it shouldn’t have surprised you. Asmo, however, apologizes for the first ten minutes, practically begging you to forgive him. You have a conversation about dos and don’ts and Asmo takes it to heart, listening to you and trying to understand your struggles. After your spa day he surprises you by bringing out a mountain of outfits; he had run to some of the shops that fit you and got things! If there’s anything you hate it’s quick to disappear but he wants to pamper you and this is the best way he knows how.

Beelzebub:

Beel loves hanging out with you because you love food like he does. Not to the same physical amount of course, but you’re always willing to try new things and go new places with him. Everyone knows that if there’s a new restaurant you and Beel (and sometimes Belphie) are going to be some of the first people in line. Just because you love to eat doesn’t mean that you’re immune to the things people say about the two of you. You just wouldn’t have thought that Beel would say anything.

"That’s a lot of food.” You freeze, looking up from your plate to look across the table. Beel’s eyes are locked on your plate and not his own, even though his plate is pilled much higher than yours. “Are you going to eat it all?” You don’t hear anything after his second question, appetite suddenly gone. He doesn’t wait for your response, eating his own food with vigor and eating yours once you push it over to him.

You stop going out to eat with him after that, hardly eating at school or at the House of Lamentation. Sure, you eat enough so that no one says anything but Beel knows better. You don’t snack like you used to or eat cakes with him, you just eat and then that’s it. He talks to Belphie about it and his bother helps figure it out; when did they stop eating? Why? He puts it together after that, feeling horrible once he remembers you talking about how people used to make fun of you in the human world.

Beel shows up at your door the next day, a box from Madame Scream’s in hand and a determined look on his face. He asks to talk to you and you have a conversation about what he said, ignoring the box even as his stomach growls. He apologizes for upsetting you and says that he doesn’t care what size you are, he likes you for you. If people are going to make fun of you or try to bully you, he’ll protect you because you mean a lot to him. You end up splitting the box of treats with Beel, happier than you have been all week. He doesn’t tell you but he prefers that you’re bigger; he’s a big guy after all and it’s a relief not to worry about hurting you as much.

413 notes · View notes