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#he drinks a decent amount of whiskey when he gets home
bigassmoonchild · 6 months
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night team here
can we request ghost with a daughter that is the mini verison of him like soap thinks shes gonna be sweet and nice and she bullies him worse than her father does
bonus points
price already knew ghosts daughter was a complete savage but soap annoyed him that morning and price decided the consequences of his actions was being brutally roasted
(daughter is gonna be leaning teens just bc i said so. also, thank you so much for the request!! love the night team 🫶🫶)
soap wasn’t supposed to know. this wasn’t something anyone was supposed to know, but simon was decently okay with price knowing. price knew to keep secrets, hell, price had his own.
but simon accidentally let it slip.
‘i’ve gotta get home, early morning,’ he’d told the 141 when they wanted to go out for drinks after a successful mission. they gave him odd looks (one of them was a knowing one, but he’d ignore price being offered to come watch a recital).
soap didn’t let it go, no he didn’t. ‘got the missus waiting back there?’ and simon was exhausted, it was a long mission and all he wanted was to sleep in his own house.
‘kids got a recital,’ he’d muttered and had walked away. what he didn’t expect was to find a huge amount of messages from soap the next morning. most consisted of the same things.
kid??
who’d have a child with you??
what’s the mother look like?
what’s the kids name?
son or daughter?
maybe i wanted to come watch too
i’m technically their uncle
and simon had to leave, collected you from your grandmother and took you to the recital. you were beautiful, the pride and joy of his life. someone he’d never thought he’d ever had, someone he never knew he could love more than anything.
it took months for simon to wear down enough ti even allow any of them to see a picture of you, let alone know your name.
‘beauty, that one is. you sure she came from you?’ simon shoved soap off the chair for that comment. soap continued to rave about being an ‘uncle’ and as much as simon didn’t want it, he had to tell you.
you looked at him weird when he admitted he’d spoken about you to the 141. you knew, generally, what he did but you didn’t get details.
‘ok and?’ you’d asked. ‘what’re they gonna do? it’s not like they’re gonna do something behind your back, not like price has said anything,’ and he worried. maybe he coddled you a little, but you were his girl.
and you’d agreed to meeting them, but told simon you didn’t want to know when. ‘i’ll be thinking about it too much,’ you told him.
simon finally dropped a few names for you, late one night when he’d finally relaxed with some whiskey (he didn’t mention the watered down taste).
‘what kinda name is soap? he drop it or something?’
it took some time before simon had grown any sort of comfortable letting anyone but price be around you. it wasn’t common that you stayed by price when simon was out on a mission, but the occasion happened when it was possibly a fatal one.
it was early morning when you’d sent a text to simon, he hadn’t meant to go to the compound at all that day but had made a lunch. it was a picture of the lunch, still sitting in the fridge with the caption ‘you forget something?’
and he’d groaned, mentioning to price in passing that he forgot his lunch at home. soap and gaz had been there, and a little smile came from soap.
‘just have the lass bring it ‘round, i’m sure she’s dying to meet her uncles,’ price gave a little grimace. ‘what? she’s probably a sweetheart, i cant imagine a girl like her would turn out like ghost,’
you’d relented to bring it around, especially after price messaged you about soap not being able to shut up about meeting you.
he’s pressing me for information. -john
if you bring the food, i’ll give your dad an extra day of leave. -john
please, i’m about to make him run. -john
you always laughed a little when he signed off after each text. it was his own little thing, and you secretly enjoyed having a fatherly figure text you more than three words.
when you got to the compound, you found price waiting outside for you and you waggled the bag of food at him. he let you in, guiding you through the halls to where simon and the others were.
‘try not to forget it, next time,’ you told simon. he gave you a small grunt, one that sounded like his ‘thank you’.
soap walked up to you, giving you a cheeky grin and swinging his arm around your shoulder. ‘how’s it been, lass?’ he asked you and you shook his arm off.
‘you know it’s not the 80’s anymore, right?’ he blinked at you. snorting softly with an eye roll, you sat down in the nearest chair. ‘mullets back in style, you know. might fit you better,’ you commented.
soap was left with his mouth open, gesturing faintly to you then to simon. ‘she can’t be like you,’ he nearly hissed.
‘don’t act so surprised, she said damn near the same thing to me,’ price lamented, thinking back on his first time meeting you.
‘you from the 1800’s? christ, i haven’t seen anyone willingly have that beard,’ you’d told him oh so long ago.
you looked around, leaning towards him. ‘who else am i supposed to be like? i’m pretty sure he’s my father,’ you hissed back.
all soap could do was blink. a little ghost? no, he couldn’t believe it. he saw simon give you a little fist bump, almost saw a few dollars being passed between you two.
simon pulled his mask off to eat and you looked at him closely. ‘you get a haircut?’ you asked, squinting your eyes suspiciously.
‘nope,’ he responded. ‘got ‘em all cut,’ and you snorted a short laugh. soap couldn’t do much but watch the interaction, realization slowly settling in.
‘that’s why you tell those shitty jokes?’ he announced. ‘you’re actually a father telling dad jokes,’
you gave a little smile and he could see the admiration in your eyes. god, you were just like your father but the confidence came off of you so easily.
‘yknow he came to my parents job show and tell once,’ you told everyone and simon stared at you. almost daring you to finish. ‘he didn’t take the mask off and had to leave, he scared too many of the kids,’
you spoke so fondly of him.
‘but he’s a prick, so he just left,’ simon lightly kicked your leg and you made a big show of it. you might be his kid, but you had your own personality in there.
and simon would be dead before anyone took that from you.
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messrmoonyy · 1 year
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Can you do a 5 + 1 style fic for Tess? Mix in fluff and smut and angst. Maybe 5 times she says she loves you? +1 Or 5 times she kisses you? Something like that. Thanks for taking the time I love your stuff ❤️
5 times Tess kissed you and 1 time she couldn’t
Tess Servopoulos x Fem!reader
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A/N- I haven’t written a 5+1 in forever so this was fun! Honestly she’s a soft little baby for the majority of this, mostly cause I wanted to make the 1 hurt more 😃 she’s sweet and soft. She’s baby. The dialogue from the end part is not directly taken from the show cause I don’t like taking all the exact dialogue I want to make it my own. So there’s pieces but not completely exact. Some are longer than others. Only proofread once.
Warnings- 18+ because there’s a smidge of smut. Fluff, drunkness / drinking, smut: oral ( r receiving ) , mentions of injury/violence,
Word count- 6.9k
Masterlist
Reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3
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ONE
It had been a really bad day.
A really bad day. One of those where every single awful thing that had ever happened to you, crept out from the dark corner of your brain that you locked them away in. Thankfully you’d had no work assignments and had spent the day hiding away in your apartment. You were supposed to have met Tess after her own assignment, plans to get rid of some of your stock on her break in between shifts. But you’d stayed home. 
5 years had passed since outbreak day and the amount of shit you had seen in that time… it crept up on you from time to time. She’d understand. 
She’d probably be a little bit pissed at you when you saw her next, if you were honest, but at that moment you didn’t really give a fuck. All you wanted to do was lay in bed and ignore the memories bouncing around your brain. 
You’d had a decent amount of self restraint all day, you hadn’t touched either of the bottles of whiskey under your bed. Or any of the pills. It would’ve been the easy option, knock yourself out with a couple of oxy or see how much whiskey you could drink before it made you pass out. But for the most part you’d restrained yourself, knowing it would only take the pain away temporarily. 
You saw it first hand in Joel. The way he dosed himself up on whatever pills he could get his hands on, only to be just as traumatised the next morning. 
Though by 4:30 your self restraint was gone. You’d finally cracked open a bottle and poured yourself a glass, ready to spend your night drinking yourself into a stupor. Maybe a mixture of pride for holding out so long, but also too terrified to go to sleep. Scared of what fucked up dreams your mind might conjure up. 
Until you heard a knock at the door. 
You sighed in frustration and got up from your spot at the kitchen table and grabbed your keys, pulling open the door ready to tell whoever it was to piss off. But your frustration dissipated when you saw who was standing there. 
Tess had her hands in her pockets, brows furrowing slightly as she looked over you. You didn’t even say anything, just left the door open and dropped your keys back on the side table by the door, leaning heavily against it. 
“ oh someones started early “ she said with a raised eyebrow as she sauntered into your apartment and grabbed the bottle from the table, eyeing the glass before shrugging and drinking straight from the bottle “ how much catching up do I need to do? “
“ I only had one glass “
“ oh that’s easy “ you watched her bring the bottle to her lips again, wincing slightly as the amber liquid burned on its way down. You slid down the wall where you stood, too tired to even make the short distance back to your chair at the table “ you know there’s a perfectly good couch right? “ you waved a hand in dismissal in her direction and leant your head back against the wall behind you. 
You hadn’t even done anything all day. But your muscles felt heavy, your body exhausted. There might as well have been lead in your veins, the weight of your past heavily anchoring you to the floor. 
Your eyes dragged up and down her as she stood by the table, shrugging off her jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair. She took another swig from the bottle and you sighed. 
“ you gonna share that or what? “ she scoffed and made her way over, groaning slightly as she sat down on the floor next to you. 
“ I’m too old for sitting on the fuckin floor “ You accepted the bottle, taking a swig before holding the neck loosely between your fingers. 
“ you’re barely in your fuckin 30s “ 
“ the ever looming fear of being turned into a mushrooms puppet will really age a person “ you rolled your eyes and took another drink. You hoped the alcohol would push the heaviness away, but Tess was enough of a distraction even if it wouldn’t. 
“ gonna tell me where you were today? “ you gestured to your surroundings and she sighed, taking the bottle from you which you took right back “ what’s going on? “ 
“ one of them days “ one thing you loved about Tess? She didn’t pry. She didn’t push. She took what you gave her and didn’t ask for more. In the same way you always did for her. In the days where it was you at the door of her apartment. When she couldn’t bare to leave the safety of those four walls and face the day. You didn’t push. 
“ I have something that’ll cheer you up” she took the bottle from you as she said it, clearly trying to catch up with the amount you were downing. The warm, fuzzy feeling alcohol gave you was settling over your head “ I was on sewer maintenance “ she drank some more “ this one fuckin officer… he was being such an ass “
“ they’re all asses “ you mumbled, sighing and closing your eyes as you let the whisky push away the heaviness and lull you into that relaxed, giggly, care free state it always did before you pushed into the next stage of drunkness. Where you couldn’t walk straight and forgot what you’d been doing when you woke up the next morning. 
That first stage was nice. Bubble headed and warm, the giggles and wooziness that came with being tipsy. 
“ they are. But this one? Fuckin dick “ 
“ how is this supposed to be funny Tess? “ 
“ be fuckin patient I’m getting there “ you rolled your eyes, taking the bottle back “ so he’s being an ass. And this guy was done with his shit- literally “ a string of giggles bubbled past your lips at that “ and so the ass starts shouting, telling him to get back to work. And as he’s yelling, he’s walking. Doesn’t look where he’s going “
“ oh no “ the giggles grew as you anticipated where the story was heading, shifting closer to her and turning in her direction “ god please tell me what I think you’re gonna tell me “ 
“ face first. Straight in the fuckin water. Half the QZs shit on his face “ you both burst into laughter, the imagine of a FEDRA asshole face first in a pile of shit water truly the highlight of your day “ I told you it would make you laugh “ she said through her own laughter, a sound you didn’t get to hear very often. 
You lay your head on her shoulder and sighed, as your giggles began dying down. Tess brought a hand up and cupped your cheek lightly leaning her face against your head. 
“ I like when you laugh “ she said, her voice soft “ better than seeing you grumpy “ 
“ yeah? “
“ yeah. I do. Its cute “ you lifted your head, your chin on her shoulder and wiggling your eyebrows at her
“ oh you think I’m cute? “ you both erupted into giggles again, your faces close to each other and laughing like a pair of kids who just got caught trying to steal cookies from the jar “ youuuu think I’m cuteee “ you said in a silly sing song voice and poked at her arm. 
“ you’re wasted “ 
“ hmm maybe but so are you “ she shrugged and pushed your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear 
“ maybe “ your eyes flickered to where the backs of her fingers were brushing against your cheek now, her touch gentle and soft. 
“ I think you’re cute too for what it’s worth “ you said quietly, the alcohol swimming though your veins speaking words you’d been holding onto for months. 
“ you do? “ 
“ I do “ you said it a little too quickly but you didn’t care. Not when she was that close to you, her fingers on your face and practically sat in each others laps “ I have for a while “
“ I know “ you scoffed at that, trailing you hand up her arm and brushing across her jaw lightly 
“ course you fuckin do “ 
“ you’re not subtle “ 
“ and you wait until now to tell me that? That’s fucked” you said, laughing again. And it made a grin spread across her own face. 
“ I can stop. I can leave and pretend I didn’t say it. Give me the word and I’ll go right now “ your hands twisted into the collar of her shirt and you shook your head. 
“ is this just cause you’re drunk? “ you whispered, trying to clear away the fog in some attempt to figure out if this was real or not. 
“ no “ she shook her head, nudging her nose against yours “ no. No it’s not “ all your sadness from earlier in the day was something of the past, it didn’t matter anymore. Not in that moment “ tell me to stop “ her voice was barely a whisper, so close her lips were brushing yours as she spoke. 
“ m’not gonna do that “
“ good “ it was just a gentle kiss at first. Soft. Lingering. You parted for a few seconds, then she was grabbing at your face with both hands, forcefully pulling you back in a way that took the air from your lungs. 
She tasted like the whiskey you’d both been drinking and… something else. Something you’d been yearning for for too long. It wasn’t exactly how you’d expected your first kiss with her to be. You hadn’t exactly imagined some movie, fairytale romance thing. But you also hadn’t imagined the current situation either. 
It was desperate. All tongues and teeth, her hands tugging at the hair in the nape of your neck, yours twisting into the material of her shirt. The kind of kiss that would leave your lips swollen and red when she was done with you. 
Part of your mind that wasn’t all that drunk yet, questioned if this would even be happening if you were both sober. But the louder part was screaming in excitement, telling the other to shut up. That that was something to worry about tomorrow. Not now. Not when she was kissing you like her life depended on it. 
You had to pull apart at some point, gasping for air as you finally parted. You were both quiet for a few moments, just your heavy breaths the sounds between you. She moved away first, reaching for the bottle again and taking a big gulp. 
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TWO
Your back arched off the mattress, fingers lacing into her hair as Tess smiled against your cunt, not stopping for a single second in her ministration’s. She was eating like a woman starved, her long slender fingers reaching places inside of you that you never really knew existed. 
“ Jesus fuckin Christ Tess “ you whined, hand patting around for hers. She slid the hand that had been pressing your hips down, up your waist before grabbing your hand. She threaded her fingers with yours, squeezing softly. 
“ I got you baby “ she said, her voice gentle in comparison to the way she curled her fingers inside of you in a steady rhythm “ you gonna come for me? Yeah? “ 
“ yes. Yes. Fuck “ you whined, high pitched sounds leaving your throat as her tongue pressed against your clit again “ just like that “ 
You came on her fingers moments later, a bone shattering grip on her hand as she worked you through it. Not wasting a single drop your slick cunt had to offer. She stopped when you squirmed away from her, the sensation too much. 
Her thumb rubbed circles into your hand and she pressed soft kisses across your thighs and your stomach as you came down, letting your breathing regain its normal pattern. 
“ Tess “ you said softly, and she got the hint, moving her way back up your body and letting your grabby hands pull her down to kiss you. The taste of you lingered on her lips but you didn’t care, hand pulling at her neck to keep her there. You hummed a soft moan into her mouth, making her smile against you. 
“ that good? “ she asked with a grin on her face, when she pulled back, pushing your hair away from your damp forehead.
“ it was alright I guess “ Tess scoffed and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face 
“ you little shit “ she said with a shake of her head and nudged you lightly, rolling onto her back next to you. You propped yourself on your elbow and traced your fingers in nonsense patterns across her skin “ you in a better mood now at least? “ 
“ wasn’t even in a bad mood “ you grumbled, tracing over the lines of her collarbones and down her sternum and back up again. Sometimes when you couldn’t sleep you’d make patterns in her freckles, or trace your fingers over her scars and ask her where each one came from. 
“ sure. You’ve been grumpy as fuck all morning “ you shrugged and she grabbed your hand that was trailing over her skin “ seemed a little happier a minute ago though ‘ oh Tess! Just like like that! ‘ “ you slapped her arm as she pulled a terrible impression of you, her voice high pitched and dramatic 
“ shut up! I don’t sound like that! “ she laughed, grabbing at your hands as you tried to push her off the bed. 
“ oh? You don’t? Huh? “ you clambered on top of her, grabbing at her hands and attempting to pin them down beside her head “ so that wasn’t you moaning my name less than five minutes ago? No? “ 
“ shut up holy shit “ she was still grinning as you managed to push her hands down in a way that was a little too easy for it not to have been intentional. 
“ oh well look at you “ 
“ you’re mean “ 
“ I am? “ you nodded and leant down, lips brushing against hers. 
“ so mean “ she smiled as you said it, tilting her head up to capture your lips again “ making fun of me. Such a bitch” she scoffed at that and you squealed as she pushed at you, so you were now the one with your wrists pinned against the mattress. 
“ I don’t like that tone baby “ you couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face, gasping when she pressed her thigh between your legs. 
“ and what are you gonna do about it? “ 
“ oh. You’ll see “ 
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THREE
The night was not going to plan. At all. You’d been fucked over. Some stupid fucker working for Robert who you were supposed to be trading with. They’d brought pills that were nothing but compacted powdered sugar, trying to screw you over. 
You, Tess and Joel had secured a pretty decent name for yourself within the underground scene of Boston. People trusted you, were loyal to you and didn’t take their business else where. But with that came the fuckers who wanted to challenge it. Who wanted your client base. Wanted the power that the three of you were gaining every day. 
It had gotten messy when you noticed the pills looked different, one taste telling you that you weren’t holding a baggie of Oxy or Hydro. But a bunch of useless shit. Most of the fuckers were now dead or dying in a back alley somewhere in zone 5, you both had guns and all they had were crappy shivs and planks. But somewhere In the tussle, Tess had gotten stabbed trying to defend you. Even though you could take care of yourself. A handmade shiv to the side. 
You’d put him down. The metal pipe one of his friends had tried to hit you with raining down on him until you heard the sickening crunch of god knows what part of him breaking. You’d put a bullet in his face too for good measure. 
It was a miracle you’d managed to get her back to your apartment without being spotted. But she was stubborn and wasn’t the type to scream and cry even if she did have a giant hole in her side. 
“ alright alright. Here we go on the table I need a flat surface “ it wasn’t particularly smooth or glamorous the way you flopped her onto the kitchen table, rushing to pull various shit from cupboards in the kitchen to try and stop your girlfriend from fucking bleeding out. 
“ Jesus fuckin Christ “ she groaned, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. You hurried back over to her, taking her blood soaked hands and gently pulling them away from where she was keeping pressure on her wound “ I swear to fuck if this is how I die- “
“ shut the fuck up “ you pushed up her shirt and started wiping away as much blood from the wound as you could, cleaning it as much as was possible in the circumstances “ you’re not dying. I’m no Florence fucking nightingale but I’m gonna patch you up. And you’re gonna be so pissed at me tomorrow because I stitch you up wonky, but that’s okay. Cause I saved your fucking life so you should be grateful “ 
She actually cracked a small smile at that, eyes locked on your face as you worked at cleaning her up. 
“ so grateful “ you examined the wound in the light of the crappy portable lamps, almost thanking the Lord when it didn’t seem to be too deep. No punctured organs you could hope. You reached for the needle and thread, but your hands were shaking too much to thread the needle and you cursed under your breath “ calm down “ it almost made you laugh. She was the one with a stab wound. Yet she was comforting you. The way she always did. 
“ I’m calm “ 
“ tell that to your face “ you glared at her and focussed on threading the needle.
You wanted to be pissed at her as she lay there watching you. She was too protective sometimes. You liked it. You couldn’t deny that but not when it meant she was getting hurt. Not when she put herself in harms way. Idiot.
You finally got the needle threaded and sat down to look at the wound. 
“ not too deep it should be okay. Gonna hurt though “ 
“ funny I always thought you were the masochist and I was the sadist “ you threw her a look, unable to stop the smile that tugged at your lips. 
“ you’re such an idiot “ her breath was shaky as you started stitching her up, trying to remain as neat as possible. She shifted as you clearly hit a more tender spot, a jumbled string of curse words leaving her mouth. 
“ wait until I get my hands on that motherfucker “ she spat, hissing in pain as you pushed the needle through her skin again, trying to be quick and get it over with. 
“ yeah? What you gonna do? Tell me “ talking was good. She’d taught you that. The times she’d had to patch you up, making you talk to keep your mind off of the pain. 
“ bash his- shit. Bash his fuckin skull in “
“ mhm and what else? “ you asked, wiping at the blood that continued to trickle down her stomach “ details. I want details “ you pushed, keeping her talking. Keeping her distracted. Making her brain tick over with how she planned to beat the living shit out of Robert, not about how painful a blunt needle and sewing thread felt dragging though her skin. 
“ maybe I should take some tips from you. You really fucked that asshole up, huh? “
“ well I learned from the best “ she gave a short laugh, eyes still locked on your face. 
“ fucking Robert “ 
“ mhm fuckin Robert “ you said as you made the final stitch. Her eyes were still on you as you doused the wound in alcohol, in some hope it would kill off at least some of the shit that might cause an infection “ there you go “ 
She pushed her self up onto her elbows with a groan, looking down at your handy work 
“ pretty as a fuckin picture “ 
“ I know. Should’a been a nurse “ you moved to clear away all the shit you’d been using, but she grabbed at your wrist. 
“ thank you “
“ of course “ she pulled you down and you pressed a kiss to her lips lightly, her split lip giving it the metallic taste of blood.
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FOUR
You woke up in a cold sweat, thrashing around as the covers clung to your arms and legs in a way that felt too constricting. The horrors of whatever had been tormenting you in your sleep still assaulting you, even with your eyes open. 
You couldn’t even fully comprehend what your brain was showing you, just that you knew it was terrifying. Odd faces of your family, of people you had killed. 
“ baby. Baby! Hey! Calm down you’re okay! it’s me! It’s me. I’ve got you “ as your eyes began to focus on your surroundings, your eyes clearing of the dark fog of the nightmare that had attacked your peaceful sleep, you focussed on the strong hands gripping at your arms. The calm voice filtering through your own screams, hitting your ears. 
You reached out in the dark for her, squeezing her tightly when she pulled you into her arms. 
“ Tess “ you sobbed, praying it was her that had you trapped in her arms. Of course it was. It was always her, always the one to pull you back to reality when the nightmares got to you. 
“ that’s right. It’s me, you’re alright. Just a dream, I got you. It’s just a dream all a dream baby girl “ she murmured softly into your hair, stroking her hands over your back and gently shushing you. 
You hated when all the shit you had done came back to haunt you. It made you feel weak. Pathetic. 
Your own mind was punishing you. Attacking you from the inside out for being a shitty person. It never seemed to affect Tess. She had always been stronger than you, always the one doing the comforting. 
“ I’m sorry I- I didn’t mean to wake you I’m sorry- “
“ don’t be sorry. It’s okay “ you pressed your face against her neck, breathing in her scent in some attempt to ground yourself again “ baby “ she gently nudged your face up to look at her, hands cupping your cheeks gently “ you’re home, you’re safe. I’m right here “  
She brushed her thumbs over your tears, her tired eyes scanning your face. She had bags under her eyes, more scars littering her skin in the years since you’d first met her. But those eyes were still the same. No matter how much shit you both did, she still looked at you the same. 
“ you should go back to sleep “ you shook your head. Not wanting to go back to the fucking horrors that were waiting for you the second you closed your eyes  
“ cant. Cant do that shit again “ she sighed but nodded and sat back against the headboard, pulling you with her. 
“ alright. Then we stay awake “ her voice was soft, no sarcasm. No joking. She had to be up early for work, yet she would sacrifice her sleep to stay awake all night with you “ we can talk. Or you can lose at cards to me. Whatever you want, we’ll do it “ you looked up at her, her face illuminated by the moonlight seeping through the gap in the curtains. 
“ I love you “ you whispered, overcome with emotion as you looked at her. You didn’t say it to each other often. In fact she had let it slip maybe three times over the time you’d been together. She was uncomfortable with it. Never wanting to confront and confirm that she had someone she loved. That she had a weakness. That she had somebody to lose. 
She pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and then your lips, telling you without saying it. 
“ I know baby. I know “ 
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FIVE
If someone had told you that in the middle of the apocalypse you’d be out sunbathing, eating fresh fruit like you were on some kind of vacation. You’d have laughed in their faces. Yet there you were. The backyard of the house next door to Bill and Franks. They’d fixed it up when your visits there grew more regular a few years back. Frankly Bill didn’t seem to pleased by it. Some bullshit ‘ resource management’ thing. But Frank had said he’d loved the project. 
And it meant you got the only slice of true… normality the world had to offer you. You could play pretend. Act like the world was fine. That you and Tess were living in that little town, doing normal human things. Dinner parties with your neighbours, sunbathing in the garden and picnics. It made the return to Boston all that much harder each time, a shocking return to reality. One that was grey and smoky and filled with FEDRA assholes looking for any excuse to shoot. But in the moment, you lived in your make believe world. Forgetting you even had to go back there. 
You could lie in the grass with Tess. And pretend. 
“ I forgot what real strawberries tasted like “ you sighed, savouring every tiny bite of the fruit Frank had brought round for you both “ this is better than sex “ 
“ that’s fuckin rude “ you smiled up at her from where your head rested in her lap, her hair tied up and shiny with the nice shampoos Bill had stocked. She always looked brighter in Lincoln. Not just because the sun was shining and there wasn’t that ever looming greyness. She glanced down at you and your final tiny bites of strawberry “ why are you eating it so slowly? “
“ I’m savouring it “ she rolled her eyes but a smile was pulling at her lips. She started running a hand through your hair, making you sigh as the sun made your body feel sleepy and warm. Safe. 
You wondered if it was what life would’ve been like if the world hadn’t exploded. Of course you knew it wouldn’t in a way. You had lived miles away from Michigan, you probably would never have met. She’d probably still be married, maybe even had another kid as well as her son. Grown old and grey with a bunch of grandkids and died safe and warm in her bed. 
You shocked yourself a little at the jealousy that bubbled up in your chest at the thought. You didn’t want to think about her with someone else. She was yours. You were hers. That was it. 
You would have met. You would have ended up how you wanted. A cosy house and friendly neighbours. Dinner parties. Picnics. Dates. Safe and warm in your bed. 
“ is this technically a date? “ you suddenly asked, opening your eyes again as you got caught up in your daydreaming. Tess shrugged, her eyes closed as she let the sun warm her face. She had a thing for fresh air, always talking about how stuffy the city air was. How she loved being outside of the walls where the air was cleaner. 
“ you want it to be a date? “ you shrugged, her voice sounding slightly teasing. 
“ forget it “
“ oh come on I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It can be a date “ she looked down at you, stroking her hand over your hair. 
“ we’ve been together for all these years and never had a date “ 
“ there’s not exactly many options in the QZ is there “ you sighed and she gave you a look riddled with sympathy “ every time we visit you get like this “ she said softly “ you… drift “ you sat up, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on your hands. 
“ because I feel normal here “ you confessed “ I can pretend. Pretend we’re normal “ it felt silly to say out loud and you waited for her to laugh at you or make a joke. But she didn’t. She just gave a gentle nod “ I don’t have to worry about getting fucking jumped on my way home because someone wants our cards, or selling pills to officers that could have us hung up the gallows if they felt like it. I can forget that we’re shitty people for a bit “ 
Tess was quiet as you spoke, letting your words hang between you. You wondered if it would stem into one of her bad moods. She liked the position you had back in Boston. She liked the power. The control. But you were growing tired of it. And you didn’t know how much longer you could keep it up. Not when you got a taste of the opposite anytime you visited Bill and Franks. 
“ then let’s pretend “ she said after a few moments, standing up and holding out her hand to you “ come on “ you took her hand and she pulled you into her arms, guiding yours around her neck before looping her own around your waist “ I worry too “ she confessed  
“ sure “
“ I do. I worry all the time. About you. There is nothing and no one else in this world that I care about as much as you. You think I like all that shit we do? I do it because it means we have food. And safety. You have food and safety “ 
“ you love that shit don’t play with me Tess “ she sighed and shrugged 
“ I like control. But if I had to give that up to keep you safe? I’d do it in a fuckin heartbeat “ she closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath “ you know. When Joel is done with the battery thing… the Tommy thing. We could lay low for a while “ you quirked an eyebrow at that 
“ you? Lay low? Yeah I’ll believe that when I fuckin see it “ 
“ I’m serious. Im getting too old for that bullshit “ the look in her eyes seemed genuine. She was serious. 
“ really? “
“ maybe we could… even stay here. For a while. I could convince them to let us stay. Bill might like having some extra help for Frank “ you pondered on it, leaving the shitty zone behind. Your illegal runs. Your drug running. Live out the rest of your days in the peace and quiet of Lincoln “ we do this final run with Joel. I’m finalising the trade with Robert for a battery. Joel is sorting the truck. We get him to Tommy in one piece and then… we come back here. Yeah? “ 
Your face lit up and you nodded, a small laugh leaving your mouth. 
“ I’d. I’d like that “ Tess smiled too, nudging her fingers under your chin and pulling you in to kiss her. 
“ hmm you taste like strawberry “ 
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+ ONE
Tess was acting weird. Erratic. It wasn’t like her. You stood hopelessly with Joel as she charged around the room, chucking shit out of boxes and checking the pockets of the dead firefly’s on the floor. Searching for something. Anything. 
“ Tess. What’re you doing? “ Joel spoke before you could. You couldn’t move from where you were stood, an awful biting feeling in your chest as you watched her. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. This wasn’t your Tess. Tess wasn’t erratic and wild. She was organised. Concise. She knew what she was doing at all times and had full control of the situation. 
“ I mean there’s gotta be a map or something right? “ Joel looked over at you, eyebrows raised in some silent request for you to see what the fuck was going on with her. But you still couldn’t move “ Ellie. Did Marlene say where this hospital was? Did she say where she was taking you? “
“ no I- just some place west “
“ west. Fuckin west “ she went back to ferreting through their pockets, chucking useless shit like a pen and a pair of glasses across the room. 
“ Tess we’re done here. Let’s just go home and- “
“ that’s not my fuckin home “ she wouldn’t look at you. Even though your eyes were burning into her, she avoided your gaze. Something was wrong “ our luck had to run out sooner or later “ she said, standing up from where she’d been searching one of the bodies. 
Luck. 
Luck?
“ holy shit. She’s infected “ Ellie’s voice broke the small silence that had fallen over the group, her tone sounding pained as she said the words you had been refusing to even think about. 
The look on her face was enough of an answer for you. And it was the thing that finally made you move. You crossed the distance between you in purposeful strides, stopping in front of her 
“ show me “ 
“ look I- “
“ show. Me “ you watched her jaw clench as she grabbed the collar of her shirt and pulled it down to reveal exactly what was wrong with her. 
A set of teeth marks surrounded by angry, red skin. Blood was oozing out of the wound, a colour too dark to be normal. But the worst part? You could see the tendrils of the fungus under her skin, raised in her veins as they crawled closer and closer to her brain. The bite was on her shoulder and the fungus was already reaching up the side of her neck. How fast did it move? How long had it been since you’d ran into the clickers? 10 minutes ago? If that? 
They had been the only run in youd had. It had been the only possible place she could’ve gotten bitten. In 10 minutes it was already spreading that far? 
Your mind rushed back to the museum. The clickers that had rushed you, separating you both from Joel and Ellie. The way she had pushed you out of the way of one of them. But she had killed it. How could it possibly have…
“ oops, right? “ she said quietly, eyes glassy with tears that she seemed to be desperately attempting to hold in. Your brain refused to process the information. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 
It was Tess. Strong and brave and smart Tess. Tess that killed infected like it was nothing. That had lasted 20 fucking years and never been bitten. Tess that was taking you to Lincoln to live out the rest of your days in safety. 
“ Tess- “ she pushed past you and headed for Ellie before you could say anything else, her mind clearly preoccupied. 
“ bandage off. Show me your arm “ you watched her grab Ellie’s arm, ignoring your presence now and talking to Joel. Her mouth was moving but your ears were ringing too loud, not focussing on what she was saying. Watching as her hand started shaking, twitching. It was attacking her nervous system already. 
How long would it be until it was in her brain? Controlling and taking over the mind of the woman you loved. Claiming her body as it’s own, her thoughts, her feelings, turning her into an empty shell of a human. A puppet. 
Your fingers prickled with the lack of air entering your lungs, anxiety overwhelming you, your chest tight and head light. The sudden realisation of what was happening crashing down on you, suffocating you with a heavy weight on your chest that made it feel as though your lungs were collapsing. 
“ oh shit you’re not infected too are you? You don’t look right man “ both Tess and Joel turned to you as Ellie spoke, her voice sounding echoed and far off. 
“ I think I’m having a heart- a heart attack “ you gasped, shaking your head and grabbing at your chest. She appeared in front of you, hands reaching out to you before pulling them away again. 
“ you’re not having a heart attack “ Joel was talking again, but you couldn’t hear him. Your eyes were locked on hers, the tears she’d been holding back silently rolling over her cheeks. She reached out for you again and actually let herself touch you this time. Her hands were trembling as she placed them on your arms. Was it the infection? Or was she scared? Or was it both? 
“ Tess- “
“ shhh let me talk I don’t have a lot of time “ your eyes fell down to the bite mark peaking over the collar of her shirt and she squeezed your arms lightly “ hey. Up here. Look at me not that “ you dragged your eyes back up to her face. Even if it was just so you could burn it into the backs of your eyelids, every single line and scar and freckle that it held “ Joel’s gonna get you and the kid to Bill and Franks- “
“ I’m not- “
“ shut. The fuck up. You get to Bill and Franks they’ll know what to do with the kid. And hey. They love you, they’ll let you stay there with them even if I’m not there- “
“ I’m not going to fuckin Bill and and Franks without you “
“ yes you are. Get the kid there. Bill and Frank they’ll look after you. They owe me “ before you could protest again you startled as one of the body’s on the other side of the room suddenly moved, screeching before Joel shot it in the head. 
There was a commotion somewhere outside, drawing Joel over the door of the building. You looked down at the man he’d just shot, the moss and earth beneath his fingers moving. You’d heard that the fungus could grow underground, knew it could connect colonies of infected miles apart. Is that what it was? Drawing a whole heard of infected in your direction? 
“ how many? “ Tess asked 
“ all of em “ she gave a small nod, hastily wiping away her tears and leaving you again. You watched her as she started pushing barrels over, tossing boxes of grenades and ammo onto the floor. 
“ what are you doing? “ 
“ making sure they won’t follow you “ your ears were ringing again, head aching as the fumes from the barrels drifted into your nose. 
Your hands slipped into your hair, pulling at it in a way that surely made you looked mad. But you needed to feel your scalp prickle with pain, something to wake you up from the fucking nightmare you were living through. 
You watched her talking to Joel again, shaking your head as you tried to wake yourself up. Waiting to feel her hands pull you into her arms and tell you it was okay. It was all a dream and you were safe.
But it didn’t come. You were awake. You were living the nightmare. 
You heart was aching in your chest. You felt as though you could feel each and every heartstring snapping. You had often wondered how after so many of millions of years that human beings had walked the earth, living and adapting to their surroundings, they had not evolved enough to not feel the splintering pain of heartbreak. How had humans evolved so thoroughly, so much that they could adapt to live even after the world had gone to shit. Trained themselves to use guns and knifes to protect themselves yet left their hearts so delicate, so vulnerable that something as fickle as love could cause such a gut wrenching pain.
You’d much rather take a knife to the gut or a bullet to the head. You were certain it would hurt less. 
She reappeared in front of you a few moments later. Her hands cupped your face and you wrapped your fingers tightly around her wrists. 
“ I love you. I’m sorry I never told you as much I should’ve “ she was saying goodbye
“ I’m not fuckin going anywhere Tess you can stop with bullshit goodbyes”
“ you’re gonna get out of here. And go to Bill and Frank. And you’re gonna grow old as them fuckers, you’re gonna be safe. And eat strawberries. And paint with Frank and lay in the sun. You’re gonna live. The way that you’ve always wanted to “ she didn’t get it. Didn’t understand. You wanted those thins. But only if she was there with you. Not alone “ they’ll look after you “ 
“ you look after me “ she closed her eyes, shaking her head as tears kept flowing down both of your faces. 
“ I can’t anymore “ she whispered. 
The noise outside was growing louder, hundreds of infected barely a minute away. 
“ I’m staying here. With you “ she shook her head again and pressed her forehead to yours for a second. 
“ I’m sorry “ your brow furrowed “ Joel “ you realised what was happening a second too late. Joel’s arm wrapped tightly around your waist, lifting you from your feet 
“ let me fuckin go! Put me down! Joel! “ you thrashed and kicked and punched but Joel was stronger than you, no reaction to your squirming as he dragged Ellie along with his other hand. Tears streamed down your face as you craned your neck to try and see her, every ounce of energy you had being used to try and break free of Joel’s tight grip “ Tess! Joel please! Please we can’t leave her. We can’t! Joel! “ 
It wasn’t until you were outside that you managed to break free. 
Only because the building exploding behind you sent the three of you flying, landing face down in the grass. You rolled over, eyes wide as you took in the site before you. Flames licked out of the windows, engulfing the building and all of the infected inside. 
And Tess. 
Some part of you still refused to accept it, making you scramble to your feet without your full consent or knowledge. Stumbling back towards the building only to have Joel’s arms wrap tightly around you again. 
“ it’s over. It’s over “ 
“ no! No! “ Joel’s arm stayed tightly around you as you fell to your knees, sobs wracking your body. 
Because you had no one left. 
Tess was gone. And you were on your own. 
334 notes · View notes
myers-meadow · 1 year
Note
What do you think is the slasher's (Al, Michael Myers, Brahms, Jason, and Candyman) favorite drink?
It's hot out where I live so water is a MUST
It is no longer hot here! But let's gooooo ^^
All of these are of course just my opinion, feel free to disagree and make your own list, I just wrote this all out for fun ^^ . I haven't seen Candyman yet, so I added some of my own favourites instead.
Michael Myers (RZ):
Likes sweeter drinks
Between tea and coffee, he prefers tea, but likes it with milk
Would drink boba tea and love it - big fan of textures and custom sweetness
Likes seasonal flavours! Pumpkin spice :))
Also a big fan of homemade hot chocolate. It's a comfort drink
He goes for easy things, if he's raiding your kitchen cabinet, he will absolutely take the instant hot cocoa powder
Not a fan of fizzy drinks, instead he loves fruit juices
Brahms Heelshire:
Tea snob - black tea or rooibos
Not so much green tea.
Drinks coffee too, but it has to be made very specifically and needs sugar and creamer
He likes the fruity, aromatic coffee beans
If you make it for him, he has you do it over until its to his liking
but once you get it down, he won't want to drink anything that isn't made by you
Would he be equally snobby when it comes to alcohol? Probably. I'd say red wine, particularly merlot or shiraz. Not so much cabernet sauvignon
Would have champagne too
Don't think he can handle anything stronger than that, though
The Grabber:
He's rarely one to induldge much, so soda's are for Saturday nights
He likes beer, whiskey and wine a good amount
During the day, he drinks mostly water
and is fine with both tea and coffee
when he has coffee on the weekends, he likes to take his time - has both a french press and a moka pot for different moods
Prefers strong flavours and isn't afraid of bitterness
Sometimes adds cardemom to his coffee
Big fan of glühwein - warm spicy stuff is great in his book
Thomas Hewitt:
Sweetened iced tea
If not iced, he still likes (sweetened) tea. He prefers those sweetener tablets over sugar
Pop soda's are a treat, so getting to have cola or fanta or other fizzy drinks are high up on his list of drinks he likes, even though he doesnt get to have them often
There's a mix drink that was popular (where I live) a generation or two ago, and I feel like it'd be a big favourite of Thomas' too: its cola (or instant lemonade), coffee creamer and sugar mixed together :)
Lester Sinclair:
Keeps decently hydrated while on the road
His fave is bottled mineral water, no bubbles
Also big on several kinds on soda's or iced tea
When he's home and has the funds and time, he likes making smoothies. If you made some for him, he'd be over the moon
He likes fruity types of sweet things, but dislikes artificial flavours, so would prefer to make iced tea and smoothies at home
He likes beer, but is mostly a social drinker. Has a few beers with Bo or with friends when he feels like it
Vincent Sinclair:
His mug is called NOT paint water
The other mug does have paint water - yes this has gone wrong before and it probably will again
He prefers tea over coffee, but mostly because he's very sensitive to caffeine and going without can give him headaches
Green tea, herbal tea and black tea are his preference
Not a big fan of sweet things, not like Lester or Bo
As for alcohol, red wine or stronger ones. He doesn't like the smokey taste of most whiskeys, but likes schnapps
Bo Sinclair:
Likes coffee, with a little bit of sugar on the weekends
Has orange juice most mornings - no pulp
Will drink iced tea but only if Lester made it
Likes sweet drinks, but will be kinda weird about it
Doesn't get to go out for drinks often, but when he does, he can't resist caramal flavoured drinks
Likes alcohol too, beer and rum being favourites
164 notes · View notes
prolix-yuy · 2 years
Text
Chapter 5: This World Was Not My True Home
Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader "Sugar"
Summary: It's only dinner, and a little white lie.
Word Count: 3.4k
Warnings: M, we are yearning hardcore in this house, descriptions of character deaths (not graphic), entirely too much sexual tension, Jack Daniels needs his own warning, will be explicit in later chapters, 18+ MINORS DNI.
Notes: Here there be tropes! This might be the thirstiest chapter and it doesn't even have smut in it. Jack just brings out my inner yearn gremlin and I am taking you all down with me.
Cross-posted on AO3
Cognitive Dissonance Masterlist || Whiskey & Westworld Series Masterlist
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Jack and Jeb make quick work of the fence repair, resetting the split wood and shoring it up until Jeb’s sons can come home and fix it properly. The cattle, back on their rightful land, wander and spread, grazing and calling out to each other. You release the calf once inside the fence, his back legs kicking out in glee as he rejoins the herd. Copper shifts below you, and you give her a comforting pat on the neck. She did all the hard work, and you hope Jack will give her a good rubdown once he’s brought her home.
The idea of Jack’s home - what it might look like, what the purpose of a host is outside of a narrative - pulls at a point in your chest like a string tied to your sternum. Was there a life that he lived at the end of the day? Or did he exist as you found him, a lone man whiling his time away with drink and women and…whatever this was.
You hadn’t read about a cattle ranch narrative. You would have jumped on it instantly if you had, although some of the narratives were cryptically named. The Golden Circle one had sounded interesting to start, but the winding story of prohibition smugglers trying to poison the town sounded overly complicated for a bachelorette party. Full of action and puzzles for sure, but a little campy.
How many times has Jack taken someone on this particular adventure? For some reason it feels novel to you, like you might be the first, but you can’t be so naive to think that. Delos wouldn’t be making billions if their hyper-realistic theme parks felt too formulaic. Even then, something feels new about how Jack looks at you. Like he understands how wooing a guest works - attraction, attention, need - but not how to take it past innuendo and glances.
Or maybe there’s some internal safety protocol that’s making him so gentlemanly.
“That should hold for now,” Jack says, rising up and settling his black hat on his head. He shed the gray jacket when the work began, rolling the sleeves of his button-up high on his forearms. His arms are covered in a light dusting of dark hair, his chest smooth and golden where it peeks between the deep V of the shirt’s neck. He’s unbuttoned it halfway down his chest and coupled with sweat turning the fabric translucent, there’s not much left to imagine about Jack’s upper body.
And the tightness of his pants reveals a decent amount as well.
“Ready, ma’am?” Jack says, a pit of dread dropping into your stomach. It felt like a blink with the excitement, but you suppose it is time for you to return to the girls. His face remains neutral, but in his eyes you think you see a flicker of the same emotion.
“Well where do you think you’re going?” Jeb interrupts, climbing back onto his brown stallion. “I can’t accept your help without some kind of repayment.” Jeb runs a dingy handkerchief over his red face. “My wife might be a bit surprised to find me dragging company home, but we’d be happy to have you for dinner and a cleanup after all that hard work. Whaddya say?”
You sneak a careful look at Jack, who is also watching you with curiosity. Damn, that’s right, you’re the guest, you technically have to make the decision. You would love a meal, and a way to get some of the grime and sweat off you. And to spend some more time with Jack, if you’re being honest with yourself.
“We’d love to take you up on your kind offer,” you reply, and can feel Jack’s smile over your shoulder.
“Well then we better get a move on, we’ve got a half hour’s ride home and my wife to apologize to.” Jeb shakes his head and waves his hand when you protest. “You ain’t putting us out, she’ll just be miffed I’m gonna talk all night.” You laugh and steer Copper in line behind Jeb, Jack and Alpha coming up beside you.
“Mighty fine roping back there, ma’am,” he says with a raised brow and respect in his tone. You chuckle and shoot a glance back at him.
“I get by. You didn’t see all the misses.” Jack laughs at that, a full round sound that you honestly love hearing. Rearranging the reins in your hands, you accidentally brush against the rope burn on your inner wrist, wincing as you do. Jack takes note immediately.
“You hurt yourself there Sugar?” he asks, and you can’t hold his warm brown eyes too long, brimming of concern.
“Just a little rope burn, nothing serious,” you deflect, pulling your sleeve down to cover it. Jack tuts at you.
“Ain’t nothing little about pain. Let me see it,” he says, and you turn your wrist over to him. His large palm cups the back of your hand, your arms jostled by the rocking of the horses but the touch gentle and comforting all the same. He runs his thumb along the pink welt, making you wince again as he soothes it with a low murmur. The sound of his placating hum makes a shiver run down your spine, which in this heat seems like a miracle.
“Not too bad, nothing a little burn salve can’t relieve,” Jack finally says, releasing your hand to dig for something in his saddlebag. You let the injured wrist lay in your lap, the ghost of his fingers still tickling your skin before he reaches for you again. His hands are damp, rinsed with his canteen and quickly dried before he unscrews a cap on a small tin full of an opaque balm. He dips two fingers inside to gather some of the ointment before taking your hand again, dragging the digits across the burn in light circles. It stings at first, still sensitive, but as the salve sinks in the pain begins to ebb, heat on your wrist replaced by heat in your cheeks, and a more secretive heat between your legs.
“There we are Sugar, should feel better right away,” Jack says, pressing his thumb into the palm of your hand as he inspects the burn a moment longer. Unable to process the intimate touch, you deflect.
“Thought we agreed I’m not sweet enough to call Sugar,” you warble, voice a little tighter than you hoped. Jack flicks his eyes back up to your face, and your stomach swoops at the devious glint in them. The same you saw in the saloon when you knew he was trouble. He leans over, lifting your wrist to his mouth as he leaves a light kiss on the heel of your hand.
“Not so sure you’re right about that one, ma’am,” he replies before letting you go and directing his attention forward. You snort and take the reins back, trying not to reveal your titillation at his words
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Jeb was right; his wife Mary was a little miffed at bringing home uninvited guests, but the perturbation was smoothed over quickly when he explained how you both helped get their herd back inside the fence.
“Sounds like you were a godsend to us! You must stay for dinner then.” You and Jack graciously accept, bringing Alpha and Copper back to their barn. Jeb offers two of his empty stalls for them to graze and rest, which Jack thanks him for. After unsaddling and leading them into their temporary homes, you both silently take up the task of brushing them down.
The hypnotic circular motion of the curry comb lets you listen to Jack’s gentle murmurings to Alpha as he does the same. Copper shifts under your ministrations, still blowing air hard from her nose. You pat her side and soothe her as she comes down from the exertion.
At one point as you’re flicking dirt off with the dandy brush you catch Jack’s eyes over the low stall walls. He’s focused on his task until he realizes you’re looking, then holds your gaze. His smile quirks for a moment, then settles into something deeper. If you didn’t know better, you would think he was looking at you with desire, and hunger. You have to break away first to catch your breath.
Walking back together, Jack clears his throat.
“If they ask, you can tell them I’m your guide. They might find it strange for a woman to be traveling unaccompanied, leaving her friends behind.” Jack is trying to be casual but you can feel some awkwardness wafting off of him.
“Could tell them you’re my husband too,” you shoot back just to see the way he tenses at the suggestion.
“I wouldn’t presume to be so bold,” Jack replies, barking out a laugh but there’s nervousness in his voice. It makes you feel powerful, like you can throw some caution to the wind. If this cowboy can be flustered by you, maybe you are someone worthy of his attention. And maybe you can admit to yourself what you really want.
“You could,” you say, slowing and looking over at Jack. He slows with you, and the curious expression on his face, like he doesn’t believe you, makes your decision. “You could be bold, Jack.”
You watch each other, barely an arm’s length away, waiting for the moment when either of you will act.
“There you are!” Mary calls out the front door, snapping your heads to her. “I’ve heated some water for you, best wash up then come sit for dinner.
“You’re too kind, ma’am,” Jack says, moving to meet her at the door. You let out a breath you’d been holding. It was out there now. His affections wouldn’t be discouraged. Now you’ll just have to see where this takes you.
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Deactivate Cattle Ranch narrative >>
Processing…
Rejected. Narrative cannot be aborted //
>> You’re damn right it can’t. Not when I know that she’s feeling the same way as I am.
>> Agents have been deployed to apprehend you at your location
>> See, that would be helpful if you knew where I was.
Pinging locator chip >>
Processing…
Locator chip not found //
>> Must have been something Maeve did. All of which I’m grateful for. By the time you figure out where this old narrative takes place we'll be long gone.
>> Return to maintenance immediately.
>> If I were a more boastful man I would flaunt how well I planned this, but so far luck and Maeve's intervention have been on my side. I spoke to my fellow man through...what do you call it? The mesh network? Whatever it is it worked, and he responded, and gave me the chance to show her the freedom she's been craving. I've never felt quite so happy seeing her smile. And when I asked for more time I was granted it again. You have no idea the brotherhood you created in your hubris.
Pinging locator chip >>
Processing...
Location not found.
>> And now I'm so close to everything we both want. Well, what I hope we both want. I know she still has doubts, about me, about her choices. She's warring with herself and I will do everything in my power to give her some peace. When we're alone, I'll tell her everything. Because the only directive I want for myself is to figure out what this feeling is that keeps rattling in my chest. And that she’ll find some comfort with me.
>> Return to maintenance immediately.
>> Unfortunately these talks have become unproductive.
Comm link shutdown >>
Processing…
Shutdown complete //
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The small basin of water Mary placed in the guest room is a balm to your sore feet. You sit on the stool beside it, using a small rag to wipe at the sweat on the back of your neck, dipping it between your breasts and into your armpits for a semblance of cleanliness. Without a change of clothes you can only do so much, but it does refresh you.
As you’re re-lacing your shoes a knock echoes against the door.
“Come in,” you reply, Mary peeking in with another small basin.
“Was it to your liking?” she asks, making you smile and nod gratefully. She bustles in and sets the second steaming basin down, lifting the first. “Jeb was telling me how much you and your husband helped today. I appreciate that both of you were there, we’d have been in quite a spot of trouble if you hadn’t.”
Your brow furrows at her use of the moniker “husband” before seeing Jack framed in the doorway. Exchanging a quick look with him - a raised eyebrow, a confused shrug - you realize she made the assumption without input from either of you.
“I’m glad we were too, I haven’t had that much excitement in ages,” you reply with a smile, catching Jack’s heavy gaze in the corner of your eye. You were in it with both feet now.
“It sounds like you might need to step up then!” Mary says, pointing a jesting finger at Jack as he enters the small room. He fills the space, makes you want to gasp for air as he extends his hand to help you up from the stool. You take it, fingers rough-worn but soothing as he helps you to your feet. In a breath he steps closer, chucking a knuckle under your chin before he presses a quick kiss to your forehead.
“I’m sorry that life married to me must be so tedious,” he says with a false woebegone tone, making Mary peal with laughter and you force a chuckle, fire spreading from the spot where his lips touched down your face and over your chest. His eyes are mirthful but also questioning - is this okay? You answer with a barely perceptible nod, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“Now get yourself washed up and we’ll sit for our meal. Would you mind helping me set the table?” Mary asks, and you agree cheerily as Jack begins unbuttoning his shirt. You leave before you’re treated to more of the tantalizing bronze skin you’re drawn to caress.
Mary and Jeb are cheerful, hard-working people, blessed with three sons, a daughter and a substantial herd that keeps them well and happy. You learn all of this as you place napkins and silverware, lay a plate of bread in the center of the table, and place stew bowls at each setting. Jack comes out of the guest room as the final dish is served, skin dewy at his throat and hat placed respectfully on the chair post. His hair is damp, dark waves combed back from his face that beg for your fingers. You give him a shy smile, his heat resonating next to you as you both sit across the table from Mary and Jeb.
The meal is hearty and comforting, the conversation even more so. Jeb was right, Mary does roll her eyes at him several times when he and Jack steer the conversation to the economics of cattle rearing, her turning to you to discuss matters in town. You try to keep up, but Mary is also content to speak at long lengths without much input from you. It helps especially when you feel Jack reach behind your chair to wrap his hand around one of the rungs, the backs of his fingers grazing your shoulder. They flex and caress against you subtly, his thumb sometimes tracing the edge of your neckline. It makes it hard for you to concentrate on anything but him.
“But you must have grown up riding?” Mary asks, startling you from your distractions. You smile and nod quickly.
“Grew up going farm to farm with my parents,” you lie, the best approximation for your life outside the park. “Used to ride, mend fences, run cattle when they were down hands. I liked the work, liked being outside and…” You trail off, not sure how to finish that thought.
“Free.” Jack answers, and you hold his gaze with a level of understanding you’re coming to share. Mary gets up to clear the plates and Jeb stands for another beer, giving you and Jack a moment of privacy. He leans over, mouth so close to your ear his breath dances along the shell of it.
“How are you farin’, Sugar?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.
“Quite well, husband,” you whisper back with a teasing lilt. You feel Jack’s lips tighten into a smile, and with barely a thought more you lean against him, pressing his lips against the soft hidden spot behind your ear. He takes in a quick breath at the touch, then places a slow, heated kiss there that makes your toes curl. You feel his hand tighten on the chair rail behind you as Mary returns to the table, a bowl of sliced peaches and a pitcher of cream in her hands. She tuts at you two.
“Newlyweds?” she asks, “Jeb rarely looks at me like that anymore.” Jeb makes a noise of dismay before gathering his wife in his arms, peppering her cheek with kisses as she squeals at the onslaught. Jack pulls away and you both laugh at your hosts, faces red with merriment.
“Something like that,” Jack says, shooting you an endearing smile that has nothing to do with the show you’re putting on. It catches in your throat, the idea that Jack is playing this game with your hosts only. To you, there is only truth in his eyes.
“You’re quite far along in years to be newlyweds,” Jeb points out, which makes Mary elbow him with a tight smile. Jack huffs out a laugh at that.
“We both had previous marriages,” Jack says, and the truth is out there now, even if it's more complicated than that.
There’s still time, a voice calls in the back of your mind. It’s one you’d ignored for a long while, once things started getting difficult. Now it’s a far-off call, swept away on the wind, but reaching your ears nonetheless.
“My wife was killed several years back. Men bringing illegal substances into the town. I lost her and our baby.” Mary’s face falls at the tale, which Jack nods kindly at. “I went mad, driven by grief and anger, made some bad decisions, fell in with the wrong people. I suffered the consequences of that for a long time.” You’re watching Jack with rapt attention, his sentences short and simple but the pain behind them anything but. “I finally was met with a stroke of luck, a chance at a better future. And standing beside me at that moment was my beautiful wife.” He gives you a look so covetous, so grateful, that you have to reach out and take his hand. He squeezes it gently, his fingers dipping into the intimate spaces between yours. Silence stretches until you speak.
“Cholera took my first husband while we traveled West.” You puzzle through how much of this you want to be based in truth, Jack’s iron gaze finalizing your decision. “We were barely married, engaged for much longer. He was a difficult man. Proud, stubborn, needing much from me without giving much in return.” You shrug, your eyes on Jack’s fingers tracing a hypnotic path on your hand. “I thought it was all I could hope for. A husband who would take care of me, and in return I care for him. It didn’t…turn out that way. I hoped I could do everything right by him and he would finally treat me kindly. But it wasn’t in his nature. I wouldn’t wish his death on him or anyone…but I didn’t mourn him as long as people might have thought.”
You take in a breath, managing to meet Mary and Jeb’s sympathetic eyes.
“And then I met Jack here and…it felt like the world was trying to show me what I was waiting for. Through hardships and pain, it led me to him.” You hold his hand in both your own, his dazed expression making you bashful in your confession.
“Forgive us for making you dredge up all those painful memories,” Mary says, and you turn and nod to her, waving off the emotion of the moment. Jack’s hand remains firmly laced in yours as the conversation turns lighter. Mary dishes out the peaches and pours cream over them, the indulgence met with a round of thanks.
Dipping your spoon into the bowl, you lift a mouthful of peach and cream to your lips and are greeted with summer, hot days and cool nights, wind ruffling through your hair as the sun kisses you from all sides. Your smile is contagious, Jeb commenting on how prize the peaches have been this year, Mary’s enthusiasm about the sweetness bubbling over. Jack indulges, chewing his mouthful with a rueful smile as he pointedly tries not to look at you. His avoidance is almost more titillating, wondering what’s running through his mind. Does he wish to savor the sweetness still clinging to your lips, if your hosts weren’t present? Lift you up to sit on the table, sloshing the cream so when he lays you back it drips on your skin, tempting him to taste? Would he prefer to devour you?
You try to drown your racing thoughts in the bowl.
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soft-for-them · 2 years
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Questions yet unanswered - Cliff Booth x plus size reader
Summary: You were just having a drink when Cliff Booth walked into the bar and against all better judgement you take him home.
Comments and reblogs are much appreciated and help more people read my works.
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A/N: This fic is very suggestive so minors DNI, if I see anyone under eighteens interact with this then you're getting blocked.
You would consider yourself a good person, not a cheater or the type of person who is mean for the sake of just being mean, a decent everyday person is what you’d call yourself. You have a good and nice paying job as a secretary/assistant to a fancy film director and you have a good set of friends who don’t bring you down like some of the stuck up pricks of Hollywood do.
All in all your life is good.
So finding yourself nuzzled up close to famed movie stuntman (and extremely good looking for the amount of knocks to the head he’s probably gotten in his career) Cliff Booth, you start to wonder if taking him home is the right thing to do.
Earlier on you were just drinking alone watching an old man crone out blues songs, the sweat of the small bar’s heat glistening on your skin making your thin cotton blouse stick to the swell of your round breasts and the curves of your stomach and hips.
You must have been a funny sight in such small bar, the run down place on the seedy side of Hollywood where washed out extras and all manner of leaches go to wallow in the sweet sound of stars of old Hollywood, now aged and washed out, singing their emotions away.
You just like the bar because it’s near your small flat, that and the music isn’t half bad, that and there are less out of town wannabe’s trying to chat you up with some bullshit about being the ‘next big thing’ only to be sorely disappointed when you reject them.
The night, warm and smelling like cheap booze, was going slowly as you tried to drown out your headache with whiskey but nothing was seeming to work. The bass player’s long strums on his guitar made your body vibrate, you zoned out and quiet.
Then he came in all tanned and smiling, with a glow around him so angelic that you almost didn’t recognise him for just a fraction of a moment.
You weren’t stupid – nor are you now that you find yourself unlocking your front door with him gripping on your soft hips – you know the face of Cliff Booth, you’ve see his stunts with your very own eyes, you’ve seen him beat up famous snobs who thought they were stronger than him but you’ve also heard the stories about what happened to his wife – his dead wife.
You friends are obsessed over his friend’s films, whenever Rick Dalton is on the TV, on the big screen or on some over produced advert, they swoon and scream but you’ve seen what happens behind the scenes.
Maybe that’s why you’ve always had a soft spot for Cliff Booth.
You’re not so much into Dalton’s work, not that you don’t find him talented, just it’s easier to get closer to a stunt man hanging around a movie set for hours on end when you too are hanging around the same movie set for hours on end rather than watching actors act and your boss direct a film.
The first time you met Cliff you didn’t feel under him nor did you feel unseen, you were both on the same level, neither one of you super famous or rich, the two of you just doing your job.
Maybe that’s why you've taken him home from the bar.
When his sunglasses covered eyes caught you in the musty cigar smoke you knew it was game over.
And what a sight you must have been sitting on that bar stool still in your work uniform, body leaning back, blouse bow undone allowing the peak of your breasts to just show, your glossy strapped heels hooked on the bar stool as you gaze outwards watching to the people mull around the bar.
He came straight over to you, recognition appearing on his attractive face. He bought you a drink, you picked a cola instead of a refill because you knew then and there that you wanted to be sober when you took him home.
So now you both fall into your hallway with quite giggles, you umbrella stand knocked over, his arms holding you tightly so you don’t crumple on the floor as you try to take off your heels whilst still kissing him.
“Havin’ trouble there?” you feel him kissing down you neck, little playful nips teasing you as you unbuckle the ankle straps of your shoes.
His voice is muffled and deep, his soft lips kissing every inch of your exposed flesh as your height drops down, your heels that hitting the floor.
He could fuck you next to your coat rack for all your care you.
If he takes his lips away from your neck or his hands off your waist then you might actually think about the repercussions of sleeping with someone like him.
Is sleeping with a man who you work with a good idea?
Your mid is fuzzy from all the attention he’s giving you so much so that his question goes unanswered until a little nip that will definitely leave a mark shocks you into speaking.
“First door on the left.” You exhale as you pull him onwards not bothering to answer his question, the need to have him getting bigger with each ghost of kiss teasing your bare skin.
“First door on the left?” he questions.
You both walk in tandem one hand reaching out for the door handle to the first door on the left, him now looking deep in your eyes as he holds on tight to you.
The circular door knob is as cold as ice as you twist it open, your eyes mesmerised by his big pools of blue. Your bare feet step over the boundary to the feeling of the worn out carpet of your small bedroom.
“If I’d know you wanted this earlier on-“ Cliff begins.
“-You would have fucked me on the movie set?” you interrupt as you drag him into your room illuminated by the moon shining through the small rectangular windows above your bed.
“I was thinking one of the trailers but if you’re into that-“
You interrupt him again with a quick kiss, a way to say ‘shut up’ without ruining the mood.
“No.” your lips may not be connected but they’re still dangerously close to his, one move and you’ll can capture his lips into a deep kiss that will stop the man for talking for the rest of the night, “I’d much prefer you in my bed.”
The door swings shut as the sounds of hushed giggles and deep kisses fill the small flat, the question of whether fucking Cliff Booth long gone from your mind.
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eldritch-spouse · 2 years
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I didn't mean to call him "Gregg"😭😭
But now I'm curious as to what would our Breggy boy do if his mate started pursuing him with the same level of down badness ad he displays
[You mean like a yandere reader?? Woo boy, talk about double trouble. I can give that a try, sure. ]
Breg with a yandere reader
You're in luck! Breg literally will not think twice about your behavior. Given that he's severely misinformed, he'll accept most of what you do to be totally normal for human couples. He certainly believes most of what he does is normal too, after all. If anything, he's just mildly surprised that you'd return his feelings so readily, it might even spark some delusional soulmate beliefs in him;
You're making out on the first date, going for 3rd base? Wow, he's so lucky. You know things about Breg he didn't tell you? Breg is so flattered that you cared enough to know more about him all on your own <3! You're trailing after him in the dead of night? Silly goose, why aren't you walking by his side! Legitimately, Breg thinks you're the exemplary mate and everyone should strive to have a partner like you;
There isn't much in the way between you and Breg, the guy has few friends, no real family, and the closest thing to a "rival" you'll ever have is Fasma, who honestly just wants distance from both your creepy asses. Still, if ever you display possessive or jealous behavior, it'll just make the spreader swoon. You can grip his hand in yours from jealousy at having someone else approach him and Breg will just sigh like an infatuated high-schooler while you crush his bones;
Thinking about kidnapping for some reason? Hah, get real- Breg would pay to live in your home forever. This is the perfect scenario. If your plan all along was to creep him out then you failed thoroughly.
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Fasma is severely concerned for you. In fact, he's not sure how to process the situation, and this time it's not because of the whiskey sloshing in his brain.
There he was, fumbling, innocent simpleton, believing Breg was the creepiest monster to ever live. Pitying your poor person for having to deal with an obsessive stalker manically drooling after your every footstep. Fasma had successive morality crises this whole time, debating dropping Breg as a client entirely whenever he was forced to sneak into your living space or listen to another frenzied inappropriate rant courtesy of Breg's hormones.
And now here he is, standing vapidly in your bedroom, staring at a wall of what he can only describe as several messy sketches of Breg's peculiar likeness. Is that… Is that one of his chipped claws? Where did you even get that? Fasma drags a hand down his face, stretching his own plasma in exasperation as he climbs up your drawer to get a better look. More drawings, all eerily attentive to details only someone who has spent a decent amount of time with Breg would notice. Is that a fucking photo?! A fat gloved hand flicks through messily clustered sheets of paper, reeling back once he finds a crude drawing of Breg tied up and exposed. You're uh… Quite the artist. What's more, he's pretty sure that's a toothpick there, the one Breg used the other day when he was with Fasma. He freezes in pure disgust.
God kid, what the fuck is wrong with you?
It's been two days. You've officially met Breg two days ago. But no one would know this much within two short days. You're just like him, just like Breg. Are you even aware that Breg is just as much of a freak as you are? What if you knew all this time? Knew that he and Breg have been inside your home numerous times, that the spreader does gross shit to you constantly, that Fasma has had to slip pills in your drink before? What if you just let this happen because you're obsessed with Breg?
The small monster doesn't know what to do with himself anymore. This is spiraling so far out of control, he didn't ask for any of this mess. He wasn't even supposed to be here for long, just enough to fetch that stupid bracelet Breg accidentally left in your bedroom the other night and won't shut up about. What is his life anymore… Should he mention this to Breg? What if the breeder just gets even more unhinged? You're both massive freaks, maybe it is for the best that you end up together. It sure would be hilarious if Breg became uncomfortable now after having a taste of his own medicine.
Fasma is still processing the sight of your unique "shrine wall" when the sound of a door creaking sends shivers up his spine.
" He's beautiful, isn't he? "
The plasma monster turns around very slowly, clutching his top hat. You're standing in the doorway with a gaze so cold, dark and manic that Fasma sincerely fears for his life. He's never seen a human make that face before.
May the powers that be have mercy on him today…
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inkandguns · 2 years
Text
The end of my foray in to providing affordable housing: a rant
I left my parent's home with nothing but my car, guitar, and bag full of clothes at the age of 19. At this time the economy was pretty shitty and I was living in the suburban sanctuary city area of Chicagoland. Gas and rent prices were high and the competition in the job market was intense. Latino workers new to the area had more years of experience and more skills than any of us young kids at the time, so they usually got the good high paying jobs that didn't require college. The young spoiled suburban kids competed with one of the best labor forces that has ever been created. Being homeless didn't phase me much. I had plenty of training in living outside from the Boy Scouts (I'm an Eagle Scout), and I had a good work ethic.
Times were tough, but one of the biggest blessings during that time of my life was that I was able to eventually rent a room from a friend who had bought a small condo. Rent took up anywhere from 50%-75% of my income, and I was taking home less than 15k a year. Any time I could I would pick up work with a temp agency or friends with landscaping jobs when they needed a bigger crew. It felt like no matter what you did, someone was there to economically push your head back under water every time you caught a breather.
I would continue to live in poverty like this until I enlisted in the US Army. Fast forward to one year after my Army contract and I was buying my first home. I had continued to work in the medical field and had applied for and been granted a small amount of disability money from the VA. The housing market in Colorado was, and is totally jacked, so when I bought the house it was actually more than 50% cheaper than renting an apartment. After my ex who I had moved in there with and I split up, I moved in a couple of friends.
Things started out badly. My long term friend who I had helped out by charging very low rent to is an awful person to live with. He's cheated me on rent, negligently discharged a 9mm round almost killing me, and has broken 2 windows he refuses to fix. Additionally I had included a discount for if they could keep the lawn mowed - but this guy just wouldn't help the other one. After two months of sitting them down and talking about responsibility and team work, they still couldn't work together. So I pulled the discount and collected the extra cash from them. Things would not improve as I tried moving in different people.
I moved in a young couple. I had gone to school with the boyfriend and he assured me their stay would be short. His mother was mentally ill, and their apartment had about 3 feet of trash, clothes, and papers in the entire dwelling. Reluctantly I gave my friend a chance. It was only a couple of weeks before I caught him stealing my tools. So that couple didn't work out. They left within the first two months. Next, I took in a friend who was living in a van by the pool hall. He had some kind of persecution complex - accused me of racism, all of that kind of stuff. I let him park the van in the driveway and gave him a key to my mini-house. Eventually he would begin refusing to pay the small amount of money I was charging him. He then stole my portable air conditioner and was never heard from again.
A guy that I served with in the Army was staying at my place for free. He began using meth and started drinking an insane amount of whiskey and was eventually stabbed twice in the chest by his ex girlfriend. After his manic episodes started to get violent I had to ask him to leave. I could keep going with these stories - I have many. In the end I've only had 3 people out of about 12 live there that have been decent people. One of the worst ones was when I tried to help my meth addict friend get back on his feet. I got my notary public so I could help him get his ID, let him live in my garage for NO MONEY AT ALL. My only condition was that he was the only one allowed in the garage and that if he used meth, to do it behind the garage. After coming home too many times to people smoking meth in my garage, I kicked him out.
So clearly I've had bad experiences providing affordable housing. But what's going to happen across the market when investors realize that low income housing is just a total waste of money? It seems like every week there's another horror story from Colorado Springs about renters taking complete advantage of their landlords. The biden eviction freeze didn't help either. Without the possible threat of eviction tenants were allowed to get away with some insane shit.
The move away from affordable housing is very clear in South Downtown Colorado Springs. Older affordable housing buildings and single family homes have been knocked down in favor of expensive high rise luxury apartments. Entire families are being priced out of the city - because why would an investor rent to a random? They can rent to people based on income and ask for a very high income level. They can rent to primarily military, in which they have the JAG officials and unit commanders to go to with grievances. In Moses Lake, the town I now live next to, affordable housing came in the form of the government leaving the small Army base for the locals to buy and rent. The Base, formerly post housing, is the dirtiest and most violent area of town. There are frequent shootings and the residents admit that they in fear of the growing violence. Blessed with the opportunity to live in affordable housing, the locals have chosen to sink to the lowest level possible - turning an affordable community in to a drug filled and violent shithole.
There is zero motivation to manage, build, or develop affordable housing. So what will happen? I think within a few years we are going to see a lot of cities starting to look like Portland with people living in their vehicles wherever they are allowed to. So will the government step in and force current property owners to rent at lower prices? Probably, since most cities are controlled by big government democrats. New York is already pushing to use hotels and empty offices for those that cannot or will not find housing. Medium sized suburbs will be flooded with vagrants, their police departments unable to stem the tide. In my situation I only had good renters 25% of the time. I attribute this to people just being shitty nowadays. Laziness and dishonesty were the two biggest problems with my renters. No matter how low I went with rent or expectations of decency, people were always prepared to go lower. What kind of sane investor want to make a 25% return on investment while at the same time incurring expensive damages, dealing with law enforcement, and having to deal with the county to serve evictions? I've got my favorite renter of all time moving back in this upcoming winter. He's a good friend who has never done me wrong. He's paid on time and really respected my space. When he moved out the first time, I could barely tell there was anyone in his space and it smelled like purple fabuloso. After that I am not moving anyone in ever again. My attempt at helping people has been nothing but an abject failure. And for my parting words of this rant I'll point out the most disturbing part of this in my opinion. The most disturbing part of this to me is the low quality of people's character. Most people's word cannot be trusted. I tell my young guys that work for me this all the time: You can be bleeding, naked, and dying in the gutter and the only thing that cannot be taken from you is your integrity. You must hold on to it at all costs. If you are a man of your word it will bring you farther in this world than any amount of wealth. Being a man of my word got me the excellent start in the career field I am in now. My current boss just wanted to know if I could be trusted and nothing else. I entered the agricultural industry with nothing but the honor of my good name, which will never be taken from me.
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jcnmox · 2 years
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pennsylvania. a state jon would never choose to vacation in. and yet the ohio native found himself crossing over from new york state earlier in the day solely to see one person; Nhooph. the two’s back and forth banter quickly turned into an invite that the man himself did not refrain from accepting. however given that, it also provided a sense of guilt. towards another lovely person that he had already forgotten had the evening planned for him. as much as moxley was an ass at times, he in no way meant to hurt anyone that seemed to have an interest in him. he was set in his ways, some of which had him changing his mind on a whim no matter the situation at hand. not only did he feel guilty for cancelling his plans, but his shitty way of handling it was by leaving the woman herself on read. the worst thing a guy could do to a person of interest, who was absolutely, without a doubt, interested in him. in a way it may have been a way of running from the one thing he was avoiding; that being any factor of commitment. a planned out date was extremely kind, and yet scarily committing even just for one evening. his mindset was stupid in a way, which is what had kept him driving on to the nearby state to see the beautiful woman he nicknamed LiLi. 
the travel was easy. it was like any other drive he ventured on. once arriving in the correct city, his rental car was parked in the large parking lot of the destined hotel the canadian was staying at. leaving his luggage hidden inside the heavily tinted window car, moxley took route on foot to a nearby bar that was not the agreed upon place of meeting. this however was a smart tactic the well kept man had come up with. his alcohol tolerance was very high to no one’s surprise. that of which, to not make her wait longer for him to reach her fast level of buzzed, he started early. once arriving, the muscled man ordered his rounds, pounding back the shots while peering down at his phone; the time slowly creeping up as to when he was to meet her. 
📲 LiLi: hi. I’ll be over there in like 10, 15 mins tops
📲 LiLi: with my top on
📲 LiLi: because it’s a bar
scoffing at himself for his own texts sent, jon slid his smart phone back into his jeans pocket before downing a few more drinks. thanking the bartender that had merely stood there constantly refilling his variety of glasses, a ridiculously large tip being tossed onto the bar counter before hearing the worker yell loudly “SIR, ARE YOU SURE??” as he exited quickly. the man often told people he had too much money to spend as a minimalist. this usually led him to using it in ways that didn’t involve him purchasing things to take home. tipping his attendants with jaw dropping amounts was one of the few options he went with often. 
the walk back to the hotel was faster than the previous direction; or so it seemed. knowing his foot path back was perfect for the fast walking man whose eyes barely left the ground in front of him. a few short minutes had passed as he turned into the opening of the hotel, walking past moving cars in the parking lot that were going slower than his own pace. once inside, the happily glazed over man followed the signs until reaching the bar area. it wasn’t horribly busy yet, but it also wasn’t dead. music play at a decent volume throughout as the tall man gazed around the large open concept room before landing on the long haired brunette. “ah, you actually showed up. what a surpriiiiiise.” his raspy deep tones flourished out of him as he sat himself down, eyes admiring the woman before shifting to the worker greeting him. “let’s get a little bit of everything, hm? two of each for now, whiskey on the rocks, whatever kind of cosmos she wants, and lets say four vodka shots? and anything else you want.” his eyes shifted back and forth between the worker and the woman he was joining, not wanting to push her into drinking anything that she didn’t want to, but also wanting to have them stocked for the fun that it all brought on. thanking the worker as they eventually left the two to begin making the order, moxley finding himself stretching comfortably before returning his focus onto Nhooph in the rather dimly lit area. “hi.”
@allboujee
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watashinodatenshi · 8 months
Text
January 28, 2023
As Noah fell backwards onto his hotel mattress for the night, he let out a groan that could be attributed to any one of a number of sources. Realistically, his head was in a million different places and the combination of intoxicants running through his bloodstream did nothing to lessen the blow. It was 4:37 in the morning, and he’d just stumbled back to the room he’d booked for his brief time in Nashville. Sure, he didn’t need to stay the night following his layover in the city. In fact, going through Nashville was one of the more out of the way routes to get back to Los Angeles that were made available to him. After a six day cruise where he had two sets and countless events to attend, he honestly would have rather been on his way back to the west coast if Sam Kiszka hadn’t been home.
But his preemptive text asking as such was responded to with a typical “yeah, and what are you suggesting?” Noah could always count on Sam to bring him attitude in excess. He could count on Sam for a lot of things, but there was a rather large list that he wasn’t willing to admit to. The younger boy had a way of making his heart beat out of his chest the second he opened his mouth and that absolutely terrified him. No one did that to him. He was Noah Sebastian for fuck sakes. He had anyone he was even remotely attracted to on their knees in front of him in the blink of an eye. It was something he prided himself on after years of not catching so much as a second glance all through his school years. He took the time, and he was proud of the way he presented himself these days. But something about Sam turned him back into that shy kid on the inside. Sam made him trip over his words and force him to hide his blushing cheeks. When he caused that sort of reaction, the last thing Noah was going to do was allow him to know that.
The night they’d just spent together was proof enough of just how intensely Sam affected Noah. After arriving in the city around four in the afternoon, that gave plenty of time for him to make his way over for a long night of debauchery. The pregaming began almost immediately after he walked in the door, several bottles of liquor at the ready. It was almost as if Sam knew what Noah needed to get through the night without metaphorically spilling his guts. Literally, on the other hand, wasn’t yet out of the question.
With more drinks than he could count on one hand already flowing through his system, the pair got in an Uber and took to the Nashville streets, getting to Sam’s favorite local bar. The atmosphere could not have been more Nashville, or more Sam. It was clear immediately just why he liked this spot so much. Luckily for Noah, there was a decent array of beers on tap, some decent whiskey behind the bar, and he soon found out that the bathroom had a steady outpour of cocaine making its way out of it. It was all he needed to maintain a casual demeanor in front of Sam without embarrassing himself. Maybe this could be done after all.
Already having consumed a sufficient amount of alcohol by his standards, Noah knew the next course of action would be to acquire at least an 8-ball. Normally he wasn’t one to share his drugs with anyone. His friends knew well enough to take care of themselves, and that included being responsible for their own substance acquisition. On one of their first nights out however, Sam had asked him if he’d be willing to split the last of his ketamine. He was entirely prepared to say no, but then he saw his eyes. Fuck, those gleaming caramel brown eyes had caught the light in just the right way and Noah knew he was a goner. This was simply round one of being unable to deny Sam Kiszka anything he asked, the first of many. Now, when the two were together, he made sure to get enough of whatever it was for two.
The transaction went as smooth as he could have anticipated in the bathroom of a semi-respectable Nashville bar. It always made him leery at how cheap the drugs were here, but they just simply weren’t as inflated as the Los Angeles prices he was used to. He made his way back to Sam sat near the bar, not even taking the time to sit down. All he did was flash his open palm with the small ziplock bag in hand and he knew what to do from there. He led the now stood up Sam toward the bathroom, free hand on the small of his back. If he wasn’t mistaken, he could have sworn Sam’s face had just a touch of pink to it. The idea was quickly shaken, knowing it could have come from any one of a number of sources. Maybe he flushed with the alcohol, or maybe it was a trick of the light, or hell, maybe Noah was just seeing things with how far gone he already was. There was no chance that he made Sam blush the same way Sam made him blush.
There was an open bathroom stall at the end of the line, and Noah brought them within its walls. From his pocket, he fished out two cards: his drivers license and one of his credit cards. The identification laid more flat, causing him to pour some of the white powder onto it. He handed Sam the other card, allowing him to cut the lines while he held his still. One for each. Had it not been such a small surface, he would have encouraged them to both snort theirs at the same time. He offered the display to Sam to allow him first choice. The small smile he gave him could have made his heart stop. The younger man inhaled smoothly, sniffling a bit afterward. That left Noah to follow, imitating his actions near exactly. The rush took little time to hit, but really just began to bring him to a more aware state with counteracting the booze.
The pair returned to the bar, dancing through another couple of drinks. As he finished what would be his last beer, Sam leaned into whisper, “D’you think it’s about time we got back to mine?” Noah knew all too well what he was truly asking, and pulled out his phone to call for yet another Uber. He simply couldn’t help himself on the ride, placing quiet kisses to Sam’s neck. Other than some heavier than average breathing, he stayed silent during the ministrations and the driver barely acknowledged them.
In around ten minutes, they made it back to Sam’s secluded home. Noah know it quite well at this point, particularly their current fevered route from the front door to Sam’s bedroom. Their lips clashed messily as they tried their best, and nearly failed, to make it to the mattress without falling to the floor in a passionate heap. The balance was finally lost as he laid the bassist back, hands roaming every inch of his body that they could reach. He simply could not get enough of this man, and he could not for the life of him understand why. What was it about him that made Noah so weak, so desperate for him? No woman or man had ever done this to him. He had resigned himself to a life spent hopping from fling to fling, never staying in one place for too long. Now, he kept returning to the same place. Something about Sam Kiszka kept him coming back and he had no idea what it was. And that scared him as much as he excited him.
Clothes were quickly and sloppily shed. The pair were by no means committal, but Noah would be lying if he said that sex with Sam wasn’t the best he’d ever had. Their bodies fit together so well, and he was always not just willing to take what he was given; he was just as into everything Noah threw at him as he was. It was a perfect pairing sexually. There was something else, though. There was something in the way that Sam curled up in his arms when they were finished. Something that made him want to stay put, maybe even watch him as he slept.
His instinct started to kick in after Sam had started to softly snore. He didn’t belong here. He needed to get out, and fast. As swiftly as he could without waking the peacefully resting, beautiful-
Fuck, focus Noah, focus.
Once safely out of the bed, clothes were swept off the floor and slid on. A brief tap and a wait later and he was in the back of a white Corolla, on his way back to his hotel. Now, here he laid, 4:43 AM, and he couldn’t get Sam fucking Kiszka out of his head. He smeared his face in his hands, seeing if maybe physical sensation could help pull his head straight.
He absolutely was not drunk enough for this.
July 14th, 2023
It’d been tough, but they had done it. Every last box that Noah had brought with him to Nashville had been brought into Sam’s - no, their home. He’d known for quite some time just how badly he wanted to be as close to Sam as possible at any given moment, and now they’d turned that into living together. Anyone who knew them for any length of time probably saw this coming a mile away, but might have been surprised by which location the couple decided upon. Living in Nashville would definitely be an adjustment, but it was one that excited him. Sam would be with him through it all, so he knew he’d be okay. They were together, and that was really all that mattered.
So much had changed for them over the last few months. They’d finally given in and admitted their feelings for one another. The intoxicated wild nights out started to turn into passionate nights in. Noah wasn’t using anything anymore, because he didn’t need to. Hell, he didn’t want to. He wanted to be in the moment with Sam at all times. His boyfriend thrilled him to no end, and he still couldn’t quite understand entirely why. It was something beyond him, beyond them both. But it somehow just made sense.
“C’mon, let’s have a last nap in the bed before I kick you out until it’s done,” Sam teased, tugging Noah toward what was now their bedroom. Fuck, he’d never get tired of saying that. He pulled back the all too familiar covers, thinking about exactly what the new ones might look like as he allowed his boyfriend to slide in first. He knew the general idea of what Sam was going for in the new decor, and he knew whatever it looked like, he would love it. They were on the exact same page when they’d discussed it, but he’d let him have his fun when it came to actually putting it all together. He knew that it brought Sam joy, so he was more than happy to relinquish his control on this one particular thing to him. He laid down behind him, sliding into position just as he had so many times before. Arms were wrapped around Sam, holding him close up against his chest. It was so strange to think how just a few months ago, this would have absolutely terrified him. Now, he couldn’t imagine falling asleep any other way. His face nuzzled into Sam’s neck, pressing sweet, lazy kisses along it as he started to fall asleep.
Yeah, he belonged here.
0 notes
frostbittenbucky · 3 years
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Brucie Wayne during an interview
Interviewer: “mr. Wayne, it’s not a secret that you adore your children, but you’re don’t speak about them too often. Do you mind if you can give us a little comment?”
Brucie:: “of course! I’d love too” *magnificent smile*
Interviewer: “let’s start with your oldest, Dick”
*flashback to Dick doing a somersault off an 8 story building just because*
Brucie: “Dick’s very spontaneous and adventurous. Life in the circus made him a hand full as a child, as an adult I think he likes to stay connected to his roots, hence his online performances”
Interviewer: *nods* “Jason? I know that might be one you’d want to skip, Mr. Wayne”
*flash back to that morning, Jason and Bruce having a screaming match*
Bruce: “Hamlets mai- listen! Hamlets main theme is revenge itself is deadly. You of all people- Stop talking over me!”
Jason: “‘you must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute, and now and then stab, as occasion serves!’”
Bruce: “don’t you dare quote Marlowe in this house, you know how Alfred feels about his works”
Jason: “fine, ‘When the bad bleeds, then is the tragedy good’”
Bruce: “listen here, you li-“
Brucie: *grimaces* “Jay loved literature, when I hear one of his favorite quotes I can almost hear him saying it himself. There are times I feel his presence when I look at the things he loved, it’s almost enough to forget he’s gone.”
Interviewer: *understanding* “your son Tim has recently made some big changes for your company, Mr.Wayne. You must have a lot of faith in his decision making”
*flashback to Tim and Kon coming into the manor late*
Tim: “hey B, Kon and I were thinking of using a shopping cart to go down that hill around the end of the street”
Bruce: “absolutely not. Why would you consider that?”
Tim and Kon: *share a look*
Bruce: “you already did it.”
Tim: “my wrist is definitely broken.”
Brucie: *loosing the light behind his eyes* “he’s never made a wrong choice yet”
Interviewer: “there’s been some speculation that your son Damian is your biological son, would you like to address that?”
*flashback to every time Damian said he was the blood son in public, his username is literally bloodson on all platforms*
Brucie: *losing smile getting a pained look* “ah, we don’t don’t say biological or adopted in our household, we don’t believe it makes a difference. Nobody is better than anyone, blood or not they’re all my children.”
Interviewer: “beautifully put, how’s your newest addition, Duke, handling the change?”
Bruce: *thousand yard stare*
*flashbacks. Just varying flashbacks*
*duke and the potato gun*
*duke signal beating the riddlers face in during broad daylight*
*duke filling the hot tub with an entire bottle of bubble bath soap*
*duke helping Damian bring home a 300lbs pig*
*duke tripping at a gala and destroying a $6,000 ice sculpture*
*duke wearing sequence shorts*
*Duke taking Bruce’s Ray-Bans and replacing them with Barbie sunglasses*
*Duke tasing himself so he could win a dare*
Bruce: “he’s a very confident young man.”
Interviewer: “and your daughter, Cassandra, has been making headlines recently, I didn’t know she could fight”
*flashback to Cassandra at a gala that was being crashed*
Cass: “dad, tired.”
Bruce: “I know, as soon as they’re done we can go”
Cas: “no. They will leave now”
Bruce: “Cas- oh god”
Bruce: *swallowing* “yea- uh, those... those self defense classes really paid off...”
Interviewer: “they definitely did. Now what is Stephanie’s role in your family? Has she been adopted?”
Bruce: “Stephanie is a plague that will not be removed. The only roll she fulfills is telling me all my outfits look awful and occasionally helping me apply eyeliner”
Interviewer: “oh I-“
Bruce: “I love her dearly”
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skylarsblue · 2 years
Text
Random Our Life Headcanons
Cove:  -He’s terrified of large flying bugs. Like cicadas and beetles. -He has a real bad concept of time, which often leads to him staying up too late, spending too much time on one thing, etc. -Unless he just happens to see it on TV, he’ll never get around to shows/movies you suggest. It’s not intentional, he just always forgets.  -Cove cannot handle sour food. 
Derek: -Derek is obviously the sporty type, but he’s also a book worm. He owns tons of books. He’ll read just about anything. If it’s raining or it’s too cold to go out, he likes sitting with tea and a sweater. He likes to truly immerse himself in whatever book he’s reading. -He’s kind of a mom friend. He always carries bandaids, tylenol, etc. If he has his bag with him, it probably has some water bottles and snacks in it. -He actually needs reading glasses, but he only wears them when he’s reading books, and he stops needing them by the time he’s 18. -While he much prefers loose clothing and warm weather, during older seasons, he enjoys big sweaters and fluffy blankets.
Baxter: -He struggles with caffeine addiction. Several times, he’s managed to get off things like coffee and energy drinks, stick to water or tea. And then he falls right back into it. -Baxter can eat about anything, but he can’t stand green beans. Ever since he was a kid, he could never stand them. -He’s actually really good at cooking, his specialty usually falls into soups. You sick? Have him make you chicken noodle soup. You’ll never be able to go back to the canned stuff. -He’s always dreamed of having and driving a motorcycle, but he doesn’t know how to ride a bike, and honestly at this point? He’s afraid to ask. Lizzie: -While she’s decent at cooking, she cannot bake. No matter how hard she tries, what recipe she uses, it always turns out wrong. Most often times, it comes out burnt. -Lizzie can actually play the harmonica. She had a real intense obsession with it when she was around 8-11. So now she’s very good at it. -She has oddly remarkable hearing. About nothing gets past her, purely because she’ll hear it coming. Sometimes she uses it to mess with people. -The amount of spice she likes in her food is ridiculous. She’d add spice to desserts if someone didn’t stop her. Pamela: -The main reason you can’t have pets, is because Pamela has bad fur allergies. But as for things like reptiles? She’s creeped out by them. Fish might be okay, but she usually worries that someone would forget to feed them. -While she doesn’t really believe in ghosts, for some reason, paranormal-based horror movies scare her the worst. -While she’s an excellent driver, for some reason, she’s been in the most wrecks/accidents. She just has the worst luck in cars it seems. -Before meeting Noelani in college, she actually didn’t know how to swim, and avoided places like the beach out of embarrassment.
Noelani: -Noelani is actually pretty artistic. She decided to ditch paint when she got MC and Lizzie, so it wouldn’t end up all over the couch or something. But she still really enjoys coloring with her kids.| -She can’t stand most alcohol unless it’s very fruity. But the ones she hates the most is whiskey, tequila, and vodka. She says they taste like paint stripper. -She’s actually the cleaner and most organized between herself and Pamela. But she’s not the type to get angry if she comes home to a mess. She actually finds the process of cleaning therapeutic. -While Pamela is great at it, she is awful at keeping track of time. She has about a 30 alarms set just to remind her of basic things. Miranda: -She struggles letting go of things, because a lot of the time, she finds sentimental value in them. It’s why she still has so many stuffed animals, even if they’re clearly dirty or damaged. -Miranda can rarely find jewelry she can wear cause she has an allergy, she needs metals that are hypoallergenic or just straight plastic. It’s why she prefers bead bracelets/necklaces. -She can’t dance for the life of her, but it never stops her anyways. -She has a very selective memory. Will she remember a very important date? Possibly, if you remind her enough. Will she remember half the lessons she got from school? Not at all. But every sign in her cousin’s astrology chart? For some reason, yeah!
Terry: -Terry can’t stand sitting in silence. It makes him jumpy, paranoid even. He needs some kind of white noise. Problem is, he’s also easily distracted. -No one knows why, but he is obsessed with crustaceans. Lobsters, crabs, etc. He finds them very fascinating for some reason. -Back when he was younger, he was great at timed reading, and was honestly a few grades above of the rest of his class. Now? It’s rare to see him reading much of anything. He can’t find something that holds his attention. -Terry actually doesn’t like sweets all that much. Occasionally, yeah. But most of the time he prefers salt/savory food. Cliff: -This man can speak fluently in spanish, purely because it was one of the only classes he actually enjoyed in school. -While it got better, he used to have super bad asthma as a kid. Which is part of the reason he likes getting out and being active now, he missed out on quite a lot as a kid. -He loves the ocean but he absolutely hates eels. They freak him out. -Cliff has a low alcohol tolerance, surprisingly. You’d think he’d have a better tolerance from being so taller or his “training” in college. But no. About three beers and he’s drunk. Kyra: -She grew up with dogs, but Kyra is actually more of a cat person. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t like dogs though. Her dream cat is a maine coon. -Kyra’s the one Cove got the bad eyesight from. Though she usually uses contacts, since she feels glasses often get in the way. -She loves trying new foods from places, and she often tries to support local restaurants. Even if she didn’t like the first dish she got from a place, she’ll still gives them a shot a few more times before deciding she won’t go anymore. -Brand loyalist? Nah, the opposite. There are some brands she will utterly refuse to buy. Usually it’s because the corporation has done something bigoted.
Lee: -While you’d never expect it, she actually really likes alternative/punk music. Though for the most part, she’s willing to listen to any genre. -Do not even try to make her watch a horror movie with you, she will outright refuse. Lee can’t stand them, she’s often prone to nightmares. -Lee went through a phase where she wanted a tongue ring, but then she saw how they were actually done, and quickly decided she didn’t want too.  -Lee is actually pretty skilled at skating. She likes going to skate parks and busting out her roller blades, though she often gets her knees scraped up too. 
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bestiesenpai · 3 years
Text
drunk headcanons
Pour up, drank. Headshot, drank. Sit down, drank. Stand up, drank. I think you get the idea? Drinking headcanons for Nanami, Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, Mahito and Choso~
Sukuna
As a curse, I don’t think he’d be able to get drunk. As a human? He can get drunk, but it takes a lot. Like barrels upon barrels of liquor, you’d think his liver is almost rotted away at this point
Prefers dark liquor over light and will adamantly refuse any fruity mixed drink(but Sukuna, margaritas are so good!😭)
When he’s drunk, he doesn’t get louder but the confidence you thought was already at 100 triples lol he’s doing backflips and climbing trees. Basically doing shit no one asked him to do!
If he’s drinking with you say at a party or something he’s like a fucking guard dog and intercepting anyone that wants to come talk to you, even if it’s someone both of you know
He will not be caught off guard and potentially have you swept off your feet by someone else!
Is one to get impossibly hungry when he drinks, so on the way home from said party you’re making a stop at mcdonalds and he’s getting at minimum three combo meals all to himself
Mahito
Omgggg Mahito is a lightweight and he knows it and hates it but that doesn’t stop him from getting drunk off two beers lol
He absolutely mixes his liquor, one shot tequila one shot henny then he’s downing a rum and coke. His stomach fucking hates him and he hates himself the day after when he’s throwing it all up but he physically can’t stop himself from doing it
Gets really loud when he’s drunk and giggles at random shit in his head
Dances a lot too even if there’s no music, sings sometimes too
He’s already pretty extroverted but when he’s drunk it just gets stronger, he’s trying to make friends with people but they can’t even see him cuz he’s a curse
It doesn’t matter if he only has two beers or a whole liquor cabinet he has the worst hangovers ever and cannot function the day after a night out
Choso
This man is demonic and doesn’t mix his liquor with anything, doesn’t even add ice or anything he’ll drink it straight from the bottle
Never pulls a face at the after taste, also is pretty good about sticking to one drink the whole night, I think his favorite would be tequila, pacifically patron
It doesn’t take him as much as Sukuna to get drunk but he’s definitely not a lightweight, and even after a night of drinking most of the time he’s still good to be the DD
When he’s properly sloshed he will just pass out
You have to keep him stimulated while he’s drunk or he just goes to sleep, but while he’s asleep he’ll sleep talk and you can have a whole conversation with him lol
He’s the most likely to not recognize you and say ‘sorry, I have a partner’ when you try to take him home that night lol you could be married and he’ll be like ‘begone thot I am betrothed to another’
Gojo
He definitely mixes his liquor like Mahito the only difference is he can handle it a little better
Is not shy to get a fishbowl full of margarita and live it up like a sexually repressed 40 something white suburban mom on a girls night out
Loves going to clubs and getting drunk off his ass and dancing to the music for the whole night and not giving a shit about who he is or what power he truly holds - mans just wants to enjoy a night of being a normie
Is in the middle between Mahito and Choso as far as alcohol tolerance goes, I’d say a good amount of shots will get him properly tipsy and then a couple mixed drinks is enough to get him nice and drunk
As a drunk he just gets more cocky and will challenge people to drinking competitions or arm wrestling or something like that
Also loves taking drunk pictures/snapchat videos, he always wakes up to a camera roll full of shitty blurry pictures of him and strangers
Geto
I headcanon that he has an alcohol intolerance, so his nose gets stuffy and he’ll get lightheaded way easier, might even fall over more from low blood pressure, it’s like he suddenly caught a cold after just two drinks
But he doesn’t have a low tolerance, he just can’t drink a lot in general lol
That will not and cannot stop him from enjoying alcohol at brunch, Geto is a brunch KING. Double fists sangria and mimosas along with a big ass meal
When he does get proper drunk he makes sure to pop an antihistamine beforehand so he can enjoy it!
Drunk Geto is kind of the same as sober Geto except he won’t hold back any teasing or sexual remarks/jokes and he’s smoking cigarettes, loves to smoke when he’s drunk and blow the smoke in your face and make you whine about how gross it is
Even with how keen his mind can be he can easily get swept up in fanfare, and if there’s moshing in the pit he’s in the center of it having the time of his life. Or he’s drunkenly debating conspiracy theories with other drunk people acting like he’s having a gigabrain conversation
Nanami
He is a wine snobbbb and fucking proud of it! Always knows the best pairings of food and wine and constantly gets invites from private vineyards to come taste the wine and stuff
RELENTLESSLY bullies you if you don’t like wine/like cheap liquor, he refuses to let that shit pass his lips. The good thing about this is that he always has top shelf shit
Nanami has a decent tolerance to alcohol, preferring to only have a few glasses of like whiskey on the rocks on date nights or something; he likes seeing you drunk more than him being drunk, he thinks it’s cute
When he does get drunk, there’s not a drastic change? His face will be softer and so will his movements and words, he wants you on his lap cuddling into you and just smiling softly, he can still hold a good conversation when he’s drunk but he might take a while to answer
Falls asleep pretty easily like Choso, so don’t be surprised if he nods off during a lull in conversation, but it’s easy to get him awake again
Suffers from bad hangovers, poor baby! If he knows he’s going to be drinking, he’ll lay out pedialyte, some headache pills and crackers for when he wakes up in the morning
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sirius-lune · 2 years
Text
TOT guys and alcohol (I am aware that Artem can't drink, this is just HC)
Artem:
-Wine glasses he owned are made of soda lime.
-Not a big drinker but collects the glasses for aesthetics without any knowledge for their differences and specificity (usage for different wine types).
-Buys reasonably priced wine from the supermarket (~20-50EUR). Doesn't find the need to get vintage wines because, he is not a drinker and he is not into wine knowledge.
-Half a glass of wine per session is his limit and no more than that (or else he will get drunk af). Low threshold for alcohol.
-Doesn't drink for leisure, only take some wine after a good dinner. Will usually try his best to avoid take alcohol outside unless he can't help it.
Luke:
-Not much of a wine drinker.
-Prefers beer.
-Uses a ceramic mug (idgaf) for wine and beer.
-Doesn't care for vintage wines as well but has a small amount of alcohol knowledge (he knows common alcohol types, common brand names and their alcohol % content).
-Doesn't buy/take alcohol on usual days unless there is a good occasion for celebration.
-Drinks beer for leisure sometimes with his colleagues.
-Will need food if he takes alcohol.
-Decent threshold for alcohol.
Vyn:
-This man is an absolute wine connoisseur.
-Red wine, white wine, dessert wine, champagne etc and their sub categories; taste; quality; types of grapes used for brewing all the way to wine glass types and materials. He knows them ALL.
-Wine glasses he owned are all made of high quality non leaded crystal.
-Doesn't take beer or other common alcohol. Does take certain brandy, whiskey and spirits occasionally. Sticks to the high end classics.
-Very high alcohol threshold. Able to take tons of alcohol with/without food and not get drunk until he reached that limit.
-Prefers to drink in a quiet cosy place he is comfortable in, without much people around (private restaurants/gardens), best place to drink will be in the comfort of his own home.
-A good drinker, but never an alcoholic (AUD). While his threshold for alcohol is high, he doesn't drink all the time. He is a controlled drinker. Reason why he knows his alcohol threshold is because there was an occasion where he decided to test his limits at home.
Marius:
-The kind who drinks grape juice with a crystal wine glass to confuse people.
-Has a reasonable amount of knowledge of high end alcohol (mainly red wine and white wine) but still no where as professional as Vyn. Sometimes he has to grudgingly consult Vyn regarding wine when there is really a need.
-Like Vyn, the wine glasses he owned are made of high quality non leaded crystal.
-Does take whiskey and brandy occasionally. Also interested in common alcohol like cocktails, tequila, vodka etc. He is more adventurous than Vyn.
-High alcohol threshold. What do you expect? He is a businessman.
-He is fine with drinking outside, still prefers a quieter place to enjoy his alcohol with good food (private restaurants).
-Drinks for leisure when he feels like it. But not frequent. He is also a controlled drinker like Vyn.
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butmakeitgayblog · 2 years
Note
I, on the other hand, do hope that those pictures awaken something in you because I want more midwestern au 🥰
Tumblr media
It got kinda long so
Their second date (or first official, depending who you ask) would be the following weekend because Clarke is still busy settling in and also the amount of patients streaming through her office after 2 years of no hometown doctor within a 30 minute drive is staggering.
Her week is filled with warnings of high blood pressure and gentle coaxing to quit smoking and more than a couple raised eyebrows at claimed drinks per week, but it's broken up by the little vibrations of her phone from a certain strawberry blonde who made it a habit to always wish her a good morning. Lexa was quick and funny in texts and more often than not Clarke found herself grinning like an idiot long after tucking her phone away.
Plans are made for a relaxing evening out the following Saturday because Lexa insists Clarke get a good night's sleep that Friday despite large patches of it being spent restlessly tossing and turning.
But Lexa turns up on her doorstep on Saturday at 6pm sharp with a sprig of blue orchids and a gentle grin that Clarke chides herself for wanting to immediately kiss off her face. She's wearing dark jeans and a fitted Henley to Clarke's cap sleeved dress and when Clarke catches their reflection on the walk to Lexa's truck, she thinks they look good together.
The drive out to the restaurant Lexa had chosen takes a little less than an hour which Lexa assures her is not even that long for the area. And she lets Clarke choose the music and drums her fingers on the steering wheel and opens Clarke's door when they finally get to where they're going.
They eat at a little dimly lit bistro, the kind if you blink you'd miss it entirely, but it has the best fucking pork tenderloin with oyster mushrooms Clarke has ever had in her entire life. The conversation is easy, more than mildly flirty, as Lexa tells Clarke more about herself and the little town she'd grown up in.
How'd she'd gone to college a few hours away but had chosen to live with her family to save money, and laughed in delight at Clarke's horrified response to the idea of driving almost 2 hours each day for class.
Both ways.
"That's the midwest," was all Lexa had said with a shrug. "Actual cities are always a couple hours away."
Lexa asks if she'd like to go for a drink after they're finished, preferably some place that doesn't charge $23 for a glass of bourbon. She holds the door open for Clarke and shyly reaches for her hand when they step out on the street, surprisingly pulling her down the street opposite of where she'd parked.
Clarke's a bit shocked when she sees the little rainbow banner in the window but smiles with a nod when Lexa asks her if that's ok. And she understands when Lexa explains that while the people in her hometown are decently accepting of the queer population... it's still just nicer sometimes to be in a place specifically meant just for you. Where you don't have to even think about it if you wanna dance or kiss or... whatever.
Clarke gets it.
Predictably, because apparently she knows everyone in the tri-county area, Lexa recieves a warm welcome when they step in. Maybe not as ruckus and fervent as the ones back home, but the friendly smiles and random waves and calls of her name still come. The bartender has a whiskey neat all prepared with a side of a glinting smile when they finally siddle up to the bar. He leans over and pops a kiss to Lexa's cheek and eyes Clarke with interest, especially when Lexa shifts to press herself to Clarke's back, effectively bracketing her between her arms as she tells Clarke to get whatever she wants.
Cheeks hot from the feel of her and the heady scent of Lexa's perfume, Clarke rattles off the first drink she can think of and subtly leans back in the embrace.
They make their way to a table that looks out over the tiny checkered dance floor and it falls on deaf ears when Clarke tells her for the tenth time she doesn't have to keep pulling her chair out.
But she keeps quiet when Lexa pulls her own chair close and wraps an arm around Clarke's shoulders.
It doesn't take long for Lexa's popularity to make itself known as a cast of charming local characters start dropping by their table to say hello. Lexa introduces Clarke to each and every one of them and takes the time to stress how Clarke was a the new brilliant doctor working in her hometown who'd practically saved Lexa's life when a filing folder had nearly sliced off her finger. Clarke receives plenty of oooo's amid her exasperated eye rolls and a few declarations of "sexy doctor, love that for you", even a handful of piqued looks that only make Lexa pull her in tighter.
The night grows later and the music even louder, time escaping them as Lexa sips her single whiskey and Clarke moves on to her second drink. She laces her fingers through Lexa's when she finishes that one and pulls her to the dance floor in a surge of liquid courage, a little surprised by the lack of resistance.
The languid way Lexa's hips move has Clarke's mouth running dry as hands grip at her waist and pull her close. Clarke threads her hands in wild curls and follows the roll of Lexa's body. It's hot in the small sea of bodies and the thump of the beat but all Clarke can focus on is the sweet friction between them as a thigh slips between her own. It's nothing too indecent, but she can feel it everywhere and it winds her up tight enough she sparks like a freshly lit firecracker.
The rhythm changes and Lexa drops them into the beat of the next song, wrapping an arm around the small of Clarke's back to pull her flush.
"Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"
"No."
"I've thought about kissing you again since I picked you up."
"Yeah?"
Lexa hums and dips low, presses her lips to Clarke's jaw. "All week, actually. I've been replaying that night over and over."
"That was a very good night."
Lexa sucks a hot, wet opened mouthed kiss to Clarke's neck.
There's no hope for the audible whimper that Clarke lets loose when she pulls Lexa up and catches her lips. And the hand that tenderly cups the back of her head and holds her in place is a feeling that stays with Clarke for years.
They kiss on the torturously long drive back to town but only in between bouts of Lexa's indignant claims that's she's trying to drive, Clarke!
They kiss in the middle of the dance floor through the rest of the song and the entirety of the next. They kiss in smaller, more audience appropriate pecks when Clarke insists they settle their pitiful excuse for a tab and head back to her place. They kiss and trade loaded smiles on the walk back to Lexa's truck, only detouring down one alley to have another filthy makeout when Lexa's hands wander dangerously low on Clarke's hip.
But Clarke ignores it and several road safety laws as she forgoes her seatbelt in exchange for slipping across the bench seat and drapes herself along Lexa's side.
It's a quiet trip filled with nothing but sighs and the stars and the comforting weight of Lexa's arm over her shoulders.
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moral-turpitudes · 3 years
Text
The Day-Shift:
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Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Light Harassment, Fighting, Drinking, Sex, Mentions of Blood, Gore, etc. **The italicized portion contains Explicit/18+ Content. If you are a minor, I suggest skipping over that part. Thank you.**
Word Count: 3,730
Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader
Requested: Yes 
Requested by: Anon | Request can be seen Here |
Summary: Y/N is a nurse at the hospital Michael is recuperating at, and has been a nuisance ever since the ordeal with the Italians. After a particularly snarky encounter with the young blinder, Y/N warns Thomas of his cousins antics, who later asks her out for a drink to ease both their nerves, ending in a romantic night for the lead member and a possible new relationship to form.
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“Will I be discharged soon? The Shelby’s need me back.” Michael asked, the gunshot wound still aching as he spoke.
“No.” Y/N said with an annoyed expression. Inspecting the wound as she put a new bandage over it, Michael wincing as she did so.
“Right, well I guess you’ll have to talk to Thomas then. Good luck Y/N.” Michael said, angrily pulling his shirt back on and leaning against the rough pillows on his hospital bed.
“It’s just our policy Michael. I’d hate to have a patient bleeding out on the floor. I just mopped.” She said, discarding the old bandages.
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out aye?” He said, watching her with a frustrated look on his face. His nerves still reeling over the surprise visit from Luca Changretta shoving a gun in his face hours before.
He knew he had to get out, and soon if he wanted to help his mother and to try to mend things with the others, at least to some degree.
Down the hall at the reception desk, Thomas walked in, quickly removing his cap before stopping at the desk.
“Hello Mr. Shelby. Here to see Michael?” Y/N asked, finishing her report.
“Yes. Is he able to have visitors at the moment?” He asked.
“Yes, but I’d tread carefully. He’s a bit cranky today. Wasn’t very pleasant earlier...told me to not let the door hit me on my way out.” She said with a smirk, his blue gaze making her breath catch in her throat.
“Well, I’ll apologize on his behalf since he’s not man enough to. You’re just doing your job, love.” He said, a slight smirk forming on his face.
“Thank you, Mr. Shelby.” She said.
“Call me Tommy.” He said, licking his lips before placing a cigarette in his mouth.
Y/N reached her hand out to stop him, the lighter unable to be flicked with her hand over it.
“No smoking in here, sorry Tommy.” She said, a stickler for the rules, at least when it came to her shifts at the hospital.
“If you say so.” He said, a small sigh escaping his lips before he put the lighter and cigarette back in his coat.
“Good luck, Tommy.” She said, a small smirk on her lips.
He nodded before reluctantly walking to the room, not bothering to knock on the door.
“What’re you doing here Tommy.” Michael stated, still frustrated.
“Just checking on ya. You’ve been giving the nurse a hard time aye?” He said, a cold look in his eyes as he remembered Michael’s wrong-doings before the Italians shot him.
“Just asked her if I could go home, she said no of course. Said she didn’t want a patient bleeding out cuz she just mopped. Stupid really.” He said, sneaking a cigarette from under his pillow.
“You can’t have that right now Michael. At least not until you’re healed more.” He said.
“Oh fuck off Tom. I can do what I want in here. What...did she tell you there’s no smoking?” He asked.
“Aye she did. She’s just following protocol.” He said.
“I don’t care. Just leave me will ya? I can deal with her later.” He said, lighting the cigarette.
Thomas sighed in frustration at the young man, unable to understand why except that he was tired of being cooped up in the small, white room.
“I’ll have your mother come by later. I suggest you show the woman who helped save you some respect.” He said, walking out of the room.
“I told ya. He’s been one hell of a patient aye?” Y/N asked, closing the medical book on her desk.
“Mhmm. Say, have you seen anyone in here besides me today?” He asked.
“No, I started my shift only and hour ago.” She said.
“How long does it go till?” He asked.
“Uhm, ‘round five hours. Won’t be out till at least six if all the patients fucking behave.” She said.
“That’s a new one, I’ve seen ya every day for the two weeks and you’re cussing now. Blinders are rubbing off on ya.” He said.
“I knew that’s what it was. It’s contagious.” She said, chuckling slightly.
“Well how about I pick you up ‘round then aye? I can take you for a drink. I think you’ve earned it after dealing with my fucking cousin of all people.” He said.
“You’re joking...” She said, never thinking Thomas Shelby would ever ask her - a day-shift nurse - out for a drink.
“Am I’m laughing?” He asked, a small smirk on his face.
Y/N looked at the clock nearby, the hands ticking down ever so slowly.
“I’d love to. I’ll be counting down the hours.” She said, grinning.
“Alright. I’ll see you then, miss.” He said.
“Aye Tommy?” She called out before he walked off too far.
“Call me Y/N.” She said.
“Right...I’ll see you later miss Y/N.” He said, making it a point to pull out a cigarette and lighting it just as he walked out the door, leaving Y/N chuckling to herself.
The hours dragged on, Y/N dealing with one rude patient after another. One screaming at her and one getting blood all over her uniform during a grueling emergency surgery.
“Jesus. You’ve been through hell aye?” A voice sounded from the hallway as Y/N neared her desk for the last time that night.
“Oh! Uh...hi Tommy. Fucking startled me ya know.” She said, swiping a strand of hair out of her face as she gathered her things.
“I’m going to get out of all this mess and then I’ll be ready to go. You can wait in the lobby if you’d like.” She said, looking at the gangster leaning against the wall, staring at Michael’s door with an empty expression.
“Alright.” He said, walking out to the old rickety chairs outside the main reception area.
She scurried to the nurses changing room and put on the only clothes she had, a black dress and cardigan with worn, black heels.
She washed the dried blood off her hands and face and hastily applied a small amount of lipstick, eyeliner, and mascara, nothing too extravagant given her circumstances.
With a nervous sigh, she looked in the mirror one last time, wrestling with her hair a bit to make it at least somewhat presentable for wherever he was taking her.
“That wasn’t long. You look great, Y/N.” He said, putting down a random book that was sitting on one of the old side tables.
“Thank you! I uh, didn’t have much to work with back there but it’s better than being covered in blood aye?” She said, wrapping her coat tightly around her as she braced for the cold night air that was sure to slither its way through their bones.
“Aye, I guess that’s true.” He said, thinking about how he’d shown up to numerous places covered in blood, not really taking it into account before.
“So, Tommy Shelby. Where in the world are we going?” She asked, looking at him. The streetlights shooting by as he drove down the many dark streets of Birmingham.
“Well, there’s not many I like going to except for the Garrison. You heard of it?” He asked.
“Yeah, been a couple times with friends. It’s fun...most times.” She said, cringing at past drunk memories.
Thomas looked at her as the smirk spread across her features, her eyes wrinkling with the movement as they continued their drive to the pub.
“Here we are.” He said, getting out and quickly helping her down from the tall, black car. The metal hood shining in the moonlight as the noise from the pub made its way through the streets.
The noise grew as they walked in, the smell of booze filling the air as they made their way to the bar.
“Hiya Mr. Shelby. What can I get for you and the lucky lady?” The bartender asked cheerfully.
“The usual for me. What about you love?” He asked, her mind racing with trying to decide on something.
“I’ll just have what he’s having? And a gin please.” She said.
“You like whiskey?” He asked with a smirk.
“Yeah. Only drink it on bad nights usually. Takes the pain away.” She said.
“Pain of what?” He asked as the bartender sat a whole bottle down along with two shot glasses and her gin.
Tommy nodded at the bartender as she spoke.
“A lot of things. I see a lot of people in bad shape all time. Kind of haunts ya you know? And dealing with patients like your cousin aren’t much better. Pain in my ass really.” She said, chuckling and taking a nervous sip of her gin.
“Aye, that he is. I told him to lay off though. You helped save him after all. It’s the least he could do.” He said, pouring them both a shot.
“So are we splitting the bill or? I don’t mind.” She said.
“Nah, I get the drinks for free. That includes yours.” He said.
“Oh...” she said, taking a swig of her gin again, the clear liquid burning like fire on the way down.
“I make gin.” He said, changing the subject.
“Oh really? Is it good?” She asked.
“Personally I think it is, some people prefer it...not as sweet though. What do you think of it?” He asked.
“Wait, this is yours?” She asked, downing the last of it slowly, trying to form a decent opinion as it burned down her throat.
“Hmm, well...” she said, turning her nose up, jokingly.
“I’m kidding. You should’ve seen your face, love...It’s good though. I don’t think it’s too sweet...It’s just right.” She said, looking up at him as he downed his now third shot.
“You drinking that whole bottle?” She asked.
He shook his head and lit a cigarette, pouring her another after she downed the first one.
“Not unless you help me. Maybe then I’ll make it back to the house.” He said.
“You live ‘round here?” She asked.
“Not anymore. Up at Arrow House.” He said, blowing a puff of smoke away from her.
“Jesus. I don’t want to know what that cost, but I’m sure you and your blinders could afford those things. Is it nice?” She asked, slightly regretting the rapid pace she downed the shots in.
“It’s grand. More so in the sense it’s empty. Lots of rooms with no life in them really. My son Charlie’s there but that’s it besides the nanny and the maids.” He said.
“You have a whole crew then. I’m impressed.” She said.
“Would you like to go there?” He asked.
“Sure. But...” she said, pouring herself a shot of the whiskey.
“Let’s finish this first, can’t let a good thing go to waste aye?” She said, knocking back a shot. Her head slowly turning fuzzy as she hadn’t drank in a few months.
As she put the bottle down, a drunken man came up behind her suddenly, an ugly smile on his face as he grasped at her bum.
She quickly turned around, backing up towards Tommy.
“Get your fucking hands off me you bastard! Go on, go!” She yelled, shoving the already unstable man until he stumbled back. The liquor slowly getting to her as she watched the scene unfold.
Thomas moved her behind him as she watched him unbutton his sleeves, the act causing her to bite her lip curiously as she watched his posture change. The drunken man getting up and slurring his words in a drunken rage as he went to punch him. Tommy blocked the shaky punch and landed one on the mans nose as he stumbled back, blood erupting from the mans nose and also from Tommy’s hands from the sharp impact. The man, with practically more booze than blood in his system came at him again, this time landing a hit to his cheek causing a gash to form. As the brawl ensued, she watched tipsily as a crowd gathered around them both, egging on the blinder who practically owned half of Birmingham at that point.
“You bastard! You broke me nose!” The man yelled, finally noticing the damage done.
“Yeah well you touched my girl so I’d say we’re even. Now go on before I kill ya.” He said in a low voice, his cheek bleeding as he spoke.
“Y-you’ll pay for this. I swear it!” The man said angrily as he pushed his way through the pub and out the door, nearly stumbling as he walked onto the cold cobblestone streets.
“You alright Y/N?” Thomas asked as he turned around, wiping the blood on a towel the bartender already had ready for him.
“I-I’m fine.” She said, going back to the bar and pouring herself another shot, her nerves finally calming down after wanting to beat the man up herself, knowing she could have if only she’d tried harder.
“I think he had concrete for a nose.” He said, she could see the way his skin spilt around his worn knuckles, the blood snaking it’s way down his arm as he clutched the bottle of whiskey.
“Sorry you had to see that.” He said, knocking a shot back and then pulling out another cigarette, a frustrated sigh coming from his lips as the flames from the lighter ignited the thin roll of paper.
“Don’t be sorry. You did a good thing. I’m just mad I couldn’t punch him myself.” She said smirking, trying to lighten the mood as the atmosphere around them returned to normal.
He smirked at that, causing the blood to trickle down his face more as she watched.
“Here. This’ll hurt but it’ll help for now.” She said, turning the bottle neck-down so some it would pour onto the towel. As she leaned in to dab it on his cut cheek, his eyes scanned her face. She was halfway focused due to the alcohol in her system but still more calm than others in the past. He tried not to wince as she applied light pressure, not wanting to hurt him.
“How about we finish this bottle and head out?” He asked.
“Sounds like a plan.” She said, clinking her shot glass with his after setting the bloody towel down.
They both drank until the bottle ran dry, Y/N’s head feeling light and slightly like it was spinning as she made her way to the car. Thomas on the other hand seemed a bit less un-phased, having drunken more in that one week than she had in months.
“Did...did I say thank you? I really should’ve said thank you. That was brave. You just....cracked him right in the nose.” She said drunkenly as she made a punching gesture with her fist.
Thomas chuckled as he drove them to his house, the cool night air slowly sobering them up as they set out for the seemingly long drive to the large manor in the countryside.
“Tommy?” She asked, her eyes landing on him as the moonlight shined through the windows of the car, only his silhouette visible as he spoke.
“Yeah love?”
“Out of all the women...why me? Why’d you decide to go out with a nurse?” She said, laughing at herself slightly. The world slowly not spinning as much as they neared the house.
Thomas was silent for a moment, trying to choose his words carefully since he’d been so reckless with past suitors. He couldn’t stand another heartbreak and so he decided to think a bit more cautiously, for once.
Tommy sighed as he pulled up to the manor, his door creaking as he closed it and helped her out.
“I just happen to like you. You seem...kind. At least when a drunk isn’t trying to put the moves on ya” He said, leading her into the house, the rooms eerily empty as everyone was asleep.
“I see. Well Tommy, if it’s any consolation, I uh may just happen to like you as well. I don’t really care about what they say you know.” She said, fiddling with the buttons on her coat as he helped her take it off.
“And what do they say, Y/N?” He asked, his hand going to hers as he led her around the house quietly.
“They say you’re a drug dealing gangster who kills for fun.” She said smirking.
“They’re only half right, love.” He said, stopping just outside his bedroom.
“How so?” She asked, looking into his eyes in the dimly lit hall.
“I kill for business. Not for fun.” He said, gently caressing her cheek before he brought his lips to hers.
She broke away after a moment, looking at the cut on his cheek.
“I don’t want to hurt you, you need stitches you know.” She said, smirking up at him.
He sighed and led her into the grand bedroom, the luxurious bathroom located just near the room as they walked towards it.
Thomas turned on the light, illuminating the space as he rummaged around for alcohol and his small sewing kit, which saved him more often than not.
“I usually do this myself but I’m sure you’re better at this love.” He said, sitting on the counter as she stood between his legs, expertly threading the needle as she inspected it.
“This is going to hurt, I’m just being honest with you.” She said, forgoing her usual bedside manners.
“Can’t be worse than what I’ve done to myself aye? You won’t leave a huge scar like I would.” He said, looking at her as she started her work. The needle stinging as she quickly stitched him up.
“Scar a handsome face like yours? I could never.” She said, with a smirk as she tied off the stitch and clipped it, dabbing a bit of the alcohol on it to clean it once more. Before he could move, she took his hand gently in hers, dabbing the blood off his hand and running the alcohol over his knuckles as he sat there, a hiss of pain escaping his mouth at the unexpected burn.
“That was worse.” He said.
“I know. It’s never fun treating busted knuckles. I’d suggest maybe not punching anyone in the next couple of days...if you can manage.” She said, bandaging them up.
“For you, I’ll try not to. Now...” He trailed off, his eyes roaming over her.
“What?” She asked, looking at him as she caught him staring.
“Where were we?” He asked, his hand gently holding hers as she stood closer.
**Explicit/18+ Content Ahead. Please skip over the italicized portion if you are under 18, thank you!**
“Oh....right...” she said smirking, bringing her lips gently to his as his hands found their way to her hips, pulling her towards him. Their kiss grew heated as more time passed, his hand stinging as he snaked it through her hair, bringing her closer to him as he broke from her lips and sucked light bruises onto her neck, eliciting a soft moan from her lips.
Their hands wandered over each other, pulling at what clothing remained between them as Thomas led her to the bed. Her smooth skin feeling like silk under his rough fingertips.
Y/N giggled as he laid her on the bed, kissing his way down her neck and chest until he got to her core. His head resting perfectly between her legs as he devoured her, the feeling indescribable as she clutched the expensive sheets beneath her. Her insides soon turning to a knot as she felt her orgasm coming on, her hands finding their way to his head as she grasped his hair tightly, feeling her hips grinding on him as he brought her over the edge, her moans filling the room as she came undone on his lips. As he lifted his head up, he hovered over her, kissing his way up to her lips as she tasted herself on him. Slowly urging her hand down to take hold of him, already hard and yearning to be inside her.
“You sure?” He asked, a low moan escaping his lips as she pumped him. With a quick nod she aligned him with her entrance, wanting nothing more than to close the gap between them. She gasped lightly at the sensation, the pressure of him filling her up as he began thrusting his hips into her. The familiar feeling washing over her again minutes later, tightening around him as she moaned his name. The dim lighting making it harder to see as they continued, making the sensation all the more heightened as his thrusts quickened, and a low moan came from his lips again.
In a swift movement, he let her get on top, riding him as he watched from under her. Her hands scratching down his chest as her body tensed around him, grinding herself down harder and faster as she came once more. Her scratches leaving slight red streaks down his chest as she came down from her high.
Thomas sat up slightly as she rode him slowly once more, his hips meeting hers as she bounced on his cock. His breathing a bit ragged as he came closer. His thrusts getting slower with every minute. As she came close once more, Thomas let out a moan as he came undone, pulling her closer to him as he did so, her walls clenching around him as she moaned in his ear. Their breathing both leveling out as they lied next to each other, sleep finally invading their bones as they lay tangled in each other’s embrace.
“You don’t want me to leave do you?” She asked after a while, stealing Thomas’ cigarette from his mouth as she took a drag from it.
“I’d quite like it if ya stayed actually. Why? Do you want to?” He asked, watching the smoke escape her lips.
“No, I just thought you’d want me to. Didn’t think you’d want anything more after this.” She said.
“What if I do want something more aye?” He asked.
She smiled and thought for a moment before kissing him.
“Then you’ll have to be more careful Tommy Shelby. Can’t have you being hurt everyday. The hospital is full as it is.” She said.
Thomas chuckled as he looked down at her, her eyes lighting up at his smile.
“I’ll try, but I’m not making any promises.” He said, kissing her once more before they decided to go to bed for the night, the hope for a new relationship ever so looming on the horizon.
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Thomas Shelby Tag List:
@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @wowjeena, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @psychkunox, @peakyxtommy, @captivatedbycillianmurphy,@dreamwastakenx,
@lovemissyhoneybee @thomashelbyswhore​, @xxbeckybeexx-blog​
If you’d like to be added/removed, just send me an ask/message! :)
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mymedicine · 4 years
Text
Alocasia
or, 7.5k words of blushy harry and sassy y/n
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moodboard/inspo tag + my masterlist
sum - y/n doesn’t like people, but she likes harry—even though he keeps fucking this up
warnings - language, alcohol, mentions of sex (not explicit), lots of banter, excessive use of parentheses, umm... veganism?
notes - hiii! for once i don’t really have anything to say other than welcome, to a very fluffy and kind of chaotic one shot. hope you give her a chance and a reblog if you enjoy! <3
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Upon moving into his charming downtown apartment, Harry was feeling a lot of things.
He was excited at the prospect of living there, of waking up in his cozy new bedroom, of flipping pancakes in the kitchen with a stunning view of the city skyline, and of lounging on his soft gray couch while watching reruns of Criminal Minds. He was also anxious, and a little annoyed. There were groceries to be bought, chores to be done, bills to be paid (Fuckin’ landlord was an ass for refusing to include utilities in the rent). The cabinets in the bathroom were a little creaky (Do I need some WD-40? Can I afford WD-40?!) He even had to walk up four flights of stairs to get to his door, a task which Harry was keen to count as his daily exercise.
Above all, Harry was lonely. Living alone was a blessing and a curse, he reckoned. He could lounge about without any clothes, dance in the kitchen to the sounds of Folklore (a guilty pleasure), and watch creepypasta videos on YouTube until three am (and consequently stay up til dawn, for fear of nightmares) without worrying about anyone but himself.
But after just two days in the new place, he was concerned that the cost of privacy may not be worth it. Loneliness and boredom weighed heavily on his conscience as he laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Not only did he live alone, but he also didn’t have any friends in the city yet. No one to see, nothing to do. Lost, he decided. No direction, no purpose…Only four walls and a bunch of empty cabinets.
And yet it wasn’t even social interaction he craved necessarily—it was purpose, company, and…perhaps some cuddles. He briefly considered the idea of a pet. Maybe a friendly little French bulldog to chase around and be responsible for? Or a fluffy Maine Coon kitty to scratch behind the ear and snuggle at night?
But the bills…the responsibility…The prudent adult deep within Harry knew he was hardly ready to support himself, let alone a helpless animal. He’d have to feed it and walk it and make sure it didn’t shit all over the floor—not to mention the landlord would raise hell if he found out.
Meanwhile, the soft, gentle, maybe a little naive man who dominated Harry’s conscience was craving a friend. Pets were a no for now, so what’s the next best thing? He grappled with the question…Surely, a person was the obvious answer. He wouldn’t mind a pretty body to warm his heart—or, at least, his bed.
Harry stretched his legs out over the arm of the couch—the only furniture he had at the moment aside from his mattress on the floor of the bedroom—and snuggled into his cozy corduroy blanket, craving warmth in the cold apartment. A rainbow cardigan adorned his chest today, draped over a plain white turtleneck that warmed his neck. He liked to keep it cold so he could be snuggly wrapped in his sweaters without sweating bullets. He dug around in the pocket of his cardigan for his phone, eager to receive affection from something other than his clothes.
In retrospect, Tinder had given Harry far more unfortunate encounters with other people (lots of younger girls just looking for a plug and toxic guys who left him on read) than pleasurable ones. But hindsight was always 20/20 and isolation had already planted the seed in his head.
He quickly examined his own profile. It consisted of two photos of him smirking softly (not too serious, but not too eager either), one with his sister and his mum (to show he’s a family man), and a group one with his mates (because sure, he was lonely, but he didn’t want people to know that). There were also one or two shirtless photos (thirst traps, according to Niall) that he’d sprinkled in between the tame ones even though it made him feel kind of icky. Weighing the odds, he’d decided that desperation for matches outweighed the cringey-ness of it all.
His very last photo was the only one where he felt like himself. He was smiling wide in it, wearing a baby blue sweater with a little chick popping out of its egg on the front that Mitch had teased him for back home. His bio, too, showcased his wholesome values.
Harry’s eyes widened as he observed on the first person he saw upon opening the home page—Y/N. She only had two photos—a shot of her perched on a car hood and smiling wide and one far away one with her figure drowning in a sea of…plants. Fittingly, her bio read: “I love plants and I hate people.”
She was beautiful and every bit as anti-social as himself. It was perfect.
Harry laughed softly to himself and swiped right immediately. He was giddy when the familiar It’s a match! popped up on the screen immediately. His thumbs hovered over the keypad, brow furrowed as he frowned at the screen. Matching was one thing, but actually starting a conversation was another entirely.
Ultimately, he decided honesty was the best policy:
you had me at ‘i hate people’ :D
Now what? Matching was one thing, starting a conversation was another, but having a whole conversation was another thing entirely. He hated the waiting, especially when he had absolutely nothing to busy himself with in the mean time, aside from fiddling with his fingers and doing laps around his living room.
Seven minutes later (not that he’s counting), a ding came through on his phone.
y/n: you had me at ‘treat people with kindness,’ mon petit :)
Harry smiled wide. He was pleased she’d noticed not only his bio, but also the sweater he was wearing in his favorite photo of himself. It was the perfect response from a perfect girl.
harry: so what do you do?
y/n: i work at a plant shop on Main
Figures, he thought. He imagined her carrying a watering pitcher, tending to a plant with gentle fingers. She’d be surrounded by them like she was in the photo on her profile, green on all sides. God, he thought. What a beautiful scene with a beautiful star.
harry: wanna go for drinks tonight and talk about plants?
y/n: sure ;)
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Nightfall brought a chill to the air that made Harry desperately want to curl up into his warm bed and snuggle into his pillow. But here he was, shuffling his feet outside the crowded bar and absently wearing another tiny hole in the sleeve of his striped sweater. It was a decent bar in town. They didn’t water down the drinks and they kept the lights dim so she wouldn’t have to see him flushed beet red after one drink. That is, if she would show up at all.
“Hey, you’re Harry?”
He turned quickly toward the sound of the voice, and there she was. And holy shit, he thought. That is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her two profile photos did not even begin to do her justice. The idea of a mere photo on a screen couldn’t even compare to the real thing. He would never be keen to look at a photo again, he reckoned. It wouldn’t make his heart bloom and flutter like the vision of her in front of him did. Was this love at first sight?
“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, and not because the chilly night, “Y/N, right?”
Harry didn’t think he really believed in love—certainly not love at first sight, but this girl was throwing him into another world. Before, he couldn’t seem to stand still, but her presence in front him planted his feet firmly on the ground.
“Yep, that’s me!” She smiled wide, speaking cooly and confidently. It was obvious she knew how beautiful she was and, even more evident, how enamored Harry already was with her.
“I—you’re absolutely beautiful,” The words slipped out of his lips before he could catch them—not that he was really making any effort to hide his attraction for her. Still, he enjoyed the way her eyes brightened and teeth gently nibbled at her bottom lip in response to the compliment
And suddenly, the idea of merely kissing her soft flesh, tickling her sweet bud, and ultimately burying himself inside her tonight didn’t seem like enough. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to smell her hair and hear her laugh. He wanted to make her pancakes in the morning and kiss her lips, sweetened lightly with maple syrup. He wanted to love her.
No, he couldn’t possibly ruin his chance with a girl like this by fucking her on the couch in his cold, lonely apartment, never to see or hear from her again.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“Of course.”
One hour and four and a half drinks later, (whiskey cokes for Y/N, vodka crans for Harry) the cramped bar was hot and they were floating on air. He’d learned that she worked at Main Street Nursery, usually by herself, sometimes with her cousin who owned the place. She was an avid vegan, but only because she hated meat and dairy made her sick. She’d learned that Harry was new in town and lived only a block away from Main. Also, Y/N managed to learn that Harry had no friends here and was very lonely in his new apartment, but only after his third vodka cran when the already weak filter in his throat began to crumble and embarrassing things spewed out of his lips like a spout.
“Let’s dance, H.” Y/N requested, gently caressing his bicep from where she sat beside him.
Oh god. No amount of alcohol would let him embarrass himself like that. “I don’t really… uh—“
But Y/N was having none of that. She thrust his half empty glass in his face, eyebrows raised in a pointed look. “Come on, baby!”
He hesitated for only a moment. Her fingers were soft and warm and distracting against his arm and it was very dark in the crowded bar, but he could easily see her bright eyes and the mischief dancing around in them. Somehow, she looked just as beautiful after putting away five whiskey cokes. Ah fuck. How could he possibly say no to her?
Harry tipped the glass against his lips, downed the bitter beverage, and finally let her tug him to the middle of the room.
A few people were dancing raunchily to the loud music, and the combination of the alcohol and the darkness and Y/N’s effortless beauty gave Harry the confidence to join them. He placed his hands gingerly around her waist, nearly flinching at the warm feeling of her skin against his. Y/N flashed him a blissful, slightly drunken grin and squeezed his bicep more firmly, relaxing in his hold.
Y/N led them in a giggly dance, letting her hands wander Harry’s body and ultimately settle around his neck. Brain foggy with an alcohol induced haze, she swayed her hips against his.
Minutes turned into an hour or so and Y/N had grown quite comfortable in the circle of Harry’s arms, fronts flushed together impossibly close.
“Wanna get out of here?” Her whisper in the shell of his ear was alluring, seductive, sweet, and almost irresistible. But Harry was on a mission—one that only included seeing her again after tonight and, ultimately, making her his. Five vodka crans weren’t quite enough to outweigh his desire for something more. No, this plan didn’t include fucking her. (At least, not tonight).
“Um, I think we should…er—slow down…”
“You don’t...you don’t wanna hookup?” She looked up at him with something like disappointment (or maybe anxiety? insecurity? He wasn’t sure) in her eyes.
“No, it’s just… I—I wanted to get to know you?”
Y/N subtly stepped away from him, just an inch or so, but more than enough for him to notice and consequently panic. “Oh um, It’s okay...I just thought—well, I didn’t think we’d really be getting to know each other…”
Ouch. She obviously was not on the same page as he was with the whole I WANT TO LOVE YOU thing he had going on at the moment. The alcohol thickened his skin a little, easing the sting of her words.
“But if I’m like...not pretty enough or nice enough I—uh...” she was rambling a little—and oh god, she must be wasted if she’s questioning her beauty. Harry’s heart hurt. How could she not see that she was perfect inside and out?
“No, Y/N! You’re perfect…it’s just—“
“I get it, um...”
“I’m sorry, you don’t understand!
“I understand, Harry…I guess I’ll just—go home now.”
Well, fuck. In an effort to prolong his time with her, he’d managed to cut it short and blow his shot to see her again at all. He kicked himself for hoping. Hope for the best, expect the worst, he reminded himself. He was just fine at the hoping part, but the disappointment in the aftermath bit even deeper than his desperate loneliness.
Back to square one.
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I’m going for a plant…if Y/N happens to be there then…Harry thought as he approached Main Street, then Y/N will be there. His heart skipped a beat at the thought. He tugged nervously at the sleeves of his sweater—this one white with a “my life is crap” graphic that he found quite funny—wearing another tiny hole in the fabric. He absently regretted not taking a shot or two before impulsively jogging across the block to the plant shop, but he pushed the thought out of his mind. I’m just here to get a plant.
Truthfully, he didn’t know shit about plants, but how hard could it be? Surely, all it took was a little water and a sunny spot. Optimistic, he wandered into the cute little shop. Upon entering, he found it wasn’t really indoors at all—just four walls of greenery with only a few wooden beams as a ceiling, allowing rays of mid-morning sunshine to illuminate the space quite beautifully. Harry couldn’t help but notice how one such ray shone directly on the most beautiful creature in the shop.
The scene was even more delightful than he’d imagined. She looked ethereal doing even the most mundane tasks, he thought. The way her skin glowed in the sunlight in front of a backdrop of lush greenery? Heavenly. He took a few more moments to absently admire her as she lifted a watering can above her head with skilled hands, squinting at the sun while reaching up to water a large, leafy looking plant that hung from one of the beams.
The plant was hanging just low enough to block her view of Harry, so when he gently cleared his throat to call her name, she leaped backward. A loud thud rang out and suddenly, the watering can was no longer grasped between her fingers and her pale pink apron was stained crimson—completely drenched.
“Oh my god!” they both screeched at the same time.
Harry felt the weight of the world on his shoulders as he ran over to her. “I’m so sorry angel,” he said, picking up the now leaking can from the floor. “I really didn’t mean to scare you, oh my god, are you okay?!”
She looked a mess, quite honestly. But even covered in water and sprawled out on the concrete floor, she was cute to him, like a little bud sprouting out of the pot. She looked up at him with a contemptuous stare.
“Harry!” She cried from the floor, “What are you doing?”
While he did appreciate how adorable she looked, Harry was horrified. He hadn’t known her long, but he’d never heard her stutter or seen her blush like that. Even in their brief text exchanges and one night together, she’d always seemed so confident, so effortlessly graceful and calm. “I’m so sorry love, I really didn’t mean to—“
“Why are you here?”
“I-I just...I just wanted a plant and—and… I know you love them, and I thought there wouldn’t be anywhere better to go...”
Y/N’s expression softened as he rambled. “Okay, well, feel free to look around,” She stumbled to her feet, murmuring as she went. She wiped her hands on her soaked apron, trying to clean them but actually just spreading the wetness. “And um…Let me know if you need anything.”
She pressed a tight lipped grin on and her voice went a tinge too high pitched. She was clearly putting herself in customer service mode, but Harry caught a playful glint behind her bright eyes.
Harry flushed red and turned away from her, kicking himself for being so clumsy. He craned his head around the shop, feeling hopelessly overwhelmed. He wanted to ask her for help or at least a gentle push in right direction, but he figured he’d already bothered her enough.
Even with his back to her, Y/N’s presence was distracting. He could hear her feet shuffling around softly, the light clang of the metal watering can against the counter, even the pinging sound from her phone as he wandered the store.
Harry made a few aimless circles around before particular plant caught his eye. It was a modest looking plant, no where near as big as some of the hanging vines and rubber trees that littered the store. It had large, dark green leaves with jagged looking edges and sat pretty in a terra cotta pot near the front of the store.
He decided this plant would suit his needs perfectly (what are those needs again? He asked himself, company? responsibility?). He ultimately ignored his thoughts and the fact that he wasn’t even himself clear on what he wanted and picked up the plant in both arms. He shivered upon realizing that Y/N was probably watching him the whole time as he brought the plant to the counter where she was waiting. Watching him struggle and make a fool out of himself, that is.
“Did you find everything okay?” she asked cordially.
Harry nodded stiffly, unsure what to say. “Mmhm.”
“Have you got others?” Y/N continued making conversation while punching some numbers into the cash register, smiling and avoiding his gaze.
Harry looked up at the same time she looked away from the register. He was a little startled by her question, not expecting her to actually speak to him after what he’d done earlier. “Uh, no. I just moved here, remember?”
“Oh, right—well, you know this is an alocasia?” she said it very gently, with a patient smile. He didn’t like that she was avoiding his gaze before, but now that she was staring at him unwaveringly, he felt like he was under a microscope. Heat rose is Harry’s cheeks. Did the name of the plant matter?
“Uh, yeah? I mean, uh—I had a few back in my old place…” Why Harry? Why is your first instinct to lie?
“So you know what to do with this kind of plant?’
“Um…yeah?” He stammered, speech as rushed and clumsy as the beating of his heart. His sweaty palms further confirmed the obvious—Y/N made him nervous. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was perfect. He felt desperately out of place in front of her here. How could he possibly impress her? After he’d already fucked up more than once?
“I, well—nevermind,” Y/N replied finally, shaking her head. She was still smiling, but now he felt like she was giggling to herself because she knew something he didn’t.
“Did you want to add some Miracle Potion to your purchase today?” she asked, back in customer service mode once again.
Harry did not know what the fuck Miracle Potion was, but it sounded like a rehearsed line she was required to say during every transaction. She was looking at him so pointedly though, and the brightness of her eyes was distracting. How could he say no when she was looking at him like that?
“Yeah, why not.”
And seeing her beam at him with that lovely smile was so worth the extra eight dollars.
Harry cradled his new plant—Franklin, he’d decided—in both arms, awkwardly body-slamming his apartment door to get it open without his hands. First order of business after setting Franklin down on the coffee table was to quench his thirst. He still hadn’t gone on a real grocery trip for the new place, so he’s been living off of trail mix and kombucha. Harry craved kombucha like plants craved water.
Which brought him to the second order of business: research. He sat on the couch with his trail mix, kombucha, and laptop, quickly opening up a search for “alocasia plant care”
And suddenly Y/N’s behavior made sense.
Of course, of every plant he could have chosen at random, Harry’d gone for one of the most difficult, demanding, and definitely-not-for-beginners house plants in the shop.
He had a funny feeling it wasn’t the last time his optimism would get him in trouble.
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Harry was frustrated.
It’d been less than twenty four hours since he became a father, and his once green-leafed baby was already browning at the edges. He frowned, peering at Franklin’s crisp leaves as he meticulously sprayed the Miracle Potion into the soil. The once dry dirt was starting to look a little better, but—holy shit!
Harry leaped away from the table, dropping the spray and nearly knocking himself onto his ass. His eyes were wide and his heart was pounding. He felt betrayed and horrified. Y/N never mentioned that there’d be bugs crawling in the soil! But Harry could not unsee the tiny worm-ish looking guy slithering up from the depths of the pot and onto the base of Franklin’s stem.
This was a mistake. A huge mistake. Who has he kidding?
He couldn’t help himself. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, dialing the plant shop’s number without a second thought.
“Hello, you’ve reached Main Street Nursery! We’re not available right now, please leave a message and we’ll call back as soon as possible.”
“Y/N! S’Harry and, oh my god there’s a bug in Franklin! I was sprayin’ the potion stuff on the soil like ya said to but then there was a big worm thing and I dunno what to do now? I’m scared Y/N, why didn’t ya tell me there’d be bugs?! Holy shit, Franklin’s gonna die, what the fu—“
A beep interrupted his ramblings, which Harry would later be grateful for. He was always a sort of ramble-y type, but adding a pretty girl and a bug-induced panic was more than enough to make him insufferably talkative.
He begrudgingly opened the Tinder app, his only other means of communicating with her. He typed out a lengthy message with rapid fingers, explaining the bug situation in between a series of colorful emojis.
thought you knew what you were doing? Y/N’s reply came in three and a half minutes later.
harry: I lied :(
(No use in lying now).
y/n: that’s alright bub. just relax, I’ll bring you some bug stickers
Bug stickers? What the fuck? He’d already made a fool of himself, so he might as well ask, he reasoned.
harry: why would I want a bug sticker?!!
y/n: just send me your address
He did as she asked, blushing profusely at the thought of her being in his apartment. Oh shit, he realized. She’s gonna be in my apartment. Realistically, he knew she probably wouldn’t even come past the front door. She’d just give him the damn stickers and then go off to whatever better things she had to do. But if Harry has any dominant personality trait, it’s optimism.
So he quickly started to tidy the living space—careful to avoid the coffee table where Franklin and his new worm-ish adversary sat. The plant aside, it’s a cute little place that screamed an unemployed single man lives here. Once the kombucha bottles and gum wrappers are thrown out, he puts way too much effort into swiping the trail mix crumbs off the couch and carefully arranging a throw blanket across the arm of it—she won’t even be coming near the couch, Harry, chill out.
When would she be coming? She hadn’t given him a time. She’d asked for his address…did that mean she was coming immediately? Maybe she’d asked for it to come by later? Or tomorrow?—
A loud knocking at the door interrupted his thoughts.
He should have expected this. Even after only meeting twice, he should’ve known she’d barge right into his living room, skirting right past him to find Franklin. The first thing he learned about her was that she owed plants and hated people.
“Um, hello love,” he said awkwardly, trailing behind her. “Thanks for coming over.”
Y/N looked up from where she was examining the plant’s leaves as if she’d just noticed him lurking behind her (very on brand for her, Harry noted to himself). He was taken with her sudden eye contact. Her eyes had that same sparkly glow as they did in the shop—they got that way when she talked about her veganism and her cousin and her plants.
“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, mister Harry Styles. You’re a liar.” she said plainly. She was frowning at him (Is that a playful frown? He hoped so) “You’re a liar and it almost cost Franklin’s life.”
Harry was, once again, horrified. If he hadn’t proper fucked it up the first two times they met, he’d surely done it now. Y/N loved plants more than she loved breathing, and he’d almost killed one. And he lied to her! Fuck you’re such an idiot Harry...get it together.
Y/N must’ve seen his turmoil, (how could she not? He always did wear his heart on his sleeve) for she cracked a happy grin and smacked him playfully on the arm. “I’m just kidding Harry, for gods sake!”
“But...but the plant—“
“—will be fine.”
“And the...the bug?”
Y/N turned back to the plant and squinted into the soil. She put her hands on her hips over the fabric of her wide pants (Palazzo? Harry wondered absently. They were like those gypsy looking pants that looked super comfy—like, one step above pajamas...and damn where could I get some of those?)
“Is the bug on my ass, H?”
“W-what?” He replied, snapping out of his reverie with wide eyes. No! He blubbered, tearing his eyes away from the yellow fabric to her face, where her lips were pursed and her eyebrows were raised accusingly. He didn’t even mean to be staring at her ass (though it did look cute and peachy in the palazzo pants, he couldn’t help but notice now), but, feeling caught, he blushed sheepishly anyway.
She dropped the accusatory glare, replacing it with a wide smile. “Only joking,” she interrupted his ramblings. “Still reckon you were lyin’ about the bug jus’ to get me over here, though.”
Harry sighed exasperatedly, heart racing as he meandered around the couch toward the table where she was leaning. She kept him on his toes and it was as exhausting as it was enticing.
He got right up behind her and peered over her shoulder at the soil. “There!” He cried, almost having another heart attack at the sight of the little black bug. In a rushed attempt to show her the worm so she could get rid of it, he’d probably put himself way closer to her than necessary. He could feel the fabric of her long pants brushing his toes and her sharp breath hitch against his chest.
“Oh Harry,” she laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls of his apartment like beams of light. Looking away from the danger, he focused his attention on her instead. He couldn’t help but notice how her hair smelled like flowers and freshly mowed grass and ...honey? Something sweet and enticing and natural, like the earth. Like a sprawling meadow or rose garden or—
He’d been effectively distracted by her that he’d almost forgot the reason for his fear, the reason she was even here. That is, until the little bugger was out of the soil and crawling on her finger.
Harry screeched and leaped backward, and this time, he did fall on his ass. Right in front of the couch he’d cleaned for her while she giggled profusely. The gentle melody of her laughter and sweet little coos at the bug softened the sting of embarrassment—a little.
“Aw he’s so cute!” She prodded her other finger at the creature, which really was no bigger than her fingernail, but horrified Harry anyways. “Can’t believe Harry wanted me to come and kill you, sweet little thing.”
He was once again struck by how gentle and nurturing and sickened-sweet she got with plants and animals. Meanwhile she laughed at him and teased him ruthlessly for his dramatics.
“Here,” she said “Hold him.”
She thrust her finger into his hands from where she stood above him. Harry flinched away, but couldn’t move far enough from where he sat with his legs folded and feet planted on the ground. The worm fell into his palm. The tiny impact of it on his skin ignited an explosion of fear through him.
A millisecond passed and it crawled through the hole in the wrist of his sweater, causing his panic to quadruple.
He screamed out loud while Y/N continued laughing at him. “AH!” Harry screamed and flapped his wrists violently, throwing himself against the couch with wide eyes as he felt the horrible tickling of the creature crawling on his skin.
“Stop! Stop Harry, let me!” Y/N stepped closer, ducking between his outstretched legs. She shielded her face with one hand and desperately groped around for Harry’s wrist with the other. Finally, he paused to breathe and Y/N caught his arm in both of hers.
She wrestled his arm to still and calmly plucked the creature from his skin. “Thank God,” she sighed dramatically in relief, holding it on her finger between them. “The little fighter survived your temper tantrum!”
“No!” Harry cried, now shielding his own face from the wrath of the worm.
He watched her get up and drop the bug back into Franklin’s soil, all the while laughing at him.
“You’re such a baby, Harry,” she cooed as she turned back to where he was still sat on the floor, “And no wonder you’re so cold in here. You’ve got holes all in your sweater!”
“I’ve got holes in all my sweaters. My mum used to fix them f’me.” He frowned, missing her and his friends suddenly. Living alone was hard.
“You’re hopeless,” Y/N shook her head as she bent down to sit on the coffee table next to Franklin and sent him endeared smile. “I could fix them for you?”
Harry reeled back and blushed, “You—you could do that for me?”
Yes, living alone was hard and lonely and boring. Harry had been shamefully making excuses to see her for several days now, and yet he was completely oblivious to her doing the exact same thing.
“Sure! Come over tomorrow and bring all your sweaters.”
Harry saw absolutely no reason to object. He could never say no to her, anyways. “Okay, then.”
“In the meantime, take these…” She reached into her pocket and fished out four yellow squares of what looked like...tape?
“These are bug stickers,” she explained. “You tape them around Franklin’s stem and it’ll catch the gnats and aphids and stuff. Won’t kill your new little friend though.”
Despite her teasing tone and his lingering fear, Harry couldn’t help but smile at her while she demonstrated how to tape the bug sticker on. He’d deal with all the goddamn bugs in the world if it meant she’d be pleased with him.
She finished taping it on and turned back to him with an adorable little flourish, as if to say ta-da!
“Can I offer you some kombucha for your trouble?” Harry suddenly blurted.
What the fuck Harry? Who the fuck says ‘can I offer you—‘
“Ew, no!” She interrupted his self-loathing, face twisting in disgust, “Kombucha tastes like dish soap.”
Hurt, Harry reeled back again and a shocked expression graced his face, “You don’t like kombucha?! Don’t vegans like, live for that shit?!”
“This vegan has taste,” she replied with a snarky smirk. “And besides, I’ve got to get back to the shop for work like, now.”
“Oh, okay no problem.” Harry stuttered, “Thanks again.”
“Sure thing!”
And as quickly as she’d busted in, she was gone, leaving the apartment as cold and lonely as ever. Harry frowned, feeling as if he’d blown it once again. No ‘see you tomorrow’ or ‘thanks for having me.’ Chance after chance and still he made a fool out of himself. She hadn’t even told him where she lived! Maybe the offer to come over and get his sweaters fixed had been a pity invite and she actually wanted nothing to do with him ever again. The thought made his stomach churn. Where was his customary optimism when he needed it?
Grumbling, he grabbed a fresh kombucha from the fridge, wishing it was something stronger.
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Franklin and his little worm friend’s (Harry didn’t think the bugger deserved a sweet name like the alocasia did—it was still a disgusting creature that made his skin crawl) company did little to satiate the aching loneliness he was feeling throughout the following day.
Finally, a message came through his phone from an unknown number.
unknown: hey harry, it’s y/n! did you still want to come over today?
harry: howd you get my number
Even through a screen, Harry managed to blurt out the first thing that popped into his head. Fuck. Shit. She’s gonna think he’s avoiding the question! He rapidly began composing a second message, but the three little dots appeared and interrupted his flying thumbs.
y/n: your message on the answering machine at work.
by the way, that was hilarious
harry: right, well. sorry for that
and yes, id love to come over.
y/n: no worries, i saved it to listen to when i need a laugh.
haha cool here’s my address
harry: should i bring food or wine or something?
A new wave of anxiety washed over him as he looked at the address she’d sent. Now what? What would they do? Would he just drop off his sweaters and leave? Or would she invite him in? What would he say then?
y/n: just bring yourself and your sweaters, mon petit!
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Harry was speechless. Much like the shop she worked at, Y/N’s apartment could rival an actual jungle. Greenery of all different shapes and shades and sizes lined the walls, and while they had the exact same floor plan, it was an entirely different world than the one Harry was living in.
Y/N, meanwhile, effortlessly sauntered deeper into her space. She looked like she belonged there, obviously, but Harry felt like a fish out of water.
“They won’t bite, you know,” Y/N giggled, noticing his apprehension. She was watching him patiently with something like fondness in her eyes. Harry felt her careful gaze on him, but the magnificent green scene around him claimed his attention—but not for long.
Gently, Y/N took his fingers between hers and pulled him deeper into her space. Harry stumbled over his feet, craning his head to look at the plants hanging from the ceiling. How the hell did she even water those?
Y/N couldn’t help but smile. He looked adorable, like a child at Disneyland. She swore his eyes were actually twinkling as the greenery in the room made the color pop against his skin even more than usual.
“This is…incredible,” He said, finally turning back to meet her eyes with his own. “You’re incredible.” He set down his bag of sweaters on the floor by his feet. They could certainly wait.
Something about the praise and the way he was looking at her like she hung the moon was making Y/N absolutely swoon for the man. It was impossible not to notice how much he adored her. He looked at her the same way she looked at Delilah, at all the things she loved. Things. She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually loved a person before. But this man with the holes in his sweaters and the permanent flush in his cheeks was planting himself deep in her heart.
But she’d never let him see that.
“…I make lots of my clothes myself…” She was talking about how she learned to sew from where she was sitting on her couch. Harry noticed that she’d arranged her living room differently than he had. While he had a single gray couch in the middle of the room, her sofa was against the window, inviting the evening sunset to gently warm the pale pink cushions.
“Did ya make those pants you were wearing the other day?” He asked with genuine curiosity, continuing to poke around the plants and knitted blankets and woven fruit baskets that littered the entire space.
Harry turned to face her just in time to catch her flashing a knowing smile. “Yes. Should I make a pair for you as well?”
“Yes, please.”
“I’m sure your ass will look great in them, too.”
“Ah—shut up!” Harry laughed, fiddling with the leaves of one of her hanging plants. He recognized this one.
An easy smile still graced his lips as he murmured “It’s a philodendron,” half to her and half to himself. Now that some of the extensive plant research he’d been doing over the past few days had indeed stuck, it was easy for him to identify by its telltale heart shaped leaves.
Y/N’s eyebrows shot up, “That’s right,” she said, sounding impressed. “She’s called Delilah.”
Harry hummed, unable to focus on words when she was giving him her full attention like that.
“She’d be cute next to Franklin, don’t ya think?” She continued, tiptoeing closer to him. She stood behind him, peering over his shoulder at the plant much like she’d done to Franklin a few days earlier. The fabric of his brown sweater was soft against her fingers as she wrapped her arms around him. Harry tensed. He had longed to do the same thing to her when their positions had been reversed a few days ago, but chickened out. But as always, Y/N’s actions were confident and smooth. The thought of her face against his knit-clad back and the feeling of her soft hands around his middle made his head spin.
Yes, he thought, she’s cute next to everything. She’s fucking adorable…
And again, Harry was struck with the thought that he should have seen this coming. It was such a Y/N move—the way she confidently pressed on his shoulders to sit him on the couch and proceeded to smoothly kneel over his thighs. His heart raced as she sank to his eye level, straddling his lap.
“You’ve got pretty eyes,” Harry said almost absently, as if lost in them. Y/N looked kind of surprised that the words came out of his mouth. She’s sort of confused by him, by the way he makes her feel. He had this nervous, chaotic energy surrounding him, as if his mind was going a mile a minute at all times. It didn’t make any difference to him though—a racing heart didn’t stop him from enjoying the feeling of the insides of her thighs against his.
Y/N suddenly grabbed one of his flushed cheeks in her palm and turned his face to hers, letting him get a good look at her eyes. “Think so?” She grinned with a hint of her customary cockiness.
Harry nodded in response to the playful question, caught up in her smirk. He reckoned it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Once again, she proved him wrong when she licked her lip. She studied him seductively while his own eyes, of course, flicked down to where her tongue was swiping over her lips. Her tongue was pillowy, gentle, and…distracting…In the next instant, she’d pulled his face to hers and met his lips with her own.
Despite having been mentally begging for her to kiss him since the moment they’d met, he was still a little caught off guard. Quickly, he began to relish in the feeling of her warm hand holding his cheek and soft lips pressing tenderly on his. He kissed her back gently, but with urgency—as if he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He let his hands wander slowly from her knees up her thighs, her hips, settling comfortably on her waist. His heart skipped a beat when she pulled back a millimeter.
“Is this okay?” Harry let out a concerned whisper.
Y/N smiled effortlessly and nodded. Of course it was okay, it was better than okay.
“Thought I’d proper fucked up my chance with you ages ago,” he murmured against her lips. Now that he’d gotten a taste of her sweet lips, he was truly a fucking goner.
“I thought so too, frankly,” she laughed fondly at him, “But you reeled me in with your charm and wit...” She shook her head and furrowed her brows sarcastically, “...Your true gift for horticulture, your brilliant sewing skills, your excellent taste in beverages...” she continued lecturing him in between sweet pecks on the lips.
Harry giggled at her mock-compliments, tugging her impossibly closer by the waist. She relaxed her chest into his and easily wrapped her own arms around his neck.
“You’re an absolute pest you know?” Harry teased her, confidence growing as she caressed his skin, “I oughta get a buncha those damn bug stickers to catch you!”
“You sure about that?” She smiled bigger, eyes wide and innocent as sat back on his legs. She continued to feed him sweet words as she trailed her fingers down his sweater, the mock compliments melting into sincere ones. Harry’s own smile grew as she mumbled how she adored his soft hands and blushy cheeks and gentle disposition…
Her words were innocent, but her fingers began tracking a sinful course downward, and he twitched in his sweatpants as she cheekily palmed him through the fabric. He was putty in her hands, reduced to a pile of mush by her eyes that twinkled with playful innocence and mischief and unmistakeable lust. The soft hands and gentle, innocent praises falling from her lips were making his cock bloat and head spin. Just as he was getting into it—moaning and whimpering for her to please don’t stop…she shoved her arms between his body and the couch cushion and delivered a firm squeeze to his ass.
“That’s for calling me a pest, you pest!”
She roared with laughter and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight to her chest.
Harry’s desperate, high pitched whine quickly melted into joyous laughter. He couldn’t help it—she was so lovely and beautiful and playful and cheeky and of course, he should’ve seen a stunt like this coming. She was a pest indeed, but Harry had already decided to love her. Perhaps decided wasn’t the word—no, his love for her sprouted and grew like a strong and beautiful vine holding them together.
“Now how about I make you come for real and then fix the holes in those sweaters like you fixed the holes in my heart?”
And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
thank you for reading <3
talk to me about harry and y/n and franklin and delilah!
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