#i got (very lightly) drunk for the first time with my cousins at a family funeral and i was probably 11 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kira-fluff · 3 years

Note

Heeey!

Saeyoung, Yoosung, Jumin and Zen reacting to to “hotel only one bed” trope ? ♥️

a/n: of course you can lovely! <3 *AHEM* Lemme just say this trope is ELITE and I will NEVER not love it // also, i’m writing it like it’s before they’re dating (OF COURSE) because I want it to be spicy (actually that’s the only thing that would make sense for this prompt but you get my point whatever). ALSO also I’m basing the fancy hotel off my stay at the Ritz Carlton (it was like $25,000 a night) because my grandma couldn’t manage money N E WAYSS. Also, if y’all could let me know whether you prefer Y/N to MC pls lmk k thx

TW: drunk old lady w/no filter, gets pretty suggestive because I couldn’t help myself, an overbearing aunt, savage Italians, and loud hotel neighbor

Note: omfg i accidentally made this so long oh well here’s yo present lmao

“There’s only one bed” PT.1 PT.2

Saeyoung

Getaway missions are mad cool until you can’t sleep

When you finally neared the parking entrance to your hotel you were SO looking forward to taking a nice hot shower before shimming into the covers of your crisp, (clean, you hoped) sheets.

It was past 3AM when Saeyoung finally drove his elegant vehicular device (because what other word is there for it) into a secured parking space

“Because I don’t trust those shady valets, y/n.”

“Whatever you say, Seven”, you replied groggily.

You hauled ass up to the front desk, then to the elevator of the exquisite hotel you were staying at

not that you cared

because S L E E P

but Saeyoung likes to quote Jurassic Park (because of course he does) like “I spare no expense, y/n”

“I’m too tired to laugh”

*gASP*

“Not everyone naturally stays up until the early morning light before going to sleep.”

“It really should become a thing, it’s honestly very iconic of me.” (it’s not)

By the time your conversation ended you were glad to see your hotel number and a little key card slot.

Saeyoung made a show of sticking the key card in like a spy or something

it was funny for normal y/n but not for tired y/n

“Here’s your room, M’lady.”

He held the door open to your room as you looked around the room

a large, lush bed set before a ginormous flat screen TV with complimentary expensive chocolates laid before you as well as complimentary take-home elegant towels and slippers.

suddenly, you heard a knock on the door

blinking in confusion, you opened to see it was Saeyoung

“Um.. hey! What’s up?”

Saeyoung looked a bit bewildered himself before saying,

“Hey, so, I realized my key card was the same room number as yours and I was like ‘That’s weird!’ so I called the front desk who verified that I had placed a reservation for one room, not two, so I hacked into their system to see what went wrong and if I could change it but it looks like they’re completely booked and I think I had made the reservation before I knew that you had to come along and I’m so sorry”

he was breathless after the mouthful he just gave you

As it was 3AM a drunk, old woman was tripping her way to her room and shouted much louder than she should at 3AM, “Kiss her already n’ fuck, ya youngin’s!”

Saeyoung’s hair now matched his face :)

His ears were tipped bright red before coughing awkwardly

“I can sleep on the ground. I’ve done it plenty of times, it’s actually pretty comfy.”

“Um, Sev’ I’m not going to make you just sleep on the floor. If you want--”

“You’re not making me, y/n, I want to do this”

“Actually I think I’ll sleep on the floor, I sleep a lot better on the ground”, you fibbed.

“You’re sleeping on that big ass bed.”

“No you are.”

“If you don’t listen I’ll sleep in the bath tub instead of the floor.”

“Then I’LL sleep outside the room!”

“LIKE HELL YOU WILL!”

“WATCH ME”

the phone rang, a worker politely asking you to quiet a bit down because even with your luxurious privacy walls, guests could still hear you arguing.

Saeyoung began whisper shouting, “Guess that settles it.”

he plopped on the ground, fake snoring with his arm as a pillow

you sighed

“Fine, if neither of us are going to agree to this then we are both going to sleep in this bed.”

Saeyoung blushed lightly at your boldness, a tad worried you’d find him creepy or weird

You started again, beginning to undress a little, causing Seven to yelp in panic and turn around immediately, shielding his eyes,

Now in your tank top and your leggings you’d been wearing under sweatpants and a t-shirt, you said, “I’m gonna go take a quick shower and go to bed. I’m so tired.”

Seven turned around only when he’d heard the bathroom door shut

he sighed, What am I going to do with this girl.

By the time you’d come out of the bathroom, drying your wet hair, Seven was lying on the bed, clad in casual t-shirt and jeans.

“Come on, Saeyoung, you have comfy clothes! It’s okay, change! I’m done in the bathroom now.”

“Nah, this is fine.” This was not fine. Saeyoung was out of his area of expertise of expecting the unexpected because God you were so unpredictable.

“Please” you jutted out your bottom lip in a little pout, being sure to make eye contact with him

Something glowered in his eyes for a split second before he half-smiled saying, “Ah, little Y/n, you know I can’t say no to you when you go all sad on me.”

He stepped into the bathroom to change, but let’s be honest. He was freaking the fuck out.

he covered his flushed face, changing into his soft sweatpants and a cozy sweatshirt. he was scared

the more comfortable he became the more likely he’d accidentally get closer to you and then you’d freak out because you’d hear the sound of his heart beat like it’s a fucking rave concert and then you’d be weirded forever and quite possibly never talk to him again

but on the outside, he stepped out of the bathroom, whipping his phone out with a huge smirk saying, “Smile”

you threw up a peace sign with your tongue sticking out

he laughed before sending it to the RFA chat

707: Sleepover lolol [see attachment]

immediately both your phones blew up with buzzes of notifications from the chat

you laughed lightly, brushing a stray hair from your face to tuck it behind your ear

this was gonna be a long night for Seven.

Zen: UGH get away from her!!!!!!!!!111!!1!!

Jumin: Maybe you should learn to type first.

Zen: shut it cat freak

Zen: seven answer

Zen: hey

Zen: y/n, text “qwerty” if you’re in any kind of danger

Jumin: What a strange code.

You: qwerty :(

707: lololololol

Zen: !!!!!

Zen: ASJDHKJFASHFKJA

Jumin: -_-

Zen: WE NEED A CAR, NO A HELICOPTER im omw!!

You: just kidding <3 i’m fine you guys

707: lololol

Jumin: Have a bit more faith in your subordinates, Zen.

You closed the chat and muted your phone, expecting the incoming argument that was quickly to ensue.

You patted the bed lightly, ushering Saeyoung to lie down next to you.

He obliged, though he politely laid at the far edge of the left side of the bed.

You yawned before shutting the light off and whispering a “good night”.

Saeyoung glanced at the clock. 4AM. Only 15 minutes had passed. You were breathing softly in your sleep within the 10 minutes after you’d said goodnight and here he was still awake.

You suddenly tousled in your sleep, and Saeyoung raised his head, whispering a soft, “Did I wake you up?”

You replied with a soft moan before abruptly turning left onto his corner of the bed and grabbing for the first thing you’d felt -- his torso.

Saeyoung’s breath hitched as he felt you exploring the new found “object”, running your fingers up and down his torso and nearing dangerous areas below

Saeyoung whisper-shouted, “What are you doing?”

He leaned closer to hear your reply, but your only answer was more soft little snores

Saeyoung sighed, trying to lightly grab your wrists without waking you up, and directing toward yourself

no matter how hard he’d try, your arms kept finding his own

your nails would softly ghost over his chest or neck, causing him to shiver and blush profusely

again, he sighed, trying his hardest not to give into your sleepy state

until you broke him with a soft utterance, “Sae....young..”

Saeyoung’s eyes widened to the size of saucers before he dared to look down at you, your hair curling on the bed every which-way.. your mouth slightly agap...

he groaned, his brows furrowed and his eyes shut

at last he slunk his arms around your torso, being sure to respectfully keep them high around your waist

he buried his face in the crook of your neck to subconsciously try to hide his ever growing blush (and erection)

I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this ‘friend’ thing when you’re driving me this crazy, y/n.

You awoke to a sleeping Saeyoung, his toned arms enveloping your small body in a hug

shamelessly, you laid still for a few moments longer.

Yoosung

this bean is lonely uwu

so when he’d invited to you go with him on a trip his uncle had paid for, you felt bad saying “yes” because it’s a paid trip!!

until he begged you because his cousin Chaewon would be there and he was always really pushy and borderline a huge fuck boi

so you conceded

but hey free trip for the both of you minus shitty family gatherings with no one you know, right?!

you hope there’s at least one dog. and alcohol.

dog + alcohol at a party = an actual fun fucking time

you were glad Yoosung was there with you because he honestly couldn’t agree with you more

You opened your beach-side resort room to find there’s only one bed.

Yoosung blanched and quickly dialed his auntie, who’d made the resort reservations

“Ah...hi auntie! Um, how come there isn’t a separate room for me and y/n?”

his aunt cackled into the phone, “Aren’t you an old fashioned little gentlemen!!! Awe~~~ you’ve grown up to be such a good boy! <3 Well don’t worry, I won’t say a word to my sister or your pops. Enjoy the time you have with your adorable girlfriend and get it on a little!! I’ve got condoms if ya need ‘em honey~~ Remember dearie, when the shlong is not covered, the child support better be.”

Yoosung hurriedly hung up the phone, his face completely red, praying you hadn’t heard the conversation that’d just ensued.

You did

but you smile and say, “So.. what’d they say?”

He cleared his throat before saying, “Well, --err.. Basically there’s been a little mishap. B-but don’t worry!! I can just ask Chaewon if I can spend the night in his room.”

“Didn’t you say he leaves a sock on the door handle every time--”

“YES but I want you to be comfortable, okay! It’s really not a big deal.”

You shyly smiled while looking down before softly saying, “You can sleep with me.”

Yoosung’s eyes widened and you quickly looked up, your face flushing to a deep crimson

“I-I-I meant in the bed!!! With me. We can lie together. In the bed---- I mean we--”

Yoosung could practically see the steam coming out of your ears and the room felt a LOT hotter

“S-sure! Sounds great.” he had a feeling if you didn’t agree you’d end up embarrassing yourself further.. and he didn’t want you to feel bad. And he didn’t want those thoughts circulating his mind again.

“Alright, so I’m going to hop in the shower, y/n... unless you want to go first?”

Gulping down some complimentary water you’d found in the hotel mini fridge, you quickly replied with a shake of your head.

Nodding, Yoosung make quick work of washing his hair and trying to give himself a pep talk before he would be sleeping next to you.

Thankful for the big size of the resort bed, you climbed under the covers, already beginning to feel sleep take you

When Yoosung had at last dried himself off and walked out to the bed area of the resort room, he gazed at how small you looked, hugging a soft pillow in your arms, your eyes fluttered shut

He looked away, feeling like a creep.

He shut off the light after making a call to the resort staff to wake him up at 8AM as directed by his uncle’s itinerary

He slid under the covers, shoving a pillow in between the two of you as a little border to separate the two of you

it wasn’t until further in the night when Yoosung had felt a jolt and he looked up in panic, through the blackness recognizing the pillow-border had been cast onto the ground

and even more noticeably, your leg was swung over his hip, your body flush to his own

your arms were snaked around his neck

he felt like he could feel every inch of you

your soft breath just below his ear

your soft .. er.. chest... against his torso

your stomach and .. the rest of it... against his own

Yoosung could not breathe

like someone actually help this man for he is losing oxygen by the minute

He squeezed his eyes shut and make the executive decision to wait it out til morning

he was terrified that if he’d move you, you’d wake up and see just how much you affect him.

And so, when the phone rang that morning, you’d startled, looking up to see your tangled limbs lying on top of his own

“oH MY GOD I’M SO SORRY YOOSUNG UGH IT’S A HABIT OF MINE AHAHHSAHDAJSHS”

he looked at you with eyes that had noticeable circles under them (darker than even after his LOLOL gaming)

“you look like you didn’t sleep much.... --- Is it because of me!? Oh my god I’m so sorry you should’ve just shoved me off or something seriously I didn’t mean to do it on purpose, honest!!”

“N-no, no it’s really not!! I promise!!” He tried his best to grin, though it probably looked like a grimace, because the next thing you said was, “I’ll make it up to you”

“You don’t need to do that. Really, I liked it.”

It took a moment for him to realize what he just said.

“I-I mean I like you! I mean I liked sleeping with you!!! I mean--!!”

Yoosung was quickly spinning circles in his mind

you couldn’t help the little giggle that came out of your mouth, “I guess we’re pretty similar, huh?”

Yoosung smiled lightly, “Yeah, guess so.”

You walked out together toward the breakfast area of the resort

“Hey”, you started, “Is.. Did you mean what you said? About liking me?”

Yoosung glanced away, taking a deep breath before saying, “Yeah, yeah I did. I really like you.”

You couldn’t hold back the big ol’ smile that took over your face as you proudly declared, “Me too!!”

Right when Yoosung was going to go in for a kiss, he saw his auntie suddenly right next to the both of you

“Oh my GOD when did you get here?!”

She smirked, “My question first, dearie, what did you two like?”

Neither of you answered, your cheeks growing red

“You know, the first time your uncle did it with me I felt the same way. Like, what a man! Must run in the fam--”

“OKAY! THANK YOU FOR THAT AUNTIE BUT BREAKFAST IS CALLING MY NAME MM SMELLS GOOD SEE YOU LATER.”

Your blush didn’t leave you as you smeared strawberry cream cheese on your toasted bagel

This trip was going to be very VERY difficult. Thank God there was alcohol. And Yoosung. And probably dogs. And Yoosung.

Yeah.

Gotta love relatives.

Jumin

You received a call from a stern voice you didn’t recognize

<<“Hello. This is Mr. Han’s chauffeur. I’m approximately 6.3 miles away from your residence. Do not worry about clothes or other necessities. All will be provided for you.”>>

“Uh.. thanks? Where....?”

<<“Mr. Han has invited you to join him on his stay at the Ppalgan Vineyard Estates. Have you not received the notification?”>>

You glanced at your phone, seeing two unread messages on your phone.

You read them, feeling bad you hadn’t seen them before.

“Yes, yes of course. Thank you. Tell him I said thank you. Are you sure it’s okay for me to attend?”

<<“Miss Y/L/N, Mr. Han gave me specific instructions to assure you would be able to come with him. I have been ordered to give 2 minute updates following your being picked up. I can assure you, it is his utmost wish that you join him this weekend. I’d be honored to thank him on your behalf, though I feel it would mean much more to him if you said it to him rather than me.” >>

“You’re right, thank you. And thanks for driving me. And for all the other stuff you said”, you replied nervously.

<<”There is no need to thank me, Miss. I am glad to serve Mr. Han in anyway I can.”>>

The call hung up before you could spout out more thank yous

you phone buzzed, startling you.

you clicked the notification

<<(XXX-XXX-XXXX HAN COMPANIES) I’ve arrived at your residence. Let me know if there is anything I can carry for you. Sent 13:52>>

You quickly texted a reply of gratitude before rushing down the stairs out of your apartment, not wanting to make Jumin’s chauffeur wait.

“Good to see you Miss Y/L/N. Is there anything I can get you? I have been given orders to purchase anything you may want or need on our way to the airport.”

He quickly texted something on his phone, presumably a text to Jumin about your safe arrival to his limo.

“A-airport? You mean, like, flying? Are you sure I don’t need my wallet? It’s not too late for me to go grab it, right? I have my debit card on my phone too, otherwise.”

“Miss Y/L/N you are not to spent a single won on this vacation. All is paid for.”

“But my clothes... I don’t want Jumin to have to pay for all new things!!”

"I assure you, money is not something Mr. Han wishes for you to be concerned with.”

You’d stayed silent at that, feeling bad that you’d already bothered the poor man who’d just been ordered to drive you, not reassure you of Jumin’s financial affairs.

You grew quiet, looking out the window as trees, streets, and cars zoomed past you.

“If you so wish, there are numerous meals options in the compartments below the seats as well as alcohol, carbonated beverages and iced water glasses. You are, of course, welcome to any of these. Please do not hesitate to notify me if there is something you’d like instead. We’d glad to make it a regular option in all of our limousines.”

You flushed, embarrassed at the amount of power Jumin’s words, and effectively, your own seemed to have on the entire Han Conglomerate as a whole. You laughed a little, it was funny thinking to yourself that you had so much power as to decide snack options for Jumin’s cars.

Jumin was extra like that, he always went above and beyond to make you comfortable. You loved that about him. It made you feel a little spoiled, so you instinctively rejected most offers at things that seemed to further complicate his worker’s duties.

You had no idea that when the chauffeur had said airport he meant the Han Private Airway Transportation Zone.

As in... private jet.

It was hard not to feel like you were in a whole different world.

Not that Jumin treated you that way... but it was hard not to notice!

You bowed in thanks to the driver before hastily finding your way to the nearest man standing in another black suit, his hands folded together in front of him.

As soon as you uttered your name, his whole demeanor changed and he instantly had gone from cool and collected to humble and overwhelmingly kind.

He’d quickly made his way to the boarding area, escorting you to the jet before leaving you at a polite distance way from Jumin who’d been looking at you from the moment you’d entered the aircraft.

His eyes searched your own as you’d yet to discover his presence

He couldn’t help but rake his eyes up and down your body, admiring the way you could look just in anything.

He at last saw you searching the spacious cabin, at last laying eyes on him.

His heart pounded faster, as if your noticing him made his heart leap in joy

You looked relieved and smiled, running over to him and sitting down next to him

“Hi Jumin!! Oh, should I be calling you Mr. Han? That’s what your chauffeur called you.. sorry if that’s what I should’ve been addressing you as!!”

His deep voice rumbled in your ear, causing you to shudder, “Jumin is fine.”

You gazed up at him through your lashes, noticing the way his perfectly tailored vest made him look so... well... for lack of better word...hot.

“Wow. You look...” Your eyes moved from his hair, to his face, to his neck, to his torso, slowly to his groin, to his legs... before you realized what you’d been doing and quickly your eyes shot up again.

You bit your lip, “You look nice.”

“Nice?”

You laughed shyly, and slightly (embarrassingly) breathless, “Yeah. Yeah you do. Nice.”

Jumin couldn’t help the sly smile he’d been holding back before replying, “You look beautiful.”

You flushed and looked down, squirming in your seat a little before looking at him once more, offering a small, “..thank you..”

After a few minutes of silence, you’d decided to change the subject, chattering on about how you wondered what this mysterious vacation would hold

Jumin couldn’t help is concentration half on every word you were saying, but also your lips. Slowly licking his own, he nodded along when you’d gotten especially enthusiastic, grinning slightly when you’d gotten so excited you’d leapt out of your luxury seat.

Within a half hour of the trip to your destination in Italy, Jumin had trouble concentrating on much else.

Get it together, Jumin, you’re not some fool like Zen.

It’d gotten worse the more you’d leaned further in your seat, your chest becoming slightly exposed

he covered his mouth with a hand, opting for looking out one of the many windows of the jet.

You’d always caught his attention and made him lose his focus -- something he’d never lost before he met you

He blamed the strawberry sent that you’d always carried with you

He wasn’t much for expensive, faux perfume that so many of his father’s skanks would wear... it was like no other.

After a few hours of grueling torture on your part (though you hadn’t know every single time you’d grabbed his hand or arm it’d sent his heart on a sky dive) Jumin was glad to have arrived in the gorgeous Italian acreage of the countryside.

It was even more beautiful at the dusk of night, you’d decided

Immediately a shiny vehicle pulled up, ready to transport you and Jumin to the estate you were to be residing in for the weekend.

Upon pulling into the culdesac, you almost scoffed at the word “estate” -- it was more of a country in and of itself, land stretched beyond what you could see

The mansion itself stood on pillars and high, Gothic windows.

Inside, flying buttresses decorated the building, giving it an elegant and aged ambiance that you just adored

“It’s so beautiful.”

He smiled at you then, watching you take in the wonders he’d realized he took for granted.

He was then directed to a double-door entrance way, “Your room, Mr. Han, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Separate, correct?”

The man stood in surprise, looking slightly aghast, “T-they never specified such details.”

“Contact them immediately to confirm. I’ll work it out from there.”

“Yes, Mr. Han.” From there, the man scurried away to contact the head of the estate.

After a few moments, he returned, “The Rossi Conglomerate had assumed that you’d brought your fiance with you.”

“Did you mention I don’t have one?”

“Y-yes, of course! But, Mr. Han, your father--”

Jumin sighed, “I’ll take care of it.” with a wave of his hand, the man was gone

You thanked him on his way out.

Jumin looked at you, searching for a reaction of displeasure or worry

When he didn’t find one, he began, “I was notified the Rossi had booked their other estates to their American investors. My being here is a formality, but it is business. It would be a great discourtesy to demand--”

You smiled reassuringly, “Jumin, don’t worry about it.. we’ll share the bed, okay?” You held your hand in his own, rubbing soothing circles on his knuckles.

Jumin looked at you, choking on his spit slightly.

“Y/N you do understand that--”

“It’s fine, Jumin!! It’s late already, I’ll just put up my hair.. and.. do you know where the night clothes would be?”

He watched as you fixed a bobby pin between your teeth before running your fingers through your hair, watching as you arched your back to--

“Jumin? ...you don’t know?”

He cleared his throat, looking away, pink dusting his cheeks

“Bathroom.”

You thanked him, unaware of his watchful eyes

It had been a few seconds since you’d entered the bathroom before he heard a loud and alarmed, “..UM....JUMIN...?!”

He’d quickly made his way into the bathroom

“What’s wro--”

He looked and laying on the long granite island of the large bathroom was a silky set of lingerie as well as a note in Italian you couldn’t read.

Jumin’s words stopped dead on his lips as he stared at you, then the silky underwear set, you, silky underwear, you.......silky underwear.

On the outside, Jumin liked to think he came off as calm and collected, saying, “I can get you something else to wear.”

But when he’d made it two steps out of the bathroom he had a little collision. And by collision, I mean his face.. and the wall.

He looked in every drawer, finding nothing. He presumed clothes would be delivered as specified. But it was late already.. their servants are dismissed, only the protective guards surrounded the inside and outside of the estate.. explaining the situation to them didn’t seem very promising.

Of course you were kicking yourself, before you’d found their little....gift... you’d cast your days clothes into the washer. They were probably soaked by now.

Maybe I could use a hair dryer...? Or I could stuff them in the dryer??

Either way you’d be without clothes for.. too long.

And nothing would be greater punishment then showing all that in front of the man you had completely fallen for...

You heard a knock on the bathroom door. You listened from inside.

“Hey, I, uh, couldn’t find anything. Do you think you could wear your clothes from today?”

You whimpered, on the verge of tears, “I already put it in the washer!”

He knocked again, “Can I hand you something?”, he asked, undoing the buttons of his formal shirt.

“C-close your eyes!”

Jumin chuckled darkly before covering his eyes and handing her his collared shirt

“I’d give you the pants, too, but I don’t think they’d really fit you. Could you look at what they’d provided for me? Maybe slip on something from mine.”

“N-no! That’d be even worse for me!! .. and you!” You blushed again imagining him half naked

You hurriedly shuffled through the drawers, but to no avail.

You gulped, slipping on the lingerie to ensure that maybe something would be covered before buttoning Jumin’s formal shirt on you as well.

it was so big it didn’t leave much for the imagination

but you decided through a 10 minute pep talk that you’d suck it up and try your best to make his shirt into a night gown.

You at last stepped out of the bathroom, Jumin’s head shooting toward the sudden noise before taking you in

He could scarcely breathe, much less come up with a coherent sentence

you were in his shirt...

with barely any clothes on underneath

and you looked up at him shyly, biting your lip a little

drawing even more attention to your lips

Jumin had to stifle a groan, opting to head to the bathroom to change

After splashing some cold water on his face in a poor attempt to get his head out of the gutter, he quickly got on his pjs

after you both were ready for bed, Jumin sat on the bed, opening a small novel he’d been enjoying, Anthem.

His attention was immediately diverted from the dystopian fiction when he saw you were stretching

His shirt rode up high as he took in the way the lingerie perfect accentuated your curves, though it didn’t cover much below the waist

Noticing your folly, your eyes widened in shock before you immediately put your hands down

which, just your luck, made it all worse.

the sudden movement disheveled the shirt, causing it to ride down completely on one side, openly displaying the soft brassiere beneath it

Jumin slammed his book so hard it left an echo in the large room.

Great. He couldn’t even make it look like his book was suddenly unbelievably interesting that he just so happened to not take notice of the obvious sight before him.

You blanched, feeling a breeze along your shoulder, gasping before running to your side of the bed and pretending you don’t exist anymore

Meanwhile Jumin is in a c r i s i s

In the most eloquent of words, his mind said holy fucking motherfucking shit oh my God fuck fuck fuck AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH oh my god shit shit shit fuck shit sdfasodjgiajsidogjosdg MALFUNCTION!! WARNING!!!! RUN BITCH!!!

But Jumin didn’t run

because mama ain’t raise no bitch

but also because if he stood up it would be blatantly obvious that he had--

Stop thinking about it, Jumin.

He tried to redirect his mind to his 5 senses, a grounding technique he’d learned when he got too anxious when he was younger

But sight seemed to dominate it as his mind replayed your facial expressions, the way your hands awkwardly tried to cover yourself up, the way you looked the way he’d take it all off---

Oh God. I’m deep in shit.

He had never been so pissed at himself... and embarrassed.

He looked over at you, a horrible decision, really.

You were still awake, your face was redder than the strawberry sent that adorned you

“s-sorry..” you whispered, willing yourself to try to forget, “pretend that never happened..”

Jumin was practically feral and you were saying it never happened?

Jumin couldn’t just pretend he didn’t just see a fucking goddess

but he would for you

“..........pretend what never happened?”

You sighed, a small smile on your face as you quickly turned to thank him

but he was a LOT closer than you imagined

he was propped up on one elbow, looking down at you, his head slightly angled.

And suddenly your faces weren’t so far apart.

And you couldn’t help but slowly close your eyes

Jumin felt confusion when you’d done this

he can be a bit of a pea brain, so he of course said, “I’m sure you’re very tired.”

He shut off the light, reaching over you

You held back the big frown you’d gotten when you realized he’d rejected you

unbeknownst to you that it took everything in him, from the moment he’d saw you in the jet cabin, not to scoop you up in his arms and make out with you the whole way there.

Zen

Was Zen going to invite you to his own fucking tour?

Of course he was

he liked flexing his connections

and most of all, showing you just how much he cared about you

and loved you

but not the love part because God if you ever found out Zen might jump into the nearest body of water and never return

not that he didn’t have any confidence

he has lots of it

but it all kind of disintegrates when he gets to talking about his real feelings

But come on, it was blatantly obvious to anyone who had heckin eyes

or ears

or just any functioning body

the way he’d try to subtly throw an arm over your shoulder

or he’d lean in whenever you spoke

or the way he’d readjust his posture when you walked into a room

or the way everyone caught him staring

like anytime you weren’t looking

or when you are looking because he is “built different”

So the limo ride to the fancy hotel he was to stay at was something that had him looking forward to the tour, but also dreading it

you’d sat close to him in the limo because his agent and other workers were sitting along with him.

So close that your ass got pushed further and further onto his lap

because damn where the fuck are we and why are there so many goddamn potholes

Zen tried to steady you by firmly grabbing your hips

which was NOT the move

because now that you were firmly set on his lap, every bump felt like a fucking war against his hormones.

Like a gentleman, he quickly opted to seat you next to him, not wanting you to feel embarrassed

still, he could feel you being pulled closer to him with every long turn the limo made or every bump or abrupt stop

and it was torture.

like this man is sweating

but by some miracle you arrive at the hotel in one piece! Yay!

but Zen’s soul has left his body~~

so you get set up

You open the room, “Look, Zen! This bed is HUGE!!”, you ran over to it and plopped your face onto the sheets

He chuckled, watching you act like a little kid excited about a hotel for the first time

his brows furrowed when he realized there was no door separator between your rooms

He immediately called the front desk

all you could over hear was “No, there seems to be some kind of mistake”

and “I reserved two rooms -- conjoined”

“Alright, ok. Thanks.” and then he hung up.

“So..” he sighed, “They can’t get another room because they’re completely booked. Someone must’ve recognized the limo and lots of fans immediately bought up all the rooms in hopes of seeing me.”

“It’s alright Zen! I can ask to switch with your agent or something!!”

“NO!” Zen said a little too loudly. “No. Um, look it would be bad because he’s a man.”

“Your a dude, too, Zen.”

“I-- yeah, but that’s different because I’m a guy you can trust.”

“True..”

“So I’ll sleep on the couch, ‘kay?”

“Zen, no! You need your beauty sleep to be ready for your performance tomorrow!!!”

“It’s alright, really!”

“I’ll sleep on the couch!”

“Like hell you will.”

“Please :(”

“Y/N, seriously--”

“Then how about this! You and I just sleep in the same bed!”

Ever the dramatic soul, Zen gasped with his palm over his heart “How SCANDALOUS!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be Mr. Playboy?”

“Only for you, baby”, he winked.

You stuttered, “T-that’s not funny! Seriously don’t make it weird you horn- dog!”

He threw his head back in laughter, “Horn-dog?! I thought you said you trusted me!”

“Not when you’re obviously thinking about doing this and that to me!!”

“Doing this and tha---Hey! Who do you think I am?!”

There was suddenly a loud bang on the wall and a burly man shouted, “GO TO FUCKIN’ SLEEP YOU OBNOXIOUS, SEXUALLY FRUSTRATED LITTLE SHITS!”

You smirked, holding in a laugh saying, “Sounds like your fans are getting jealous.”

Zen’s mouth dropped and you began laughing hysterically

“T-that was like a 60 year old man!”

“I’M 42 YOU LITTLE SHIT”

You fell back on the bed, laughing louder

Zen shouted back, “WELL EXCUSE ME, SEXY, 42 YEAR OLD MAN”

There was silence before a harsh knock sounded at your door

All Zen’s bravado disintegrated and he made a dash for the bed, whispering loudly for you to “Turn off the fuckin’ lights, turn off the fuckin’ lights!”

You stifled more giggles rising up to your throat as you clicked off the light, making sure the room was locked, and climbed into bed

you breathed out your last laughs, sighing to yourself contentedly before noticing the close proximity you were to Zen

You stared at each other for a long moment

You leaned in closer

Zen placed a palm on your cheek, gently cupping it

he softly whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

You answered by harshly connecting your lips

The two of you feeding off each other’s oxygen as Zen bit your lip, causing you to gasp and open your mouth to make way for his tongue

you whimpered, feeling faint from lack of oxygen

the two of you parted, out of breath

Zen wanted to say something smooth like “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

but instead he said “I’ve always wanted to do you.”

He mentally smacked his head, blaming the lack of oxygen for his stupidity

But you smirked up at him coyly, replying, “Then why don’t you?”

Um yeah rip your hotel neighbor he will literally hate both of you so much

I had honestly SO MUCH FUN writing this!! Let me know if you want, like, a part two to this. I think I’d just be so fun lol

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alreadyblondenow · 3 years

Photo

Easy come, easy go

“I’m saying, we’re not going to be okay when we’re apart. I’m not sure if I could give the same efforts you’re about to offer in the future,”

Pairing: Jeno x female!reader Genre: SMUT, FLUFF, ANGST. Enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, summer love WC: 3,038k Warnings: female reader wears lipstick, jeno putting on lipstick to you, swearing, mentions of parties and one beer, but no alcohol consumption, high school graduates so it the summer before college starts. Unprotected sex, mentions of making out, breakup, couch sex, mentions of other idols. A/N: I’m in a jeno mood for days already now ughs

It all started this summer, where your cousin Haechan introduced you to some of his friends to somehow help you make new friends over the summer. Having new friends is nice of course, who wouldn't want that. But meeting Lee Jeno and being nice to him was the worst decision you made so far. He was annoying, rude, has poor eyesight and seriously you don't understand why girls go crazy over him. It's like he is this walking nightmare the whole summer that you try to avoid at all costs but you just can't because he and Haechan are best friends.

"The guy likes you. Jeno is not usually "rude" to girls, in fact, he's good with girls. So just have more patience with him," Haechan explains after you rant your heart out during a house party. "Fix your lipstick its smudge- I'll go get you a beer, wait here" and so you did, you took out your phone and your lipstick, trying to re-apply it under the dim lights and neon lights, then suddenly someone bumped your shoulder so hard and spilled their drink on your thin blouse.

It was Jeno. And instead of saying sorry he let out a small laugh and pretended that he didn't do it on purpose. "You look like a clown- uh, your lips... here let me get that for you-"

"Fuck you. Don't touch me," you said sternly and walked away. Leaving Jeno completely speechless and worried because he really did fucked up this time.

You looked for the nearest bathroom and wash away the beer from your blouse but it's useless. The beer stained already it's so obvious, not to mention your face is a mess and Jeno was right you look like a clown because you didn't notice you put on too much lipstick earlier. "Fuck" you murmured and got a tissue to wipe away your ruined makeup.

"Y/n, it's Jeno uhm... Can you please open the door so we could talk, and I could apologize sincerely" he rests his head on the door while holding on to the knob, waiting for you to open it. Thankfully, you did but not because you're being soft this time, you only opened the door because sooner or later you have to deal with him and you rather talk to him in private.

"What?" you asked without meeting his eyes and trying to re-apply your lipstick again but this time you're sure you'll get it right.

"I really didn't mean it earlier. I have poor eyesight and as you can see I don't have glasses right now, so that's why... I'm really sorry." he explained, short but you know it's the truth. He wouldn't come and find you if he didn't want to apologize.

"Apology accepted," you leaned on the mirror and continue to what you're doing but to your surprise, he came closer, grabbed you by the waist gently, and took the lipstick out of your hand.

"Turn towards me," you do as you're told, he then lifted your head, and then you watch him put a little pigment on his middle finger, just enough for your lips and just how you like it. Is he really this good with girls that he even knew how to apply lipstick? "Part you lips," he requests.

But it was a request that made the atmosphere a little warmer and it both made your hearts beat so fast.

Gently then he dabs his finger lightly on your lips, carefully putting enough color into it and careful not to ruin it again for the second time. And when he's done, you simply locked eyes and that's when you saw that he does like you.

Then he kissed you and stopped the world for you. Everything turned silent even though the party music outside the bathroom was blaring and everyone seems to be shouting. It was a quick kiss but it felt so good and right at the same time that Jeno asked for more and wanted to deepen the kiss but you stopped him.

"Okay okay. I understand now," you giggle and erased the pigment on his lips with your thumb. "Let's take it slow," you said and smiled at him but the man who's smiling so big in front of you reached out for the doorknob and locked it. You would be lying if you say you don't want him to kiss you again.

A few days after the kiss, Jeno didn't stop teasing you in front of his friends but it got lessen. A few days later, the little crush grew and grew until Jeno decided he really wanted to try and make things work with you. He can be so annoying to the point that you wanted to punch him, but you know that he's serious when it comes to his feelings. Jeno can be a real asshole sometimes, but the man knew how to make you happy and smile privately.

After the first month of summer, you and Jeno had the time of your lives and spend your precious time together privately. Night swimming in his house, sneaking out to make out during parties with friends, you visiting him during his work and wait for him until its closing time. The first month was beautiful and you didn't expect you would have a great time with someone you used to hate. Even though you hide what relationship you have from everyone, you and Jeno love the privacy and to be honest you don't care if he doesn't flex you to everyone. The man loves you and that's what's important.

“Welcome, beautiful”

Jeno said with a big and teasing smile as you enter the coffee shop his family owns and where he usually works whenever he’s free. “You here to see me? I knew it, you always had a crush on me” he teases further.

“No dumbass, I’m here to buy Haechan a cake,” you said, scanning the displayed cakes and avoiding to look at Jeno’s handsome smile. “I’ll take the birthday cake, and three candles please”

You watch Jeno put the cake and secure it in a box, with the three candles as requested. Giving it to you before he accepts your payment, "You're really not here for me? While I think about you every second of the day?" he pouts and crossed his arms.

"Oh you're annoying, see you tonight" you rolled your eyes but left a smile before you leave him.

Tonight is Haechan's birthday and everyone at home was busy preparing for the party including you. It's a sleepover, only Haechan's closest friends and a few family members were invited that's why you're lucky you get to sleep with Jeno tonight, you just have to plan out how you can sneak out without the others seeing you.

As the party started and guests started arriving, you and Jeno barely talked to each other because you were busy talking to your relatives. But he never let you out of his sight, he was watching you from afar and listing the names of the guys who talk to you tonight in his head. And when all family members came home and everyone who stayed are all drunk and sleeping, you went downstairs to where Jeno is sleeping and brought him a pillow and a blanket.

"Thought you forgot about me already, hi" he waited for you on the couch while he's laying comfortably there with all the lights turned off and only the light from the swimming pool illuminates the room.

"Don't you want to sleep somewhere comfortable?" you whisper and sat on top of him, legs on both of his sides.

"Now that you're on top of me, this is my definition of comfort" he smiled so sweetly and reached for your face to cup it and kiss you. "Let's sleep here tonight," he whispered and pulled your body closer to him. Lips moving, tongue swirling on each other while your hands are intertwined. Letting yourselves enjoy this quiet night for this busy day kept you both apart from each other for so long.

"Jaemin was too friendly with you earlier,"

"I didn't notice- wait, you were watching me the whole time?" you whispered back.

"Of course I'm watching you,"

"Well if we go out in public he wouldn't be so clueless, and you wouldn't end up hating your friend"

"I like the privacy we have. Plus do you realize how much teasing we'd get from Haechan?" you agreed to him and placed your head on top of his chest to listen to his heartbeat. "You know when I first saw you my heart beat so fast that I ended up being rude to you instead of acting cute," you feel the vibrations of his giggle and hear him well. It was just a few words, a sincere gesture and, a little honesty but it made you feel something deep inside that made you confess your love to him.

"I love you. I know it's too early to say it, but there I said. I love you," you hide your face on the side of his neck and feel him soothe your back.

"I was planning to say it first, that's not fair. But, me too. I love you too." he searched for your eyes and flashed a handsome smile at you. Tracing your lips as he remembers the first night he kissed you for the first time. Then you came closer to him for a kiss but the moment heated in no time and the next thing you know you're pulling down Jeno's shorts and palm his big cock through his boxers briefs.

He let out guttural sounds, proof that he's loving the pleasure but careful enough not to be heard so you kissed him and caught all his moans as you continue to work on his cock and eventually started grinding on top of him.

"Are we really having our first on a couch?" he whispered in between kissing, hands started to undo the buttons from your sleepwear. Finally exposing yourself to him, "beautiful as always," he murmured but you rolled your eyes on him, making you both giggle quietly. You removed his shirt and proceed to kiss his very hot body, kissing him on the neck, his collar bones, abs, and most importantly, his sensitive nipples that made him part his lips when your tongue made contact with it. "You're going to be the death of me," he said and slipped his hand inside your thin shorts to palm your ass. You then took initiative, to remove your shorts and throw it on the floor. Now that you're both only in your underwear it made you even more excited.

Slowly Jeno let his hand wander around your body, touching your boobs for the very first time and brushing his fingers oh so softly on your nipples and make them hard just like what you did to his. Until you intentionally came closer to him so you're boobs are near his face and did not hesitate to suck it until both of your nipples are swollen.

"When was the last time you had sex?" he whispered beside your ear and the way he asked you just made you breathe in deeply and let out a small moan.

"Let's just say that it's been too long that you will think you're fucking a virgin,"

"It's going to be a long night then," he said and immediately put two fingers inside you which made you hold onto his shoulder and grind on his fingers. "You were right," Jeno felt how tight you were and became more excited that he moved his finger deeper and curled them, massaging your tight walls and watching you enjoy the pleasure that he give you while you're on top of him.

Then he removed it and you let out a heavy sigh because of frustration, you were so wet by this time and you see his boxers briefs stained with your pussy juices and you swear, you wanted to get mad at him but now is not the time. "Put your fingers back in please,"

“You were so close to cumming, don't you want to cum on my dick instead?" he asked you, pulling his hard cock from his boxers briefs and reaching for your hand for you to palm it and feel how big he is. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you look at how big he is and you knew right then and there that he will feel good. So you position yourself comfortably on top of him, touching yourself for a few seconds before you let him line his cock on your hole.

"Just go slow," he said before you sink down and take him whole. Lips parting and eyebrows furrowing as you take him and let his big cock stretch you out. And when it's finally in, you breathe in and out heavily before you move your hips and make you both feel good.

"Oh fuck" he croaked and place his hands on your waist pulling you closer to him so he could keep you close. "Go slower," he whispered beside your ear then watch your pussy swallow his dick. The sight of it just made him want to fuck you hard tonight, break you and make you scream but he can't.

From the tip of his cock right to his balls, you were that deep that you were both losing your minds at that very moment. His hands roam around your body but it mostly stays on your ass, caressing your butt cheeks and teasing your butthole for a few times so you clench around him. "That's cheating," you joke and kissed him.

He pulled you in for a hug and focused on how you fuck him. Yes, fuck him. And this time a little faster and deeper that he's already on edge and making faces already. Faces that he does whenever he's about to have a mind blowing orgasm that he rarely gets. "K-keep fucking me like that," he said with deep groans, one arm around your waist and one arm reaches for your clit.

"Baby, you don't have to do that- fuck that feels good, mmm" his fingers were enough to make you crazy that you ended up fucking him faster, that the couch creaks already and anyone who is awake can definitely tell you're fucking on the couch.

And when the most awaited moment comes, he pushed you away so he could pull out and pump his cock and let his cum land on his stomach. With heavy breaths and a weak body, Jeno looked at you so lovingly at the other side of the couch. Reaching for his shirt to clean his cum so you could go back to your comfort on top of him.

"I'm sorry you didn't cum,” he said softly, sitting up to reach for you and kiss your shoulders as you busy yourself to wear your panties and sleepwear again. Jeno did the same before you two squeeze your bodies on the small couch. Laying bodies to bodies, sharing one blanket and keeping each other close the whole night.

And when the morning comes, you woke up alone on the couch with the blanket perfectly covering your body from the morning breeze.

Days after that fateful night, you and Jeno find ways to have sex whenever you can and enjoy the second month of summer together doing the things you want to do together, going on places and making unforgettable memories. But just as your relationship was going well, you didn’t expect it to fall right before your eyes.

While you were walking hand in hand on the street just after he ends his shift at the cafe and promised to walk you home, you were reminded of the following things you have to deal with just before this summer ends. And because you’re preparing for your college move-in next month, you mentioned it to Jeno for the first time with excited eyes and high pitched tones. “Am I boring you? Sorry, I was just excited” you said. And then he stopped walking.

“I’m not good with long distance. I love you but I know myself, I could end up cheating and hurting you-“

“Where is this coming from? What are you saying? What are you implying?” you asked, question after question because you have no idea why he’s acting like this. You didn’t expect that your excitement for your college dorms will spark something that will ruin your day.

“I’m saying, we’re not going to be okay when we’re apart. I’m not sure if I could give the same efforts you’re about to offer in the future,” he avoided eye contact and clenched his jaw. You’ve never seen him cold like this before.

“So in other words you’re telling me that eventually, we will break up? You just can’t say it to my face because you’re a coward who would rather give up than try the whole long distance shit first?”

Unfortunately, he nodded. And you don’t know why you’re still holding his hand so let him go and walked away.

“Y/n- fuck,” he followed you and tried stopping you, “let's not do this tonight please, it's so sudden,”

You closed your eyes and tried so hard not to cry in front of him. He just kept on saying the wrong words and it's breaking your heart.

“I would rather accept this sudden situation than let you hurt me slowly on the following days.” you shook your head and show him your disappointment. And what hurts you the most is he didn’t even tried to fight for you, or say he's sorry or admit that he’s wrong. He just let you walk away and throw everything that you built tonight.

A few days after your break up, Jeno regrets everything he did that he even tried reaching out to you and Haechan. But he was too late. You left because you can’t stay there and wait for him to chose you again, only to have the same answers that you get on the night you broke up.

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nationalharryleague · 3 years

Text

Christmas in Holmes Chapel

Pairing: Harry Styles x Y/N

Genre: Christmas fluff on top of Christmas fluff

Word count: 1.7K

A/N: Hi everyone! This is something I wrote super quick because I was in the Christmas spirit! I was/am also quite drunk (so be nice)!! More of my better writing can be found in my masterlist and I would love to hear what you think ab this in my ask! Also shoutout to Liz (@kiwicherryallaboutharry) and Morgan (@soullikestyles) for beta-ing and being sweethearts!! Thank you for reading <3

***

Shouts of “they’re finally here!” were the first things she heard when Harry opened the door to his mum’s house. After two delayed flights, ten hours on a plane, and bumper to bumper traffic the entire way to Anne’s, they were in shambles. This was the first time the pair were spending Christmas with Harry’s family, and this was definitely not the way she wanted it to start. She almost started crying when Gemma took her into her arms after nearly running across the house to greet her.

“I’m so happy you two made it,” she smiled, rubbing Y/N’s tired back when she didn’t release from the hug right away. “I was afraid that you weren’t going to make it tonight.”

“I could cry, Gem. I'm so happy to be here right now,” she confessed honestly, exhaustion clear in her voice.

Gemma released her from the embrace when Harry tapped her on the shoulder. “Hello? I’m here too. Do you not miss your baby brother?” His voice dripped with sarcasm and his dimples were deep on his cheeks, as they always were when he was home.

She rolled her eyes at him, muttering sarcastically “not as much as I missed your lovely girlfriend,” before he pulled her into a hug of his own. The two were the spitting image of each other, both with their exceptionally similar smiles and adorable noses. He squeezed the smaller woman tight, enjoying their reunion after not seeing each other for at least three or four months. They were still so close, even after Harry’s move to LA to be closer to his girlfriend. Y/N had pretended more than once that she hadn’t overheard them when he would call her for relationship advice.

Looking away from the Styles siblings, she was met by Anne's bright smile paired with her wide open arms extended for a hug. “Sweetheart, it’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed with a Santa hat sitting snugly on her head, pulling her close to the woman’s warm and kind body. “There are plates of dinner made up for the two of you in the kitchen and plenty of leftovers in the fridge if you want any more.” She was naturally so caring about those around her and tonight was no different.

“Thank you so much, Anne,” she said graciously. “I’m so sorry we’re so late.”

“Oh, stop it. It’s a Christmas miracle you made it at all with the snow,” she brushed away her apologies, her voice taking a more serious turn as she locked her eyes with hers. “I’m so happy you’re here, Y/N. You’re just as much a part of our family as Harry is now.”

Y/N’s heart warmed with the kindness behind Anne’s words. There was so much love surrounding her right now, too much for her to comprehend without getting teary eyed. She was so thankful for the tenderness and care Harry’s family had shown her over the last three years. She felt at home in what used to just be a house to her; like she was a part of the family.

“Oi, stop hogging her,” Harry teased Y/N, bumping her hip lightly with his and nudging her out of the way so he could hug his mum.

“Harry Edward, I raised you to be polite. Leave the poor girl alone,” she scolded, but opened her arms up wide to receive her son. He was so much bigger than she was, seeming to swallow her body whole in his arms. Y/N couldn’t help the smile that came to her lips as she watched the two interact.

The pair of travelers were passed around the living room, giving hugs and kisses to the various aunts, uncles, cousins, and stragglers that were attending Christmas Eve dinner at Anne’s. The room was full of loud boisterous laughter and Christmas music that played off an antique record player and it smelled like wine and the remnants of a large dinner that had been eaten when they just couldn’t wait any longer for the two to arrive.

Y/N’s stomach growled without permission as soon as she saw the plates of food resting on the counter that had been waiting for them. The pair stood hovered over the plates and ate like they hadn’t seen food in weeks. At the moment, she could only think of two things she knew about Anne for sure: she knew how to raise children and she was a fantastic cook.

When she looked up and saw a spot of gravy hanging on the edge of Harry’s mouth, she just couldn’t resist. She tiptoed and pressed a short kiss to the corner of his lips, taking the gravy with her in the process. He looked down at her with a slightly surprised, but mostly loving, look after she pulled away. The edges of his lips turned up, asking “What was that for?”

“You had something,” she mused, jokingly twirling her pointer finger in the direction of her own mouth.

Before she could process it, his lips were back on hers, kissing her slowly and with so much love. His lips were soft and pillowy as always, but there was something more behind them that she just couldn’t place.

“What was that for?” she asked breathlessly when he released her, using his own words against him.

“I know I have been kind of on edge all day and I just wanted to thank you for dealing with me. I love you so much.” She couldn’t fight the grin that found its way onto her face every time he told her that he loved her. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe she had nabbed such a good one.

“I love you too. Are you alright?” She asked worriedly, noticing the way his eyebrows were nervously knit together and how his posture was slightly worsened like it always was when he was stressed.

“I’ll be okay soon.” There was more behind his words, she knew it for sure, but Harry was very good at playing it cool when he wanted to. She knew he would either tell her soon or it would resolve on its own; she trusted him to tell her what was going on if he really needed her.

Her train of thought was interrupted when Gemma stuck her head into the kitchen and announced that the annual Charades tournament was beginning. Y/N had only heard about the myth of the Charades tournament before and she was excited to find out why her boyfriend raved about it so often. Harry excitedly grabbed her hand, leading her into the crowded living room, watching as the first teams had already begun acting out and guessing.

Before long, it was Harry and Y/N’s turn to go, matched up against Gemma and her husband. She sat on the couch, assigned to play the guesser after he cockily told her ‘there's only one actor in this family,’ and watched closely as both Harry and Gemma read the clue written on the small slip of paper. Gemma gave him a playful and excited smile before extending a friendly hand for him to shake.

“You ready for this, H?” she asked, but once again, Y/N felt like there was more behind her words than friendly competition. Y/N began to think she was being kept in the dark about something, but before she could think too hard about it the pair had begun their miming.

Harry took the approach of creating a circle with his pointer and thumb, repeatedly slipping the whole he had created over his left ring finger.

“Wedding ring!” she guessed excitedly from the couch, only to be met with a shake of his head.

He then moved to get down on one knee, pretending to hold a ring box in his hands. “Asking someone to marry you!” she questioningly yelled again, only met with another shake of his head, but she could tell she was getting closer.

It was when he performed the same ring gesture while on his knee that she got it. “Engagement ring!” She nearly screamed and jumped off the couch, twirling in celebration (a symptom of always being a bit too competitive) after Harry’s face lit up and signaled they had won.

She was confused for a split second when she came back around and Harry was still on his knee, but it all made sense when she saw the real ring box that was now in his hands. Her hands flew up to her face in shock and she was unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone words.

“My love,” he began softly, “I knew I wanted you in my life forever from the moment I met you at that stupid bar. I fought Mitch so hard that night, but he dragged me along and it was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

She remembered that night fondly, but it had admittedly been a mess. She had just gotten dumped and so had Harry, when they found each other at the end of the bar, far away from anyone who was actually having fun, they had started talking and never stopped.

“You make me a better person,” he went on as tears had begun to roll down her cheeks, “and I never want to be who I was before I met you ever again. I love you so much and I never want to live without you. So,” he took a deep breath with hopeful eyes, “will you marry me?”

A shout of “Yes!” let her lips before he even finished, throwing herself at him and bringing him into a kiss.

It all made sense now. She understood why Harry had been so upset when their flight had been messed up, and why Gemma and Anne had been so excited to see them, and especially why he had been on edge all day. He was nervous to ask her, in the most charming and endearing way.

The crowd around them cheered when they finally stood up and their eyes locked as Harry delicately slid the ring onto her left hand. His eyes were slightly teary, but held an excitement that was unmatched. The ring was giant and beautiful, exactly what she expected from him when the time came, and she could barely tear her eyes away from it.

“This is the best Christmas present ever, H. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Thank you for reading! Reblogs/feedback are much appreciated!!

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fan fiction #one direction fan fic #one direction #my writing #harryandhockey #Harry Christmas fic

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janaeekook · 3 years

Text

.Crimson lace.

pairing: bestfriend!seonghwa x reader (f)

warnings: dom!seonghwa, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (be safe kids)

word count: 4.9k

The roads were winding, twisting through the expansive mountain scape around you, Small flakes of snow falling along the road. You were in the passenger seat of your best friends car, the radio softly playing some pop song that Seonghwa seemed to know word for word.

It was that time of year, Seonghwa's family and their annual trip to their cabin. The past years you and Seonghwa had gone up a day earlier than the rest of his family to take up all the supplies for the week and check that the generator still worked properly.

"So what movies are we going to watch tonight?" You asked, curious as to what we would do before his parents, aunts, uncles, siblings and cousins came up tomorrow.

"I'll leave that to you." He said glancing over to you from the drivers seat. You smiled widely, knowing which movies you'd pick for the movie night that had become a tradition.

The smile that masked your face didn't fade as you watched each dainty snowflake powder from the sky. It was exquisitely beautiful, the grey early January sky, the chill of the outdoors cut off by the cars heat and the warm starbucks coffee that warmed you from the inside.

You hummed tugging your legs into a crossed position in the seat, the paper cup still in your clutch. You inspected the glove box, nothing but crumpled napkins, registration and a small first aid kit.

"We're almost there." Seonghwa informed you.

"How did you-"

"You act like I haven't known you my whole life." He chuckled, "You get antsy after long car rides."

You chuckled, forgetting that Seonghwa was indeed your bestfriend, and had been for years. He knew practically everything about you, neither of you ever saw each other as more than bestfriends bound at the hip.

He'd seen you half naked, passed out drunk on the bathroom floor, three times through the notebook after your first breakup, and he was by your side through all of it. Nursing you to health, loving you when you thought no one would, and giving you endless support when your dad passed away.

His parents were the same growing up, knowing your mom was busy working overtime to pay the bills; you'd stay over, that was when you and Seonghwa really grew close, you sleeping on the floor of his dragon themed bedroom.

As your mind continued to reminisce, the car was pulling up to the large cabin, It was large enough to house all 17 of us with its 7 bedrooms. The parents and grandparents got their rooms, the younger kids shared rooms, the girls in one and boys in the other. But as you and Seonghwa got older you started sharing the last bedroom.

It wasn't weird for you, you'd been sharing a bedroom and bed with him since you were both 4. His relatives however always asked if the two of you were dating, and you'd laugh it off because to the two of you it was utterly ridiculous.

You stretched your tired limbs when you stepped from the warmth of Seonghwa's car into the brisk outside winter air, "We made it!" You exclaimed lightly in excitement.

Seonghwa's chuckle sounded warm enough to melt the falling snow all away, "Did you doubt we would?"

You shrugged, grabbing one of the many large boxes of food and supplies that were piled in the back of his car.

"You're a scary driver." You teased, feigning fright. He smacked your arm before grabbing a box as well.

"Excuse me I am a wonderful driver."

You giggled, stopping promptly as you reached the entry way, Seonghwa taking his keys and unlocking the large wooden door. You took a deep breath in as you stepped through the door, the cabin always had a distinct smell a mixture of sandalwood and crisp apple.

"Wait!" You gasped making Seonghwa who stood in the kitchen whip around to look at you in slight concern which quickly faded upon studying your face. Bright eyes and an excited smile as you continued to hold onto the box of food.

"What?" He couldn't contain the contagious smile that spread across his face.

"Can we make a fort for our movie night?"

"Let's get everything inside, and the generator going, first and then talk about the plan for the night, ok?" He said and you nodded quickly in agreement. He watched as you skipped back out the door, and he couldn't help the smile that drew at his lips.

Anyone watching them could see the love and adoration in his eyes, anyone and everyone, except you. Seonghwa had started to feel more for you, he loved you and he wanted you to know. But you were oblivious to the signs he'd been displaying the past 2 years. Sometimes he grew frustrated and just wanted to grab your face and kiss you— but at what cost? What if you didn't feel the same?

Well he knew you didn't, he was just your bestfriend and nothing more. He never tested that boundary for fear of losing you, he could never picture a life without you, it just didn't make sense.

"Hwa!" He was pulled from his thoughts by your voice, "Get out here and help me."

He chuckled, "Ya, ya." Following your words out the door

The generator rolled with a start, humming lightly. Seonghwa stood dusting off his hands as he stood from his previously squat position before leaving the small shed with a huff of satisfaction hurrying the short distance back to the insulated cabin.

"You got it?" You asked the second you heard him come through the door.

"Try the lights." he said, and so you did, the dark room quickly being illuminated by the warm light.

"Haha! Look at that!" You exclaimed, he always loved the excitement you got from the smallest things. Lights, electricity, something so simple and everyday and yet it brought you the upmost joy.

He wanted to tell you how cute you were, "Aww is someone afraid of the dark?" He joked instead.

"Very funny, If I recall correctly you were the one that just had to have his Spiderman night light plugged in."

He scoffed, "At least I don't cry at the sight of an insect."

"Arachnophobia is a very real thing, Seonghwa."

"Then I hope none are lurking around the cabin." He said in an attempted spooky voice, wiggling his fingers as he moved his arm toward you, which you proceeded to hit out of the way. You stuck your tongue out at him.

"Jackass." You said, and he only replied with his melodic laugh, You threw a folded blanket at his chest, "Now help me with the fort."

You both threw blankets over the couch and propped them on various chairs from about the cabin. Purposely leaving the fluffiest and nicest blankets for the inside, where you also strung fairy lights randomly. It was as magical and cuddly-cozy-warm as ever. You climbed in wrapping yourself in a blanket then opened your laptop in front of you, Seonghwa joining with an armful of snacks.

You hummed, grabbing a handful of popcorn, "You know the way to my heart, Park."

"Its like I'm your bestfriend or something."

"Hm, so 10 Things I Hate About You, ya?"

"Whatever makes you happy." He said with a smile. That's all he wished, for you to be happy, and if sitting here with you in a makeshift fort of blankets and fairy lights, with snacks that were bad for you and cheesy hallmark movies, was what made you happy— then so be it. If you insisted, he would sit there all the days of his life with you.

He sighed lightly to himself, You've got it bad Seonghwa. He thought, though he knew, he'd known. Falling helplessly in love with his bestfriend, who saw him as just that, her bestfriend.

How truly infuriating it must be for him to see you look at others and not even consider him. Though that wasn't your fault. You didn't know. He wished you'd notice, but you still hadn't. It had been years, every holiday, coming up to the cabin— falling asleep next to the other.

He looked over to you, your eyes shut and lips parted slightly. It was unbelievable, you always insisted on a movie night but Seonghwa knew you'd be asleep by the end of the first. That's just how you worked; he studied your sleeping face with a smile, tuning out the movie. He thought you looked beautiful, truly.

Unconsciously you scooted toward Seonghwa's warmth. His lips forming a sad smile as he watched his sleeping bestfriend cuddle into his chest. You'd always been cuddly, ever since childhood— as if you had been starved of physical affection your entire life. So you'd always found reasons to hug him, or others and be close to them, not wishing them the same fate.

This is how he'd fallen in love with you. Why, he'd fallen in love with you. Simply for you and your heart.

Though he was still a teenage boy, and when he woke up in the middle of the night, that night, heart racing, skin damp with sweat and his boxers straining against him. He wanted to curse at himself, to ignore it and go back to sleep. But you moving in your sleep forced him to fight off a moan as your ass pressed against him unintentionally.

He nearly jumped off the floor and right up hurrying to the bathroom, where he shut and locked the door, before leaning against it. He looked at the clock that quietly ticked on the wall, 3:45 am. He sighed, annoyed then pulled his sweatpants down just enough to take himself into his hand, pumping himself as he searched for relief. And he did, cumming over his hand as he whispered your name.

The next morning you woke up, Seonghwa no longer next to you. You looked out of the fort finding him sitting on an uncovered part of the couch, eyes fixated on the TV.

"Seonghwa?" You croaked out, he turned to glance at you, his cheeks red but you assumed it was from the cold, "What's going on?" He didn't actually respond just turned up the volume on the TV.

Breaking: All roads on the highway north are closed after an unexpected snow storm dumped at least 5 feet of snow in the middle of the night, authorities are advising residents to be patient as they work to clear the roads.

"We're snowed in." He finally said.

"So- what does that mean about your family coming up?"

"They're not." His voice seemed strained, as if full of dread.

"Jeez, I can't be that awful to be around." You joked before stalking off into the kitchen to make some breakfast.

What you didn't know however was what truly was going through his head. This had to have been some twisted fate the universe had placed on him, working to test his strength in the process. How long could he hold out? How long could he restrain himself in these close quarters? Maybe it was the cold getting to his head, making him weaker.

"Do you want pancakes or waffles?" You asked from the kitchen, effectively knocking Seonghwa from his trance.

"Did you really just ask me that question?" He seemed borderline offended.

"Who else?" You snorted

"Waffles are 100 times better than pancakes, you know that." He stood walking into the kitchen and standing on the opposite side of the island.

"Excuse me? Pancakes are so much better than waffles, they're fluffy."

"But everything just spills off the top, waffles have indents to capture all of that flavor so you don't miss any of it. Plus pancakes are always raw in the center."

"Are not!" You turned around facing him fully now.

"Why'd you even ask me then if you like pancakes better."

"I don't know, maybe because I thought it was a simple question." You retaliated.

"Are we really fighting about pancakes and waffles?"

"Yes, now you can make your own breakfast."

"You're a pain in the ass." He said walking around the island and grabbing cereal from the cabinet.

"Dido." You said in a sing-song voice and smiled at him. He sighed, shaking his head at you with a smile across his own lips. This was what your friendship had always consisted of, joking play fights and comments. You were probably more comfortable around Seonghwa than your own family, partly because he felt like family to you. You threw a chocolate chip at him as he sat at the counter and you wondered in that moment what you would do without your bestfriend. The rest of the day passed at a snails pace, being snowed in only making you more aware of how seemingly little there was to do in the rather large cabin. You danced to music in the living room as Seonghwa laughed saying that you had 'not a single dancer bone in your body' to which you answered him by throwing a pillow at his head. That had led to a merciless pillow fight between you, which of course he ultimately won. Later in the day You sat, reading a book on the couch. You weren't exactly sure what the book was about, you had simply found it on the book shelf. It was interesting, interesting enough for you not to register that your bestfriend had entered the room again after having gone to change.

"Hey," He said, grabbing your attention, "I'm gonna go out, check the main roads. You gonna be ok?" Seonghwa asked pulling gloves onto his hands.

"Ya, I'll be fine." You smiled at him from the couch. When he walked out the door and you heard it close behind him you dropped the book, you needed to shower, and it'd just be easier if Seonghwa was out while you did.

You threw your hair in a bun as to keep it dry, stepping into the running water and washing your body. It was hot against your skin, and you sighed as your body relaxed. You took your time as the water ran over you. The past day had been a whirl-wind of surprises, with all the snow, we were able to call Seonghwa's family with the land line, but other than that there was no reception, No clear way to get home as the snow blocked the roads. The plows hadn't made it through the back roads. It wasn't too awful being stuck with Seonghwa-- if it was anyone other than your bestfriend you think you'd have pulled out all your hair already.

Though not having your alone time already had you cranky, you sighed, washing your body. Finally feeling clean you shut off the water and stepped out, standing on the small shower mat you looked into the mirror, You allowed your eyes to scan you body decorated with water droplets. You felt-- pretty, as if your insecurities had been washed away, and saw your body for what it was, you. You smiled lightly before grabbing a towel and drying your skin. You left the humid bathroom and went to the bedroom, kneeling in front of your suitcase in hopes of finding something comfortable to wear. Though when you flipped open the lid you saw the crimson lace. You felt heat rush to your cheeks at the thought of why you even packed the scandalous piece of thin fabric. What were you even hoping to accomplish?

You lifted the lingerie up, you bit your lip lightly, Seonghwa wasn't there it'll be fine if you wore if for a bit. right? You sighed again before you stood, dropping the towel, and letting it pool at your ankles. You pulled on the matching lace set, before looking over yourself in the full length mirror in the bedroom. It fit perfectly, and boy did it make your confidence soar. You felt empowered by your own body, beautiful. Any supposed imperfection, that prompted insecurities in your heart and mind, a mere reminder of how uniquely beautiful you were.

You weren't sure how long you stood there. But your heart stopped when the door was pushed open. Though you didn't yell, you didn't even move to cover yourself. No, you weren't frozen but deep down, you wanted him to see you-- even if you hadn't realized it.

"Hey, Y/n, the roads-" but he stopped mid-sentence when he was welcomed to the sight of you in next to nothing. His eyes seemed to cloud with a dark lust, you held your breath, he stepped closer, the tips of his fingers grabbed at one of the straps. His eyes fleeting over your body once more, as his fingers traced the crimson lace that covered your breast. His intense gaze met yours again when his hand fell away from your chest.

"What are you doing to me?" His voice a low whisper.

"You said you went to check the roads." Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, the way your bestfriends eyes ran over your body, drinking up each curve. It should have made you uncomfortable, but you couldn't help but feel desire creep into your thoughts.

"That was an hour ago."

"Oh." was all you could find in your mind to say. It was silent for a few beats before you decided to speak again, "Seonghwa."

"I need you to let me know if you're uncomfortable, because, I really don't want to hold back right now." You'd never heard Seonghwa sound so sultry before to someone, let alone yourself.

The whine that involuntarily slipped past your lips encouraged him to step forward and entrap your lips with his. It was a searing kiss, he pushed you back against the small desk that was behind you in the small bedroom.

You felt as the red lace of your panties pooled with arousal, your cheeks flushed, wondering how your childhood bestfriend made your body feel so uncontrollably hot, without even so much as a touch to your skin. He hiked you onto the small desk nudging your legs apart with his knee so he could stand between them.

"Was this your plan? Hm? Get me to lose control and fuck you?" His fingers traced your jaw hooking lightly under your chin, forcing your eyes to meet. His eyes held a hard questioning gaze, you tried to shake your head no but he held your chin in place, "Use your words."

"No- no hwa."

"No? You sure darling? You just happened to be wearing this?"

"Yes." Your tone was soft as your confidence, for the first time since you were children, wavered under his gaze.

The corner of his lip quirked up lightly, "Am I making you nervous darling?" His cocky tone oozing from each word.

"Seonghwa-" your voice breathy as you looked up into his eyes, his fingers moved over the wet patch on your red lace panties.

"That needy baby? Hm?" He asked when you whined.

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Make me feel good."

Nothing more needed to be said as his lips were on yours again need and want burning between you. You'd never felt it before, you'd never wanted someone to touch you intimately so badly, especially not Seonghwa. But there was something forbidden about his touch that made your body hot with desire.

He got to his knees before you, his face now parallel with your cunt. He kissed over the thin fabric and your breath shuddered. He thought you looked beautiful, the red lace complimenting your skin tone perfectly.

"God you're perfect." And with that he pushed the barrier of fabric to the side running his tongue through your slick folds. The noises you made only further expressing how needy you really were, it felt wrongfully right. His mouth on you bringing you to the edge quicker than you imagined possible and it was just his tongue, he didn't need anything more to pleasure you.

"S-seonghwa-" your head lulled back in response to the overwhelming pleasure, your eyes squeezing shut, your ears tuning into the wet noises eliciting from between your legs.

Your head snapping back to the man between your legs when he pulled away. You whined with a solid pout on your lips having not finished.

"Not yet." Was all he said, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. He pulled you from the desk, his lips finding yours again as he pushed you back until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. He eased you down onto the plush mattress, your lips never separating.

Removing his clothes you felt his own hot skin against yours. Everything seeming to melt together, the lines of your friendship, your bodies as you pulled eachother closer— feeling your need grow tenfold as his hips grinded down on yours.

Voice breathy in your throat you managed to push his name out, "Seonghwa-"

"Mmm, you sound so pretty saying my name."

"Seonghwa, please." Your voice more stern now, you needed relief from the pulsing between your thighs.

"Begging now, are we?" He smirked as he teased you and you rolled your eyes, "Don't worry darling, I'll make you cum on my cock."

And in that he didn't lie, his lips peppering you neck and collarbones before wrapping around your lace covered nipples. Removing his own clothes eagerly, but he froze.

"Condom-"

"I'm on the pill, Hwa, please don't stop now." The desperation in your voice fueling his own need to be inside you. He craved to feel you warm around him.

Running the head of his cock over you folds caused his breath to catch in his throat, every late-night forbidden fantasy when he laid in his bed alone, dominant hand pumping himself to the thought of you. It was all about to become very real, a shaky moan leaving both your lips as he pressed into you. There was no going back after that, not as you came on him within minutes— no matter how much your head denied your want for him, your body couldn't.

Though when he came, soon after you, he didn't stop. You whined not because it was bad, but because the overstimulation burned in your stomach. It was intoxicating and Seonghwa continued to drill into you. Determination was clear on his face, his lower lip pulled between his teeth. Your eyes met his.

"God, I can't get enough of you." He panted out. Each breath grew sharper as he worked himself to his second consecutive high.

You couldn't speak, your brain was far to hazy, only your moans of pleasure and your thoughts screaming his name. The slapping of skin, over the bed creaking beneath you, and your incessant noises— becoming deafeningly loud.

Though you weren't all too worried about about being too loud. The dense snow covered forest beyond the walls of this cabin hushing it all, "Seonghwa!" Had only been a mere whisper to the trees. What had just happened between you and your bestfriend? You couldnt really say-- and he couldnt either as you both tugged on your clothes again. Neither one of you having any clue how to start the conversation at large. Though Seonghwa's voice finally broke the silence.

"That was-" He paused searching for the right word to use.

"Really good." You finished for him, another lapse of silence passed.

"I'll just- go and start a fire." Seonghwa said before leaving the room.

"I'll make dinner." You spoke quicker than you normally would and rushed off to find solitude in the kitchen. In the privacy of your own minds you thought the same thing, What was that? And why did you want more? Though was there even more to ask for when you'd seemed to have done everything?

The two of you slept separately that night, not wanting to fall into the temptation of the others skin. At least not before you figured everything out. But as you laid alone in the bed, and he in the living room in front of the fire, all that either of you could think of was your bodies pressed snuggly to the others. How it felt to have him inside you, the feeling of his hot lips on your skin. It was loud in your thoughts, and every time you tried to push it down and settle your heart, It only got louder. Sleep did eventually come to you, albeit reluctantly. It was rather short lived, you waking up to Seonghwa shaking you awake.

"They cleared the roads, my mom said we should just head home." You nodded in understanding, before watching his back as he left the room, studying the way he moved. It was effortless, graceful. You shook your head, bringing you back to reality.

By the time you were ready, Seonghwa had already had the car fully packed. You could sense that he was eager to get back home and have time for himself to think, and you didn't blame him because you wanted the same thing. You didn't want to walk on egg shells and give each other the silent treatment any longer. Yes, you wanted to figure it all out and for things to go back to normal between you two. But you couldn't help the instinct to run and hide because the feelings in your heart scared you. You'd grown so comfortable knowing Seonghwa as your bestfriend, that you weren't sure of how to react to that security changing overnight. That, your bestfriend could be more than that of a bestfriend.

It was January and the start of the last semester of senior year. A week and a half since you'd slept with you bestfriend. Seonghwa had effectively been avoiding you and you weren't exactly searching for him either, you didn't know how to start that conversation.

'hey, I know we broke every rule in the book between us but, bestfriends still?' You knew it simply wouldn't be that easy. The things he said, the way he touched you, and made you feel. The emotions now a constant linger in your mind.

You couldn't just move on like it were nothing, because it wasn't nothing. Maybe it hadn't been the best idea but you couldn't help but think, that you wanted it again. More of him, if that were even possible. You'd never thought you'd think of Hwa that way, not in a million years. Though you didn't know how to face him. But not seeing and talking to him after being so vulnerable with each other made your heart ache.

It wasn't until he showed up at your door on that rainy Saturday afternoon, that you saw him. Your heart picking up in speed. His wet hair sticking to his forehead, had he always looked this good doing something so simple? Wearing something so simple? You were sure he could hear your heart pounding in your chest.

"We need to talk." He said, almost as if he was trying to convince himself, he continued as he stepped through the door, "I can't- we can't avoid this anymore. I'm sorry, y/n, I shouldn't have came onto you like that, god I should've known this would mess everything up."

"Seonghwa-"

"You were vulnerable and I let my feelings get the better of me," he hung his head, "Y/n I'm so sorry, and you don't have to forgive me."

"Seonghwa, I'm not mad at you." you said quickly so he wouldn't interrupt you again.

"Then why are you avoiding me?"

"Why are you?" You asked softly, trying to convey your thoughts, you sighed, "You're just as scared to face these feelings as I am."

His head snapped up and his eyes found yours for, what seemed to be, the first time since he'd been there. He searched your face for any sign that you weren't serious, he came up empty handed. Had you both been feeling this?

"You-?" His eyes continued to search yours, He had so many questions, When? Why him?

"-Love you." You finished his thought with a whisper, but he heard you loud and clear. His features visibly seemed to soften before he was kissing you again. You had longed for his lips to be on yours again since the moment they left, for you melted so easily into it.

He pulled back resting his forehead on your own, "I love you too." and he delved in for another kiss, before he quickly pulled back again, "Your mom."

His voice a low whisper with a tone of disappointment. But you only chuckled at him.

"She just left for her 72." You told him, and he smiled, already having plans for your alone time.

"Perfect."

You shook your head at his eagerness as he practically dragged you up the stairs to your room, "You know we'll have to tell our parents eventually right?"

"I know," He said, turning to face you once you were both in you bedroom, "But lets just enjoy this alone time." His palms held your cheeks as he kissed you with such passion it felt as if he'd taken your breath away, But you leaned into his warmth anyway before kicking your door shut with your heel.

As the sun slipped beneath the horizon and the rain poured harder outside, he showed you how much he loved you, he told you, and you fully welcomed the lingering emotions. You became his, in the twisted sheets, the loving kisses, in the noises that escaped from your swollen lips, and the baroque, Crimson Lace.

362 notes · View notes

gotnofucks · 4 years

Text

One Day

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: Ransom meets sub!reader but she won’t kneel for him

Warnings: Strong language, talk about BDSM

A/N: Needed to write an angst/fluff for my fav sweater daddy.

MASTERLIST

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Ransom thought he should be paid to attend these gatherings, but then, in a way he was. As long as he kept up appearances at the family dinners and social events, he got to keep his inheritance. The million dollars were worth a couple hours in the company of his shit eating family and their friends. Sometimes though he was severely tempted to throw a drink in his mother’s face and just leave. These things were anyways getting even more tedious than usual now that Meg had started to bring her feminazi college friends along. It was here that Ransom caught sight of you, standing with Meg, probably the only person with a non-alcoholic drink in her hands. He smirked, because he didn’t think you would be here, especially not in a group of self-proclaimed feminists. He made his way towards you and his cousin, glad something interesting finally happened.

“Hey Meg, how’s your man-hating degree going?”, He asked with a slight drawl in his voice. Meg wrinkled her nose at him and scoffed.

“Asshole, why granddad still insists on inviting you is beyond me.”

Ransom smirked then looked at you, finding your eyes already on him and an amused smile on your lips. You were beautiful like this, but he knew you looked absolutely radiant in some other positions. Meg followed his look and rolled her eyes.

“Y/n, this is my cousin Ransom and if you have any sense in you, you’ll stay away from him.” Meg said and with that she left.

Ransom and you didn’t spare Meg a look and instead looked at each other, both surprised to have met today.

“You pregnant?” Ransom asked pointing at your drink and you laughed.

“I don’t drink”, you said sipping your mocktail. Ransom’s gaze trained on your lips, soft and wet and he licked his own lips in response.

“I’m surprised you’re here, especially with Meg” He commented casually.

“Why? She’s a friend from college. I didn’t know you’re her cousin or I would have reconsidered her invitation to come here today.”

Ransom chuckled and took your elbow, leading you towards a corner to talk without others eavesdropping on your conversation. There was no bigger bunch of nosey losers as that of Thrombeys.

“I didn’t mean that. Does Meg know you stand against everything you guys study in that college of yours?” He asked you. You frowned in confusion.

“Stand against? Why would I stand against that? I am a feminist Ransom, that is why I’m studying it”

Ransom laughed and pushed your shoulder lightly with his.

“Right,” his voice was full of mocking “Is that why you spend your evenings kneeling in front of a man and asking permission to kiss his boots?”

You looked at him with sober eyes, all amusement gone from your eyes. Though his tone was mocking and meant to hurt you, the jealousy in his voice was plain as day.

“You have the most screwed up sense of feminism, Ransom. I don’t see why they don’t ban you from the club already. You clearly don’t understand what happens in there and why.”

Ransom put his drink down and leaned closer to you, his whiskey stained voice fanning your face.

“It’s a BDSM club sweetheart. I know what happens in there. I’ve seen you there on your knees with your hands tied back, I’ve seen you plead and obey. I’ve seen you be such a good girl for him. So, don’t stand in front of me with that bullcrap about women rights when you would drop your panties and ask to be spanked so nicely with hardly a word from a man.”

His words were cruel and taunting, coated deep in envy and rage. You knew that because you’d been fending his advances for months now. You don’t know why he even came to the club. He didn’t have his Dom or sub; he just came to watch.

“You are an idiot Ransom, if you think what I do in my sex life degrades me. Yes, I kneel in front of a man, but only because I want to. I kneel in front of him not because he’s making me do that, but because it’s what I want to do. He’s my Dom and I do what he says, but even in the most intense of scenes, he never makes me do anything I wouldn’t want to. It’s not degrading Ransom, its freeing. I’m a submissive to him because that turns me on, taking his command turns me on. And I’ll be damned if I let someone like you lecture me on my life choices.” You turned around and started to walk away, cursing yourself for coming here in the first place. You’ll talk with someone at the club and see to it that you’re never there with this asshole present.

You said quick goodbyes to Meg and their friends and made your way to the parking lot, ready to go home and relax. You had only just opened your car door when a hand shot from behind and shut it, wrapping around your arm, and turning you around. Startled, you gasped and looked into Ransom’s angry eyes.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You shouted, pushing against his sweater covered chest. He barely moved and inch and cornered you against your car, hands resting beside you and body slightly bent.

“If this is your choice, why did you choose him?” Ransom asked.

“Excuse me?”

“You could choose anyone, and yet you kneel in front of him?”

There is was, the jealousy. Your Dom was a constant source of jealousy in Ransom’s life. Whenever he went to the club, he would see you in his arms, tugged into his side wearing his collar. Sometimes he had you on his knees, other times you knelt at his feet, quiet content to rest your head against his thigh while her caressed your hair. Ransom hated the sight of you with him, obeying his commands unashamedly in front of other club patrons. He’d wanted you from the very first moment he had seen you there, tied to a pole while taking a spanking for everyone to see. While there were other couples going at it around him, it was you who caught his eye. Your grace and form, eagerly counting the spank and asking for more. He wanted you and he asked you to be his, more than once, but you always shook it off. Not anymore though.

“Ransom, you’re drunk. You need to leave” You said, your voice soft yet firm.

Ransom growled and moved a hand to the back of your head, pulling you forward and hovering his lips over yours.

“If you want to kneel before a man, kneel before me!” He said, trying to kiss you but you averted your head and pushed against him until he relented and put a little distance between you.

“Don’t be stupid Ransom, you don’t know the first thing about being a Dom.” You sneer, your hand itching to grab your pepper spray from your pocket and just decking him with it in the eyes.

“I’ll take care of you way better than him. You don’t love him! I know that.” He whispered, taking your hand, and pressing a kiss on your knuckles. You sighed because sometimes Ransom Drysdale was like a baby.

“I don’t love him, true, but I trust him. A D/s relationship thrives on trust, Ransom. I trust him with my body and heart. I know he would never hurt me, and if there ever comes a time for me use my safe word, I know he will respect it. Our relationship is consensual and safe. There is a reason I can bare myself in front of him with no shame and fear…it’s because I trust him to never mock me. Well, unless I ask him to”, you say with a small smile.

Ransom looked at you and tugged you to him, placing your hand on his shoulder and his around your waist.

“You can trust me; I promise to never hurt you. You can love me too”, he said softly, nuzzling his nose in your hair and hugging you. You’d never allowed him to hold you before, having always been around your Dom who didn’t like sharing. You ran a hand through Ransom’s hair before pulling away.

“That’s the thing, Ransom. I can’t trust you. You’re prone to anger and jealousy, you’re so unpredictable. More than that, you need to learn to respect me too. Your ego doesn’t allow for that. Unless you’re a man who respects me, I can’t trust you, let alone love you. Right now, you want me, but what about after you’ve had your way with me? A relationship is a commitment, and as of now you’re not ready for it.”

Ransom looked at you with eyes that had equal part sadness and rage. He let his eyes wander over you, taking in everything. He let himself memorize the curve of your neck and the feeling of your small body against his huge one. He took both your hands in his and squeezed.

“This is not the end of us, you get it? One day, you will trust me with yourself, mind, body, and heart. You will crave me and my touch. One day I’ll ask you to be mine and you’ll say yes.”

Saying this he closed the distance between you and pressed the softest kiss on your lips. His heartfelt confession moved you and you allowed yourself to kiss back, to return his affection for just a moment. Pulling away, Ransom stroked your cheek with his thumb before taking off his pinky ring and pressing it in your palm.

“This is a promise. I’ll have you by my side and you will want it. I’ll make you want to kneel before me, but until that happens, know that I will also always kneel before you.”

He walked away then, but you knew he’d be back. You looked at the ring in your palm before closing your fist and smiling. When the day came, you knew you would willingly surrender to Ransom and you’d be proud to kneel at his feet.

#ransom x reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom x you #ransom thrombey x you #ransom drysdale x you #knives out #ransom drysdale #ransom thrombrey

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sirensmojo · 3 years

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"KINDRED",3 - Tommy Shelby x Reader.

Summary: Tommy meets a librarian that he discovered to be the chief of an underground organisation. Needing man enough allies to dirty their hands in the battle against Oswald Mosley, he shakes hands with the devil. Feelings intertwine with business, a mix that leads to unalterable ends...

Warnings: Swearing, drugs, romance, drama & cheating.

Word Count: 5K

❰ Previous Chapter

*Shelby Brother Company Limited, Birmingham*

“Michael’s a pain in the ass.”

You and Tommy were seated one in front of the other in Tommy’s office, it was almost midnight.

You both stared at each other after your affirmation, the need to formulate words obsolete, when all of a sudden, a hiccup hit your throat.

“Wow.” Your brows raised, along with your free hand, patting over your chest.

Only the booze could bring them to talk, but they would forget everything the next morning, or that, they pretended so. Everything the other would say was rooted in the other’s heart, as a prize.

“I could maybe try something.” You calmly spoke, as if a flash of thunder lightning struck some idea into you.

You two had dirty hands and were capable of taking care of yourselves, but those past three, you got each other’s back.

Without knowing it, you were keeping a close eye on the business of the other just in case.

If the Peaky Blinder found something wrong concerning your business, he would take care of it, in the shadows of course.

No need to tell you he quite cared when he wasn't sure himself.

It was also working the other way, you had ears at each side of the continent, you what had happened to the Shelby politician without him telling you, and straightened back up every shaky thing.

“ ‘Bout what?” Tommy asked, pouring some more whiskey in the cup resting in your other hand.

‘The two partners trying to get rid of Mosley’ had become an excuse. The silence each brought to the other was addictive, and the days between each meeting only amplified that obsession.

“Speak sense to his wife. Given the situation, I think both the weak and tuff points of Michael’s scheme are her.”

Tommy frowned, thinking deeper about what you told. You weren’t entirely wrong, he doubted Michael would’ve betrayed him without the support of somebody.

“He was pushed to one side, a little push to the other one will make him think right.” Y/L/N got further.

An evening meeting was programmed weekly.

You started meeting at the library during the first week. Then, the Shelby Brother Company Limited’s office, catching the attention of another member of the Shelby family.

“You think it’ll be this easy?” The peaky blinder asked, sprinkling ash onto the ashtray that was on the table that separated you two.

“It’ll have to.” You responded.

Polly was the first one to confront Tommy directly about the presence of a very well dressed woman far too often in the offices.

“Her hair is nice.” She added, smoking on her cig looking intently at Tommy's gleaming eyes at the mention of the so-called “librarian”.

Because that was how he presented Y/N. A girl from an aristocratic family searching for exoticism and bought a library.

He and you were to work together solely due to his status at the House of Commons, none more none less.

But the Gray woman knew better, even if she refused to push the matter further.

“May God keep Arthur away from her, he’ll eat her for his lunch.” Pol’ tease before she shook her head at her own statement as Tommy coughed away this whole discussion.

(...)

Three knocks could be heard on the Gray’s room door in the Midland hotel.

The entrance opens, “Told you I’ll join you in a minute, Gin--” Michael’s voice stopped as soon as his wife abruptly pushed her shoulders to his to enter the room.

“What are you doing?” One of his hands was in his suit pocket, the other one grabbing the door handle.

She hassled to the phone, dialling a number without even glancing at the Gray.

“Gina?” Asked the man, looking intently at the movements of the woman, blinking slowly.

She refused to address him, waiting patiently until the person she was calling responded.

“What is going on? What do you mean our contacts were offered another deal?”

Michael went closer, and as he was sitting on the desk chair, leaning backwards on it, he started to understand what was going on.

“Anyway, we can still offer them to prosper durably, that man can’t say the same, right?”

She rolled her eyes at herself after remaining silent for some minutes, she was listening to the individual at the end of the line.

It was more than clear she was done with everything.

She wasn’t even slightly “happy” to be in the shit hole that was Birmingham as she, herself, qualified multiple times. The only reason she was here was that Michael didn’t want to properly betray his cousin.

He convinced her to come here and resonate with Tommy about a “normal succession”, but she knew damn well it wouldn’t work. Why would he give everything he spent so much time to gather under the pretext of succession?

Tommy wasn’t the type to give up things, for any reason.

And now that they were away from New York, their allies already started to forget about their promises…

Why did she even agree to let Tommy a chance?

“He didn’t fall for Michael’s plan. We will have to do it our way.” She seemed happy at least, to finally be able to handle the matter how she wanted to, which was the only good news about this call.

When the receptionist asked for her at the restaurant, she’d expected to be told all was ready there and that Michael would only have to give the order for the plan to begin. But no.

Gina hung up the phone before she lifted her eyes to her husband that was staring at her, patiently waiting.

“It was my uncle, some man going by the name of Haynes met with all of our contacts, offering them a greater alliance directly with the Chinese, without needing us as intermediaries.” She finally spoke.

The younger Gray looked away, clenching his jaw as a hand came over his face. He let out a long sigh, his body voicing his displeasure. But his wife’s hand came on his shoulder as she leaned on his back, and murmured near his ear:

“But. He says it’s looking like the perfect time to launch plan B, baby.” She grabbed his chin as she turned around to stand in front of him.

“He says it’ll show them we can also ‘bang’ if it’s needed. It’ll be like showing our hand, and in this case, this is the thing to do.”

One of her hands was on Michael’s thigh as the other was still holding his face so he was looking at her. It was a way to say “focus on me” without actually saying it.

As the man was diving into her brown eyes, it seemed she succeeded at keeping him from thinking too much. She gave answers before he could even formulate questions.

By his silence, Gina surmised Michael still wasn’t sure about the plan.

“We did it your way Michael, coming all the way up here to your cousin’s chaotic decisions. Things need to get in order, baby. And it seems like you’re the one that cares enough to do so.” The words left her mouth so lightly as she straightened up and turned her back to her husband.

“We need to go back to America as soon as possible. You promised our child will be born there.” She added, glancing at him above her shoulder.

(...)

Arthur and the boys had convinced Tommy to relax at the Garrison after a long day. Even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he slammed the doors open to a packed place.

Ahead of them were approximately twenty women, all dolled up as if coming from the Eden club in London. Very short hair with the golden headband with feathers, embroidered pearls on their cotton dresses made it known they were from high society.

Some of them were dancing in the middle of the room, while others were singing on the counter zigzagging between glasses and bottles.

It was the first time Tommy had seen most of those people.

He was actively searching their faces trying to locate the reason for their presence when his eyes confirmed his thought. You were dancing, turning on yourself holding the hand of a taller woman.

You had on a black & red dress going down to your knees with a black and gold headband that flattened your hair, forcing your finger waves to frame your face. Your slow and haunting movements were wrinkling the fabrics, complementing your silhouette.

As you were spinning around, the fringes of your dress were flying in the air as well as your hair, adding to your alluring dance.

Your cheeks, certainly reddened by the alcohol and your half-opened eyes due to you boozing with the huge grin that illuminated your face, made Tommy’s eyes twinkle. As if it was a beautiful night sky full with stars he was looking at.

“Who’s that Tommy?” Arthur questioned entering right after the Shelbys head.

“Get in the room, I’ll bring the bottles.” Tom’s low voice ordered as he motioned to the little room near the counter.

Finn and Isaiah hassled to the room without wasting any more minutes, too appealed by the idea of getting drunk while Arthur leaned to his brother’s ear.

“Look at that butterfly Tommy, isn’t she lovely?” He asked after he caught the reason for Tommy's order.

The latter dismissed the discomfort with a rough cough, turning to his brother.

“What about you fetch the bottles, eh?” He simply put, and that was enough for Arthur to leave it there.

“Whiskey for the peaky boys!” He exclaimed as he patted Tommy’s shoulder. He managed his way behind the counter, after which, he took what he was searching for and disappeared behind the large doors of the little room he closed behind himself.

Tom stayed there, looking at you for some time trying to understand which one of the facades he had seen was the real you.

You were now sitting on your friend's lap, legs crossed, your lips were alternating between a long cigarette holder and a glass of what Tommy surmised to be whiskey knowing the character.

Giving up on searching for an answer, he turned his heels and joined his brothers as if nothing had happened.

(...)

Coming out of the car, you looked both ways before crossing the street and joining the large wooden door, a hand in your suit’s pocket, the other leading a cigarette to your lips.

You pushed in the door and were met by two pairs of eyes. A tall young white man, with a dark-skinned one, wearing berets.

Without second glancing at them, you confidently walked to the stairs at the end of the large room, making this place your own.

Your heels resonated on the cold hard ground, and as they did, each man in the building turned to you, staring in both awe and confusion.

Coming down the stairs, you passed by the three little training rings before you sat down at a little table in front of one of them. It was two men fighting, one who had a luxuriant moustache hiding his upper lips, freckles sprinkling his face.

He was screaming at the other one with a thick Birmingham accent, “Come ‘ere, boy.”

“Hit me! Hit me!” His tone was louder each time.

The poor man ahead of him didn’t dare to punch, which he certainly regretted after he received a strong right fist in the jaw.

Only a couple punches later the loud man succeeded at putting down the other that was wincing in pain.

“Yeaa” The moustache man exclaimed before being interrupted by one of the two boys you saw earlier.

“Arthur! There’s a--” He stopped dead at the sight of you, and you put your cig in between your lips as you got up, beginning to applause.

The sound resonated against the walls as no one was making any noise. You grabbed back the cigarette with your fingers and moved closer.

“Do you fight? I know great opponents,” you paused, feigning to think. “not so sure they will stand even for a round with you.” You clicked your tongue, tilting your head.

They both looked at you up and down for a whole minute before the named Arthur opened his mouth, even if still struggling to properly breathe, he smacked his lips as his hands went flattening his hair.

“Searching for exotism, love?” He grabbed the towel he was handed by a small chubby man with a hat. “Bet you liked what ya see.” Arthur decided to make it normal for a woman to come to sit and watch men fight.

“Indeed.” You let out, a curious gleam in your eyes.

He turned to the man on his side that leaned in his ear, murmuring something.

Arthur let out a deep “Hmm” before he got out of the ring.

He glanced at you and decided to keep up the talk.

“I don’t fight like this, it’s just for---”

“Fun?” You interrupted him, your eyes still fixed on his figure. His stare encountered yours before he put on a shirt. He grabbed the filled cup off the table.

“Curly, Tommy needs you in Charlie’s yard. Finn, you go with them.” He was pointing at the men and to the door up the stairs as if dismissing them.

So the man handed him things was going by “Curly” and the boy, Finn.

“What you doing here? It’s not some place for you.” He buttoned up his pants.

You scoffed at his affirmation, leading him to look up at you.

“I like some good fights, is that forbidden, Mr Shelby?” You came nearer, throwing the rest of your cig in his cup.

You were standing right in front of him, taking the bow tie hanging on the half wall of the ring and slowly led it to his neck. He took a step back, but you stepped forward, blocking him against the ring sides.

“You know Tommy?” Arthur felt the need to say something, the situation being extremely odd to him.

You gently put in place the bow and looked up to Arthur’s face, from his pale skin to his eyes. You stayed there a whole minute, analyzing his soul throughout the blue spring sky of his glassy eyes.

“I’d like to see you fight more. In real rings, Arthur. Why don’t you use the boxing place, it’s not far from here.” You turned your heels, walking back to the chair.

He looked at your figure, his eyes blankly fluttering for a moment. Needless to say, the minute you stared at him was displeasing, he was feeling as if he was robbed of something.

He ignored the warning and grabbed his boots, before he installed himself on the other chair around the little table, wanting to hear more about your offer.

“You fight good, but with some real training you could be something else.” You offered him a cigarette that he refused.

You were testing him from the very moment you put your feet in this cave, from checking how to open his mind was to his relation with poison such as cigarettes.

And now that you know everything you need to know, you could offer something.

“You’re some sort of agent?” He asked, intrigued.

You shook your head “Did you ever imagine women fighting? Just like you did, perhaps slightly better” You questioned, teasing him on the end.

His only response was to look at you in disbelief, and you bet he didn’t even understand what you told him.

“There is a world that exists, right here in Birmingham. Wanna go out and see?” You motioned your head toward the door, inviting him to agree with you.

It wasn’t that hard to convince the elder Shelby brother, he was always open to seeing more of life. Even if that meant to beat the shit outta people, get drunk, fuck the whole city or drowning in drugs.

The thing with Arthur was that he wasn’t careful enough, what told him it wasn’t a trap and that he will not get kidnapped or even killed if he followed you? Nothing. Nothing was ever sure with him, but leaving on the edges was something like his daily prayer, so of course he said yes.

Why in the hell would he say no? Tommy could do without him today.

(...)

Tommy had an unexpected visit from Churchill himself. It seemed like the latter had taken a liking to the head of the Shelbys.

“Do what you have to do, Mr Shelby.” Were Churchill’s words toward the reason for his visit, Mosley.

Indeed, he had thought out a concrete plan. And surprisingly, it was thanks to the books you sent him over the weeks, it was almost worth getting harassed by her over the primar book.

The plan was simple, Mosley will make a speech a week and a half from now, the 6th, in Bingley hall. Taking advantage of an anti-fascist demonstration during the rally, an old war comrade named Barney will shoot, and to be cleared of any suspicion, Thomas will be standing right next to Mosley at the time of his death, making sure he’ll take the head of the fascist union.

Today’s meeting was to explain details of the plan and what needed to be done before the d-day, but Tom didn’t see his brother during the entire day and when he’d asked the boys he was responded that Arthur stayed training some more.

It was hard at times, even for him to understand his older brother.

Not that he wanted to, but normally Arthur would never miss a meeting. The only times he didn’t show up were when he was overwhelmed with dark thoughts, and it wasn’t the right time for something like that to occur.

He decided to come to the pub, hoping to see his brother there, drunk, but not in a random cave trying to end his life.

Tom opened the Garrison’s doors, coughing at the amount of smoke coming in his face. He squinted his eyes, at first searching for a fire, but the more smoke entered his nostrils, the more he recognized the smell of apples and red fruits.

“Arthur, what the hell?” he called.

The place was crowded but Tommy’s eyes were focused on his brother, installed at the table near the windows.

He walked to the table and motioned to the windows. “Open one of these.” He ordered, but his brother didn’t see nor hear him. He was too occupied smoking on what seemed like a pipe with a long tube from where came the smoke.

“Oi!” Tommy yelled.

As everyone around the table turned to him, his eyes met with someone he would’ve never expected to be here.

Y/N was previously actively discussing with some girls when someone shouted into her ear.

You stared at Tommy for what seemed an eternity, he doing the same, both asking themselves what the other was doing here.

“Tommy!” His brother exclaimed, louder than he needed to. But this one was too occupied looking at you to even glance toward his brother, that well noticed the stare between you two.

Arthur managed to get up and pat his brother’s shoulder, welcoming him properly.

That’s when he turned to him, incredulous. His icy blue eyes were piercing his brothers, relentlessly.

“Welcome to the new Birmingham, brother!” Arthur seemed ecstatic. “Did you fucking know there were women fighting too, Tommy?”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Arthur.” His brother shook his head, still looking at him.

“Boxing, he saw women boxing for the first time.” You entered the conversation to Tommy's displeasure. He looked over you blankly.

“What the fuck is this?” He pointed to the thing Arthur was smoking from previously.

“It’s called a hookah. Or a shisha in percian.” You responded even though he decided to ignore you for who knows what reason.

“Come on, brother, it’s the good life, isn’t it?” Arthur asked, seeing the face of Tommy next to him.

He ultimately pointed back to the windows, “Open those.” Was all he said before turning back and leaving the pub.

“Sergent Major!” You authoritatively called, the heavy Garrison’s doors making a thud as they closed behind you.

The stars were twinkling dimly in the bright sky, cleared of any cloud. It added phlegm to the frenzied atmosphere between the two individuals.

He was already walking in the opposite direction but immediately stopped at the mention of his Small Heath Rifles’ rank.

Thomas turned back. “What did you say?”

You decide to ignore him and start walking to him.

Each of your steps snapped with the fortitude of an army. And the fineness with which you balance your weight from one foot to the other could bewilder the fiercest individuals, that, he knew.

Not a single ounce of hesitation nor apprehension in your movements.

But the most unsettling thing Tommy found about you was your facial expression. It wasn’t closed off or concentrated, quite the reverse, the spark settling behind your iris could light up any type of darkness and you were undoubtedly giving slices of life to each person you would smile to.

The addition of your features creating a delicate dimension where it was possible to believe the best things could happen.

At that moment, Tom wished he hadn’t seen you at that library. You were something he couldn’t overfly even if he dared to. But for some reasons he wasn’t able to move on, swayings seizing his entire being, physically as well as mentally.

There was just something about this, him and you.

“What the hell did you think, you that act like the most intelligent of all fucking Birmingham and beyond. My fucking brother doesn’t need none of that!” Tommy wasn’t screaming, but you could hear in his deep tone the anger rooted in his throat.

“He doesn’t need it or you don’t want him to have it, Thomas?” You calmly stated, which made him turn his back at you, passing a hand over his face.

You were pushing him to the edge and that made you laugh, which you didn’t even try to muffle.

He turned back to you, eyebrows raised.

“You wanted this.” He pointed you with his index.

He was accusing you of wittingly driving him crazy and you couldn’t even deny it.

You grabbed his finger with your own hand and pushed it down without releasing it.

“No, I counted on it.” You started, your lips curling into a smile that didn’t escape Tommy’s gaze.

“Life’s a succession of wars, Tom. But soldiers too need to relax.”

No one had ever put a finger on that nerve, but here he was, gazing longingly into your orbs, your words resonating within him.

You wasn’t only talking about Arthur and the fact he needed to be distracted to stay away from dark thoughts. You were also talking about him, that didn’t have to take care of everything as you were there now to handle some of it.

“I promise you I know what I’m doing.”

He leaned backwards, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

Why were you promising things now? The last time you two were that close, it was you that ran away, and now you were the one initiating things to drift from professional to personal.

You sighed and looked down. That’s when you realized both your hands were locked together.

You frowned, remaining silent. You were shocked, but not as much as you should. You weren’t totally stupid, the feelings settling in you were pretty clear once you stopped pushing them aside.

Soon enough he followed your stare, noticing the thing as well.

Both of you released at the same time, looking at everything but the other.

Tommy coughed, fighting the will to be the one saying something in this situation. But he didn’t want you to escape him again this time.

“I’m dealing with Arthur, you don’t have to put your nose in my affairs. It’s not part of the deal.”

You’d preferred he hadn’t spoken. You rolled your eyes at yourself before throwing him the “really?” look.

“You can’t even deal with Michael and you’re telling me you’re dealing with Arthur.” You scoffed, putting a hand on your lips to muffle the sound of your laugh.

His body relaxes at your gigglings.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re foolin’?” You couldn’t hold the laugh back any more.

He didn’t respond, nor act on what you just said. He just stares at you, filled with joy at the simple sight of you being vulnerable.

A smile drew at the corner of your lips when you stopped mocking him.

Your eyes fluttered of wellness, as he was just standing close, doing nothing else than breathing.

Tommy grabbed a cig and put it in between his lips, but you hassled to steal it and lock it between yours.

He glanced at you, raising his brows. He was done with you that was for sure. But not in a bad way. You were playing a game and you won the match.

He came lightening up your cig as watching you take a deep and slow puff on it.

You started to walk, going deeper into the street and he started to do the same.

(...)

Michael and Gina were coming back from the restaurant. It was the first time the husband took his wife out to eat in Birmingham as she, obviously, wasn’t a fan of the city.

They didn’t see the time’s flying and it was already ten when they reached the wide glass doors of the hotel.

As they entered it, they noticed it was almost pinched black inside, the only source of brightness emanating from little orangish lights hanging on the walls behind the counter.

Michael glanced left to right at the place, no one to be seen, or so he thought. It was only when Gina stepped foot in, that he glimpsed figures coming out of the dark spots.

They were moving fast, getting nearer the American woman before his husband could do anything to protect her.

“Gina!” Was all he said before she disappeared outside the front doors of the hotel along with the individuals.

(...)

Tommy stops the engine looking straight ahead.

You were looking outside the window, to your large mansion. You managed to glance at the man before opening the door. You were gauging his reaction, almost testing the water all while maintaining the silence.

As the tension couldn’t get higher, you stepped out. You began to move away from the car when you heard its door open, followed by the clearing of a throat you knew too well.

Tommy’s steps on the gravel came nearer and nearer. When you turned the keys in the lock they were right behind. You opened the heavy wooden entry and got in, letting the door open.

The man entered behind your and turned his back at you, closing the door. When he turned back at the entrance, Y/N had disappeared.

He stepped deeper in the house, and joined the living room, where he glimpsed at your figure, your air resting at your back, your fingers over a note on the table.

Tom got closer to you, grabbing your elbow with the tip of his fingers, looking at the paper you seemed focused on.

Done.

You quickly glanced around, as if making sure you were alone. You then turned to him, raising your palm to his cheek, a gentle touch that he didn’t expect, making his lids slowly fluttering.

You took a step forward, leaned towards him and fondled his nose with the end of your own before leading your fingers to his lips.

You closed your eyes, rooting yourself at this moment and forgetting about the library, high society, Mosley, Michael and everything that stood between you.

He was the one to initiate the kiss, the call for you being louder than any other things at the moment. One of his hands slid to the hollow of your back as the other was grabbed by hers.

Fingers intertwined together, breath mixed, lips pressed against one another, heartbeats speeding and a thousand seconds later, you pulled away, slowly raising your gaze to Tommy’s.

The weight this kiss meant dropped on Tom’s shoulder as he, without hesitation, came to taste again the sweet flavour of your lips. You gasped at the connection, the eagerness of the feeling inside your stomach being fed.

You were breathing loudly in his mouth, your hands now grabbing Tommy’s clothes shamelessly.

They both knew there was no turning back and that things got more complicated than they needed to be, but none of them pulled away nor hesitated for even a slight second.

Following Chapter ❱

#peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #peaky blinders fandom #peaky blinders fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

In the Neighbourhood

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, very lightly edited

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After your grandmother breaks her hip, you volunteer to look after her as she recovers but her neighbour is a bit too friendly.

Note: @lokislastlove thinks I won’t call her out anymore but I’m calling her out and you should too. Always blame her.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your grandmother’s house never changed. Nestled between two larger homes and with grass as green as the next, it was as perfect as any along the suburban sprawl. Inside, the same framed pictures of your mother and your aunt and uncle, those of you, your siblings, and your cousins, and family members you only saw at reunions. All of them far away. All of them keeping her company only in the still images. None of them coming to care for her; none but you.

You didn’t mind so much. With two degrees under your belt, you were ready to start your novel as you pondered a third. Your online transcription job was easy enough to travel with and you loved your grandmother. The least you could do was help her out in her recovery. A broken hip but otherwise okay. She couldn’t do much from her wheelchair and you feared a worse injury if she tried.

You moved in on a Sunday. The family next door, the Barbers, were the perfect picture of a suburban clan. Andy introduced himself and his wife, Laurie, and their quiet son, Jacob. Then they asked if your grandmother, Lucille, was coming to their barbecue that afternoon and invited you along with her. Your grandmother confirmed that she didn’t want to miss out on Laurie’s potato salad because she’d tripped on a rug.

So you wheeled her over, careful as the grass slowed the chair, and you angled her through the open gate. You seemed to be the last to arrive. The air smelled of searing beef and swirled with the buzz of voices. You stood behind your grandmother’s chair as you looked around nervously and a plump woman with short curly white hair approached.

“Darla!” You grandmother greeted. “You’re back from your little getaway.”

“Arn was keen to come home,” The woman smiled up at you and back to your grandmother. “I heard you had a bit of an incident.”

“Oh, still spry, but the damn doctor has me ‘takin’ it easy’,” You grandma sneered. “I’ll be up at it before long. This is my granddaughter, you remember her, don’t you?”

“I do,” Darla smiled though you barely remembered her. “So sweet of you to come down to look after our Lucille.”

“It’s nothing,” You said. “I owe her. I spent too many holidays on campus.”

“That you did,” Your grandmother chided. “But do go on and socialise, dear. There must be someone here your own age. Or closer to. You can’t be lettin’ yourself get caught up with us old biddies.”

“I’m fine,” You chuckled. “Really.”

“You go. Get something to drink.” You grandmother snapped her fingers. “Mingle!”

You huffed but left her with Darla and another woman, you were certain her name was Betty, passed you on her way to join them. You looked around. The wives were in their clusters and the men drank from brown bottles as they laughed and talked about sports. You didn’t know about children or baseball.

You went to the end of the table, just by the barbecue, a cooler open and waited as a young boy claimed a can of Orange Crush. You reached inside and took out a grape soda. The lid of the barbecue closed and you turned to face its master; Andy smiled as you blinked at him.

“That’s the kid’s cooler,” He said. “There’s a mini fridge in the garage if you want something stronger.”

“I’m good with this,” You cracked the can.

“I thought you were a college girl,” He said as he set down his long spatula.

“Graduated.” You assured him. “Never was big on the scene though.”

“Really?” He lifted a brow. “I kinda miss it.” He stepped around the barbecue, closer to you. “It was a while ago now but it was fun. You know,” He put his hands on his hips as he looked across the yard. “I was in a frat with Carson over there,” He nodded to skinny man holding a bottle of water amid the sea of brown glass. “We got in quite a bit of trouble. Maybe I wrote a few of my exams drunk but didn’t do much harm.”

“Oh yeah?” You said dully. “What do you do now?”

“Law. Assistant district attorney.” He preened. “But don’t worry, I can still have fun.”

He winked and you squinted at him. He was an old man trying to relate to a youth. There was what, ten, fifteen years between you? Wasn’t that much, really, and yet it was.

“Legal fun,” You suggested.

“Well, the immoral isn’t always illegal,” He mused. “So… Miss Graduate, you have a job lined up?”

“I work online for now but I’m writing, too.” You shrugged. “Nothing fancy but it’ll do for the time being. Until my grandma’s better.”

“That’s a nice thing you’re doing,” He said. “You know, not a lot of people I know my age would drop everything to go care for family.”

“Least I can do,” You sipped from the can. “She always did make the best lemon meringue. It has its perks.”

He chuckled and backed up as he grabbed the spatula again and opened the barbecue.

“Offer stands,” He called over the smoke. “Beer’s in the garage.”

“Thanks,” You smiled and slowly walked away. This was like that party you’d spent hiding on the porch; awkward as hell.

🏡

The first two weeks passed swiftly. You woke up, made breakfast for your grandmother, her usual oatmeal and tea, then you spent a few hours working online, then lunch, an hour of writing, a walk through the neighbourhood, some alone time, dinner, and then some nightly crime dramas with your grandmother. Each day was identical to the last and you felt the vaunted slog of suburban life.

It was Saturday. You needed to get out. Your grandmother even encouraged it. A few hours at the bar, drinking, dancing, you returned with a guy, Gabe, you met there, hushing him as you snuck him in the front door.

The house was dark as you climbed the stairs carefully and ushered Gabe into your bedroom. You closed the door and grabbed him as you stumbled to the bed. It was messy, hurried, and desperate. Entirely regrettable as you laid staring out the window at the sky after. You didn’t have time to ask him to leave before he started snoring.

You slept for a few hours and woke as the sun began to rise. You poked the stranger you knew as Gabe until he woke up and you threw his clothes at him before you dressed. You peeked into the hall and waved him out behind you. You led him down the stairs and to the front door. He left you with some empty nicety and you hid your wince. It wasn’t your first one night stand but it was definitely the worst.

“Fun night?” You turned as Andy descended the steps of his porch and opened his car door.

“You work on Sundays?” You grumbled. You hoped he hadn’t seen your regret walking away.

“Not usually but I got some hours to make up.” He dropped his briefcase in the back seat and closed the door. “I know that guy. Pretty sure he’s still on probation for the molly he was dealing at the mechanics.”

“Ugh, no.” You covered your face. “You saw?”

“I got a bit curious as I was finishing my coffee.” He pointed to the window with lacy curtains. “Great view just above the sink.”

“So you’re one of those neighbours?” You crossed your arms.

“I seem nosy but really I’m just looking out for you.” He opened the driver’s side door and planted his hand on the roof of the car. “Look, you don’t know the people around here. I’m just trying to help.”

“Well, I won’t be seeing him again.” You retreated to the door and stopped there. “Boring, to say the least.”

“Heh,” Andy scoffed. “Really?”

“Not that it’s any of your business.” You rolled your eyes and stepped inside, closing the door with a snap. You went to the bottom of the stairs and looked up. “Hey, grandma,” You called as you began to climb. “You ready to get up?”

🏡

At the end of the next week, you took your grandmother to her check up. Her recovery was on track but she had a long way to go. The doctor was optimistic that at her next appointment, she’d be ready to use her walker more often.

As you helped her out of the car and got her settled in her chair, you ignored the roar of the mower in the next yard. You’d seen Andy as you drove up. He was pushing the machine back and forth across his already perfectly manicured yard; shirtless. As you turned to push your grandmother up the walk, you couldn’t help but notice that he was in great shape for his age. For any age, really.

“Hey,” He yelled over the motor and shut it down. “How’s it going, ladies?”

“Andy,” Your grandmother chimed. “Great! Doc says I’m doing well.”

“Mmhmm,” You mumbled, still slightly embarrassed over your last interaction with the man.

“Well, seeing as I’m already out here and you already had such a busy day, I could do your lawn while I’m at it?” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and you quickly tore your eyes away from his chest.

“Oh, you’re too sweet,” Your grandma giggled. “It’s so hot out here.”

“I don’t mind,” He insisted. “Laurie’s gone to see her parents with Jacob so I’m just trying to keep myself busy.”

“Twist my arm, why don’t ya?” Your grandmother shook her hand. “Fine! Sweetie,” She reached back and tapped your hand. “Let’s go make some lemonade for this young man so he doesn’t overheat.”

Andy smiled and you nodded at him awkwardly. You wheeled your grandmother up the newly installed ramp and inside. She ordered you to the kitchen and directed you to the lemons hidden in the crisper.

“The juicer is just under there.” She pointed to the cupboard, “And you’ll want to add some sugar.”

“I know how to make lemonade, grandma,” You said as you pulled out the pitcher.

“That Andy’s a nice man,” She said. “So helpful… handsome too. It’s too bad you’re so young… and he’s so married.”

“Stop,” You warned. “You said the same thing about your doctor.”

“Yes, but he’s a doctor. He’s rich.” She snickered. “And not married, just not into your type.”

“Grandma,” You snipped. “Really.”

“I don’t know how your mother ended up with you.” She said. “She was such a little troublemaker.”

“Trust me, I’ve heard,” You said as you washed the lemon juice from your hands and added water and sugar to the pitcher. “I think her stories were more a warning.”

“Too smart for your own good,” She tutted as you mixed the lemonade.

You went to the cupboard and grabbed some ice cubes from the freezer as you set a glass on the counter. You poured the lemonade and gave her a sour look.

“You think you can look after yourself for a few minutes?” You asked dryly.

“Girlie, I was taking care of you while you were in diapers,” She narrowed her eyes.

“Oh, how the tables have turned.”

“I don’t wear diapers,” She hissed as you neared the door. “Yet.”

You went out the front door as Andy pushed the mower across the yard just along the walkway. He stopped and looked over at you. He shut down the motor again and neared you as you came down the steps to hold out the glass. He thanked you and took a big gulp before he handed it back.

“You know, I didn’t mean anything,” He said. “The other day. Sometimes… I say stuff without thinking.”

“It’s… whatever.” You shrugged and set the glass on the rail of the porch. “No hard feelings.”

“I just got a hot tub. Just gotta hook it up and it’s ready to go.” He said. “You should stop by later. Get a soak in.”

“No, I don’t think so.” You stood at the top of the steps. “I don’t wanna leave grandma all alone. She wants to watch Casablanca tonight. I promised we would.”

“Maybe another night.” He offered. “You work so hard. You deserve a break.”

“Maybe,” You said evasively as you turned and crossed the porch. You glanced back as you opened the door and he was still looking at you.

“Lemonade’s good.” He smiled. “Thanks.”

🏡

You finished lunch and left your grandmother to her puzzle at the dining room table. You went upstairs to change the shirt you’d spilled mustard down; it was all you could smell. You tore off your shirt and tossed it on the bed. You rounded the bed to the dresser that sat just below the window and opened the draw. Movement caught your eye and you looked up across the space between yards.

Andy’s eyes met yours through the windows. You’d never realised they were adjacent, let alone so easy to see through. He wore a towel around his waist, freshly showered and his gaze strayed for just a moment. You blanched and pulled out a shirt and covered yourself with it. He smirked and tilted his head. Then he winked and a shiver went through you.

You grabbed the curtain and closed it so forcefully you nearly bent the rod. You backed away and put the shirt on properly. Surely, he was being funny. A tense, awkward moment. What else could he do but make a joke? Well, it wasn’t a very good one.

🏡

You stayed inside for the better part of a week. Aside from your walks with your grandmother and a trip to the grocery store, you kept your curtains closed, and hid yourself away. Maybe you’d built it up in your mind but you were just set off-kilter by the wordless interaction. Since, you felt as though you’d been walking a tightrope, too afraid to look down.

But that night, your grandmother wanted to sit outside. It was warm and the nights were shorter; later. You wheeled her out, a book on her lap, and as you made to skirt back inside, he appeared. Andy had impeccable timing. It made you wonder if he was watching you; if he had been for much longer than you knew. Well, now you were just being paranoid.

“Hey,” He stood at the edge of the yard. “Beautiful night.”

“Sure is,” You grandma replied. “I’ve got a new book and I’m ready to enjoy the breeze.”

“Oh, a new book? What’s it about?” He asked as he neared tentatively.

“Another scary one.” She cracked the cover. “Or so I hear. Skinwalkers taking over a whole city.”

“Ah, spooky,” He commented and looked at you. “And you?”

“Writing. Inside.” You said evenly.

“I figured since it was so nice, I was finally gonna try out my new Jacuzzi,” He said. “I just… I did promise you a soak so I thought maybe--”

“Eh, I don’t know.” You neared the door. “I really should try to get some writing done.”

“Nonsense, dear,” Your grandmother intoned. “You’ve been on that computer all day. You should go, relax.”

“Really, I--”

“Laurie might join us. She’s inside doing some work.” He piped up. “She wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Go on! I’m getting sick of ya anyway,” Your grandmother snorted. “You could stand to loosen up.”

“Grandma,” You huffed.

“Go get changed,” She ordered and smiled at Andy. “She’ll be over shortly.”

You blinked and tried to hide your irritation. You went inside before Andy could notice and you stormed upstairs. You weren’t even sure you’d packed a suit. You searched through the dresser. The curtains were still drawn tight. You found your old pink bikini with the white flowers. Really? It had to be that one?

You changed, reluctantly. It couldn’t have covered less of you. You found a tee shirt and pulled it over. You descended the stairs again and stepped out on the porch.

“Thanks for that, grandma.” You scowled.

“I can see why you were never popular,” She laughed. “Go. Have fun. This old lady can handle herself.”

You stomped down the steps beside the ramp and stopped at the border of the yards. You sighed and went to the gate, it was open in expectation of you. You heard the whir of jets before you entered. Andy was just beside the hot tub, testing the temperature with his hand as you stood across from him. He looked up and gave a crooked smirk.

“Andy,” The back door opened and Laurie appeared. “Oh, hey.” She smiled at you before turning back to her husband. “I’m gonna pass. Gina’s not going to make it in tomorrow so looks like I’ll be up all night.”

“Damn, that’s too bad,” Andy said. “More tub for us I guess.”

“Yes, love you too,” She said dryly. “You enjoy yourself. And don’t leave that thing on all night.”

“Yes, honey,” He said before she shut the door. “Love you.”

You swallowed. Your mouth was dry. Maybe you had been a bit presumptuous. Andy climbed into the jacuzzi and lowered himself into the warm water with a sigh. You hesitated to get closer but you did. He watched you, expectantly. You grabbed the edge and tried to will yourself in.

“You’re wearing that?” He nodded to your tee.

“Yeah,” You lifted your leg over the side.

“You don’t gotta be shy,” He grinned.

You paused and frowned at him.

“I’m joking,” He said. “The other day. That was… funny. Bad timing.”

“Mhmm,” You drew your other leg over and carefully sat.

“You met any more cute guys?” He asked suddenly. You squinted.

“What?”

“Not much to do around here, you know? Pretty boring.”

“No. I don’t--” You sputtered. “I don’t think it’s a very good idea. Once my grandma’s better, I’ll be going.”

“Still, it’s lonely.” He said softly.

“What do you care?” You asked, harsher than intended.

He was quiet. He leaned back and looked over at the house then back to you. He exhaled and spread his arms over the edge.

“So… that toy you hide in your night table? You always use it or you ever just… feel yourself?”

Your heart sank. You felt as if you would choke on air. Had you imagined his words?

“What did you just--”

“Took you long enough to catch on,” He said. “Got a good view of you when I can’t sleep but… not anymore. Too bad.”

“Andy,” You stood and the water splashed around you. “You-- You’re-- Laurie, she--”

“I haven’t fucked her in months. This is what she does.” He sat forward and caught your hand. “She works. All the time. I try and she… just doesn’t want to.”

“Let me go.” You struggled with him. “You’re disgusting. You’re married!”

“Me? Fucking awful some young girl strolls into town and tries to seduce a married man? What would grandma think? And Laurie? She’s not one to sit back and be humiliated.” He tugged on you. “I have a reputation around here. You’re just a stranger, and apparently one, who fucks strangers.”

“What are you talking about?” You nearly slipped as he spun you back to him. “You’ve been watching me and--”

“I’m just a neighbour looking out for you,” He pulled even harder and your feet slid across the bottom of the jacuzzi, forcing you to catch yourself on him. “Like I do all my neighbours. They would confirm as much.”

“Get--” You grabbed his arm as it snaked around you. “Andy! Laurie--”

“Doesn’t give a fuck and if she came out, well, she’d only realise what’s she’s pushed me to.”

You wriggled as he held you to him. He drew your leg over his so that you straddled his lap. You pushed on his chest and grunted.

“You keep it up and everyone will hear. Even sweet old nana.” He snarled. “I saw you looking at me that day… when you brought me lemonade.”

“No, no,” You rasped.

“I’m old, not that old,” He purred. “As you can obviously see.”

“Let me go. Please.” You begged. He was too strong and your arms only ached from pushing against him. “Andy--”

“Shhh,” He grabbed your chin with his wet hand and pulled you close until your lips almost met his. “In this town, rumours travel. It might be old news that you left a bar with that dumb kid but now, it’s evidence.” His hand slipped down your neck and squeezed. “Such a bad girl.”

“No one would--”

“They have no reason not to believe me,” He rolled up your wet shirt with his other hand. “Annie across the street, she likes gossip. She’s seen you flirting with me, at least that’s how she told it to Laurie but you know, my wife just laughs it off. And now she’s no doubt seen you come into my backyard in just this.” He pulled your shirt higher. “And her mind is going wild.”

“I can’t--”

“How long did he last? A minute? Less?” He snarled and his other hand slipped down to draw your shirt up. You kept your arms down as you tried to resist. “Bet you could wait to use your little toy.”

“Stop,” You pleaded.

“Get your arms up.” His voice was deep and dangerous. “And stop your whining.”

You stopped and stared at him. His blue eyes burned into yours and sent a shiver through you. His fingertips pinched your hips as they crawled under your shirt and he pushed it higher.

“You don’t shut up and someone will hear, sweetie,” He warned. “Up.”

He tugged until you raised your arms. A wave of bile rose in your chest and you let him peel away your wet shirt and reveal the skimpy bikini beneath. He dropped the cotton over the side of the tub and his hands grazed the triangles of your top.

“Cute,” He hummed. “You hiding this from me?”

You were quiet, sickened. With him, with yourself. You knew you couldn’t fight, wouldn’t. You remembered the barbecue and how you’d been the odd one out. Recalled how Andy had talked to almost every person there. Everyone loved him and no one knew you.

“Mmm mm mm,” His fingertips walked around your neck and he picked at the knot behind your neck. The straps loosened and he let your top fall and expose your chest.

He bent to bury his face against you and nibbled along your tits. You looked, startled, to the back door. It was still shut. A light glow from a bedroom above and the distant beat of music escaped through the slightly opened bedroom window. Another light died on the first floor and was replaced by a second on the top floor, reflecting against yours on the other side.

You quivered as Andy took a nipple in his mouth and sucked. You felt it in your core as his hand cupped your other tit. He reached beneath you and played with the edge of your bottom. He drew you back as he leaned against the side of the tub and lifted his pelvis, and you with him. He tugged on his shorts and sat back down.

You felt hollow and a cloud of panic filled your stomach. You struggled against you and he bit you. You squeaked as his teeth threatened to break the skin and stilled. He parted and looked up at you.

“Be a good girl,” He felt beneath you and began to stroke himself.

“Please--”

“Shhh,” He turned his hand and hooked his fingers in your bottoms, pulling them aside. “It’s okay, sweetie.” He rubbed his tip against your folds. “It’ll be good.” He drew you to him and angled you over his dick. “Better than ever before.”

He forced you down and your lips formed an o as he entered you. You latched onto his shoulders without thinking and he pushed you to his limit. His lips and teeth returned to your chest as he once more began to toy with you. You quivered as he began to rock your hips.

The water swished around you, swirling and slapping against your skin. You held your breath as you tried not to cry out. You hissed as you dug your nails into his shoulders and let him guide you. Despite yourself, despite everything, it felt good. It felt wonderful. He was right and you were weak.

“You like that?” He nuzzled your throat. “Is this what you think of at night, huh?”

You bit your lip as he kneaded your hips and kept your moving.

“I think of it all the time,” He muttered. “All the time. Maybe…” His breath caught and he groaned. “Maybe I could offer to take you grocery shopping, hmm? We could have some fun in the car…”

“Andy…” You whimpered. “No, we can’t-- not again…”

You grasped his wrists and tried to push yourself off of him. A semblance of sanity returned to you as you looked him in the face. His eyes were dilated and dusky. He was entranced; incorrigible. You struggled as he held you down.

“This is wrong--”

He shoved you off him as his lip curled. You stumbled back and caught yourself on the other side of the tub. The water splashed as he stood behind you and grabbed your arm. He turned you over and pushed you over the siding, a jet blowing against your pelvis.

“Doesn’t feel wrong to me.” He growled.

He held you down with a large hand between your shoulders as he pushed your legs apart with his knee. He pressed against you and searched for your entrance, swiftly impaling you. You choked down a mewl as your hips crashed into the wall of the tub. He leaned his weight on you entirely as he rutted into you without relent. You were certain someone would hear the clapping of flesh or the stir of water all around.

“You’ll do what I want, when I want,” He sneered. “And from what I can tell, you’ll like it.”

“Andy--” Your voice fizzled as the pressure mixed with the steady stream of the jet as it hit your cunt.

You held in a moan as you hung over the side of the tub, the blood pounding in your head as you panted wildly. You covered your mouth, afraid you would cry out as the coil inside you twisted and twisted. Your legs quaked as you orgasmed.

Andy’s hand gripped your hips and he pulled you back against him, again and again, using your body easily. You slid back and forth over the side and he bent over you, crushing you against the tub. He growled in your ear and his thrust jolted your body.

He pulled out suddenly, still looming over you as he stroked himself against your bikini and pressed his damp beard to your cheek as he shuddered. His hot cum spilled out onto the wet fabric and dripped down your thigh as he eased himself through his climax. He sighed and pushed himself from atop you, falling back into the water heavily.

You stayed as you were for a moment. Stunned. Shakily you stood and fixed your top and pulled your bottom straight. You couldn’t look at him. You climbed out of the tub and walked unsteadily across the grass.

“Ah, that was relaxing,” He said. “Come back anytime.”

You ignored him and continued onto the gate.

“Oh, and it’s supposed to be a cool night,” He called after you. “You should keep your window open.”

You slipped through and the gate creaked behind you and closed with a metallic click. You shivered as you kept to the side of your grandma’s house and entered through the back. You didn’t want anyone to see; you were certain they would know if they did.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #dark andy barber x reader #dark!andy barber x reader #andy barber x reader #fic #one shot #dark fic #dark!fic #Defending Jacob

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duskypinkbow · 3 years

Text

All Love II Jeff Wittek

word count: 3k-ish (she a big baaaby)

summary: I got inspired by All Love by Fletcher... so I guess that explains it?...

note: English isn't my first language.. so plss excuse my mistakes ✨

tw: mention of drugs, drinking (tell me if there are more?)

Jeff’s and your story goes way back. Him being a friend of one of your older cousins, made his face a familiar one in your neighborhood. Although you didn’t see him very often nor interacted with him in any way, you knew who he was. You remembered his face, recognized his eyes and always reminded yourself of his beautiful smile. He was the barber boy from the shop across the street. The handsome guy from around the corner, involved in far too many erroneous decisions. You saw him cutting peoples hair, always admiring his work ethic at such a young age. You heard your cousin dropping his name in stories he told you and your siblings about stuff they did together, for which they did or did not get caught for. Jeff Wittek wasn’t a stranger to you, but you wouldn’t consider him a friend either.

That changed when you reconnected with him a few years later. Both of you chasing your dreams in Miami Beach, not knowing from each other's presence in the city of the sun. The two of you bumped into each other at a party, hosted by one of Jeff’s closest friends, who coincidentally also was an acquaintance of one of your friends. As you spotted him in the crowd of people, smoking a cigarette you assured yourself that he couldn’t recall who you were. For one thing because he was fairly intoxicated and for another thing because you didn’t even know if he knew your name in the first place. You being the little cousin of one of his friends from back home. Why would he even remember your face?

Even though you were sure that he wouldn’t recognize you, you tried your best to avoid an encounter with him. Whenever he looked in your direction, you quickly turned away. When he somehow came closer to where you were, you searched for an excuse to disappear. You didn’t even know why you were so afraid and nervous to stand in front of him, but you continued your hiding nonetheless.

After a very successful night of preventing to meet him, and after you saw him leave the party, you decided it was time to celebrate your performance with a drink. You went to the nearest bar and tried to order yourself a cocktail when a tall man decided to fill the empty space next to you. „Heeeyy“ he introduced himself while he semi-leaned towards your small frame, his hands placed on the counter. „Hi“ you responded shortly, smiling with closed lips as you noticed it was him who was standing right next to you.

Although your eyes deliberately went in the opposite direction than he was standing, he reclined back and squinted his eyes before he asked you „do I know you?“. You quickly shook your head and nervously tapped on the counter in front of you. „I don’t think so…“ you answered, still not returning his gaze. His eyes scanned your figure up and down before he pointed at you and rephrased his statement „I do know you!“ now sure about his cognizance. „I think you are mistaking me…“ you uttered tremulously, your hands fidgeting with your own fingers. Your level of uncomfortableness increasing by the minute, as his inebriated breath created a veil around your face. „I do…“ he objected trying very hard to recollect his memory.

„Shiiiit..“ he spit out when he finally realized, elongating on the vocal „you’re from back home right?“ he spluttered before he put one of his hands on your shoulder to use you as a strut, demising the possibility of him falling down. You let out a little gasp as your gaze went to his hand. Looking at his long fingers nestling your naked shoulder. „You are from Staten Island! Aren’t ya’?“ he questioned you, exaggerating on his accent, his hand back on the counter and a big smile decorating his face, now very sure about his recognition. You breathed out at the sudden loss of physical contact. „Holy shit you really grew up, didn’t ya’?“ he mentioned while he scanned your whole body again. „Fuck, does Leo know that you run around looking like that?“ his words spoken while he pointed his finger at your outfit, a cigarette placed between his digits.

Still intimidated by the tall brunette standing next to you, you cleared your throat, gathered all your strength and spoke up „…that's not of his concern“. You breathed out, looking for the bartender, pleased and proud of your confident demeanor. Although you didn’t look at him, you noticed how his smile got even bigger, showing his perfect teeth as he finished the last pull of his smoke. „Well, certainly not anymore huh?“ he admitted right before he called the bartender, apparently another friend of his, to order drinks for the two of you.

During the rest of the night he didn’t left your side for one second. He told you about his friends, explained what he was doing if he wasn’t attending parties and gave you an extensive heads-up about places you shouldn’t go to. You friendly declined his offer of him walking you home but surrendered as he insisted on doing it anyways. Since your friend, which promised you to go home together, left the party with a random dude, it was safer for you to be accompanied by Jeff then going home all by yourself. „I hope to see you around y/n..“ he confessed when he was about to leave your apartment building. You took a last look into his eyes, nodded and let him vanish in the darkness of the night.

Although you tried your best not to spend much time with Jeff, you couldn’t avoid the fact that the two of you grew inevitably closer. Part of the reason being that two of your friends started dating, which particularly forced you to spend more time together. And the other one being that both of you shared the same hometown, which made you just relate to one another on a level no-one could really understand. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t enjoy Jeff’s company, but you wouldn’t admit to it either. Neither to your friends and certainly not to Jeff himself.

In virtue of your and his friends group colliding you found yourself run in the wrong circle of people. The ones your family and especially your cousin Leo always warned you about. But Jeff, keeping his promise to Leo, watched out for you and tried his best to keep you out of the affairs. He always told you not to try the drugs some of your friends were doing, although it were his friends that brought them to the table. He revealed horror stories of downfalls some of his friends had, while you saw the same things happening to your acquaintance. He tried his best to keep you on the right path. And his effort finally made you realize, that Miami isn’t the right place for you.

One night when all of your and his friends were partying in a penthouse, he begged you not to drink too much. Even though you were extremely annoyed by all the restrictions he already made for you, you obeyed him, not wanting that night to end in an argument. So instead of getting drunk, to keep up with intoxicated people, you just drank until you felt a little tipsy. You thought he just wanted to keep his promise to Leo. That he didn’t want you to do something stupid that you would regret someday. But in reality he just wanted you to be at least semi-sober for the very first kiss he was about to give you that very night.

He walked you home, a habit the two of you adapted during the last few weeks of being friends. He gave you his jacket, embracing you in warmth filled with a mixture of the smell of cigarettes but most importantly his incomparable sent. He tried to take smaller steps for you, since your small body couldn’t keep up with his pace. And that in spite of getting more and more nervous with every street the two of you passed. He felt his heart beat faster with every step he took. His fingers getting shaky as he brought you closer to your place.

When you finally stood in front of your entrance, searching for your keys, he took them out of his pocket. „Looking for those doll?“ he asked, swallowing away all the insecurities he had before and making a small step in your direction. You nodded lightly at the sight of your keys, a strand of hair falling down in front of your face. Jeff stepped forward and put the keys in the looker, your back now pressed against the entrance of your apartment.

You looked up into his darkened brown eyes, your lips parted as you breathed out slowly, feeling his somewhat alcoholized breath against your skin. „Fuck…“ he said with his raspy voice, making you smell the drink he has drunk that evening. You swallow your uncertainty, your head fell back on the door just by the thought of tasting the liquor his lips enjoyed just hours ago. He breathed out, his gaze still focused on you „I promised Leo to protect you…“ he started slowly. „Keeping an eye on you…“ he continued while putting the fallen down strand of hair back behind your ear. „Making sure you don’t get in trouble…“ getting more and more quiet and closer to your face with every word he spoke. „But fuck y/n…“ his arms now resting on each side of your head, as if there is a protective shield around your body that doesn’t allow him to touch you. His lips not even an inch away from yours now „I can’t resist you anymore…“ he whispered almost inaudibly before he broke the guarding shield by pressing his lips on yours. You tasted the smoke on his tongue, the booze on his lips and the lust in his quiet moans. He pressed you against your door, your hands tangled up in his hair while he lifted you up, pulled you closer by your waist and opened the door for you to finally get in.

The two of you thought it was the first and last time that this had happened. But after just that one breathtaking night you shared, tangled up in your sheets, both of you carved for more. Therefore, drunk hookups turned into casually sleeping with each other. Eventually even when sober. You tried to keep it a secret, but the looks you gave each other and the ‘coincidently going home at the same time’ - every time - made your friends catch on rather fast. There was no denying that you had a thing for each other. But it was never anything too serious. Both of you just living in the moment. No rush and no need to put labels on a thing that could change any second. It was a fast life you had on the east coast. And it changed way faster than each one of you could have imagined.

After all you had to end your little ongoing amorous adventure for the simple reason that life had other plans for you. An opportunity to fulfill your career dreams coaxed you to move away. So that’s what you did. Leaving the barber boy alone in the city of the sun. And since you’ve been gone, shit quickly went down for him. Though you kept in touch with each other and though you told him ‚not to fuck up‘ , he changed when you left. So it wasn’t even a surprise when your cousin called you to tell you, that Jeff had to go to jail.

A few years later you sat in one of your favorite bars, enjoying the night with some of your closest friends. Pleased with where you were in live and what you have achieved in those past few years. You worked your butt off just to celebrate your promotion for a highly regarded position. A thousand cups of coffee, endless sleepless nights and sacrificed relationships finally paid off, just so you can finally celebrate your accomplishment. Yet your mood to party shifted when you saw a familiar face entering the crowded room. Happiness overcame you for a second, while you looked into those known and unmatchable deep brown eyes. How long has it been? You questioned yourself. Wanting nothing more than to catch up with the handsome man who you haven’t seen in ages.

But your mood quickly changed after you saw him holding hands with another girl, walking right behind him. It took a while for him to notice your presence in-between those random faces, but after your eyes met he didn’t hesitate to make his way up to you. And before your brain could deal with the situation and even before your feelings could cope with the shock, he was already standing in front of you. „Y/n!“ he said in excitement, giving you a one-armed hug. Yet that’s enough for you to take in his acquainted scent. Even though there is no more indication for the smell of cigarettes, it brought back so many old memories.

You tried to say something, but there was an ache in your throat that prevented you from making a sound. „She is an old friend of mine…“ he explained and avoided the possibility of an awkward moment of silence as well as introducing you to the girl which was standing right by his side. You waved at her, smiling politely after she introduced herself to you „How have you been?“ he asked you curiously with a big smile on his face, eyes lighten up when he put one of his arms around his company. You hesitated for a second, eyes pierced at his hand curving around the waist of the woman in his hold. Trying to manage the situation before you finally began to talk „I’m…“ you start, returning his gaze before recollecting yourself once again and starting anew, „I’m doing fine…“ you lied, a convincing smile conjured up on your face to conceal the sadness which was building up inside of you. „We should-“ he started, right before someone of his friends screamed his name. He apologized genuinely for the sudden interruption. However, he promised to catch up with you through the course of the night, before he left you and you friends alone.

„Who was that?“ a friend of yours asked you abuzz in excitement. „An old friend…“ you answered with a crack in your voice. Purposely repeating his words as your gaze followed his figure. You felt your throat closing with every step he took bringing distance between your bodies. You bit your inner lip, your eyes close to tears. But instead of drowning in melancholy you remembered the reason for your celebration. So you tried to stop the waiter just to ask her „Can we get another round of shots please?“

With every shot you took, you tried to forget about the looks he used to give you, when your eyes met his. Tried to forget about those late night walks on the beach, admiring the stars and talking about anything and everything. To forget how loved he made you feel when you shared a bed with him and spend days not leaving it. With every shot you just wanted to numb your heart the same way that the burning liquor was actually just numbing your brain.

It wasn’t a secret that you thought about him from time to time. His name popped in your head whenever you talked to your cousin, which wasn’t as often as it used to be, yet you asked yourself what Jeff has been up to, when Leo didn’t mention him. Because he was indeed your favorite memory of your days in Miami. Still wondering if your name ever crosses his mind. If he remembers the moments the two of you shared with each other. If those were happy reminiscences, or if you were not more than just a short fling for him.

As the night went on you tried not to be too obvious about your looks towards his new group of friends. However you were too nosey about where he was or what he was doing. That’s when you saw his face buried in the nape of her neck. He gave her little kisses on her throat until he made his way up to her lips. His eyes small, dimples deep and just full of happiness. The smile which was plastered on his face, one you knew just too well. Yet it wasn’t determined for you anymore. It felt like a thousand knives were stabbed in your body all at once. Like your lungs cut off all your air, stopping you from breathing, making you suffocate from the pain. You smiled approvingly at her after she glanced at you. Her eyes full of happiness, while yours almost begun to fill with tears.

Before things could get worse your body robotically squeezed itself through the masses of people until you made your way outside, trying to gasp for some air. Whilst you took a deep breath you felt your body calming down again.

You gave your thoughts the chance to understand and tried to comprehend the situation as you went to a nearby parking lot. Although you know you shouldn’t do it, your mind made you question yourself. What does she got that you don’t have? Comparing your noticeable similarities and your striking differences. Your eyes almost the same color. Is it because she is taller than you? Your hair about the same length. Or because she has a cuter nose then yours? After a few more terrible comparisons you realized that it doesn’t lead to anything. Besides everything that made him fall for her, she also had the courage to fall for the man you’ve always admired.

Your gaze went up to the sky, trying to see at least some starts in between the dirty nightlights. A few tears fell down your cheek as you thought about your days in Miami. But instead of feeling sorry for yourself, you tried to be happy for your friend. That, regardless how many wrong decisions he made, it ended more then well for him.

Right before you came clean with that and made your way back to the bar to continue the celebration, a familiar voice stopped you.

"y/n?"

#jeff wittek imagine #jeff wittek x reader #jeff wittek x you #jeff wittek #my post

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brownsugarcoffy · 3 years

Text

It Never Rains In Southern California - Part Two

Disclaimer: This imagine will contain profanity, hard language, sexual content.

Summary: You and Angel have broken up and while it was your choice, you miss him desperately. Although your pride was never going to let you go to him first, he decided to show up at your doorstep late night. An things began to get heavy.....

Characters: Black Reader × Angel Reyes

Part One

You looked away from Angel due to the close contact between you two. You were trying so hard to fight the urges to try not to give into your vulnerability and letting him see you break down right here. However, you realize you broke up with him and was soon on your way out of this hick town.

You yank away from Angel causing him to get more irritated with you. Rubbing your arm to smooth out the roughness." We have no business to handle Angel. You're drunk and I need to make sure you get home safe."

"I'm not drunk dammit! Tipsy yes, but drunk? No."

"I don't care! You need to leave!" You shouted with urgency. You try to move away from him to go get your phone from the bedroom, but pulled back towards him.

"Why do you keep pushing me away? Does it mean nothing to you that I came all the way here in the rain to check up on you? Do you really hate me that much?" You watch as Angel eyes begin to swell up with water. You were starting to hate yourself more and more. Why do you keep doing this to him?

He is trying his best to hold back his tears because he wasn't about to start showing his vulnerability to a woman who is basically acting as if they never shared a bed.

"Angel why are you really here?" You ignored all questions he just asked, hoping he would get so angry that he would want to leave. That he will finally give up on this conversation. Finally give up on you, but see Angel wasn't ready to give up just yet. He knew you hiding something deep down.

"Because….I missed you y/n. You don't visit pop’s shops anymore. EZ hasn't heard from you in a long time. You could be mad at me, but don't take it out on my family who loves you." Angel confession tugged your heart, causing you to slowly bring your guard down.

"Listen..you know I love Felipe and Ez. I wouldn't hurt them on purpose. I've just been busy with my grandmother & work." It was not the whole truth, but you have been picking up extra shifts at the hospital. Trying to earn enough money for your move, but the key point was keep yourself busy from thinking about Angel.

"Bullshit!" He barked.

"Excuse me?"

"Come on. I know your grandmother has been out for a couple of weeks and your cousin has been helping you take care of her. I also know you've been picking up shifts at work on purpose.” He objected to my answer.

“Who told you-”

“It doesn't matter who told me. It's the fact you just keep lying to me. Why? Why are you always running away?"

" I'm not running-"

"Shut up! There you go lying again. You think I don't know about you moving your ass up outta here." Silence filled the room as now the thunder was the only thing speaking. He knew about you moving and if it wasn't for him seeing your cousin at his father shop. You would have moved out of this town with a single word. It's what you did last time.

Always running scared with your tail between legs. Scared of actually dealing with your problems. Angel nodded to himself as he saw you struggle to come up with a good rebuttal. His eyes suddenly got widened; tears were streaming down your face as the wall you build came crashing down. It was the first time Angel saw you cry in a longtime.

" Baby…" Angel tried to touch your arm to console you, but you just put your hand up to stop him. If he touched you right now you'll be a hot mess. Your emotions will be out of your control and you wouldn't be able to stop it. He wanted to hold you at this moment. To let you know he's here and wants to protect you. He loves you so much, but you keep denying is breaking his heart every minute. Angel just needed to feel you. Not only for you, but for him.

So Angel walked up close to you, which made you step back. Now having two hands in front of you to keep Angel at bay. That didn't stop Angel. While he just kept his paced walking closer to you, you just kept moving back until your back hit the wall.

"Angel...please…." You begged him not to come closer; pushing his torso away from you, but your arms were weak. Angel took them and placed them at your side. You head low because you didn't want to look him in the eyes at your current state. Your tears just wouldn't stop no matter how much you tried.

“ Y/n look at me.” Angel commanded as his body is now towering over you.

“No.” Your defiance sounded strong, but there was something there that wobble; conforming some doubt.

“ Look at me!” Angel slammed his hand on the wall on the side of you. Which the sound off the wall syncs with the thunder that roars loudly. This caused you to bring your head up; you were now forcibly eye to eye with Angel. Angel was very pleased to finally see that pretty face he loved to wake up too.

“Now that I got your attention. Do you know why I put up with your shit y/n? Do you?” Your eyes averted away from him, but this only caused Angel to lightly take his hand onto your jaw and pull your face back to him. “Stop looking away from me... I put up with it because I love you. I know you're scared about this Mayans thing, but you got to trust me when I say I got this.”

“This isn’t easy for me okay! I want to believe you Angel, but what if you end up like my father. In a ditch somewhere-” The cry in your voice solidified with the amount of motivation it took you to succumb.

“Y/n….I’m not your father. I would never bring death at your doorstep. I’ll make sure you're protected at cost. Haven’t I always?” He stopped you before you could go any further. He never put his family in danger for his own personal gain. He wasn’t that type of man.

“Yes you always have.” You stated above a whisper while the tears kept falling down from your dark lashes.

‘Y/n…” Angel grasps your chin in his hand, taking his thumb to swipe away the wetness that ran down her cheek.” You're such a stubborn woman. I think you got me beat.” Angel slightly let a chuckle pass his lips. Giving a lighthearted aura as he pokes at you for fun.

“I can’t go through that pain again Angel.”

‘I won’t let you, but just talk things out with me. Don’t just go running away when things get rough and just disappear because that causes pain too. He drew his face closer to yours, nudging the tips of both of your noses. “ Don’t shut me out ever again because these two months without you really fucked me up.” He pleaded, while bringing his head to the crook of your neck. Taken in your natural scent, Angel was finally at home again.

“I won’t. I’m sorry.” Your breathlessly promised him your word. It felt so good to be in Angel arms again and how aches so many nights for this. Although your face was slowly drying up, your T- shirt began to soak up water coming off Angel clothes as your body was now pressed against his. The water touches your bare skin which gives you chills as cold air comes into play causing your nipples to be harder than what they were. You were about to call out to Angel, but that all fell through when Angel brought his lips to devoured yours.

A delicious moan escaped from your mouth as you allowed him to explore every corner of your mouth. His hands manage to slide up your thigh, it wasn’t long until you felt his nimble digits grip the hem of your shirt. His fingers lightly grazed your hip bone, which told you didn’t have on no panties. Angel propped his leg between you caused you to feel the friction on your core making you let out whimper in the kiss. In seconds the wetness between your legs began to leave a damp on Angel black denim jeans. Feeling your arousal ruin his jean, sparked his own. Causing his jeans to grow together by every second. This was it. He needs you in every way he can get you.

He interrupted the kiss, Angel grasped the back of your thighs and pushed them up. He bent down now having your legs swung over his shoulders. A grasp release from your mouth at the new position you were now put in. You quickly grip Angel's shoulders to steady your balance between you and the wall. With his thumb, Angel brushed the most sensitive part of you thinking of how he was going to have his meal.

“Please...baby.” You desperately moaned out causing you to throw your head back.

“Oh I’m baby now? I thought you were gonna call EZ to come and get me. What happened to that?” He taunted, forming a smirk on his lips.. Angel let his thumb rub against your clit once more just to tease you some more.

“Shit Angel stop it! I’m begging you!” You almost screamed as he was playing with all your emotions, but you guess it payback as you played with him first. Angel just responded with a chuckle while his lips began to get closer and closer to your core. His cool breath grazes her sensitive skin every second, giving her the sensation she is aching to have. Before he could feast he let out a warning to you.

‘Don’t fall or I’m gonna make you cry again. And this time your never gonna stop.”

Not Edited

TAGLIST: @mauvecherie @marvelmaree @blackmissfrizzle @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @starrynite7114 @montanaraed @sparklemichele @thelovelyleo23. @auroraariza. @tranqs-main-mami @trulysuccubus @rantfandombloggg @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo. @yeah-seems-legit. @night-of-the-living-shred

@hey-taylor-hey

#angel reyes x black!reader #mayans fanfic #angel reyes imagine

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itsallabigmess · 3 years

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The One With No Reason to Be Afraid

Seasonal Stories: Winter Requested by @delusionpuppy26 Jackson Wang X Female Reader 870 words.

When I was around seven or eight, my family decided to celebrate New Year’s Eve on the beach. I watched as my cousins blow fireworks from the sand and run around laughing, wishing I could join them. But my mother, in her super protective mode, decided it was better to scare me, telling me in detail about all the many ways I could get hurt.

That night I had a nightmare in which one of my cousins blew a rocket-shaped in my direction, and I got entirely burn. I have been afraid of fireworks ever since.

This year, I was happy to travel with some friends to celebrate in the countryside. Even if they decided to watch the fireworks show from the lake. Which was… fine. The fireworks were being blown from a raft in the middle of the lake. And even though I involuntarily jumped at each explosion, I was completely safe on the grass, behind tons of people who were way more excited than me.

It was going back to the Airbnb and find out the guys have bought some more fireworks that made me freak out. I can not blame them for wanting to have their drunk explosive fun. This is the first time I travel at this time of the year with them and I don’t think I ever mentioned this childhood trauma to anyone.

When they start to light them up, I take the cue and sneak inside the house. I’m very happy to have my own drunk fun alone in the kitchen. Where is warm and there are snacks and nothing that can blow me up – unless I start to overthink about it. Which I won’t, thanks to the bottle of wine I head to.

“Why are you here all alone?”, one of the guys, Jackson, asks, finding me sitting over the kitchen countertop. His eyes travel from the bottle of wine in my hands to my face and his eyebrow raises comically. “The year has barely begun, and you are already drowning your sorrows?”

“Considering how last year went, I think it’s only fair to start this one duly prepared,” I raise the bottle for Jackson before taking a long sip.

He laughs and shakes his head, but once he is standing in front of you, his expression has a pitch of concern. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, I just can’t be outside right now.”

“Why not?”

I tilt your head and sigh. I don’t really want to dive into why I am afraid of fireworks, at least not now, mostly because I don’t want to be teased by how silly it might be to him. But there is also no reason to lie to one of my best friends.

“I just don’t like fireworks. Not when they are too close,” I explain when I feel Jackson is about to comment about the lake.

Outside, another firework explodes, and I pretend to not be startled. Jackson bites his lower lip to contain his laugh.

“You looked like you were having at the lake,” he places his hands over my knees, squeezing them lightly as to reassure me.

“I like the colors and the shapes they form. I fucking hate that noise,” I close my eyes, shaking my head to the sound of another explosion.

“Hey,” Jackson steps closer, in between my legs, moves the bottle of wine from my hand to the countertop, and holds my shaky shoulders. His hands move up and down my arms until I feel less nervous. With soft eyes, he steps back, pulling me by holding my hands.

We head to the second floor, the room he is sharing with one of the other guys. The bed is unmade and their bags are open in one of the corners, clothes forming a messy pile over them. Jackson pulls the covers over the bed up and makes me sit on the edge. From his coat pocket, he takes his phone, connects it to a Bluetooth speaker over the bedside table, and loud music starts to play.

“You girls should have gotten this room,” he says, pulling the curtain to the side. I knew the house had a balcony. I just wasn’t sure who got the room with it. “It has the best view.”

From where I’m sitting I’m sure I would be able to see the lake in the distance once the morning arrives. Right now, I can see the colorful lights of the fireworks exploding, its sound being muffed by the closed windows and songs being played.

“Better?” Jacksons asks, sitting by my side, throwing his jacket behind him. You smile, elbowing his arm lightly. The room is warm and being there with him makes you feel safer from anything that could go wrong outside.

We watch the little show our friends are making but afterward, stayed in the room, half laying down, talking about whatever came to mind. Even if I knew I liked Jackson since the moment I met him, it was the first time I wondered how it would be like to kiss him. And by the way he is looking at my lips and pretending to not do so, I wonder if he is thinking the same thing.

#jackson wang #got7 #got7 jackson #jackson wang scenarios #got7 scenarios

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blackswaneuroparedux · 4 years

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Treat Your S(h)elf: I Drink Therefore I Am: A Philosopher’s Guide To Wine, by Roger Scruton (2009)

You could say that wine is probably as old as civilisation; I prefer to say that it is civilisation, and that the distinction between civilised and uncivilised countries is the distinction between the places where it is drunk and the places where it isn’t.

- Sir Roger Scruton, I Drink Therefore I Am: A Philosopher’s Guide To Wine

When I first got talked into investing in the dreams of my two cousins and their French families to continue to manage an old French vineyard I thought of Roger Scruton’s book. I already had this book on my shelf alongside his other works. Re-reading it nudged me to take a risk and go for it.

For one I have always loved wine and have drunk it from a very early age. Secondly what could be more cultured or civilising than to marry body and mind through the palate of philosophy and wine?

And finally, and perhaps more importantly, the opportunity to escape the madness of modernity - as well as make peace from war as a British combat veteran of the Afghan war by not so much as coming home but finding a new one - by getting back into nature with hard honest graft on the land that Mother Nature blesses. All of this I found especially appealing.

Of all the things we eat or drink, wine is without question the most complex. So it should not be surprising that philosophers from Plato and Socrates onwards to our contemporary times have turned their attention to wine: complex phenomena can lend themselves to philosophical speculation.

Wine is complex not just in the variety of tastes it presents – ‘wine tastes of everything apart from grapes’, I once heard a crusty old French vintner say – but in its meaning. Only the most woodenly literal-minded would deny that wine has a meaning: in its history, its role in human social life, in religious and other ceremonies. Though they drink it copiously over dinner at High Tables in their Oxbridge colleges, academic analytic philosophers do not spend as much time as they might in this kind of investigation of meaning or significance of wine – what we might call a phenomenology or a hermeneutic investigation.

Of course, there are more narrowly phenomenological questions which wine raises.

How do vintners or winemakers manipulate the underlying biochemical material to create the kinds of taste which they intend their wine to have? Does the ‘terroir’ of a wine really make a difference to taste, and if so how? What is the basis of evaluative judgements about the quality of a wine?

Arguably only those who actually make the wine and those who are life long wine connoisseurs can conceivably answer that on some experiential and technical level. But these are not the only philosophical questions in this area: the hermeneutic questions have their place too, in an understanding of the phenomena.

Sir Roger Scruton’s 224 page book is about the hermeneutics of wine rather than its psychology or phenomenology more narrowly conceived. Scruton, the late great conservative philosopher, is that rare breed who comes closer than most to bridging the gap between the grass roots and the High Table in answering such mysteries. The result is an engaging, insightful, informative and (in parts) a very funny book. It is immensely readable, more in the anecdotal style of Scruton’s England: an Elegy (2000) or On Hunting (1998), than his more heavyweight philosophical works, such as The Aesthetics of Music (1997), Sexual Desire (2004), Beauty (2009), and his writings on Wagner and high culture. He does often come across as curmudgeonly, but his (written) relations with women, music and poetry are very delicate and tender. And so it is with his love affair with wine. It is indeed a very personal book and its is warmly personable, like the man himself, and it contains so much of Scruton’s distinctive wit and intellectual personality, it ought to be of interest not just to wine enthusiasts (whom Scruton likes to call ‘winos’) and philosophers but also anyone curious enough to understand the place of wine in our world civilisation.

The first and obvious thing to say about Scruton’s book is how the title of the book is of course a play on words. It’s a playful wink to Eric Idle’s “Philosophers’ Drinking Song,” in which the Monty Python cast, lightly disguised as a group of Australian philosophers all named Bruce, list the world’s thinkers from a drinking standpoint. This includes the couplet slightly amending Descartes’s proof of his existence: “And René Descartes was a drunken fart / ‘I drink therefore I am.’”

The pun on words is Roger Scruton’s way of taking the Monty Python couplet seriously. After all Descartes was a serious man and though he was born in Touraine, the rich French wine region, did probably not drink much. He treats all this as a paradox that G.K. Chesterton might well have toyed with - that is, as a truth standing on its head to attract attention - and examines the drinking of alcohol as a way in which human beings learn more about each other, fellowship, some of the deeper realities, God, and not least themselves.

In this Scruton is a wise philosopher who teaches us how wine cultivates our moral virtue and our civilisation. He encourages us to recognise that stream of liquid descending from our pursed lips into our throat as the red or golden chord that runs from heaven to earth, and binds everything in-between into a cosmic whole. Wine both reflects and helps constitute our participation in all strata of reality, and points the way to our redemption, divine or otherwise.

In Scruton’s Prelude (a musical term, of course) where he quotes Emerson “who commends the great wino Hafiz [a Persian poet] in the following words: “Hafiz praises wines, roses, maidens, boys, birds, mornings and music, to give vent to his immense hilarity and sympathy with every form of beauty and joy.” This is echoed in Scruton’s terms that “by thinking with wine you can learn not merely to drink in thoughts, but think in draughts. Wine, drunk at the right time, in the right place and the right company, is the path to meditation, and the harbinger of peace.”

The book is divided into two parts, labelled ‘I drink’ and ‘therefore I am’ respectively. The second part of the book is more strictly philosophical - Scruton starts it with the nice conceit that ‘therefore I am’ contain the whole of philosophy, each word standing in turn for reason (therefore), consciousness (I) and being (am). But arguably wine and Scruton enthusiasts will probably get more out of the first part.

The first chapter is a nice description of his own discovery of wine as a young man. Warmly written, the chapter is devoted to his friends who made him “fall” for wine (or is it he who made them fall?) and his acquisition of a 1945 Château Lafite, “the greatest year from the greatest of clarets”. His first memories are happy ones of his mother’s home manufacture of elderberry wine in a post-war England where the French (and Spanish and Portuguese) grape had not yet “conquered the suburbs.”

“For three weeks the kitchen was filled with the yeasty scent of fermentation. Little clouds of fruit-flies hung above the jars and here and there wasps would cluster and shimmer on the spilled pools of juice.” Other Englishmen of Scruton’s generation will recognise and sigh at this description as many fathers - including my own - made his own beer and wine from motives of both fun and economy.

Thus ill-equipped, Scruton goes to university ignorant of the rich variety of wines available even then to an English wino. At Cambridge and, later, in Paris, a succession of tutors, patrons, and friends not only introduce him to a growing list of wines but also teach him how to drink them. Some of the wines he is given are complex and expensive Burgundies, others cheap French supermarket vin ordinaire.

But Scruton discovers that all have certain inherent qualities that an educated palate can discover by drinking them attentively and appreciatively. By learning their provenance and history, he enriches his knowledge of the locality that produced the wine — and he can imagine (I would like to believe this is so) that he can glimpse the character of the local people in the wine itself. He learns finally that certain wines go with certain things, not merely certain foods, but certain occasions, certain friends, certain thoughts, even certain topics of conversation. He becomes a wino.

When in his early middle years, Scruton buys a farm in southern England, he discovers to his delight an array of homemade-wine equipment, identical to that of his mother’s elderberry experiments, on the kitchen floor: “I listened to the bubbles as they danced in the valves, and studied the wasp-edged puddles on the tiles. I had come home.” Yet it is a different person who comes home. Scruton celebrates his good fortune not with elderberry wine but by opening and drinking in quiet happiness a treasured bottle of Château Lafite 1945 that had accompanied him in the long wanderings now ended. For, by this time in his life, Scruton is a confirmed Francophile in his drinking tastes.

The chapter ends on a remark concerned with the “new habit, associated with American wine critics like Robert Parker, of assigning points to each bottle” which should not only be “viewed with nothing but contempt” but also compared to “assigning points to symphonies, as though Beethoven’s 7th, Tchaikovsky’s 6th, Mozart’s 39th, Bruckner’s 8th all hovered between 90 and 95.

Perhaps his second chapter ‘A Tour de France’ is the best one. This is a very personal, but informative and interesting, guide to Scruton’s favourite French wine regions. starting in Burgundy, down to the Rhône Valley, the Pyrenees and ending in Bordeaux with T.S. Eliot’s description of a spiritual journey that applies equally to a journey through wine:

We shall not cease from exploration, And the end of all our exploring

 Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.

With much reason, Scruton does not think very highly of blind tasting: “To think that you can judge a wine from its taste and aroma alone is like thinking you can judge a Chinese poem by its sound, without knowing the language.” I let out a whoop of appreciation when I read this. In one clean swoop he casually casts aside the resultant snobbery that comes from the ritualising and self-importance of blind tasting events.

I think blind tasting whilst sincere is also an exercise in showing off. I’m not saying people don’t have a nose for wine or can tell certain elements but blind tasting is not the best way to truly appreciate the full complexity of wine. Indeed in my embryonic wine making experience (by watching my cousins and the managers on our vineyard) I would say terroir is perhaps one of the most overlooked aspects of wine making and it determines the difference between good wine and a bad one.

It’s great to read that Scruton defines himself as a terroiriste. Not the French word for a terrorist! But a believer in the French word, terroir. It is derived from the Latin word terra meaning earth or land. It’s a word coined by the French to express a wine’s sense of place. There is no English equivalent for this word. It was originally used to distinguish the wine making practices of old world wine. In other words terroir is how a particular region’s climate, soils and aspect (terrain) affect the taste of wine alongside the traditions gone into producing the wine. Some regions are said to have more ‘terroir’ than others. Johan Joseph Krug (1800–1866), the famous champagne producer, once suggested that “a good wine comes from a good grape, good vats, a good cellar and a gentleman who is able to coordinate the various ingredients.” No trace of terroir.

But I think Krug is wrong and vintners as well as the wine industry as a whole have come to the same realisation of the importance of terroir. Back in the 1980’s, many of these ‘terroir-driven’ wines were actually affected by wine faults including cork taint and wild yeast growth (brettanomyces). Vines thrive in a range of soil compositions from highly draining granite and schist based soils to limestone and clay and vines, in turn, react to these different soils in different ways. And on top of the differing soils, certain areas of the world have such unique combinations of geology and topography that interact with specific sun exposures that the resulting wines have distinct characteristics that cannot be found anywhere else.

Nowadays terroir is used to describe practically every wine region. Because much of European wine (old world) is steeped in tradition it is easier to get a sense of terroir. It’s a bit harder in a place like Napa or Sonoma (new world) because of the looser laws that govern winemaking but younger winemakers are coming around to the idea of terroir and trying to express the land. But certainly in France today vintners - as they come to increase their geological knowledge and environmental understanding and find ways to marry that to their unique artistry and craft - have realised the unique role terroir plays in the wine making process.

The next chapter looks at wine from “elsewhere:” Here Scruton looks at the Middle-East where wine was born; Greece where Bacchus, Dionysos, and more importantly, Eros used to hover; the United States; Australia, New Zealand and their misspelling of Syrah as Shiraz, the Iranian city of poets, gardens, nightingales and last but not least, wine; a few lines on South Africa, then Italy, Romania and Spain. But “travel narrows the mind, and the further you go the narrower it gets. There is only one way to visit a place with an open mind, and that is in the glass”.

Scruton had already warned the reader in the previous chapter not to read the “elsewhere” chapter: “After punishing body and soul with Australian Shiraz, Argentine Tempranillo, Romanian Cabernet Sauvignon and Greek Retsina, we crawl home like the Prodigal Son and beg forgiveness for our folly. . . [Bordeaux] is the wine that made us and for which we were made, and it often astonishes me to discover that I drink anything else.” I rather fancy he is being tongue in cheek here.

This is for the “I drink” part of the book. Its author then moves to the “therefore I am” part which often needs much deeper philosophical knowledge than perhaps than even your average educated layman might have some difficulty having if they are not versed in a basic understanding of aesthetics as philosophical discussion. But here his aim is to rescue wine from the philosophers and the so-called wine experts.

To those who have never been captivated by the complexity of wine and the way it is bound up with western civilisation, a book on the philosophy of wine might be dismissed as the typical product of conservative snobbery and elitism. But this would be a mistake. Scruton is not a snob about wine (nor, for that matter, about anything else). On the contrary, one of the strongest themes in his writing is his deep love of the everyday, of the simple pleasures of society as he imagined it once to be, where people were at one with the land and with the traditions of their culture. According to Scruton, this is something that (although it probably never existed) should be open to all, but which is being destroyed by the march of modernity. (In a nice aside, he asks: ‘Who am I to stand against the tide of history? Come to think of it, I am the only person I know who does stand against the tide of history’.)

In passing, Scruton evokes the great philosopher Avicenna who lived in Isfahan (Persia) during Islam’s Golden Age (980–1037 AD); he was a wine aficionado who recommended drinking at work defying “the Koranic injunction against wine, citing it as an example of sloppy reasoning,” that does not take into account whether it is a small or a large amount. Scruton (p. 133) also points to the fact that “in surah xvi, verse 7 of the Koran wine is unreservedly praised as one of God’s gifts. As the prophet, burdened by the trials of his Medina exile, became more tetchy, so did his attitude to wine begin to sour, as in Surah v verses 91-92. Muslims believe that the later revelations cancel the earlier, whenever there is a conflict between them. I suspect, however, that God moves in a more mysterious way.”

Scruton is very quite skeptical that the vocabulary used by so-called experts to describe wine is of much help: “If I say of a wine that it has a flowery nose, lingers on the palate, with ripe berry flavours and a hint of chocolate and roasted almonds, then what I say conveys real information, from which someone might be able to construct a sensory image of the wine’s taste. But I have described the taste in terms of other tastes, and not attempted to attach a meaning, a content, or any kind of reference to it. The description I gave does not imply that the wine evokes, means, symbolises or presents the idea of chocolate; and somebody who didn’t hit on this word as a description of the wine’s flavour would not show that he had missed the meaning of what he drank or indeed missed anything important at all. Our experience of wine is bound up with its nature as a drink [which] endows wine with a particular inwardness [and] intimacy with the body [that is not] achieved by any smell, since smell makes no contact with the body at all, but merely enchants without touching, like the beautiful girl at the other end of the party. . . Nothing else that we eat or drink comes to us with such a halo of significance, and by refusing to drink it people send an important message —the message that they do not belong on this earth.”

Again, I found myself saying amen to that.

The good part of the second part is Scruton trying to make a case for the cultural uniqueness of wine. In one sense, Scruton is right to do this: it is undeniable in many parts of western culture, wine has played a unique role in religious and social rituals, which no other drink has. But he can push his point beyond plausibility when he attempts to argue that because of the qualities of wine itself – and what it is to drink it properly – nothing else could play this role (more on this later).

The argument starts well, with a very illuminating discussion of the distinction between the various ways in which a substance can intoxicate. There are those that merely stimulate without altering the mind (like tobacco, for example). Then there are those which have mind-altering effects, but whose consumption itself brings no plea- sure (e.g. heroin). The third category contains those things which alter your mind and bring pleasure in their consumption: cannabis and forms of alcohol other than wine are his examples. Wine, Scruton argues, is in a fourth category of its own: here the alteration of the mind is internally related to the experience of consuming it.

These distinctions are very useful, and the distinction between the third and the fourth category is subtle but certainly real. It relates to the question of what non-human animals can and cannot do. Scruton makes the nice observation that an animal cannot savour wine (or any- thing else). In being able to savour or relish the taste of wine, a person no more separates out the effect of the wine from its taste than they can separate the meaning of a piece of music from its sound. Although one would not realise this from reading the thousands of words that are written daily about wine, wine would not be the drink it is if it did not intoxicate.

The last two chapters deal respectively with wine and whine, and being and bingeing. Though Scruton has something to say in favour of Puritanism, he castigates the ease with which “puritan outrage [and in particular, prohibition, but also sexual behaviour] can be displaced from one topic to another, and the equal ease with which the thing formerly disapproved of can be overnight exonerated from all taint of sin.”

He vehemently protests against “the humourless mullahs,” and the misuse of drinking, but also rejects the idea that fermented drinks are just shots of alcohol, and insists on their social functions across civilisations and time: “The burden of my arguments is that we can defend the drinking of wine, only if we see that it is a culture, and that this culture has a social, outward-going, other-regarding meaning. . . When people sit down together sipping drinks, they rehearse in their souls the original act of settlement, the act that set our species on the path of civilisation, and which endowed us with the order of neighbourhood and the rule of law.” But he has not much against drinking alone, and ends with a few words from the Chinese poet Li Po (700 BC), the same poet whom Mahler used in his Lied von der Erde (though in a very approximate translation):

A cup of wine, under the flowering trees; I drink alone, for no friend is near. 

Raising my cup I beckon the bright moon,

For he, with my shadow, will make three men.

Scruton points out in several brilliant passages, the prohibitionist, like the modern day Islamists and moral police in the West and the all too familiar binge-drinker are alike in their ignorance of the virtue of “temperance.” They can envisage no stopping place between abstention and alcoholism. Their absolutist logic, he argues, is like objecting to a first kiss on the grounds that it will one day lead to a divorce. And neither can really understand drinking for any reason other than to get drunk.

Scruton confirms the wider value of temperance in our lives: “Virtue should be cast in human form if it is to be humanly achievable. Saints, monks, and dervishes may practice total abstinence; but to believe that abstinence is the only way to virtue is to condemn the rest of mankind. Better to propose the way of moderation, and live thereby on friendly terms with your species.”

As it happens, the occasional bender may actually have therapeutic qualities in moderation (i.e., if indulged in infrequently). George Orwell, who can hardly be accused of lacking a puritanical streak, thought that people should get drunk every six months or so. The experience, he thought, shook one out of one’s regular complacency and could be compared in this to a weekend abroad. Certainly it very often produces a feeling of greater humility in those who can remember what happened. Yet getting drunk is something that most drinkers do very rarely, if at all.

Changing our mood and outlook is a very different matter. Under the influence of a moderate amount of alcohol, our inhibitions are loosened. Shy people become bold, the tongue-tied talkative, the dull lively, the unimaginative fanciful, and the isolated social. (Even “mean drunks” usually start the evening in festive and forgiving mood.)

That last loss of inhibition is the most important because it promotes the fellowship that is the basis of a decent society. Not all intoxicants perform this vital function. Cannabis and similar drugs tend, if anything, to imprison the taker within his own consciousness (however expanded it may seem to him in his dreams). Except for those who lose themselves in alcoholism (and consequently become asocial in their attempts to deceive others about their condition), however, alcohol is a profoundly social drug. At the same time, not all varieties of alcohol are equally social in their effect. This thought leads Scruton to narrow somewhat the scope of his enthusiasm. Having rejected teetotalism, he continues: “The real question, I suggest, is not whether intoxicants, but which. And - while all intoxicants disguise things - some (wine preeminently) also help us to confront them by presenting them in re-imagined and idealised forms.”

Scruton makes a fascinating and intriguing point related to our historical relationship with the vine to make wine the highest ideal form. He claims that wine derives from a crucial historical transition in our relation to the earth – when human beings settled, put down roots and stopped being mere hunter-gatherers. In a memorable phrase, Scruton claims that in this way wine celebrates ‘the earth itself, as the willing accomplice in our bid to stay put.’ But of course one could say similar things about distilled spirits and beer. Such drinks are not made in such an incredible variety as wine is, but Scruton’s point is not about variety but about the intrinsic and relational qualities of the drink itself.

In the end, one cannot help feeling that he is relying a little too much on the sheer panache of his writing to help his argument bounce along: ‘Wine is not simply a shot of alcohol, or a mixed drink. It is a transformation of the grape. The transformation of the soul under its influence is merely the continuation of another transformation that began maybe fifty years earlier when the grape was first plucked from the vine.’ Wine is a transformation of the grape, to be sure. And the mind or soul is transformed in its consumption. But these two transformations are so very different that it is hard to see what can literally be meant by the one being the continuation of the other.

In fact, Scruton’s view is not just that wine is unique as a stimulant, but that it has to be drunk in a particular way in order for the harmony of taste and intoxication to take hold. It is not hard to agree with Scruton’s argument that there are more or less civilised ways of drinking wine. And this part of his thesis is very plausible: ‘The burden of my argument is ... that we can defend the drinking of wine, only if we see that it is part of a culture, and that this culture has a social outward-going, other-regarding meaning. The new uses of wine point towards excess and addiction: they are moving away from the old way of drinking, in which wine was relished and savoured, to the form of drinking typified by Marmeladov, who clutches his bottle in a condition of need.’

However I still found all this a tad unconvincing in that he makes a case that only the savouring and relishing of wine can play a central cultural role as opposed to other spirits - think of Scotch whisky for the Scots and beer for much of Northern Europe or even tea(!) for the English. So my apologies to Roger Scruton but I remain sceptical of his argument that of all stimulants, wine is uniquely civilising, however much I want it to be true.

I think Scruton is also wrong to despise cocktails. A well-made cocktail is as complex a set of taste experiences as a good Bordeaux. A good-strength cocktail is the perfect prelude to the theatre, giving one exactly the right lift to help the play to entertain, but not suppressing one’s appetite long enough to spoil a post-theatre dinner. It can be the booster rocket that starts a convivial evening. But the cocktail has its limits. The alcoholic strength of most cocktails reduces their usefulness both as an aid to sustained fruitful conviviality and to the kind of imaginative introspection that Scruton thinks necessary for a happy life.

That aside, Scruton knows that the best (including Li Po’s poetry) should be kept for the very end. The bouquet (of the wine, but in French the word is also used for the finishing of a firework) comes with the Appendix: What to drink with what, though here the second what does not stand for food, but for philosophers. This part of the book I very nearly coughed up my wine as I found it terribly amusing to pair a suitable wine, as one would with food, to a philosopher one might be reading.

St Augustine: Drink a glass of Moroccan Cabernet Sauvignon, though “the City of God requires many sittings, and I regard it as one of the rare occasions when a drinking person might have legitimate recourse to a glass of lager [which I did in Odessa, while reading Scruton], putting the book to one side just as soon as the glass is finished” [which I did not do, since I had three glasses, each of which containing half a liter].

Francis Bacon: “Any discussion of his insights should, I think, proceed by the comparative method. I suggest opening six bottles of a single varietal—say Cabernet Franc- one from the Loire, one from California, one from Moravia, one from Hungary, and if you can find two other places where it is grown successfully you will already have given some proof of the inductive method—and then pretending to compare and contrast, taking notes in winespeak, while downing the lot.”

René Descartes: “As the thinker who came nearest, prior to the Monty Python, to stumbling on the title of [my] book, Descartes deserves a little recognition. . . He has ended up as the most overrated philosopher in history, famous for arguments that begin from nothing and go nowhere. I would suggest a deep dark Rhône wine [that] will compensate for the thinness of the Meditations.”

Baruch Spinoza: “The last time that I understood what Spinoza meant by an attribute it was with a glass of red Mercurey, Les Nauges 1999. Unfortunately, I took another glass before writing down my thoughts and have never been able to retrieve them.”

Immanuel Kant: “And when it comes to [his] Critique of the Judgment, I find myself trying out [several wines], without getting any close to Kant’s proof that the judgment is universal but subjective, or his derivation of the ‘antinomy of taste’— surely one of his most profound and troubling paradoxes, and one that must yield to the argument contained in wine if it yields to anything.”

Friedrich Nietzsche: “Although we should drink to the author of The Birth of the Tragedy, therefore, it should be with a thin, hypochondriac potion, maybe a finger of Beaujolais in a glass topped up with soda-water.”

Edmund Husserl: “I recommend three glasses of slivovitz from Husserl’s native Moravia, one to give courage, one to swallow down the jargon, and one to pour over the page.”

Jean-Paul Sartre: “Sartre’s great work of philosophy, L’être et le néant, introduces the Nothingness that haunts all that he wrote and said. . . If ever I were to read Sartre again, I would look for a 1964 Burgundy to wash the poison down. Small chance of finding one, however, so there is one great writer whom I shall never again revisit—and I thank God for it.”

Martin Heidegger: “What potion to complement the philosopher who told us that ‘nothing noths’? To raise an empty glass to one’s lips, and to feel it as it travels down—noth, noth, noth, the whole length of the tube: this surely is an experience to delight the real connoisseur.”

In conclusion I really enjoyed reading this book (again and again).

This is a wonderful book for anyone who loves wine and wants to try identify what, in all its complex connections with so much of what is valuable in civilisation, might be special about drinking it. I think he does a wonderful job in looking at the philosophical and religious questions related to wine, from the Koranic injunction against alcohol to the true nature of temperance. These questions take us far from the vineyard at times, making excursions into terroir as different as Wagnerian music dramas and the philosophical nature of smells. His arguments as well as his beautiful prose are fresh, original, teasingly provocative, but also joyous.

This book is only about 224 pages but fun to read either in one sitting or dipping in and out at pleasurable intervals.

There are pages of useful advice on what wine to buy that are also glimpses into what to look for in the wine. I think his recommendations are good ones even if he leans too heavily into French wines. As someone who co-owns a vineyard I can say with reasonable confidence that I know my French wines but also wine from South Africa but confess my ignorance of wines from the new world such as California or Chilean wines. But I see that as an opportunity to discover rather than stay in my comfort zone. Here Scruton gently prods you along to do just that.

As an aside Scruton, who never shies away from his staunchly conservative Tory beliefs, perhaps forget to mention one juicy vignette in that Karl Marx’s political and philosophical ideas were probably inspired by wine. Indeed Karl Marx’s family were the happy owners of a vineyard in Trier, a small affluent Rhineland city, on the rolling hills of the Mosel River Valley. The family sold it due to hard times. Then as now these vineyards of the Mosel Valley remain mostly small-scale, are still known for their fruity white wines, and especially their lemony Rieslings and agrotourism. It seems the politics of wine (tariffs and import taxes) played a larger role in the history of leftist thought than their quaint appearance might suggest. In the early 1840s, the economic struggles of these very vineyards inspired Marx to criticise the draconian Prussian government - and in the process, some historians argue, begin developing the theory of historical materialism for which he is best known. In fact there is a delightful book I can recommend written by Jens Baumeister called, ‘How Wine Made Karl Marx a Communist’ (2018) if anyone is interested in reading more about that.

Of course it’s always hard to know how seriously one is supposed to take Scruton in some of his more extravagant comments in the book, like many things he says in his other books: ‘you could say that wine is probably as old as civilisation; I prefer to say that it is civilisation, and that the distinction between civilised and uncivilised countries is the distinction between the places where it is drunk and the places where it isn’t.’ His desire to outrage and court controversy rises to the surface, and can result in some of the funniest moments in the book. But as with everything he writes, some of Scruton’s claims must be taken with a pinch of salt or more appropriately, with a glass of claret.

Indeed I prefer to picture his words as if he was one’s old and familiar drinking companion sitting on weather beaten leather chairs and making provocative but teasingly good natured remarks out of a desire to amuse rather than to be boorish or loutish. Indeed this book is best enjoyed with a glass of wine on hand whilst sitting on a comfy old worn out leather chair curled next to log burning fire as the light dims outside.

I would whole heartedly agree with Roger Scruton that wine is a “drink that causes you to smile at the world and the world to smile at you.” Instead of imprisoning you inside a solitary introspection, it takes you out of yourself - and your ideas with you - to mingle with others and their ideas. Wine is therefore a voyage of discovery - and rediscovery - in many senses. And for this I can happily raise my own glass and say amen to that.

But what glass of wine would I raise when reading Scruton’s own book?

Well, one bottle won’t do. So temperance is out of the window then - sorry Roger. You will need a good French Sauternes or Barsac (preferably 2014) with the nostalgic autobiography, a finely bodied Bordeaux wine (I would go with a more complex wine from Saint Emilion) with the philosophy section of the book, and a champagne (of course) to drink with the philosophical jokes towards the end of the book.

Oh go on then, finish off with a tipple of Cognac before bed time, I am sure Scruton wouldn’t begrudge anyone that pleasure.

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cassidyconner · 4 years

Photo

Imagine: M’Baku asks T’Challa to find his missing sister. And ends up falling for her.

(Published under the title I Am on Wattpad, Fanfiction and Ao3)

M'Baku

The Jabari Tribe are exceedingly proud independent people, especially their leader, M'Baku. Ever since they were children, T'Challa and M'Baku had this friendly rivalry. As they got older, that childish rivalry became a bit more serious when it came to Wakanda.

While all the other tribes respected the current royal family and the technological advancements, the Jabari were the opposite. They rarely leave the mountains, but they watched. When King T'Chaka died and T'Challa was to be made King, M'Baku did not hesitate to challenge him for the throne. However, T'Challa did bested him in the challenge. He could’ve killed M'Baku right then and there but didn’t.

He yielded.

And at that moment, he owed the King a life debt.

When T'Challa was found among the riverbanks by the fisherman, M'Baku repaid that debt.

And now for the first time in years, the Jabari sat in the council along with the other tribes.

But there was something else on M'Baku’s mind that caused him to miss the conversation between the other Elders. He could tell that T'Challa knew something was bothering him. M'Baku hated himself for letting his guard, especially in front of T'Challa. But he needed something from the King.

After all, he did aid in helping to take back the throne from an outsider who happened to be the King’s own cousin.

When the meeting was dismissed, M'Baku and T'Challa were the only ones who remained seated. Beside them were several members of the Dora Milaje.

T'Challa was the first to speak. “You didn’t speak much today. I sense that something else is on your mind.”

“You can say that.” M'Baku shrugs. He makes eye contact with him. “Do you remember Amani?”

“Yes. Your sister.” T'Challa nods softly. “I know you lost her years ago- ”

“She never died.” M'Baku admits, looking down. He’s ashamed for having to lie that his beloved baby sister was dead. He looks up to see the confusion on T'Challa’s face.

“She was always a stubborn child. Always sneaking off the mountains to play with you.” There was this tight feeling in his chest, but he ignored it. “After my father died and I took over, I became…very protective of Amani. She started to resent me for it. I guess now thinking about it, I was overbearing. One day she just left.”

“How long has she been missing?”

“For ten years. She was no older than your own sister.” M'Baku says.

“M'Baku. I am very sorry that you been keeping this secret for years.” T'Challa said. “But I am not sure what you are trying to ask for me.”

“Find her. Please. It kills me every day of not knowing if she’s alive or joined our ancestors.” M'Baku was close to begging. “You have the technological advancements to do so.”

“I’ll do my best to help.”

M'Baku feels as if a small portion of his burden is lifted off his shoulders. - Shelby

Shelby hated serving guest at Anton’s parties. Tonight, however, was a small dinner party of six of his colleagues. Of course, she would rather deal with the big parties his wife loves to throw for whatever reason. The woman would throw a party if she went a day without an alcoholic drink.

As Shelby silently refilled one of the guest waters, a hand lightly caresses her thigh. She didn’t react to his touch as she is not allowed to react nor speak when he’s around. The mere touch of his fingertips makes her want to retract her skin.

“Thank you so much, Shelby.” He tells her. She nods silently and retreats to her place in the corner of the room. “She’s such a lovely girl, Anton. And soft too.”

Anton didn’t look up from his plate. “I had her for years, Elias. She didn’t come let that. You have to get ‘em while their young.”

Dinner itself lasted for another hour before Anton had Shelby clear the table of leftover food and dishes.

While his wife was passed out drunk on their bed, Anton Pretorius came into Shelby’s later that night. When this happens, Shelby goes to a special place in her mind. A place where no one, not even Anton, can hurt her.

A dense jungle with nothing but the sounds of the gorillas pounding on their chest. The panthers hunting and hiding within the bushes. She always dreams of this special place. It was almost as if she been there before.

“Amani, where’s your brother?”

“Up in the mountains,”

“Jabari never leaves the mountains.”

The girls laugh at the boy. “Well this Jabari did, Ikati*.”

“Don’t call me ikati.”

“Oh T-”

Shelby’s body shook with spasms. A soft low moan escapes her lips. Damn him. Damn him for ruining her fantasy. Damn him for taking away that one special place she could go to. Fucking damn him and his friends to the depths of hell.

#T'Challa x black reader #t'challa x plus size reader #black panther imagine #black panther fanfiction #black panther x reader

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kixa · 3 years

Text

MSBY @ thanksgiving w/ a black s/o

*based on my thanksgiving*

*I’m only doing Bokuto, Atsumu, Sakusa, and Hinata because I don’t rlly know the other players*

warnings: none a lil cursing ig 🤷🏿‍♀️

header source: mei_HQ (@AMeihq)

Bokuto:

⭐︎ baby boy is so excited

⭐︎ This is not his first time meeting your family, so of course he knows what he’s getting into

⭐︎ He loves everything your family makes

⭐︎ Occasionally he’ll want to bring a dish of his own preferably something from his culture

⭐︎ He absolutely loves pie all of them btw (pumpkin, sweet potato, pecan, and apple) my mom makes the best apple pie ong

⭐︎ But sadly when he asks about the food he doesn’t realize it’s all homemade so he just assumes that the stuffing, greens, and pies are from cans *meaning all the food is store-bought*

⭐︎ Ok so Bo doesn’t really understand black people time, so if your family says they’re eating at 3 they’re lying you’re eating at 9/10 at night, but he insists y’all get there early, like no babe if we get there at three the turkey’s not even in the oven.

⭐︎ The aunts absolutely adore him, even the messy ones

⭐︎ Like if the aunts are loud he’s right with them

⭐︎ So do the little cousins, he gives them piggy back rides and listens to their stories from school (great dad material *wink*)

⭐︎ My mom loves to decorate, so whenever he comes over he gushes over the decorations talking about how cute they are.

⭐︎ He loves playing games with the family, especially spades or pokeno because that’s usually when everyone gets tipsy and things get fun

⭐︎ He’s definitely not shy that’s why your family loves him so much because he knows how to hang

⭐︎ He gets so happy when they ask him about volleyball cause that means that you talk about him often

⭐︎ If you guys have been together for some time and he asks what certain foods are, your family will look at you like you’re crazy because how have you been with him this long and ain’t never made him pie or greens

⭐︎ “I’m sorry baby, y/n ain’t never made you no soul food like this before, y/n you ain’t been feeding this boy?”

⭐︎ “Wait no I do, I feed him come on grandma. Bo don’t I fee-“ *she pulls Bo to her height* “Baby if she ain’t feeding you you let me know so I can hook you up,” and Bokuto just nods and laughs

⭐︎ When grandma motions for him to get up and dance with her he’s kind of hesitant but goes anyway, so he holds her hands and they sway to Luther Vandross

Atsumu:

⭐︎ Ok so all the aunties love him like we been known he’s a ladies man🥱

⭐︎ Believe it or not he’s actually pretty shy to meet your family

⭐︎ That man who’s ego is the size of a whale’s is suddenly the meekest person in the room

⭐︎ Like he’s doing that knee thing ppl do when they’re nervous and he’s gripping the steering wheel pretty hard type nervous

⭐︎ When y’all get there your grandma is coming to give you a hug and he just stands there a lil awkwardly like: 🧍‍♂️

⭐︎ But omg he’s surprised when your grandma makes her way to him to give him big hug as a way to welcome him into the family

⭐︎ He’s so polite when asks for stuff, calling people Ms. And Mr.

⭐︎ He wants to make the best impression aw baby

⭐︎ Honestly his fav food has to be the greens omg he loves them (when made the right way greens are delicious)

⭐︎ But he literally asks for everything on his plate; greens, mac & cheese, ham, turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes, relish, rolls, etc. the list goes on

⭐︎ When everyone started eating it was a whole lot of smacking and no dialogue but then the jokes and reminiscing started to flow meanwhile he stayed silent the whole time just lightly smiling at everyone

⭐︎ So when someone turned to ask him a question about volleyball or y’all’s relationship he damn near chokes on his food

⭐︎ But when he talks it’s just very formal and stiff

⭐︎ I think baby was just overwhelmed

⭐︎ But back to all the aunties loving him, yeah so they talk him up and gush over his looks and muscles

⭐︎ And he’s blushing up a storm because of the constant compliments plus they were loud so now everyone’s attention was on him

⭐︎ For some reason he is a monster at uno like baby boy destroys everyone every time

⭐︎ So of course your family is highly shocked because who would’ve known that the shy closed off bf of yours would be eating ppl up in a card game

⭐︎ Meanwhile he’s asking for another plate

⭐︎ Overall he loves how friendly and funny your family is, he was going around to everyone who had cooked and complimented their food generously

⭐︎ But omg in the car he’s so happy and food drunk that he’s just murmuring how much this was the best thanksgiving he had

Sakusa:

⭐︎ So of course he’s quiet with his mask (omg he looks so intimidating to me bye)

⭐︎ When the family asked him questions and most of his answers were just one word

⭐︎ So for the majority of the night he didn’t really say anything

⭐︎ But omg is he cute, he would literally follow you around because he’s a little anxious to be alone with your family

⭐︎ When y’all get plates he takes such small portions, and grandma caught him, saying “Oh no baby you’re all skin and bones get some more” then proceeds to put giant ass helpings off all the foods on his plate

⭐︎ He just looks at her, the plate, then you lol

⭐︎ Basically grandma takes care of him the whole night and he’s just dazed

⭐︎ She even takes him into the kitchen to make sweet potato pie with her, and grandma doesn’t let anybody help her make this pie

⭐︎ Everyone’s like 😧

⭐︎ He’s very hesitant but helps anyway by mashing up the sweet potatoes (he’s a pro baking idc idc)

⭐︎ Plus he has nice hands oop

⭐︎ He honestly looks so happy and he’s even smiling a lil aw

⭐︎ I think he was just so happy, even though he’s been kind of offstandish all night your family never gave up on him

⭐︎ So when the pie was done your grandma thanked him and gave him a grandma kiss on the cheek he was so shocked (blushing like crazy)

⭐︎ Now everyone was talking to him asking more questions and he was answering them a little better (he was highkey nervous)

⭐︎ Believe it or not he brought mahjong with him and wanted to play with everyone but was too nervous to ask

⭐︎ Once you brought it up everyone was cool with it, but little did he know he had a little competition for being the ultimate player

⭐︎ So now the game is still ongoing with him and your mom playing

⭐︎ To sum this up he was very nervous at first so he gave off an intimidating vibe but after spending time with grandma he warmed up a lot

⭐︎ Him and grandma are besties now so he talks to her all the time and they have scheduled baking days bye

Hinata:

⭐︎ Just like Bokuto he is overly hyped he was literally jumping in the car he was so excited

⭐︎ And you have to warn that your family can be a lil oc

⭐︎ He genuinely didn’t know what you were talking about because as soon as your aunt opened the door she gave him a big hug

⭐︎ He had the biggest smile he was so happy

⭐︎ Mind you he has never met your family, but he was still greeting everyone shaking peoples’ hands receiving hugs

⭐︎ When they ask about you guys you let him do all the talking and he just goes on and on about how much he loves and appreciates you

⭐︎ Everyone adores him they find him so sweet and energetic he fits in the family just right

⭐︎ Oh and my boy knows music so y’all are playing oldies and he’s singing right along with them

⭐︎ Hinata is more of aMac & cheese type guy so mans is fucking that shit up, after his 5th helping you had to stop him lol

⭐︎ But he loves all the food and he’s complimenting everyone on the food boosting peoples’ egos and shit

⭐︎ Bruh he is love with the apple pie, he almost fell out it was so good (he found your mom and requested a pie for his birthday)

⭐︎ He had to move to the couch because he had a literal food coma and needed a nap

⭐︎ While he was sleep everyone was just gushing over him, asking how he was so sweet

⭐︎ After his power nap y’all played spades, he was kind of lost so grandma helped him out he got it pretty quickly though

⭐︎ He mainly did all the talking that night even talking about MSBY and volleyball

⭐︎ To me Hinata is like a child even in time skip so he gets along with the children so well

⭐︎ When it was time to go he was so sad he didn’t want to, he enjoyed himself to much plus he was in love with your family

⭐︎ So basically he was pouty the whole ride back to the hotel

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atlafan · 4 years

Text

Take it Slow - Part Seventy-One

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Fluff and smut.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

“Harry!” You call for him from the bathroom. Saturday morning, the day of your house warming party. “Harry Edward Styles!”

He comes running in from the kitchen, almost slipping since he had socks on his feet. You were looking at yourself in the mirror.

“What? What is it?”

“You just haaaaad to fuck my neck up last night, right? You couldn’t have taken your fucking rings off?”

“I didn’t hear you complaining while I was doin’ it.” He says with a smirk.

“Couldn’t exactly talk, could I?”

“I never choke you hard enough that you can’t speak, come on.” He steps into the bathroom to look at the bruises on your neck. “Shit.”

“See!” You groan. “I wouldn’t care, but it’s too hot to wear a scarf, and you know, my entire fucking family is coming later. I can put some makeup on, but it’ll only help so much.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No…” You look at him. “Ugh, why do we have to be into such hard shit, why can’t we just like do it and be dainty?” Harry starts laughing.

“Wouldn’t be very satisfying would it?” He gives your bum a smack and leaves you in the bathroom.

You sigh heavily and go out to the kitchen where Harry was making banana pancakes. You sit up on the counter next to him. You were only wearing one of his white t-shirts and a pair of his black boxers.

“You should get dressed.” He says as he flips a pancake.

“Why’s that?”

“Because you look too sexy in my clothes and I’m gonna have to fuck you, and we just don’t have the time. We have to eat, get dressed, and then go to the store to pick up all the food we ordered for the party.” He looks you up and down. “So go change.”

“Harry…you’re standing there in a pair of boxers, and you’re telling me I need to change?”

“You have more self control than I do.” He flips another pancake.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” He gets all the pancakes onto a plate and turns the stove off.You hop off from the counter and stand in front of him.

“See, I really don’t think I do. I think you have way more self control than I do.” You start palming him through his boxers.

“We really don’t have time.”

“Oh honey, I only need five minutes.”

You kneel in front of him and tug his boxers down slightly. You don’t waste anytime licking up and down his shaft. He grips the handle on the oven when you wrap your lips around his tip and suckle on it. You grip his thighs and take him deeper down your throat.

“Ah!” He moans. “Y/N.”

You swallow and he bucks his hips forward. You bob up and down on him quickly. You groan against him and cradle his balls.

“Fuck!”

He comes in your mouth, and you take all of it. You swallow with him in your mouth, and suck on him still.”

“Please.” He breathes.

You come off him and stand up. You wipe the corners of your mouth and reach around him to grab a pancake, biting into it.

“Mm, so good Harry, you’re such a good cook.” His mouth hangs open. “Well don’t just stand there, we need to eat, get dressed, and then go pick up all the food.”

Buster was being such a good boy while you and Harry ran around getting everything together. People would start showing up in an hour or so. You were in the bathroom pressing concealer to your neck.

“Okay, how’s it look? I think with my hair down it should be fine.”

“I don’t think anyone will notice, especially since you look so cute.”

You were wearing a cute light blue sundress with small white polka dots. Harry was wearing a pair of pastel purple slacks with a white shirt tucked in. Top buttons undone so you could just see the top of his butterfly tattoo.

“God, you look handsome.”

“You don’t think I should button up a bit?”

“No the whole outfit works better this way. And your pearls look so nice with it too.”

You both walk out to the living room and wait for people to show up.

Niall and Sarah came over first so you’d have a buffer. The boys were talking about their upcoming trip while the two of you were outside on the balcony.

“I’m gonna say it, Harry looks really hot.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” You both giggle. “He had his glasses on earlier with the entire ensemble, and oh my god, he looked like a really sexy teacher or something.”

“What is it about a man in glasses? I love when Niall wears his.”

“Hey babe?” Harry says coming out to you both.

“Yeah?”

“Erica and her boyfriend just got here.”

“Oh! Okay.” You stand up and Sarah follows you in.

You greet the two of them and start showing them around. Buster follows close next to you. Your mom and Bridget show up next, followed by your Aunt and Uncle. Kyle, Lora, and Michael are the last of your family to show up. Mariah and Rachel, Louis and Eleanor, and a few other friends all show up around the same time.

Your great uncle, his wife, and your cousins all show up as well. It was definitely a packed house. You were having a great time showing everyone around, and grateful that Buster was being so well behaved.

Erica can’t help but keep squinting at your neck. She could tell you had makeup on, but she couldn’t really understand why you would need it on your neck. She comes over closer to you to join the conversation you were in, just so she could get a better look.

“I got it for him in Aruba, isn’t it beautiful.” You were showing Louis and Eleanor the sunflower ring you had gotten for Harry.

Erica’s eyebrows raise when she looks at Harry’s rings, and then your neck. She walks away and goes to talk with Kyle. Most of the people were in the living area and balcony. Many of the kids around were playing with Buster.

“Harry, could you grab me another seltzer from the fridge?” You ask him.

“Sure! Be right back.”

There weren’t any people in the kitchen, so Erica and Kyle follow Harry in. He jumps when he sees them behind him.

“Um, hey, you guys havin’ fun?”

“Yeah, it’s a great party.” She squints at him.

“Can, I get either of you anything? The coolers should be full of drinks, Y/N just wanted hers in here.”

“Harry, we need to ask you something.” Kyle says, stepping closer to him.

“Sure, anythin’.”

“Are you hurting our sister?” Erica asks.

“What?” He looks at the two of them in complete shock. “No, why would either of you think that?”

“She has makeup all over her neck, and the spots look like where your rings would be.”

“Listen, uh-“

You walk into the kitchen.

“Babe, what’s…what’s going on in here?” You walk over to the fridge and grab your seltzer. You crack it open and take a sip.

“They asked me if I’ve been hurtin’ you cause your sister saw the makeup on your neck.” Your cheeks heat up.

“Oh my god.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Are you two stupid? Why would we invite you all hear if he was abusing me?”

“I’ve read before that people who have been abused in the past tend to-“

“Erica, I’m gonna stop you right there.” Harry says. “I am not, and would never hurt your sister in any way.”

“Then why’s her neck look like that?” Kyle asks. You more your hair to over it more.

“Are you sure you wanna know the answer to that?” You ask with red cheeks.

“What possible other explanation could there be?” Erica asks.

“Harry, leave the room, I can’t tell them with you standing here.”

“Oh my god.” He says and leaves through the other door. You take a deep breath.

“Sometimes…when we’re intimate…Harry and I…lightly…choke each other.”

“What?!” They say in unison.

“It doesn’t happen all the time, just sometimes. And we do it to each other, he doesn’t always do it to me. It just sort of happened last night, and he forgot to take his rings off so it looks worse than it is. It doesn’t hurt, I promise.”

“Who are you?!” Erica asks. “You like that sort of thing?”

“It’s really not that weird, a lot of people do it.” Harry comes back in to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, this is such a weird conversation. I don’t think we need to explain what goes on between us. Like she said, no one’s gettin’ hurt.”

“It doesn’t trigger you?” She asks.

“No.” You look over at Kyle who looks like he’s trying not to laugh. You both burst out laughing.

“You know what, I don’t care what the fuck you two do.” Kyle says. “Just glad you’re not beating on my sister.” Kyle says and walks out of the kitchen.

“I’m gonna go see if anyone needs anything.” Harry says and leaves again.

“You know, you could’ve just asked me instead of confronting him.”

“I panicked! I feel like I don’t even know you sometimes.” She sighs.

“Erica, we’re two very different people. I’m sure there are things you do with your boyfriend…”

“How does that even come up? Like, hey babe let’s try choking each other.” You can’t help but giggle.

“It’s a heat of the moment type of thing. We talk through it, make sure the other is okay.”

“And you do it to him too?”

“Yup.”

“Jesus.”

“We like what we like, and that’s okay.” You put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t like it? Don’t have someone choke you.” She rolls her eyes at you and you both laugh.

Luckily, that was the only hitch in the party. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. There was plenty of food, and plenty to drink. Eventually your family starts to trickle out and it ends up just being the core eight of you. You were all sitting on the floor in a circle.

“Hey! Let’s play truth or dare or something.” Sarah suggests.

“Do we have a bottle to use?” Rachel asks.

“A bottle?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, it keeps it fair. Put it in the middle and spin it.”

“I’ll grab one of the empty wine bottles.” You say, getting up to grab one from the kitchen.

“We did this at kickbacks all the time in school.” Sarah explains. You come back with the bottle and place it in the middle.

“Everyone have a drink?” You ask. “Good, this game’s more fun when you’re drunk…sorry El.”

“No worries, totally don’t mind bein’ sober.”

“Okay everyone, let’s keep it lighthearted.” Rachel says. “Fun truths only. And we play a little differently. It’s not really a dare. If you choose not to answer the question, you have to take a sip of your drink, or a shot.”

“We do have a bottle of tequila.” Harry says. “Should I just get that and we can take turns swiggin’ from it?”

“Think that’s brilliant, mate.” Louis says. Harry gets up and gets the alcohol.

“Y/N, you spin first.” Mariah says.

You tip the bottle on its side and spin it, it lands on Rachel and you smile.

“Okay, Rach, tell the story of your first kiss.” She raises her middle finger to you.

“Fine. I was twelve, it was at summer camp, and it was with a boy named Joel. We both had braces and they got locked together, so we had to walk all the way to the medical tent like idiots, and wait for the nurse to try to figure out how to get us unstuck.” The group laughs.

“When was your first kiss with a girl?” Niall asks.

“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s not your turn yet.” She says with a smirk. She spins the bottle and it lands on Louis. “Hmmm.” She taps her chin to think of something. Harry leans over to her and whispers in her ear.

“Oi! No helpin’.”

Rachel giggles and Harry leans back to his spot.

“Louis, where is your most embarrassing tattoo located?”

Louis flips off Harry and takes a swig of the tequila. Louis spins the bottle and it lands on Sarah.

“Did you hook up with Niall the night you met?” Her jaw drops.

“That’s no secret, of course I did.” She looks at him. “Couldn’t resist.” She looks back at everyone else. “He was so charming, and such a good dancer.”

She spins the bottle and it lands on you.

“Alright, there’s a question I’ve been dying to ask since I got here.” She giggles. “What’s with all the makeup on your neck?”

You look at Harry, then the bottle of tequila. You grab it and take a swig. You were not having this conversation again. The group makes a noise and everyone laughs. You spin the bottle and it lands on Niall.

“Have you ever ripped your pants in public?”

“You suck.” He groans. “Yes, at last year’s work holiday party, I ripped my pants on the dance floor.” Everyone laughs. “I dropped it low and my pants split.” Harry bursts out laughing. “Least my pants didn’t rip so bad that my underwear ripped too and my dick popped out.” Harry shuts up immediately and Louis starts laughing.

“I’m sorry, what?” You ask.

“S’not my turn.”

Niall takes the bottle and points it towards Harry.

“Elaborate.”

“Cheatin’.”

“Tell the story.”

“Oh my god, we were havin’ a party, was it undergrad or grad?” He looks at Louis.

“I can’t fuckin’ remember.” He laughs.

“Right, well, I was wearin’ a tight pair of black jeans and I opted to go commando, don’t ask me why, so no my boxer’s didn’t rip. I think I squatted and my pants ripped open and everything just fell out.” He starts laughing. “It was pretty funny, I’m just glad we were at our own place so I could change.”

“Did everyone see?”

“Just Lou and Niall.” Harry takes the bottle and spins it. It lands on Mariah.

“Oh god.”

“Did you ever have sex in the office at Plant Geo?” She glares at him and takes a swig of the tequila.

“You’re evil.”

As the rounds go on, everyone, besides Eleanor, gets pretty drunk. The bottle lands on you again.

“Okay,” Rachel asks. “Talk about your first kiss.” You scrunch your nose.

“I was fourteen, and it was at the freshman/sophomore semi. I was nervous all night because it was also my first date. I asked him to go with me through a note.” You laugh. “It was during Stairway to Heaven, naturally. I remember we both looked each other, smiled, and Erica had told me before we left that I should never let a boy shove his tongue down my throat, so when I looked right before we made eye-contact and saw the tip of his tongue peak out, I made sure my lips were super tight. It was essentially a lip touch.” You laugh again. “And that was it, and we kept dancing.”

“That’s so cute!” Harry slurs.

“Can we just tell cute stories and take turns drinking the tequila?” Rachel asks.

“Oh, I think that’s a great idea.”

Everyone else tells the story of their first kiss, and then it gets to Harry.

“Took her out to this park, and we went behind a tree. It was pretty steamy.” Everyone laughs.

When it starts to get really late, everyone decides to call it a night. Louis and Eleanor were staying over with you guys.

“So.” You hiccup. “Everything you should need is in the bathroom. Help yourself to anything in the fridge if you get hungry, and we’ll see you in the morning. Oh, Buster shouldn’t bother you either, he usually stays in his bed all night.”

“Thanks again.” Eleanor says. “Goodnight.”

“Night, mate.” Harry says to Louis.

“Night.” He smiles.

The two of you go into your room. You wash your face and neck. The bruises were starting to fade. You get into bed with him, and kiss for a bit. He moves his leg between yours.

“Harry.” You whisper.

“What?”

“We have guests.”

“And?”

“We can’t.”

“C’mon, I’ve been dyin’ to get in there all day. They won’t hear anythin’.”

“I don’t like having to be quiet.”

“Y/N.” He whines.

“Okay fine, but we have to stay on our sides the bed won’t creak as much.”

You flip over so your back is against his chest. He slips in effortlessly.

“You’re such a little liar, you were already wet.” He says into your ear.

“You looked so sexy today, I’m sure I’ve been wet for a while.”

He starts to rock in and out of you, his hand rubbing your clit and his other on your breast, twisting your piercing. You gasp and bite down on your palm.

“You feel so fuckin’ good.” He says into your ear, and you feel tears prick at your eyes from the pleasure. “Always so tight and wet f’me.” You groan as he drive in deeper. “Ever been so wet for someone before?” You groan your response. “Use your words, babe.”

“No, never. Only, fuck, only you.”

You start panting and push back against him, you cup your mouth over your hand as you come and his release comes shortly after. You feel his breath on the back of your neck as his breathing slows back down.

The next morning Harry gets up to take Buster out. Louis was in the kitchen making himself a coffee.

“Hey mate, sleep well?” Harry asks coming back with Buster.

“Yeah, bed’s super comfy. El’s still sleepin’.”

“So is Y/N, she’s real tired.” Harry winks at him.

“You slept with her while we were in the next room?”

“Uh…yeah?”

“Must be nice.”

“You and El aren’t…”

“Not in a while. She’s felt…not so attractive now that her bump’s growing. Everything else is growin’ too so she just feels gross. I think she looks fantastic, but she’s super emotional from the hormones.”

“Aw man, that sucks. I’m sorry.”

“She rarely let’s me touch her. I’m hopin’ once she levels out a bit she’ll feel more up to it.”

“I thought pregnant women were like always horny.”

“So did I…” He laughs. “Maybe that’ll come in the third trimester.”

“I’ll prey for you.” He makes himself a cup of coffee. “There was like two weeks once where Y/N went without doin’ it and I thought I was going to explode.”

“Two weeks? Try two months and then talk to me.”

“Two months?!”

“Shhh, do you wanna wake them up?”

“Sorry, two months?”

“Yeah, I told yeh, she’s not feelin’ great. I’ve tried everything. She’s just starting to let me cuddle her again. I’m not pushin’ it.”

“I literally don’t know how I would survive.”

“How you’d survive what?” You say coming into the kitchen with your robe on and some pj’s underneath. “Morning, Lou.”

“Mornin’, love.” You smile at each other and you go to make yourself some coffee.

“Where’s my baby?”

“I’m-“

“There he is, good morning Buster.” You rub his tummy as your coffee brews. “So, what would you need to survive?”

“Nothin’.” Harry smiles at you and kisses the top of you head.

“Where’s El?”

“Sleepin’ still…she’s been really tired lately. I’m actually gonna bring her tea into her.” He walks out of the kitchen and back to the guest room.

“This is so nice for you two, three weekends in a row you get to hang out.”

“Yeah, it’s great. I’m glad they stayed with us.”

“Me too.” You yawn. You warp your arms around his waist. “You okay?”

“Yeah, perfectly fine.” He smiles.

Harry was not fine. He was suddenly terrified. He needed the camping’ trip stat. Two entire months of no contact? What if that happened to him and you when you get pregnant? Had he spent most of his adult life romanticizing the entire thing?

#take it slow #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut fic #harry styles fic #sorry for posting so late fam

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haro-whumps · 4 years

Text

Group Whumpees: 1. Start

Inspired by this post by @whumping-every-day and @justtorturewhump about a group of whumpees. I’ve been thinking about it on and off ever since I saw it but I finally got the giddyup to actually write for it

CW: Modern slavery, implied + referenced abuse, death of a minor character, multiple whumpees, transphobia (brief), aftermath of torture/conditioning

Galo settled himself into the hospital chair, perfectly comfortable and positioned at a thoughtful angle to the side, opposite the door so physicians could easily enter. He’d intended for this to be a quick visit, but clearly his aunt had other ideas, so he might as well take a seat.

“Here I am on my deathbed!” Auntie Bethany raved, flinging her arm about wildly, and Galo internally winced each time she got too close to jerking on the IV, “Only ONE person comes to visit me! In my whole family!”

To be fair, your whole family is made up of jackasses, Galo thought privately, raising his hands in placation. “Auntie Bethany, please, you were just admitted today. I’m sure plenty of people will show up tomorrow.”

“None of them want to visit me, even when I’m going to die!” she persisted. To be fair, Galo didn’t really want to visit her either. He just… well, she was family. And she was in the hospital. And even though his family was estranged and largely filled with self-centered, arrogant individuals that made any kind of holiday event a stomach ache and a half, he tried not to be. So here he was.

“You’re not going to die, Auntie Bethany,” Galo said patiently. “You’ve had this surgery before, remember? And you made it through just fine. I bet the same surgeon still works here, even!” Galo tried for a positive tone, cheerful.

“Ah, you’re such a good niece for your dear old aunt, sweetheart.”

“I’m your nephew, auntie, we’ve been over this,” Galo said through grit teeth, smile significantly more forced now. This is why no one likes you, Galo thought.

“That’s why I’m leaving you all of my estate, darling,” Auntie Bethanie continued like she hadn’t heard him. Galo blinked twice.

“I’m sorry, what?” Galo asked nicely, sticking his pinkie finger in his right ear as though to clear it out. “You’re…”

“I have my lawyer coming to the hospital,” Auntie Bethany said, “Go get me a pair of socks. They keep it so damn freezing in here.”

Galo rose and went to the cabinet, pulling out the soft yellow cloth and helping the socks onto her feet.

“I had planned to split my estate between everyone who showed up, but you’re the only one! So you get the jackpot, you’re welcome!” she said, well, nearly-shouted, as Galo tugged the socks on over the socks she was already wearing, struggling with the tightness. He was strong; daily visits to the gym had his arms thickly muscled, his chest broad, but he wasn’t exactly trying to break his elderly aunt’s foot here, so he couldn’t just shove.

“Thank you, Auntie Bethany,” he said, trying to sound actually grateful and not just tiredly patient. So this was her newest passive-aggressive ploy. After Galo told the rest of the family there was money involved, the others would show up with their plastic smiles and loud voices and then she would get to gripe at how they were only in it for the money, but change the will up anyway to keep them visiting. She liked to play “games” like that. Galo tried very, very hard not to sigh.

It’d probably keep up after the hospital stay, too, Galo mused as he sat back down in the chair. People showing up to her home with flowers and wine and “earnest” attempts to make sure she was recovering just fine. Honestly, who knew how long she could drag this out? Her poor lawyer. He hoped she was at least paying them well.

The lawyer did, in fact, arrive, and Galo quietly apologized each time his aunt criticized or scolded the poor man.

“You’re uh, gonna need to use my legal name,” Galo said, handing him his driver’s license. “Not the uh, childhood nickname she keeps calling me.”

The lawyer gave him a sympathetic pat, and it was hours after Galo had planned that he finally managed to get out from under his aunt’s endless conversation and go home already. He sighed, dropping his coat on the floor of his small apartment’s entryway. For all that he was competent, intelligent, and good with organizational skills and the like; Galo had not been particularly successful in his life. He was good with people and good with life skills, he just.

Bluh!

Bluh bluh bluh! Now was not the time for a pity party, or else he’d turn into his aunt. He played an hour of his most recent video game, an open-world with a semi-voluntary plot, before turning in for the night. He should think about investing in a rabbit or something. He could eek out the money, and his apartment got awfully lonely, with just him, a computer, and a potted plant.

In the morning, he knew he should email his family and let them know Auntie Bethany wanted visitors, and she was messing around with her will. He should. A good son, nephew, brother, and cousin would. But then his dad would call him, asking for specifics (it never mattered how many specifics Galo put in the email. His dad would always call and ask for more), and that would mean talking to his dad and he really, really wasn’t ready for that, at the moment. Or at all. He could do it later. It wasn’t like Auntie Bethany was actually dying, after all, she was just up to her hysterics again. And god, if Galo’s sister or brother decided they wanted more than just an email… if they decided to “pop in” after visiting their aunt and gloat to Galo about how now it was their names on the will…

Oh and don’t even get Galo started on what Uncle Mike would do. He was a bigger attention whore than Auntie Bethany.

So he just… didn’t write. Didn’t call. Nothing that big was happening, they could afford to wait a few days before feeding into Auntie Bethany’s weird games. She could probably use a little disappointment for the first time in her spoiled, nasty life anyway.

Galo took a deep breath and covered his face with his broad palm. He shouldn’t think like that. That was uncalled for. Auntie Bethany was a fine person, she was just rude, and loud, and inconsiderate. But she was family. He should be polite. But, still, it would be fine if she had to wait a little while for everyone to get in on her weird ploys.

So imagine Galo’s surprise when the hospital called him after work, letting him know his aunt had, unfortunately, not made it through her surgery.

Her mansion (and that’s really the only word that could describe it, though “castle” was more fitting, in Galo’s opinion (it had an estate garden, who has an ‘estate garden’?!?!)) was huge. Galo had made that observation before, of course, every time he’d spent the weekend as a kid and the couple of times he’d visited during a family gathering. He couldn’t really believe it was his. The castle, the pool, the garden, all of her badass furniture he’d been warned to keep off of as a kid, her hella entertainment system that he honestly couldn’t wait to hook his game consoles up to. Didn’t she also own slaves? He wasn’t certain; he tended to get as drunk as possible as fast as possible at family gatherings, in order to survive said family gatherings, but he was pretty sure she’d mentioned putting away her servants for the evenings since they were “eyesores” or some shit. And he definitely remembered her having one when he was a kid, a glass-eyed guy only about a decade older than Galo himself.

Whatever. He unlocked the front door with her keys, attached to his keychain now, and took in the familiar foyer. He should go upstairs and check if her turquoise guest room was the same as when he was younger. It had an en suite bathroom with a bath the size of a hot tub, and it could definitely serve as his new master bedroom. Auntie Bethany’s had been the size of a ballroom, and he really didn’t need all that space (or to sleep in the same bed his dead aunt had slept in, guh).

“Mistress, w--” a thin woman with pale hair and over-wide eyes entered swiftly, then flinched back, grinding to a halt when she saw Galo.

“S-Sir, I’m sorry sir, but our mistress is out at the moment. You will have to visit her at a later time.”

“Oh, uh, I’m, not a home invader,” Galo assured, setting his little potted plant down near the antique vase his aunt had boasted about so frequently. The poor lady was trembling visibly, though he had to give her credit for not screaming and calling the police upon seeing a stranger enter her home. He probably should’ve called out and introduced himself when he let himself in; he’d just been thinking about how Auntie Bethany had kept slaves. “My aunt had a relapse, recently, and was admitted to the hospital yesterday. Uh, her surgery didn’t go so well,” Galo said, rubbing at the back of his neck. He needed to shave down his undercut, he thought rather inanely. “She didn’t make it. I uh, I’m sorta the sole inheritor of her estate? For the time being; at the funeral I’m sure we’ll get into plenty of arguments,” he said with a forced chuckle.

“My name’s Galo,” he greeted, extending his hand to the woman.

He was a little taken aback when she genuflected and kissed his palm, dropping fluidly and with unexpected grace. “Oh, uh, okay,” he said, cupping her face and stroking a thumb over her cheekbone. Except, whoops, that was the wrong thing to do, he realized, since her face contorted and her whole body locked up.

“Shit, sorry, didn’t mean to hurt you,” Galo said, pulling his hand away immediately. She went down on both knees and pressed her forehead to the floor, further confusing Galo, her movements still fluid as silk.

“I apologize, Master. I reacted poorly.”

“No, no,” Galo rushed to reassure, his words making her flinch. “You’re good, you’re fine, it’s alright,” he tried, and that went over a little better.

“I apologize if I have angered you, Master.”

“You--didn’t. I’m just, surprised is all.” He bent down and touched his fingers very lightly against the back of her hand, and he noted that she flinched again. Okay. Probably a trauma response. His aunt had likely picked her up from somewhere bad, but that was alright. He had significantly more emotional intelligence than Auntie Bethany; he was better suited to help this kind of person than she was. Would have been.

“Will you tell me your name?” Galo asked, voice intentionally calm and reassuring.

“...” He watched her swallow, his brows furrowing. Did she… not know her own name? “Whatever pleases Master best,” she eventually answered.

“Oh,” Galo said, voice soft and pitying. “No, that’s alright. You can tell me what you’d like to be called.”

“I--wouldn’t, be presumptuous, Master, and put words in your mouth.” Man, she was shaking like a leaf. He would definitely be stuttering, if he was that scared.

But a direct approach clearly wasn’t going to work, here, he couldn’t just do it over and over again and expect different results. He’d come at this from a different angle.

“You’re so obedient,” he praised, stroking a finger down her fingers and along the back of her hand, light as a feather. “You’re very good, you were trained to answer just like that, weren’t you?”

“Yes Master,” she said, sounding relieved. Good.

“But right now, what I’m asking for is your name. If you don’t like the one Auntie Bethany called you, that’s fine, you can pick something else, but I’m not going to think of one for you, okay? I need you to do that, now,” Galo said patiently, feeling a little silly for talking to a grown adult in the same tone he might take with a crying child, but, well. Trauma response.

“Nyla, Master.”

“Good girl, Nyla.” He heard her breath of relief, and tapped the backs of his knuckles against her hand. “Stand up for me?” he asked, slipping his hands underneath her palms. He rose, and she stood with him, again with that eerie grace, pretty much none of her weight against his hands, although he had intended to help her up.

“So, is there anyone else here I should meet?” Galo asked, smiling patiently at Nyla who did not meet his eyes at all. “That other guy. Gr… G-something.”

“Greyson, if it pleases you Master.”

“That’s it! He still around?”

“Yes Master. I can fetch the others for you, Master, and bring them to wherever you’d prefer to inspect us.”

“Uh,” Galo blinked twice. Okay. Nyla was clearly going to require a lot of delicacy, and while he was definitely equipped to do that, he wasn’t fast. “Sure, how about you get the others in the--” No, not the living room, the furniture in there was all tiny and mostly just for her weird 60’s aesthetic, “--den.”

He mentally added “den” onto his brand new list of things that made Nyla lock up. He should probably turn it into a physical list, at some point, since he was going to live with her now, and it was important to make note of things like this.

But the damage was done, and maybe this would be a good way to show her his aunt’s den wasn’t like… whatever it was, that she’d experienced before here.

His den. It wasn’t his aunt’s anymore. Auntie Bethany was dead.

It was a weird feeling, he thought to himself as he grabbed his potted plant and went upstairs to the guest bedroom that was, in fact, still just as cool as he remembered it. He set it on the windowsill of his house. It was a weird feeling, a really weird feeling, that someone he’d known all his life was suddenly… gone.

He didn’t miss her. He didn’t like her, and they certainly hadn’t been close. He wasn’t mourning her. But. Hm. His grandparents had all died before he could remember them, so he hadn’t really had a death in the family before. It was strange and almost-melancholy, thinking that his aunt would never again walk through this place. Would never hassle him about his hair at family gatherings ever again, or complain about the TV being too quiet, or eat cantelope with her mouth open.

He shook himself. He had other people to say hello to and introduce himself to. He gave his cheeks two smart pats and left the room, mentally plotting where he would put his own personal effects. And ugh, he had to get rid of that weird hall painting. Actually, why not just do that now; he was there and it was large, but if he gripped under the frame on top he could sorta-shoulder-carry it down the stairs. The weight wasn’t much of an issue. He was a particularly buff stud, after all.

“Oh, there’s more of you than I expected,” he mentioned offhand, reaching the den. Five slaves stood at strict attention, ignoring the human-sized furniture he’d intended them all to sit on, including a girl who couldn’t possibly be older than twenty. He stared at her, a muted horror not quite breaking past the shock. She was absolutely covered in bruises. Some were purple, some yellowing, some bright red and fresh, hardly older than two or possibly three days.

“Oh god,” he breathed, very, very deliberately reminding himself to move slowly as he approached her. Poor thing! Had she fallen? The bruises differed in age too much for that. He reached out a hand to her, slowly, well within her field of vision, but she still flinched.

“Master!” Nyla interrupted before he could touch. “That one is Lilah, she’s the gardener for the estate.”

A little thing like her? The whole estate? Using the machinery needed to keep up with a yard this big, no wonder she was covered in injuries! She was way too small to be handling stuff that could hurt her like this!

“Nice to meet you, Lilah,” Galo said gently, extending his hand again, just as slow and careful as the first time. Lilah sank to one knee, almost as fluid as Nyla, and kissed his palm, which. Alright! Cool! Sure! Maybe Auntie Bethany had gotten Nyla and Lilah together?

Galo gave her a single, quick pat on her head, not wanting a repeat of whatever distress he’d caused Nyla in the foyer. Lilah was tan and freckled, with sunbleached brown hair, and wow, yikes, she was so small. Galo swallowed and turned to the next person in the lineup.

“Greyson,” Galo greeted with a smile. He looked a lot like he had when Galo was younger, just sorta gaunt now. Reddish-brown hair that was only just starting to sprout a handful of gray hairs, tall and skinny with knobby hands. “Remember me?”

“I do, Master Galo,” Greyson said with a bow, hand raised to his chest, and Galo chuckled.

“Good to see you again, dude. It’s been years,” Galo said, leaving his hands in his pockets. He’d already met this guy, however long ago that it might have been.

“It has, Master, I am delighted to see you again,” Greyson said, monotone and still bowing, but Galo was inclined to believe him. Greyson had always been like this, as near as he remembered.

“Look a little different than last time, huh?” Galo asked with a proud grin. Greyson lifted his head and quirked a very, very small smile of his own.

“I believe you’ve put some weight on, Master.”

Galo made note of how everyone else in the room tensed up at Greyson’s words, but he also laughed. “You bet I have,” Galo bragged, flexing an impressive bicep, before taking a mental red sharpie and writing DON’T DO THAT around the action in big letters. Lilah looked like she might cry.

He’d have to catch up with Greyson later. Or, well, get to know the guy? He hadn’t had much interest in the man when he was a kid, more preoccupied with the pool and old movie collection. He turned to the next person, a man closer to his own age.

“What’s your name?” Galo asked, calm, friendly smile that he used during work on his face.

“Evan, if it please you.” Evan had fluffy dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and strong, handsome features.

God, everyone here was really formal. Greyson, he got. Again, the man had always been like that, but man. They sounded like they all came out of those weird books Auntie Bethany was always reading.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Evan,” Galo said, doing a little wordplay, and Evan lowered his eyes deferentially. Galo lifted his hand to maybe clap him on the shoulder or rub at his own hair or something, but Evan knelt mid-motion and kissed Galo’s hand and okay! Maybe his aunt had been the one with the hand-kissing-thing after all. That was weird as hell to think about, and Galo was gonna try not to.

“This is Sasha, Master,” Nyla stated when Galo turned to the last person in the room, a woman with thick, curly, dark hair and wide blue eyes. She was pale as a ghost. “If you will allow it, she does not speak very well, and I am capable of speaking for her, Master.”

“Okay, sure,” Galo said, not going to push too hard for information on that. And he wasn’t, like, gonna tell them no, either. If this was what made them comfortable, then alright, he could deal with that. “Nice to meet you, Sasha, you don’t need to kiss my hand.”

Sasha nodded tensely, and ugh, maybe he should have let her? Now she was the odd one out. Well, Greyson hadn’t either, so…

Nope, don’t overthink it. Galo could tell there was going to be plenty for him to overthink, moving forward, and he needed to get into the habit of cutting that in the bud right now.

“Alright, so, nice to meet you all,” he already said that. “I’m new, and I’m gonna be honest, the fanciest thing I’ve ever owned is my computer rig, so I’m probably gonna make a couple mistakes in the whole… running an estate, thing, at first. You’re all allowed and encouraged to make suggestions or tell me if I’m doing something stupid on accident, okay?”

It didn’t look like that was okay at all, but Nyla nodded with a “Yes Master” anyway so eh, Galo would take it.

What should he say now? Telling them they were dismissed would make him feel like a hoity toity jackass, but it also felt kind of lame to just… leave it at that. “I’m also a little slow,” he warned, “so please be patient with me. Sometimes I need an extra couple of seconds to think things through.”

“Understood, Master,” Nyla answered again, Evan swallowing nervously at Galo’s words. Yeah, he was definitely going to have to make physical lists of weird observations. Everyone here looked like they had trauma they were processing. Yikes. His aunt was hardly a philanthropist; why would she take in this many skittish people?

His stomach ended up saving him from further floundering, gurgling loudly. Lunch had been so long ago...

“Master, may we prepare dinner for you?” Nyla asked, swaning down to her knees and bowing her head low.

“Yeah, actually, that’d be great. I’m allergic to mushrooms so nothing with those, please.”

“Yes, Master. Is there anything you’d prefer tonight?”

Hm. They seemed to like direction, and giving them a solid lead would probably be kinder than forcing them to think for themselves and worry about what he did or didn’t like. But at the same time, he had no idea what his aunt kept stocked.

“How about pasta with white sauce?” he suggested. Open ended, basic ingredients that they were pretty much guaranteed to have, and easy to make. And relatively quick; he was hungry.

“As you wish, Master.”

“Cool. I’m gonna start going through my aunt’s stuff. Lemme know when it’s ready.”

Galo left the den with a “Yes Master” chasing his heels, and rubbed at the back of his neck. Goddamn, these people were not having a great time. But that was okay. Galo was confident he could help.

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