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karajaynetoday · 2 months

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and i'd give up forever to touch you, cause i know that you'd feel me somehow | jack hughes

Thank you for all the love on hey now, you're an all-star - i am honestly blown away by those notes!! here is a part two. let me know what you think, and what your predictions or desires are for a potential part three! xo

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: nothing major. uni stress again, jack being a bit of a dick. angst. all of the angst.

(This is a fem reader insert) read part one here read the part three here

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

Waking up was always slightly disorienting for you, and the next morning was no different.

Your dreams could be quite vivid, or you couldn’t remember them at all once you awoke; but the first thing you could sense on this particular morning was the strong scent of coffee wafting through the room. As your eyes adjusted to the morning light streaming in the windows, you became suddenly and painfully aware that you were alone on the couch. A blanket had been draped over you at some stage of your slumber, but Jack was nowhere to be seen.

You sat up slowly, rubbing your face, trying to ignore the anxiety that was building in your chest. You could hear a shower running, somewhere in the hotel suite, and hastily threw the blanket off your body as you scanned the room for your belongings.

Shoes. Where were your shoes? And phone? Keys? Did you bring a bag with you? What time was it? What time did your class start? Would you be able to get an Uber to Campus in time? Wait, was your class online or on campus this morning?

Your brain was churning out a thousand thoughts a minute, and your heart rate was starting to match it. You felt like a deer in headlights. Or a cat under a rocking chair. Or… just… lost. You were so lost.

Someone cleared their throat behind you and you jolted, whipping around to face Quinn, who was decked out in a brown leather jacket and grey pants, holding two steaming coffee mugs in his hands.

You must have looked distressed, because Quinn offered you a gentle smile and one of the mugs which you cautiously accepted.

“Thanks, Q. I really should get going soon, though. Get out of your hair before the big draft day circus arrives.” Your voice was still slightly groggy with sleep.

“Take as long as you need, sugarplum. Our call time isn’t for another two hours. Jack’s in the shower, and he’d hate it if you left without saying goodbye.” Quinn raised his eyebrows at you as you both took a sip of coffee.

“Watching Jack try and untangle himself from you on the couch did provide me with my morning entertainment though. Surprised he didn’t end up with another injury given how clumsy he usually is.” You felt your cheeks get warm at Quinn’s comment and the smirk on his face.

“He could’ve just woken me up…” You offered weakly, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt at nonchalance.

“No offence, but that was a risk that neither of us are willing to take. Not after last summer.” Quinn bit back a laugh as you narrowed your eyes at him.

Last summer at the lake house, you’d stayed up all night trying to finish the latest novel in your favourite fiction series. Jack had come into your room to wake you for the boat day you’d discussed the day before, but instead of a gentle approach to waking you up, he’d literally jumped onto your bed. Which caused you to sit bolt upright and “accidentally” punch him in the face. At least he thought the black eye made him look tough for a couple of weeks.

“Nice jacket, by the way.” You tried to change the subject.

Quinn stood up straight and puffed out his chest.

“You think so? Jack and I got to go down to Hermés and pick out our outfits yesterday. I felt suuuuper out of my league to be honest.”

Your eyes widened at the brand name Quinn just dropped, slightly choking on your coffee.

“Hermés? That’s proper designer, Q. Like, tens of thousands of dollars of jacket, right?”

Quinn didn’t answer you, but he didn’t have to. The look on his face told you that the jacket he was wearing was worth more than six months of your rent. Maybe more.

“Well, we have to do this red carpet thing, and I figured we should probably try a bit harder than team merch.” Quinn reached over and tugged playfully on the sleeve of your hoodie.

Well, Jack’s hoodie. That you happened to be wearing. Which was previously super comfortable, but now felt like your skin was on fire underneath it.

“What time is it, anyway?” There you go again, changing the subject.

“Like, 9.15?” Quinn offered, pulling his phone out of his pocket and showing you the time on his home screen.

9.15? Why was that important to you? What was at 9.15?

The test. In your economics class. Worth a decent chunk of your grade. It was at 9.30am. But was it online or on campus?

You downed the rest of your coffee in one gulp, ignoring how it burned your throat, and thrust your mug back at Quinn before tugging the hoodie over your head and throwing it on the floor. You turned around, searching wildly for your phone and spotting it on the couch where you’d been sleeping, not that long ago. You lunged for it, frantically unlocked and trying to find your university schedule in the calendar app.

“Oh thank god. It’s online. Holy fuck.” You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm yourself down.

“Sugar? You okay?” Jack’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you looked up from your phone to see him standing in the doorway to his room.

Clad in black jeans, with a towel around his shoulders and his hair still damp from the shower. Shirtless. Of course he was shirtless. You squeezed your eyes shut out of instinct, and also to stop yourself from blatantly checking him out. When you opened them, Jack was striding towards you, his face etched in concern.

“What do you need?” Jack spoke quietly, but firmly, reaching out to rub your arms reassuringly. His touch sent a zap of electricity through you, which seemed to kick your brain back into gear.

“I need… Do you have a laptop I can borrow? I have an online test in 15 minutes that I forgot about, for a subject I’m almost failing, and if I miss the test then I don’t know that I’ll be able to recover my grade.” You half-whispered, almost wishing that Jack and Quinn couldn’t hear your confession out loud.

You were supposed to be the smart one. That’s what everyone said, when you were growing up. You were the brains, Jack was the beauty. You were the bookish one, he was the brutally athletic one. Talking about failing university out loud was suddenly terrifying, even though you’d known it was a possibility for a few weeks or more.

“Hey… hey.” Jack squeezed your arms, trying to centre you, and dropped his head down to your eye level. “It’s okay. I’ve got a laptop you can use, and you can stay here for as long as you need.”

All you could muster was a nod in response, and Jack leaned in to kiss your forehead before disappearing back into his room, presumably to find his laptop. You sat back down on the couch, suddenly unsure of what to do with yourself.

Quinn had briefly left to place your coffee mug in the kitchenette, but he was back and leaned over the back of the couch to squeeze your shoulder.

“You’ll smash it, kiddo. Make sure you ask Jack what his laptop password is though, I’d hate for you to get locked out during your test.” Quinn said quietly, before his phone rang and he stepped into his room to answer it.

“Here you go, sunshine. Fully charged, but the charger is in my room if you need it.” Jack was back in the living room, handing his laptop to you, already logged in and a web browser open for you.

You stood up from the couch and moved towards the dining table, setting the laptop down and pulling out a chair. It only took a minute to log into your university portal and navigate to the subject page you needed for the online test. You were about to click the start button, when Quinn’s comment flashed in your mind.

“Jack?” You squeaked, turning to face the couch where Jack had flopped down moments before. Still clad in black jeans, still fucking shirtless, absolutely ignorant of the effect he was having on your ability to breathe calming, mindlessly scrolling on his phone.

“What’s up?”

“What’s… what’s your password? In case I get locked out and you’re not here? Could you write it down for me please?” You reached for the hotel notepad and complimentary pen that was on the table you were sitting at, waving them in Jack’s direction.

Jack rolled his bottom lip under his teeth as he stood up and took the notepad from you and began scribbling on it.

“I have to go downstairs and meet Bratter for some team social media stuff, but I’ll see you later, okay? Text me when you finish your test.” You’d never seen Jack move so quickly as he handed the notepad back to you, retrieved a shirt and jacket from his bedroom and disappeared out the hotel room door, all within a minute or two.

You were confused, to say the least. You glanced down at the notepad Jack had thrust into your hands, and you could’ve sworn your heart stopped when you saw what he scrawled on it.

Password - SugarpluM2001Jh!

–

Quinn had headed out not long after Jack did, leaving you to complete your test in silence. Despite the disorienting start to your morning, and all of your revision notes being on your desk at home, you managed to scrape through with a 75% result which would supplement your final grade significantly.

The waves of relief washed over you, as you clicked out of web page you were on. You reached for your phone and typed a quick message to Jack as promised, and you were confused when the laptop chimed with a notification noise.

Oh. Oh. Jack’s laptop was linked to his phone, and his messages were suddenly popping up on the laptop screen in front of you.

You shouldn’t pry. You knew that. Your logical brain was telling you to close the laptop screen and get going. But your anxiety brain was telling you that you should take a peek. Just a little one.

Before your logical brain and anxiety brain could battle it out properly, the laptop notification chimed again, and a girl’s name that was not your own flashed up on the screen.

What happened last night? I thought you were coming to my room after your dinner?? Xx

You felt your jaw drop, as you started to realise what was happening in this conversation you shouldn’t have been privy to. You froze, as the little bubble popped up in the chat, showing you that Jack was typing a reply.

Sorry babe i got caught up with some boring family bullshit, you know how it is. Would’ve rather have been with you obvs but i just couldn’t get away. Then today is crazy with media stuff anyway. I’ll see u at the drew house event tonight though? Go back to yours after that? Xo

Sounds great. I’ll be wearing this for you, J. *image attached*

You slammed the laptop shut when the image loaded, showing someone wearing a red and black lingerie set.

You felt bad for snooping, but you felt worse knowing that Jack considered last night as “boring family bullshit”. Is that all it was? Were you stupid for thinking it was more? That it could ever be more between the two of you?

Or was that all you could ever hope to be? Like family. Forever intertwined, always floating in each other’s orbit, but never more than friends. Platonic soulmates at best, childhood acquaintances at worst.

You were spiralling, yet again, and your phone buzzing with a notification provided a brief reprieve. Until you saw that it was a text from Jack.

Well done on your test, champ!! Knew u could do it. See you at the draft tonight? There’s two passes in your email for you and your dad to come visit. Might even get to meet bublé, if that’s your vibe lmao

Suddenly, there was a bitter taste in your mouth. Why was he pretending like he wanted to spend time with you? When surely all he actually wanted to do was sneak off with the girl he was texting just moments ago?

You swiped into check your email app, and there were the passes as promised. You quickly scanned the email to see if they were assigned to any particular name, and all you could see was “guest of Jack Hughes” rather than you or your dad specifically. You quickly hit the “forward” button, and sent them on to your dad and your cousin Tom, who had met Jack and Quinn a handful of times over the years, and was a massive hockey fan like your dad. You knew Tom would love to go, and your dad would be happy enough to have Tom join him.

You sent through a quick message to Tom saying you weren’t feeling well and that he’d be doing you a favour by taking your pass, to which he immediately replied with lots of exclamation points and thanks.

Next, you typed a message back to Jack.

Thanks again for the laptop and for the passes. Something’s come up so i can’t come but dad will be there with tom, hope that is ok? Didn’t want the passes to go to waste. Good luck for the draft, don’t let quinn bully you too much lol

You were hoping that Jack wouldn’t question you, or pick up on the shift in tone. Well, maybe you wanted him to sense the tone a little bit. Jack’s typing bubble popped up in the text conversation, then disappeared, then popped up again, then suddenly your phone was vibrating with a call and Jack’s name was flashing across the top of your screen. Your fingers hovered over the answer/decline buttons, before you abandoned both and dropped your phone back onto the table, letting the call go to voicemail.

You stood up from the table and began to gather your belongings. The bitter taste was still in your mouth, but otherwise you felt nothing. Just numb. You barely realised what you were doing when your body moved towards the hotel suite door, into the elevator, through the lobby and out onto the street. You waited a few minutes for your Uber, before slipping away through the streets of downtown, and as far away from Jack as you felt you needed to be.

By the time you got home, Jack had called you twice, and sent you about ten text messages of various question marks and confusion, and a fair amount of concern. You plugged your phone into the charger on your bedside table before heading into your bathroom for a much-needed shower.

Your shower felt like it took about 3 hours, when in reality it was probably more like 20 minutes at most. You washed your hair, and spent some time sitting down on the shower floor staring into space, pondering the events of the last 24 hours. When you finally emerged, putting on your favourite sweatpants and an old Canucks hoodie you found on your bedroom floor, you realise your phone was flashing with more notifications.

You settled down in bed before picking up your phone and scrolling through the home screen. Jack had resorted to sending you photos of sad baby pandas to elicit a response, your dad had texted you to say thank you for the passes and to feel better soon, but it was a message from Quinn that caught your eye.

Q: What did he do? He’s freaking out. Are you okay? I can beat him up if you want me to. Or give him a hug. Just let me know which is more appropriate based on whatever the fuck he did

You hesitated, contemplating whether to tell Quinn the truth or not. But then you remembered that Quinn had literally known you since you were four. He could tell if you were lying in a heartbeat, even over text message.

You: Maybe just remind Jack that his text messages pop up on his laptop. See if that helps him to figure it out lmao sorry to miss tonight quinny, hope you draft all the canucks you want xo

Q: He now looks like he’s going to throw up?? Still unsure if hugging or punching is required tbh

New message - Jack Hughes -

You sighed and rolled your eyes, before clicking on Jack’s message notification.

I am an idiot. I’m so sorry, sugar. I swear i am.

Sorry for categorising me as “boring family bullshit” or sorry that you got caught trying to get your dick wet? Or sorry for pretending to be my friend when you apparently just tolerate me to be polite?

We have press for two more hours then i can call you. You’re my best friend, sugar. I love you.

You felt tears start to prick in your eyes as you read Jack’s message. Sure, he loved you. But not in the same way that you loved him. And right now, you felt like that would never change.

You clicked out of your message thread with Jack without replying, and opened up your conversation with Quinn instead.

I’ll come to the all-star game on saturday, but nothing else, if that’s okay with you? I just need some space for a bit, sorry x

Whatever you need, kiddo. I’ll give the game passes to your dad tonight. I still don’t know what jack did, but i think not seeing you will be punishment enough for whatever it was??

You didn’t reply to Quinn’s message. You didn’t reply to any more calls or messages for the next day or so, switching between trying to catch up on study and catching up on some Netflix episodes. You were typing notes on your laptop on Saturday morning, when a New Jersey Devils Twitter alert popped up on the screen and caught your attention.

#NEWS: Jack went home to Jersey last night after participating in Thursday’s draft and Friday’s media hits. He was extremely honoured to be a part of All-Star Weekend, especially sharing it with his brother. He’s really close to returning and wanted to get back so he could continue to focus on the rest of the Devils season.

The bitter taste you thought you’d gotten rid of suddenly returned with a vengeance.

Jack went home to Jersey last night. You had no idea when you’d see him again. And to be completely honest, you weren’t even sure that you wanted to. Your laptop dinged again, this time with an email notification. You were confused to say the least when the new email appeared to be from an airline, with a voucher attached.

Your phone buzzed with a new text message.

I couldn’t stand being there knowing you’re mad at me, but i also don’t want to force you to talk to me when you’re not ready to talk yet either. Use the voucher to come to jersey whenever you want. I’m sorry.

You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, torn between accepting Jack’s offer and wanting to be stubborn and not let go of being mad at him just yet. You hated what Jack had done, but you also hated yourself for cutting short your time with him that was already in short supply as it was.

I’ll let you know. Might be a flight to Jersey, might be a flight to Michigan. We’ll see. Good luck getting back out there!

You knew the Michigan comment was a cheap shot, but Jack had hurt you, so you wanted to be childish and hurt him back. The idea of not seeing him for almost four months until the summer break, where you’d all gather at the Hughes lake house as you did every year, made you feel slightly ill.

Whatever you want, sugar. Mac n cheese in michigan on me. Love you.

The mac and cheese comment made you smile, and the love you comment made you want to cry.

Love you too, J. Maybe too much. I don’t know. I need time. x

#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #my writing #nhl imagine #jack hughes fanfiction

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bucky-fricking-barnes · 3 months

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The Cards We're Dealt

Title: The Cards We’re Dealt

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: Arranged marriage, alcohol, cursing, objectification of women and mild sexism, bad parents, angst, fluff, mentions of drugs

Summary: Bucky and Y/N are the children of the two most prominent mob bosses in New York. When their parents use them as part of a deal, they’re left to figure out how their lives fit together.

A/N: Wow! Another long fic because I have no self-restraint. There’s a bit of Irish in this because I couldn’t resist it when I wrote Steve. Translations are at the end, and anything incorrect can be blamed on Google Translate. As always, thank you for reading, liking, commenting, reblogging, and supporting me in all the ways you do.

There is an unspoken rule amongst the mobs in New York that the more drug manufacturers a man controls, the nicer you treat his daughter. So, when Bucky’s father tells him that he’s once again been pimped out as part of a deal, Bucky knows to ask the question,

“How many does he control?”

If Bucky had his way, of course, he would treat all girls as well as he is able (which is very well). He likes girls, and he likes going out with girls. He just wishes he could choose which girls he got to take out.

“Seventy-five percent,” George Barnes says, and Bucky freezes with his glass against his lips. He has a club soda to his father’s whiskey—he’s in a good mood and was actually hoping to enjoy the day, though now he’s reconsidering it. His plan to lounge by the pool with Becca and soak up as much of the late spring sunshine as possible is quickly dissipating.

“That’s not possible,” Bucky replies. He quickly does the math in his head. His dad owns over half the manufacturers in Brooklyn. “We own—“

“Not anymore.”

The library falls silent as Bucky tries to wrap his head around the news. Just yesterday he’d overheard his father on the phone with one of his men, explaining in great detail what he’d do if they didn’t get him a sample of their newest product by the top of the hour.

“How?” he asks. He sets his glass aside and sits straighter in his chair. “Did something happen? You didn’t tell me about a takeover.”

George takes a sip of his whiskey. “That’s because there wasn’t one.” He sets the crystal tumbler on the small bronze tray nearby. Marta will come clean it up later. “I sold them.”

“You sold them? If you’ve already struck a deal, then why am I taking out his daughter? Isn’t that normally something you have me do to butter their fathers up before you make the deal?”

Bucky watches as his own father stands and goes to watch the landscapers through the library window, his hands clasped behind his back. He’s long since been out of the army, but some habits die hard. Very rarely did the man ever relax.

“You are the deal,” George answers, his voice much too casual for Bucky’s liking.

“What the hell are you talking about?” snaps Bucky.

“Watch your tone, boy,” his father replies. He doesn’t turn around to witness the way Bucky grinds his teeth together in response. “In exchange for the majority of Theo’s territory, you and Y/N will be married within a year and a half, though the exact date is up to the two of you. I believe that Theo mentioned his daughter likes spring, so perhaps a spring wedding. June is popular, from what I’m told, though that’s cutting it a little close to the deadline.”

Bucky’s up out of his seat now. He can feel his pulse thrumming and he can’t quite catch his breath.

“So what? You threw me in to sweeten the pot? Am I just another bargaining chip to you now?”

He’s shouting. He doesn’t care.

George turns and regards him in silence, and, like always, his expression betrays nothing of what he’s thinking or feeling. He doesn’t seem fazed at all by Bucky’s outburst.

“You’re my heir. I make my decisions based on what’s best for our family. Nothing about this decision is impulsive or frivolous, James,” he finally answers, his voice cool and even. There’s nothing familial in his tone—George Barnes is all business.

“You can’t just decide that I’m getting married. I won’t do it. I refuse,” Bucky tells him. He balls his fists at his sides and he sets his jaw, furious. How dare his father try to control his life like this? It’s one thing to occupy the majority of Bucky’s nights and weekends with dates, meetings, dinners, and weapons runs, but it’s another to throw him into a marriage he doesn’t want.

“I can and you will. If you don’t, there will be consequences. To start, you will be immediately cut off from our family. You will have no money, no home, no resources, and no contact or communication with anyone involved in the business, including your mother and your sister.”

Heart pounding, Bucky glares at him. He’s got a migraine coming on. He knows his father isn’t kidding, but he wants more than anything for Steve to pop out and say that this is all just a joke. He’s never even met Theo’s daughter. He’s barely even met Theo. According to the rumors, his only daughter is his most prized treasure. She isn’t someone who frequents any of the bars, clubs, and restaurants that he and the other “mob children” frequent. Maybe “mob children” isn’t exactly the right term, at least not anymore. After all, Bucky’s engaged now. He’s just part of the mob, another pawn to be moved around the chessboard.

“You have the rest of the day off. I’ll see you at eight tomorrow morning,” says George. He picks up his glass and downs the last of the liquor. “Theo and his family are coming for breakfast, and then Y/N will be moving in with us. I want you on your best behavior.”

He pauses and Bucky continues to glare at him, not validating his words with a response. George’s eyes grow dark with a thinly veiled threat. Bucky knows that look—if he pushes his father any harder, he’ll regret it.

“Do you understand, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky grinds out.

Turning on his heel, Bucky stalks out of the library and slams the door behind him. He immediately heads down the hall, then down the stairs and across the ground floor of the Barnes Estate to the garage. His keys are still in his pocket; he’d only just gotten back from a night out with Steve when his father had summoned him.

It doesn’t matter that he’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Bucky climbs onto his bike and revs the engine, speeding off down the long driveway that winds around the house. The guards barely get the gate open in time and then he’s flying down the road, heading straight to Steve’s bar in the city. He knows his friend will be there, most likely nursing his hangover and going over the books in his back office. He won’t be hard to convince to go out again, though Bucky knows he won’t approve of the plan to drink as much as he possibly can in the next twelve hours. It doesn’t matter, though—it’s Bucky’s last night as a free man, and he’s determined to make the most of it.

You sit between your parents, staring at the empty seat across from you. They’d told you this morning that you were going to the Barnes Estate for breakfast, and while you’d expected the grandeur of the dining room and the meal, you didn’t expect the eldest Barnes child to be completely absent. You’ve never met him, but your mother has insisted that you speak to James—George Barnes’ only son and heir—as much as possible during the meal. Supposedly, he’s the same age as you.

Rebecca Barnes is a ray of sunshine and her cheery disposition is a stark contrast to the dark clouds that now hang over your fathers’ heads. Maybe it’s a deal gone wrong or maybe it’s something else, but you don’t like it. It leaves an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Silently, you sneak a hand under the table to find your mother’s. You squeeze and your mom squeezes back, glancing over to give a reassuring smile.

“Y/N,” Mrs. Barnes starts, and you jump a little in your seat. You haven’t been verbally addressed since you’d been seated a half hour ago. The food has yet to be served. “Your parents tell us that you’re very interested in horticulture. Did you know we have a rose garden out back?”

You force a polite smile. “I don’t know about very interested. I have a few house plants that I’ve managed to keep alive, though I would love to see your garden sometime. I’m sure it’s beautiful,” you add.

“Maybe Bucky can take you,” Rebecca says, earning herself a sharp look from her mother. She simply shrugs.

Oh, to be as unbothered as Rebecca Barnes!

“Where is James?” your father asks. His voice is a low, threatening growl and you sink down in your chair, staring at the cloth napkin still folded atop your plates.

“He knows to be here,” Mr. Barnes growls back. “You’ll have to excuse his tardiness, he’s not normally like this.”

Mrs. Barnes gives Rebecca an even harsher look when she opens her mouth to speak, and this time the girl actually looks ashamed. She takes a sip of her orange juice to hide the guilty look on her face. She’s the first person to have actually touched something on the table, and it’s like whatever spell the room has been under is broken.

All at once, the dining room springs to life. A short, slightly heavy-set woman in a gray dress and white apron enters through one door. She’s holding a delicate silver coffeepot and the smell of coffee instantly fills the room. Two younger women in identical uniforms follow behind her, each of them pushing golden carts laden with food. Through the door across the room, a tall man with short, dark brown hair stumbles in. He’s wearing all black, from his rumpled button-up and jeans to his boots and sunglasses. His hair is sticking up in every direction and just like the coffee, you can smell the stench of alcohol coming from him even from your seat.

You grimace at the smell and pull your napkin into your lap as one of the women comes to place food in front of you. It’s a formal dining service and the strange new man who’s entered feels entirely out of place. From his attire to the way he shuffles across the antique rug, everything about him screams that he’d rather be anywhere else. If you acted like that, your father would be pulling you back out into the hallway to reprimand you, and you look anxiously at Mr. Barnes, who’s seated at the head of the table.

“James,” he greets, his voice unnervingly even. A chill runs down your spine. “It’s nice of you to join us. I trust that you slept well last night?”

James collapses into the only empty chair at the table, the one across from you, and pointedly ignores his father. You risk a glance up at him as he reaches for the cup of coffee that’s already been poured.

True to form, Rebecca leans over and claps a hand on her brother’s shoulder blade. “Good morning! Aren’t you excited to have breakfast with our guests?” she shouts, and her smirk makes it much too clear that she’s fully enjoying the way her brother’s scowl deepens. Rebecca also ignores her parents, including her mother, who leans forward to look past James and give her a look of warning.

James shrugs his sister off of him and starts buttering the toast on his plate. You watch for a moment, then start picking at your own food as your mother also begins to eat. Everyone’s acting so strangely that you’re already on edge, and you’ve only managed to get down a few grapes and two bites of dry toast by the time your father speaks up again.

“So when are we signing these papers?” he asks, sipping his coffee.

“As soon as the marriage license is signed,” answers Mr. Barnes.

You frown. Marriage license? Who’s getting married?

“And the terms are the same as when we last spoke?”

Mr. Barnes sips his own drink, something that looks suspiciously like whiskey, and sets down the glass. “Yes. I have that contract in my office. We’ll review and sign after we’re done here. Are all of your daughter’s things ready to be moved?”

Your stomach drops and you turn to stare at your father with wide eyes. He nods, not even paying attention to you as he continues his conversation with the other man. Your mother pointedly ignores you, choosing instead to stare at her plate as she eats. When you look around the room, it seems like almost everyone else is doing the same. Rebecca is the only person who actually meets your panicked gaze. She gives you a pitying look as your anxiety rises.

It feels like your mouth is filled with sandpaper, and you grab your glass of juice. You have to drink half of it before the feeling even mildly abates. As soon as you set it down, one of the women in gray appears to refill it.

“What’s going on? Why are you moving my stuff?” you finally choke out. You twist the napkin in your lap with both hands, wringing it as you look from one person’s face to the next.

Mr. Barnes stops mid-sentence and the whole room freezes. Even James, who’s pouring something into his coffee cup from a small silver flask, stops what he’s doing.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” your mother begins, taking your hand under the table.

You want to pull away. You don’t.

“After breakfast, your father and I are going home, but you’ll be staying here with the Barneses.”

“What?” you whisper, your eyes filling with tears. “No, I don’t— I don’t want to stay here. You never said anything about me—“

“We’re getting married,” James interrupts. He’s chewing and you look over at him, gaping at the casual way he’s sprawled out in his chair. You can feel his gaze on you even from behind his sunglasses and it makes you feel dirty.

“Excuse me?”

He chuckles and sits up, then leans forward in the chair. He drops the greasy strip of bacon he’d been eating onto his plate. “We’re getting married. They’re using us like bartering chips, sweetheart. You and me in exchange for all the drugs and all the territory in New York.” James gestures grandly with one hand, a too-wide grin on his face. There must be at least ten rings on each of his hands and you swallow thickly at the threatening display of black and silver metal.

You’re trembling now and you pull your hand away from your mom’s. She reaches for you again but you shake your head, shying away from her touch. Frantically, you look around the room to see if this is some kind of joke or a drunken rambling, but no one is laughing. Even Mrs. Barnes has the decency to look sympathetic on your behalf.

“No, no. You wouldn’t—“ You look back at your parents, imploring them to say that it isn’t true. You swallow thickly, trying to stave off tears, and your voice wavers as you prompt, “Mom? Dad?”

Their silence speaks volumes and a whimper escapes you as you wring your hands in your lap. The napkin slides onto the floor. It suddenly feels like you can’t breathe and when your mom reaches out for a second time and starts to tell you to calm down, you jerk away and stand. The chair falls backwards behind you, but you ignore it as you rush out of the dining room and into the hallway you’d entered from. Everything is unfamiliar. Frantically, you pick a door and yank on the handle. It doesn’t give way and you continue the process until one of them finally opens and you can rush inside. You lock it behind you and press your back against the door. The curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows are closed, shrouding the room in darkness. You can’t make out much of the furniture through the tears in your eyes.

Out in the hallway, you can hear your mother calling for you and your father arguing with Mr. Barnes. Mrs. Barnes is yelling at somebody too, but it’s hard enough to hear the others over your own gasps and sobs. You’re properly crying now and you sink to the floor, curling up on the carpet as you heave. It’s a good thing you weren’t able to stomach much breakfast.

A knock on the door makes you yelp and then cry harder, and you crawl into the darkness of the room to try and find a hiding spot. You’re lucky enough to find an old, heavy desk right away. It’s the perfect size for you to crawl under for shelter, and there’s no chair for you to move out of the way. The drawers on both sides create a cubby for you, so you crawl into it and curl up into a ball with your back towards the door, just in case someone manages to get in. If you’re quiet enough, it’s possible they’ll walk right past you.

The crowd in the hallway has definitely heard you by now. The doorknob is rattling as whoever’s on the other side tries to get in, but after a few minutes, they stop and the hallway goes quiet. You hold your breath after every couple of sobs, listening for any sign that they’ve found a key or that they’re picking the lock. Nothing happens, however, and after a while, you give up on listening.

You sit in the darkness and cry until you’re thoroughly exhausted. Once you’ve run out of tears, you sit and zone out with your head resting against the side of the desk drawers for a while longer, numb from the news. Your body feels light and a buzzing, tingling feeling makes moving your limbs seem impossible. You could’ve never imagined that your parents would be so capable of treating you so poorly. You’ve always felt so loved by them, and to hear that they’ve practically thrown you away at the first chance of a profit makes you want to puke. Upon that realization, you actually do throw up, and the stink of your vomit on the carpet of whatever room you’re in makes you want to cry all over again.

The door opens just as the stench is becoming too much to bear. Light floods in from the hallway and you squint, curling up in fear. After a moment, the shorter woman in the gray uniform that you’d seen at breakfast appears a few feet away from the desk, right in the path of light. You look up at her.

“Oh dear,” she sighs, and you instantly feel ashamed at the disappointment in her voice.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. Your bottom lip is trembling again as fresh tears somehow appear in your eyes. Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the back of your wrists. “I can clean it if you—“

“You’ll do no such thing,” the woman says. Her voice is gentle and kind, so much so that you don’t feel the need to argue with her. She waves her hand dismissively and approaches you, then holds out both hands. She’s careful not to step in the mess you’ve made. “Now come on, up you go.”

You let her help you to your feet and then you straighten out your clothes, sniffling and wiping at your nose again in a desperate attempt to look more put together than you feel. Still a bit unsteady, you whimper for a second time, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, dear.” She gives you a warm smile. “My name’s Marta. I’m the head housekeeper here. It’s very nice to meet you.”

You don’t feel the same way about meeting her, given the circumstances, but you hold that comment to yourself and simply nod in agreement. Marta leads you back out into the too-bright hallway. It’s empty except for a bald man mopping the floor on the far end.

The high ceilings and glossy marble floors make it look like you’re in a castle. Even the silence feels regal. Everything seems so cold compared to your home, and you feel too small in the massive space.

“What time is it?” you quietly ask, looking back at Marta.

“It’s almost noon, Miss.”

Your stomach sinks and you press your lips together, inhaling deeply as you look around again. Three hours have passed. “My parents…”

“They left about fifteen minutes after breakfast,” she tells you. Her words are matter-of-fact, even if she delivers the news in the softest possible way.

Somehow it hurts worse that they’ve left you than finding out they’d practically sold you to the Barneses in exchange for God knows what. Drugs or territory, whatever James had said. Not only did they treat you like nothing, but they’d deserted you after it was clear you didn’t agree with their plans. They hadn’t even tried to reassure you that they still loved you or that you’d still be able to see them. Maybe you wouldn’t be. Maybe they didn’t.

You nod numbly. There’s been nothing to prepare you for this, no precursor or warning, so you keep looking around the hall, though in reality you’re not really seeing anything.

“Your room is ready upstairs, Miss Y/N. Would you like me to take you?” asks Marta.

You nod again. You feel like you’re underwater as you follow her up a grand staircase and then down a long, narrow hallway. It’s decorated similarly to the ground floor, though with a plush Persian rug running its length. Marta talks as she walks ahead of you, no doubt explaining what the many doors lead to, but her words simply go in one ear and out the other. It’s all so surreal that when you finally get to your own room, you don’t even open the door. Marta has to reach around you to open it, and then she gently ushers you inside when you still don't move.

Just as they had said at breakfast, your belongings have all been moved into the Barnes Estate. The furniture here is different, grander than what you’re used to, but your blankets and pillows are on the bed, and the two bookshelves are packed full of the books you’ve collected over the years. Even the strip from the photo booth at an old friend’s wedding is pinned to the bulletin board above the desk. Someone’s even thought to put your plants on their own table by the window.

“There’s a bathroom on the left and your closet is on the right,” Marta explains, pointing to each. “If you’re hungry, dinner is at five.”

“Do I have to eat with them?” you ask.

If Marta is surprised by your question, she doesn’t show it. She simply shakes her head with a gentle smile. “No. We can bring food here if you’d like.”

You nod and stand in silence until she leaves and closes the door behind her. Then, after another minute passes, you drag yourself over to the bed, climb under the covers, and close your eyes.

If there’s any mercy left in this life, you think, I’ll fall asleep and never wake up again.

Weeks pass and you still haven’t adjusted to life at the Barnes Estate. The staff is only slightly less friendly than those you grew up with, but they’re more attentive. It helps that there are more of them. For every member of the Barnes family, yourself included, there are at least four staff members to attend to their every need. It makes you feel like royalty, but it also makes you feel guilty. You don’t need this much. You certainly didn’t ask for it.

You haven’t seen James since the ill-fated breakfast, nor have you seen your parents. They’ve gone so far as to block your number. After that discovery, you’d locked yourself in the massive ensuite bathroom and cried for an hour. Marta had been the one to coax you out. The poor maid who’d found you when coming to get you for dinner hadn’t known how to help. You’d spent that entire evening curled up on your bed while reruns of The Nanny played on the TV embedded in the wall across from the massive mattress. Marta had spent every second with you that she could, but eventually Mrs. Barnes—Winnifred, as you referred to her in your mind—had scolded her for neglecting her nighttime duties across the estate. That made you feel even worse.

“Are you okay?” Rebecca asks, and you turn to look at her from where you’re staring out the hallway windows at the gardeners. The backyard is massive, complete with a rose garden in full bloom, an outdoor swimming pool, a forested walking trail, a large green expanse for games and parties, a gazebo, a fountain, and what seems to be stables far in the distance, though you haven’t ventured far enough to be sure. A visit to the rose garden hasn’t been brought up again either, and nothing seems interesting enough to explore on your own.

Nodding, you don’t say anything before turning back to watch the men work. They talk and laugh with each other as they prune, pick, and water. You wish that you could trade places with them.

“You don’t look okay,” she says. Rebecca props herself up on the window ledge to your right, facing you with a suspicious look on her face. “We haven’t seen you at any meals, and Valerie told me that you were crying in the bathtub three nights ago.”

You should feel ashamed, but you’re too numb to care. It feels like you’re floating through each day, detached from most things. You’ve spent your entire life thinking that you would marry for love and live happily ever after. Now, your parents have sold you to the highest bidder and your husband-to-be is a cruel, disgusting man-child that wants nothing to do with you.

Rebecca’s fingers lacing with yours jerk you back to reality and you look down at your joined hands in confusion. Her nails are bitten short and she wears a single ring with the Barnes family crest. It’s dainty and gold, a stark contrast to the many rings on her brother’s fingers.

“You’re safe here, Y/N,” she tells you, her voice gentle. “You don’t have to be alone. I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened to you. If I had any say in it, you could be home right now with your parents, but I’m far from the top of the totem pole.”

“I hate them.” You spit the words out and jerk your hand away from hers. “I hate my parents.”

That’s the first time you’ve ever said that in your entire life and your heart skips a beat as the anger makes your lip curl. You’re baring your teeth at her but Rebecca doesn’t even flinch. She’s a mafia princess, through and through.

“They made me believe that I could have anything I wanted, that I could marry whoever I wanted whenever I was ready, and then they threw that all away and treated me like shit the first time it was convenient for them.”

She nods. “That’s true.”

“I was so foolish to have believed them,” you growl, but the fight in you is fading just as quickly as it came. You burn bright, but you burn quickly, too.

“No,” Rebecca says, shaking her head. “You’re just human.”

You look away, embarrassed by your display of emotion as your eyes begin to water with more tears. You were raised to be reserved. You knew very little about the inner workings of your parents’ business, but you’d learned as a young girl that you’d fare better if you always clung to the edges of the room, avoiding the dirt and grime and blood that surrounded your whole life. Over the years, you’ve grown very good at hiding yourself and your emotions from the people around you. From the spark in her eye, you have the feeling that Rebecca is the exact opposite. She could hold her own if it came down to it. You couldn’t.

“It’s okay to be upset,” she insists.

Shaking your head, you take a deep breath and look back out the window. You lift your chin slightly and when Rebecca tries to rope you into another conversation with her, you ignore her and focus on the men outside. They’re finished tending to the roses on the edges of the garden. Now they’re working their way inwards.

You’re finally left alone a few minutes later and as soon as she’s around the corner, you let out a heavy sigh and relax your posture. Slumping forward, you lean forward into the window ledge, curling up just a little as you continue to watch the gardeners. The silly song from Alice in Wonderland pops into your head and you hum along, eventually mumbling to yourself about painting the roses red.

You feel a little bit like Alice, you realize. You’re out of your element in a strange land where everything you’ve learned about life seems to be turned on its head. In this world, nobody marries for love and the girls are just as entrenched in the business as the men. Does Rebecca conduct business with her father and older brother? You could certainly picture it. Will the same be expected of you?

That afternoon, Marta knocks on your door with a written invitation from Winnifred. Your presence is being formally requested at their dinner table, though from the look the housekeeper is giving you, it’s more of a demand than a request. With her help, you pick out something to wear. By the time five o’clock rolls around, you’re crossing the enormous hallway in a dress and heels that you’ve never seen before. It’s far too showy for your taste, but it’s clearly something someone wanted you to wear. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have put it in your closet.

George Barnes and James stand when you enter the dining room, as do several other men you don’t recognize. Your father is standing near the head of the table with George, though your mother and Rebecca are nowhere in sight. Besides Winnifred, you don’t recognize any of the other women. The only empty seat is beside James and your immediate instinct is to flee, but then he’s stepping aside to pull out the chair and all eyes are on you.

Slowly, you close the distance between the two of you and sit. He helps you scoot in, then takes his own seat on your right. The other men sit as well and then dinner resumes. You sit in silence, staring at the top edge of your plate with your hands in your lap. You’re not really listening to the conversations around you, either, but you can feel someone’s eyes on you as you try to stay as quiet and motionless as possible.

“Are you sick or something?”

You startle and look up with wide eyes. James is watching you. He’s got one hand on the table with his fingers brushing the stem of his wineglass and the other resting on his thigh. Unlike your fateful breakfast weeks ago, James is dressed in a neat, all-black suit. He has no tie, and his rings are all gone except one. It’s identical to Rebecca’s family crest, except his is silver and has a thicker band.

His eyes are full of something you can’t place and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. As quickly as you turned to him, you turn away and look back at your plate. The napkin is folded in some elaborate way on top of the plate. You’re not sure if it’s supposed to resemble anything at all, but maybe if you stare at it long enough, it will look like something.

“Y/N?” he prompts. You nod once, tightly, and then pull the heavy cloth napkin into your lap when a server appears to present the first course.

Between the second and third course, you can feel James’ eyes on you. After the third, he gets roped into conversation with a man sitting across the table, but you know that he’s glancing at you all the while. After the fourth, he bumps his arm against yours. You shirk away and feel him tense beside you.

“Excuse me,” you mumble, and you push your chair away from the table. Immediately, the conversations stop and all the men stand again. It’s too much attention on you and you hurry out of the dining room as fast as your heels and dress will allow. You’re stumbling over yourself by the time you get back to your suite on the third floor. The door slams behind you and you collapse onto the floor beside the bed, too overwhelmed to even climb atop the oversized mattress. You’re on the verge of tears when there’s a soft knock from the door, and that rips a sob from your chest that you hadn’t expected.

Immediately, the door opens and James is standing in the open space, a dark look on his face. You sob again and scramble backwards until the edge of the bed frame is digging painfully into your spine.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

You swallow hard and take several gasping breaths, trying to control yourself. Your mind is spinning with insults, calling you weak and pathetic, and you believe every one.

“It’s just too much,” you answer through your tears. “I don’t want this!”

James huffs. His angry expression has faded, now replaced with something more akin to irritation. “And you think I do?”

You shake your head. “Of course not.”

“These are the cards we’ve been dealt, doll. You’re gonna have to get over it. Let’s just get married and then we can live happily ever after in a big house where we never have to see each other. I’ll do what I want and you can do what you want. Sound like a plan?”

You look down at your hands. A big part of you wants to say that no, it doesn’t sound like a plan. You don’t want that life. You don’t want a house so big that you practically need a golf cart to get from one side to the other. You don’t want a husband who ignores you in favor of his blood money or his side chick or the next shiny toy off the black market. You don’t want James.

Though every part of you is screaming the opposite, you nod. He crosses the room and you inhale sharply to steady yourself as he approaches you with no care. His black dress shoes are tracking dirt across the rug. James holds out a hand to help you up and you take it. The heirloom ring on his right hand digs into yours until you’re standing, and then he drops your hand like it’s on fire.

“We need to go back,” he tells you, and you nod again. “Our parents are pissed.”

“Of course they are,” you mumble.

James pauses, staring at you critically. You’ve been staring at the baseboards since he helped you up, but when he doesn’t move or speak, you glance upwards at him. He’s got one eyebrow raised. His expression is thoroughly unreadable otherwise and an unsettling feeling blooms in your stomach.

“What?” you ask. You step back a little, but there’s no place to go except up against the bed again.

He shakes his head at you. “Nothing. Come on, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” You scrunch your nose. “Anything but that.”

“Sugar?” he offers, and when you shake your head, he sighs. “Well, what do you want me to call you, since you’re suddenly the one calling the shots?”

His words cut deep and you look back down, hating the way shame immediately pools in your belly. How could he seem angry and irritated with you, then borderline kind, and then completely disinterested in your feelings the next? It’s disorienting, and you don’t need that on top of everything else.

“That’s what I thought. Let’s go.”

Grabbing your arm in a grip just bordering on painful, James pulls you out of your bedroom and back down the hall. He holds on as you stumble behind him in your heels. When you reach the ground floor hallway again, he drops his hand and offers you his arm. You’re hesitant to take it, but he sighs a little and you decide that it’s easier to give in than to put up a fight.

The two of you walk back into the dining room and the conversations immediately hush. James leads you to your waiting seats, pulls out the chair for you, and then helps you scoot towards the table again once you’re seated. As he takes his spot beside you, your father speaks up.

“Have you and James discussed when you’ll be getting married?” he asks.

You pick up your fork and stare at the strange food on your plate, ignoring him. Though your stomach is churning, you force yourself to take a bite. He can’t expect you to answer while you’re chewing—it would be bad manners.

“Next spring,” James answers. “In the rose garden.”

You want to spit on the roses. You swallow your food instead.

“Good choice,” Mr. Barnes agrees. He turns his attention back to your father. “Your daughter is quite the well-behaved woman. She’ll do well with our James.”

Beside you, James tenses again, his grip tightening slightly on his fork. You glance at him, holding your breath, and wait until he relaxes again to take another bite of your food.

The rest of the dinner passes with mundane, meaningless conversations. Nobody addresses you for the remainder of the meal, not even your parents, and finally the men begin to make their way out of the dining room to an adjoining room. You hadn’t even realized there was a room connected; the door is hidden amongst the paneling and crown molding on the walls.

“You can’t go in there.” James grabs your wrist as you stand to follow the group of men into the new room. His voice isn’t malicious and his grip isn’t tight, but you flinch away from him anyway. It’s only then that you realize the few women that had been in the room are leaving through the door to the hall with their wineglasses in hand.

“Because I’m a woman?” you counter.

“Because you don’t want to hear the things that they’re going to discuss,” he answers. He tosses his napkin on the table and stands, towering over you. After a long second of eye contact, he steps away from you and heads towards the men.

You watch him go and silently weigh your options. A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have even thought about following the men into the second room. You would have simply taken the same path as the other woman, though your wine would have continued to remain untouched. Now, however, with your wine in hand, you stood at a crossroads. You could go into the room and potentially face the wrath of your father, James, and George Barnes, or you could live forever curious as to what was actually being discussed.

With your mind made up, you down your wine, step around James, and head through the open door into the room. It’s a study with dark wood paneling on the walls, leather couches, and stale cigar smoke in the air. As soon as you enter, the laughter and conversation stop and all eyes land on you.

“Y/N, you should be with Winnie and your mother,” Mr. Barnes says, stepping towards you. James is behind you now and though you’re hedged in, you simply lift your chin at the older man.

“Why? Am I not allowed to know what family I’m marrying into?”

His face darkens. “Girl, I’m warning you—”

“Don’t speak to my wife like that.” James’ voice from over your shoulder startles you and you quickly turn your head, looking back at him with shock.

Why is he suddenly standing up for me?

“Hold your tongue, James,” his father snaps. “You aren’t married yet, and Y/N needs to learn her place. One would think her father would have taught her better, considering the problems his wife caused.”

Though you hate your parents for what they’ve done to you, your blood boils at the insult. Your anger rears its ugly head even more when you realize that your father doesn’t look intent on standing up for you or your mom, either.

“That’s enough!”

You swear the room rattles around you when James shouts and you grit your teeth, furious at Mr. Barnes. How dare he insult your father? How dare he talk to you and his son that way?

James grabbing your hand shocks you back into reality. Once again, his grip is almost painfully tight, but you force your face to reveal nothing.

“Y/N and I are going out. If I so much as hear that you’ve said a single thing about her in my absence, you will regret ever giving me any kind of power in this business,” he growls. “The next time you see her, I expect that you’ll treat her with the respect she deserves.”

The men stare at you and James in disbelief, and then you find yourself being practically dragged out of the room. You’re too stunned to fight back, so you let him pull you across the ground floor of the estate to a door only two down from the dark room where you’d hit the morning your parents had left you behind.

“We’ll have to take the car, unless you’re okay riding the bike in that dress,” James says, pushing open the door. He doesn’t look back at you as he speaks, and it takes you a second to realize he wants a response.

“Car,” you answer after a few seconds. “Please.”

The room James has led you to is a massive garage, stretching farther than you ever realized a similar room could. Three of the walls are made of light gray cement, as are the floor and ceiling, and the fourth wall is made up of windowed garage doors, each one big enough for several cars to drive through simultaneously. Running down the center of the rectangular garage, there is a row of seven parked cars, with enough space to fit at least another car between each one, and beyond that, you can see a row of several motorcycles parked in a similar manner. The cars are in varying shades of gray and black, with the exception of one red sports car at the far end of the group. You can’t see the bikes well enough from the door, but you catch glimpses of blue, silver, gray, and black.

Four enormous, black and silver tool chests are lined up against the wall facing the hoods of the cars, but there isn’t a spot of oil or dirt in sight. You don’t even see any loose tools or equipment. Looking around, you wonder if the tool chests are just there for decoration, or if someone on the estate actually works on the cars and motorcycles.

Maybe James works on them?

“Are all of these yours?” you ask, unable to help yourself. He seems like the kind of guy who would enjoy driving around for fun, and he’s just mentioned something about a bike. You stare at the side of James’ face as he plucks a set of keys off a black pegboard on the wall. There’s a button embedded in the wall beside the board. James pushes it with one thumb and the keys in his hand bump against the wall.

One of the garage doors near the last few cars starts to roll upwards onto the ceiling, revealing the outside of the estate. The sun has completely disappeared from the sky, and the moonlight is blocked by the clouds you’d seen rolling in earlier in the afternoon. The leaves of the large shade trees that surround the estate and form a protective shield from the outside world rustle in the wind. Crickets and cicadas chirp, reminding you of the cool spring nights you’d spent on your family estate as a little girl. You’d run around in the grass near the garden while your mom or your nanny watched you. Sometimes your father’s men would watch from the perimeter of the property, and when you’d wave, they’d wave back, asking what you’d done that day. You always answered them, even if you knew it would get you in trouble. They never stopped asking either, even if it got them in trouble, too.

You stop walking and close your eyes, then breathe in deeply as the night air rushes into the garage. It’s the first time you’ve been even close to the outdoors since arriving at the Barnes Estate. Your skin is still warm from the stifling dining room and the anger you’d felt in the men’s study. The breeze is a blessed relief, even if you do shiver after only a moment. Goosebumps form on your exposed skin—the dress Marta had picked out for you did little to keep you safe from the elements.

James keeps walking down the aisle formed by the wall and the front of the cars, though you hear his footsteps pause a few moments after you stop following him.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You’re a little surprised that he’s not demanding that you catch up. When you open your eyes, you immediately meet his gaze, and a weird feeling bubbles up in your stomach. The expression on his face betrays little, but his stare reminds you of the way your father’s men looked at you all those years ago—interested and almost fond, but ready to push you away at a moment’s notice. You nod and hurry to catch up with him.

Once you get closer, James presses a button on the key fob in his hand. One of the cars in front of the open garage door rumbles to life. The sound it makes is a low purr, almost seductive, and you raise an eyebrow as James approaches, then runs his fingers over the hood. Even if the others aren’t, this car has to be his. It’s a sleek black, with dark tinted windows and a gleaming silver grill in the front. The BMW logo shines proudly in the center. It looks like a car your own father would own. Though you know he’s never owned a BMW, if this car is anything like the ones in your father’s fleet, you know that the inside will be as much a picture of luxury as the outside.

You slide into the passenger seat when James opens the door for you, and in the time it takes him to cross around the front of the car to the driver’s side, you take inventory of the interior. It’s a manual transmission—something your father once said was obsolete, except for car collectors and enthusiasts—which means that you wouldn’t be able to drive it, even if you tried. The car is pristine, so much so that you’re afraid to move. Two water bottles are in the cupholders, and it still smells brand new inside. There isn’t a speck of dirt or dust on the dashboard, nor on the floor mats. The leather seat is soft and there’s a control for seat warming and cooling on the control panel.

James climbs into the driver’s seat and shuts the door. He buckles up and you follow his lead, and then you sit back as he reverses the car out of the garage and onto a winding driveway that leads you around the front of the estate, then along the other side to a large gate with a guard house. You’d forgotten about the extensive security since the last time you’d been outside the Barnes Estate. Your father had handed over your driver’s license, along with his and your mother’s, before breakfast all those weeks ago, and there’d been a strange code word of some kind. It dawns on you as the guard opens the gate for you and James that you’d never gotten your license back.

“Where are we going?” you ask as James pulls onto the main road. It leads away from the estate and into the city.

“To get some real food,” he replies. His tone is gruff, and it feels like he’s on the verge of an angry outburst, so you slump back in your seat as he shifts gears and the car accelerates. The tension in the car is thick. You don’t want to be the one to deal with it, especially since he’s the one creating it.

After several minutes of watching the enormous mansions and the forests surrounding them pass by, you look over at James again. His expression, just like in the garage, reveals nothing, but you can tell that he’s more put-together than the last time you’d interacted, and it’s not just the tailored suit. His hair has been trimmed and styled, and he has an even dusting of stubble that frames his jawline nicely.

In the time since you’d learned you were engaged, James hasn’t said anything to you. You’ve heard him talking in the hallways as you wandered, but you haven’t wanted to be near him. This is the closest you’ve ever been. Your brief conversations so far tonight make up the majority of the words you’ve spoken to each other. His words from the bedroom echo in your head, until finally, you can’t help but blurt out your thoughts.

“Do you really not want to marry me?” you ask. Your voice sounds small and pathetic, and you hate it, but it’s too late now.

He glances over at you with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the gear shift. “What do you mean?”

You sit up a little in the seat, though you keep your hands in your lap and you try not to move your feet, just in case there’s dirt on your shoes.

“I mean,” you say, watching him carefully for his reaction, “that when you came to get me upstairs, you said you didn’t want to marry me. Is that really true?”

“I never said that.” He shifts gears again as you near a stoplight, and the car slows.

“Yes, you did.”

“No,” he shifts again, his teeth now clenched, “I didn’t. I asked if it looked like I wanted to marry you, and you said it didn’t. But I never said I didn’t want to.”

Now you’re confused, and you frown at him, ignoring the obvious irritation in his voice. The car rolls to a stop behind a Ferrari blasting music out the open windows.

“So you do want to marry me?” you ask.

He sighs and drops his hand from the gear shift, then looks over at you. “Y/N, I’m not going to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do, so if this is you testing to see how I’ll treat you, then you have nothing to worry about. I’m not a monster.”

“It’s not. I just…” You stop, unsure of how to phrase what you’re feeling. It’s strange to be upset over a marriage you don’t even want, but for some reason, you are.

“What?”

“If you don’t want to marry me and I don’t want to marry you, then why are we going along with this?” you finally ask, settling for the bigger question than the one that’s truly nagging at you.

“Because we know that if we don’t, life will be hell,” he answers.

It’s the truth. You know it is, and you know it deep down. If the two of you refuse this marriage, your life will be worse than you could possibly imagine, and you’re fairly certain that your fathers will find a way to make it happen anyhow. They’re well-connected in every sphere of life, not just when it comes to drugs and weapons. Your father probably has a priest on his payroll.

The light turns green and James moves the car forward again, merging into the right lane almost immediately. He slows as you approach a valet stand outside an upscale bar you’ve never heard of. It’s not one of your father’s, which means it probably belongs to George Barnes.

Then again, you think as a uniformed man opens your door, maybe it belongs to James.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Barnes,” a valet on the other side of the car greets.

James hands him the keys. “You too, Tommy. Listen, don’t park it too far off. We’re not staying too long.”

The man nods and climbs into the driver’s seat as your own valet leads you away from the curb. James meets you next to the valet stand and offers you his arm, then heads towards the doors.

“What is this place?” you ask as he holds open the door for you.

“My friend’s bar,” James says.

Your stomach twists itself in knots as heavy club music starts to get louder. The bass rumbles in your chest and you dig your nails into his arm as you near a set of glossy black double doors. You haven’t been to a club in a long time. The last time you’d gone, you’d been dragged by a childhood acquaintance, but you’d spent most of the night alone after she’d ditched you for someone she met on the dance floor. You’re not particularly eager to relive that experience tonight, especially with the man you’re being forced to marry. Who’s to say he won’t ditch you for someone else right in front of you, just to rub it in your face? After all, he’d said it himself in the bedroom—you’ll do what you want and he’ll do what he wants. It’s the cards you’ve been dealt.

If these are the cards, then I’ve got a sucky hand.

“James—”

“Bucky.”

You stop and squint at him in the low light of the entrance hallway. The two bouncers in all-black suits stop with their hands on the door handles, ready to open them for you once you start walking again. The music pounds in your ears, so much so that you can feel your eardrums vibrating.

“What?” you ask, not sure you’d heard him correctly.

“Bucky,” repeats James, a little louder this time. “You should call me Bucky, if we’re going to be married.”

“Is that… a nickname?”

Even in the darkness, you can see him laugh, and a bashful, boyish smile spreads across his face. “My middle name is Buchanan. Steve used to tease me about it when we were kids, and he started calling me Bucky as a joke. It caught on.” He shrugs it off, but there’s a fondness in his voice when he speaks of his childhood friend, and it makes you smile just a little.

You loosen your grip on his arm. “Okay then. Bucky,” you add.

When Bucky steps forward again, the doors are pulled open, revealing a much more casual bar than you could’ve anticipated. Though it’s clean, it looks a little run down, and the heavy music fades into jazz piano as you step through the open doorway and into the large, open space. With almost cathedral-height ceilings, walnut floors and support pillars, and well-worn wooden booths and tables, the bar feels more homier than you’d expected. It’s clearly been well-hidden from the busy crowds of New York. Only a few patrons are scattered around the room, sitting in the booths or at two-top tables, but Bucky leads you to the wood, u-shaped bar that juts out into the room from the back wall. A single man stands behind it, drying glasses with a white bar towel. He smiles when he looks up and sees you approaching.

“Bucky,” he greets, and he reaches over the bar to pull Bucky in for a hug. It’s the first time you see Bucky smile—a real, full, genuine smile—and you watch in silence as he hugs his friend.

“Steve,” Bucky replies. Instantly, your brain starts connecting the dots. This is his childhood friend, the one who gave him his nickname.

“Tá sé go maith tú a fheiceáil.” Steve turns his attention to you, and you quickly look away from Bucky and at him. Your brain whirs as you try to place the language he’s just spoken. It’s not one you’ve heard before, which means none of your father’s men speak it, and neither do any of the Barneses.

“You must be Y/N.”

You nod and offer Steve a small, polite smile. You’re not sure how to act around Bucky’s friends. If they’re also part of the mob, it’s possible they’ll treat you even worse than George Barnes had after dinner, but a new, surprising voice in your head argues that Bucky would never be friends with someone like that.

“It’s okay,” reassures Bucky. He reaches out and touches your arm, gentler than he has all evening. “Steve’s a nice guy, and he knows about our family businesses. You can trust him.”

Steve looks between the two of you before picking up a glass and setting it right-side-up in front of you. “What’ll it be, Y/N?”

You glance at him, then at the wall of liquor behind him. After a moment, you list off a drink that’s not your favorite, but that you know you’ll be able to stomach no matter the circumstances. Steve nods in response before starting to make it.

Silently, Bucky takes one of the chairs at the bar, and you do the same. He sits with his arms folded on the counter. He’s still wearing his suit from dinner. You feel a little out of place in your fancy clothes, and you wonder if he feels the same.

Your drink is placed in front of you a moment later, and after Steve’s silent prompting, you take a sip. It’s delicious, and you can’t help but smile at him.

“Aha, I’ve still got it!” Steve cheers, and you laugh. He grins at you, a charming type of smile that makes your heart flutter in your chest. You feel a little sheepish at the intensity of his joy, and you fidget in your seat, then with your hair.

Beside you, Bucky rolls his eyes and tosses a round paper coaster at his friend. “Knock it off, Rogers,” he huffs. “Stop flirting with my girl. You’ve already got one of your own.”

You glance over when he calls you that, but you don’t say anything. There’s another weird feeling in your gut now. This one, unlike the one you’d had in the car or the fluttering feeling Steve had given you, you recognize immediately—pride. It feels good to have Bucky call you “his girl”, even if you barely know him. It’s strange, and the thought makes you squirm in your seat again. You drop your hand down to the bartop and take another sip of your drink, trying to quell the strange feelings inside of you.

What is going on with me? Why can’t I just feel normal about all of this? Is there even a normal way to feel about this?

“You hungry?” asks Bucky, and you nod when you realize he’s talking to you again.

“I make a mean twice-baked potato,” Steve says. He plants his hands on the bar to look between the two of you. “Whaddaya say, Y/N? You up for it?”

“Only if you put the jalapeños on the side this time, punk,” Bucky tells him before you can reply. He seems to remember himself a second later, however, because he looks over at you. “Unless, of course, you want them on top.”

You shrug, not wanting to upset anyone, and Steve groans.

“Come on, Y/N,” he says, and he smiles wide as he gestures around the almost-empty bar. “I’ve got all the time in the world to make your food exactly the way you want it. Don’t make me guess.”

“He’s bad at guessing,” Bucky chimes in.

“Terrible,” Steve adds, nodding earnestly.

Tentatively, you list off what you want, and Steve makes a note of everything on a notepad that seems to appear out of nowhere. Once he’s got your order down, he disappears through a door in the back wall. Before it closes, you catch a glimpse of a shining kitchen filled with stainless steel, and you wonder how many patrons come through the bar if Steve has what looks to be a full-sized kitchen in the back.

“You didn’t eat much at dinner, so I figured I’d bring you someplace that actually has good food,” Bucky says. He reaches across the bar to grab a bottle of beer Steve has left out, and he uses one hand to pry the top off.

You gape at him, too distracted by the blatant show of strength to properly process the very thoughtful thing he’s just said to you. “What?”

“I said that you didn’t eat much at dinner, so I figured—”

“You just pulled the top off like it was nothing. How did you do that?” You look around on Steve’s side of the bar for another bottle, hoping to try your luck. Maybe it’s some new kind of bottle that he’s trying out before it hits the market, or maybe Steve has bootleg beer with a different kind of cap.

Bucky is staring at you, seemingly just as confused as you. “With my arm.”

“With your arm?” you repeat. You’re certain that he’d used his hand to pry it off.

He stares at you for a second longer before the confusion disappears and is replaced with a glint of mischief in his eyes. It makes the shadows on his face melt away a little, and his blue irises seem bright and youthful again, entirely unlike a man who’s seen too much.

“My arm,” he reiterates, and then he pulls off the black glove you’d assumed to be part of his personal style. It’s not just for show, however, because he pulls it off to reveal a black metal hand with dull gold knuckles. Bucky continues, standing and shrugging off his jacket, then rolling up the sleeve of his button-down shirt. As he reveals more and more, you realize that the black metal continues, making up what would be his left arm.

No wonder it hurt when he grabbed me.

“It’s metal,” you dumbly say, and he snorts.

“Observant.”

You shake your head and look from his arm to meet his eyes. “You have a metal arm. How didn’t I know that?”

Bucky shrugs and drapes his jacket over the back of the chair. He leaves the glove on the bar where he’d first set it down. Once he’s seated again, he rolls up his other sleeve to match.

“Beats me. I figured everyone knew. My dad wasn’t subtle when he was bragging about the arm he had made for me when it first happened,” replies Bucky. He takes a sip of his beer, then sighs and sets it back down.

You don’t want to pity him, so you try your best to school your expression by taking a sip of your own drink.

“Was it an accident?” you ask after a minute has passed. He doesn’t reply right away, and you scramble to save the conversation. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

“How old were you?”

“Seventeen,” he says, and his voice is quieter than before.

You look back down at the drink in front of you. Twisting the glass around and around, you ask, “And it was an accident?”

Bucky takes another swig of his beer. “I was with my dad, working a job. I didn’t even realize I’d been injured until I woke up in the hospital, two weeks later, missing an arm. Apparently, falling shipping containers are heavy.”

You can’t help but curse. What he’s describing sounds horrible, but Bucky only laughs.

“That sounds about right, yeah. I’m lucky I had Steve around to keep me sane,” he tells you. “My friend Sam was a big help too, but he moved down to Louisiana a few years ago.”

“Steve seems like a good friend,” you agree. “They both do.”

You can feel Bucky staring at you now, and you take a sip of your drink while you wait for him to look away again. When he doesn’t, you glance in his direction.

“What?” you ask.

“What?”

“Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are!” you laugh, and you look at him fully this time. Bucky’s grinning, and you ball up a cocktail napkin and toss it at him.

“Okay, I was staring,” he admits, still smiling. “But I can’t help it. You’re pretty, and you’re nice, and you seem smart.”

You feel your cheeks grow warm at the compliment, and you look away. “You don’t have to say that. We’re already engaged.”

“I’m not saying it because we’re engaged. I’m saying it because it’s true.”

You don’t have a chance to reply before Steve comes out with two hot plates. He places them in front of you, joking briefly about giving you the wrong order, and it’s distraction enough that you sit up tall and smile wide. You push Bucky’s compliment out of your head as you chow down, groaning and moaning about the potatoes. They’re exactly what you need after the stressful dinner. Bucky was right—you hadn’t eaten much, and Steve’s cooking is delicious.

Once you’re full, you push your plate away and lean back in your chair. Steve grins at you before he goes back to counting the cash drawer. The other patrons have left already, leaving you, Steve, and Bucky alone in the bar.

“That was amazing,” you tell him for the hundredth time, and Steve chuckles.

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to tell mo bhean chéile—my wife—you said that, considering she still believes potatoes aren’t a meal.”

You notice the wedding band on his left hand as soon as he says it. Above it, also in silver, is a familiar ring. If you weren’t able to see the family crest, you would’ve thought it was the same as Bucky’s, but this ring has an eagle and a star engraved on it, rather than the wolf you’ve seen on Rebecca and Bucky’s rings.

“Potatoes are a meal!” you argue. You can tell that Steve has clocked you looking at his rings because he shifts his hand, instinctively blocking your view as he looks for your own ring. You’d taken your parent’s ring off the day you’d cried in the bathtub and you haven’t worn it since, but no one in Bucky’s family has replaced it with their own. It’s the first time since middle school that you haven’t worn a family ring, and you’d be lying if you said it was a weight off your shoulders. You’d thought it might be, but instead it just makes you feel naked.

Steve laughs and his posture relaxes. He stops hiding his rings from you when he realizes your hands are bare. “Well, whenever you meet her, you can have that argument with her, because I’ve already had it at least a dozen times.” He closes the drawer and fixes his eyes on Bucky, who’s just finishing his food. “Speaking of, when are you two coming over? I promised Peg I’d wait until Y/N had settled in to ask, and you seem settled enough to me.” He glances at you for the last part, and you look down at your empty plate.

“It’s not up to me,” answers Bucky. “We’ll come over whenever Y/N is ready. This is the first time we’ve been together since my dad dropped the bomb on us.”

Steve pauses, his hands on the tablet he’d set down before starting to count the night’s profits. “Wait. Really?”

You nod when he looks at you, suddenly self-conscious again, and you pull your hands into your lap. “I haven’t been the best house guest…”

“You’re not a guest, Y/N. It’s your home now, too,” Bucky interjects.

Reaching over the counter, Steve smacks the side of Bucky’s head. His accent is thick when he huffs, “Íosa Críost, you thick! You didn’t think to go talk to her? To see if she wanted to watch a movie? To see if she needed anything?”

Bucky stammers over in his seat, and you keep your head ducked to hide your smile. Clearly, Steve knows more about being married than Bucky does—most likely from experience, since he’s already mentioned his wife—and he isn’t afraid to tell his friend off for not looking out for your well-being.

“I’m sorry!” exclaims Bucky, ducking another hit. “I wasn’t thinking!”

“Like ifreann you weren’t!” Steve retreats and picks up the tablet with a huff, then looks at you. “Y/N, I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with him. He’s actually a nice guy when he’s not being stupid.”

“Stupid?” Bucky protests beside you.

“I wouldn’t have talked to him even if he’d tried,” you admit, finally looking up, “but it wouldn’t have hurt if he had.”

Steve nods, satisfied with your response. He leaves you a minute later when his phone rings. The wide smile on his face is enough to tell you who’s on the other end, but then he says her name as he walks away, the phone already held to his ear.

“So what’s with this place?” you ask. The quick change in subject is purposeful, and you hope that Bucky will take the bait.

Thankfully, he does. Bucky glances around before finishing off the last of his drink and setting the empty bottle closer to Steve’s side of the bar.

“Well, Steve wanted a place that we—and other people like us—could spend time without feeling like there was always a fight about to happen. We didn’t have that growing up, you know? And now that he’s in charge, he can do what he wants with his money. Everything’s filed properly, he doesn’t advertise, and all employees are paid above the table. If other people show up, then sure, they’re welcomed in, but they’re also fully vetted once Steve gets their IDs. Weapons aren’t allowed, and there’s no shop talk of any kind.”

“So it’s your little hideaway,” you say, propping your head up with one hand. The heaviness of the potatoes combined with the alcohol is starting to make you sleepy, and the emotional exhaustion from the night has started to weigh heavy on you, too.

He smiles a little. “Something like that.”

Bucky stands and rolls his sleeves back down, then pulls on his glove. He pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket and sets it on the bar.

“Come on, doll. We should head home,” he says.

The warm feeling you’d felt when Bucky had called you his girl comes back, and you smile a little when he holds open his suit jacket for you. A little sheepish at the gesture, you slide off your seat and let him help you into the sleeves, then take Bucky’s hand when he offers it.

“Bye Steve!” you call, waving with your free hand.

Steve looks up from the other end of the bar, where he’s wiping down a counter with one hand and holding his phone with the other. He lets go of the rag to wave back.

Silently, Bucky leads you out to the front, where the valet already has his car pulled up. You’re not sure how they knew to have it ready, but you don’t dwell on it. Stranger things have happened in your world. Bucky tips the valets with another wad of cash before opening the passenger door and helping you in.

You fall asleep on the drive home. You don’t mean to, but Bucky turns on the radio a few minutes into the drive, and he lets the first station that comes on continue to play. The music is soft, and he drives so smoothly that it lulls you to sleep before you’re even fully out of the city.

When you wake, it’s because Bucky’s stubbed his toe on something, jostling you in his arms. He’s muttering curses under his breath and hobbling down the hallway, and though the jerking motion and his tightening grip isn’t the most comfortable for you at the moment, you keep your eyes closed and force yourself to keep your smile at bay. Bucky is a much sweeter guy than you’d first thought him to be, and it seems like he’s trying now to make up for lost time. You’d misjudged him at first; just like you, he has his own ways of dealing with the life forced on him by his parents, but he really is a gentleman underneath it all.

He carries you to your bedroom and carefully lays you on top of the covers. Then, as gently as possible, you feel him lift your foot and pry off the uncomfortable shoes Marta had picked out for you. Bucky stays totally silent as he takes the shoes off and sets them on the floor at the end of the bed. He pulls a thin blanket over you, one that you’re sure is just for decoration when the bed is made, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. You have to force yourself not to smile when he whispers,

“Goodnight, sleep tight.”

The door clicks shut as he closes it slowly, and you peek open an eye after a few seconds have passed. Your room is dark and empty. Silently, you smile to yourself and crawl under the covers, your eyes heavy. It’s been a long, exhausting evening, and you’re happy to be in bed. You fall asleep to the sound of spring rain on the estate windows and with Bucky’s jacket still wrapped around you.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky slowly enters your life in both big and small ways. He smiles at you over meals in the dining room and late night snacks in the kitchen. He drives you to the city to visit Steve, Peggy, and his other friends, and when he finds out that his father still has your license, Bucky argues with him for over an hour to get it back. Marta delivers your license to your room the very next day, along with a handwritten note that the dark blue Mercedes in the garage is there for your use. Sometimes, you wake up to a bouquet of flowers with another handwritten note. Sometimes it’s a text, and sometimes it’s a gift. Bucky develops a habit of purchasing anything you mention enjoying or even vaguely liking, and you eventually have to tell him to stop because he’s bought you so much that there’s nothing left to buy for yourself.

Bucky turns out to be a closer friend than anyone you’ve ever known. He’s kind, and funny, and intelligent, and he remembers all the little things about you that nobody else does. When you’re sick or feeling lonely, he’s attentive and his presence alone reminds you of all the good things in the world. He makes your days brighter, even the worst ones. You find yourself falling in love with him, much to your surprise. You admit this to him one day. He kisses you then, and he tells you that he’s been in love with you since the first trip you’d taken to Steve’s bar.

Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas roll around. New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, and Easter come and go. The Barnes’ grand celebrations for every holiday blur together as the months fly by, until eventually, it’s June and you’re standing in your room, staring at your reflection in the full-length mirror.

The wedding dress you’d picked out a few days after Christmas is just as beautiful as you remember it being. It fits you perfectly, thanks to the impeccable work of several tailors employed by Winnifred, and your hair and makeup are flawless as well. There’s no possible way you could’ve imagined how beautiful you look and feel on your wedding day.

Through the open window, you can hear a string quartet playing outside in the rose garden, where the ceremony is set up. Steve has already come by once to check on you at Bucky’s request, but both men are back downstairs. Bucky’s no doubt at the front of the garden with the priest—the one that you now know for certain is on your father’s payroll—and Steve is waiting with the rest of the wedding party. The only people remaining in your room are Marta, your mother, and Peggy.

You’ve grown to love Peggy more than any of your childhood friends. She didn’t grow up in the same world as you. She didn’t even grow up in the same country, and you love her all the more for it. She’s rational, cool-headed, and kind, though she’s not afraid to stand up for what’s right. On top of all that, she’s drop-dead gorgeous. It’s easy to see why Steve fell for her during his time in the military.

The quartet finishes the song and moves onto a new one, one that you recognize after only two notes. Your stomach drops and you close your eyes, gripping your bouquet tightly. It’s the song you’d been listening to the morning you’d found out about your engagement. You’d discovered it the night before, and you’d had it on repeat before going to sleep that night, then again that morning as you’d gotten ready. You’d even listened to it in the car on the drive from your parents’ estate.

Who added this to the playlist? Is this some kind of sick joke to them?

The same feeling of dread you’d felt that morning comes back, making your mouth dry and your head spin. You try to take a slow, deep breath to calm your nerves and block out the song, but it doesn’t work.

“Y/N?” Peggy asks.

You inhale sharply at the sound of her voice so close to you. She’d been texting Steve from near the window only moments before. You hadn’t thought that anyone would realize your distress, and you’d hoped to be able to collect yourself before it was noticeable. You hadn’t even sensed her coming closer.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell her, but your voice wavers and your lower lip quivers. You try to take another slow breath.

“What’s going on?” Marta asks. Her hand lands on your arm and you pull away, closing in yourself and pulling the bouquet tight against you.

Your mother’s scolding makes you feel like you’re a little kid again. “Careful, Y/N! You don’t want to ruin those flowers. We don’t have time to make another bouquet for you. George is already hounding your father about how soon after the ceremony you’ll be signing the certificate.”

Anger wells up in you at her thoughtless comment, and you open your eyes. She’s standing behind you in the main part of the bedroom, near the foot of your bed. Any guilt you might’ve felt over ruining the flowers is gone now, and you turn and chuck the bouquet at the carpet by her feet. It bounces once, then lays motionless in a heap of smashed petals and ribbons.

“Enough, Mother!” you shout.

Marta rushes to close the window so the guests in the garden won’t hear your outburst.

Your mother gapes at you, somewhat surprised, but she doesn’t budge. “Y/N, dear. What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” you yell, stepping closer. Your dress swishes as you walk, and you normally enjoy the sound, but you’re too furious to care how pleasing it is. “What are you doing? I am your only daughter! You should be treating me like a princess and worrying about how I’m feeling and what I need, but instead you’re too busy thinking about the damn flowers! I’m sick of you thinking of me like I’m an object you can sell, steal, and trade away whenever it’s most convenient! You and Dad are so obsessed with the timeline you’ve created for yourselves that you don’t even notice how much this has affected me! You didn’t even ask if this is what I wanted!”

She scoffs at you, and any trace of motherly care and concern has disappeared from her expression. Your mother is showing her true face—the mafia wife that has almost as much blood on her own hands as her husband does, if not more.

“It’s too late for that now, isn’t it?” she asks. She picks up her clutch from the end of your bed and steps closer until you're standing eye to eye. Her voice is patronizing and infuriating, and she continues, “It’s your wedding day, dearest, and you can’t back out now. We’ve made sure of it. Even James has agreed to the contract.”

Your anger wavers. “Contract?”

“Yes, the contract,” she repeats, smirking. Her cards are all on the table now, and she’s got a winning hand. You both know it.

There’s a malicious glint in her eye as she says, “It’s already in effect. It has been since we agreed on the marriage.”

“What contract? What are you talking about?” There’s a sinking feeling in your chest, like your heart has decided to drop into your stomach, then down to your feet and through the floor. Bucky hadn’t said anything to you about a contract, and you trusted him, but you certainly didn’t trust your parents anymore, nor did you trust George and Winnifred Barnes.

Your mother smiles, a sickeningly sweet smile that makes you want to puke. “That’s a conversation for another time. After all, it doesn’t even matter to you until James gets you pregnant.”

The alarm on your phone rings and you close your eyes, your hands trembling. You’d set that alarm to remind you when it was time to leave for the ceremony. Right on cue, the wedding planner knocks on the door to your bedroom.

“Y/N?” she calls, knocking again. “Are you ready?”

Slowly, you squat down and pick up the bouquet. It’s smashed on one side and the petals have fallen off of various flowers, but it’s mostly intact. It shakes as your hands tremble and tears well up in your eyes.

Marta appears in front of you, having pushed your mother out of the way, and over the ringing in your ears, you hear Peggy talking to the wedding planner. Somehow, you make it out to the ground floor of the estate, to the double doors that lead out to the rose garden. You’re dazed by your mother’s strange revelation. The sound of the alarm is still ringing in your ears. Peggy says something to you, but you can only stare straight ahead.

Your father is next to you then, as Peggy disappears through the doors and joins the rest of the wedding party. You see her glancing back at you, and whispering to the rest of the groomsmen and bridesmaids. Most of them are Bucky’s friends who have now become your own, and all of them look worried.

“Let’s go, princess,” your father says, and he pulls you forward by the arm.

Numbly, you follow his lead. Not even Bucky’s initially delighted expression shakes you out of your trance, but the way he rubs his thumb over your hands at the end of the aisle pulls you out of it just enough for you to lift your head and look around. You don’t remember walking to him, nor do you remember handing off your bouquet to Peggy, just like you’d practiced last night at the rehearsal.

“Y/N? Darling?” Bucky asks. He crouches and tilts his head slightly to try to catch your eyes. “You okay?”

“I—” Your mouth is still dry and you swallow, your eyes flitting from one place in the garden to another with no rhyme or reason. The world feels like it’s spinning and you clutch Bucky’s hands, unsure of what to do.

“Someone get her a chair,” Bucky orders, raising his voice enough that you flinch. He immediately starts murmuring reassurances to you, and he pulls you into his arms until he can lower you into a seat.

Someone fans you and a cool glass is pressed to your lips. You drink obediently, closing your eyes as the water helps the sandy feeling in your mouth abate just a little. When the water is gone, the glass is pulled away.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Bucky asks.

Slowly, carefully, you nod your head. He sighs in relief and when you open your eyes, he’s kneeling down in front of you. His shoulders are tense and his forehead is creased with worry. You’ve never seen him this stressed over anything and it makes you want to cry.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, heat flaming in your cheeks. You feel horrible. Bucky has been looking forward to the ceremony—he’d told you last night at the rehearsal dinner.

“It’s okay,” he quickly replies. He reaches forward and takes your hands, and you glance away from him to peek at the guests, your parents included, who are still watching you from their seats.

“Are you ready for this, or do you need a break?”

You look back at Bucky. “A break?”

“She’s fine,” your mother says, and you look over at her from your seat. She’s standing in the front row, her eyes fixated on the priest behind you. “They’re fine, Father. Y/N’s been a bit nervous all morning. Wedding day jitters, you know.”

“I—” You frown at her, still clutching Bucky’s hands. “That’s not what it is.” You look down at him and shake your head. “I’m not nervous to marry you.”

“I’m not nervous either,” he says with a small smile.

“Then shall we continue?” the priest asks.

You turn to shake your head at him. “No. I’m sorry, Father. I need to talk to Bucky—James—in private for just a minute. Is that alright?”

He smiles gently and nods. “Of course.”

There are more agitated murmurs from the crowd, but you ignore them as Peggy, Steve, and Bucky help you up and back down the aisle. When your mother moves to follow you, she’s blocked by Sam and Clint, another one of Bucky’s friends. She calls after you once, but you ignore her as Peggy helps you onto a bench inside, then leaves, closing the double doors behind herself. She’s handed back your bouquet, and you clutch it with both hands like it’s an anchor in the storm.

“Is everything okay?” Bucky asks. He stands near the door, and you can tell from the way he rolls his shoulders that he’s stressed. His prosthetic always bothers him more when he’s agitated, and you suddenly feel even worse about stopping the ceremony.

“Yes,” you say, but then you shake your head. “No, I’m sorry. Obviously, it’s not, or I wouldn’t have stopped everything. I’m sorry, Bucky, but I have to ask you something.”

“Okay…” There’s a wariness in his eyes, one that you loathe yourself for. You put it there, and you wish with all your might that your mother hadn’t told you what she did. Maybe then you wouldn’t have had to do this.

“Did you sign a contract? With our parents?”

He frowns and his whole body grows very still. “A contract?”

You nod. “Yes.” With your hands still fisted tightly around the bouquet, you inhale deeply and add, “A contract about getting me pregnant.”

“What?” Bucky’s furious response is immediate. He shakes his head, his eyes searching your face for any sign that you might be making this up. “Y/N, what are you talking about?”

“Did you sign a contract agreeing to marry me, and agreeing that my parents get something after you get me pregnant?” The words make you sick to your stomach. You haven’t eaten anything all day, which doesn’t help, but the thought of Bucky agreeing to something so vile… It’s enough to make anyone nauseous.

He’s shaking his head at you again. “Why the hell would I sign anything like that? Do you really think I would do that?”

You shrug a little and look down at the bouquet. “My mother…”

“Darling…” Bucky sighs and comes closer, and he kneels down in front of you again, just like he had outside. All the fight and anger has left his voice. “I would never do anything like that. Not in a million years, and especially not to you. I love you.”

“She said you signed it before they’d even told me we were engaged,” you said, quiet now that he’s so close. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, to see what his face might be telling you that his words aren’t.

“Can you look at me? Please?”

Reluctantly, you lift your eyes from the flowers in your lap to meet Bucky’s eyes. They’re just as blue as the ribbons wrapped around the flower stems, a choice you’d specifically made without the wedding planner’s guidance. You’d wanted him to be your “something blue”, even if it felt a little cheesy.

“Do you want to marry me?” Bucky asks.

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod. “Yes.”

“Do you believe me when I say I had nothing to do with that contract? That I didn’t know it existed?” he questions.

You nod again, tears forming in your eyes.

“And do you trust me to help you find a way to get rid of it, once all of this is over? Do you trust me to protect you?”

You nod for the third time, and Bucky takes both of your hands in his.

“Okay. Then let’s get married, and I swear to you that as soon as our honeymoon is over, the guys and I will start doing some digging.”

“What about me?” you ask, sniffling. You pull one of your hands away to dab at your eyes before the makeup can get too damaged by your tears.

“What about you?”

“Can I dig, too?”

Bucky chuckles and kisses your knuckles on the hand that he’s holding, and then he pulls himself up off the floor to sit beside you on the bench. He pulls you into a half-hug and you cling to him, sniffling and smiling as he rubs the your back and answers,

“You can do all the digging you want, doll. I’ll even hand you the shovel.”

Tá sé go maith tú a fheiceáil. = It’s good to see you.

Mo bhean chéile = My wife

Íosa Críost = Jesus Christ

Thick = A stupid person

Ifreann = Hell

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

I do not consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere other than my personal tumblr, Patreon, or ao3 accounts, it has been reposted without my permission.

If you want to support me further, consider buying me a ko-fi! My ko-fi is also under my SPN fanfiction blog, but I promise it’s me.

If you would like to be added to my tags, please send me a message or an ask! I tag for Everything, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson, and Peter Parker.

Forever: @aya-fay

Bucky Barnes: @lipstickandvibranium @valhalla-kristin @buckymcbuckbarnes

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alexa-fika · 4 months

Note

HAHA I FOUND ITTT

Anway 😏

I love how you write mihawk with a child, but mihawk in general! But curiosity kills the cat, n I'd love to see how reader interacts with crocodile and buggy more too :0?

A/N: Here we go, absolutely love how this one turned out; Buggy is not in this one because no matter how much I think of, there is just no scenario where Buggy would be with Reader!Dracule, not because of Buggy but because there is absolutely no way Mihawk would ever leave their child with Buggy or even allow Reader to be with him without, you know, getting a Buggy-ka-bob.

Dividers by @/saradika

Sandy Bonding ( gn!dracule!reader x Crocodile)

Crocodile sat behind his desk, the usual pile of paperwork piled on his desk as he went through the bounties until he heard knocking coming from the door.

“Come in,” he grunts out.

The child slowly pushes the door open, quickly noticing the absence of their father in the room.

Crocodile looks up from his paperwork just in time to see the child entering the room. He stares at the child before turning back to the papers and speaking to them without looking up.

“Your father is on a mission for now; he will return within the next 2 days. Now say what you want”. Crocodile’s voice is sharp, his attention more focused on working than the child.

The child stays quiet, fidgeting.

Crocodile glances up from the papers to see the child still standing there, seeming to have something in their mind.

“…and?” Crocodile asks in a low, grumbling voice, expecting the child to speak

They kicked at the ground.

“The noises woke me up,” they said, referring to the carnival-like chaos Buggy had been orchestrating outside

“How troublesome,” Crocodile grunts and flexes his finger repeatedly in a ‘come here’ motion

Reader hesitates for a second but eventually runs over to him

Crocodile grabs Reader gently and places them onto his lap, just as Mihawk had yesterday.

Crocodile’s grip was soft, reminding them of Mihawk’s calm but still firm handling.

He continues calmly.

“Now. Tell me, how was Buggy being “noisy”?”

Reader shrugs

“I think he was doing a circus.”

Crocodile stares in pure disbelief and sighs, his eyes narrow as he shakes his head at the explanation.

“Are you sure you didn’t just dream it? I will turn him to crumbles,” he sneers.

“Dad says that if he’s ever in my dreams, they are nightmares.”

Crocodile remains quiet for a moment; a small smirk of amusement escapes his lips. His grip tightens a bit, and the child suddenly feels the strong pulse of his heartbeat. Crocodile’s attention returns to the child

“It’s a nightmare keeping him alive, that’s for sure.”

Reader leans back into him, fidgeting with their hands.

He hums, seeing the child becoming fidgety.

Reader squeaks as they suddenly find themselves in the air suspended by Crocodile’s sands As it threw and played around with them

Reader squeals joyously at the airborne sensation.

Crocodile raises an eyebrow as he sees the child enjoying the sensation. He continues to manipulate them by the sand and move them in circles.

Crocodile’s sand seems like it has a mind of its own as it swirls around the child, picking them up from all directions in sync without hurting them.

He chuckled, returning his attention to the stack of papers before him.

“I thought you were mean, but I really like you, Uncle Crocodile!”

Crocodile continues manipulating the sand around the child, lifting them up and pulling them back down before they even realize it. The child’s excitement is quite evident on their face, and Crocodile cannot help but chuckle.

“Do you?” he asks in a low tone. The child nods their head rapidly, causing Crocodile to chuckle again. He lifts his hand, making another “come here” motion, causing the sand to wrap around the child as he brings them level to his face.

“Why do you find me amusing?”

“Because Uncle Crocodile didn’t turn me away and reminds me of Dad. Both have a scary, grumpy face, but they care for me!”

Crocodile remains silent for a few seconds, his eyes narrowing as he thinks about what the child said. It’s rare for him to get compliments; his reaction to it is usually indifference, but somehow, this time, he doesn’t seem like he’s annoyed, nor is he trying to shrug off the comment.

He stares at the child for a few moments before finally answering.

“…Then you are welcome to see me more often.”

“Yay! So can I call you Cruncle?”

“Don’t push It, brat,” he says, manipulating the sand, turning the reader upside down, listening to their gleeful giggles as he swings them.

The cruncle nickname was a really funny reply that @littleleelee posted in response to my Uncle Crocodile idea!

#one piece x reader #one piece x child!reader #one piece fluff #one piece imagine #one piece #sir crocodile #crocodile one piece #op crocodile #crocodile x reader #crocodile x child!reader #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x child!reader #crocodile x y/n #crocodile x you #sir crocodile x y/n #sir crocodile x you #crocodile x gn reader #one piece x gn reader #one piece x gender neutral reader

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boozenboze · 1 year

Note

If it's alright- how about the 141 boys reaction to the reader having a pretty large scar on the side of their face? (it could really be from whatever you'd like/feel comfortable writing ^^)

Scar Faced

Task Force 141 x Male reader

Summary:M/n had gotten a scar while on a mission with some new soilders.Now that he’s back at the base and not looking anyone in the eye he started making the others worried

Females She/Her and She/They DNI

M/n and his team and had came back and they needed immediate medical attention.M/n was unconscious when they arrived and he had attained a large scar on his eyes.It was a pretty big,going down from his eye all the way to his lip.When he had woke up in the infirmary he immediately jumped out of his bed,pulling out all the cords and tubes connected to him.He looked outside of a window and once he approached it he was able to see his own reflection he saw a large wrapping of bandages around his right eye.He started to make his way towards the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror.He began to untie the knot that kept the bandages up on his eye,and now that he had a clear view of his eye he almost passed out.His eye looked cloudy and he could just barely see out of it.

The scar he had now was stitched all over and it almost made him want to gag.He could’ve been cool but at the moment he thought it was quite disgusting.

A few days had gone by and M/n successfully found a way to cover the scars.He had gotten his hands on some shades and a face mask that covered his face quite nicely.The rest of 141 had just seen him yesterday since he was able to leave the infirmary.They were all quite curious as to why he’d wear it.

“Maybe he’s tryna be like Ghost.”Gaz spoke out while Soap shook his head in disagreement.

“Nah,M/n couldn’t be like him the guys to friendly.”Soap said as M/n read his book that he had aquired after leaving the infirmary.

“Imma go ask em’ about it aight?”Gaz spoke out while going in the direction M/n was going in.M/n had taken a seat on the couch in the main room currently trying to take his mind off of the scar he now had on his face.Gaz came into the room,wrapping his arms around the h/c haired males shoulders.M/n looked up at the male who looked back down at him with a smile before planting a kiss on his forehead.

“Do you need something Gaz?”M/n asked sweetly as Gaz threw himself over the sofa before laying his head on the h/c haired males lap.M/n chuckled,placing his book to the side before pulling the Brit’s hat off and scratching his scalp.Gaz hummed in response before asking.

“What’s up with all the accessories?”Gaz spoke out making M/n sigh response.

“Explosion fucked my eye up pretty badly.”M/n responded as the others walked into the room.

“Can we see it?”Gaz spoke out gathering Soaps attention.

“See what?”He asked out in the same curiosity Gaz had.

“I was asking M/n if he could show us the scar on his face.”Gaz spoke out as M/n chucked, a bit insecure about the scar he had.

“Well go ahead and show it,no judging here.”Ghost spoke out gruffly as M/n sighed in response as he took off his shades and mask to reveal the now diamond shaped scar that was adhered to his face.The sight pulled shock out of everybody and Gaz rose his hand up and started tracing it with his finger.

“Ye keek magic!”Soap spoke out now getting up close to further examine the scar.

“That must’ve been one hell of a hit to gain a scar like that muppet.”Price spike out as M/n nodded in response.

“Ya look badass M/n,fuckin sexy bastard.”Gaz spoke again while M/n blushed in embarrassment.

“I’d have to agree M/n you look stunning.”Price said as Ghost walked behind him and ran a hand threw his hair,massaging his scalp.

“I...appreciate it guys thank you....”M/n spoke out,happy that they didn’t judge him.

This only confirms they love you no matter what

#gay #cod x male reader #gaz x male reader #male reader #lgbtq #male y/n #mw2 x male reader #soap x male reader #ghost x male reader #captain price x male reader

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octuscle · 1 month

Note

Hi, im a 19 yo nerd, yesterday some kids wre playing with a soccer ball in front of my house, the ball got into the garden of my house and when i threw it out, i didnt nlticed i threw it a bit far and it arrived into the house across the street, breaking a window, the neighbor, a single man, came to my house and told my parents what i did, he demands i repair the window by myself, i dont know how to do that, can you give me a little help?

First of all, you do what you do best. You sit down at your computer. Enter "repair soccer window" into Google. A lot of things come up that won't help you at all. Care tips for footballs. And advertisements for household contents and liability insurance. The soccer care thing doesn't look very helpful, but it might be interesting.

Shit, you can waste a lot of time on the Internet very quickly. After half an hour, you're back to the current and upcoming match day in the Premier League. But you still don't know anything about repairing windows. "Repairing windows". Perhaps it would help to remove soccer from the search query. It doesn't matter why the window is broken. It just needs to be repaired.

Now we're getting closer to the point. Lots of tutorials on youtube. Surely there's something there. Unfortunately, you don't even know what kind of window is broken. And what exactly is broken. Damn, just how many different types of window panes there are. You can find an article about German windows. They have a lot of damn cool features. I wonder if that would be a market to sell and install German ones here. What this tilt function is supposed to do is still not clear to you. But these shutters on the windows are hot shit. You'd like to install something like that at your parents' house.

You're guaranteed not to install something from Schüco for a few thousand dollars in your neighbor's house… You're assuming that your neighbor will have vertical sliding windows in most of the rooms, just like you do. Probably made of aluminum. A shame, really. Horizontal sliding windows made of wood with glazing bars would fit the character of the house much better.

Haven't you ever worked for your neighbor? You must still have plans and views from the street side. Or at least a photo. Yes, here. Where were you standing again? How hard did you throw the ball? What was the wind like? Just because you did an apprenticeship as a carpenter doesn't mean you're stupid. So it's probably the window of the study on the second floor. Yes, it must have been rotten, you can see that quite clearly in the photo. Just replacing the glass won't help much.

Nowadays, working on the computer is half the battle. Calculating material requirements, programming saws for cutting. And downloading some porn in between. Hehehe, unlike your father, you don't need to hang up raunchy calendars in the workshop anymore. Your father is hardly ever seen here anyway. It's no longer his world. In his day, a carpenter needed a hammer and a saw, he used to say. Old man, those days are long gone.

Before you start, you went to your neighbor's house across the street. Real life is sometimes more reliable than virtual life. But it was the right window, you measured it again with your laser measuring device. You had miscalculated by a few millimeters. You are a craftsman with passion and dedication. You don't mess around. You deliver precision work.

"Mr. T, better than before my throw," you say with a grin. But it's the pure truth. But you know exactly why your neighbor insisted that you carry out the repair. He'll do anything to get you to fix things in his house. And when no more chairs tip over and no more doors squeak, you'll take care of Mr. T. yourself.

He asks if you can have a look at the shower after the window. While you take off your dungarees, you say that you are a carpenter and not a plumber. You will probably need help. You don't have to ask Mr. T for long.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #tank top #ai image #nerd to jock

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iwritefandomimagines · 30 days

Text

NOT A GAME — JESS MARIANO

based on a request

masterlist

pairing: jess mariano x reader

description: the playful banter was fun at first, but the line had blurred so long ago that you were starting to get sick of wondering how jess really felt. luckily for you, he’s been thinking the same thing.

warnings: angst into fluff, jess being annoying in a way that makes me love him more lol, swearing ofc,

author’s note: thank you so much for this request, i hope it does jess justice for you— i love writing him so much. i hope you enjoy — sorry it’s quite short i just wanted to keep it short n sweet

———

“Well that’s two hours of my life I’m never getting back, huh,” Jess took a final sip of the drink he’d been cradling for the whole film and threw it dramatically in the trash, his arm slung around your shoulder, “Think I aged like fifteen years in the time they took to wrap up that fuckin’ terrible plot.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling away from him and discarding your own empty cup as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and eyed you curiously, “What, don’t tell me you actually enjoyed that?”

“It wasn’t that bad,” you shrugged, “You’re just being pretentious.”

His brows furrowed at that — he hated when you of all people called him pretentious, and he knew you only ever did it to wind him up.

“Okay, what have I done?” Jess huffed, “You so didn’t enjoy that film, you’re just trying to piss me off. What did I do?”

You looked down at your feet with a grunt, “Nothing.”

“Despite my sweet baby face, I wasn’t born yesterday Y/N. It’s not nothing.”

The truth was that he had done something.

In fact, he was always doing the exact thing that had just tipped you over the edge.

“Fine, Jess,” you drew in a sharp breath, “I just— I don’t want to play this game anymore.”

“Have I missed something or was that movie just so dull that it corroded your brain?” Jess kicked a stone as he watched the frown on your face, “‘Cause I don’t remember playing any games. Not even footsie. What are you talking about?”

You scoffed, “That, Jess. Exactly that!”

“Woah, woah, c’mon Y/N. You’re going to have to give me more than just snapping at me. What the hell have I done?” Jess was growing increasingly frustrated now, but so were you.

You pressed a palm to your forehead, “I’m— What was that in there?”

“I was asking the same question,” Jess’ perplexed expression made your own angered one soften a little.

“What is this? Me and you?” you looked down at the floor as you posed this question, not wanting to argue any longer and too afraid wanting to see his reaction, “Because I’m sick of playing games and not knowing. You put your arm around me at the cinema, you share your popcorn with me when you’d like—literally snarl at anyone else if they asked, we kind of flirt like all of the time but we’re just friends.”

“Just friends, huh?”

You almost felt silly when you looked up at him and saw a smug smile on his face — almost.

But you were trying to open up to him and he was being just as irritating about your relationship as he always was.

“Jess…”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, taking your hand and pulling you around the corner to a park bench where he tugged you to sit down beside him.

“Do you seriously think we’re just friends, Y/N?” he was so close to you that you were sure he could hear your heart palpitations and see the goosebumps springing up on your skin.

“Well we’re not enemies, we spent a fuck ton of time together, and we’re not dating. So yeah, I’d like to think we’re friends,” you huffed, still avoiding his gaze.

He shook his head, “Why the hell do you think I invited you to see a fuckin’ romcom I’d never want to watch? Why do you think I asked to share popcorn? I know I’m the intellectually superior one here,” he paused to nudge your side as if to ensure you understood he was teasing, “But I didn’t think you were dumb enough to miss that I was obviously trying to make this a date.”

You bit your lip, finally returning his eye contact as his soft eyes stared intently into yours.

You drew in another deep breath, “Sure. Jess Mariano, Mr. Always Speaks His Mind, failed to tell me it was apparently a date so I’m dumb for not reading his mind?”

Neither of you had noticed that he was still holding your hand until that moment, and so he pulled it to the corner of his mouth and gave the back of your hand a gentle kiss.

Despite the unfamiliarity of this small but romantic gesture, your heart swelled in your chest and it almost felt natural.

“Y/N, I’ve liked you for fuckin’ ages. Everyone knows that. We flirt and we act like there’s nothing going on when people ask, but I thought at the very least you knew how I really felt,” Jess shrugged, not releasing your hand and instead now rubbing his thumb over the back of it.

You didn’t retreat from his touch, but used your interlocked hands to shove his chest gently, “You’re an asshole, you know that right?”

The small smile tugging at your lips eased the anxiety that had begun to set in. He’d almost started to fear that you didn’t actually feel the same, but your unsteady breathing and the glint in your eye confirmed the opposite.

“I know, I know,” he rolled his eyes, “But that’s all just part of the elusive charm that made you fall madly in love with me, isn’t it?”

You shook your head, “Cocky, aren’t you?”

“Well in my defence, the prettiest girl in Stars Hollow has, like, totally got the hots for me,” your heart fluttered at the smirk still gracing his features, “Hard not to have an ego.”

You just chuckled softly in reply, your heartbeat still racing as he watched you carefully. His own gaze softened now, and he reached his free hand up to cup your cheek.

“Look, in all seriousness I’m sorry this has been so— well, just that I haven’t been more direct about this stuff. But you know me, you know I’m bad at—,”

You squeezed the hand that was still in yours, “I know, Jess. It’s alright. I really like you, and to be honest I’ve been happy enough with any excuse to be close to you.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, leaning forward a little, “Can I kiss you, then? Make up for a shitty first date?”

You blushed crimson at the fact he’d asked, your cheek growing hot beneath his touch, “Of course.”

His lips met yours gently, as though testing the waters. You met his kiss with the same softness at first, but quickly the kiss grew more urgent — as though making up for lost time.

When you finally pulled away, your face was still bright red, and you felt almost embarrassed by how overcome with emotions you were.

“So, uh, about the film?”

He laughed, the loud affectionate laugh he reserved only for you, warming your heart as he sent you a teasing grin and licked his lips.

“And here I was thinking I’d be the one to ruin the moment, huh?”

———

thanks sooo much for reading — i hope this was okay! sorry for the radio silence for a while, i’ve had a lot going on and a LOT of unfinished drafts.

if you wanna read more of my stuff — here’s my masterlist!

#jess mariano #jess mariano imagines #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano x you #jess mariano x y/n #gilmore girls #gilmore girls imagine #gilmore girls imagines

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lavendertom · 5 months

Text

The Neighbor Across the Street pt. 5

Mike Schmidt x Babysitter!f!Reader

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 6

wc: 3.6k

warnings: angst, little bit sad (if y’all can stick thru this ONE part 🫶), fluff sprinkled in some parts (as always, lmk if there’s anything i’ve missed)

summary: the neighbor across the street needs a babysitter, so you take the job, not knowing what’s in store for you as you grow closer to the siblings. AU where nothing bad ever happens at the pizzeria.

A/N: this is gonna be the “hard” chapter, but it’ll all be worth it for part 6, the official finale of the series 🥹 no worries tho, i still plan on expanding the story once it’s over!!!

——————————————————————————

You could barely focus in any of your classes today. Your mind was full of thoughts about one person and one person only: Mike. All of the things that happened in such a short amount of time were eating you alive. You couldn’t take any of it anymore. In a way, you wished Abby hadn’t told you about her secret. You didn’t want something as silly as a “crush” to get in the way of your goal of keeping Abby and Mike happy.

As you drove home from your classes, you didn’t know what to expect that evening. You knew he probably wanted to clear up whatever had happened the other evening. Maybe he just wanted to tell you he was sorry for not paying you again. But then why did he want you there an hour early? What on earth could he want to talk about for a whole hour with you?

You only ever had two serious conversations with him in the two months or so of knowing him, the one the first night shift of babysitting Abby and during your walk with him just a few days ago.

There was that voice, all the way at the back of your head, that was telling you something completely different. There was a voice that was saying this had to do with Abby’s secret. You attempted to quickly get it out of your head, your hands getting sweaty at the thought as you continued driving home. You hated to admit this was making you more nervous than it should’ve been.

The thought of him waiting at his door until you got home crept into your head once more. The way he saw how you looked back one last time like you’d done every time before. How often did he wait at the door like that? Did he genuinely care about you that much to wait?

When you got home you had an hour until you knew you’d have to be at Mike’s house. Of course today was one of those days where your professors just knew you were having an off day and assigned what felt like 10x more work than usual. You hesitantly took out all of your textbooks and notebooks in an attempt to knock out a few assignments before you left.

As you sat down, something hanging on the headboard of your bed caught your attention. The black hoodie Mike had lent you was there. You truly intended on giving it back to him yesterday since you’d accidentally wore it home the other night. Whether you forgot it by chance or on purpose you couldn’t even remember anymore.

It sat there like a painful reminder of not knowing what was to come later. He said it wasn’t anything bad, but maybe he just didn’t want to stress you out. What if he had to quit the night job, therefore leaving you jobless? You didn’t want to leave them hanging. You didn’t care if you were getting paid consistently or not. You just wanted to be there for them. That was all that mattered to you now.

You continued to sit there, looking at the hoodie, thoughts racing through your mind with no signs of stopping. The textbooks and notebooks all over your desk were never opened, you didn’t have the energy now at least. Not when your leg wouldn’t stop bouncing and stomach was twisted into knots. You kept telling yourself “It’s just your imagination, everything is fine. Everything will be okay.” It was already almost time for you to go, so you threw all the books back into your bag, grabbed the hoodie, and made your way over.

The feelings were mutual back at Mike’s house. Mike wasn’t sure why he felt so anxious about having to talk to you. It really wasn’t a big deal at all. He just wanted to clear up last night and, well, some other things too. He was just as scared of the unknown as you were. The kitchen smelled like pasta cooking as he tried his best to distract himself by making Abby’s dinner. Just incase the conversation went really bad and you didn’t want to stay. Not that he was anticipating that it would go badly.

He stirred the spaghetti as the water bubbled, focusing as best he could on everything but his thoughts.

“Mike why are you making dinner tonight?” Abby interrupted standing by the fridge.

“Thought I’d give Y/n a break for one night.” he said, still looking down at the pot of boiling water.

“She makes it so much better than you do though.” Abby started whining.

“Beggars can’t be choosers Abs.” he said with a sigh.

“What does that mean?” Abby said with a confused tone to her voice.

“Life’s not fair, that’s what it means. You either eat my pasta or nothing.”

He could practically hear the girl roll her eyes in response.

“Well, I’m not hungry right now.”

Now she’s just being a smart ass, Mike thought to himself.

“Good thing Y/n can warm it up for you later when I’m gone.”

“I don’t want to eat it later though. It’s gonna be gross later.” she crossed her arms now, she knew what she was doing.

“Well you’re either gonna eat it now, later, or never. This is what you’re getting for dinner.” Mike was getting more impatient with her sudden attitude.

“Your pasta is gross Mike I’m not eating it.”

“Whatever. I don’t care anymore, don’t eat it.” Way to ruin this evening Abby.

“Why do you have to be so-“

“Abby, just stop! I’m not having this today. Go to your room.” he didn’t realize how much he rose his voice at her. Arguing wasn’t uncommon for them, but he rarely, if ever, rose his voice this much at her. He looked back at her, the young girls eyes were welling with small tears. This evening already wasn’t going as planned and Y/n hadn’t even arrived yet.

“I hate you Mike!” Abby shouted before running to her room, slamming the door shut.

Mike took a deep breath, putting a hand over his face. Why did he always have to mess everything up? He should’ve never asked Y/n to come over early. If he hadn’t asked, then this situation would’ve never happened. He should’ve just let the situation go. He looked back at the pot of spaghetti, the water still bubbling, finally deciding to shut off the stove.

He looked at the landline phone hanging on the wall beside the fridge. It was almost calling his name to pick it up, dial your number, and tell you not to come by anymore. He stepped forward reaching out a hand to pick up the phone. Just before he could start dialing the numbers he heard a door slowly and quietly open.

He looked at the clock on the stove, quickly realizing what time it was. There was no escaping the situation now, for either of you. He walked out of the kitchen, now in the dining room as he watched you shut the door and set down your backpack.

“Hey.” you said in almost a whisper, your usual smile on your face to hide the nervousness that still lurked deep down.

Just like that, time felt slower than ever before for Mike. Honestly, every time he saw you it began feeling more and more like that. It wasn’t like you tried to dress to impress or anything like that. The only times you had a remotely “nice” outfit on were the first few days of babysitting and extremely occasionally after that. Even then, it was nothing more than a pair of jeans and a somewhat nicer t-shirt or sweater.

Your hair was in a low messy ponytail, loose strands of hair falling out of the scrunchie. You wore a t-shirt with your college’s name plastered across the front and extremely baggy black sweatpants. This was a look that was all too familiar to Mike. The days you wore outfits like this were days that school was beating your ass. Those were the days he’d come home and find you still finishing up work at the dinning room table far too late in the night.

The way that an outfit so simple and, for lack of better terms, lazy, could make Mike feel this way felt like a crime to him. He was convinced that any other outfit imaginable would not compare to this. There was no way to explain this, but this just felt different to him.

Maybe it was because of your determination and drive for success. It was something he didn’t see in himself. Maybe he envied that you had that in you and he didn’t. He saw how hard school was. He saw that no matter how hard it got, you were still there on time every time. He wished so much he had that level dedication in him.

That’s when his eyes turned to your hand. It was holding the black hoodie he let you borrow when you stayed for s’mores. He had honestly forgotten he even gave you it, but now he was wondering why you’d brought it back. He really didn’t mind if you’d kept it. Now thinking about it, he wanted you to keep it.

“You didn’t have to make dinner Mike, you know I’ve got it.” your voice, still quiet making sure Abby wouldn’t hear your presence, broke the thoughts in Mikes head and brought him back to reality.

“Yeah, um, about that…” he began, sighing heavily.

“We need to talk.” you immediately noticed the tension that was now forming.

“Yeah.” he pulled a chair out of the dining table for you, and you both quietly sat down.

You both sat in silence for a minute or so. You waited for him to start talking and you were going to give him as long as he needed to gather his thoughts. You focused on the salt and pepper shakers in the middle of the table.

“I’m sorry.” he finally spoke up.

“Why are you sor-“

“Let me explain before you try telling me I have nothing to be sorry about.” he interrupted, his volume significantly louder than before.

You didn’t say anything back, you were ready to let him say whatever he needed to say because clearly he needed it.

“It’s just-“ he paused again, putting his face into his hands. He took a deep breath attempting to gather his thoughts and emotions before he spoke again. He wasn’t going to let them ruin this conversation.

“I don’t deserve you, Y/n.” you finally looked up. Those incredible brown eyes met yours. They almost appeared to have tears forming in them.

“You do so much for us Y/n. You’re here on time every day, no matter how much you had going on during the day. You’re always willing to do literally anything with Abby. All of the dumb things I’ve said no to her about, you’ve said yes. You’re the mother figure she never had. She doesn’t act the same way around me as she does with you. She deserves this so much more than I do. She needs you, Y/n. I don’t deserve any of this. I can rarely pay you on time. I’m putting you in this horrendous situation where you go to class every day, then you come home for 2 hours max and babysit for the entire night. You’re working literally 2 jobs and you didn’t even want this. I accidentally threw you into it, you should’ve just not taken it. It’s not fair. And yesterday when I stormed out without explaining anything, that wasn’t fair either.”

“Mike-“

“You deserve more Y/n. You deserve the world. You have so much motivation and determination in you it’s actually insane. You’re always smiling, always trying to be kind and helpful. You put others before yourself. I just feel that someone like me, the complete opposite of you, doesn’t deserve to have you in my life. I have not even an ounce of dedication or care inside of me. You don’t deserve to have to put up with all my crap. You just don’t Y/n.” he stopped, still looking you in the eyes.

You really wanted to break down and sob. How could he think he’s worth nothing? How does he not see all the effort and care he puts into taking care of Abby? He’s trying a whole lot harder than other people who have half the worries in life that he has.

“How long have you felt this way?” you said quietly, you knew if you spoke any louder than a whisper you’d start crying.

“Since the moment you first came by to try out the job.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” small, but noticeable tears were now falling down your face. “You’ve felt this way for almost 2 months and you didn’t say a word?”

“Y/n, please don’t-“

“What do you mean ‘please don’t?’ How am I supposed to brush past this knowing you’ve felt like this for 2 months now?” You wiped the tears off of your face.

Mike was now looking down at the table, avoiding your face at all costs. He knew if he saw you that way, it would be over for him. It was never his intention to make you feel this way, he knew you would care, but he didn’t think you’d care this much.

“Mike, look at me right now.”

His eyes hesitantly met yours. Your heart was beating so fast you could hear it in your head.

“You are the most thoughtful, caring, most determined person I’ve ever met. You sacrifice so so much for Abby and you don’t even realize it. When I talk to Abby, I hear all about a big brother who pours his heart out just for her to be happy. She is so incredibly lucky to have someone who dedicates so much of his time and energy just to make her happy. You didn’t ask for this and I know you’ve been through hell and back, but you do everything for that girl. No matter how much you think she doesn’t see it, you are genuinely her whole world. I have never, ever, met someone so caring in my life. You don’t have to do any of it, yet you are so selfless that you do it.”

“Then why does she hate me? Why does she always say so much about how great you are and how much she loves your cooking more than mine? Why are we always arguing over the stupidest things?”

“That’s what siblings are for Mike.” you said with an airy laugh through your tears. “After I came over to hearing your argument I went to talk to Abby. She said how she thought you hated her, how you’re always working and never do stuff with her anymore. I told her to look at all of the amazing things you do for her, all of the toys and art supplies she is lucky enough to have. I asked her who gets her all of these things. Who works their ass off for her to have the greatest childhood ever? You do, Mike. She just doesn’t know how to put that into words or actions. We’re gonna work on that though, okay?” you reached across the table to grab his hands and held them in yours.

“You need to give yourself a whole lot more credit. All I want is for you guys to be okay.” you smiled, tears still running down your face. “I just want to help you guys in any way I can. I don’t care how much I get paid or how often I get paid, that doesn’t matter to me anymore Mike. I just want to be there for the two of you.”

After all he said, after his vulnerability showed the underlying jealousy he had for you and your kindness you did it once again. You put others before yourself. He didn’t realize you were not going to give up.

“This is exactly why I don’t deserve you.”

“Quit saying that, you deserve me just as much as Abby does.” you squeezed his hands, reassuringly smiling at him. “You’re not getting rid of me.”

All he really wanted to do in this moment was to get up and kiss you. You believed in Abby, and in him, when you didn’t have to. No one was forcing you to do any of this and to know you were taking it upon yourself from the kindness in your heart made Mike feel even crazier for you. You were one of the first people to show genuine care and love to him and Abby since their parents passed away.

“I love you Y/n.”

Those 4 words came out with no thought, no hesitation, no control. It just felt right.

You were both shocked, yet relieved to hear those words. Your next 4 words didn’t have much thought to them either

“I love you too Mike.” you said, not hesitating either. It didn’t feel forced in the slightest, it felt right for both of you. You honestly couldn’t believe what had just happened and neither could Mike. Neither of you would admit it, but you weren’t even sure what to do next.

“Well it took you guys long enough.” a small voice peeped from behind you.

You turned around to see Abby, standing with her arms crossed, a smug look on her face.

“Abby, how long have you been here?” Mike said, quickly letting go of your hand he still had in his.

“Long enough to hear you and Y/n say you love each other.” she said, smiling wide and giggling. “I am so happy you finally told Y/n you have a crush on her! Or did Y/n tell you she has a crush on you?” her eyes lit up with excitement.

“Well, I wouldn’t necessarily say that’s what happened but-“

“Oh, he definitely was the one who told me first.” you smirked after interrupting.

“But who decided to hold hands first?” he quickly responded, returning you a small smirk.

Your face began burning up as you buried your face in your hands for a moment, but you also couldn’t help but laugh. Leave it up to Abby to be little miss matchmaker. Of course she’d sneak her way in to finally see her hard work come together. Once Mike realized there was no point in hiding anything anymore, he grabbed your left hand again and held it in his. It felt almost freeing, like a weight was lifted off of him in multiple ways, to be able to hold your hand.

“Also, I’m hungry.” she chimed in quickly, with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

You and Mike both looked at each other, knowing that the pasta he attempted to cook was probably off the table now. It was also almost time for Mike to go to work now, which he really didn’t want to do anymore, but there was no other choice.

“I’ll just order you guys a pizza.” he said with a smile, a genuine smile. “Y/n doesn’t need to be cooking for you after this, and I know you won’t eat whatever I can make in 10 minutes Abs.”

Abby began jumping around with pure excitement. Probably a little too excited after just offending Mike’s cooking, but that didn’t matter anymore. As long as she was happy and you were happy, Mike was gonna be happy. He was going to start changing his attitude about everything and he wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else than you. It wasn’t going to be easy, but was gonna try his very best.

“You sure Mike? I don’t mind cooking.” you replied.

“Really Y/n?” he said, sarcastically rolling his eyes.

“Okayyy fineee.” you said holding out the endings extra long, just for dramatic effect.

“Thank you Mike!” the Abby shouted, running up to his chair to give him a hug. Mike smiled at you as the young girl clung onto him.

“Thank you.” he mouthed to you.

You gave him a soft smile in response. You looked down at the black hoodie still in your lap. You brought it in the case he wanted it back, but after the conversation you two just had, there’s a good chance he’d want you to have it. Whether that was his original intention for you to keep it or not, you decided you would keep it. A constant reminder of who you were doing this for. Taking this job, you didn’t know what you were getting yourself in to. You also didn’t know why you were so nervous for this conversation. It couldn’t have gone any better. You were ready to go through whatever hardships and challenges you had to for your two favorite neighbors.

——————————————————————————

A/N: get ready for part 6 hopefully before thanksgiving 🥳🫶 also trust i see all of ur comments and i wish i could reply to ALLL of them, but i don’t wanna flood the comments! sending each and every one of u and virtual hug rn and love! 🫂 if anyone wants a little preview of what’s to come, check out of my first work my favorite prize, those r the vibes i am going for in part 6 🤗

jules jewels (tag list! lmk if u want to be added or removed 🤗)

@balesita @universi8 @browneyedgirly93 @marsmallow433 @prongsprincessworld @ajlareads @k3nnlolz @louweasleymalfoy @chompwoman @wasabidottie @queenie-official @emmaishere432 @curasimp @nevvdrinksteaa @rcailleachcola @scribblesandsherlock @iheartyouyou @prosteticsynthesis @novausstuff @dessxoxsworld @1-akira-2 @starringo @planetevermore @cherriebat @mxrvelouss

#fnaf #fnaf movie #mike schmidt #abby schmidt #josh hutcherson #five nights at freddy’s movie #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf fic #five nights at freddy's #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt has my heart #reader and mike schmidt should kiss already 🫣

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gurugirl · 9 months

Text

A Good Boy | 2. No Panties?

Summary: Harry goes to visit Y/n and his father for dinner. He tries to be on his best behavior in front of Leo but Y/n is the one that can't hold back.

Note: This is stepmon!reader x stepson!harry - proceed with caution and don't read if you don't like it. Read Part 1 first!

Word Count: 8,857

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, inappropriate & forbidden relationship, age gap, cheating, lying

A Good Boy Masterlist

think I interrupted your dad and yn having sex when I was leaving yesterday. so embarrassed :(

Harry sat in the library at the University and grinned to himself at the text from Leslie. He was scrambling to finish up his essay that was due later that day. He’d slacked off a bit on Sunday. But he felt that had been worth it. He’d already mostly had his paper done anyway. He just needed to format it and add his citations. Maybe an extra sentence or two and clean up his conclusion. But yeah. Worth it.

He felt like his face was still burning hot and he definitely had a hickey on his clavicle. His t-shirt covered the blue mark but he could still feel her lips on his skin and… well… he could also still smell her. Her perfume. Traces of sex. He hadn’t had time to shower before he left that morning. He’d gotten a little sidetracked when he had her sitting in his lap on the kitchen stool and they were coming together one last time before he had to go. It was as if they hadn’t been sharing their bodies with one another for the better part of the day on Sunday and into the wee hours. He loved that she enjoyed him so much. That she’d been able to come (massive ego boost). That she liked his cock (great big, huge ego boost). He really liked her voice when she was panting dirty words to him and the way she used her tongue to get him off and to paint saliva over the inked designs on his skin.

He swallowed hard as he clicked to save the document and sighed. He knew he was in trouble. Because she was his stepmom and he couldn’t really have her. Couldn’t pursue her and invite her to his dorm. Couldn’t visit her on a whim and beg her to do that thing she did with her-

“Harry,” his thoughts were interrupted when he heard Jay and looked up to see his friend, “Tried calling you yesterday, dude. We all went out to brunch. The one that you were supposed to come to. For your birthday? Remember?” Jay sat down across from him with his own laptop.

“Ahh shit. I forgot man. Sorry.” He did forget. He had been quite preoccupied with Y/n all day. And even if he had remembered he wouldn’t have peeled himself away from her to join his friends for an overpriced, subpar brunch to drink away their hangovers. He could do that on any Sunday. But the chance to have his stepmom in her bed all day with her smooth skin and her soft voice in his ear and her tits in his face… well that was not such a common Sunday activity.

“Got hung up with Leslie then?” Jay raised a brow and smirked before looking at his screen.

Harry scratched the back of his neck and blinked his eyes. He hadn’t thought of what he’d say about what happened. And he really wanted to brag that he’d finally had sex. Over and over again. But he couldn’t, “Uh… sort of. I just drank a lot. But… yeah. The hangover was brutal. Spent most of the day in bed.” At least that last part was true.

“You didn’t get laid? Leslie would’ve you know. And she’s a nice girl too. I know you’re looking for someone sweet. She’s into you, H,” Jay shook his head.

Harry decided to not entertain that line of thinking, “I am sorry, though, man. Just completely slipped my mind. Barely made it here this morning. It was a long day yesterday.”

. . .

Y/n threw her sheets into the wash and showered Harry’s scent off her body. Which was a shame because she liked the reminder of him. Her little secret. Not so little really, but quite massive in fact. The secret that is. Of course.

She hated that he needed to go. That he was such a good student and that he took his studies seriously. He had an essay to finish. But also, on the other side of that feeling, she was glad he’d gone when he did because it gave her time to freshen up and get her mind on straight before Leo got home.

Harry had been an absolute surprise to her. Hell, she was a surprise to herself. She’d never done anything so… forbidden. But god was it erotic and it felt so good. Better than good. She was fucked. Even then, she couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face as she sat on The Stool™ and picked at her eggs. Not two hours prior she was coming around him and giving him permission to come inside of her. In that very spot. She wiggled over the stool remembering how his fingers dug into her thighs as he held her steady and moaned into her mouth.

“Ms. Y/n?”

She jumped when she heard Linda’s voice from behind her. She’d nearly forgotten that the housekeeper came on Mondays, “Yes! Hi Linda.”

“I noticed your bed covers are gone. Would you like the satin or cotton?”

“Oh… The cotton is perfect. But with the silk pillowcases, please. Thank you.”

Yes. It was a very good thing that Harry had gone when he did. She couldn’t imagine having to deal with Linda catching them in the act. In the kitchen. On the very stool, she was sat upon.

When Leo came back he left his suitcase near the door and asked Linda to take care of it for him. Y/n greeted him with a hug, “How was it?”

“It was… fine. How was everything here yesterday? We’ll have that all cleaned up today?” He gestured with his chin toward the front door to indicate the yard that still had chairs and tables and lights and a dancefloor in place from the party.

“Yes. In about an hour, they’ll be arriving to pack up everything. And everything was fine here too yesterday.” She smiled.

Leo walked off, presumably to go to his bedroom and shower.

That was easy. Too easy, Y/n decided. She bit her lip and remembered how Harry promised her that no one would need to know. How easy it would be. He was right. Easy peasy.

It all felt like a dream to her as she stepped out into the yard and was reminded of that night. How excited she was but then how confused she felt when they kissed. And then the anger that coursed through her when Harry tried to make her jealous. That had worked. She had been jealous. She didn’t like to admit that but she was. Even with Leonardo, she didn’t care all that much about what he might have been doing last night. But with Harry… her stepson… she shook her head as she walked back inside and decided to do something, anything, to get her mind off him. Because she was already missing him. Missing his dimples and his voice. His pink lips and tattoos. The way his breath smelled like her and his curls that were wild after they showered and he let it air dry.

And she could still feel him too. An entire day of sex was exhausting in the best way. But her body knew where it had been and who it had been with. She still tingled with need despite how satisfied she felt.

Then her eyes roved the kitchen island and she spotted a ring. His ring. A simple thick white gold band. She suddenly had an idea.

. . .

It felt good to turn his fully completed essay in on time despite how rushed it had been last minute. But then that only reminded him of why it was last minute and he was left grinning as he walked back to his dorm.

He figured he was due for a shower as he took a piss after looking down over himself and catching her scent again. Remnants of her were matted into the bit of hair at the base of his prick. It was a pity to wash away her soft feminine perfume but it would have been weird if he didn’t bathe himself. Right?

Turning on his shower he heard his phone ding and he plucked it up quickly, his heart pounding heavily in his chest when he realized it was Y/n.

Left something here. Guess we’re gonna have to figure out a way to get it back to you.

Attached to the message was a photo of her pretty thumb dawning said something. His ring. But that wasn’t the intent of the photo he realized when he took the whole picture in. She was naked behind it. Blurred just enough as a background image but he could see the curve of her waist and her tits and the color of her flesh uninterrupted by any fabric. The details weren’t clear but he knew what it was.

So Harry smirked to himself and took a photo of his own bare finger, sans the ring, and used the focus to keep the details at the forefront clear but have the background with his naked frame blurred.

you’re right. feel naked without it. any suggestions on ways i can have it returned?

He sat his phone down and already his prick was thickening up. From a single fucking text with a photo of blurry flesh tones.

Licking his lips he waited for her to text back but after a minute he decided he could just wash off and rub one out in the meantime.

And perhaps it was all the sex he’d had the day prior, and even that very morning, but his quick shower where he was meant to just come in under two minutes took a little longer. He stroked and stroked and moaned (thank god he had no roommates) and his thighs shook as he was reminded of how Y/n had bent herself over and bared her ass to him just the night before.

“Let’s try it like this. Use your hips to just rail me. Fuck me like you want me to remember you for days, Harry.”

So he did. His thighs were burning as he steadied himself in a hasty rhythm and used his hands to squeeze her bottom and watched as he stuffed his cock into her repeatedly. She rubbed at her clit and cried out each time he bottomed out.

“Spank me. Really hard. Both sides.” Her words were panted as she turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. Her tits swayed at each of his heavy thrusts and he brought his palm down over her ass and she hissed with a grin, “Harder. I know you can do it better than that…. FUCK!”

He guffawed as his next strike caused her to shriek and she moaned and then melted into the mattress as he continued swatting her bare bottom, “God yes. Just like that. You are so good, Harry. Such a good boy.”

He placed his palm onto the linoleum shower as he came. His orgasm poured out of his tip in spurts as he groaned and spoke her name between breaths.

With the towel wrapped around his waist, he smiled when he noted two new texts from her after stepping out of the shower.

Tit for tat I see. I deserved that.

Leo’s leaving this weekend. Friday morning. Won’t be back til Monday night. Perhaps we can arrange something for you to come pick up your ring then?

Harry took a deep breath as he read over her words. He didn’t have classes on Fridays so he could potentially go there Thursday night. But then his dad would still be there. But of course, the sooner he could see her the better. Even if Leo was around.

How’s Thursday night? And I feel like it’s gonna take a few days for me to get over the loss of the ring so if you don’t mind me staying until Monday morning then I think that can work.

. . .

She hated deleting the texts. But it was necessary. It wasn’t as if Leo would ever go through her phone but still. He didn’t care if she had a sidepiece. He would, however, care that her sidepiece was his son. She was certain of that. Even though he hadn’t said specifically, don’t have sex with Harry, he didn’t need to. It was something that went without saying. A moral boundary. She knew better. But she wasn’t sure that she wanted to stop. No, she was sure she didn’t want to stop. Harry was… tender and fun and sexy. He was eager and vibrant. Confident without being egotistical.

There were more photos and suggestive messages over the following days. Until he finally arrived Thursday evening after his last class.

He’d called Leo and told him he was coming over for dinner that night and that he’d stay and leave the following day.

So that’s how Y/n found herself with her little apron floating across the kitchen making dinner for the three of them. She had a little music playing and felt the nerves bubbling out of her tummy. She couldn’t wait to see Harry again. Just to lay eyes on him. To hear his voice. There could be no funny business that night, but she had him for the entire weekend and it was like a dream. She felt like she was in high school again. Heart thumping in her chest, head spinning and swimming. She kept getting interrupted by her thoughts. Wooden spoon in hand, hovering over the bowl with her head in the clouds. Images of what they’d done together, what they would do together.

He seemed to really enjoy eating her out. And his enthusiasm for it was obvious on Sunday when they were curled up together on the couch watching a movie and he dragged her legs over his lap and then asked…

“Can I try again? Want to see if I can make you come.”

His fingers reached up underneath her shorts and slowly dragged along the seam of her panties with his eyes growing dark as he licked his lips, “Please?”

He’d been trying. The first time he hadn’t made her come because she stopped him to have him play with her tits while he was fingering her. The second time she nearly came. Was so close but he couldn’t quite get her to tip. She reassured him that was normal. Most guys couldn’t really make a woman come if they didn’t know her body well enough, “No one has ever made me come from only eating me out. Ever. Don’t feel bad about it, Harry.”

But he wanted to try again. Third time’s a charm and all. So she nodded and he quickly rid her of her shorts and panties and dug in. He did everything he learned she liked and went slowly and softly at first. Watching her intently and moaning into her pussy.

She’d long forgotten the movie they were watching in favor of enjoying the scene with Harry’s mouth and fingers trying to work her to her end.

“Please… I need you to come. What do you need? Tell me exactly what you want so I can be good. Want to be the best for you.”

She thought for a moment. Since she’d never come from cunnilingus she figured maybe it was because she’d never sat on anyone’s face before. Perhaps a change in position…

Harry lay flat on the couch as she straddled his face and put her palms on the cushioned arm as he pulled her down over him and got back to lapping and sucking.

That was good. That felt… really good. The more she settled into the position of having her thighs around his head as she sat over his mouth she began rolling her hips slowly and realized that also felt really good. His nose was perfectly big enough that she could use it on her clit every time she shifted her hips up, but then each time she tilted her pelvis down Harry’s lips and tongue would stimulate her clit. It was perfect. The right amount of soft licking and sucking along with that healthy friction she got from his nose.

When she felt that initial tingle, the spark of her orgasm snaking around to her center she was surprised and relieved. She was finally going to come. And she was glad it was Harry who was doing it.

But Harry was beyond glad. He loved the idea that he could be her first for something. When he felt her quivering and her gasps turned into soft moans and chants of his name as she yanked his hair and ground herself over him his eyes fluttered into the back of his head. She was coming on his face and it was all he ever wanted. He didn’t even know it was anything he’d been missing out on but to have a woman coming from oral sex, from the way he flicked his tongue and kissed her pussy made her lose it and that was the best thing that happened to him all day. Yes, he’d lost his virginity but this was a notch on the belt of experience. This earned him bragging rights.

She collapsed over him when she began to come down and he caught her by her hips before she fell off the edge of the couch, “C’mere. I wanna hold you.” He laughed as he pulled her into his arms before she toppled over the arm of the couch.

She realized how beyond fucked she really was in that moment. With his eyes on hers and his arms holding her to his chest and their hearts beating in synch. He was special to her. His genuine care had her filled with butterflies and confusion, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist him ever again.

She sighed as she shook that memory from her mind. Stay on track, Y/n.

Leo hadn’t made it back from his appointment that afternoon yet but it was LA and traffic was rotten at that time of day. She hoped Harry wasn’t too caught up on the 101.

When her phone chimed with the notice that someone had arrived at the gate she swallowed and tried to keep calm. It could be Harry. It could be Leo. She had her hands deep in soggy flour so she couldn’t check to see which but either way. Harry was going to be there.

She heard the door close and her heart rate picked up. SZA’s Snooze was playing and she grinned to herself at the irony and before she could call out to see who had come in she saw him enter the kitchen. It wasn’t unlike last week when he came in with his duffle bag and that sexy smirk. Except this time it held so many other layers.

“Leo’s not back yet. Had an appointment downtown. How was traffic?” Small talk. That’s how she’d start. Her nerves were on fire as he raised a brow and placed his bag on the floor and sauntered toward her.

She tried following him with her eyes as he walked behind her without a word. Her hands were still stuffed in the flour mixture as Harry pressed his chest to her back and put his arms onto the island on either side of her, “Like this song.”

His voice in her ear was sultry and she knew that drop in his tone. She gasped as he pressed his warm lips to her neck and then swayed her with his crotch glued to her bottom. She closed her eyes and let his proximity and his touch filter into her bones and her veins and her cells. His lips were soft as he moved up toward her cheek and she felt him smile, “Nobody do body like you…” he sang the words quietly and nosed at her cheekbone as he rocked them to the slow beat.

God, she hadn’t been with anyone that was just so naturally good at being sexy and dreamy like Harry. He was a dream. He might have been a virgin before but he was sensual and flirty and exciting in a way she’d never known. He might have not had all that much experience, but he was a natural lover. Thoughtful and romantic without even needing instructions.

“How long til he’s back?” He spoke his words against the corner of her lips as she turned her face toward him. Her lips were already parted and her eyes were closed.

“I don’t know. Traffic is bad. He said he’d be home at five but it’s already six.”

Harry’s hands found her waist as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her mouth. She swooned. She actually swooned, nearly falling and passing out in his arms like one of those Victorian women who wore their corsets too tight and any little excitement would have them fainting.

Harry laughed against her lips, “You okay?”

She nodded and looked at him as he craned his neck to see her eyes, “I need to wash my hands. I’ve got wet flour all over them.”

The grin on Harry’s face was devious as he looked from where her hands were stuffed into the flour and then back to her face. He wasn’t budging at all, “So pretty with this apron on. Didn’t think you could be any prettier but here we are.” His fingers moved down to her hips.

She was wearing a dress. A little short. She wanted to look cute. And her plan to not wear panties was suddenly dawning on her as she felt the tiniest bit of slip on her thighs. She grinned back at him, “Thank you, Harry. Always so polite.”

He nodded and stepped back an inch as he moved his hands from her hips down to her bare thighs, “I try. I do my best to please you, ma’am.” His smirk remained as his finger slowly pushed the hem of her skirt upward, “You don’t mind if I just take a peek?” He tilted his head as he looked at her, his fingers inching up slowly, “To tide me over til tomorrow? Missed you.”

Y/n bit her lip and felt her neck grow warm. He was about to see what she didn’t have on underneath but she nodded, “Okay. Go ahead.”

The fabric of her dress was pulled upward and the air of the kitchen was cool over her backside. Harry groaned as her supple bottom came into view, not a single shred of material to cover herself from him, “Fuck. No panties?”

Her chest rose and fell deeply. She could have him just quickly fuck her. Who knew when Leo would return? It would be risky-

Harry dropped to his knees, “Please… can I have a little taste. Just a…” he smushed his fingers into her bottom and kneaded her flesh apart to get a better glimpse, “Please?”

“God, Harry. Okay.” It was insane. Absolutely nonsensical for this to be happening but it was. His tongue roved her folds as he moaned and lapped at her from behind. Slick and warm with his fingers biting into her skin. But when he slid his fingers over her clit she gasped and leaned forward to allow him more and Harry dug his face into her deeper.

It was quite the scene. From the front of the kitchen, one would only see Y/n leaned over the counter with her apron and hands in the bowl of dough, her eyes closed and mouth dropped open as she panted his name. But just behind the island, hidden from view, there was her stepson, eating her out with her ass bared to him and his tongue plowing through her labia.

Suddenly they heard the door close and Harry quickly stood up and wiped his arm over his face as he backed away from his stepmom and turned to the sink to wash his hands.

His cock was so hard but luckily his dark jeans would hide what he had going on.

Y/n was still panting with dark eyes as Leo stepped into the kitchen, “My son!” He crossed the room and wrapped Harry in a quick hug before backing away.

That was a close call. Y/n tried regulating her breathing as she pulled her fingers out of the dough and smiled at Leo, “He just got here. You both have great timing! Dinner will be ready in about an hour.” She lifted her sticky fingers and moved to the sink to rinse her hands off as Harry said something to his dad about traffic and then excused himself to go up to his room for a bit. Her teeth dug into her lip as she looked down into the sink at her flour-covered fingers and imagined Harry taking care of himself in his bedroom as he thought of her. She didn’t miss the way his prick started to stiffen when he was pressed into her back as he kissed her neck.

It was crazy to Y/n how quickly she could shift from being blushy and hot to being composed and cool in front of Leo. Dinner was plated and the three of them sat outside in the garden overlooking the pool.

Leo picked out a nice cabernet for them to share and Harry sipped a glass of tequila. She tried not to pay too much attention to Harry’s hands as he ate and grasped his glass. Or his lips as she spoke. She glanced at his jaw a few times as he chewed his bites and she spoke about the tennis club and then they got onto the topic of the war in Ukraine.

As cold as Leonardo was, he was at least of sound mind when it came to politics. He was liberal and he was quite a forward thinker. He was fair in his opinions. At least.

Her second glass of wine had her ears warming up and she felt more relaxed. No one would have guessed she was a ball of nerves but she was. Harry being at the table with his soft green eyes finding hers every few minutes as they spoke felt especially weighty when Leo was there too.

But on the surface, everything appeared as normal.

“And how are your grades?” Leo asked his son.

Harry perked up and nodded, “Good. All A’s. Nearly missed turning in a complete essay on Monday after that party but got it in just in time and got a 90 on it. Felt pretty good.” He pulled his lips inward to hide the grin that threatened to make its appearance as he caught Y/n’s gaze on him. Their expressions were similar. A knowing look. A secret only they shared.

“Figured. You’re always an excellent student. Never have to worry about you mucking it up do I?” Leo boasted.

“He is a great student. I even offered for him to stay longer on Sunday to relax but he was so intent on getting his schoolwork done instead. It’s quite impressive.” She didn’t need to chime in. Her words were a lie. Though she did know he was a great student, and that was impressive.

Harry smiled down at his plate before letting his eyes wander up to Y/n’s, “Thank you, ma’am. I take pride in learning and being good at what I do.”

She clenched her jaw and stifled a small titter she nearly let out. His innuendo wasn’t missed by her, “It shows too,” she spoke wryly and then bit into her roasted cauliflower.

His nostrils flared as he mimicked her by biting into a forkful and chewing hastily.

When they’d finished up dinner, they all made their way to the heated pool after changing into their swimwear.

It was… a task. A task to not look at Harry’s lean muscles and tattoos. The soft part of his hips that gave way to the elastic of his yellow trunks. His strong thighs. She swallowed to moisten her throat at the sight of him with dimples as he laughed at something Leo said.

But she felt his eyes on her as she stepped into the pool. She pretended not to be bothered by knowing his eyes were scanning her in small increments. He couldn’t gawk at her in front of his father, but he could take subtle glances to feast on.

To Harry, though, he wasn’t getting enough. He wanted to paste his eyes onto her body and allow himself to splurge on her tummy and her back. He was already keyed up a bit at the idea of having his brains fucked out all weekend. He knew he could be patient. He had to be. Leo joked around with Harry about Leslie a bit. Even he thought his own son was getting girls left and right. He had no idea that Harry had been a virgin until only days prior.

“I’m glad you came over today so I could spend a little time with you. Haven’t done anything like this in a while. And your birthday party doesn’t count either.”

The sun started to go down, oranges and pinks covering the horizon toward the Pacific Ocean, as they listened to music over the blue tooth speakers, and the subject of conversation had started on sports. Y/n zoned out a little. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy sports, but in comparison to Leo, she was nearly clueless. She watched the dusk take over what had been a bright blue sky only thirty minutes earlier and smiled to herself as Harry’s voice floated over the water toward her as he spoke to his father.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom. Be right back!” Harry spoke as he pulled his wet body out of the pool, climbing up onto the patio, his body dripping with water as he padded his way toward the back of the house.

Leo placed his back toward the edge of the pool and rested against it, “What do you have planned this weekend? Going out tomorrow with the girls?”

“Oh… I might. I’m not sure. Actually, Cyndee wasn’t feeling well this morning so we’re just playing it by ear. Tennis club Saturday. Maybe just hang out here in the pool. Relax. Not much. Bet you’re gonna have a good time in the Hamptons.”

Just as Leo was about to respond his phone rang and he cursed under his breath as he pulled himself out of the pool, in much the same way Harry had only moments before. He wiped his hands on his towel before lifting his cell phone up to his ear and holding a finger out to Y/n as he walked toward the back of the house to take the call.

Looking out to the horizon, the pinks had turned purple and the sky grew darker. The music on the speakers was some sort of slow hip-hop song she wasn’t familiar with but she liked the beat. Easy and a little sexy. From her peripheral, she saw Harry walking toward the pool.

She turned her head and grinned, “That was fast.”

Harry wore a small frown and slid into the water right next to his stepmom, “Yeah. Just went to the pool house. And um…” he turned to look back toward the house and lowered his voice, “Is he cheating on you, Y/n?”

The breath in her lungs stilled at his question. She wasn’t sure how much Harry knew about her and his father’s situation but she knew she hadn’t told him everything. And she knew that it was unlikely he would be privy. It wouldn’t have been his business in any normal circumstance. But theirs was not a normal circumstance.

Shaking her head she let out the breath she was holding and looked at his kind eyes brushing her fingers in between his under the warm water, “Not really. We have an agreement… But we don’t discuss the details with each other. We are free to see other people. But don’t tell your dad I said anything.”

Harry’s frown remained as he shook his head, “Of course, I would never say anything. Are you… seeing other people too?”

“No. God no. Since I married Leo I haven’t been interested in seeing anyone else. Until you.”

The frown lines slowly disappeared as his soft lips curved up, “Yeah? Really? You’ve been free to be with anyone? But it’s just me?”

Harry’s hand grasped her thigh as he stood only inches from her in the pool. Definitely closer than appeared innocent.

Nodding her head and letting him pull at her leg she spoke in a murmur after looking over Harry’s shoulder to make sure they were in the clear, “Just you, baby. You’re all I want.”

His demeanor changed back into his bright and confident self at her words, “So if I ask you really nicely you’ll give me anything I want, right? S’what you said Sunday.”

Y/n breathed out a laugh and cocked her head, “Depends. Tell me what you want.”

Harry’s fingers moved up her thigh slowly as he spoke in a whisper, “Let me come to your room tonight.”

She raised her brows and scoffed, “Well that certainly wasn’t asking nicely was it? Sounded more like you telling me.”

He licked his lips and dropped his gaze to her mouth, “Please, ma’am,” the smirk on his face deepened his adorable dimples, “Can I come to your room tonight? After he’s asleep?” He motioned with his chin toward the back of the house indicating his father.

“And what do you think is going to happen if you are allowed to come to my room tonight?” She tried hiding her own grin but it was futile. Harry’s smile and the way his hand was pasted to the inside of her thigh, only a hand’s distance from the crotch of her bikini bottom was making her feel dizzy.

“Whatever you want ma’am. I’ll do anything. Even if it’s just to hold you.” His tongue swiped over his bottom lip and his eyes were hooded. He was turned on.

Letting her hand drift toward his swim shorts she grazed her fingers over his crotch and sucked in a small breath as she kept her eyes on his, “Poor thing. When was the last time you came Harry?”

A laugh puffed out of his nose as he continued speaking in a low whisper, “This morning.”

Looking at the house and back to Harry she cupped him in her hand and moaned lightly, “Oooh… I see. A horny thing aren’t you? What did you think about?” She slid her hand into the waistband of his trunks and wrapped her palm around his smooth shaft and watched as his lips parted and he closed his eyes to take it in.

“You. You’re all I think about, Y/n.”

“Me?” She spoke into his ear as he opened his eyes to look at her, “I’m so flattered. What do you imagine? Am I sucking you off in your fantasy? Are you fucking me? Tell me about it?”

She was surprised by the way he was looking at her. As if he were the dominant. The aggressor, yet she knew he’d bend immediately if she told him to. She loved his moxie. Loved how he oozed confidence despite the way he’d beg her and whimper for her.

His fingers found the edge of the fabric of her bikini at the lower part of her hip and poked a finger in, moving it down toward her inner thigh, “This morning I imagined I was eating you out. Came all over myself in my bed wishing you were sitting on my face smothering me with your pussy.”

She’d met her match. Harry was not shy to say dirty things. He was submissive to her but he was still very much able to keep her on her toes. She swallowed and nearly pulled him down so she could kiss him but she saw Leo return and quickly released Harry’s dick and leaned back into the edge of the pool to act as if they’d only been talking.

Both Y/n and Harry were a mess until it was bedtime. Harry was thankful his boner went down before he got out of the pool and Y/n was just glad that the wet between her legs was disguised by pool water.

“I’ve got to get up at like 5 am so I’m gonna go to bed. Harry stay up as late as you like bud,” he leaned in and kissed Y/n’s forehead as they all stood in the kitchen, “Probably won’t see you in the morning. I’ll call you later after I land.”

When Leo had gone upstairs and Y/n put away the clean dishes from the dishwasher Harry was seated at the island quietly.

“You gonna go to bed? Or are you not tired?” Y/n asked as she pulled out a stool to sit on.

Harry glanced down at the empty stool between them and back up to his stepmom, “Not particularly tired no. Was hoping you had an answer for me. About the question I politely asked you earlier.”

Sighing she put her elbows onto the marble and kept her gaze on Harry’s, “You know this can only work if we don’t get caught.”

He nodded, “We won’t. I’ll be quiet as a mouse.”

She smiled and sat up, “Do you smoke weed?”

Harry blinked his eyes at the sudden change of topic and nodded, “Yeah. Not like every day but often.”

She bit her lip and looked at the corner of the room. Contemplating whether she should or not. She should. She definitely should. And why not? It was just a little weed. And she needed to calm down. As composed as she appeared, she was vibrating with nerves and her body ached for him but she knew they couldn’t do anything tonight.

“Come with me.” She jumped down from the stool and Harry followed her upstairs to her room. She closed the door and locked it before crouching down in front of her dresser and opening up the bottom drawer, retrieving a box and lifting it upward, “My stash. If you ever need some and I’m not here, you’re welcome to it.” She spoke as she stood up and opened the lid.

“Wow. My stepmom’s a stoner. Had no idea.” Harry laughed quietly as he stood behind Y/n and looked over her shoulder down into the box.

“I’m not! I just like a puffy treat once in a while. Something to help me sleep and calm my anxiety.” She pulled out a joint and a lighter.

“You have anxiety?”

She shrugged as she walked across the room toward the large window that looked out to the backyard, “Kind of. Not diagnosed or anything but low level. I get anxious sometimes. This helps to make my mind chill a little.”

She sparked up the tip and inhaled as she unhooked the window lock and pushed the glass outward to open up before blowing the plume out into the night air.

Harry nodded at her words. He supposed it was the same for him. Low level. Normal levels he imagined. He took the joint she passed him and drew the cannabis into his lungs.

After a few lungfuls each Harry could feel the softening of his nerves and yet, it did nothing to calm how aroused he was around Y/n, “So does this mean you’re gonna let me stay in your bed with you tonight?”

She stamped out the joint and placed it on the windowsill before turning to look up at Harry. She was ready to jump his bones but she knew they had to be quiet. They could get to the juicy stuff tomorrow. Perhaps that evening would just be about being close and talking in whispers.

“Yeah. But no sex. It’s too loud. We have plenty of time for that all weekend,” her grin was adorable and Harry couldn’t help himself when he grasped her chin and kissed her lips.

It took her by surprise but she melted into him quickly as she wrapped her arms around him. Harry walked her backward to her bed and pulled her in with him before parting from the kiss, “Like I said. I’ll take anything you give me. No sex is fine with me.”

The problem with lying in a bed naked (Harry didn’t want to go and get his sweatpants from his bedroom and since he was naked he insisted that Y/n be naked with him and she easily obliged) with your brand new lover after having smoked a little weed is that it’s hard not to be horny. It’s hard to keep a ‘no sex’ rule when you still have so much to explore and the person you’d love to explore is lying right next to you without a shred of clothing covering anything.

Harry tried not to let his hands wander. He kept his palm over her hip, only letting his thumb travel over her skin softly as he spoke. And she kept her hand a safe distance from his cock, which was thick and hard, ready to be used.

“Well, when I graduated last year it was the same. All the professors really just wanted their students to get a good grade so they were always helpful and then would offer extra credit. You’ll be fine, Harry. You’re so smart.”

“Feels that way. Which is nice. I like having a little bit of a break.”

Y/n kept her eyes on his as he spoke and then they were quiet for a moment when Y/n was reminded of something, “What did you hear Leo saying that made you ask me if he was cheating?”

Harry didn’t stop his slow touches over her sides as he spoke, “I heard him say that he had to keep his voice down because his wife and his son were nearby. Then he said he couldn’t wait to see them either, but it sounded like he was speaking to a woman or like a lover. Not a friend.”

She nodded and squinted her eyes. She hadn’t known Leo to be sneaking away for calls to lovers. She always imagined that anyone he might have on the side would be a once or twice sort of thing. Someone who might not even have his number. But perhaps she was wrong.

But she wasn’t upset. She had Harry in her bed and his dark curls were messy with the way she ran her fingers through it earlier. She scraped her nails lightly over his pecs.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice barely came out above a whisper.

“Harry…” she looked into his eyes and then down between them and moaned softly, letting her hand travel down just a little, “If you kiss me it’s not gonna stop there. And you know it.”

The smirk on his lips edged upward on the right side of his mouth, “So you’re saying you can’t resist, is that right?”

She laughed and rolled her eyes, “No. I’m saying you can’t resist.”

Harry shook his head and rounded his eyes innocently, “Ma’am, with all due respect…” his nostrils flared as he spoke in jest, fingers digging into her hip, “I will do literally anything you tell me to. And if you say we’re not going to have sex, then I will resist. It’s you who makes all the decisions here. I’m simply following your lead. And all I’m asking for is a kiss.”

He had a point and she knew that was the truth. She wanted to fuck his brains out, that was the reality. And if his pillowy lips wrapped around hers and his tongue lapped at hers she’d be climbing over him and attaching herself to his cock.

Instead of answering she continued pushing her hand down his abs and toward his heavy cock, softly ghosting her fingers over his tip and he keened.

“Fuck…” Harry breathed out his words and he closed his eyes.

“I wish we could, Harry. But we can’t. It’s too risky.” She wanted to grasp him in her hand but she only brushed her fingers over him. Just to touch. Just a little.

His hand moved up from her hip and over her arm to her neck and then her face, “Fine with me. Love just being here with you. What would you do with me if we could right now?”

Y/n licked her lips and pushed her face into his touch as she scooted into him closer, “I’d have you creampie me and then I’d climb onto your face and make you eat your come out of my pussy until I orgasm.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open and the tiniest whine from the back of his throat sounded, “Fuck. I want that. Can we try that first thing in the morning?”

Nodding her head she felt his fingers drop to her jaw, gently rubbing his knuckles over her skin, “Definitely. Yeah.”

His face was so close to hers. She was throbbing already, clenching tight as her skin heated up under his gaze. He looked like he could devour her and it made her heart thrash in her chest.

“Yeah? Want me to fill you up? You like that, don’t you? Then I’ll let you smear it all over my face, clean you all up with my tongue and make you wish you were married to me. There’s no way I’d ever want anyone else if I had you.”

Y/n’s eyes went wide for a moment but she actually couldn’t be mad at that. If she wasn’t so far gone and horny out of her mind she might have scolded him for that but instead, she groaned softly and pulled him in for the kiss she’d been desperate for.

She hadn’t meant to. Not really. She was going to just lie with him and fall asleep and keep things quiet and tame. But she couldn’t stop it. She needed him. Needed him to soothe her ache and her heart.

Harry trembled as he pulled her in closer and opened his mouth for her, kissing her back wetly as his mouth was already watering. He was going to get what he wanted. He smiled into the kiss knowing where it was leading as she pulled him on top of her and she spread her legs, “Fuck me and come inside of me. If you make one peep we’re stopping.”

Harry breathed in and out slowly to ground himself as he lined his tip up to her sodden entrance. She was soaked. And puffy. Her clit was standing at attention because of how aroused she was. How aroused he made her.

He plunged into her and dropped his mouth wide as she closed her eyes and panted at the feel of him, “Yes…” she whispered.

Harry’s face was set in anguish as he rocked into her. His cock had been so hard and already leaked from the tip before she even kissed him. It was only going to be a matter of minutes before he was going to fill her up like she wanted.

Wet, sloppy sex sounded in the room and her mattress gave way to their weight at each of Harry’s thrusts. He was good to keep quiet but Y/n was struggling the most as she peeped the tiniest moans and then breathed his name softly as she felt him throbbing inside of her.

“Come inside of me, baby. Give me your come. Want it…”

Harry was quivering and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as his penis was sheathed in her tight pussy. It was warm and wet and his cock felt so good moving inside of her that he couldn’t hang on one moment longer. He clenched his teeth and his balls tightened as he fucked into her, his orgasm filling her to the brim. His ears rang as he came and his chest heated up from ecstasy.

Y/n watched in awe. Harry was good. He stayed quiet but even better was the way he felt when he was orgasming inside of her. His heavy cock pumped and throbbed and she felt every one of his ridges and shot of come that poured out from his tip. Perhaps it was the weed that made her so sensitive but it was an incredible feeling.

And Harry was blown away by having an orgasm inside of Y/n while he was a little high. He’d never trembled so hard in his life but he couldn’t stop shaking as he came and eventually calmed from his orgasm. He was shivering still as he held himself up over her with a grin. Proud that he’d managed to stay completely quiet.

“Good boy. Just like I told you. Now, you ready to use that mouth to clean me up? I need to come so bad, Harry.”

He nodded as his shaky limbs steadied himself, pulling out and then quickly grasping her ankles and lifting her legs upward to see it. To watch the bit of his creamy come drip from her pussy.

“S’pretty isn’t it?” She asked as she watched his face. He’d gotten lots of eyefuls of his creampies on Sunday. He nodded and then released her legs before plopping down on his back and scooting himself into position so she could climb on.

Before lowering her pussy to his mouth she watched as his come dripped over his lips and kept her hands at the headboard, “Eat it.”

Harry licked his lips and swallowed before opening his mouth again and looking up at her eyes. He just wanted her to sit on him so he could make her come.

The moment her cunt covered his lips she gasped when he pulled at her clit and his tongue lapped up her messy pussy. Swallowing his come mixed with her sticky arousal he moaned softly into her.

She grasped onto his hair as she gyrated over him, rubbing herself on his lips and over his nose, her pussy was on fire from need and desperation and the prickle of his facial hair.

“Fucking gonna make me come, baby. Oh my god, Harry…” she panted her words as quietly as she could while she used his face for her pleasure. Harry tried to keep his eyes open but she was riding his face roughly and it was almost impossible. He wanted to watch her tits bounce and the way her lips parted, wanted to watch her come as he ate her out. He forced his eyes open every few moments to see her riding his face as he held on to her thighs.

She began to spiral into a boiling-hot orgasm as her thighs nearly gave out from the exertion of her muscles. Looking down at where she was rubbing herself on him she was struck by his vibrant green eyes on hers as she began to come. The tight cord inside of her snapped and she gushed over his face. His nose was amazing. She kept bumping her clit into it and riding over the tip of it but being sure to give him air in between.

His face was shiny and pink and his eyes were droopy by the time she caught her breath. She shakily moved herself to lie over his body, pressing her chest into his and nuzzling into his neck. She was spent. He was spent.

Not only was it late, but they were both a little high from the joint they shared. Tired was an understatement.

She could have fallen asleep right over his chest like she was. Harry wrapped his arms around her and spoke quietly, “We should clean up. I’m all sticky and wet.”

Y/n groaned and smiled as she looked up at him. The handsome young man with her wet arousal smeared all over his face, “You’re right. Then we’ll go to sleep.”

The moment they were cleaned and snuggled under the covers with limbs intertwined Harry drifted off into a dreamless sleep. Y/n was sure that having Harry in her bed was the best part of their affair. His warm limbs loosened and his heartbeat slowed as he began to lightly snore with his mouth open. He was adorable. Not just adorable. He was striking and self-assured. He was smart and gentle. He was affectionate.

She hadn’t realized how much she missed affection. She’d been without it for so long that she thought the affection her friends gave her was quite enough. But now that she had a taste of Harry’s sunny smile and his tender heart she wasn’t sure she could go back to the once-per-week schedule of sex and then separate rooms after. The occasional hug and kiss. That just wouldn’t do anymore. Harry was forbidden but she was already hooked.

A/N: The next part will be their “quiet” weekend together 👀

3. Overheard

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wh0re4women · 9 months

Text

Thinning Patience. (Larissa Weems X Reader.) NSFW

Summary: Larissa's patience has worn thin, thanks to a very bratty Reader.

Warnings: stern!Larissa, mommy kink, punishment, Larissa using reader to get off, slight degradation, face slapping, denial, just.. mean mommy Larissa.

One of life's greatest pleasures was riling Larissa up, you truly believed so. It was like free entertainment, really. Except, it wasn't entirely free — you paid with punishment. But was it really a punishment if you thoroughly enjoyed yourself every time?

How awful could a spanking be if Larissa made sure it never bruised you? Overstimulation was almost torturous, if it wasn't for the fact that you loved cumming so much. You were sure there wasn't a punishment that Larissa could dish out that you wouldn't be able to take. So when the tall blonde stormed into your dorm room one evening, roughly and messily tearing off her blazer, demanding that you "Get on the bed and take off your clothes" as she threw the jacket away from her, you couldn't help but giggle in excitement.

"Someone's a little frustrated," you teasingly pointed out, severely underestimating just how frustrated Larissa could get. After all, she was always so composed and level-headed.

Your first warning came suddenly. Before you could get into position on the bed in your own leisurely pace, moving from your stomach to your back, Larissa wrapped her fingers around your wrist, tugging you up onto your feet. Within a second, you were face to face with the Principal, close enough to see the darkness in her eyes — something you hadn't noticed before.

Larissa's unforgiving hand pinched your chin, tugging you even closer, "Safe words are red, yellow, green. Red is stop, green is good. You can grasp the concept, right darling?"

Her tone was harsh, low; you felt wetness threaten to slip out of you, throat suddenly dry. As you opened your mouth to answer her, late and hesitantly, Larissa silenced you with a slap to your cheek. A wave of shock coursed through you — mouth hanging open in surprise as your hand instinctively caressed the sore spot.

Larissa's stern demeanour didn't falter as she instantly placed her slender fingers back onto you — this time wrapped prettily and firmly around your throat, reaffirming her seriousness. "Answer me when I'm speaking to you. Do you understand?"

You nodded. Fuck, another smack — sharper, faster, blurring your vision for a second and then again, hand on your throat, squeezing, taunting you.

"Yes, Mommy."

"Red, yellow, green?"

"...Green," you managed to squeak out, avoiding her gaze.

"Ah," Larissa sounded pleased. A sick smirk brushed across her face as her grip finally loosened, "So you do understand simple commands after all."

"Yes, Mommy," you obediently confirmed, hoping to ease some of the agitation the woman was feeling, yet it was silly of you to think you could do that — Larissa had set a trap.

"Oh, you do?" the blonde’s eyebrows raised in faux-surprise before her face abruptly contorted in seething fury, "So when I tell you time and time again that it is absolutely not acceptable for you to prance around in those slutty, short, terribly distracting skirts, you understand all along — you just choose not to listen? Oh dear... That sounds like quite the punishable offence."

You whimpered, feeling her hold stiffen on your throat one last good time before she eased up finally, shoving you without warning back onto the bed; observing with growing satisfaction as you became small, helpless.

"Not so much the confident little brat you were earlier... Or yesterday, or the day before that, or the day before that one too, hm darling?" You laid still as the blonde crawled onto the bed, straddling your hips. Your teeth bit into your bottom lip as you examined Larissa with droopy eyes. She steadily lowered herself down, purposefully rutting her hips into yours a single time — just enough for you to wonder whether it could've been an accident or whether Larissa was trying to play games with you.

A drawn out moan escaped your mouth; Larissa's palm immediately shushed you, firmly pressing over your lips. "I don't want to hear any of that, darling. The only thing that I should be hearing coming from that little mouth is your pathetic begging. God knows you're going to need it — Mommy is feeling quite cruel."

You held your breath in worry of a whimper escaping, cheeks forming a rosy tint in exertion. The scene was so filthy, you couldn’t help but let your thoughts wander, feeling as your pussy became slick and swollen. You were in a tight tank top and mini skirt, pinned under Larissa who’s own skirt had ridden up to her hips, lacy red thong on display. Black heels dug into the sides of your thighs but the faint ache only added to your pleasure. Her shirt was frenziedly unbuttoned, probably on the way to your room; the thought of Larissa being so pent up that she couldn’t wait to get inside your dorm to start undressing made you impossibly soaked.

You were torn from daydreaming as the Principal leisurely rocked her hips into yours, her throbbing clit brushing against the fabric of her underwear and your own pussy, sending shivers down her spine. Larissa’s warm hands began working on the rest of the buttons on her white shirt, hips setting an even pace. The sight alone could’ve made you cum, yet with Larissa’s wet cunt sliding against yours, brushing against your clit just right, your mouth began parting in an ‘o’ shape.

“You naughty minx,” Larissa tutted, halting in place. Within the time it took your eyes to flutter shut in delight, the Principals palm met your left cheek in a searing kiss.

“Ouch! I’m- I’m sorry—“

“I don’t think you quite understand what this is about, darling. So let me put it plainly for you,” Larissa wrapped a hand around your throat before lowering her head till she was so close, her lips practically brushed against yours when she spoke. “Mommy is going to use you to get off. You are not to make a single noise or show any sign of enjoyment, let alone touch me. After all, this is a punishment. The only thing I should be hearing, if anything at all, is pitiful begging — you know it only makes mommy cum faster to see you struggling… Did you get that, darling? Or should I slap some sense back into you?”

Larissa’s words were dizzying, paired with the hand on your throat that squeezed a little tighter occasionally, you were sure you couldn’t think properly.

“I-I understand, mommy.”

The Principal hummed in response, easing up entirely as she lifted from straddling your hips. You wanted to whine out in protest yet your cheek still felt like it was on fire, reminding you to remain obedient. Larissa adjusted until she was straddling your thigh instead, pleased sighs falling from her lips the moment her dripping pussy met your skin.

“You see, darling,” The blonde began, hips swaying lazily back and forth as you observed the tension leave her body — shoulders slumping, eyes fluttering open and closed, “This isn’t about your pleasure… It’s about mine.”

As much as you wanted to cry out to Larissa, telling her how unfair and cruel you thought she was, you knew it would just be futile. All the blonde would have to do is slide her hand into your underwear and your silly points would be dismissed immediately. You racked your brain, even as it felt mushy, before remembering what Larissa had said: you were allowed to beg. You battled internally over keeping your dignity or possibly being allowed to cum — it didn’t take long before you made a decision.

“Please, mommy.”

Larissa’s hips jolted at the sound of your whiny tone, breaking rhythm momentarily. With how distracted your mind had been, you only now realised Larissa had taken off her shirt and was mindlessly kneading her own breasts through her lace, ruby bra.

“M-Mommy,” you whimpered at the filthy sight, your inner demons getting the better of you as you stupidly reached out your hand, desperate to be the one making Larissa feel so good.

“Don’t you dare,” The tall blonde snapped, sharply swatting your hand away as she stopped in her tracks.

“I can’t take it anymore — I’m so, so sorry for being a tease, I—“

“Shut your pretty little mouth,” Larissa cut you off in frustration, “Why are you apologising? Can you not follow simple instructions? Are you so selfish that you can’t let mommy make herself feel good? You should be thanking me, darling brat. Mommy was kind enough to get herself off on your thigh — I could easily stuff your mouth with my panties and tie you in place while I—“

“No!”

Larissa brought her hand down onto your right cheek this time, the action causing tears to well in your eyes, “So disobedient… I ought to really make you cry, darling.”

“Please, no! I’ll be good, I promise. I just want you to feel good! Please, please use me.”

“Oh? That’s more like it,” Larissa smirked, eyebrow raised. She brought her hands back to her chest teasingly slow, kneading her breasts and flicking her manicured nails over her lace-clad nipples. Her moans, a few octaves higher than before, filled the room as the older woman tested your ability to behave for the last time. You laid still as stone, hands balled into fists beside you; your breath hitched in the back of your throat. “If only you had been this obedient before, maybe I would feel generous enough to let you cum too, darling.”

“Please, mommy,” you begged pathetically, your words drawn out and whiny. Larissa’s pace faltered as she groaned in pleasure, eyelids falling shut. You bit your lip before trying again, “Please, please let me touch you mommy.”

“N-No.”

Although Larissa was firm, you didn’t miss the way she shuffled forward, her strong knee pressing into your pussy. The blonde continued rolling her hips into your thigh as if nothing had happened, trailing wetness along your skin.

You had been waiting for Larissa to touch you all day, hence why you had worn a shorter skirt this morning, so the little pressure you had on your pulsating clit already felt overwhelmingly pleasurable.

“P-Please, mommy. Can I- Can I?” You desperately whined, forcing your moans down in fear of losing the touch you were given.

Larissa’s hips stammered again and a low chuckle left her mouth, fingers tugging her bra down roughly and wrapping around her nipples, twisting, pulling. “God, you’re pathetic, darling. You’re going to make mommy cum.”

“Please! Please, c-can I?”

“No, don’t— oh, fuck,” Larissa’s words melted off her tongue as she grew animalistic and desperate, rutting against your thigh as she chased her orgasm. Her body gave out just as she reached her peak with a cry of relief, gravitating into your chest. You almost sobbed when she moved her knee away from your soaked underwear, a single whimper escaping in devastation.

Larissa rolled onto her side, resting her head onto her arm, chest pink-tinted and heaving, “Poor thing. Were you close, darling?”

She looked down at you in pity and you couldn’t help the pout that formed on your lips. It was only right for Larissa to kiss you gently in that moment, pulling away too quickly for your liking.

“Mommy is going to finish up with work. I expect you know not to touch. You don’t want to make me angry again, darling, do you?”

You shook your head ‘no’, defeatedly watching as the blonde got dressed. You couldn’t believe it, but maybe there was a punishment that Larissa could dish out which you wouldn’t enjoy as much, after all. You didn’t think she had it in her to deny you, let alone return to work not knowing if you were truly going to obey. Larissa had surprised you and herself — the entire rest of her day, a smirk played on her lips. Deep down, the blonde even hoped you would misbehave again, giving her the perfect excuse to turn you into a little toy that she could use for her pleasure alone.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x you #wednesday fic #principal weems x reader #larissa x reader #mine #fic

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bloatedandalone04 · 16 days

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Bets & Bargains - Part 4

Series Masterlist

➪in which you and bradley hang out for a third time and are both left questioning whether or not a friendship could form between the two of you, or something else entirely.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.7k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Bradley was still thinking about the quick kiss you pressed to his cheek last night, even a whopping sixteen hours later.

Your lips felt soft and unfamiliar, but he found himself wanting to feel them again. And again.

You had only given him a small, friendly peck, but it was enough to have him driving back to the frat house with a semi that only got worse the longer he let himself think about you.

It was quite ridiculous, the effect you have on him. He felt like a teenager again, getting hard from just a kiss on the fucking cheek.

Still, you were his friend - at least he and you were on the way to being friends - and he didn’t want to let himself think about you like that.

He ended up taking a cold shower then going to bed, but to his surprise, he was still thinking about you when he woke up seven hours later. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about you? He was supposed to be bettering himself so he could get Bri back, but he was barely thinking about her lately.

Bradley grabbed his phone and sat up as he clicked onto his messages, and he saw that Bri hadn’t gotten back to him after he finally texted her a response yesterday.

Typical.

He wished he hadn’t texted her back, because now he had taken the bait she left out and looks like the one who can’t move on, when she so clearly had.

Instead of getting annoyed at her, though, he let his thoughts shift back to you, and he was clicking on your contact before he even realized it.

Would it be too weird to tell you that I thought about you all night?

Morning, by the way.

He figured he had nothing to lose, and if you were weirded out by what he said, then it was a good thing you and he had only hung out twice, so he wouldn’t be giving up too much.

But he should know by now that you two fit each other concerningly well, and how you weren’t one to be scared away by his forwardness.

Y/n: No way, I thought about you, too.

Y/n: Morning, btw.

Bradley felt a dumb grin form on his lips as he checked the time, seeing that it was nearing ten in the morning. He got up and lazily threw his sheets over his bed in a half-assed effort of making it, using his free hand to text you back.

So we’re both thinking about each other. Any suggestions on where to go from here?

He dressed himself in dark jeans and a flannel before throwing his backpack over his shoulder and making his way across campus to his class, and when he found an empty seat and sat down, the text he received from you left him smiling for the most part of the two hour class.

Y/n: Round three?

Bradley suggested a movie night at his place since his roommates won’t be home, and you were a bit nervous to go back there since you would be completely alone with him this time and not wedged between him and a wall like you were at the party.

You were also excited, because hanging out with him had been the most fun you’ve had since attending university, and you were in your second year now.

He didn’t need to know that, though.

You tuned out for most of your classes, and when you changed into a pair of sweats and a cropped tee, your phone went off. Thinking it was Bradley, you pick it up with a smile that immediately drops when you read the caller ID.

Luke.

Of course it was him.

Even though you were actively ignoring him, he still wasn’t getting the hint that the relationship was over. You knew you needed to send him a final text and set things straight, because you were ready to move on, and he was making it harder than it should be.

Please stop texting me. We’re done, Luke. I will always be grateful for you and our time together, but it’s time we both move on. I wish you the best.

That sounded nice, right? You hoped so, anyway. You didn’t want to hurt Luke; you simply wanted him to get the message and stop contacting you until you were both over each other. Maybe you could be friends later down the road, but that was a hard maybe. You were never friends with Luke, you went from strangers pretty much right to dating.

You wanted to take your time with your next relationship, whether that was with Bradley or not. Though, you couldn’t be blamed for hoping that he is your next.

With no further communication with Luke, you pocket your phone and start the walk across the reasonably big campus and towards Bradley’s frat house, and you smirk at the reminder of why you set his contact name as Fratley.

You reach the front steps and knock on the door, second guessing your choice of outfit and wondering if it was too casual, but what else were you supposed to wear for a movie night? Comfy casual? Or uncomfortable non-casual?

When Bradley opened the door in a similar outfit, you felt better about yours, and the not so subtle way he looked you up and down definitely had your worries disappearing and your face heating up. “Hi,”

“Hi,” he said back and opened the door a bit further. “Took you long enough, I’ve been cleaning for the last hour and a half.”

You cover your mouth with a quiet laugh and step into the house. “You mean this place doesn’t look like the aftermath of a party all the time?”

Bradley playfully scoffed. “Do you think I enjoy living in that filth? I hibernate in my room half the time to avoid seeing what new mess the guys made,”

You laugh again and follow him into the living room. It looked a lot bigger than the last time you saw it, without all the people, and it was actually quite nice. “Well, I’m not sure how long you spent cleaning in here, but…” You turn to smirk at him, finding him already looking at you. “Good job.”

He holds his arms out and leans down in a bow. “Thank you,” he returned your smirk. “Did it all for you. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was thinking about you.”

You blush and look away before he could see the effect his words have on you. “It’s nice to see this place not crowded,” you change the subject and move to sit on the couch. “I can’t believe we met at a party here.”

Bradley stays where he is, the smirk still painted on his lips as he crosses his arms. “Yeah, well, if I had known this was going to happen, I would have agreed to that party a lot sooner,”

You playfully roll your eyes. “You’re full of it,”

He laughs and gestures to the doorway that leads to the kitchen. “You pick the movie and I’ll grab the snacks. Are you feeling like soda or something stronger?”

You debate it for a few seconds and come to the conclusion that you don’t want to be drunk this time around, but one drink wouldn’t hurt. “How about one beer and one soda?” You suggest and he nods with a thumbs up before disappearing into the kitchen.

Your face was still a bit hot as you sat by yourself, and you knew you needed to get a grip. Bradley was just another guy; a cute, funny and confident guy.

Yeah, you were fucked.

Bradley still hadn’t come back when your phone went off, and when you saw that it was Sam calling you, you declined it and opened your text thread with her to let her know that you were busy at the moment. Then she beat you to it.

Sammy: YOU BROKE UP WITH LUKE????

Your heart dropped a bit, though you’re not sure why. You didn’t just break up with Luke, the break up happened months ago, and Sam knows this.

Sammy: Y/n what the fuck

Sammy: You guys were supposed to work it out.

You scoff and type out a response, and you were a bit annoyed that Luke went running to his sister and your fucking roommate instead of moving on and letting things go like an adult would.

We broke up months ago, Sam. That’s not new news. I’m busy right now, so I can’t talk about this. And I don’t want to. I’ll see you at home later.

You lock your phone just as Bradley returns with three cans in one hand, and another can and a bowl of chips in the other. You were a bit impressed as you reached up to take the three cans from him with a laugh. “Wow, no need to show off,” you joked and he shook his head with a smile as he set the bowl down onto the coffee table.

“I don’t like making more than one trip,” he replied and you hum in agreement as you take a chip and watch as he sits next to you. He left very little room in between you, but you didn’t care a bit. This close proximity allowed you to inhale the piney scent of his cologne and see every fleck of gold in his brown eyes.

Oh yeah. You were seriously fucked.

Bradley’s plans of getting Bri back had been completely pushed to the back of his mind, and it’s been that way since he met you.

The more he thought about it, he realized he didn’t miss her as much as he did that morning she broke up with him. He was far too preoccupied with thoughts of you, and that scared him a bit for a few reasons.

One; he met you only a few days ago and has spent more time with you than he has with the majority of his friends.

Two; he was supposed to be focusing on trying to fix things with Bri but wasn’t putting much effort at all into that task at the moment as he sits literally right next to you on the couch.

And three; Eli and Wes might start to believe he’s actually going through with the stupid bet.

Which wasn’t what was happening at all. Yeah, you were the girl he drunkenly and stupidly picked when he came up with the bet, but he was hanging out with you because he wanted to. Not because he was planning on getting money out of it.

“Did you pick a movie?” He asked as you leaned back on the couch and opened your beer, and he couldn’t deny that he found the way you liked his favorite type of beer attractive. You were really attractive, there was no questioning that.

You freeze for a couple seconds before giving him a shy smile. “I did not,”

He laughed and grabbed the remote from off the coffee table and leaned back as well. “Well, pick something,” he said and handed you the remote.

“Why me?” You pout and flip through the possible options of movies. “I don’t know what kind of movies you like.”

“I’ll watch anything,” he shrugged and opened his beer, hoping the cold liquid would help ease his heated body. He had no idea why he reacted to you like this, but he felt like an out of control teen all over again for the second time this week.

You huff and skim through a few more comedies before settling on a horror movie from the 90s, and Bradley lifted a brow at your choice. “What?” You asked as you tossed the remote onto the cushion beside you and crossed your legs.

“Nothing,” he answered, nonchalantly draping his arm across the back of the couch. “I just didn’t take you as a scary movie girl.”

You scoff and glance up at him. “The scarier the better,” you say back and he swore you moved a little closer to him.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who can watch a horror film then sleep peacefully right after,” he challenged, daring to move his leg just an inch closer to yours.

You shrugged and gave him that unbelievably sexy smirk he loved seeing. “Like a baby,”

He refrained from asking you to marry him right then and there, and instead he shifted his attention to the TV mounted on the wall and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. “You’re crazy,” he uttered as he kept his eyes on the screen.

You laugh quietly and sip on your beer as the movie begins.

Bradley had no idea when the small gap between his body and yours became non-existent, but as he held you against his side with his arm around your shoulders and your beers discarded, he didn’t care to know.

You were warm, and it might’ve been from the blanket he threw over the both of you, but he liked to think it was because you were feeling the same way he was.

Your body fits damn near perfectly with his, your height difference making it easy for him to hold you like this without his arm cramping up.

About an hour into the movie you had fallen asleep, your head pressed against his chest and your arm draped over his lap. You had shifted like that in your sleep, and he borderline loved the way your body reacted to his, even while you were sleeping. He turned the sound down a bit until he could barely hear it, but he didn’t mind the fact that he had to really strain to be able to understand what was happening.

Bradley felt himself falling asleep, too, when your phone lit up from its place on the coffee table. He didn’t mean to, but his gaze naturally shifted to the lit up screen and he accidentally ended up reading the text you received.

Luke: What a fucking waste of time, huh? We get into one fight and you just decide to check out? Fuck you, Y/n. Don’t talk to me ever again.

Bradley could only assume that Luke is your lovely ass of an ex boyfriend, and he felt his brows furrowing as a warmth settled over his face.

Who the fuck did this guy think he is? No wonder you broke up with him.

Bradley never talked to Bri like that, or really anyone for that matter, let alone someone he loved. Luke loved you? As if.

He wanted to grab your phone and call the fucker, but you shifted again and drew his attention away from your bad choice of a boyfriend. You pulled the blanket up further and nuzzled your face against the side of his neck, and he felt himself calming down a bit as your quiet and even breathing met his ears.

You were so sweet, how could anyone ever talk to you like that?

Without meaning to, Bradley fell asleep with his chin resting on the top of your head, and the next morning he had a pain in his neck so fucking bad, he nearly got up to take enough painkillers to knock him back out again so he could sleep it off.

Then he glanced down at you, still asleep on his chest, and he thought that maybe it was worth it since he got to wake up to the pretty sight.

The TV had turned off automatically during the night, leaving the living room dark as he had closed the curtains before you got here yesterday. He grabbed his phone and squinted at the brightness as he checked the time. It was almost nine in the morning, and he knew he needed to get ready for his class that was in about an hour, but he really did not want this little moment with you to end just yet.

Reluctantly, he gently began shaking your shoulder after a few more minutes had passed. “Y/n,” he quietly said, watching as you began to stir. “Wake up, babes.”

He didn’t mean to call you that, it just slipped out, but the way you slowly sat up and grinned over at him made him want to call you that all the time. “Morning, babes,” you greet in a hoarse voice, reaching up to rub at your eyes as the blanket falls from your shoulders. “What time is it?”

“Almost nine,”

You gasped, “In the morning?”

“Yeah,” he laughed and began massaging his neck, trying to work out the kink he felt.

“Shit,” you mutter and grab your phone, making Bradley remember the rude text you got from Luke. He hated the fact that he knew what you would be reading the next time you checked your phone, and he wished he could’ve done something about it but knew it wasn’t his place. He’d let you tell him more about your ex if you wanted to, and he’d keep his opinions to himself for now. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep and stay over.”

“It’s okay,” he waved you off and slumped back against the couch again. “You must’ve needed it. You slept for quite a while.”

You blush and smooth out your hair. “I should get going, I have class soon,”

Bradley nodded and watched as you stood up. “Do you want a ride back to your place? I’m going that way anyway,” he offered. “I need coffee.”

You laugh and look down at your casual outfit, which was strangely sexy to him. “You know, usually I’d turn down a three minute drive and just walk, but I don’t really want to be seen in this so early in the morning, so yeah,” you answer and pull the blanket off him, folding it and setting it aside.

He huffed out a laugh and stood up as well. “Let’s go then,” he said and began walking with you to the front door. “You look hot, by the way. You shouldn’t care what people see you in.”

You blush again and glance back into the living room, seeing the scattered beer and soda cans. “I can help clean up first,”

“No, it��s alright,” he grunted and grabbed his keys from off the table near the door. “I’ll do it later. I don’t ever make a mess, so the guys won’t get pissed at me for leaving it like that.”

Nodding, you step outside when he opens the door and walk out to the Jeep. Once you are inside, you turn to him with a small smile. “I keep saying this, but I had fun last night,” you say quietly as he reversed out of the driveway. “I know I fell asleep pretty early on, but still.”

Bradley laughed and put the car in drive. “I had fun, too,” he said. “You weren’t kidding about the whole ‘falling asleep after horror movies’ thing, huh?”

You covered your mouth as you laughed, too, and Bradley wondered why you often did that, but now wasn’t the time to ask. “Nope,”

The drive was a short one, and two minutes later he was pulling up to your dorm and regretting not offering to walk with you instead of driving as it would’ve given him a few extra minutes with you.

He put the car in park then turned to you, meeting your eye as you unbuckle your seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride,” you say in a teasing tone.

Bradley laughed quietly, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear. Then he leaned in and kissed your cheek like you did with him after dinner at Five Guys, and when he pulled away he saw that a pretty blush had taken over your face again. “No problem,”

You smile again and hop out of the car, getting to the third step and hesitating for a few seconds before you turn around and make your way to the driver’s side door. You pull it open and grab a fistful of his shirt, guiding him into a kiss he was all too willing to accept. It didn’t last long, unfortunately, but it still left the both of you wearing dumb smiles when you pulled away. “I’ll see you later?” You whisper and he nods, reaching up to gently tug on your bottom lip before your smile grows and you step away, closing the door afterwards.

You give him a small wave before disappearing into the dorm and leaving Bradley with a heat deep in his body. He had to force himself to drive to the coffee shop a few minutes away, and then back home once he got his fix.

When he entered the house, he saw Eli sitting on the couch with a smirk on his face. “Fun night?” He asked as he nodded towards the cans and empty bowl. “Was it Bri?”

Bradley scoffed as he put his coffee cup down and began gathering up the cans. “No,” he answered and put the cans into the bowl. “Y/n.”

Eli’s smirk grew at that and Bradley instantly regretted telling him about you. “Ah, Y/n,” he laughed. “You really want that money, huh?”

Bradley narrowed his eyes. “No, actually, I don’t,” he replied and grabbed his coffee again. “I don’t want your stupid money, okay? I like Y/n, really. She’s nice and so not the person I thought she was.”

Eli just nodded but was still wearing that stupid smirk as he looked back down at his phone, and it made Bradley feel a bit uneasy.

“I’m not kidding,” he warned. “Let it go.”

Eli raised his hands in surrender. “I’m chilling, man,” he muttered but Bradley knew better.

But he refused to waste his time trying to get his friend to understand him when he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. So he just left him there and brought the bowl to the kitchen before getting ready for class, still thinking about the kiss he shared with you that he wished was so much longer.

He already couldn’t stop thinking about the peck you gave him on the cheek, but now he had gotten a taste of the real thing, and he was so close to throwing out every promise he made to himself about bettering himself for Bri and giving all his time to you.

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vampireimiko · 6 months

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HAPPY HALLOWEEN 🎃

warnings, alcohol mentions

note, this was something i came up with yesterday and just had to write it so 😋 also i did try to make this gender neutral but if i added any gendered terms lmk 😭

pairings: johnny, bi-han, and syzoth

Johnny Cage ⭐

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Since Johnny is one of the biggest celebrities in the world, you already know he has to throw a Halloween party. He goes ALL out and invites everybody who's anybody. His costume was a sexy devil, y'know the one. It was either that or he was gonna go as himself 😭.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° I actually feel like Johnny would be the type to change costumes during the night so, he kicks off the night in the sexy devil costume and ends it in a vampire one.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° As his s/o you were automatically considered his Halloween date. You arrived at the party in your own fabulous costume, a perfect complement to Johnny's devilish charm.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° The party was a wild mix of celebrities, music, and flashy costumes. With the music pumping, Johnny took your hand, and you both hit the dance floor. Dancing with him was an experience like no other! He moved with the confidence and charm that had made him a star.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° His by-far favorite part of the dancing was when you threw it back on him and he caught it 😭‼️.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° As the night continued, Johnny showed you off and introduced you to many of his guests. The party became a whirlwind of laughter, and unforgettable memories, with Johnny as the mastermind of it all.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° I feel like after he drinks he gets hella clingy with you, kissing all up on you, whispering in your ear, and ready to kick everyone out so the both of you can go upstairs and have some alone time.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° The morning after, he had such a headache. But he didn't regret anything he did at all that night. The party was huge and definitely one to go down in superstar history.

Bi-Han ❄️

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° He was 100% dragged here by you. If you didn't make him dance with you, he would've totally spent the whole night in a random corner. He thinks the party is stupid, he could be training new recruits but instead his loving partner just HAD to drag him to a party.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Immediately after the dance, he heads straight back to the corner. This time he's once again interrupted by a drunk party-go-er.

"Yeah man! How are you liking the party?!" Some random guy yelled over the loud music. Bi-Han rolled his eyes and grunted, still remaining silent.

"Ah, don't be like that big guy, live a little! Hey, how about we get you a drink, yeah?" Bi-Han let's the guy drag him through the house full of people and into the kitchen for drinks.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° "Here ninja dude, this will definitely hit the spot." Finally the guy pats his back and heads back to partying. Bi-Han takes a sip of the drink and from there it was UP. The idea of someone like him being a lightweight is so funny to me 😭

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° He completely did a 180 and went straight to looking for you. Once he found you, you thought he wanted to leave but oh were you in for a surprise. Bi-Han grabbed you by the waist, dipped you, and kissed you. This surprised you since he's not one for public affection, but you were never gonna deny anything that came from him.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° After that drink got in his system, he became the absolute LIFE of the party okay! Doing stunts and all of the above. He almost took it too far when he decided he wanted to use his powers in front of everybody, that's when you decided it was time for you two to leave 😭.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° "But I really liked the party Y/N :( Can we please go back inside?"

"Okay fine, how many fingers am I holding up?" You challenged.

"...Let's just go home." He slumped in defeat.

Syzoth 🦎

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° He's actually never been to a party where he could actually be himself so, all of this was VERY new to him. I feel like he would definitely let his original form out quite a bit that night since it's literally a Halloween party. Now, I imagine you guys party hop, cause there's no way he could switch in between form at the same parties 💀.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Either way, he ends up LOVING every party you hop too. He loves that he can spend time and party with you and others while being himself and not having to hide. I feel like when he gets some alcohol in his system, he gets very friendly and excited. He gets many compliments on his 'lizard costume', which makes him beam with pride.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° He got a little too excited when he went to a snackbar and thought the eyes and spiders weren't real 💀. You shared a hearty laugh together as he realized they were just part of the Halloween decorations.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Overall for Syzoth, the Halloween party-hopping extravaganza turned out to be an unforgettable night where he could be himself and celebrate with you, a stark contrast to his usual hidden existence.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Surprisingly in the morning, he didn't have a hangover. But you sure did, (that is if you chose to drink) and he took care of you afterwards :]

additional note ! HAPPY HALLOWEEN TO PEOPLE THAT CELEBRATED 🫶🏾

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

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lalacliffthorne · 4 months

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a party and kisses at midnight - a new years modern!batboys drabble. 🎀🪩

(last one for this year, my lovelies, as a little thank you. I can't even describe how happy you all make my lil heart by adoring these silly little drabbles and this AU as much as I do!! love you all to bits!!! *mwah*)

"Why is it so fucking cooold..." Feyre's teeth were chattering as she hopped up and down on the spot, her breath a white cloud in the air.

"Cause it's winter,", Mor supplied, very helpfully, her voice slightly muffled from where her top half had disappeared into the trunk of her car. I snorted softly, shivering against the harsh cold wind brushing against my legs as I shifted from one foot to the other, clutching the three bottles with glittery booze Mor had handed me against my chest.

"And he really does this every year?" Feyre crunched her nose as she looked up towards the lit windows on the third flow, the star in my window shining in the dark.

"Yeah." Mor resurfaced, hair slightly tousled but triumphantly holding the bottle that had decided to roll into the depths of her trunk after she had taken a rather sharp curve. "Last year, he actually threw the whole thing in his dad's mansion, because he was out of town and Rhys had the sudden urge to be rebellious. It was a huge thing." She frowned. "How did you two miss that; the whole campus didn't talk about anything else for weeks."

I shrugged as she plucked a bottle out of my arms, tightening my freezing fingers. "We both spent Christmas at home, and then at New Years, we holed up in Feyre's apartment. We were in a severe food coma by midnight and didn't get out of bed before the next evening."

Feyre sighed happily, staring dramatically up into the sky. "The good old times."

I snorted and sent her a wide grin. "C'mon, you love the idea of an actual New Years party for a change. Rhys definitely put more effort into food than we did; he ordered some super fancy food and did some stuff himself, he basically spent the whole of yesterday in the kitchen and wouldn't let anyone peak."

"Also the view from the balcony is amazing at midnight!" Mor stretched to close the trunk of her car. "You can see all the fireworks from the neighborhood, and the ones down at the river."

"Why don't we go and see them there?" Feyre pouted.

"Because one, it's gonna be packed with severely drunk people, and two, like you just mentioned,", I climbed onto the sidewalk, bumping into her side and widening my eyes dramatically, "it's coooold!"

Feyre snickered. "Fuck off."

"If it gets too busy; I locked my room so there are no hook ups on my clean sheets, we can hole up in there." I pushed open the front door with my shoulder. The stairwell was warm, and I could hear music vibrating from the third floor.

"Yeah, because your sheets are so innocent." Mor grinned when I tried to kick at her, easily dodging my heel and raising her brows. "From what I've heard, your sheets have seen their fair share of not so clean action -"

"Oh, fuck you,", I growled over Feyre's cackling, pressing my elbow into her back to keep her from tipping over backwards from laughing while trying to fight the heat in my cheeks and the grin pushing onto my face. Mor snickered and blew me a kiss, and I flipped her off as best as possible with my arms full before beginning to push Feyre towards the stairs.

"Seriously, I always wondered; how is Azriel in the bedroom -"

"Mor, shut up!", Feyre and I called in unison, Feyre laughing so hard, I had to shove her up the stairs. Shrugging, Mor followed, flashing me a grin.

"Just curious, you know; I've heard he's quite skilled, and I mean, it makes sense, the quiet ones are usually the ones who go hardest -"

"Oh my God." I dropped my forehead against Feyre´s back as she stopped to hold onto the banister, giggling so loudly, she started hiccuping.

"Okay, fine, I'll stop." Mor grinned. "But only because I don't want Feyre to fall down the stairs before she can get her midnight kiss from Rhys."

My best friend stopped laughing abruptly, and it was my turn to snort and cackle.

Feyre's cheeks glowed pink as she glared at Mor. "I don't -"

"Sure." Mor smirked and slipped past us, sending her a wink before sauntering up the stairs. Feyre glowered at her back, beginning to stomp after her, and giggling, I followed after both of them.

Up on the third floor, the music and noise made the floor vibrate.

"How do the neighbours don't complain every year?" Feyre widened her eyes slightly, readjusting the packages of snacks she was balancing in her arms with her chin.

"Probably used to the boys being loud." I smirked.

"I think Rhys always invites the people right below you, and the ones down on the first floor usually spend New Years somewhere else, so they don't really got anything to complain about." Mor knocked her elbow against the door. "And the old folks next door wouldn't even hear a whole football team tap dancing up the stairs, so -"

Feyre and I started giggling, and Mor grinned before widening her eyes when someone pulled the door open. "Thank God, I'm starving."

Following Feyre into the hall, I sighed happily at the warmth enveloping me as I kicked the door shut. Feyre peeled off her jacket before taking one of the bottles out of my arms, and I slipped out of my coat, squeezing it onto the overflowing coat hanger next to the door.

There were people filling the hall, the kitchen and crowding the living room; coworkers of Cassian and friends of the boys from the gym, some of the guys Rhys played basketball with, people from uni and classes and a whole lot I didn´t know. It was loud and full and smelled of stale air, perfume and food.

Mor, Feyre and I slipped past kitchen, where the Christmas decorations were still up and the counter had been transformed into a bar, with lights and all. Putting the glittering booze down, I followed after the other two into the living room. The tree was glittering, lametta draped over the branches after Cassian and I had taken down all the baubles this afternoon. Streamers were hanging over the shelves, ceilings and windows, along with big floating balloons. Cassian almost ran into one when he spotted us, starting to grin widely.

"Hey!" He ducked under some silver streamers and pressed kisses to Mor's and Feyre's cheeks, the latter clearly not used to his teddy bear behavior yet, then he slung an arm around my waist and lifted me off the ground slightly in a tight hug. When he let me slip to the ground again, he sent me a shit-eating smirk. "Look at you; you know, if Az isn't around at midnight, I'd totally -"

I kicked his shin the same moment someone behind me snorted, and as Cassian winced, an arm was dropped over my shoulders.

"If you think Az wouldn't make sure he gets his midnight kiss, you've inhaled too much glitter." Rhys' lazy smirk was audible in his voice as he leaned down his head a little. I pressed a kiss onto his offered cheek and called over the noise: "Where is he?"

Rhys opened his mouth before closing it again and smirking, nodding over my head, and turning around, I followed his gaze.

My heart dipped and swerved, and my breath hitched in my throat when over the heads of the crowd, I found golden amber eyes piercing mine.

Azriel was leaning against the wall next to the fireplace. His shoulders strained against his simple black t-shirt, tattoos scattered over his arms, his dark hair tousled. He looked glowering as usual, not paying any attention to the people bustling around him, but some of his scowl slipped away his eyes dragged over mine. Then he pushed off the wall and started moving through the crowd, towards us, people getting out of his way quickly. But he didn't even spre them a glance, just kept watching me, something warm and deep and twinkling in his eyes that caused my heart to begin fluttering quickly.

Rhys slid his arm from my shoulder and moved past me to greet Mor and Feyre, sending the latter a grin that caused her cheeks to grow pink even as she huffed, and Azriel pushed past him. Something rose into my throat as I tipped my head back to look up at him, parting my lips to drop a teasing remark about his outfit that didn´t deviate from his usual in the slightest - but before I could even make a sound, Azriel dipped his head and kissed me.

A small sound broke from my chest at the firm press of his lips, my breath catching in my throat when I felt his hand slide up to my neck, and my heart swelled and pulsed under my ribs as my fingers curled into the soft cotton of Azriel's t-shirt and my knees turned to jello.

Azriel's lips curved upwards slightly against mine. I felt his tall, solid body press against mine, his calloused thumb gently tracing the line of my throat. Then Azriel slowly broke the kiss, his nose gently nudging mine as he pulled back his head just a little to stare down at me, his eyes golden in the warm pulsing lights. There was the slightest trace of a crease in his cheek, curtesy of a small smirk as he leaned down again to press a light kiss onto the corner of my lips.

"Hi." His deep voice vibrated through me, low and smooth, and I managed a breathless "Hello." that caused the crease in his cheek to deepen as he broke into a grin that was shit-eating enough to rival the one Cassian usually was sporting. I quickly pinched his side, no give to his muscles when he winced a little and glared at me.

"Hey, Az."

Cassian probably had a sixth sense for someone just remotely thinking of him, because he was smirking when Azriel straightened and turned enough that I could peak past him, just in time to see the twinkle in Cassian's eyes when he sent me a light wink.

"I was just saying - Y/N looks too pretty to not be kissed at midnight; I'd volunteer if -"

Azriel scowled darkly, and I snorted a laugh and flipped Cassian off. He pretended to catch it, sending back a kiss and grinning widely, and Azriel rolled his eyes and turned back towards me with a shake of his head, but there was a light twinkle in his iris when he gently pushed me past him towards one of the armchairs.

"Okay, only fifteen minutes til midnight!" Rhys' loud voice echoed through the apartment, answered by whoops and cheers, and I grinned into my drink when I felt Azriel's chest vibrate with a huff.

I was tucked into his side in one of the armchairs, my legs draped over his lap and dangling over one of the armrests, his arm draped over my back. His right hand was slowly running up and down my shin, his scarred skin warm through the thin pair of thights I was wearing, his thumb brushing over my knee once in a while. Mor and Feyre were lounging on the couch a little to my left, facing us, Cassian reclined lazily next to them as he grinned when Rhys moved past the coffee table.

They had kept coming and going, but Azriel and I had spent almost all of the past three hours in the same spot. Mor had dragged me up to dance twice, and I'd only let her because it meant I could stock up on snacks on my way back to where Azriel stayed lounging lazily in the big armchair, dark eyes calm and watchful on the people laughing and mingling and talking loudly around him. Everytime I returned, his legs parted slightly, and he shifted until I had plopped back down next to him before dragging my legs over his lap and stealing some of the food or a drink I was carrying. He looked perfectly comfortable, and no one dared bothering him, the glowering looks he sent Cassian and Rhys' way whenever they got too close warning enough to anyone else.

I had huddled up with Feyre in the kitchen for a while, curled up on one corner of the couch and giggling, and got pulled into conversations with her and Mor and the boys more than once. But I was always pulled back towards Azriel and the place squeezed into his side, talking quietly over the noise, Azriel's nose brushing my hair when he mumbled something into my ear, his lips curving into a light smirk whenever his words sent me into a fit of giggles. When I twisted to whisper into his ear, the scent of his cologne flooded my nose, and I could feel warmth wash over me.

It felt like we were in our own little bubble, comfortably curled up in the middle of the chaos, barely even noticing the people around us whenever the others had disappeared into the crowd again.

"Let's go outside so we get a good place on the balcony!" A coat was thrown at me, nearly landing on my head, and I jumped, my eyes darting up to glower at Rhys, but he just winked before tossing Azriel his jacket.

Sighing and grumbling, I laborously dug myself out of the armchair. I could feel Azriel's chest brush my back when he rose to his feet, towering over me, his calloused fingers gently pulling my hair out of the way when I slipped into my coat before he slid into his jacket.

Wrapping the thick scarf Feyre had gifted me last Christmas around my neck, I shivered happily as I buried myself in my coat, feeling Azriel's warm fingers sliding over my palm. My heart rose when they slipped into the spaces between mine, linking them together firmly, his thumb brushing lightly over my skin. Then his biceps gently bumped into my shoulder, pushing me over to the window doors leading out onto the balcony.

The air was freezing, our breath rising in white clouds when we stepped onto the balcony. The fairy lights wrapped around the balcony were glowing in a warm golden light just like the bushes in the huge stone pots where we huddled against the stone balustrade. Mor's teeth were chattering dramatically as she slightly swayed on the spot, and Feyre's nose was pink when she huffed at something Rhys mumbled, but I could see the way she hid a wide beaming smile in her scarf. Rhys was staring at the side of her face.

There was a gentle huff against my hair, and when I looked up over my shoulder, Azriel's chest pressed into my back, his hands sliding into my pockets to link our fingers. His eyes were on Rhys and Feyre as well, and there was a knowing twinkle in his eyes as he watched his best friend stare at mine.

Feeling my heart rise and a giddy giggle pulse under my ribs, I turned back ahead, flashing Cassian a grin over Mor's head. He winked back, his wide smile causing his cheeks to crease.

Slowly, the others joined us on the balcony and at the windows. When I heard the door down on the street, I leaned forward to look over the balustrade and saw that some people had decided to watch the fireworks of the neighbourhood from down on the sidewalk.

Rhys kept looking on his watch, counting down the time. Azriel wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on my head as I played with his fingers, leaning back into his solid chest and feeling something thrum against my ribs. Mor disappeared back into the flat for a minute and returned with some glasses filled with sparkling, bubbling drinks she placed on the broad balustrade in front of us. I shivered in excitement, shifting giddily in the spot as Rhys started counting down the seconds to midnight.

The people around us started joining in until everyone was counting. I felt my heart rise and flutter as a stupidly wide grin spread over my face, Mor bumping her shoulder into mine and Feyre hopping around giddily on the spot.

"Four!"

Mor giggled and leaned forward to press a smacking kiss onto my cheek before looping her arm through Cassian´s, hitting his stomach so forcefully in excitement, he actually coughed a little.

"Three!"

Feyre squeezed my arm and beamed at me, and I caught a glimpse at Rhys on her other side, staring down at her like he was trying to make a decision.

"Two!"

I breathed out and closed my eyes, feeling heat in my cheeks despite the cold and the pulsing thrum of my heart against my ribs and the warmth blooming in my chest growing bigger and bigger.

"One!"

Azriel's hands slipped out of mine, his chest pressing into my back as his arm slid around my waist and turned me around, and as everyone yelled "Happy New Year!", Azriel´s hands slipped up to cradle my face, and he leaned down and kissed me.

My heart rose in a wild flutter, and I slid my hands under his coat, his chest curving into mine as Azriel kissed me, deep and heated and all-consuming, his tongue twisting with mine as a soft sound broke from his chest, and I clung to him, feeling the thrum in my chest explode like the fireworks over us in the sky, showering my body in golden glittering sparkles until it felt like I was floating, my heart rising until I couldn´t breathe.

I could hear whoops and jeers all around, a little far away and like slow motion, felt Azriel´s calloused fingers cradling my face and the slight shudder in his breath when his nose dragged over mine. Then he kissed me again, his hands sliding down as my arms wrapped around his neck and my body curved into his as his hands pressed against my back, and I felt something begin to pulse against my ribs.

"Happy New Year,", Azriel mumbled against my lips, his deep, hoarse voice causing a shudder to run down my spine, and I clung to him, feeling a ridiculously wide smile slowly spreading over my face.

"Happy New Year."

Azriel's nose nudged mine, and his eyes, dark and molten, pierced mine. Then he dipped his head and mumbled into my ear: "C'mon."

My breath hitched, and my heart rose into my throat when his hand slipped under my coat and pushed me past him, through the crowd towards the doors leading inside.

I could feel him in my back, towering over me as we slipped through the people cheering and toasting in the living room. Something was thrumming against my ribs, twisting in my stomach when Azriel unlocked the door to his door and I moved past him, turning and feeling my heart beginning to flutter against my ribs when Az closed the door. The lock clicked, and Azriel slid out of his jacket, stepping towards me. His warm, calloused hands slipped under my scarf, his fingers tracing up my neck as he unwrapped it slowly. Dropping it to the floor, he dipped his head, his nose brushing against mine as the noise outside grew, mixing with the muffled crashing of fireworks.

The pulsing feeling in my chest turned into a hurricane, and Azriel slipped his hands to the back of my neck and kissed me, deep and hard and unhurried. Then he pushed my coat off my shoulders and leaned down, sliding his arm under my backside and lifting me off the ground.

When an hour later, we slipped back into the living room, the bass was making the floor vibrate, people were cheering and dancing, and Cassian, lounging on the couch, hollered while Rhys whistled, but Azriel just rolled his eyes. They couldn't see the scratch marks on his shoulders beneath the crumpled material of his t-shirt, or the love bites littering my skin underneath my dress, but swollen lips and messy hair and the way Azriel's hand slipped under the seam of my dress when he pulled me into his lap were enough.

Enough for Cassian to smirk and Rhys to chuckle and for Mor to wiggle her brows when she dragged me to my feet only seconds later, pulling me with her towards Feyre, the both of them cackling. Flipping them off, I let them pull me towards the people dancing and looked over my shoulder, and my heart rose when for a second, my eyes found Azriel's through the crowd, watching me, his eyes molten and deep, swirling with something that made my breath hitch.

I blinked, then I slowly started to smile, bright and cheeky, before sending him a wink, and I saw the huffed laugh leaving him, something dipping in my stomach when I turned around with a beaming smile.

The flat stayed filled with people until well into the morning. I was pulled into the crowd again and again, and yet - no matter how long I danced with Mor and Feyre, played beer pong with Cassian or mixed drinks with Rhys that were so bad, he declared us unfit to ever to do it again - I always ended back in the corner of the couch, with the scent of cedar and darkness filling my lungs, an arm wrapped around me and a deep, low voice mumbling into my ear, light kisses pressed against my neck and a scarred hand wrapped around my knee.

And by the time Mor and Feyre crashed in my bed and Cassian had dozed off on the couch and Rhys let the door fall shut behind the last people, groaning happily, I was already fast asleep, wearing only a t-shirt that smelled like home, curled up against a warm, solid chest, leg thrown over a bare hip and nose pressed into warm skin as Azriel slid his arms tighter around me, dragging me up and further into his body as his tall form curled around me and he buried his face in the crook of my neck.

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secret-ly-here @knmendiola @luvmoo @azriels-mate2 @bookishbroadwaybish @maybe-a-winchester @stayinglow-exploringworlds @harrystylesfan2686 @icey--stars @ssmay123

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