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shelbgrey · 8 months ago

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Dating Derek Shepherd Headcanons(remastered)

Paring: Derek Shepherd x Reader

Summary: headcanons about being Meredith Grey's cousin and dating McDreamy. -SMUT warning!

💙MasterList ML2 💙Dating Moodboard

Your story starts at a coffee shop, sounds simple but your interaction really wasn't. You first met Derek a few months before your internship at the hospital. You just moved to Seattle with your cousin Meredith Grey and your meeting with Derek was totally unexpected but you'll never forget it.

Now, as weird or stereotypical it may sound it was love at first sight to Derek. You were there by yourself studying a medical book and Derek just happened to be walking by and saw you in the window.

He literally stopped when he saw you.

He wanted to talk to you so bad but he chickened out at first. In his eyes you were the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. You were right there and he finally worked up the courage to talk to you.

“Why would an amazing woman like you even talk to someone like me? That was the first thing he'd ever said to you and the words that fell from his mouth surprised you both.

you but you couldn't help but blush at his boldness.“Why not?”

The both of you talked into the day. You brought up that you were starting your intern year and he brought up he was a nero attending. Surprisingly you both failed to mention what hospital you were working at.

He was the first person to actually ask what you wanted to do in the medical field. To you it always felt like an unspoken rule that you and Meredith would become general Surgeons, that's not what you wanted and for some reason when he asked that you felt you could trust him.

“no one's ever asked me that before”

“well, I am” Derek smiled sencerly.

“I thought about Peds or Truama as my specialty”

He was pretty much smitten by you from the start. He couldn't keep his eyes off of you and for you a guy has never looked at you the way he did. It made you blush and feel things you never felt before.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you asked blushing.

“because your beautiful”

It was like he was something out of a romance book.

Even though it was the best conversation you had in a long time you unfortunately had to leave and meet Meredith some where. Derek wasn't about to let you go just yet so he offered to walk you to where you had to meet Meredith.

Then he asked for your number. It just felt too good to be true when it came to him, so you decided to mess with him a little bit. “you could be a masked murderer for all I know”

He would just chuckle and not take it personally. “there's always that possibility... Come on live a little”

You gave in with a loving heart. You wrote your number and drew a heart on a sticky note then stuck to his chest where his heart was.

Your first date was simple but romantic. You told him you weren't into anything too extravagant, so you went to a nice Italian restaurant and you talked the whole hole time.

You talked about anything and everything. Favorite movies, favorite childhood memories. You talked about why you guys became doctors, but failed to mention you both would be working at Seattle Grace Hospital.

Communication won't be a problem in your relationship. You both just find it so easy to talk to each other.

Later that night you went to your place and watched a movie. You almost kissed, but you made a rule not to kiss on the first date. Derek respected that and didn't have a problem waiting for you.

But you couldn't help it, your first kiss happened on the fourth date. You were at the movies and you couldn't help but lean into each other. The kiss was passionate and sweet. He held you and treated you like you were the only girl in the world.

The way he kisses you makes your heart race. He holds your face in his hands and you honestly feel like you and him are the only things that matter in the world.

He never felt this way with anyone, not even Addison.

You guys were dating for about a month before you started your internship at the hospital. You were suprised when Dr. Bailey asinged you to be on his service, you didn't even know he was an Attending there.

When you saw him you grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into an on-call room. “so you work here?”

He smirked. “yeah and so do you apparently”

Even though your relationship was growing stronger by the minute and it was going at a pace you both were comfortable with, you were worried about the fact you were an intern and he was an Attending.

You explained this, but he wasn't worried he just stared at you like a love sick puppy the whole time you talked. You sighed. “stop looking at me like that”

“like what? Like your the most beautiful woman in the world” he clicked his tough and shrugged with a stupid, adorable smirk. “sorry, I can't just not do that”

So you powered through it and ignored the whispers and honestly it made you two stronger as a couple.

You have an old black Labrador that is your protector and shadow. He didn't like Derek at first. Your dog Duke would stare him down every time he came over to the house, grumble at him and make sure to sleep on Derek's side of the bed, and he will shove his way between you if Derek was hugging you.

“there's this old soul that's just really hates my guts”

After a while Duke dose warm up to him and the two become quite close. If he works the night shift he'll pet Duke before he leaves and tells the dog to take care of you while he's gone. “take care of her buddy”

Your a Peds surgeon, you always look forward to having surgeries with him if the patient needs him.

You steal his ferry boat scrub cap all the time. You'd just get done with a surgery wearing it and when you come out of the OR you'd see Derek leaning against the wall with his arms crossed waiting for you. “I was looking for that... I didn't have it during my surgery”

You'd just shrugged and give him a cute smile. “but I love this one”

“your lucky you look cute in it”

He is your biggest supporter. Derek is your absolute number #1 fan, everything you do amazes him. You've never had a man supporting and encouraging you every day and night.

He's big on hand holding too, if your walking around the city your hands will be locked together, or sometimes hell just hold your had if your setting down at a table or something.

This man need physical contact a lot. He's a big cuddler and just needs you in his arms, it's a comfort and a protection thing.

“cuddle me?” he asked, giving you puppy eyes and holding his arms open. You smiled and cuddle up to his chest.

Your always resuring him that your always gonna be by his side. With that I think he's secretary insecure, Addison cheating on him really did a number on him. He trusts you, 100% but deep down he has this fear you'd find someone better.

You always tell him he's the only one for you and you love him “your so Handsome, have I ever told you that?”

“Yes dear, so many times” he smiled.

He leaves post-it notes all around the house for you. You find them everywhere. In your bag, the book your reading at the time. On top of your favourite cup. Stuck onto the mirror in the bathroom, if he has to get up and go to the hospital late into the night heal leave one on his pillow. He loves those little details. Loves to write you silly or romantic notes because he knows how much you love them.

Your Favorite one he ever wrote was, 'If I were to kiss you and then go to hell I would, so then I can brag with the devils I saw heaven without even entering it.'

You've kept every single note he's writin you.

He's so flirty with you. No matter how many years you've been together, he still thinks you're the sexiest, most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

He'll learn quickly your a book warm. Sometimes if your reading and not giving him any attention he'll wedge his way between you and the book, resting his head on your chest.

Like I said, he flirts with you so much. Some times he'll come up behind you while your working and whispere suggestive comment in your ear or grab your ass.

Watching old Universal monster movies together and the show The Munsters.

If it's a smut book you get really secretive about and he'll notice quickly. “What you reading?” you blush and hold the book away from him. “nothing”

If he gets a hold of the book and reads a steamy part if the book he'd want to try everything he read with you.

Your hospital 'nickname' would probably be bookworm, but then after you and derek get married it'll be Lady Shepherd. Mark will tease you sometimes and call you McWife.

Speaking of which you and Mark become pretty good friends surprisingly. It'll scare Derek at first and in the back of his mind he'll have this fear of Mark sleeping with you.

“I'm not gonna lie she's beautiful... But I promise I won't do that to you ever again” Mark said to Derek.

Even if you're good friends with Mark he's not your person. Callie is your person and later on you become close to April and kinda become her guard dog.

When you fight you both always feel guilty. It hurts Derek seeing you so said. What makes it worse for him is when he's the reason for your pain. He's always the first to apologize. He hold you from behind, whispering he's sorry over and over.

“don't McDreamy me”

“McDreamy is being a McAss”

He drives like a maniac. Plain and simple. “Jesus Christ, Derek, we Are Not on a race track, why Are You Going so Fast?!!?!?”

He's a car guy. Old classic cars, muscle cars, race cars, anything. You don't really care for cars except for the iconic ones in movies or TV shows. “you just want a 67 impala because it's in 'Supernatural”

He may tease you about it, but he'd definitely try and find one for you. He's got that neurosurgeon money, so he can afford it😂

You guys play 'slug bug' or 'punch buggy'(whatever you call it), but he changes the rules a lot. “it's a water cooled one, it don't count”

“Yes it does!” you sighed and punched his shoulder again.

And don't even think about putting your feet on the dash of his car. “if we get in wreak your gonna go threw the windshield... And your gonna mess up the dash, get your feet down”

If you make him a bracelet he's never taking it off. You both probably have matching bracelets made of paracord or beads.

Your Song is 'you took the words right out of my mouth' by Meatloaf.

Ferry boat rides all the time. Sometimes just to get to work or maybe it'll be for a small date.

You definitely screw on one though...

God, this man loves everything about you. You have a couple of tattoos, he wants to know about them. It doesn't matter what type of hair you have or if you like it or not, he loves it. He'll love your voice, body, personality... Everything.

It won't take him long to open up to you about what happened to his father and how he felt about Amilea's drug addiction.

He wishes his dad got to meet you. “he would have loved you”

Now, his mom loves you. She thinks you balance Derek out quite well. She was a little concerned ablut the age gap at first, but she quickly found out you and derek love each other more than anything.

After the hospital shooting his mom will call you and check on you after she knows for certain Derek's okay. Her husband was shot and killed, so she wanted call you and check on you since you almost lost Derek the same way she lost her husband.

Now all of his sisters, aside from Liz hates you. It breaks Derek's heart. Nancy really doesn't like you and for no apparent reason too. It pissed Derek off so much when Nancy kept calling you a 'sluty intern` when she first met her.

“she's not sluty! She's beautiful, Smart. She has a heart of gold... You nothing about her, not a damn thing. You don't know the things that damn hospital says about her just because we we're together, you don't know the fact she's been through so much she only feels safe in my arms. She keeps get pushed down, but some how she gets back up still smiling.... Don't you ever call her Sluty again”

He's a family man and deserves one. When Alex did the medical project with the kids from Africa you and derek get assigned to a orphaned 6 year old boy named Atticus. He was of Asian decent and no one knew how he ended up with the group.

Neither one of you cold explain it, but you guys just knew he was your kid. You and derek were the only two he trust and once all his medical stuff was settled you adopted him.

Later on you two have twins. One boy named Jason and a daughter named Charlotte. They both look like Derek, but have your eyes.

He can be a rough kisser, but mostly he's a passionate kisser. He pours all his love and emotions into it, he makes sure your the only one on this earth he wants to love.

He's soft with you. He's so gentle and delicate and you can tell through the way he brushes your hair from your face or the way he nuzzles his face into your neck that he just absolutely adores you.

If your in bed he'll always have his arms around you. Rather your the little spoon or your on his chest. But sometimes if his day is rough he'd want to lay his head on your chest. His favorite feeling in the world is your arms around him and your fingers running through his hair.

He absolutely loves feeling your fingers run through his hair. He'll kill to have his head on your cheat while you play with his hair after a rough day at the hospital.

He can turn you on so easily, one look and you know to head into a spare on-call room.

NSFW headcanons:

He's that perfect mixture of slow and passionate but when you've had a stressful day and you need a little bit harder, a little rougher he will provide.

If he's had a rough day, he either needs one of two things. A rough fuck or he needs to curl up beside you and rest his head on your chest while you play with his hair.

He's a boob man, He’ll push your bra up and take a nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirls all around while he squeezes your hips.

He'll bury his face into your boobs as he pounds into you. He loves it when you start moaning and tugging at his hair, He honestly can’t get enough.

he loves grabbing you by the hips, literally squeezing his fingertips against your soft skin, holding you in the place or using them to help guide the pace.

He probably knows your body better than you do. He knows every single one of your ticks.

Hair pulling, he loves feeling your fingers in his hair or he'll tangel his fingers in yours and tug on it when he's getting head or about ready to cum.

He didn't realize how much he actually liked it untill you started pulling on his hair while he was eating you out. “Damn... Do that again... Please”

He love getting head. He loves having you on your knees. Plus, feeling your lips around him pushes him closer to cumming in your mouth.

Bondeg kink, his ties, belts, he'll tie you up with anything.

He needs to be in control....

He loves missionary, keeping eye contact while he fucks you. He loves how you dig your nails into his back and wrap your legs around his waist to bring him impossibly closer.

He wants to see if he can he make you scream louder than he did the last time. He loves the noises you make.

If you try to hold back your noises or even muffle them when it's unnecessary, he'd put an end to it. “don't hold back, let me hear your voice”

But he also lives for the moments where it's just sensual and gentle. He secretly loves just holding you and kissing you slowly.

He definitely has a Praise kink, he loves making you feel loved and appreciated. He love how he can easily make you blush.

“God, your so beautiful”

He's very skilled with his tounge, he loves eating you out. your legs around his head. He loves your legs in general and loves leaving kisses on the insides of your thighs. He'd rather pleasure you for hours than receive.

Biting, he's loves marking you up. There has been many times you had to cover your neck with makeup, but most of the bite marks are on your thighs.

Has a soft spot for sex in the shower, he loves holding you up against the wall, roughly while he drives his cock into you.

If you want to take a shower and get cleaned up, Derek will lift you up in his arms and carry you to shower, he'll hold you safe and will be extremely gentle with your sensitive body.

Dispite him being mostly rough in bed and pushes you to the point of screaming, he'll be so soft and gentle in the end. “you did so good for my baby, I wasn’t too rough was I?”

He's very attentive when it comes to aftercare. you want a warm bath? Done. You want massages? Done. You ask, he delivers. All he cares about is your comfort, he insists on cleaning up any mess that's on you or the bed. If he sees any marks or bruises he will apologize for that with a soft smile on his face.

#Derek shepherd headcanons #Derek shepherd x reader #Derek shepherd imagines #Derek shepherd smut #Greys anatomy imagines #Patrick Dempsey #Greys anatomy x reader #Greys anatomy

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 1 month ago

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When What We Had was Everything Pt. 1

This is a three part fic series and will complete three of my @jacklesversebingo card spaces. This first part will fill the "You won't take care of yourself, so I will." square. Pt. 2 will fill the But We Lost It square. Pt. 3 will fill the They're Out of Time square. ❤️

Summary: When Y/N really needs him, Jensen steps up, leaving all their past in the past. Can Y/N possibly do the same?

Pairing: Jensen x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: None in this chapter. Brief talk of grief and loss. Extremely stressed reader. Smidge of angst.

Word Count: 4,051

A/N: I hope you enjoy this short fic series. Just three parts. This first part also fulfills a request from the lovely dove anon.

I keep hearing the TikTok audio that’s like “you came?” “You called.” could you write a jensen fic maybe related to it? I feel like it would be sooo wholesome and so cute I’m obsessed with the thought!!

I hope it's what you were looking for sweetie.

Part 2 will be out next week. Probably, Wednesday the 23rd. And Part 3 should be out on Wednesday the 30th. Let me know what you think of this first part. ❤️

Series Master List || Jensen Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

Y/N felt the pain throb behind her eyes again and pinched the bridge of her nose as her little sister’s husband pouted.

“I thought this was good.” He whined, pointing to the tuxedo hanging from the hanger in his hand.

The tuxedo was four sizes too small for her father; it had a white, lacy, ruffled shirt to go with it, and it was black. It wasn’t even close to what she’d asked him to find. But she took a deep breath and tried for kindness.

“No, Jason, it’s great. But Dad was pretty specific about what…” Y/N swallowed. “He was specific about what he wanted to be buried in, he wrote it all out for us. He said he wanted a suit like the one he wore when he and mom got married. You know, dark blue, plain white shirt, and…” She didn’t bother to mention the size wasn’t even close.

She lifted a hand towards him. “Don’t...do you still have the reference picture I gave you?”

Jason pulled the small square picture out of his pocket and looked at it before showing it to Y/N. “Yeah, that’s what I got him. Basically. I mean, I’m not gonna be able to get his exact same suit.”

Y/N felt the scream bubble up in her lungs, the scream that had been building inside of her for days, and she was seconds away from letting it loose on her useless brother-in-law. Instead she snatched the picture away from him.

“It’s fine.” She said and she knew her voice was too sharp, so she tempered it with a smile and tried again. “It’s fine. Thanks, I’ll just. I’ll find something. I appreciate your help.”

Jason did everything but roll his eyes as he huffed away and tossed the tuxedo across a beautifully upholstered chair in the wide, spacious living room.

The last few days had made Y/N more grateful than ever that her parents had been blessed enough to afford the large house that she and her brother and sister had grown up in. As it stood, they had twelve cousins, three aunts, four uncles, and two of her dads colleagues from Europe staying in the house. Even for a home as big and accommodating as theirs, the house was bursting at the seams.

Which reminded her that she still had to figure out something for supper for everyone. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and called the local pizza place to order a bunch of pizzas and salads. Their small town still didn’t have grub hub available, so Ant’s Pizza and Italian Food would have to do.

As she was placing the order, her little brother, David, came bounding through the back door, his energy and massive smile was at odds with the slightly solemn atmosphere of the house. But she knew it was just how he dealt, lots of denial, and a fair amount of weed.

She caught his eye as he headed towards the basement where he and two younger cousins were bunking together. She waved him over and spoke briefly into the phone.

“Can you give me just a sec. Thanks.” She moved the phone away from her mouth and spoke quietly to her brother. “Davie, you have to leave in less than an hour to pick Auntie Sheila up at the airport. Are you still good to do that?”

David sucked air through his teeth. “Ooh, I definitely think I’m too high to drive.”

“David.” Y/N admonished, the scream building in her chest once again. “I told you yesterday I’d need you to grab her. You couldn’t stay sober for -”

He cut her off, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, so sorry I messed up, Y/N/N. I guess my dad just died so I’m a little bummed, and decided to try and chill a bit.” He waved a hand to encompass the house. “There’s like a million fucking people here, no one else can do it?”

He stomped off with the cousins and Y/N watched him leave before whispering, “Yeah, funnily enough my dad died too.”

“What was that?” The woman on the other end of the phone sounded a bit annoyed to be kept waiting.

“Sorry.” Y/N said quickly, continuing on with the order.

She hung up and pulled up her list of things that had to be done before the funeral the next day. They still had to send over the list of songs her dad had wanted them to play at the ceremony and the funeral home had sent her an email with the layout of the funeral program and needed her okay on it, But they’d misspelled her mom’s name in the small obituary that graced the back page.

"Stephen was predeceased by his loving wife of thirty-two years, Martha (nee Layland)", the program read.

Her mother’s name was Marcia. She needed to get back to them about that right away, before they printed them out and her father was forever linked to some random woman named Martha.

She pulled up the email and was typing a response while she stood in the hallway. She was sort of existing in limbo, not willing to commit to sitting in any one room, because inevitably as soon as she sat down, something would crop up and need her attention in another room. So, for two days she’d barely sat down, barely eaten, and was going on a total of about five hours of sleep.

As she shifted from foot to foot, writing the email, her little sister came around the corner and her face was annoyed.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N asked.

Tears came to Josie’s eyes and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Jason says you were really rude to him about Dad’s suit. I don’t think that was called for. I mean, he was trying to help; he was doing us a favor by going to get it. He says you told him he screwed up. That really upset him.”

Y/N stopped writing and closed her phone. “Jo, Dad wanted a suit like the blue one he wore when he and mom got married, remember?”

Josie nodded and shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Well, Jason got a black tuxedo, with some kind of weird ruffled shirt.”

She pointed to the tux draped over the chair and Josie went over to pick it up. Her nose scrunched up and she dashed away her tears.

“Oh.” Then she shook her head. “What the hell, this thing is way too small for him.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, that too.”

“Ugh!” Josie dropped the tuxedo like it was filthy. “K, sorry, Y/N/N. I’ll go yell at him.”

Y/N grabbed her sister's arm. “No, sweetie. Don’t do that. I don’t want you to upset him. It was nice of him to try.”

I also don’t need the added drama of you and your little boy spouse yelling and fighting. Y/N thought.

But she gave Josie a kiss on the forehead and brushed her fingers through her hair, like she used to when they were kids and her baby sister would get in trouble. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’ll go find something else in a bit.”

Josie nodded and sniffled. “I still can’t believe this is happening, you know. I mean, I guess that’s stupid since he’s been sick so long, but…I don’t know, it just still feels sudden. I don’t know how that’s possible.”

Y/N pushed down her own tears to wipe away her little sister’s as they fell. “I know Joey.” She said, slipping into the childhood nickname that Josie had forced her to stop using in Junior High. “No matter what, he was here and then he was gone, and that will always feel sudden, I think.”

Y/N pulled her into a tight hug. “But him and mom are together again, tearing up heaven, I bet.”

Josie laughed softly through her tears. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised.” She sighed and pulled away, wiping her tears. “Yeah, they always said they were a match made in heaven, so I’m sure they rule the place already.”

The sisters chuckled together, as their fond memories mingled together and brought them each a moment of peace. Josie shattered it for Y/N by raising a curious eyebrow.

“So…speaking of a match made in heaven, any word back from Jensen?”

Y/N felt her stomach plummet and she shook her head quickly. “No, I couldn’t reach him. I left a message, but I know he’s shooting in Australia. So, he’s literally on the other side of the world. He won’t be able to make it.”

She shook her head again, angry at herself this time. “It was stupid to call him anyway. I haven’t spoken to him for months, since before Dad even got sick. It was so friggin dumb to call and leave a voicemail being like, ‘Hey, my dad died.’ Ugh!”

Josie gave her a sympathetic look. “No, you were right to let him know at least. He and Dad got along great when you guys were together, so I'm sure he’d wanna know. And who knows, maybe he’ll call you back at least.”

Her gaze became calculating. “Which will give you the chance to tell him how stupid you were to let him go, and how much you still love him!”

“Uh uh.” Y/N replied sharply. “That’s not happening, Jo. I can not think about anything like that right now.”

The last thing she needed was for her ongoing Jensen heartache and the heartbreak from the loss of her father, to combine and completely debilitate her.

Josie looked like she was going to continue, but something in Y/N’s expression seemed to change her mind. Instead, she just shrugged and turned to leave.

“K, whatever you say. I’m starving. I need food.”

Y/N smiled, ignoring her own growling stomach. “Okay, I’m off to return the tuxedo and find something else.”

Josie nodded and gave her a thumbs up. Y/N grabbed the tuxedo from the chair and made a mental note to text her aunt and tell her to take a cab from the airport, and she’d reimburse her. She could do that and finish the email in the car.

Y/N felt the scream growing in her chest once again as she faced the salesperson in the third store she’d been to.

The tuxedo was still in the trunk of her car, because she’d forgotten to get the receipt from Jason, so that would have to be a task for another day. Right now she was simply trying to find a suit that fit her father’s last wishes.

She tamped down her frustrations and smiled at the young guy in front of her. “Okay, so you don’t have anything in a navy suit in that size, but do you have anything that looks anything like this?” She lifted the picture again for him to see.

He just lifted a careless shoulder. “No, it’s just what we’ve got out on the floor.”

Y/N felt her voice cracking as she spoke. “Okay, you have another location across town, right? Is there any chance they have something like it?”

“I dunno.” The guy said unhelpfully.

Y/N knew her smile was starting to look like a grimace and she tried to change that before asking. “Would it be at all possible for you to check with them before I drive all the way over there?”

“K, yeah, hang on.” The guy sighed deeply and walked towards the back, presumably to make the call.

When he was out of sight Y/N began to suck in deep breaths and force her smile back onto her face. After a moment of practice she felt like she was managing it, when she heard someone set off the door chime as they walked in.

She turned to look and her jaw dropped. Jensen stood just inside the door and he smiled at her; his voice was soft.

“Hey baby.”

“Jensen.” Y/N whispered. It felt like she was hyperventilating as she spoke, completely out of breath.

“You came.” She said with wonder.

“You called.” He responded with a gentle smile and a shrug.

She blinked rapidly, desperate to keep her tears at bay. But Jensen walked up to her and tucked her hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

It was as though he’d pressed some sort of release valve and she was suddenly absolutely incapable of holding back her tears. They flooded her, and noisy sobs left her mouth; she had no way to stop them.

Jensen pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her and rubbing her back. “Shh, it’s okay, baby, it’s okay.” He said softly as he rocked her slightly in his arms.

She felt as though the scream that had been building for days, was slowly leaking out of her through her tears; she quickly soaked Jensen’s sweater. All the while, he just held her, making soothing noises and kissing the top of her head and her temple, letting her cry as long as she wanted.

As her tears began to dry up, she heard the sales guy come back through the door. “So, the other store says they don’t -” There was a brief pause and Y/N turned away from Jensen’s chest in time to see the guy’s eyes nearly pop out of his head.

“Holy shit!” He said, exploding with excitement, his skinny body practically vibrating. “You’re Soldier Boy. I got Soldier Boy in the friggin store!”

Jensen pulled Y/N into his side, tucking her safely under his left arm and reaching out to shake the guy’s hand with his right.

“Hi, nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

“H-Howie. I’m Howie.” He said, tripping over his words a bit.

Howie pulled his phone out of his pocket and raised it in front of him to snap a selfie that would include all three of them. Y/N turned her face into Jensen’s shoulder to avoid the camera. Jensen reached out and grabbed the phone away before Howie could snap the picture.

He handed it back with a smile. “Sorry Howie, but my friend here is going through a very rough time right now and I don’t think she’s in the mood for selfies.”

Howie frowned. “So, she doesn’t have to be in it.”

Y/N tried to pull away so she wasn’t in the picture, but Jensen tightened his grip and kept her flush against his side.

“No, I think she’s gonna stay right here. Do you have the suit she needs?”

Howie’s face was scrunched up into annoyance. “No.”

“Okay, thanks then.” Jensen said and headed for the door.

“Wow, you’re an asshole!” Howie shouted at him as they walked out the door.

As they stepped out onto the sidewalk Y/N shook her head. “Jensen, you could have just taken the picture, I would have stepped away from you.”

Jensen shook his head. “N’ah, I wanted to keep you next to me.”

Y/N looked up at him, still processing the fact that he was actually here. “Jensen, I can’t believe you came all the way from Australia. And you’re working, can you really afford the time away? And how did you know where to find me?”

Jensen waved dismissively. “I went to your parents' house, and Josie said you were out trying to get a suit for your Dad.” He shrugged. “There are only so many suit shops in this town, just so happens I found you in the second place I went.”

He smiled and shook his head. “As for work and the rest of it, don’t worry about that, it doesn’t matter.” He cupped her cheeks and kissed her forehead. “How are you holding up, sweetheart?”

Y/N shrugged. “Mostly okay, I guess. I mean, Dad was pretty sick for the last three months, and the doctors were never hopeful.”

She looked up at him guiltily. “Sorry I didn’t call you sooner. But I didn’t know if…I mean just, you know the way things…the way we left things, I didn’t know if…”

Jensen’s eyes were slightly shadowed, as he ducked his head and nodded. “No, I get it. But we don’t have to uh, we don’t need to talk about that right now. It’s not what’s important.” He straightened up and took a deep breath, and then smiled. “You need a suit for your Dad right?”

Y/N nodded. “Yes, he wanted it to look like this one.” She pulled the picture out of her purse and showed it to him. “But at this point, I’ll be happy to find any suit that will fit. You know, not a small guy, my dad.” She said with a fond smile.

“No, he sure wasn’t.” Jensen said with a smile. “Scared the shit outta me the first time I met him. But it was clear pretty quick that he was just a giant softy.”

“Yeah.” Y/N agreed with another tear falling which she dashed away quickly.

Jensen pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a picture of the old wedding photo and then dialed a number.

“Hang on.” He said, raising one finger as he stepped away. He spoke quietly with someone for a minute or two before returning to her side as he hung up.

“Okay, that’s done. I’ve got a friend who can get a suit just like that one.” He said, tapping the picture that Y/N still held. “I gave her your dad’s suit size, a 52" long, right?”

Y/N nodded and he continued. “Also the name of the funeral home. She’s gonna coordinate with them, and the suit will be there first thing tomorrow morning.”

He tucked his phone back into his pocket. “What’s next?”

Y/N shook her head, protesting. “No, Jensen, I’m sure you didn’t fly halfway across the world just to run errands.”

Jensen leveled a look directly at her. “Y/N, that is exactly why I flew here. Cause I know you.” He cupped her cheek gently. “I knew you’d be running around taking care of everything and everyone else, and forget about what YOU need.”

He shrugged. “You won’t take care of yourself, so I will.” His gaze was warm and it made Y/N think of how it felt to come in from the cold and feel warm and safe. He smiled. “So, what’s next?”

By the time the pizzas showed up at six thirty that evening, everything was finished. All the errands and chores on her to-do list had been crossed off. Thanks to Jensen.

He’d stepped in and taken over most of the list, consulting with her when he needed to, but mostly allowing her to just walk alongside him quietly as he got everything done.

It had caused a minor hullabaloo among her cousins when she showed up at the door with Dean Winchester in tow. They all knew she’d dated Jensen, but most of them had never gotten the chance to meet him.

But Josie had come through and mercifully saved them all from embarrassment by shooing away the cousins and giving Jensen a kiss on the cheek.

“Told Y/N you'd come.” She said with a side glance at her sister that said, “I told you so.”

Eventually everyone found a spot to sit and eat their pizza, either in the kitchen, dining room or living room. Conversations tended to center around her dad, funny stories, or heartwarming ones, and she was happy everyone was celebrating him exactly the way he would have wanted.

A few hours later, as people began thinking about bed, Y/N came back into the dining room where Jensen was sitting, and saw him frowning at his phone. His face cleared as she approached him.

“What’s up?” She asked.

He shook his head. “Oh, nothing.” Y/N gave him a look that said she could wait all night for the real answer and he laughed. “I was just trying to book a room, but it seems as though your one hotel and two bed and breakfasts are all full.”

Y/N gave him a sympathetic look. “Yeah, sorry. Ordinarily there’s not a whole lot of tourism in town. But right now, I think most of the rooms have been taken by people here for the funeral.” She shrugged and smiled. “Dad was well loved.”

Jensen reached out to squeeze her hand. “Yeah, he was.”

Y/N felt the warmth from his fingers travel up her arm and tingle across her skin. It was a pleasant feeling that she knew all too well, a kind of anticipation that always led to something more between them.

Jensen seemed to sense it too because he dropped her hand and stood up. He cleared his throat. “It’s no big deal. I can just drive into Kingston and find a room there.”

Y/N shook her head. “No, that's an hour and a half drive each way. Why waste the time? Just…just stay here. We’ve got room.”

Jensen gave an awkward chuckle and looked around the rooms packed with people. “Where? Under the porch?”

Y/N gave him a teasing smile. “Well, you scoff, but the raccoons gave it a very solid four stars.” They stood awkwardly for a minute more before she shook her head. “Seriously, though, I’m sure we can find one more bed to stash you in.”

Jensen agreed reluctantly, but as it turned out, finding an open space was tougher than it seemed. All the rooms were very much at capacity, and so were the couches. There was floor space down in the basement with the cousins, but Y/N knew they’d stay up most of the night playing video games which wasn’t exactly conducive to Jensen's sleep.

Finally she just shook her head and gave in to the idea that made her stomach twist but also squeeze tight and fill with butterflies. She put on her most nonchalant voice.

“You know what, this is dumb. Just stay in my room. It's just me in there right now, so I've got the space and you know. Not like we haven’t bunked together before, right?”

Y/N knew her choice of words was dumb. “Bunking” was not how she would describe her nights in bed with Jensen. Her mind was instantly filled with memories of him pressed tight against her body, the feel of him moving inside her, tracing his hands over every inch of her, making her burst to life with a mere flick of his tongue.

She thought maybe Jensen was experiencing the same memories, because his gaze was intense and heated before he snapped his head to the side, looking away from her. “That’s,” his voice was hoarse, “probably not…I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

Y/N nodded, though he wasn’t looking at her. Her cheeks flushed and she was quick to backtrack. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s a…you can just crash in the basement. The guys will be a bit noisy, but…just tell them to shut up if they get to be too much.” She forced a chuckle, and Jensen seemed to grab it like a lifeline, forcing a laugh too.

“Yeah, absolutely. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He clasped his hands together at waist height and rubbed his palms in circles, a tell that Y/N remembered meant that he was nervous. “I’ll just grab my bag from my car.”

He pointed vaguely towards the outside and Y/N nodded. “Yeah, okay. Then you can just head down and make yourself at home.”

They stood awkwardly for a minute more and then he leaned down to kiss her cheek. It was only a peck, but his lips were so soft and lush that it still made Y/N’s heart flutter.

He pulled back with a warm smile and an emotion in his gaze that she couldn’t interpret. “K, goodnight.” He said softly.

Y/N smiled back and tried to make it natural. “Goodnight. And, uh, just thanks. I mean, for everything today.”

Jensen shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

With a final squeeze to her hand he walked out to his car and Y/N practically ran up the stairs to her room.

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peakyswritings · 2 months ago

Text

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

PART XI

Summary: the situation complicates further as Tommy’s stay in Sicily nears its end. It’s time for conversations, and things that have been buried for too long are brought to the light.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), time-typical misogyny, references to past attempted assault, harassment, violence, angst, English is not my first language. This chapter is 18+, smut (I’m still not used to writing it but here we go). This is set between season 1 and 2.

Like in some previous chapters, some conversations are supposed to be in Italian but for obvious reasons I kept them in English.

A/N: sorry this is really long. I hope it makes up for the wait!

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dividers credits

Tommy’s proposal to Agnese had brought quite the hustle in the Ferrante’s property. A stream of relatives and friends had been coming to congratulate the new couple in the past few days, and people continuously came and went to make the arrangements for the wedding - or simply pry in the family business. And with the engagement party being held that night, it was impossible for Nina to step out of the house without bumping into some caterer or seamstress or, if she was particularly unlucky, some cantankerous old aunt who would stray away from her as if she were the Devil incarnated.

Her mood, which was already dark to begin with, had considerably worsened, forcing her to withdraw into isolation to avoid all possible conflict. She was easily irritated, she couldn’t stand her mother’s complaints, her father’s deceitfulness, her brothers’ haughtiness, and she couldn’t help herself from talking back or snapping when something bothered her. She could tell they were fed up with her insolence, that she was treading on thin ice, but she drew a twisted satisfaction from getting on their nerves. It was the only way she had to get back at them for the hell they were putting her through. Her role in the family, the impossibility of being something more than she was expected to be, the threat of a forced marriage with Stefano that was becoming less of a prospect and more of a certainty with each day that passed. And now that. Having to watch as the marriage between Tommy and Agnese took form, pretending with her cousin she was genuinely happy for her.

It was tearing her apart from the inside. At this point, Nina couldn’t wait for them to get married, so that Tommy would leave her house, her country, and set her free from the deep ache she felt every time he was near. It would be difficult, at first, but in time she’d forget about him, about the way he made her heart race, about how safe she felt in his arms.

“I’m going over to aunt Rita,” her mother hastily walked into the kitchen, holding a sewing box in her hands. “I’m helping her embroider the bedsheets for the trousseau.”

“Mhm.” Nina merely raised her eyes from the book she was pretending to read. Hearing about bedsheets and trousseaus was the last thing she needed in that moment, especially if it had to become yet another excuse to reproach her for not having the intention to get married anytime soon.

All of a sudden the book was soon snatched from her hands. When she raised her gaze, her mother was looking at her with a stern look on her face.

“Your friend has been invited to the party,” she said bitterly, as though the matter was somehow her daughter’s fault.

Nina’s heart fell to the pit of her stomach. It didn’t take a genius to understand who said friend was.

“The whole Spinietta family has been invited,” Maria went on, slamming the book on the table.

She swallowed harshly, the implications of that gesture rapidly sinking in. “Are you serious?”

“I warned you,” her mother pointed a finger at her. “If you had listened to me, maybe it would’ve been Angelo, not him.”

Nina rolled her eyes. Again with her friend’s son. What did she want, to put a death sentence on the poor man? She grabbed the cup of tea that had grown cold in front of her, and got up to pour its content in the sink.

“Did I tell you he’s a teacher?” Maria started again. “I bet he acts all intellectual just like you.”

“If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll intellectualise away from me. Unless he wants to get on the Spiniettas’ bad side, that is. Or dad’s.” She started to aggressively scrub the cup, taking out her anger on the fragile item. “And who says he’d be interested in me anyway?”

Her mother looked at her as if a second nose had grown on her face. Despite her unusual behaviour, Nina carried herself well, looked nice, had an education that most girls could only dream of. Her Italian was outstandingly clean, almost devoid of dialectal influences, and clear. Her brain worked incessantly, she had complex thoughts, and it was often difficult to keep up with her. Not to mention how she managed to give even men twice her age a hard time with the sole power of her words.

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Maybe he’d find me ugly,” Nina shrugged, “or stupid.”

“You’re my daughter, you can’t be ugly or stupid.”

Nina let out a sigh, drying her hands on a towel. There was no point in arguing. In those situations, it was better to let her mum vent until she got tired of talking with a stone wall and gave up.

Maria dropped the sewing box on the table with a thud. Once she had her daughter’s attention back in her, she started speaking again, a grave expression on her face. “I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in. If your father says yes to Stefano, then he won’t be able to say no anymore,” she said lowly. “You need to act before he says yes.”

“He can’t force me.”

If her father really decided to go through with it, she’d drop the bomb on him that she wasn’t a virgin anymore. Maybe she could do it in front of Stefano, for the pleasure of watching his smug grin disappear from his face. Would she be irremediably deemed as a whore? Yes. Would she bring shame upon her whole family? Absolutely. It would still be better than being Spinietta’s wife.

“You can’t change my mind on this, mum,” she concluded in a tone that didn’t leave any room for discussion.

Her didn’t mother didn’t reply, but the disapproval was clear on her face.

“You know what?” Maria picked up the box from the table again and put it under her arm with a nervous gesture. “I don’t care. Do what you want,” she said sharply, leaving the kitchen.

As soon as she heard the front door closing, Nina exhaled deeply. That was another issue she’d have to deal with, apparently. She wasn’t sure her mother would give up so easily, and she was scared she’d try to act behind her back like her father was.

Her father. Her blood boiled in her veins as her mind went back to the reason why the argument she had just gotten out of had started in the first place. It was time to talk to him, to make it clear that she would never accept to marry that bastard, that she didn’t need time to decide cause she had already made up her mind. The sooner they had that conversation, the sooner all that would end. Hopefully.

Animated by a fiery resolution, Nina strode through the house with large, quick steps. She didn’t pay attention to her brothers, who were heading to the kitchen to have breakfast, nor to Tommy, who was waiting in the large hallway for her father to let him in, and was now looking at her with a puzzled look on his face.

She stormed in her father office, slamming the door behind her. He raised his head from the papers he was signing, looking at her questioningly, but not without a hint of reproach for bursting into his private room without even knocking.

“What does this mean?” Her voice came out more high-pitched than she intended. She stopped in front of the dark wooden desk, forcing him to pay attention to her.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Her father leaned back in his chair, rolling his cigar between his fingers, keeping his oblivious facade. A new wave of rage ran through Nina, but she was careful to contain it. “You invited the Spinietta family to the engagement party,” she explained through gritted teeth.

Unimpressed by her accusations, he stubbed out his cigar, then folded is hands on his lap. “The Spiniettas are close friends of ours,” he said calmly.

“Right,” she let out a humourless laugh. “You became pretty close over the last month.”

“Business is growing.”

“Ah,” she nodded, raising her eyebrows. “Business.”

Her father clenched his jaw, and from the way his shoulders had stiffened she could tell he knew exactly where the conversation was going. And that he didn’t like her mocking tone.

“Is there a problem, Nina?”

“You tell me. Is there something going on that could be a problem for me?”

She wanted to hear it from him. She wanted him to admit it out loud. She was tired of being treated like she was crazy, like she was imagining things. She wanted honesty.

Vincenzo pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as if hit by a sudden headache. “I need to talk to Mr Shelby, can we-”

“You’re talking to me,” Nina said firmly, raising her voice.

Her father straightened his back, leaning with his elbows on the wooden surface in front of him. He fixed his gaze on her, his features hardening with austerity. “Mind how you speak to me, I’m your father,” he warned her.

“So I should stay quiet while you make decisions about my life,” she spat out. The way he was trying to impose his authority on her just because he had no arguments to defend himself made her stomach churn.

“I’m not making decisions.”

“You are,” she slammed a hand on the the desk. “Do you really think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

Her father reached his hand out, keeping his voice still low. “Calm down.”

“I will not calm down!”

Ferrante took a deep breath, raising from his chair to properly speak to his daughter. If there was one thing he didn’t tolerate, it was disrespect, but getting angry wouldn’t work, not now, at least. It would only make Nina more stubborn. If he wanted her to listen to him, he needed to get his point across nicely.

“What do you want to do with your life?” he asked her, apparently changing the subject.

Nina furrowed her brows, taken aback by his question. She could sense he was trying to direct the conversation somewhere, and she was quick to pull herself together.

“I want to study,” she said steadily.

“You’ve finished school,” he countered.

“There’s university.”

“Women don’t go to university.”

Nina squinted her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Then I want to work.”

“Poor women need to work. Do you want to ruin your hands in a factory?”

A glimpse of irony flashed across his face. Once again, his purpose seemed to be to make her feel stupid, or naive, like she had no idea how the world worked. The thing was, he was right, to some extent. Nina had little experience, she didn’t know everything. But there were things she knew, things she didn’t like, and she wasn’t going to accept them just because that was how life was.

Vincenzo walked around his desk to approach her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, his expression softening. “I’m only worried about you,” he said. “About what your life will be like if you go on like this.”

“It’s my life, dad,” she whispered, feeling the tears well up in her eyes against her will. “Maybe you’re right, and I’m ruining myself with my own hands. But the choice is mine to make.”

Despite everything, she thought she could make him understand. There had to be a way to get through him, to make him see, she didn’t want to ruin the bond they had always had. Because she would make her own decisions either way, and she wished for him to support her. She needed him to support her.

“You’re my daughter. I can’t stand back and watch you do that to yourself,” he shook her slightly. “Let go of these fantasies, Nina. Real life is something else.”

Of course. How stupid of her to imagine that he could even try to understand. She shrugged his hands off, forcing back her tears. “You’re wrong.”

Her father nodded to himself, taking a step back. “We’ll see,” he simply said. “As for Stefano, I told you already. The choice is up to you, I’m not forcing you to do anything,” he reassured her, but his condescending tone had the opposite effect.

“You’re not forcing me to do anything, but that son of a bitch is always around.”

“Language.”

Nina scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. He didn’t see the point. He didn’t want to see the point. He only cared about business, about power. Why was she wasting her time?

She made her way towards the door, but she stopped in her tracks when her hand grabbed the handle. After a moment of hesitation, she spoke again, but she didn’t around to look at him.

“You’re making a mistake.”

Tommy watched as Nina strode out of Ferrante’s study with a face like thunder. He had heard the screams, but he hadn’t been able to make out what the fuss was about, the long sequence of Italian sentences unfamiliar to him.

Those kinds of arguments had happened frequently, over the last three days. Nina had become unmanageable - not that she had ever been the manageable type. But she had gotten worse. If someone so much as glanced at her the wrong way or said one word too many, she’d turn it into an excuse to fight. She was sensitive, and snappish, and she seemed to have lost the ability to put on her mask of coolness and indifference. As a way to heal his wounded ego, which still burned from the things she had said to him, he told himself it was a good thing she had rejected him. If she had the gall to talk back to her father like that, there was no doubt she’d act even worse with her husband, and he had enough headaches already. And for sure, he would’ve never wanted to be at the receiving hand of her temper.

Nina stopped in front of him, recollecting herself, and Tommy couldn’t not notice she radiated the same frigidity as when they had met for the first time. “My father wants to see you, Mr Shelby,” she said coldly.

Ah, now she called him Mr Shelby. As if she hadn’t been whimpering his name in his ear a few nights before.

“I think we’re way past the formalities, sweetheart.”

His remark was enough to make her falter. She blinked up at him, shocked by his bluntness.

“Way past,” he repeated, raising his eyebrows.

“Will you lower your voice?” she hissed, taking a look around to make sure no one was near.

Tommy held back a smirk at her flustered state. Her usual frown had deepened, and a tinge of red had crept up her cheeks. Had the situation between them been different, he would’ve gladly went on. He had to remind himself he wasn’t in the position to tease her anymore. Nina had said it very clearly, she didn’t care about him. What had happened between them had been a mistake, she regretted it. She regretted him.

Then why were her eyes telling a different story?

Nina huffed, tucking a rebel strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s waiting for you,” she murmured.

Her arm brushed against his as she walked past him, sending a spark of electricity through his whole body. Leaving him wondering when he had gotten to the point where the slightest contact threatened to make his self-control crumble.

Nina examined her figure in the mirror, a niggling uneasiness taking over her. She wasn’t used to doll herself up like that. She had put on a beautiful dress for the occasion, done her makeup, managed to tame her long hair, and she had half-hoped she would be happy with the result once she was done. However, in her silk dress, in her makeup, with her hair away from her face, Nina felt like a fraud. Ridiculous, even.

She had always been the ugly duckling of the brood. When her cousins had started to bloom into beautiful women, she was still all elbows and knees, drawing the petty comments of her aunts, poorly hidden behind harmless jokes. She remembered all too well the embarrassment she felt every time they pointed out her flat chest, joking about how if she cut her hair she could be mistaken for a boy. She was ashamed to admit that even though she wasn’t that gawky kid anymore, those words had stuck with her. She tried to convince herself she didn’t care about being pretty, that her mind was her primary concern, but the truth was, sometimes she wanted to feel pretty.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself and just pretend, she told herself, straightening her back. It was a little exercise she had trained herself to do over the years. Head high, impassive face, don’t let them get to you, act like you know exactly what you want, walk like you know exactly where you’re going. It worked, most of the times. Maybe if she pretended long enough one day she’d be able to convince herself as well.

Once ready, she crossed the upstairs floor of the house, reaching the separate corridor in which her parents’ bedroom was located. Her mother was standing in front of a full-length mirror, fixing some pins in her hair. Nina leaned against the doorframe, and allowed herself to stay in her company for a while.

Out of the comfortable clothes she used to wear, out of the kitchen, out of the restraints of her role as a wife and a mother doomed to annihilate herself, she looked years younger. The dress she was wearing was modest, elegant, and the dark blue shade perfectly complimented her complexion. The shadow of a rare genuine smile grew on her face as she put on her pearl earrings, mixed with an emotion Nina couldn’t quite recognise. She could almost swear there were tears in her eyes. Nina realised she didn’t even remember the last time she had seen her mother taking care of her appearance like that, and that finally having the chance to do it must be a source of melancholy as well as joy. Was that what a life dedicated to the care of a whole family had done to her? Had she forgotten herself to that degree?

“What are you looking at?” Maria asked gruffly, glancing at her daughter through the mirror.

How sweet. Nina pursed her lips to hide a sly grin, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Nothing.”

Her mother frowned, smoothing down her dress, then she turned around to face her. She looked at the ground for a moment, then back at Nina, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. “How do I look?”

A pang of sorrow spread in Nina’s chest at the thought that her mother might feel anything else but beautiful. “Stunning, mum,” she said truthfully.

“Is this too much?”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s perfect.”

The older woman turned to the mirror again, her features softening. “Go downstairs, tell your father I’m almost ready.”

Reluctantly, Nina mustered up the courage to get out of her hiding, mechanical step after mechanical step, like a man facing the gallows. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to feel her relatives’ judgmental stares on her. She didn’t want to see Stefano. She didn’t want to watch Tommy and Agnese be officially presented as a couple. Husband and wife. It made her feel sick. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Tommy standing on top of the staircase, checking the time on his pocket watch, handsome in his formal attire.

His head shot up upon hearing the sound of her footsteps, and for a while it felt like the whole world had stopped turning just for him to have that moment. That moment to look at her, to take in the sight of her in her long, light blue dress that enhanced her tanned skin; with her ebony hair pinned up, exposing her delicate neck and cleavage, instead of hiding her as usual.

“You…” Tommy’s breath hitched in his throat, his mouth dry. You’re beautiful.

He didn’t dare say it.

“Hi,” Nina murmured, fidgeting with her own fingers. She had no idea of what to do or say. Standing there and staring at him like an idiot was clearly not an option, so she decided to approach the stairs. But one look at the long series of steps was enough for her to understand that there was no way she could descend it in her heels without making a fool of herself. Had she been alone, she would’ve gripped the railing like her life depended on it and ungracefully stomped her way down.

As if he had read her mind, Tommy offered her his arm without uttering a single word. He limited himself to peering at her, his gaze indecipherable, intense. Nina accepted his help, trying not to think about how natural it felt to have her hand in the crook of his elbow as they climbed down the stairs. Her legs were shaking, probably not because of the shoes, and she just hoped she wouldn’t trip over her feet and ruinously fall on her face. When she walked down the last step, she realised she had been holding her breath the whole time.

“Thank you,” she whispered, letting go of his arm.

Tommy nodded, taking a step back.

He needed a drink - or possibly two or three - to give him the strength to get through the night. Now more than ever he felt like he was putting handcuffs around his wrists rather than a ring on his finger. He had been telling himself that everything was going reasonably well, that following the plan which had been made over a month before was the best thing to do. He was going to marry the woman they had chosen for him, a beautiful woman, who would make him look good. Agnese was sweet, and gentle. She would take care of the house, of him, give him children. He would have a good life with her. She would bring him peace, turn his house into a safe place away from the wickedness of his business.

Nina would’ve brought him the storm. With her, a life of confrontation, of compromise, maybe even conflict would’ve awaited him. He would’ve had to answer to her, to accept her sharp edges and the sides of her that weren’t easy to deal with.

No, he was lying to himself. Confrontation, compromise, conflict had been his daily bread since he was a kid. His restless nature had never cared for peace. His skin was thick enough not to get cut on her edges. And pain had never scared him anyway. But that didn’t matter. The wedding would be in two weeks, then he would leave that place behind. Leave Nina behind. He’d forget about her like he had forgotten about Grace. He had done it once, he could do it again. Even if he’d prefer to rip his heart out of his chest.

For the engagement party, Agnese’s family had chosen to celebrate in the garden that surrounded the two houses. Everything had been planned with the outmost care: there were tables, flowers, candles, waiters balancing trays of champagne, musicians playing mesmerising tunes. A whole team of chefs had been hired for the delicious dinner. Nina had been pleased to find out that she wouldn’t have to share the table with Stefano, this time, who had sat with his family and other guests far away from her. Nevertheless, she had barely touched her food. Her stomach was still twisted from the events of the day. Now she was standing aside, watching as some couples gathered to dance. Including Tommy and Agnese.

They were both beautiful. Exceptionally so. Agnese was radiant in her ivory dress, she glowed with the happiness of a girl who was about to see all her dreams come true. Tommy held her in his arms with great gentleness as they swayed to the rhythm, and despite the vicious bites of jealousy, Nina was unable to look away. He’d fall in love with Agnese, of that she was sure. Her cousin was stunning, and sweet, and caring, all things Nina was not. Tommy would fall in love with Agnese and realise how blind he had been for ever setting his eyes on someone like her.

A tall figure came to stand by her side, and she was engulfed by the smell of a strong cologne mixed with cigar smoke. The man exuded an aura of power, dominance, along with a calm that was nothing more than a cover for something far more dangerous, unpredictable. Vito Spinietta. Her body tensed, and she instinctively crossed her arms over her chest. Sending him a sideways glance, she was met with his calculating gaze. He was inspecting her, assessing her, searching for any weak point as though he could read into her.

“Good evening,” he said, not taking his eyes off her.

“Good evening.”

A heavy silence followed. Nina wasn’t a fool, she was aware that if Stefano’s brother had taken the trouble to go speak to her it wasn’t to make small talk. The heir to the Spinietta empire was too practical a man to waste his time on pleasantries, and certainly wasn’t there for the pleasure of her company.

“I know there’s no point beating around the bush with you,” he said, confirming her suspicions. “So I’ll be direct. I’m here on behalf of my brother.”

Nina tilted her head in amusement. Had it really become a family matter? Had a no on her part caused such commotion?

“Stefano’s a good guy,” he announced solemnly. “It’s just that sometimes he acts the wrong way.”

Nina had to hold back a dismissive laugh at his statement. A good guy. It was almost as pathetic as the excuse he had made up for his behaviour.

“What am I supposed to do with this information?”

“He cares about you.”

“So you’ve taken it upon yourself to play Cupid,” she said bitterly, with a little edge of sarcasm, earning herself a stern look. “It doesn’t suit you,” she shook her head, mocking him behind an expression that was meant to feign innocent honesty.

Vito raised his chin, reacting with silence to her insolent replies. “It would be good to unite the families, considering the circumstances,” he said instead. “And a rejection could be seen as…” he paused, searching her face. “An offence.”

His words had Nina knitting her eyebrows in a frown. He had pronounced them in an ambiguous, vague way, but she hadn’t missed the gloomy undertone. “Is this a threat?”

“What do you take me for?” he asked, clearly just pretending to be offended. “I’d never threaten a woman.”

He was playing the card of the man of honour. As if he and his brother hadn’t done even worse to the girls of the town. She had to say something now. Too long had she let Stefano scare her, she wouldn’t make the same mistake with Vito. The Spiniettas weren’t the only ones who got power, she came from a tough family as well, and she would no longer forget who she was.

“Listen,” she started, turning to properly look at him. “I’m not scared of you, or your brother, or your threats.”

Vito clenched his jaw, his mouth twisting into a grimace.

Nina took a step towards him, further decreasing the already short distance between them. “You two think you can do as you please because I am a woman?” she narrowed her eyes. “Think again. Cause one word from me and you’ll see your whole organisation fall around your ears.”

“Is this a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

Nina wanted to see his mask slip. She wanted him to reveal himself, like Stefano had revealed himself not so long ago, when he had put his hands on her in her own house. She wanted him to give her a reason to draw her knife on him, there, in front of everyone. But Vito wasn’t Stefano. It would take a lot more to make him lose his composure.

Vito took a step back, observing her. He could see why his brother was so adamant on having her. Stefano had always loved a good challenge. He didn’t want someone obedient by nature, someone who would listen to his every command. He wanted someone difficult, someone he could take his time to bend. Or break. It would’ve taken way more than a few slaps to break that one.

Their conversation came to an end when Stefano walked up to Nina, holding out his hand to her. “Wanna dance?”

Nina took a look around. Her situation hadn’t gone unnoticed: most of the guests had been peering at her and Vito, trying to figure out what was going on, and now that Stefano had entered the picture, they were sending them subtle glances, waiting to see if Nina would’ve accepted his invitation. Her first instinct was to say no, but leaving him there in front of everyone would cause quite the stir, and surely take the attention away from the new couple. That was Agnese’s night, and she didn’t have the right to ruin it for her. Not after what she had already done. So she placed her hand in his, and unwillingly let him lead her to the dance floor.

His hand was light on her waist as he lead the dance, yet that contact felt heavy, violent. It made her skin crawl. She focused on the ground behind his shoulders, trying to ignore the weight of people’s stares on them. She was afraid to raise her head and find out Tommy was watching too.

It didn’t take her long to detach herself from her surroundings. She didn’t hear the music, she didn’t see the couples dancing around them, she was only uncomfortably aware of Stefano’s proximity, of the heat of his body, of the burning marks his hands seemed to leave into her flesh. He had the predatory eyes of a raptor as he scrutinised the uncovered parts of her body, taking on the appearance of a beast waiting for the right moment to bite.

“I love you, Nina,” he whispered in her ear, his tone pleading. “I want to make you happy. I want to give you everything.”

Nina could read it on his face. He did think he loved her, he was truly convinced that his sick obsession was love. It’s wasn’t merely a matter of wounded ego, he was sincerely hurt in his own, twisted way. And that was something that could potentially make him even more dangerous. A shiver ran down her spine, but she forced herself not to shy away, and she let him speak without interrupting him.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes with you, and I want to fix them. Let me make it right.” His arm tightened around her as he brought her even closer. “I can be good to you.” There was desperation now in his voice. Nina tried to put some distance between them, but he didn’t let her. “I can be good to you, and you can be good to me. I’ll teach you how to be good to me.” His fingers curled around her hand in a painful grip. “Think about what we could be together. Say yes.”

Nina squeezed her eyes, overwhelmed by his insistent touch, his urgent words; disgusted by the image of them living in the same house that had forced itself into her mind; repulsed by his eagerness to mould her.

The music ended, bringing them back to reality. Nina was relieved to be able to pull away from Stefano, whose grip had finally loosened. He was out of his mind if he thought she could ever forget what he had done to her. A wave of rage ran through her, but she was careful not to let it show. Straightening her back, she looked him dead in the eyes, and just one word left her mouth.

“No.”

Stefano’s face fell, disappointment and anger battling in his irises, and his fist clenched by his side. However, Nina didn’t stay there to wait for a reaction. She turned on her heels and walked away from him, from the dance floor, from the crowd of nosy guests. Her inner turmoil grew with every step, and her state of panic was such that she didn’t even realise she had entered her house. With an irritated huff, she hastily fumbled with her impractical shoes and left them at the entrance, then sought refuge in her bedroom.

She took some deep breaths, rubbing her face. It felt like the more she tried to fix things, the more she made them worse, and there was no way out of that endless cycle. What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to act? Who was she supposed to beg to drag her out of that situation? Because it was becoming clearer and clearer that she wouldn’t be able to make it by herself. When had things taken that turn? Had there been a mistake, a single, fateful mistake she had made that had caused all of that? Or was it someone else’s fault? Or was it no one’s fault?

Too many questions, not enough answers. Racking her brains to find a pattern, to put order to the events was useless. They were too tangled, too intricate. It hadn’t started when she had made love with Tommy, nor when he had kissed her, nor when he had appeared in her life. It hadn’t even started when she had pointed a knife at Stefano’s throat, nor when she had let him get close to her all those years ago at school. Had it started, perhaps, when she had insisted on studying? Was it her punishment for wanting more than she could have? More questions, still no answers. The worst thing was, she couldn’t see a way out.

There was a soft knocking on the open door, and when Nina turned around Tommy was there. He looked exhausted, as if the evening had drained him of all his energy. It was unusual to see him like that, he wasn’t the kind of man who let his distress show. For the first time, she realised how much the whole marriage situation had taken a toll on him.

If the reasonable part of her wanted him to leave, the other - the one she seemingly had no control over - needed him close to her. It was absurd how reassuring his presence felt. Maybe that was what had drawn her to him in the first place. When everything around her was swirling, when there was nothing certain or reliable, Tommy was stable, solid. Something to hold on to.

Nina forced those thoughts away. She was losing her mind. Tommy was the least stable thing in her life. He wasn’t there to stay, he would leave in two weeks time and she would never see him again, except for a few occasions, like Christmas or maybe weddings. Indulging in that kind of fantasy would only make things harder.

“Is this your plan?” Tommy suddenly asked, a hint of accusation leaking out of his neutral tone. “Say yes to Spinietta?”

Nina felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over her, and her musings disappeared to give way to pure surprise. “What?” she asked in disbelief, widening her eyes.

“You heard me.”

“That’s ridiculous, I’d never do that.”

“Is that why you were dancing with him?” he raised his eyebrows, pointing at the door with his finger, as if Stefano were outside the room.

Nina shook her head, still not believing they were actually having that conversation. “You shouldn’t mix whiskey with champagne,” she said dryly, her voice coming out harsher than she had intended. But Tommy didn’t seem fazed by it.

“You looked rather intimate,” he noted with a touch of contempt, too upset to realise how preposterous his assumptions sounded.

Nina’s mouth fell agape. She hadn’t missed the inflection in his voice. Was he… jealous? She squinted her eyes, taking a step towards him. “What’s this?” she inquired.

Her question seemed to catch him off guard. He wavered, and an emotion difficult to define flashed across his features. It was more than simply pain. It was like all the resentment Tommy had harboured since that fateful afternoon was flowing out, inexorable, making him unable to think with a clear mind. Biting back was the only way he had to protect the feelings he had foolishly let show. Guilt ate at her stomach at the sight, and she had to remind herself she had done what she had done for him, before anyone else.

As if finally coming back to himself, Tommy clenched his jaw, and took on his usual, impassive expression. “I can’t believe you,” he murmured. “After everything he’s done to you.”

Nina nervously fidgeted with her fingers, not knowing how to make him see that he couldn’t be more wrong. Did he think so little of her? “I’m not..” she trailed off, torn between her sense of guilt and her pride. The latter took the upper hand. She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “You have no right to lecture me.”

“True,” he nodded. “I have no right. Cause what happened between us was a mistake and you don’t care about me.”

That was the point. That had always been the point. Tommy thought she had cruelly played him, maybe even used him, just to discard him when she didn’t want him anymore. She exhaled deeply, not meeting his eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s not like that,” he let out a humourless chuckle. “You said it, you’re taking it back now?”

“Stop it.”

“Eh?” Tommy’s voice raised, overlapping hers. “Are you taking it back?”

“I said stop.”

“You said-”

“I lied!” she snapped.

A tense silence fell in the room. Tommy blinked, and all the bitterness faded from his features. “Wha… what?” he stuttered, a confused frown forming on his face.

Nina didn’t regret her admission. She was so tired of pretending, of lying, of hurting him, and saying it out loud lifted a weight off her shoulders.

“I lied,” she repeated, more softly. “I never meant to hurt you. I…” her voice cracked. “I did it to protect you. To protect both of us.” There was no going back now. Her walls had been breached, and the words she had fought hard to keep to herself were leaving her lips before she had the chance to measure them. “Do you have any idea how much we’re risking? I’m risking? We talked about it, I told you how these things work.”

Tentatively, Tommy broke the distance between them, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up. “Is this what you’re scared of?” he asked incredulous, searching her face frantically, his frown deepening. “I’d never let anything bad happen to you. I’d never let anyone lay a fucking finger on you. You hear me?”

Nina believed him. He would stand between her and harm’s way without a second thought. But that was the problem. She took his hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over it before pulling it away from her face. “And what about you?”

“What?”

“Do you really think you could’ve changed your mind? That they would let you, at that point? You made your decision when you started courting Agnese.”

“Maybe they would’ve understood-”

“No. Her father would’ve wanted your head for humiliating his daughter. The deal would’ve been off and you would’ve been six feet underground in a matter of hours.”

And I’d never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you because of me, she wanted to add.

Tommy didn’t reply, but the pain in his eyes spoke for him. He knew she was right.

Nina gently stroked his cheek. “We never had a chance,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m not worth starting a war over.”

Tommy squeezed his eyelids, shaking his head as if to chase that unbearable thought away. Then, impetuously, he kicked the door shut and crushed his lips against hers. The force of the kiss knocked Nina’s breath out of her lungs, but she was quick to wrap her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies together.

Tommy backed her towards the dresser behind her, then he hoisted her up in his strong arms and sat her on it. A groan left his lips when Nina hooked a leg around him, bringing him even closer. His hands roamed down to her hips, gripping, squeezing, his tongue exploring her sweet mouth. He relished her warmth, her scent, her soft hands caressing his face, trying to imprint every little feeling into his memory. He wanted her, in the most raw, primal way. Because it was the only way he had to have her. Or at least, to delude himself he did. She was like water in his hands, she slipped through his fingers again and again, never letting him hold her, never letting him keep her. But with his fingers digging in her skin, she almost seemed real.

Pulling away to catch his breath, Tommy dropped his forehead into her neck, grabbing her waist. “You’re killing me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You’re fucking killing me.”

Tears began to stream down Nina’s cheeks. She felt like the worst person alive. She was causing so much pain, to him, to herself. She gently stroked the back of his head, sniffling. “You should go,” she compelled herself to say, although in that moment she wanted nothing more than for him to stay. “They’ll notice your absence.”

“They’re all drunk, they won’t,” he contradicted her.

“Agnese will.”

“She’s with her sisters.”

“But-”

Tommy’s head shot up to look at her, silencing her with his icy glare. “Fuck them,” he husked, wiping away her tears.

Fuck them.

Their mouths collided again. Blood rushed through Nina’s veins as Tommy kissed her hungrily. She could feel him everywhere, she was completely enveloped by him, by his smell of soap, whiskey and cigarettes, by the feeling of his rough hands, and yet she wanted more. She wanted to crumble and be brought into a new existence, to melt in his arms and become one heart, one body, one soul.

They only parted so she could help Tommy get free of his jacket. He was back on her right away, leaving a trail of kisses from her neck down to her chest, his teeth grazing the soft skin from time to time, making goosebumps ripple down her skin. He impatiently lifted her dress, fingers brushing against her smooth legs. More free to move, Nina allowed him more space, and her insides clenched with desire when she felt the bulge in his trousers against her.

Tommy’s hand ghosted over her clothed sex, making her squirm in anticipation. “Tommy,” she moaned, urging him to touch her where she needed the most. Pushing her underwear to the side, he slid two digits into her wet entrance, coaxing a sinful, beautiful sound out of her lips. Nina held onto his shoulders as he started to move his fingers, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Look at me,” Tommy commanded, cupping her chin with his free hand. Her eyelids fluttered open, showing him her glossy eyes filled with pleasure, causing his cock to painfully twitch.

He pumped his fingers in and out of her, working her open, eliciting small gasps from her that threatened to make him lose his mind. His thumb went to stroke her clit, the unexpected motion making her yelp.

Fuck, she was so beautiful.

“Tommy, please…” she whispered, clutching the soft material of his shirt. “I need you.”

She didn’t need to say it twice. Wasting no time, Tommy slid his fingers out of her to get rid of her knickers, discarding them somewhere on the floor, then fumbled with his trousers, finally freeing himself from all restraints. He grabbed Nina’s thighs, pulling her closer to the edge of the dresser so he could position himself between her folds, then he entered her with one swift thrust, burying himself inside of her. Nina hid her face in his shoulder, one hand coming to cup the nape of his neck, the other clutching the fabric of his shirt. Tommy began to rock his hips, firmly yet slowly, giving her the time to adjust to the feeling of him stretching her walls.

Nina clung onto him as if he could shield her from the unknown, as if he were a shelter, a place where she could forget, even for a moment, the uncertain future that awaited her. A future she tried to escape from, but the more she ran, the more she found it on her heels, ready to catch her, to drag her into the darkness that had been threatening her for years.

Tommy’s pace quickened, becoming more desperate, almost brutal, arms wrapped around her waist, bringing every inch of their bodies together. Nina was surprised to find that was exactly what she needed in that moment. It kept her anchored to him and only him.

“You feel so good,” Tommy growled, digging his fingers in her flesh, and her cheeks burned at his words.

He set a merciless rhythm, pounding into her with sharp thrusts. Nina barely recognised the sounds that were coming out of her, but she was too lost in her pleasure to be worried about them. Breath hitched in her throat when he reached a particular spot that made her see stars, and he hit it again and again, drawing shaky whimpers out of her. With each minute that passed she felt closer and closer to her release, and Tommy must’ve been aware of that too. She let out a strangled noise when he brought a finger to her swollen clit, the fire in her abdomen too much to bear.

“C’mon, love,” he rasped. “Cum for me.”

He drew small circles on her sensitive bud, pushing her over the edge. Her walls fluttered around his cock, shockwaves gripping her body as she came undone. Tommy kept on thrusting into her, hips ruthlessly snapping as he chased his climax, until with a last, powerful thrust, he emptied himself inside of her, grunting in her ear.

For a while, neither of them moved. They stayed in each other’s embrace, panting, savouring that ephemeral semblance of peace. Nina nuzzled her cheek against his, the comforting scent of his aftershave filling her nostrils. Neither of them seemed to intend to let go first.

God, she didn’t want to let him go. Before she could control them, tears filled Nina’s eyes again, and she tried her best to prevent them from falling. Why did it have to be so hard? Why did she have to fall for the one man she could never have? Why did her happiness have to cause so much damage? The most irrational part of it was that despite all of that, being in his arms felt like the rightest thing in the world. They perfectly moulded together like they had been created just fit into each other’s arms, to fill each other’s voids. Nothing she had ever felt could compare to it.

Eventually, they moved apart. They fixed their clothes in silence, pulling themselves together as best they could. Not that Nina cared at all. There was no way she was going back to the party. No one would notice anyway.

“Go,” she whispered, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen on his forehead. “They must be looking for you.”

Tommy gently cradled the back of her head, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll come to you later,” he promised.

Nina nodded, forcing herself to smile. But tears started flowing as soon as she watched him walk out the door.

NEXT CHAPTER

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look-at-the-soul · 8 months ago

Text

Every little thing you do- Part 5

Tommy Shelby x reader

Series master list

I changed slightly what I already had written after reading someone’s comment on the previous part 🤭 I always love reading what you think, sometimes it even sparks an idea or two… 🥰

Word count: 3,213

Y/N walked excitedly through the Shelby Company headquarters. She was granted with the permission to open the Shelby Institute, it was incredible how much Tommy’s contacts helped her speed up the process. Now she’d need to interview and recruit teachers, cleaning personnel, a couple of secretaries and enroll the children for the upcoming school year.

But as she got closer, Tommy’s shouting became clearer.

“Don’t fucking try to trick me, Lizzie.” He warned.

Then Y/N flinched when Lizzie raised her voice. “What’s your fucking problem then? If I sleep with Angel, his father or his cousin it’s none of your business!”

“Of course it’s my business!” He exploded. Anger raising at the thought the Changrettas getting sensitive information from his secretary, Lizzie had a big mouth when she wanted to. In more ways than one. “How much is Changretta paying you?”

“So you can choose who I sleep with,” Lizzie spat, “but you are covering Y/N’s pregnancy and treating her as if she was a Shelby!”

She was now able to understand all the secrecy around Tommy’s confident, why suddenly everyone wanted to make sure she was alright, why she was around more frequently. The thought of Y/N fulfilling all the dreams that belonged to her, made Lizzie go mad.

What was happening with the Changretta family? Y/N wondered as she overheard the heated exchange coming from Tommy’s office. The last thing she knew about them was when Danny Whizzbang was falsely killed in front of the Italians. But that was a few years back.

“I know her parents kicked her out.” Y/N heard Lizzie again. “What? You thought I wouldn’t find out? So now you’re pretending to be the perfect little family?”

That’s why Scott disappeared overnight. Lizzie wondered for how long they’ve been fooling everyone.

“Since when do I have to give you explanations, ey? You’re not answering me! What have you told Angel about us?” His hands shook her shoulders abruptly.

“Oh please! Don’t give yourself that much importance, the last thing we do is talk about you. And you don’t have the right to question my decisions, when you’re supporting Y/N and her bastard.”

That last statement was enough for Y/N to feel her blood boiling.

“Repeat that in my face. I dare you.” She opened the door with such force that it slammed against the wall behind. Lizzie paled.

Tommy recognized that look, he barely had time to react and intercepted Y/N midway.

“Y/N calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Y/N shouted, if it wasn’t for Tommy she would’ve already slapped Lizzie. “I’m tired of this, everybody thinks they can call my child bastard just because I’m not married.” She had to bite her tongue to stop her from telling a truth or two to Lizzie. She rarely got angry but once she did, there was no going back.

“Lizzie get out, I don’t want to see you.” Tommy barked as he tried to help Y/N to sit down. Then he realized they had an audience outside his office. “What are y’all doing there?! Go back to work!”

Once he had her settled on the couch, he offered Y/N a glass of water.

“Don’t let her words sink in. It’s bullshit.” He tried, but Y/N was still altered.

“She from all of the people, dares to point her finger at me.” Y/N said sarcastically and rolled her eyes. “And just because I thought Scott was-” she trailed off.

“You’re much better without him, you know that right?” Tommy crouched down, to be at her level.

“Will this ever stop?” Y/N’s voice cracked by the end, emotions at its highest.

“I’ll shoot anyone who dares to say anything like that again.”

His hands tried to calm her trembling fingers. His words managed to earn a small smirk from her, Tommy’s words managed to make her feel better momentarily. But she couldn’t help but wonder for how long she’d be able to deal with comments like that. She’s need to create a shell around her, a thick skin as Ada had told her. Give zero fucks about others people’s opinions.

“It’s like I’ll have it tattooed in my forehead for the rest of my life.”

“What the hell happened?” John demanded to know.

“Get some men to follow Lizzie, she’s been seeing Angel Changretta and we don’t know what kind of information she’s been giving them.”

“Ah the brat!” John made an annoyance face and stormed off.

To try to calm the anger raising, Tommy poured himself a glass of whiskey, not wanting to snap at Y/N for the previous altercation with Lizzie.

The Italians had always give him and his people a bad blood, they thought they were better than anyone else. And in the long run, a relationship between his secretary and one of the Changrettas would bring him more problems than good. Lizzie knew way too much about the business, he couldn’t just fire her.

He needed to find a loose end, something to stop them, to show his power over the Italians. He needed a plan…

Love and sex are a dangerous thing, people get blinded by it and he could’ve a snitch under his nose, he needed to be more cautions with the people he hired and make it clear the unwritten rules and conditions to work for him.

“I should’ve told you sooner.” Y/N mumbled, feeling guilty.

“You knew?” The frown on his brow intensified.

“Not exactly, but one day she started making weird comments about a date and her love life and oh this incredible man…” Y/N shook her face. “I thought she was just bluffing.”

“Yeah you should’ve. But it doesn’t matter now…” he trailed off going for a glass of whiskey, it was still early but he felt like a lion in a cage.

Y/N noticed the way his mind was working, already anticipating to endless possible scenarios and outcomes. Then he paused to rest his arms against a chair and let his head hang loose. The straps of the holster tightened around his shoulders and back, his muscles flexed under the shirt.

“Are you jealous?”

Tommy’s head snapped at Y/N’s words. Taking him by surprise.

“As if you didn’t knew me, you from all of them.” Tommy scoffed, but his eyes softened. “Really? You think I’d be jealous for Lizzie?”

Y/N blushed embarrassed for asking something so intimate. It wasn’t her business.

“Forget I said anything.” She looked in the opposite direction.

“Look at me.” Tommy pleaded with a deep voice. “Lizzie… is not the type of woman that would make a man jealous.” How could he say it nicely? Lizzie was a whore, he didn’t judge her though… But he tried to be cautious with his words.

It took Y/N a moment to register what Tommy meant. But she got the hint wrong. “I get it… just like me, right?”

Mortified, Tommy placed his hands on her shoulders. “No, no that’s not what I was trying to say.” The last thing he wanted to was to hurt her.

“Sure.”

“Y/N…” Tommy whispered, using his forefinger to tilt her head up. “You’re different.”

“The only difference is that she gets paid.” Y/N shuddered, accepting her new reality.

“That’s not true and you know it.” He was too close for her to smell his aftershave and cologne.

His thumb caressing softly her chin.

Shaking her head, she took a step back, but the bold movement made her feel dizzy, her head started spinning.

“What is it?” He asked with worry. “Are you alright?”

Y/N let him guide her to the closest chair. “Yes, it’s just this dizziness, it will go away in a minute.”

But despite Y/N’s efforts to calm him down, Tommy got worrier by the minute.

“Do you need anything?” He eyed Y/N, trying to read her expressions.

“No, thanks.”

“Y/N tell me what I can do for you.” Tommy kneeled before her.

The way he showed her that he genuinely cared about her, melted her heart. Having Tommy’s support meant to her more than words could express.

“I swear I’m fine.”

“Are you feeling poorly?” Polly stepped into Tommy’s office.

“She got dizzy.” He answered for Y/N, looking at his aunt.

“I’ll make you some tea.” She announced before giving Y/N a gentle squeeze on her arm. “Keep her with her head up until it pases, then bring her to the house, I need to speak to you.”

Polly’s look didn’t go unnoticed by Tommy.

He knew those eyes and something was happening, and judging by the look in them it had to be serious.

“I just came to tell you that you can set now the date to open the Institution as soon as we get the personnel.” Y/N announced with her eyes still closed.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard today.” The smile he gave her, was inevitable. “Can I help you with anything?”

“I don’t think you want to go through the interviews and stuff.” Y/N raised her eyebrows at him.

“No.” Tommy answered bluntly.

“That’s what I thought.” She gave him a smile that made him notice something else in her features, something that she didn’t have before, or at least he haven’t noticed… until now.

“Okay so you can sign those papers for me so I can go and sort this out?”

Tommy took the folder and placed his signature on the papers without even reading it. “You’re not taking off my money right?” He joked, the light mood in his voice mirrored in his eyes.

“Absolutely how do you think I’ll feed this baby?” She kept the joke going, feeling a bit better.

“Let me know how this goes.” He saw Y/N take her belongings and the papers. “Y/N how about a party to raise funds for the project? The school needs funding.”

Y/N ran her hand on the door thinking about it.

“A… fancy party?”

Tommy nodded. “With waiters and champagne and shit.” He had access now to the elite members club, people with enough money in their accounts to end poverty but selfish enough to not give away a single coin.

“Could you organize it?” He asked hiding his hands in his pockets.

“Yes, I can do that.” Excitement made her skin tingle, she had never been to a party like that, only once when Lady Winchester requested her to be by her side, but her place was to be back in the shadows, not as a guest.

“You’ll need a dress then. And some fancy shoes too.”

A dress! He had said a dress! She couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of it, she, a no body getting all dressed up to attend a rich people gathering while several weeks pregnant.

“You must not spare on anything, alright? I’ll give you a blank check so you can arrange all of it.” He explained proudly. His dreams finally materializing.

Y/N took in his success, all of the things he ever wanted, he never stopped, never complained. No, instead he focused on finding a way to do all that would take him to where he wanted to be.

His hard work and intelligence was admirable. He never relied on excuses. And despite what everyone might think of his imposing presence, he had a heart of gold and a genuine interest to help.

“Tommy?” Her soft voice pulled him out of his daydream. His blue eyes fixed on hers. “I’m so proud of you.”

She didn’t know how much her words meant to him. How he’d treasure and savor their taste… Y/N was the only person that saw him crying over his mother’s grave, she had been the one who helped him to be a part of the man he used to be when he got back from France, she heard him talk for hours of the horrors he had seen. And now she was helping him materialize his dreams, but in a very subtle way because she wasn’t impressed or interested in the luxury he could afford, she didn’t assume he’d give her everything, no, she wanted to work hard by herself to earn it. She wasn’t accepting anything more than what she thought was fair.

In a world where he could easily get confused and loose sight of what really matters, she was keeping him grounded.

“Do you want to have dinner in your office?” Y/N asked Tommy as she found him in the hall.

After looking at his clock, he guarded it safely again in his pocket, trying to keep his nerves at bay, he had a secret meeting with Churchill in a desert road, he wanted to share some more instructions about the upcoming deal with the Russians and not having total control over when and how things would happen was driving Tommy mad. This was a very delicate matter and the slightest mistake could get them all murdered in a heartbeat.

“No, actually I’ve to go.”

Touching her arm and giving her a gentle squeeze, Tommy asked her to be safe before walking outside. His vehicle roared as he exited the property and Y/N found herself eating alone in the huge dining table.

For her own safety it was better if Y/N didn’t get involved in this. Russians simply didn’t care about anyone, they were fucking mad. He had been actually considering asking Y/N to go somewhere else safe, but knowing her the way he did, she’d take it badly, as if he was trying to get rid of her.

Y/N glanced at the window, it was dark. But she knew it wasn’t her place to ask anything else. Where could he go at this time of the night? With who?

As much as her bond was so close to Tommy, she needed to realize they weren’t stitched or glued to each other and Tommy generally was extremely reserved about his private affairs.

Being alone made Y/N feel miserable and sad, her whole days were filled with lots of people at the Shelby Company Ltd, or the tea time with her grandma at the Garrison or the moments she shared with Tommy once they arrived at Arrow House. So now being by herself it felt so different…so lonely.

“Mary could you please prepare a tea for me?” Y/N asked politely after finishing her dinner.

“I only serve Mr. Shelby ma’am.” The maid added before walking away.

In a few words, she made very clear that Y/N’s presence wasn’t as welcomed as she thought. And her loyalty was reserved for her master, not his unwelcome guest. So without another word, Y/N picked up her dirty dishes and brought it downstairs.

“Miss Y/LN what are you doing?” Asked one of the maids as the chef wiped his hands with his apron.

“I’m going to wash these.” Y/N stated firmly, voice close to break after the humiliating moment she went through with Mary.

If things were as they should be, Y/N would be working under Mary’s supervision.

“Absolutely not, let me handle this.” Gently, the maid retrieved the items and gave the pregnant woman a look. “Can I help you with anything else? Some desert?”

Y/N shook her head. “No, thanks. Where’s the kettle?” She asked instead. This place was huge and there was a walk-in pantry and everything was organized meticulously.

“This is because of Mary right?” Y/N fixed her eyes on the young girl. “What did she do?” But then she placed her hand on her lips, as if trying to say she messed up. “Apologies I shouldn’t have.”

“No, it’s fine… it’s not like I’m Mrs. Shelby.” She sighed and twisted nervously the bow at the front of her blouse. “She reminded me of my place in this house, that’s all.”

The young maid exploded. “She thinks she’s better than the rest of us, just because she’s in charge of everything.”

Y/N studied her features, noticing her reaction was genuine.

“She’s always criticizing the way I do my job, it’s never good enough. And Mr. Shelby doesn’t even care…”

“I know this isn’t my business.” The chef caught her attention. “But she had been complaining about you to every member of the staff, she doesn’t understands why she has to attend you and do things for you when you’re not married to Mr. Shelby.” Duncan explained as he cleaned the stove.

“Oh I’ve heard her plenty of times too, you should talk to Mr. Shelby.” The kind maid suggested.

But Y/N shook her head and thanked the woman for preparing a tea for her. “No, I’m not here to cause Tommy more trouble. And he needs Mary to take care of everything.”

All of this was because Mary had very inflexible thoughts about premarital sex, she was always murmuring “this offends the Lord… or Lord forgive them for that.” So with Y/N being pregnant and living with a man without being married, this was a sin. Y/N was a sinner and in her eyes, she didn’t deserve even a bloody cup of tea.

“Thanks for the tea and the company. I’m sure Tommy wouldn’t mind if you got to have some rest early, all the chores pending can be done in the morning.” Y/N gave them both a smile and rushed upstairs to her bedroom.

The place was huge and she made sure to lock her door, a constant fear of some intruder breaking into the mansion made her feel uneasy. Tommy had a bunch of enemies after all, they wouldn’t care about harming her or her baby just to get to Tommy.

It was too late now to regret anything, it wouldn’t change the course of things. But sitting on the ottoman by the window, she let her mind wander to think of her baby, to imagine if would it be a girl or a boy?

She wondered how would it feel the kicks and her baby would like to hear her singing a lullaby to sleep. Polly already warned her that she’d buy a stroller and a crib for when the baby is born and her grandmother was already knitting some shoes and a blanket. Esme promised to give her a box full of clothes of all sizes so she could choose what to keep, each gesture kept touching her heart, to realize how generous they all were to her, never making her feel bad or unwelcome. She would make sure to let her baby know of all the love that surrounded them even before the birth.

Y/N knew that sometimes blood means nothing sadly, but life always brings a good group of people to replace the others.

But thankfully her baby would’ve lots of arms to cuddle on and a loving chosen family to rely on.

Part 6

Master list

Thank you so much for reading ! ✨🥰 I hope you like this part, as usual, your words is what keeps this going xx

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @garrison-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @zablife @elk96 @blondie-22 @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya @lau219 @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @lauren-raines-x @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @red-riding-wood @lovemissyhoneybee @theendlessvoidofdarkest @wannabeperfectionists-blog (can’t tag) @yeppaweshallsee (can’t tag) @skydisneylover (can’t tag) @holacia3 @galactict3a @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @ietss @abaker74 @natalie--rushman @elliaze @justrainandcoffee @teawonderfultea-blog1

#that’s what Cill said #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x fem!reader #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x imagine #tommy shelby fan fic #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fan fiction #cillian murphy characters

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poorlittlegreenie13 · 3 months ago

Text

Deleted scene from 'Rules For (fake) Dating an Italian' to keep you busy while AO3 is down:

(Sydney & Carmy babysit for Richie, set in between chapters four & five — I wrote it & then decided to scrap it, I don't even know why lol it just wasn't working. & I didn't edit it, so it might have mistakes. But anyway, you guys can have it as a treat.)

Richie runs out the front door, pulling his jacket on.

“Carmen,” he says, walking up to Carmy and, much to Sydney’s surprise, taking Carmy’s face in both hands and pressing a firm kiss to the top of Carmy’s head. “Thank you so much. I owe you, brother.”

“It’s fine,” Carmy mutters.

“Sydney,” Richie says, pulling away from Carmy to look at her.

“I don’t need a kiss,” Sydney says quickly, “just a verbal thank you is more than enough.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Richie says. “Carmy explained the situation, right?”

“I told her what you told me,” Carmy says.

“Because I never miss a weekend with her,” Richie says, “I mean, I have literally never missed a single minute of a weekend with her before, but if I don’t go to the DMV today, it’s like six months till I can get another appointment, and I really need to get my license renewed.”

“It’s fine,” Sydney says, not dwelling too much on the thought of how much Richie has been driving her around with an expired license so far. “We’re happy to look after her.”

“I’ll be back in two hours,” Richie says. “She has her iPod, and all her Barbies. There are Uncrustables in the fridge, or you can cook with whatever’s in there, and she likes watching Unicorn Academy, she can put it on herself.”

“We’ll be fine, cousin. Don’t be late to your appointment,” Carmy says, with a somber expression that looks less like someone taking on babysitting duties, and more like a soldier awaiting command.

Carmy called Syd that morning, saying Richie was freaking out about needing a babysitter. Granted, Carmy was also freaking out about being a babysitter.

"Nat’s busy, Tina’s busy, everyone’s fucking busy, can you please come with me? I’m not good with kids."

Sydney isn’t particularly good with kids either, but she didn’t tell him that.

She would’ve taken any excuse to see Carmy. Because she’s a masochist. And because the fact that he asked her to come not because it would help trick Richie, but because he wanted her help, made her feel kind of hot in the face.

When he picked her up, she slid into his passenger’s seat with an almost-practiced ease, and he just sat there looking at her for a minute.

“Your hair,” he said.

“Oh,” she said, touching the end of one freshly-done braid, “yeah, microbraids, like I told you.”

“They look nice,” he said, and she blushed, despite the stiffness of the complement.

He always seems to rehearse his words to her in his head before he says them; they come out practiced and overly formal, and it frustrates her, how measured they seem, though it shouldn’t.

She’s pretty sure that’s just Carmy’s way. He’s careful with everything, not just compliments. She’s learning that about him.

She’s been learning other things about him, too.

Like the fact that he seems to go quiet in crowds, and gravitate toward walls. He flinches if anybody moves toward him too suddenly. Sometimes, not often, but enough to notice, he stutters when he speaks.

She wants to know everything about him. She wishes his life story was a book she could read, so she could just catch up to where he is now, and understand everything about him. She wants to know the right things to say, to do, how to put him at ease. She wants to know what he’s thinking when he looks at her.

Now, she watches Carmy walk into Richie’s house, stooping to pet Zanzibar as the puppy runs excitedly up to them, letting out high-pitched barks and tapping his little claws against the tiles of Richie’s entrance foyer.

In the doorframe of the kitchen across from them, a tiny girl with blonde hair and Richie’s facial features peeks out at them.

“Hi,” Sydney says, giving her a little wave.

“Uncle Carmy?” the girl asks.

Carmy looks up at her, unmistakable anxiety crossing his face.

“Uh, hi,” he says. “Richie’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”

“She doesn’t call her dad Richie, does she?” Sydney whispers.

“She knows who I mean,” Carmy whispers back.

Eva looks between the two of them.

“Dad said you would make me lunch,” she says.

Sydney smiles. “We will,” she says, looking at Carmy expectantly.

He nods seriously, walking ahead into the kitchen and beginning to look through Richie’s cabinets. Sydney follows Eva into the room, watching the little girl take a seat at one of the kitchen chairs, pulling her knees up into her chest and looking at Sydney with huge eyes she hasn’t totally grown into yet.

“Are you Uncle Carmy’s girlfriend?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Sydney says, glancing over at Carm.

He’s holding a box of Mac & Cheese, and holds it up for Eva to see, raising an eyebrow.

“This good?” he asks.

“That’s good,” Eva says, crossing her arms and deepening her voice slightly to mock Carmy as she says it. He cracks a smile, filling a pot with water and setting it on the stove.

Michelin starred chef cooking boxed Mac & Cheese in a tee shirt three feet away from Sydney. Her life is a joke.

“Why are you his girlfriend?” Eva asks.

Sydney laughs softly, considering this.

“Well, uh,” she says, with a little shake of her head. Carmy has his back to her, facing the stove, but he’s standing still, like he’s listening. “He’s great at cooking,” Sydney says. “And I really like spending time with him. He’s good company.”

“My dad said Carmy’s never looked this happy before,” Eva says.

Carmy clears his throat. “I am happy,” he says, though there’s an ironic flatness to it.

“Because of her?” Eva asks.

Sydney bites the inside of her cheek.

But Carmy turns around and looks at Sydney, brow furrowing slightly, eyes soft.

“Yeah. Because of her,” he says.

He says it like it’s true.

Michelin star mac and cheese is about as good as it sounds. Carmy is leaning against Richie’s counter, watching Sydney and Eva eat. Eva’s iPod is set on the table in front of her, playing some Taylor Swift deepcut that Sydney doesn’t recognize. As Sydney swallows her third or fourth spoonful of food, she stands up, turning to Carmy. The heat of the stove has put a slight flush in the tops of his cheeks, and there’s a towel slung over one of his shoulders.

“You’re not eating?” she asks him.

The question seems to take him off guard. His eyes flicker to the pot of food, then back to her.

“No, I made it for you two,” he says.

“There’s plenty, Carm,” Sydney says, grabbing a bowl from Richie’s cabinet and filling it for him from the pot still warming on the stove. When she hands it to him, he just looks at it for a second, before taking a small spoonful and putting it in his mouth, chewing like it’s his first time eating a meal.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Sydney asks him, picking her own bowl back up.

“It’s alright,” he says, taking another, bigger spoonful. He does that sometimes; it’s one of the things she’s noticed. He eats like he’s starving, or he doesn’t eat at all. It gives her this weird urge to take care of him. To text him in the mornings, and at night, and ask him if he ate that day. To show up at his apartment unannounced with bags of groceries and make him sit down for twenty minutes while she meal preps for him.

“It’s good, Carm, it’s better than alright,” she says again, tone light, even though she’s willing him to believe her as hard as she can. Trying to get him to take a compliment is like trying to throw a ball through a brick wall.

He averts his eyes, nodding again. “A little flat, but I guess that’s what you get with boxed mix,” he says, pushing the noodles around with his spoon.

“Ever make it from scratch?” Sydney asks. “Or is that too pedestrian for a fancy New York Chef?”

“I'm gonna pretend I know what pedestrian means in that context,” he says, meeting her eyes with an amused smile. “I made it from scratch one Thanksgiving, years ago. Had no idea what I was doing. My mother passed out at like 3:00pm, and we were all scrambling in the kitchen trying to get dinner together for her so she’d, you know, see it and be happy with us when she woke up. But Sugar burned the turkey, so Mikey had to spend hours trying to calm her down; she got these crazy panic attacks when she made mistakes. And I made mac and cheese.”

“How old were you?” Sydney asks.

He seems surprised at the question, and shrugs. “Twelve, I think? Mikey would’ve been seventeen, Sugar would’ve just turned fourteen.”

“You’re the youngest?”

He nods.

“That figures,” Sydney says.

He scoffs. “Why does that figure?”

“I don’t know, just does.”

His bowl is almost empty. Wordlessly, she takes it from his hands, refilling it.

“So, did your mom like the mac and cheese?” she asks.

Something in his face darkens. He gives a quick shake of his head.

“No, she couldn’t get past Nat burning the turkey. We just, uh, took all the food into Mikey’s room and watched The Peanuts until she stopped yelling and fell asleep.”

“Uncle Carmy,” Eva interrupts, getting up from her chair and walking over to where Carmy is standing, looking up at him expectantly.“Daddy said you would play Barbies with me.”

“I will play Barbies with you,” Carmy says, and then, looking over at Sydney: “Syd, would you like to play Barbies?”

There’s a fond, almost relieved smile on his face, like another minute of talking about his family might’ve pushed him off some cliff’s edge that he wasn’t prepared to crawl back over.

“Obviously I want to play Barbies,” Sydney says, letting Eva lead them into the other room.

"You're such a liar," Sydney murmurs, as they walk behind Eva.

"I am?" Carmy asks lightly.

"Yeah," Sydney says, "you told me you weren't good with kids."

He smiles, shaking his head ruefully.

"I'm not," he says.

Sydney rolls her eyes.

And they play Barbies, for an hour. Carmy kneeling on carpet, listening attentively as Eva explains which Barbie is which (she has a Taylor Swift box set, it seems, and a Barbie dream home that looks like it cost more than Sydney’s last paycheck). Sydney sits cross legged across from them, watching Carmy delicately hold a Barbie doll in one tattooed hand as Eva brushes out its hair.

Watching him be a good uncle shouldn't be as fucking attractive as it is. It shouldn't be conjuring up vivid images of Carmy holding sleeping babies and cooking family dinners.

God, Sydney is so fucked.

“Speak Now Taylor Barbie is marrying Jacob from Twilight Barbie,” Eva says. “‘Cept I forgot Jacob at Mommy’s house.”

“I see,” Carmy says. Sydney bites back a smile.

“Are you ever gonna get married?” Eva asks, looking up at Carmy.

Sydney’s smile quickly fades.

Carmy’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Me?” he says.

“You and Sydney,” Eva says, looking over at Sydney expectantly.

“Uh, maybe,” Carmy says. He’s looking at Sydney too; an expression she can’t read. “I don’t know. Depends on… lots of things.”

“Like what?” Eva asks.

Carmy clears his throat. “Like… whether Sydney puts up with me for long enough for me to ask her?”

“Oh, shut up,” Sydney says, smiling exasperatedly, shaking her head at him. “He’s kidding, Eva.”

“So you are getting married?”

“No,” Sydney says, “no, not right now.”

“When?”

She looks at them with expectant, innocent eyes. Sydney can’t help but laugh.

“Not for a long time,” Carmy says.

"How long?"

Carmy looks away from Sydney, shaking his head like he doesn't know how to answer.

"I don't know," Sydney says, drawing Eva's attention over to her. "Whenever we decide we want to."

"Don't you want to marry him now?" Eva asks sincerely.

Sydney laughs uncomfortably. When she looks over at Carmy, he's looked back up at her. His brow is furrowed slightly. He should be smiling and laughing. This is funny. Objectively. He's taking it way too seriously.

"Yeah," Sydney says, staring at Carmy, raising a taunting eyebrow at him. "Sure I do. But marriage is really complicated so I think we're probably going to wait and see. Right, Carm?"

"Right," Carmy says, with a stiffness to the word like he's in pain. "Yeah, let's not talk about getting married anymore."

Eva frowns.

"It makes him nervous," Sydney stage-whispers to her.

Eva cheers up at that, smiling and nodding knowingly.

"People get nervous when they love each other," Eva says. "Mommy told me."

Sydney scoffs softly, but when she looks at Carmy he isn't smiling. He's just staring back at her, doing that weird, hyper-focused thing where he gets, like, fixated on her face.

It makes her face feel hot.

It makes her nervous.

Fuck.

#the bear #rules for (fake) dating an italian #sydcarmy

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obexes · 1 year ago

Text

CATALYSIS

PT. II

R.C x READER • R.G x READER

Warnings: Smut, Self-Sabatoging Reader, Manipulation, Small Amount Of Dub-Con (Fucking Rafe), Underaged Drinking, fingering

A/N: The next part will be longer, and this might end up being 10 parts bc the plot, oh I'm gonna let it cook. I tried to get this out ASAP, while juggling too much other shit. My mental health is sickly, so enjoy my degenerate fantasies. Feedback is so appreciated and encouraging y'all :)

Word Count: 7.5 K

Sundays were always your favourite thing about your parents being home. The smell of Italian sausage and carbonara had summoned you from your room to the living room, where your family sits spread out around the large room, with their dinner plates.

When you and Nicky were kids, your Mom would lose it if she caught you guys on the eggshell coloured living room carpet with anything darker than water. Ever since Henley and Patton were old enough to eat on their own, your dad has enforced mandatory family time, which was simply eating dinner while watching a movie together on Sundays.

To be fair, despite all the travelling, they tried really hard to be home every Sunday. You took your spot at the coffee table and picked up the only unoccupied plate.

“I’m feeling Marvel tonight.” Nicky commented, twirling his fork around in his pasta. “Or maybe Disney?”

“Turning Red!” “Inside out!” Your younger brothers both called out simultaneously. You bite the inside of your cheek to stifle a chuckle as your mom warily eyes the excited kids, or more accurately, the food balanced on their laps. She’s hopeless, you think freely.

“I’m thinking we should watch Euphoria. Bring some real world problems into this oasis.” you comment, earning a look from your Mom as well. Your older brother's idiot laugh doesn't go unnoticed.

Your Dad raises his wine glass to his lips. “I don't feel like having a stroke at 39. Peter Pan and Wendy it is.” Despite the child-like film, you all cheer as he hits play. Finally you start to dig into the meal your Mom, with the help of little Patton, made.

After you all finish eating, your dad pauses the film. You and Nicky carry the dishes to the dishwasher, load and start it, before making your way back to the living room. Your parents are curled up together and you take the spot on the other side of your dad, while he wraps an arm around you, the boys pile up on the mountain of blankets covering the floor.

As he plays the movie, you find your mind wandering to last night. To what you did in the hot tub at Tanneyhill. To Rafe fucking Cameron. Part of you felt guilty about messing with Roman’ s cousin and lying to your Mom, but the other part of you was burning. Burning to feel his hands on you again, burning to feel that intense pleasure over and over, and burning to know more. And then there was an even smaller part that wanted to know what such an intimate thing would feel like with Roman.

Even though you were still pissed at him for a number of reasons. You never made it back to Rafe’s room last night.

⊱✿⊰

“You're sleeping in my room tonight, gorgeous girl.”

You giggle quietly as he opens the back door and carries you the few steps across the kitchen, to plop you down on the island. “Want some water or something?”

You swing your legs back and forth, feeling the effects of the alcohol you'd been consuming since you got here. “Yes, please.” You turn your head momentarily towards the doorway as you hear light footsteps upstairs. You brush it off, enjoying your inebriated break from everyone else in the world but the man who just made you cum on his lap.

Rafe grabs two waters and comes back to stand between your legs. He moved nervously, you noted. He looked at you, like really looked at you, as he handed you a water bottle. “You okay? How are you feeling after... well- after everything tonight?”

“I'm good, Rafe. I had.. fun.” You reassure him with a small smile, unsure how to phrase it but wanting to reassure him. Which is still more than Roman bothered to do for you.

He gives you his signature panty dropping, schoolboy smirk. His tone is still nervous, however. “So it was okay? I mean, that it was me?” He slides his hands up your thighs coming to rest them on your hips. You could feel a flush of heat creeping up from where he’d just touched your thighs making its way all the way to your cheeks.

“Yes, Rafe.” You manage to say. His touch is intoxicating, his eyes captivating. You find your arms wrapping around his neck, hands burying themselves in his soft, dark blonde hair. “It was better than okay.”

He leans in to plant a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips before leaning back slightly and catching your eye. You tug him towards you and his lips meet yours devotedly. He pulls you closer to the edge, your bodies meeting again, chest to chest. He bites your swollen bottom lip and separates from you only to tilt his head and kiss you even deeper.

His hands move to grip the sides of your ass and you whine against his lips, causing him to grip you harder. Still chasing the feeling he gave you outside, you push your crotch against his as best as you can from your place on the counter.

“Y/N.” He keens,”I'm never gonna get enough of you.” Rafe buries his face in your neck, leaving warm and wet kisses, leaving his hands to grope your sides.

Lost in the lust washing over you, you both hear the telltale pad of multiple pairs of feet, too late.

“Oh shit” A giggle. “Dude!” Disgust.

“What the fuck?” Anger.

Your head whips over to see three shocked teens standing at the entrance of the kitchen with varying reactions. Rafe slowly lifts his head but doesnt look away from you. Your mouth opens and closes, floundering for words. You look between the three and Rafe as you push him away and jump off of the counter.

Nicky and Mia are slowly starting to snicker, but Roman is just staring at you with disbelieving eyes. The other girl is nowhere to be seen.

“Okay, now this. This makes more sense.” Nicky laughs, referring to this morning when your parents caught you and Roman in your bed, asleep.

“Looks like you have a date to midsummers now, Y/N.” Mia comments with a raised brow.

You remain frozen, aside from your bottom lip wobbling and you biting it in a second attempt to keep your tears at bay tonight. How many times can one girl be humiliated in a day? You don't even want to look back at Romans face.

Rafe eyes your wobbly lip and reaches for you, tugging your hand into his. “Hey, wanna go to sleep now?”

“What the fuck is this? What's happening right now?” You look up from your entwined hands, at Romans dubious tone.

“Roman-”

“Come outside, Y/N.” He walks past you both, through the doors you just entered from, ignoring Mia calling his name on the way out.

You inhale a deep shaky breath. Your brother casts Mia a clueless, questioning glance, which she ignores as she's focused on examining you and Rafe. “I should...” You trail off as Rafe squeezes your hand softly, meeting his eyes.

“Its okay. I'll talk to him later, yeah?” He places a quick peck to your head.

“Y/N, what's going on? I feel like I'm missing something.” Your brother comments quizzically.

Rafe moves to usher them out of the kitchen, “Later , man.” You hear him mutter quietly to Nicky, who meets your gaze one more time before turning back to the den area. Mia lingers a second as you squeeze and shake your hands out, nervously.

“He’s never gonna get it together. Not for you, princess. Listen to Rafe, maybe that way you can stop stepping on people's toes and you won't get hurt.” Mia says the words quietly, but her tone of voice makes it clear that it's a threat. She smiles at you and follows in the direction of two older boys, while you do your best to ignore her and choke down all of the unpleasant feelings building up and make your way to the patio doors.

When you open the door, you immediately see Roman sitting on the porch swing with his head back, looking up at the sky with his usual pout. He doesn't move, or say anything so you walk over to him and sit down. Anxiety wracks your body, as you prepare to inevitably have an uncomfortable encounter with the bipolar boy you called your best friend.

You risk a glance at him and are alarmed to see moisture pooling in his eyes, “Roman.” You whisper. “Hey, I-”

“What was that?” He sits up and turns to face you.”Just- what the hell was that?”

Your eyes widen a little at the intensity of his behaviour. He takes one of your hands in his and looks at you expectantly. “Was that just you guys being dumb, or was that -” He stutters for a second and then takes a deep breath. “Or was that something more?”

“I dont know.” The truth, you were too drunk to decipher your current feelings toward Rafe.

“What?” He scoffs. “I just caught you making out with my cousin,Y/N, and youre saying you don't know why?” He drops your hand, and faces forward, rubbing his eyes in frustration. Your eyes narrow at him. He was the one who'd failed to verbally recognize the fact that something definitely happened between you two. He's been avoiding it hardcore for the past month or so.

“No, Roman, I don't. Besides, you didn't catch me doing anything.” You snap. “The word ‘catch’ implies that i’m in trouble, and I can do whatever I fucking want, technically. Nobody else seems to give a damn about my feelings.” You run your hands through your messy hair. Maybe you shouldn't have thrown that in his face but at the moment, he was pissing drunk you off.

The lanky boy looks at you with ferocity lurking beneath his incredulous expression. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Use your fucking context clues.” You cuss back.

He just stares at you as you attempt to avoid looking him in the eyes. For a second it seems like he's going to finally acknowledge the kiss you shared, weeks ago. You see the recognition in his features for a fraction of a second before he’s up, pacing. “You're ridiculous. Seriously, if you think Rafe is gonna commit to you, or treat you well for that matter.”

Your mouth falls open in shock when you hear Rafes name come out of Romans mouth. He didn't just blatantly deflect the topic of conversation, did he? Bastard.

“Jesus, have you lost your mind? You know what kind of person he is, Y/N. I thought you were smarter than that.” He pinches the bridge of his nose as he spews his bullshit.

You take his dramatic, silent irritation as an invitation to add fuel to the fire, fed up with his week-long diversions from the underlying issue in your friendship. “Yeah, well, at least he didn't kiss me and then pretend it never happened.” You stand up and cross your arms defiantly.

Roman sighs a deep, shaky breath of air. “Y/N... Jesus. You really wanna do this, huh?” You look up, toeing the area of grass you'd just been staring at. His face, his eyes, his whole demeanour are pleading with you to stop. “It was my first kiss, Roman.”

He shuts his eyes for a second and you watch as his breathing becomes a little heavier. When he opens them, he starts toward your teary eyed figure but you step back and he stops in his tracks. “Y/N, i'm so sorry. I didn't know that.”

You nod, tears spilling over your waterline and cascading down your cheek into the ground. Where you wish you could disappear. You ignore the pain in your heart. You ignore the way this feels like a friendship ending argument. You ignore his own tears as they begin to meet yours in the soil.

“I know.” You sniffle, you didn't want to punish him. You don't even know what you want from this conversation. This isn't a good idea, you're drunk. You can't ignore the wave of anxiety that hits you, completely out of nowhere. “I just can't do this, Rome.”

You start to back up, but he follows you. “Do what?”

You squeeze your eyes shut and uncross your arms to instead wrap them around yourself. After a breath, you open them. Roman looks regretful. “Do what,Y/N?”

Be your friend, Is what you wanted to say.

“I can't see you right now.” Is what you say.

You turn around before he has time to see your face completely crumble. Panic, anxiety, and heart ache all fight for dominance over the sob working its way up your throat. You swallow it down and go find Nicky. You wouldn't be staying in Rafes room tonight.

⊱✿⊰

By the end of the movie, your two youngest siblings are asleep. With Olivia having every Sunday off, you and Nicky fold up the blankets quietly talking about the film. Meanwhile, your Parents had each carried a sibling to bed to be tucked in. You grab a stack of blankets and carry them into the hall to put away in the linen closet. When you come back to the living room, your Mom is refilling your parents wine glasses, preparing to watch another movie with your Dad.

Nicky makes eye contact with you and widens his eyes slightly, insinuating something up.

“Ah, the gangs all here. Good. Sit.” Your Dad walks into the den and clasps his hands quietly.

You and Nicky both sit down on a loveseat near the front door and exchange a look. Your parents only do these little meetings to drop big news.

“So, nothing major but Wednesday night you're both expected to be home early for dinner. We're having guests over and there's a surprise involved.”

Nicky groans,”Mom, please. If you're pregnant again, I'm getting emancipated.”

You scoff out a laugh at your brother's blatant statement, before covering it up as a cough when you get a look from your Mom.

“Dominique.” Your father deadpans. “If your mom is pregnant, I’ll take you all and run. It isn't that.”

Your mom downs her wine. “This is why they don't have respect, Joseph.”

Your Dad gives her a warm grin and wraps her up under his arm. “Like I said, just be home early for dinner. Understood?”

You and Nicky ultimately agree without too much prying for details. After bidding your Parents goodnight, you both make your way upstairs. Your brother stops at your door as you enter your room and leans against the doorframe. “So....” He trails off and you roll your eyes as you search through your dresser for a large Tshirt, settling on one that Roman left here.

“Yes, Nicky?”

“What happened last night? I saw you mackin’ on Rafe but why was Roman so mad?” He walks further into your room and plops on your bed.

“Nicky!” You whine, batting at him with the t-shirt in your hands. “Get the hell off my blankets, you went outside in that outfit!”

It's Nicky's turn to roll his eyes at your rules, as he dramatically rolls off of your bed onto a pile of laundry on the floor, stretching out like a starfish. “Whatever. So what happened? I noticed that you stayed at the house all day. And kinda have been for a while.” He adds.

You let out a dramatic sigh of despair and slide down your dresser so that you're sitting facing your bed. “I’m so dumb, Nicky. I think I fucked up.”

He sits up on his elbows, facing you. “Wait, what? What's the matter?”

You contemplate telling him everything for a moment. What's the worst that could happen? Then you think back to the last time you asked yourself that question, and any ideas of total honesty dissipate. “I don't know...” and then, you remember. “What did you mean when you said that me and Rafe made sense?”

He sits up all the way and musses his hair. “I don't know, I was drunk, Y/N. I guess I always just assumed you’d rebel against Mom and Dad. Rafe would make sense for that. More sense than your childhood best friend.”

"Me and Rafe are friends, too.” You point out, although you know it's not the same.

“Not like you and Roman.”

You contemplate this quietly. Nicky comes over to where you're sitting and plants himself beside you.

“Listen sis, I don't know what the hell is going on, but you can tell me if I need to kick someone's ass. I won't ask questions.”

You shake your head sadly. ”It's not like that. I just did a dumb thing and now I have to live with it.”

Your older brother stands up and ruffles your hair. “Well, that's nothing new, is it? Goodnight Y/N/N.”

“Goodnight, Nicky.”

He shuts your door and you change into your shirt before turning on your fan and hopping in bed.

After about 15 minutes of staring at your ceiling, trying to make sense of your feelings, you were over it. You were agonising over whether or not to check your phone for a text from Roman and beating yourself up over what happened with Rafe. You flip over and grab the TV remote. Deciding to listen to something scary, you settle on a rerun of the Paranormal Activity films and turn back over, letting the TV lull you to sleep.

Not 10 minutes later, when you're almost out like a light, does your phone begin ringing quietly on the nightstand. You register the noise and flail under the covers, frustratedly. You snatch your phone up and accept the call, barely registering the name on the screen.

“What?” You almost growl.

“Wow, hello to you too, beautiful.” Rafe’s deep voice rings through the speaker.

“Do not disturb means do not disturb, not call twice, Rafe.” You can't help your tone, your anxiety keeps you up most nights, and you were so close to ending the night on a good note, moments before.

“I'm sorry, I’d take any option that guaranteed your attention.” He laughs.” Did I wake you up?”

“Yes actually.” You sigh, readjusting your covers from the flail. “Did you need something?” “Can I come over?”

“Seriously, Rafe? Its-” You pull your phone away from your cheek and look at the time, faltering.

“Only 9 P.M.? Exactly.” You can hear his smug face over the phone. “So?”

You feel queasy at the thought of seeing Rafe, despite being so explicit with him the night before. It felt like a betrayal to Roman in a way because you two hadn’t spoken since the fight last night where he expressed his disapproval of Rafe and you together. Although a small part of you doesn't care about his opinion, after his blatant disregard for your feelings.

“I don't think that's a great idea, Rafe, my parents are awake downstairs.” You try.

He’s quiet for a second, and then there's an incoming facetime from him. You answer the call and you see Rafe sitting up, shirtless, against his headboard. He has to fight his smile, seeing you laying on your side, hair cascading around your shoulder like a waterfall of curls.

“Is it because of last night?”

You mentally smack yourself for answering a call where he can see your face. Rafe always knew when you were lying. When you guys were 12 and 13, you covered for him when he broke one of Wards Golf awards and he figured out that you had a tell. You couldn't make eye contact.

“W-what?”

“The real reason you don't want to see me.” He says in a bored tone. “Is it because of Roman?”

“No.” You roll your eyes.

“Dont lie to me, Y/N.” The dominant tone he's taking right now has you rethinking your previous statements.

“Fine, yeah. It Is, Rafe.” Pulling the covers up to your chin. “He’s one of my best friends, and you're his cousin. It feels weird that things are like this. I can't stop thinking about that stupid fight.”

You hear shuffling on Rafe’s end and then the sound of keys.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm comin over.” You start to protest but he cuts you off. “I'm gonna take your mind off of it.”

He ends the call and you're left staring at the screen dumbfounded. Now that he’s ended the call, you see a whole slew of texts and missed calls from John B and Kie, and even JJ asking you to join in on the boat day they had today. Nothing from Roman. He was usually always the first to cave after an argument, seeking you out almost every time. The lack of contact, admittedly worried you.

You sigh, sitting up in bed now. There are so many questions swirling around in your head. What was Roman thinking about? Was he still angry with you? What was Rafe thinking about? Was he going to try something? How were you supposed to hide yet another boy in your room without invoking your Mothers anger? More importantly though, how did you look right now?

You spring up and run to the ensuite bathroom. Your hair, once pinned up with a claw clip, now falls loosely around you with flyaway curlies everywhere and you wore only Roman’s T Shirt and a pair of boy short panties as makeshift PJs. You pull your clip out and stare at the excess tendrils of hair falling around you, trying to finger comb them down.

“Is it even worth it, for real?” You ask yourself as you eye the brush that would no doubt make your situation worse. Deciding that, no, it isn't worth it, you grab your mouthwash and gargle a mouthful before spitting it out, rinsing your mouth, and washing your face.

Back in your room, you realise how hot and stuffy it is. You unlock the balcony doors that face the ocean, so that Rafe can get inside. Then you pad across the floor and unlatch your bedroom window, going to open it for the breeze but nearly screaming out loud as it's pushed open, seconds later. “Ahh!”

Rafes hand shoots out to cover your mouth as he precariously balances himself between your windowsill and the branch he's perched on. He gives you an exasperated look. “Jesus, I literally live 5 minutes away. Move.”

You clutch your chest and take a step back just as he pushes off of the branch and pulls himself through the window. “Why didn't you just climb onto the balcony, you could've fallen.” You comment as he steadies himself.

Rafe examines your face, stepping closer. “Your Mom had all the trees near it cut down, remember?”

You’d forgotten about that. As soon as you turned 15 your Mom had to escape-proof your room because of an incident involving a party, a week prior. Which included cutting down the trees near your balcony and removing the garden trellis that crept up right beside it, leaving only an old oak tree beside the window that was across from your bedroom door. “Oh, right.”

You back up and sit on the edge of your bed, patting the spot next to you. Rafe pushes his hair off of his forehead as he takes a seat. The sound of the movie playing is all that can be heard as you both quietly observe each other. He looks really good in his simple blue tee and basketball shorts, and you can't help the natural, girly giddiness you feel.

“You look really pretty.” he starts.

Letting out a small laugh, “Shut up. I look like I was about to go to sleep. You look good though.” You go to smack his chest playfully, but he catches your hand.

“You're still the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.”

Your heart flutters a little at his words, but you quell it and withdraw your hand slowly. One thing Rafe and his cousin had in common was their notoriety as two of the island's biggest playboys. “Don't say things you don't mean, Rafe.”

Rafe smiles at you knowingly, yet you don't know why. “Remember when we were like...” He thinks about it. “I was 9 and you were 8. We were playing hide and seek with a bunch of other kids at Olivia’s garden party?” He questions.

You remember. You’d gotten locked into the old outdoor cellar, while trying to use it as a hiding spot. You'd been locked in for what felt like hours as you plotted a way out, the music and ongoing party drowning out your cries. As a kid you remember thinking you’d be down there forever, You nod, telling Rafe to go on.

“You had all the other kids going crazy, we all thought you’d gotten kidnapped but we were too scared to tell anyone.” He chuckles at the memory. “But then you walked around the side of the house covered in dirt and I remember being so happy to see you. Even though you were crying and looked like a mess, running for your parents. You were the prettiest girl to me then. You're still that same girl, now.”

You make a face, scrunching your nose. “Why is my near death experience such a significant memory for you? I could've died, digging that little tunnel under the door.”

“But you didn't.” He laughs, ruffling your hair. “Jesus, you suck at accepting compliments.”

“Yeah, well, you kinda suck at giving them.” You smack his hands away, smoothing your mussed hair. His eyes shoot to your bare legs as your T-shirt rides up. Then they flick up to scrutinise the shirt itself and you wonder if he’ll mention anything about its owner.

Instead he tugs at the hem of it with a sudden mischievous glint in his eyes. “Anything under here?”

You blush. “Rafe, shut up.” You weren't expecting Rafe to be here right now in the first place. In fact, you'd tried to avoid it. Just because you guys got drunk and fooled around didn't mean you suddenly were into Rafe. That's just what teenagers do, right? Yeah, he may look like a god and he always smells good but you didnt wanna risk your friendship with him or Roman further.

“Make me.”

His fingers slip past the hem, teasing their way up your thighs. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you swear you stop breathing. But when his fingers brush too close to your clothed pussy, you snatch at his wrist and he looks up at your face, fingers frozen over your core.

“Rafe, what do you want?”

“Honestly?” You nod, matching his heavy eye contact.

“I just wanna make you feel good, baby. ” He inches his face closer to yours, while you slowly start to forget why you stopped him. “Right now I really want to make you cum on my fingers.” He only breaks eye contact as he presses his lips against yours roughly. You loosen your grip on his wrist, your inhibitions melting at his actions.

He takes the opportunity to press his thumb against your clit, eliciting a soft whine into his mouth. Your breaths mingle together, hearts beginning to race in sync with the electric tension that's filling the air.

Rafe cradles your face gently in one hand, fingertips tracing the delicate lines of your jaw as your tongues swirl against each other. His warm touch causes a shiver to go down your spine and he smirks into the kiss. You feel his heartbeat against your chest as he lowers you onto the bed, his fingers stroking you over your panties.

“Rafe,” You coo against his soft lips. “Keep touching me there.”

“Yeah, Princess? Like this?” Rafe drags his thumb around your clit in circles, increasing the pressure. Your hips grind involuntarily towards his hand as you nod, a moan escaping your lips.

“Shhh, be quiet.” He presses another short kiss to your lips, letting go of your face to yank your shirt up to your belly and focus his gaze on his handiwork.

Rafe continues to tease you, your panties preventing you from feeling his skin. He looks up at you, watching your reaction as he ghosts his fingers over your entrance again. You were suddenly filled with a longing for something more - an indefinable desire that was rooted in your core, and it made you shiver with pleasure.

Rafe smiles smugly as he watches you, his gaze tender yet smouldering. He leans forward and kisses you, your mouths exploring each other with an intensity that takes your breath away. With each kiss, your concerns about Roman faded away, replaced by something new and exciting and unbearably sweet.

When he finally pulls away, Rafe drags his hand away from your pussy to brush lightly against your hips, tracing a gentle line along the curve of your waist. You shiver again, skin prickling with pleasure as he moves his hands lower.

To your surprise his fingers lace between yours, and he gently tugs you towards him. “Do you want me to keep touching you, baby?” You nod desperately, extremely flushed. “Can you keep quiet?”

You nod again and before you can protest his fingers are in your panties. He teases you slowly, and his breathing becomes heavier. You're lost in a world of sensation as his thumb finds your clit again, beginning to create blissful, swirling patterns.

His fingers slowly trail lower, to your entrance, and you can feel your body responding to his touch, almost dripping over his fingers. Your skin is alive with a pleasure you've never felt before.

Rafe groans while you throw your head back as he begins pushing his index and middle fingers inside of you, the stretching sensation too intense for you to take it. You grab at his forearm as he begins pumping his fingers in and out of you, the heat from his touch making you moan.

”W-ait.” You attempt to push his arm away but he holds you in place with his free arm, his pace becoming more insistent. The painful stretch begins to fade into something much more pleasurable.

“Let me make you feel good,Y/N.”

Rafe moves his fingers at a quick pace, repeatedly stroking against your G-spot until you're a whining, moaning mess. As you begin to feel yourself nearing an orgasm, you silently beg him to stop before you could release, as if that would make this any better. Rafe, however, seemed to be enjoying your reaction and continued his assault, his fingers sliding deeper and faster.

You felt your entire body ignite with a pleasure that was both overwhelming and exquisite. Your hands find his shirt and you ball it up in your fists, feeling yourself release, squirting on his hand and your covers. You’re screaming muffled profanities into Rafes palm as your orgasm finally engulfs you. Your body goes limp with relief, your breathing ragged as you lie there, trembling.

Rafe withdraws his fingers and sits up, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. You lay there for a few moments, trying to process what just happened. You felt embarrassed and ashamed, but at the same time, you couldn't deny the pleasure you had just experienced. As you slowly sit up, fixing your panties, Rafe's smirk widens.

"That was quite the experience, hmm?" he says in a smug voice.

You could feel your cheeks flush and you quickly look away, your heart pounding with a mix of emotions. Rafe leans closer and puts his hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him. "Hey, It's okay," he says softly. "You don't have to be embarrassed. I'm just glad I made you feel that good. That was fun right?"

You nodded, your face still flushed with embarrassment. You look away again, not wanting to meet his gaze. ‘It's just that... I didn't expect it to feel that way. I'm kind of overwhelmed. Sorry if that sounds stupid.”

Rafe pulls you into his chest and wraps an arm around you. “It doesn't sound stupid. I get it, I've never seen a girl squirt before, either. I'm sorry if that was too much.”

You roll your eyes, as he can't see you, at his boyish thoughts. "It's fine, Rafe.” You pull away from Rafes hug and stare at your carpet awkwardly. Sensing your hesitance he looks away from you nonchalantly, “You tired?”

Seeing the question as an out, you meet his eyes and nod, feeling the atmosphere in the room change. His smile is small, disappointed. “I'll see you tomorrow then? Or Wednesday?” You furrow your eyebrows. “The dinner that your parents are hosting..?”

You remember your Dads statement earlier, the dinner and the surprise. “Oh, okay yeah. You're coming?”

“Yeah, So are Olivia and Roman.” Rafe replies as he stands up, wiping his cum covered hands on his shorts. You internally cringe at how awkward this interaction is turning out to be. It's your fault, you have to fucking ruin everything. You nod your head as if you aren't mentally cursing yourself out. “But hey, Y/N?”

You meet his expectant stare. “Yeah?”

He kisses your forehead before backing towards your window, smirking as he opens it once again. “I took your mind off of it, didn't I?” And with that he's gone.

⊱✿⊰

He did not, in fact, take your mind off of it.

Two hours later, you're still awake, staring at your ceiling fan trying to drown out the negative thoughts eating you alive. You had a tendency to overthink, and with that came anxiety. The best remedy for your anxiety was alcohol, which not only did you not have access too at the moment, but it also caused you to make dumb bitch decisions, occasionally. You couldn't help but crave it anyways.

You felt incredibly guilty and even ashamed that you let things go that far with Rafe, especially given the fact that he didn't seem to be concerned about your actual feelings about it.

As the minutes go by and sleep evades you, you give up rolling over to pick up your silenced phone. You have a slew of unanswered notifications but one name immediately catches your attention. Sitting up in bed you click on the notification, fast as shit.

45 Minutes Ago

Romeo: Jelli bbeen

Romeo: com to our beecfh

Rome: Plz im srory

Fuck, I'm a horrible person, you instantly hit the call button, knowing that he’s drunk off of his ass. When the call goes to voicemail straight away, you hop out of bed and throw on a pair of shorts and crocs, slipping quietly out of your room determined to go make sure he's okay.

You pause at the top of the stairs, listening for the sound of your parents, when you hear nothing you creep down the carpeted stairs slowly.

FInally reaching the back door, you slide it open as quietly as you can and creep outside. Shutting it behind you, you turn around to walk towards Romans house when you spot a figure, down on the beach, near your family's dock.

You curse under your breath and hurry towards the figure. As you near, you can clearly see Romans broad torso hunched over, one arm laying on his knee holding a bottle of Jack and the other stuck in his extremely messy hair.

“Rome.” You call softly so as not to startle him.

He raises his head slightly, back to you, but doesn't move otherwise. “Jellybean?”

“Yeah... it's me, what's going on Roman?” You put a hand on his shoulder, sitting down beside him. “What are you doing sitting out here? It's almost Midnight.”

Roman looks at you in a mixture of melancholy and clear intoxication. His lips twitch into a slight frown, as if he is going to cry, but only momentarily, before he takes a shot and hands you the bottle. You take it, gratefully. “I needed to see you, talk to you.” He’s slurring, dangerously. ”I really fucking hate what happened yesterday.”

Before you reply you take a shot too, and sigh. “Which part?”

“All of it. I really fucking hated it all, guppy.” He turns towards you, his demeanor slightly more defeated than a minute ago. He was naturally a manic person, but when he was drunk, he went from tough guy to busting out every pet name in the book in hopes of being babied. “Seeing Rafe touch you, seeing you like it.... us fighting.”

Your eyes widen, slightly. “What does that even mean, Roman?

Roman stares at you with his sad green eyes, dejectedly. “I want to fix it. I fucked up and I want to fix it.” He taps the bottle in your hand and you hold eye contact as you take another drink, passing it to him afterwards, him doing the same.

“It's not entirely your fault, Roman.” You let your eyes fall to the sand between you. You hated lying, but you didn't know what was going on in his head and telling him about Rafe being in your room, less than 3 hours ago, would possibly just serve to make him more upset. “I shouldn't have kissed Rafe.” You omit the part about you grinding and cumming on his dick, for Romans sake.

He grabs your hand in his and pulls you to scoot closer, you do. “Ya’guys only kissed cuz’ I never talked to you about us.” he says. “M’ sorry if I hurt you baby. I love you, Y/N. I really fucking love you.” He cups your face, dragging his thumbs across your cheeks.

You hold your breath, deja vu from a few weeks ago hits you square in the chest. This is exactly how he kissed you the first time. You've wanted to hear those words from him for weeks, hoping that he was secretly in love with you too, not while he was this heavily inebriated, however.

You gently grab his hands and squeeze them, lowering them so they are between you both. “Maybe we should talk about this in the morning, bubba?”

Roman's lip starts trembling, barely noticeable, at the nickname. “Y/N, no. You deserve an explanation, please let me explain.” He whines. “I do love you. It wasn't about you.” He looks at your joined hands for a moment before placing a kiss on your knuckles and peering hesitantly up into your eyes.

You couldn't help but want to hear him out. Your heart constricts as he begins speaking in a pained voice. “It's my Mom, Y/N. Shes fucking insane. Do you remember, 9th grade, I was with Allie Mcentyre?”

You nod, pensively. You'd been friends with Allie that year, because she was dating Roman, before she abruptly cut you off. Roman seemed not to care, so you didn't either. “Yeah before she ditched us.”

He grimaces. “She didn't ditch us, Y/N.” You furrow your eyebrows in question. “She was the first girl I ever brought around Mom, and the entire fucking time, she gaslit and- and lied an' manipulated both of us." Roman pauses as he hiccups, and gathers his words. "She would text her cryptic shit from my phone and then delete it so that it seemed like her angry texts were random, she’d tell her that she wasn't good enough for me and me the same. Allie told me she didnt want to see me anymore after my mom told her mom that I’d been having sex with multiple girls at a time.” He chuckles. “I was still a fucking virgin. She just wanted to ruin what I had. I realized she’s only going to let me be with someone that she chooses for me.”

“Roman...” Your mouth opens and shuts while you process your next words. “Im so fucking sorry, that I didnt know about that. That's literally insane.”

Roman chuckles drily, you pull him into a bone crushing hug. “It's okay, I didn't tell you.”

You squeeze him and pull away. "I shouldve been there for you, I'm sorry."

Roman shakes his head, placing a hand back on your cheek, thumb resuming its soft, delicate strokes. “No. I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve the way I treated you. I love you, jellybean, please don't be mad at me.”

You gently press your palm against his hand but this time you don’t remove it. “I could never stay mad at you, Roman. I love you too.” How could you ever be angry with this side of him? Nobody ever gets to see this side but you. The whiskey stupor you were beginning to feel caused you to zero in on the tall boy beside you.

His lazy, responsive smile is so boyish and sweet, it makes you buzz with desire, and briefly you recall wondering what it would feel like to do what you did with Rafe, with Roman instead. They are different in more ways than they were similar. Roman is hard and broken, but his pure heart radiates through the cracks, whereas Rafe was a tried and true asshole, though you had to confess you didn't know him as well as you knew the boy in front of you.

“Y/N?” Roman bites his lip and a slight frown forms between his brows as he glances down at your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

In lieu of answering, you tangle your hands in his hair and pull him to you, desperately connecting your lips. You caught Roman off guard but he quickly grabs ahold of your waist in his free hand, managing to hastily pull you onto his lap.

As your mouths slowly move together, a warm electrifying feeling spreads through you, time seems to slow down, allowing you to focus solely on his lips and the emotions they were making you feel. His hands find yours, intertwining them with his, solidifying the bond you two were experiencing.

You couldn't help but think about the way Rafe kissed you earlier, only in that his kiss was much less intimate, yet more hungry and physically intense. WIth Roman, it was a slow dance of tongues and lips meshing that made you soaked for him in a completely different way. You purposely rolled your hips over his and he groans, squeezing your joined hands. You break the kiss and lean back slightly, admiring the boy who has your heart.

“Hmm, baby?” His lips look a delicious, puffy red and his eyes are half lidded, he looks so sexy right now. Before you could help it, you’re grinding your pussy against his member again, both of you letting out satisfied moans at the friction. “Y/N, shit. What are you doing to me?”

The whiskey in your system has your body acting on its own, out of sexual frustration from the months of built up tension between you two, desperate to explore it with him. You just let his cousin finger fuck you. Fuck, two shots wouldn't be enough.

You pick up the bottle of Jack Daniels, resigned to the choices you were about to make, and downed two or three shots. You force yourself to ignore the burn, and Romans drunk, questioning gaze as you tipped his chin and poured some into his mouth. He shakes his head with a grimace, swallowing down the shitty tasting alcohol.

Without wasting a beat, you begin peppering kisses along his neck, and he lets out a spur of dirty, drunken noises from the back of his throat.

“Does that feel good?” You can't help but tease your clit along his clothed erection again, body moving intoxicatedly of its own free will, chasing the friction his shorts provided, as he struggles to answer and resigns to nodding. You move your mouth up to his ear, sucking softly on it before whispering, “Roman, I want you so bad, want you to fuck me.”

“Wh-” Instantly his hands are on your hips, pushing you slightly back. “Jellybean, what?” He seems almost instantly sobered as he examines your features. "I thought you were a virgin?” You flush at your own obviousness, feeling it even over the warmth of the alcohol coursing through you.

“Well... I mean, I am. But, I want you to be the first.” You grip onto the bottom of his shirt, glancing down, doing your best not to appear as the tipsy, desperate slut you feel like.

Roman sighs heavily, closing his eyes for a second, squeezing your hips gently. “Y/N, I dont know about you, but Im really fucked up right now.” You nod, still not looking up but he lowers his head, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I want it to be good for you. I want it to be special, not like this, pretty girl.”

Your eyes begin to well up quickly, in humility at the perceived rejection and you look out at the ocean, wiping at your tears before they can fall. “I'm sorry, Rome, I'm so stupid. I'm sorry.”

“Love, you aren't stupid. Believe me when I say I want this as bad as you.” Roman shocks you when he removes your hand, that's clutching his shirt, to place it on his hard length. “This is what you fucking do to me, baby. And when the time is right, I won't just be the first, I'll be the last too.” He gives you a lopsided smirk and a delicate kiss on the lips.

You offer him a small smile in response, he was being such sweetheart and you felt horrible. At the forefront of your clouded brain, you were desperate to replace Rafe's touch with Roman's as if it would erase your prior actions, but you shove it to the back, focusing on his reassurance. "Is that a promise?"

“Of course, it is. I know I've been so wrapped up in my own head, trying to keep everything...normal, but I don't want to do that anymore.” He pulls you close again and rests his forehead against yours. “I want this, baby. I want you.”

No, no, no. Roman, dont. Not right now. The guilt is going to crush you. You look down. “Will you be my girlfriend?” His hopeful eyes await yours.

You're quiet for a beat too long before you slowly look back into his expectant face. “I can't, Roman... my Dad. You know how he is.” It's bullshit, but he doesn't know it. Yeah your dad would have an aneurysm but you didn't care in the slightest. You had to make sure that Rafe wouldn't say anything about what you guys did, and break things off with him first, before you made an even bigger mess. Roman was wasted, he might not even remember this in the morning.

Romans face falls a bit at your words. He just promised to endure his mothers psychopathy for you and you wouldn't even return the favour? You hate the look that flashes across his face and hurry to reassure him. “I'll talk to him, okay? After dinner on Wednesday.”

He nods somberly, “Yeah, okay. If you want to.”

You grab his face and plant a kiss on his pouty lips. “I do, Romeo, don't worry. And I promise, I will.”

He laughs at that, loving the nickname. You made many mistakes, but you wouldn't let this be one of them. The feelings that the boy under you made you feel, compared to absolutely nothing else. At least that's what you keep telling yourself.

#rafe cameron #roman godfrey #dark!rafe cameron #roman godfrey smut #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe x reader #obx imagine #obx #obx netflix #hemlock grove #bill skarsgård #drew starkey #smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe x you #roman godfrey x reader #catalysis

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alonetimelover · 1 year ago

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...marry me?

pairing: Harry Styles x polish!reader

summary: Harry's drunk and YN is the angel that he dreamt of.

word count: 1,2k

masterlist

“Are you gonna be able to take him back home?” Gemma asked YN, concerned with Harry’s current… state.

“I think I’ll be good.” She smiled at her soon to be sister-in-law. “If not, I’ll call my cousin. He said he wanted to observe the stars tonight, so he won’t be asleep.”

“Okay. Take care and be careful. Bye, bye!” Gemma bidded YN goodbye with two kisses on both of her cheeks and, together with her long-term boyfriend, moved towards the Taxi.

It was well past 2 a.m. and the party was coming to an end. The younger part of the people staying with Harry and YN at their house, decided to go out and enjoy themselves in the city. Starting with late dinner at the coaster restaurant they moved to the heart of the city - to seek pubs with live music. Arriving at one, Harry caused quite the appeal - 'English Harry is back!’ - was shouted from behind the bar. A lovely older man - Sergio, the owner of the pub - greeted them warmly and announced that all drinks were on the house.

Tonight the band was playing blues and Harry was in love. With five drinks in his system (plus two glasses of wine he drank during dinner) Harry was drunk. And drunk Harry meant even more social, friendly and extroverted Harry.

With a glass in his hand, and a kiss lingering on his lips from his fiancee he moved to the band, promising to ‘just congratulate them’. Soon enough Harry forgot his drink on the nearby table and sat behind the piano, starting to improvise with the band. They found rhythm immediately and played for fifteen minutes non stop.

“I’ll order one more,” Harry screamed on his way from the piano to the bar, motioning to the now empty glass.

After that he got lost around people that seemed to be congratulating him on the performance. It all was a sight to see. A sight that YN wanted to look at for the rest of her life - content Harry.

When Gemma left the pub, YN made her way towards the bar, where Harry was sitting alone by the almost empty glass. Approaching him, she slowly placed her hand on his shoulder, causing his head to shoot up and confusingly look around. When finally found, Harry's eyes lit up. He straightened his back and dusted his linen shorts, cleaning his throat.

“Ciao,” he greeted her in italian, flirtatious smirk on his face. His eyes were bloodshot, pupils dilated, cheeks red and forehead with droplets of sweat. A sight of drunk Harry Styles. A state of ‘if he drank one more drink, he would be on the floor’.

“Ciao, caro.”

“Caro? Are you an angel? Wait! Don’t answer. You are. Renaissance angel, not biblical. Those were - pfff - freaky,” the last word he whispered, scrunching his eyebrows in disgust. “But you - oh lord - you are the most exquisite angel I’ve ever met.”

YN wanted to laugh, but bottled it up, putting her lips in a thin line - the corners daring to move up. Drunk Harry was the one to later tell tales to your relatives and friends - always unpredictable. She loved to engage with the world he seemed to be in those times.

“Come closer,” he once again whispered, motioning with a finger for her to bring nearer. “I actually met an angel once.”

“Did you?” She whispered just like him.

“I did! She - she looked just like you.” Harry came to the conclusion after looking at YN for a few seconds. “Maybe I’ve dreamt it? Did you come to my dreams?”

Harry then fell back into his chair, leaning back on it. The rest of his drink was now like waves hitting against the glasses’ edges. The look on his face told YN one thing - he was deep in his thoughts.

“You must have. There is no other way. I wouldn’t know your face, if you didn’t. Couldn’t forget your face. No, no I couldn’t. Too glorious to forget, too out of this world.” He was looking straight ahead, at the line of bottles behind the bar, but his eyes searched for the memories of that angel.

“Will you let the angel take you home?”

Harry shook his head, “no, no. I need to do something first. I need - I need to run!”

Before YN could say anything, Harry left the wad of money and ran out of the bar. She, as quickly as she could after all those drinks, ran after him.

“Harry! Harry!”

When she ran out to the street, she looked around, trying to figure out which turn she should take. On the right was him, jumping up and down with his hand held high, trying to pluck the flowers of the flowerpot outside somebody’s window. When he had five in his hand, some with roots and some with broken leaves, he jumped for the sixth. He didn’t, though, see that those broken leaves fell to the ground, making it much more slippery. The thing he felt was that his bottom hit the ground hard.

“Fuck!” He cursed, starting to move around, trying to get up.

“Harry, what in the world are you doing?”

Harry’s eyes shot up, “angel. Angel you - you were just in the pub!”

“I ran after you.”

“You, you ran after me?”

Harry accepted the hand YN was offering and leaning on it he sat on his heels. YN in the same position right in front of him.

“Of course I did, my love.” She caressed his cheeks with a smile. “I’ll always run after you.”

With hope in his eyes, sniffing, he placed a hand with the flowers in front of him. The colourful petals, a little bit beaten by the fall, were leaning to the sides.

“Angel,” he started slowly. “Marry me?”

YN’s eyes watered. She held up her right hand, showing the ring she received almost a year ago.

“No, no, no. You - you cannot,” Harry started rambling, shaking his head. “It’s - it can’t be. No, no, no.”

“Harry, Harry. It’s okay.”

“No, no, it’s not. Marry me? Please. Please, I’ll look after you. I’ll cherish you. I’ll love you.”

“Harry,” she tried one more time. “I dreamt of you too.”

He calmed instantly and gazed into her eyes.

“I dreamt of you and you, you asked me then. You gave me this ring. Look -” she took it off and placed it in his palm - “it has your initials inside, see?”

Harry inspected the ring carefully for a moment, squeezing his eyes trying to see better in a night’s lights. He caressed the engraved letters, a tiny smile showing on his gorgeous face.

“You said yes?”

“I did.”

“Angel will marry me?”

“Yes. Angel will be the happiest creature on earth to marry you.”

Harry not losing any more seconds closed the gap between their lips and connected them in a sweet but deep kiss. Simultaneously, he placed the ring back on YN’s finger, moving then his hands to the sides of her head. He ended the kiss with a loud - muah - and stared at her.

“You know that the angels don’t come to earth?”

“But I’ll be the happiest one regardless of that.”

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #slavic!reader #polish!reader

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almondmilkcleanser · 10 months ago

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𝖈𝖗𝖔𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖑𝖊𝖌𝖘 𝖉𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒☾ ☽𝖓𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 - O1

■ ` ♡ characters / fandom ; f!reader x sebastian michaelis + Claude faustus

■ ` ♡ tw ; TBD ; dominance ; dirty talk ; cumming inside + more ;MINORS DNI

■ ` ♡ word count ; 3k +

■ ` ♡ a/n ; YEAP! ITS A MINI SMUT SERIES! - I want to try my hand at mini smut series’ since I’ve been getting a lot o questions on continuing smut plots. So… enjoy! excuse any mistakes. I’ll add the aesthetic fluff later, I just wanted to get this out to y’all. If you prefer the entire post in one and not bite-sized chapters, let me know!

main menu | one-shots menu | masterlist | all chapters

You checked your calendar before leaving home, dreading the horse and carriage ride in advance. It was the Summer time, and although the family plans should have canceled with the passing of the Phantomhive adults, your father saw it most important to uphold the circumstantial promise bestowed between him and the late head of the phantomhive manor.

"Hmph!" You turned up your nose, pretending to be so devastated that you were to stay with your future business partner, Ciel, for the summer so you two can become familiar with joint business transactions and recreational activities.

"What's the point of continuing with this endeavor?" you brattishly voiced your disagreement with your father as he peered out the window in excitement. You cocked your eyebrow at him, wondering if the trip was supposed to be for you or for him.

"Now now, y/n, you're going to love it. You'll meet Ciel and you'll learn his practices, so when I die you'll be sword sharp and wont sink my business into the ground!"

Sucking your teeth, you opted out of a response and instead pouted out the window. Why bother you thought to yourself. His mind was already made up and since you were daddy's only child you had no say so in the direction of your future after you turned 18.

He entertained your mother's requests by having you in the finest of ballet and etiquette classes, but now that you've grown into a mature young woman it was time for you to learn the ins and outs of the real world. According to your father at least.

Seeing the manor across the horizon, you straightened up to get a good look at your chambers for the summer. How quickly you would have preferred to go horseback riding in Paris with your cousins or even travel to Italy with your aunt. But noooo you had to stay cooped up in a house with a complete stranger. And- who were these people outside of the manor?

"Daddy, it looks like there's more people here." you pointed out. Your father seemed to have caught wind of the strangers as well.

"How odd." he said, squinting his eyes to better focus on the figures.

"You would think after all this time the young master may have grown. I could have sworn you two were only a year apart."

"Daddy!" You scoffed, rubbing the bridge between your nose in frustration. "If you wanted me to babysit you should have just told me! Now i'm here spending the summer with a ch-"

"Enough of that now." Your father silenced your bickering, his eyes never leaving the manor's entrance. He saw the young master, sure , but he didn't expect him to be accompanied by two butlers and a young blonde haired boy the size of a young teenager...

"And to think," you sighed, dropping your chin in the palm of your hand with a longing pout. "I could be eating grapes out of the hand of my Italian lover right about now."

"Italian lover!!" Your father barked, his eyes burning into you as a father would, but your eyes were too affixed on the flickering trees passing you two as you inched closer to the Phantomhive manor.

Worst summer ever you thought to yourself.

"Ah, Ciel!" your father jeered, opening his arms wide to embrace your cousin Ciel in a large hug. You remained in the carriage, frustrated, bored, and dare you say it, intimidated.

Not only was it an irrevocably still short Ciel, but now there were two brooding butlers standing alongside him with some... weird, blonde child. He kept spinning in circles around the other off putting butler and the one who seemed to be designated to Ciel just stood there with a smile, occasionally glancing your direction.

You huffed inside of the carriage, crossing and uncrossing your legs anxiously. You would absolutely have your father's head when you returned for the summer. He didn't even notice you were still in the carriage, your suitcase still nestled under your feet. As an act of rebellion, you settled for pants, a dress shirt and overalls, completely shielding your feminine attributes from plain sight. This was a business partner, afterall, not a suitor to be married.

"I guess my pouting won't get me anywhere. And besides, I'm star- !"

The carriage doors flung open and there stood the first butler, his angular face and brown eyes curiously peeking inside of the carriage. Your father, steaming in the face, peered over the butler's shoulders, his brows furrowing together in silent frustration.

"Does the lady need to be carried?" he asked.

"Need to be carried?" You huffed, turning up your nose. "I can help myself out, thank you." You reached for your suitcase only to be halted by the butler's hands mid-motion. The other butler and his blonde companion looked at you, watching your moves intently. The blonde one seemed to grow weary of you and continued to circle the butler, singing some made-up nursery rhyme.

"Claude! She seems to be a brat. Heh hehe, what a handful she will be to Ciel, don't you think?"

The butler named Claude said nothing but shifted his glasses upwards, his golden eyes quickly glancing at you then back at the young boy.

"Don't be so brash, Alois." protested Ciel, fixing his shirt collar with a confident smirk. He strolled up to the carriage, leaning inside to greet you with a smile.

You didn't remember him having an eyepatch before either..

"Cousin Y/N," Ciel said, "How time has flown since we've last met. Why don't you come down and get settled, I'm sure the journey here must have exhausted you. I know my humble abode," he extended his hand towards his mansion then back at you, "isn't quite the Summer retreat in Italy as you so have hoped," Your face instantly grew hot. Did your father run his mouth to guilt you?!

"But I assure you, Sebastian," the butler Sebastian nodded at you, his eyes never leaving yours, "And our accompanying butler, Claude," Claude shifted his eyes at Ciel, you, and back at Ciel as he spoke, "will see to it that all that you need and want are provided."

"Because we wouldn't be the Phantomhive Manor if we failed to deliver substantial hospitality to future business partners." he winked at you before walking away, making you roll your eyes in your head.

Sebastian reached for your suitcase with one hand, and for your hand with the other, smiling warmly at you.

"I'd hate for the lady to slip and fall stepping down from such a high carriage." You looked at his hand, then at him, scoffing aloud.

You scooted out of your seat, bypassing Sebastian's gesture and hopping down from the carriage yourself. With a huff, you walked up to your father, gave him a soft peck and walked ahead to the manor without saying much else to anyone.

But you could feel Ciel, your father, Sebastian, and Claude's eyes burning a hole in your back.

"I see the integral design of this place hasn't changed..." you mentioned. Your eyes scanned the entirety of the grand hall down to the descending stairwell into the actual manor, and nothing has changed. It was a similar feeling to time standing completely still.

"Father-" your eyes wavered back to your dad who was, without a doubt, pissed off with you. He pulled in his lips, blowing out fumes of smoke from his ears. Ciel and Sebastian looked your direction, both of their expressions muted. The strange butler and the blonde-haired boy bore their expressions on the front line for all to see. They weren't amused or impressed by you by the least.

It instantly made you uncomfortable, making you halt any further remarks.

"My Lord, if it is alright with you," Sebastian, with your luggage still in his hand, looked over at Ciel with a smile.

"I'll guide the lady to her room for her extended stay." your father nervously looked your way, then Ciel's, then to the butler.

"O-only if she-"

"Its fine." you interrupted. You didn't even look back at your father as you stood at the base of the stairs, arms crossed, looking towards the direction1' of the bedroom chamber hall.

"Lead the way." Sebastian, amused by your sudden change of decorum, proceeded to walk ahead of you with you following a few feet behind.

"I'll be sure to write, father!" You called out, your back still to him. Your father watched Sebastian's cheerful expression as he opened the chamber doors for you, silently hoping you'd be your usual self and make a remark just so he'd know you were okay with this decision for you to stay with your cousin. But you didn't, and it baffled him greatly.

"i'm sure I don't have to inform the lady of the design layout ," sebastian mused, his smile never leaving. it was getting to grow on your nerves just how... chipper he was from the beginning to now. you didn't say much, instead you looked ahead and walked.

Sebastian took hint of your silence with a raised eyebrow. secretly, it relieved him that you didn't want to talk. He would take the silence with ease in consideration of all the babbling he had to do on a day to day basis.

both of your shoes clicked against the polished floors. your eyes danced across the family portraits littered down the halls, secretly sending a prayer to the fallen phantomhive adults. you stopped in front of the Vincent Phantomhive, taking him in bit by bit. Sebastian, visibly uncomfortable, gazed at the portrait glaring down at him with a mischievous smirk. like it knew something you or him didn't.

"It's almost uncanny," you looked at Sebastian whose eyes never seemed to move away from yours. "You look just like him," you referred to Vincent. His eyes snaked at the portrait, then back at you. You could hint the slight twitch in his eyebrow, but he covered it with a grin.

"The Master said quite the same thing. I'm actually flattered. I hear he was a handsome man when he was alive." You didn't respond. Instead, you looked at Vincent one last time before moving forward down the hall.

Sebastian's eyes looked over at you while yours were ahead. You couldn't put your finger on it but the entire manor just felt... off. With a yawn and a stretch of your limbs mid-stride, you decided to let it lay for the day.

"Is the lady tired?"

"Apparently so. How much farther till I get to my room?" Sebastian coincidently stopped in front of two large doors.

"We've actually just arrived. Pardon the distance, the Young Master wanted you to have one of the best rooms in the house to make you feel at home." That was fine and all, but why so far?

Sebastian opened the doors to your room, your luggage still securely latched around his arms and shoulders. You stepped inside in awe. Nothing has changed but everything looked... so pristine.

You glanced back at Sebastian who was still standing in the doorway, waiting on your command or your dismissal. He was.. so weird. You fluffed your hair, massaged your neck and turned around to grab your luggage off of him. He looked a little dumstruck, but you didn't care. You spent almost 3 hours looking at trees, empty plains, and horses. To look at another in its mouth didn't bother you too much.

"I think that'll be all for now. Sebastian, was it? I should be able to take care of myself from here." You didn't wait for him to leave to begin unpacking.

This definitely wasn't Italy, but at the least the mid-day nap you were anticipating to have once Sebastian left soothed your irritations for a little bit. As you unpacked your clothing article by article, you could still feel his presence behind you. But when you turned around, like a ghost, he was gone.

"I know its been about a week since you've been here, but I just can't help but say it again: its such a pleasure to see you again after so long, Y/N" Ciel cheerfully raised his tea in the air towards you. He took a small sip and placed it back on the saucer in front of him, his lips slowly transitioning from a frown to a chipper grin. Sebastian took note, grabbed the cup and walked out of the room into the adjacent kitchen. It made you wonder about this.. arrangement the two had and why did the butler look so much like his late father.

After so many years, you would have thought that Ciel might have.. matured. You remember how short he was when you two last saw eachother. Aren't boys supposed to grow at least an inch every year? He looked.. just the same.

When Sebastian returned, he removed your old cup and placed a new one on Ciel's side. When he tried to place a new one at your side, you held your hand up in protest.

"No thank you." Sebastian nodded silently, his mouth curved into a frown for a split second before straightening into a neutral disposition. You crossed your legs and cleared your throat. The silence of this manor weirded you out. And the feeling of someone watching you in your sleep made it hard for you to even get a good night's rest!

"So, Ciel," you began. "I'm sure I owe you an apology for how I came to the manor in the previous week." Sebastian's eyebrow raised. "And I can assure you, you have my deepest apologies. It was inappropriate for me to be a guest in your home with my arrogance." You leaned your body on one side of the enormous loveseat. You gracefully crossed your hands over eachother along with your legs, a Cheshire grin spreading across your face.

But, the truth was, you fucking hated it. The meetings, the morning strolls on the horses, the uncanny understimulation on a day to day basis between Sebastian and Claude. They moved around like little obedient dogs and it annoyed her spirits to no end! Where was the conflict? The action? Where was the fun?

You sent letters to your father, requesting an immediate end to this abhorrent imprisonment he called a summer retreat. Feh! You could spit on that word.

Ciel said nothing. He took his cup of tea to his lips, closed his eyes and sipped slowly. He was concentrating on something. But nobody knew exactly what. You flicked at the lint nervously as the silence crept up. The tension was building so much that you nearly jumped out of your seat at the knock on the door.

"Let them in, Sebastian."

"Yes, My Lord."

He moved like he was walking on water. His black tuxedo nearly floated behind him. And as he walked past, you could feel a chill. It unconsciously made you rub your arms to get warm.

"Ah! Sebastian! What took you so long?" Were they still here? You only saw them twice since arriving last week!

"Is she in here? Oh- she is!" Alois' voice dropped down into a whisper. "Claude, she is! She looks so beautiful. For someone with a dirty mind she surely looks stunning!"

Your palms grew sweaty and your stomach dropped. What the hell did he mean by that?

Your fingers recoiled into your palm. You could feel the stickiness build up in your hand but every time you reached for your napkin to wipe, it was bone dry.

"Sebastian, if you will." The young Lord put his cup on the table and extended his hand outwards with his palm up. He leaned onto the armrest of his own chair, cheek retaining on hs opposing balled up fist. You looked over at Alois and Claude who sat on the opposing couch. Alois looked incredibly amused while Claud remained stoic, unimpressed, annoyed. When you snuck a glance at him, he shifted his glasses upwards, looking back at you.

"Um," you swallowed. "Ciel, I- I thought this was a private meeting between family. Care to explain why an outside butler is here in our conversation?"

"Ouuu, she's tough." Alois whistled. Claude made something of a grunt in response.

Sebastian stood next to Ciel, proud in posture and in poise. In his hands were bundles of paper wrapped neatly in twine. He handed the stack of papers to Ciel. Returning to his position with a smile.

"Ahem," Ciel patted the stack of papers on his knee. "I understand with you being an adult woman now, you don't find too much joy hanging out with a young boy as myself. You see," he flipped through the papers for a few moments his polished fingers carefully fingering the sheets like they were bound to break if he were to apply too much pressure.

"I think it says here," He glanced at the smiling Alois and unphased Claude and then back at you.

"Dearest Father, I think you have mistaken me for the naiive little girl with bows in her hair and dirt in her knees that once found joy in roaming the flowerbeds with my boy cousin."

How did he-

"To subject me to staying with the Phantomhives for the entirety of the summer is beyond punishment enough. I know why you truly sent me here, it's because of the rumors spreading across the land. And I have to say father, a shame on you for believing the help."

What the-

"For all you know, father, they are plotting against you and I in spite and jealousy so you may remove me from being the next line in command whenever the date of succession comes. I hope this letter finds you well and my request to come home is well received. I miss you and our beloved dog, Snuffles. Please, come and rescue me from this dreadful abundance of redundancy at once."

"Love yours, Y/N."

You bunched your dress in your hands, your cheeks burning to the touch.

"How did you even get those, Ciel?" You spat. "That's an invasion of a woman's privacy, you know!"

Ciel nonchalantly turned the paper facedown, completely ignoring your question. Instead, he fingered for another letter that looked to be tinted a shade of pink.

Oh no. No no no-

"Ahem,"

"Oh, this is the one, Claude. Listen listen~" Alois giggled.

"My dearest love. I'm afraid to write your name in this letter, but may you know firsthand that this letter is for you. How I wish I could see you, my love and be in your arms again."

"You can only imagine how my heart broke knowing that we would not have our moment in Italy under the stars like back at home. How I miss your eyes, your smile, how warm you make a woman feel in spaces that she didn't know were Ali-"

"Give me those, you little brat!" You jumped from your chair and charged at the young master, but Sebastian was just too quick. He held you up by your arms, making you tiptoe just to feel the ground.

"Ah! What's the meaning of this? Sebastian, let me go!" You wiggled your body back and forth, spouting obscenities as Ciel continued to read with zest.

"The way you caress my skin brings goosepimples to my flesh. The way you showed me how to use my mouth to please you, I dare not to try with another man. I feel warm to the touch just writing this to you, My Love. Can you feel it, too? Can you imagine my lips on your neck, singing soft melodies to your flesh with my tongue, where I orchestrate the most beautiful-"

"Enough!" Sebastian chuckled to himself at the redness in your face and the flush in your fingers.

He leaned closer to your ear. "I'm sure you can imagine that it just progressively more descriptive as the letter goes on. Claude and I found it extremely fascinating that-"

"Oh, shut up, Willow Tree!" Everyone's eyes darted at you. Sebastian frowned, gripping your wrist tighter. You didn't see it, but it was something in Sebastian's face that made Ciel bark at him.

"Enough of that, Sebastian. Remember who's in charge." He loosened his grip, sighing to himself.

"Yes, My Lord."

Annoyed with it all, you started to wiggle again.

"Is this how you treat all of your guests!? Wait till my father hears of this. You and our partnership is through you hear me? Through!"

"Hm, not quite." Ciel interjected. "You see, the stipulations of your inheritance to the family corporation is that you stay true to your femininity until marriage. And by the contents of this letter," he pat the letter with the back of his hand a few times. He threw it to the table and Alois grabbed it, giggling at its contents.

"That qualifies as a breach in contract. So, with all of that being said. How do you propose we keep your secret hidden and my hand in the business firmly planted?"

"Let her go, Sebastian." He released you, making you massage your wrists in pain.

"So, Y/N. What's your plan?" You looked at Ciel, Claude and Alois and Sebastian with a flush. Before you'd let this manipulative little brat get the better of you, you stormed out of the room back to yours, knocking over a glass vase in the process.

Sebastian eyed Ciel, his eyes flickering red.

"What do you say we do, My Lord?"

Ciel tapped his chin for a minute. He smiled to himself, reaching for his tea to sip.

"You and Claude work on the negotiations. Alois and I have business of our own to take care of."

END OF PART ONE — NEXT CHAPTER

I TAG:

@chrollohearttags

@muvaginger

@two-pounds-of-crab-legs

@koshhin

@preciousamethyst

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starchbean · 2 months ago

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Y'ALL

Scummies--c'mere. Closer. CLOSER

WHY ARE YOU HOLDING OUT ON MEEEEEEEEEEE?!?!

I just learned about the Cakeverse. We NEED to make SVSSS fic for this! There's like ONE FIC and it's in Italian and I have a cousin but I CANT READ ITALIAN PLEASE CHAT DO IT FOR MEEEEE

**to clarify, I don't mean read the Italian for me, I NEED YOU TO WRITE SVSSS CAKEVERSE

Of course I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't at least offer a little something of my own, so here's the bit:

Shen Qingqiu was a fork, and everyone knew it. The readers of Proud Immortal Demon Way knew it. The Peak Lords and disciples alike of Cang Qiong knew. Hell, even people from other sects had heard the rumors about the Qing Jing Peak Lord.

As for Shen Yuan, the first few months of experiencing it had been really demoralizing! And worse–the cute little white lotus protagonist himself had taken the initiative to cook his meals, and he wouldn’t even be able to taste them at all! How could he appreciate them properly?! Luo Binghe knew this, and STILL he put his whole effort into cooking his best meals for his teacher. Ah, truly there was no disciple more filial than Binghe!

If nothing else, Binghe’s cooking had been pleasing to look at, and the hot steam that wafted up from it felt soothing on Shen Qingqiu’s face, so of course he would eat it. He wasn’t going to waste food, okay?! He knew he was immensely blessed to experience Binghe’s cooking on any level at all. Still, it would have been nice to not leave the flavors to his imagination.

Thankfully, today’s breakfast brought a breath of hope to the poor transmigrator that caused him to shed a tear of joy behind his fan. It seemed his old sense of taste was starting to come back to him after all! Perhaps the System just needed some time to adapt Shen Qingqiu’s body to better suit its new occupant.

The flavor wasn’t much, just a hint of something in the dough, vaguely sweet like icing. Thinking about it, it made sense that the power of the Protagonist’s cooking was enough to pierce through even the Scum Villain’s taste buds! At this rate, maybe he could avoid the original Scum Villain’s fate as a human stick for almost devouring Binghe after accidentally tasting his blood at the Immortal Alliance Conference!

Luo Binghe eagerly watched as Shizun ate his breakfast with an intense glint in his eye. He knew what he was, and what he had done to his beloved teacher’s food this morning. It wasn’t much. He had just pressed a little kiss to each of the buns before cooking, but the effect of his saliva was just enough. Shizun did taste it, Binghe could tell. Shizun wasn’t reacting aggressively and seemed not to suspect Binghe at all. Maybe he would add something a little more of himself next time. Something that would prickle all of Shizun’s senses. That sounded delightful indeed.

#starchbean #mxtx #svsss #scumbag system #scumbag self saving system #scumbag villain #mxtx svsss #mo xiang tong xiu #cakeverse #scum villain #scum villian self saving system #scum villain system #the scum villain's self saving system #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #mxtx fic ideas

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tgmsunmontue · 3 months ago

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Season to Taste - 7/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

“You need to work the dough.”

“Stop worrying about your clothes.”

“You will get messy.”

“Come here. Watch me.”

Bradley follows Nonna’s instructions, now fully aware just where Leandro gets his demeanor from, although while she is exacting, she is also much freer with her praise. He’s also meant to be helping Violet with her English, but so far she seems unimpressed with him, watching him fail at making pasta.

“More flour.”

“Now work it.”

“You get strong arms making pasta,” Nonna says, poking at his bicep and Bradley huffs in amusement. “Okay. Stronger arms. You make all the pasta from now on. I can rest my old bones.”

“You’re not old.”

“Never ask a woman her age! Or even imply that you might know it.”

“I know, I know. All women are beautiful.”

“And all the men, sì?” Silvia asks, coming into the kitchen and Bradley flushes, because he hadn’t exactly expected her to find that out the way she did. Fortunately neither she nor Leandro seem to care, and now Violet is looking at him with surprise rather than disdain. It makes a nice change.

“And all the men,” Bradley agrees, ducking his head with embarrassment.

Silvia lets out a mad cackle of laughter and pats his face, leaving a flour imprint.

“Come on now, we still have to make ravioli…”

… … …

He knocks on the door and waits for Leo to come and answer. He’s packed a small bag, basic toiletries and a change of clothes, even if the assumption is that he won’t be needing them. The door opens and he goes to step forward, greet Leo with a kiss except…

“Oh. Shit. Sorry. You are not Leo.”

“No. No I’m not. Nice to know he’ll get a warm welcome though. I’m Violet, one of Leo’s cousins.”

“Oh, hi. Nice to meet you. Jake Seresin.”

“Seresin? Huh.”

She’s giving Jake a once over, and rather than feel like he’s getting checked out he feels like he’s being assessed and critiqued, a bit like he’s undergoing inspection back in USNA and about to be yelled out for having a spot on his boot. However he’s got five older sisters and he can wait out anyone.

“Everything okay?”

“Hmm. You’ll do Cinderfella.”

“What?”

“Just what I call you. Leonardo got drunk and talked about you. I called you the one who got away. Like… Cinderella. But Cinderfella.”

“Clever. Except I didn’t leave a shoe behind,” Jake grins, quite intrigued to learn that Leo definitely remembers him. That he wasn’t just a vague memory but had made enough of an impression to not only be remembered, but talked about and for his cousin gave Jake a nickname. He’ll take it.

“No. You didn’t.”

Her voice is low and serious, she gives him another look, this time Jake wonders if he’s being measured for a body-bag, suddenly a little more nervous. He didn’t expect a shovel talk for a hook up. Prolonged hook up sure, but still a hook up. She jerks her head and steps aside, calls out something in what he assumes is Italian which he thinks he might understand half of. He steps in after her, takes the open door for the invitation it is, toeing off his shoes. Leo appears and his face lights up when he sees Jake and he smiles back. Raises an eyebrow when Violet slaps a hand on Leo’s chest and starts talking to him in rapid fire Italian. Leo is still looking at him, although a quick few snaps of her fingers in front of his face bring his attention back to her.

“It’s rude to talk in front of guests when they don’t understand...” Leo states with a grin.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want me to repeat what I just said in English?”

Jake raises an eyebrow, because it’s obviously got to be embarrassing for him, or maybe Leo. Or maybe her, given the way she’s flushing, although he thinks she might be angry with Leo for putting her on the spot.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind…” Plus he’s sure Leo can tell him later if it’s funny.

“She was just saying it was a shame you don’t have a sister…”

“Uh…” Jake starts, because Leo knows he has sisters. Maybe not quite how many, or that one is in fact a lesbian, if that’s what the angle is here, but he’s not just going to toss that out there.

“I was joking! Ugh. Call me when dinner’s ready.”

“Yes your highness…”

She gives Leo the finger and it reminds Jake so much of his relationship with his own sisters it makes him grin. Leo had said he didn’t have siblings, but obviously he’s got cousins he’s close to. Close enough to work and travel with anyway. Then Leo is clearly not caring about his cousin and is stepping in close to him and giving him a deep kiss, like the one he’d planned to give him when he opened the door. Nice to know they would’ve been on the same page at least.

“Hi. All good?”

“Very good… anyone else here I need to meet? Or hide from?”

“No. They’ve all gone, managed to get earlier flights. Just me and Vi. And she’s going back to New York day after tomorrow.”

“And she knows when to make herself scarce…”

“That she does…”

… … …

Bradley feels energized, the other side of fucked out and instead is going to be in a sickeningly good mood which is going to annoy Vi so much. He can’t wait. He is indeed going to make dinner and he’s not going to do anything fancy or new, but he does need something to direct his buzzing energy into so he’s making pasta from scratch, enjoying Jake’s company in the kitchen as he watches Bradley feed the dough through the pastaio.

“You know, I would have been fine with store bought right? Even takeout.”

“Just as easy to make it. And it’ll taste better.”

“If you say so.”

“You can give me your honest feedback…” Bradley says, pausing to give him a kiss, and it drags on a bit longer than he anticipates, Jake shifting to grab and massage his ass and he groans into it, a little amazed because he’d thought he was done. At least for a little while. Apparently not.

“No fucking in the kitchen!”

“Vi…” Bradley groans.

“I told you to call me when dinner was ready.”

“Does it look ready?” Bradley snaps, and she’s interrupted the beginnings of a nice make out session.

“No. And it never will be ready if you keep stopping to…” she pulls a face and waves her hands around, her annoyance at not being able to find the rights words palpable. English idioms were something she’s always hated.

“Play tonsil hockey?” Bradley asks. “Grab ass? Mess around? Suck face?”

“Better than sucking other things. Come on. Cook already. Then I’ll go back to my room and put my headphones on really loud. Because I won’t make that mistake twice.”

He rolls his eyes, pulling away from Jake with reluctance, reminds himself that she’ll be gone in less than thirty-six hours. And he’ll probably miss her when she’s gone, although he’ll only have ten days with Jake and then… well. He doesn’t want to think about what comes after. Instead he lets Jake and Vi make polite conversation and she’s telling him all about her Masters in business and languages while Bradley finishes making the pasta and then starts on the sauce. It’s a simple carbonara with some pancetta and mushrooms because he’s scraping the bottom of the barrel in terms of ingredient with it all used up for filming yesterday and then consumed pretty much immediately, and he’d used the rest of it for breakfast and really hadn’t thought it through. At least he’ll be able to go to the farmers market again twice before he leaves. He dishes up and Vi looks at the bowl and then at him, pulling a face and he chuckles.

“Leave me alone. I’m on vacation.”

“I’ll say.”

He puts the sauce on the table automatically, but he sees Jake reaching for it automatically and he grabs his wrist.

“Wait. Just… try it first without the sauce?”

Jake rolls his eyes and does a whole put upon sigh; Bradley tries to ignore the feeling of Vi’s eyes boring holes into the side of his head. Jake dutifully tries it, nods and smiles and then promptly adds sauce and Bradley just lets himself shake with silent laughter. Just his luck the hot guy has god awful taste.

“He’s… you’re… tomato ketchup on pasta? Leonardo.”

“He’s not making you eat it,” Bradley says with a laugh out loud this time, and he sits down, hooking his ankle around Jake’s. It’s the third meal now he’s seen Jake add ketchup to and he’s starting to think Jake’s tastebuds might be dead. Or unable to taste anything other than ketchup.

“Salsa scandalo. Mamma mia… Nonna e la Nana sarebbero morte.”

“Shut up. They wouldn’t die,” Bradley says, kicking her under the table in an effort to make her remember to at least try and stick with English.

“Oh, I think they would. Then they’d turn into ghosts and haunt you.”

“Salsa scandal?” Jake asks, repeating part of what Vi had said.

“You adding ketchup to pasta. Our grandmothers would both have something to say about that.”

“Bitch. You’d normally have something to say about that. Il cazzo deve essere davvero buono.”

Jake chokes and Bradley looks at him sharply, remembers Jake saying he’d been learning Italian using DuoLingo. Huh. He probably understood something there, dick or good, or both. Vi can be incredibly crude when she thinks no-one understands what she’s saying except for Bradley.

“Jake here is learning Italian, so you might want to watch your language. Don’t want him to think you’re not a lady.”

“Uh, there was never any danger of that…” Vi snorts. “So, Italian huh? That’s a funny coincidence.”

Jake just shrugs and smiles at him.

“No, not really.”

EIGHT

#Season to taste #Hangster #Sereshaw #Top Gun Maverick fanfiction #AU

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apomaro-mellow · 1 year ago

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Mafia Part 1

For the occasion, Eddie was given one of his dad's old suits. It didn't quite fit as well but it would have to do for now. He tied his hair up in a bun and put a hat on top of it. Wayne was dressed similarly and it was like this that they entered the Marini home. Eddie couldn't remember the entire reason everyone was gathering. Could've been a birthday party for all he knew. But being in the main house meant good drinks and a chance to rub elbows with the folks up top. Which obviously meant more money.

Wayne finally let the leash off to go and talk with some of the older guys and Eddie got to go off on his own. He sat with Tonio, a man shorter than him despite being ten years older and Swirly, who looked like a breeze could knock him over.

"Why do they call you Swirly?", Eddie asked.

"'Cause when I stab guys I like to flick my blade around. It's my own personal touch."

"'Personal touch'", Tonio laughed. "You're just a classic narcissist."

"It's art."

"It's ghoulish."

"You wanna talk narcissism...", Swirly trailed off as he took a sip of his drink.

Tonio whistled like a rock falling down a well. He must know who Swirly was talking about.

"Who?", Eddie asked, preferring to stay in the loop.

"The little prince", Tonio sneered.

"Steve Harrington. The boss' son", Swirly provided a better answer.

"Harrington, huh?", Eddie said, just meaning to get a feel for the name but the others must have thought he was asking another question.

"The last boss had a daughter, just an absolute peach of a dame", Tonio said. "But she went and fell for this outsider, Harrington."

"He'd done some deals with us, but he wasn't family", Swirly said. "Until he married into it."

Eddie nodded, getting the picture. "So Steve Harrington should've been Steve Marini?"

"He could've been Giuseppe Alessandro Italiano-Magnifico. Won't change him", Toni nearly snarled, starting to spoil the air with a bitter scent before reining himself in. Eddie was eager to find out how someone so high on this world's food chain had earned the disdain of one of his underlings.

Eddie moved around a bit. Tonio and Swirly were basically footmen. Always in the streets, rarely in the room where the big decisions were made. Eventually Eddie came to a circle of young men closer to his age. Young bucks who were also looking to rise up. Some of them were already related by blood, cousins and nephews. Others were like Eddie, boys down on their luck, doing little jobs here and there for the money. But when you gave to the family, there was always the chance that you could be brought into the fold.

You could be sponsored.

Eddie had heard of it. Heard it could be a grueling process depending on who was vouching for you and for what. Wayne had been sponsored a few years ago. It had been an odd time when he didn't see his uncle as much as he'd been used to. But by the end of it, Wayne was able to invoke the Marini name if need be.

It was power. It was respect. It was everything Eddie wanted. They were seated at a table outside in the backyard where they could be louder. As they were wont to do. Sometimes the conversation switched to Italian, which left Eddie in the dark, but before too long it was back to a tongue he knew.

They started talking about what they'd do to be sponsored and then it turned to what they wouldn't do.

"What if they ask you to be celibate?"

"They're not gonna ask that."

"I heard they made a guy cut off his knot."

"Get outta here!"

"Nah, it wasn't just the knot, it was his balls too."

"They don't want eunuchs!"

"An alpha's only good for his knot anyway."

"What's a beta good for then?"

"Fuck if I know."

That caused both raucous laughter and jeers from the betas in the crowed. And just because Eddie had to be a pot stirrer, he spoke up.

"What about omegas?", he smirked.

"They got holes, don't they?", one alpha said.

"Everybody needs a warm body", a beta answered.

"If they're the right omega they can set you on easy street", another alpha, answered. He'd introduced himself as Tommy. Hagan, not to be confused with Tommy Corns who got caught holding up a pharmacy last year.

"The 'right omega' meaning your omega?", another guy piped up.

"He ain't Tommy's yet. He's still gotta woo him", a different one cackled.

"Aww, you sweet on someone Tommy-boy?", Eddie jabbed.

"I'm not sweet on anyone. Just got my target locked."

"On?", Eddie pressed.

"Who else but the best? Pretty soon, you'll all be calling me 'boss'", Tommy looked so sure of himself.

Ah, so he was after the cream of the crop. Eddie wondered how many of these guys were after Steve. Probably not many if Tommy was openly gunning for him.

Wayne found him and put an arm around his shoulders as he brought him back into the house. "There's someone I want you to meet. Mind yourself and don't get any ideas."

“What? Me? Ideas?”, he grinned cheekily.

“I mean it. We’re here to do our jobs and keep our heads down.”

Wayne brought him before a man in his late forties, thick, dark hair, graying around the edges. Next to him was a young man. Both were dressed in perfectly tailored suits. For a second, Eddie thought that he was being brought before a fellow associate. But he quickly realized these two were far above that. Especially with the way Wayne deferred to them.

Eddie was so caught by a scent that he almost missed what was happening. Lavendar and pine, wafting around him in a way that reminded him of freshly laundered linens.

It was during introductions that he realized. This was the omega everyone was talking about. Steve Harrington.

And he was looking at Eddie like he was a stray dog.

Steve looked him up and down. “You’re the Munson boy?”

“Sweetheart, I think I’ve got a few years on you to be called ‘boy’.” Eddie hissed when that remark earned him a pop on the head from Wayne.

“Please forgive my nephew. He’s not around polite company often.”

“If he’s yours Wayne, I’m not worried”, Harrington Sr. said. “I know in time he’ll prove himself to be loyal and a worthy addition to the business.”

While the older men talked, Eddie’s eyes were glued to Steve’s, who in turn hadn’t looked away from him yet. There was something behind those eyes and Eddie wanted to find out what it was. Eddie knew what it was like when people looked down at you. Steve was doing that, sure, but it was more than that.

It was almost like he expected something to happen. If Eddie were more bold, he would have made another comment. But he wouldn't dare do so in front of such a powerful man. Steve's father, James, could have had him killed with just an order. He wasn't about to antagonize his only shot at a not-shit life.

Eddie would have done so if he could've gotten to Steve one-on-one. But after that little meet and greet, Eddie was taken to talk to other men. And every glimpse of Steve he got, he was glued to his father's side.

Little prince indeed.

Part 3

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #a/b/o

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peakyswritings · 4 months ago

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Meet the Ferrante Family

It’s incredible that in less than two weeks it’ll be a year has passed since I posted the first chapter of Heart, Body and Soul. Thank you so much for those who have stuck with me despite the slow updates🤍

Finally, I made a post with the face claims I found for the Ferrante family (although Nina doesn’t have one yet). Are most of them from the Godfather movies? Yes. Do I regret it? No. And note that a great number of aunts, uncles and cousins are missing, but I decided not to introduce them since they are not relevant to the story.

Nina Ferrante is the OC from my ongoing Tommy Shelby x OC series Heart, Body and Soul.

NINA’S FAMILY

Vincenzo and Maria Ferrante

Pietro, Salvatore and Nina’s parents

Vincenzo Ferrante: he runs the Italian side of the business. He’s the oldest brother (older generation). Despite being a very traditional man, he has a soft spot for his daughter that leads him to give her a bit more freedom. In fact, Nina’s the only girl in her family who was allowed to finish school.

Maria Ferrante: she’s a conservative woman, very religious and apparently meek.

Her mother had spent her whole life convinced that all she was born to do was to take care of someone else, without ever being able to make a single decision for herself, or voice her thoughts, and that conviction was too deeply rooted inside her to be eradicated. (Excerpt from CH.6)

However, there’s more to her than she lets on.

Pietro and Salvatore Ferrante

Pietro Ferrante (on the left): he’s the oldest of the Ferrante siblings, and he’s expected to become the head of the Italian side of the family business after his father. He fought in the war and almost lost an arm in combat, and sometimes it still hurts. After the war, he built walls around him.

Pietro, the older one, had almost lost an arm in combat, and even though two years had passed, sometimes it still hurt. But in exchange for the arm, the war took something else away from him. There seemed to be nothing left of his once caring nature, and his innate attention for details had turned into a urge to have everything under control. (Excerpt from CH.5)

Salvatore Ferrante (on the right): he’s the middle child. He fought in the war and returned with a deep scar on his face.

As for Salvatore, the war had enhanced the restlessness that had always distinguished him. He was angry, easily triggered, spiteful. And now he had a deep scar which crossed the left side of his face, making his expression appear even more grim. (Excerpt from CH.5)

Nina Ferrante

Nina Ferrante: she’s the youngest child and only daughter. Her fiery nature and unusual views make her a bit of an outcast in her family. She’s believed to be a witch by many of her cousins and other girls from the village. She rather enjoys the rumours.

There was nothing soft about Nina. She was all sharp edges and searing looks. […] She was outspoken, and defensive, and angry. Angry at her family, whose judgmental stare burned on her skin. Angry at her mother, who had wanted her different since the moment she had drawn her first breath. Angry at her father, who still treated her like a little girl who knew nothing of the word. Angry at Tommy Shelby, who thought he could just barge in and state some claim over one of them. (Excerpt from CH.2)

However, behind the mask, she’s extremely sensitive, and feels everything deeply.

Winston

Winston: Nina found him when he was just a kitten, and took him in without a second thought. He’s a little shit, just like his owner.

AGNESE’S FAMILY

Mario and Rita Ferrante

Agnese, Rosa and Sofia’s parents

Mario Ferrante: he’s the youngest among the Ferrante brothers (older generation) and runs the Italian side of the business alongside Vincenzo.

Rita Ferrante: she’s Agnese’s mother, and has a love-hate relationship with Maria Ferrante. They care about each other in their own way, but are stuck in an endless competition.

Agnese Ferrante

Agnese Ferrante: she’s Nina’s cousin, and the one Tommy is expected to marry. She’s considered the most beautiful girl in the village, she’s soft and kind and probably the only one of Nina’s cousins who doesn’t ostracise her. Being the oldest child, she feels responsible for her sisters. She knows she needs to get married, cause she has no brothers and if something were to happen to her father, which is likely, considering the family’s line of work, they’d have no protection. Of course their uncles would take care of them, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Rosa and Sofia Ferrante

Rosa Ferrante (on the left): she’s the middle child.

Sofia Ferrante (on the right): she’s the youngest child.

OTHERS

Antonio Ferrante

Antonio Ferrante: he’s the middle child of the Ferrante brothers (older generation) and runs the English side of the business. He has two sons, Alfredo (the oldest) and Angelo (the youngest), who are expected to run the English side of the business after their father. Their mother passed during childbirth. No face claims for them yet.

THE SPINIETTA FAMILY

The Spinietta family is another Mafia family who operates both in Sicily and New York. There’s a delicate balance of power among the Spinietta family and the Ferrante family, and they’re struggling to keep the peace. Spinietta has two sons: Vito (the oldest) and Stefano (the youngest). They didn’t fight in the war thanks to their father.

They walked around as if they owned every street, every shop, every person; as if everything was owed to them, because they had money and power. (Except from CH.5)

Stefano Spinietta

Behind the courtesy and the charm, Stefano is actually a monster. He has been obsessed with Nina for years, and recently started pressuring her father into arranging a marriage between them.

Stefano Spinietta was a disgusting person. He was the son of one of her father’s business partners, the boss of another mafia family, which operated both in Sicily and in New York. In the last few years, Stefano had been very clear about his intentions towards Nina, and he had taken too many liberties with her, to the point where she had found herself in the position of putting a knife to his throat. But the threat didn’t have the intended effect; if anything, it only made him more relentless. (Excerpt from CH.3)

Stefano still has a scar on his neck from that episode with Nina.

Heart, Body and Soul taglist

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

@kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse

@citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

@look-at-the-soul

General tag list:

@iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys

@lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989

@call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat

@red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

Tommy Shelby taglist:

@50svibes

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fics #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby imagine #nina ferrante #heart body and soul

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chicaboom-chic · 2 years ago

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More Than Business- Michael Corleone x Reader

PROMPT: The reader is from a different crime family and she thinks he’s only marrying her for connections but he actually loves her.

Thank you @21witnokidz for the prompt.

WARNINGS: None, other than pretty shitty writing. (My cousin and I wrote this when we were drunk. Seriously guys this story is disjointed and weird. Sorry)

WORD COUNT: 3967

There’s a moment where it hits you again; there it is that feeling of unease and formidable tension. It resurfaces in the silence, as you stare at Michael from across the room. You’re in his father’s office with him, he had whisked you away from the hectic party for a moment alone, a moment of brief intimacy.

It was ironic the party was being thrown for the both of you but between the questions from the nosy aunts, cousins, and uncles, you and Michael had barely seen each other. And now even with your absence the party still raged on outside. Lively chatter and laughter could be heard from behind the office door, it was accompanied by the slow strum of a guitar and the sweet serenade of Italian songs.

Michael’s family and your family had congregated at the Corleone house. They had come toghether for a celebration of great measure, an engagement party; your engagement. Michael had proposed to you three months ago but had only announced your engagement two weeks ago. So naturally, a party had been thrown. Nearly everyone who knew your family and the Corleone family had turned up.

Don Corleone's house was littered with family, friends, politicians, and those alike, all of whose faces were twisted into smiles of great elation. In the parlor, the women sat, forming a small mother’s club where they caught up on gossip and talked about their children.

Outside by the courtyard, the men congregated laughing as they took swigs of alcohol, downing drinks that they would definitely feel in the morning. And the kids were everywhere, they absolutely swarmed the place; you could only imagine what the rest of the Corleone house looked like.

It was a day of great joy… it was supposed to be. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to smile or even share the same level of excitement everybody had. It was your engagement party but you had never felt more restless and miserable.

Since the party had commenced a feeling of worry had been toiling in your stomach, which expanded the already deep chasm of doubt, that had managed to grow in size over the passing weeks.

What had started out as a silly afterthought, had now become a horrifying idea.

Is Michael using me?

In the last few months, a slew of thoughts had slipped their way into your subconscious, thoughts that made you question the intentions Michael had for asking for your hand in marriage.

Is Michael using me?

You shot a glance at Michael from your seat, retreating from your thoughts temporarily. He was by his father’s cabinet pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He noticed your prying gaze and met your eyes, he smiled at you warmly.

You smiled back, however, the smile didn’t reach your eyes. Instead, when you looked at Michael a pang of sadness hit you.

You fought the urge to frown as you thought back to the hushed business conversation Michael frequently had with your father after you had gotten engaged, you remembered the look of appraisal in his father, Vito’s, eyes when you were introduced to him as Michael’s fiancee. You remembered how surprised Tom looked when he registered your last name.

It had been right in front of you, all the signs were glaringly red.

Oh, God!

You tore your eyes away from Michael and looked down at your lap. In your lap sat your hands which you fiddled with uncontrollably.

How could I be so stupid? You thought bitterly. It all makes sense now.

Being the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in new york sometimes meant that men took interest in you for the wrong reasons. You also weren’t privy to your father’s business, which often attracted certain types of men.

You knew the ins and outs of your father’s business, the connections he had; connections that a family like Corleone’s would need.

Connections that Michael might need.

No, this can't be.

You swallowed the lump that had been forming in your throat, biting down on your trembling lip to stop the whimper escaping from your lip.

It can’t be…

It was a sickening thought really, that perhaps Michal wanted you for what you could offer and not who you were. Maybe the love between the both of you was synthetic on his part; a mere ruse to obtain financial and business opportunities.

That in itself was bad enough, however, the sting of being used didn’t hurt as much as the sting of not being loved. In your mind, if Michael did love you and was using you, you could tolerate it to some level because at least he loved you. But whether he loved was a question that hung in the air, like a foul stench.

Did Michael love you?

Did he not?

It was painful to think about. You never considered that you would have to think about Michael this way. When you began dating Michael, the idea had never crossed your mind.

Michael had just back from the war and had ended a relationship with a school teacher by the name of Kay, at the time you didn’t know he belonged to the Corleone family, he was very distant about his family.

After dating for a small amount of time you had found yourself utterly taken with him, practically obsessed. He was everything you longed for in a man. He was kind, gentle, and compassionate, he was also highly attractive which helped greatly. When he asked you to marry him you didn’t hesitate to say yes.

Now looking back on it maybe you shouldn’t have been so hasty.

If I had known I was to be a trading piece I would have-

“Y/n, what’s wrong? You’ve been really quiet.” Michael asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had been lingering between the two of you. His voice drew you from your thoughts and you looked up.

He was leering at you from his behind the desk, his face was a mixture of concern and curiosity. By now he had noticed the unease plastered on your face as well as the detachment you had from him. You had been silent for too long.

You looked at him, questioning whether it was wise to lie. Michael was rather receptive when it came to your emotions, he could notice the subtle changes in your mood. He would easily know if you were lying.

“Oh, it’s nothing, Michael.” You said as you shook your head. You opted to lie, knowing he wouldn’t press the matter further unless you gave him a reason to.

You straightened your shoulders and gave him your most convincing smile. “I’m just tired that’s all.” You chalked it down to fatigue, a plausible excuse, after all, today you had been very busy.

Michael nodded, and his eyes dropped from you momentarily. He placed his glass of scotch down on the desk and unloosened his tie. “Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” He asked. As he did so, he released an exasperated sigh.

Your eyes dropped from him, and you looked up to the ceiling. “Ummm, yes.”

No, Michael, I’m not. Are you marrying me for my family’s connections?

The thought fired past the many ones just like it in your head. But you merely ignored it. You sighed and looked away from the ceiling, looking back at Michael.

“How about you?” You said, trying to squash any feelings of doubt.

“Yes, though I didn’t get to talk with a lot of people as I was wrapped up in some things.” Michael walked away from the desk and sat on a chair at the other end of the room.

“However, I actually did manage to talk to your aunts though, rather they found me. We had some interesting conversations.” Michael laughed as he thought back to how your aunts had grilled him about whether big noses are a sign of good endowment in Italian culture.

“The women in your family are quite some characters!”

Michael’s voice filled the room as he continued to talk, he was more talkative than usual. He went on about the party. But his words were met with no replies, you weren’t really listening, you just nodded absent-mindedly at his comments. The bombardment of thoughts had already made it hard for you to hear.

Does he love me?

He says it all the time, but now I’m not sure.

But what else did I expect?

Of course, he’s marrying me for my father’s connections, do you think a girl like me would ever have a chance with a man like Michael if I didn’t have something to offer?

Your thoughts were spiteful and bitter, they pricked at you like a needle. They hurt you greatly but you couldn’t help but conjure them. You couldn’t help but believe they were true.

Your doubts continued as did Michael’s chatter, however unbeknownst to you, he had stopped talking a while ago. He had noticed that you were engorged by silence, this was the second time you had become unresponsive.

“Have you eaten?” Michael asked.

The question went over your head, you were too trapped in your thoughts.

“Y/n?” Michael’s voice suddenly peaked, having to have raised his voice for you to hear.

You jolted suddenly. “Pardon?” You met his gaze again.

“Did you eat? You said you were tired.” Michael was frowning now; it was a frown of concern.

You swallow hard. The room has suddenly become unbearably small as if it’s shrinking. You begin to feel unpleasantly warm.

I’m making a scene. Oh my god. He’s going to notice.

“I umm, I-. Look, Michael. I think I’m going to go home.” You avert your eyes from him after making your request.

You cringe the moment the request slips out of your mouth. It’s crazy, you know it is, it’s your engagement party, leaving would not only seem strange but raise more questions than you care to answer. But you just wanted to go home.

The environment of the party was suffocating, it was suffocating to be around Michael.

“Leave?” Michael questions. You don’t have to look up to know there's a look of confusion on his face, his tone says it all.

“I know it’s a bit early, but I really want to go home.” You say truthfully. “If that's fine with you, that is.” You add in a small whisper.

“No, no it’s fine.” Michael's face softens. “If you feel tired you should go home.” He sounds understanding, and its comforts you slightly.

“I’ll think of an excuse for your absence, but first let me get someone to drive you home, I would do it myself but we both can’t go missing.”

“What are you going to do by yourself?” You ask curiously as you rise from your chair preparing to leave. You feel partially guilty that you’re leaving Michael here alone, but you know it’s for the best until these feelings subside. You wonder if time apart will clear your head.

“I still have some people to talk to.” Michael stands up from his chair, he stretches before fixing his tie. Then he walks over to you, offering you his hand to help you up.

You smiled at him warmly and took his hand, uprooting yourself up from the chair. When you stood up he planted a small kiss on your cheek. It made your smile widen. It was your first genuine smile of the night.

You then looked at Michael, properly this time, taking in the features of his face. There were lines under his eyes, and his hair was a little ruffled. He was tired, very tired, and yet the smile on his face remained when he was around you, a smile of complete adoration.

Surely a man who was using you wouldn’t look at you that way? Could he?

With that thought, you felt guilty. Perhaps you were overreacting, after all these thoughts had come from nowhere, how could you judge Michael purely based on thoughts?

Maybe I am overreacting?

Michael cleared his throat. “Besides I still have things to talk to your father about that are business related.”

Upon hearing that the warmness of Michael’s previous gesture faded away, and the smile dropped from your face. You let go of Michael’s hand immediately. The thoughts came crashing in again at the mention of business and your father.

“You speak to my father a lot these days.” You said with a hint of irritation. The past feelings of sadness were replaced with those of slight anger.

Michael hadn’t seemed to notice the sudden change in your tone. “I have to.” He shrugged. “We have a lot of business to discuss.” He tried to reach for your hand to hold it again. But you kept them firmly to your side.

Your brows furrowed into a glare. “Business, business, hmm.” You snapped. “It’s all my father and you ever talk about!” The last sentence was particularly icy.

This time Michael caught onto the increase of snark in your voice. He looked at you carefully, he was quiet as he assessed the sudden coldness emitting from you before choosing to speak again.

“I suppose so? Your family and mine are working together now, so it only makes sense…” Michael was sure to tread carefully with his words.

“And you know, after we get married it will only continue,” He added.

Your eyes widened immediately, and your mouth fell open.

Oh no.

Michael’s words were practically an omission. In your mind, this was the nail in the coffin. The wave of sadness that hit you was immeasurable. Your worst fears had been confirmed. Michael was only marrying for your connections, he didn’t love you, and he never had.

You didn’t feel the tears streaming down your face until the second one reached your chin. “So you don’t love me?” Your voice cracked.

“What?” The question caught Michael off guard, and so did the tears. He blinked. “Y/n?” This is something he clearly hadn’t anticipated.

You drew a quivering breath, clearing the air that had been trapped in the back of your throat, once it was released everything slipped out.

“How could I be so stupid?” You sobbed.

“I knew that this marriage was beneficial to your family, you have so much to benefit from this, but I never thought you would-!” You were crying at an abnormally loud level. Tears were streaming down your face as you got choked up on your words.

All the while Michael was in a state of shock. He froze momentarily, this fluctuation in emotions had been so random.

“I know what my father does for a living, I’m not stupid, I know his connections are desirable to many people, including you.” Your voice lowered suddenly. The sudden rush of hysteria you had was wearing off, now you were just filled with dejection, complete and utter dejection.

“I know you don’t feel the same I do.” You sniffed quietly. “How could you?”

“After all, I'm just a business venture, a contract… And yet.” You shook your head, stifling a laugh. “I still love you, even if I know you don’t love me.”

It was ironic, funny, almost tragic. You knew Michael wasn’t marrying you out of love or sincerity but you could never stop loving him.

You laughed again. “What am I even saying?” You felt as if you had been rambling incoherently, spewing utter nonsense for what felt like forever, but once you had started you couldn’t stop.

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered. You slumped back into the chair, burying your face into your hands.

Michael had been silent for most of your tirade, dropped to his knees beside you. The realization had hit him. The silence, the melancholy, the distance you had been putting between the both of you, and the reason behind it were all so clear now.

She thinks that I'm marrying her for her connections.

He shook his head and exhaled. “Y/n.” He put his hand on your thigh, caressing it slowly. “I’m disappointed to hear that.” He said sadly.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffed.

“No, no, no.” Michael pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand. “I’m not disappointed in you.”

The disappointment Michael felt was not aimed at you but at himself. A deep shame wallowed in his chest after hearing your confession. He was ashamed that you felt that way, ashamed that he made you feel that way, and ashamed that he had failed to notice.

She thinks of herself as a business venture. Michael swallowed bitterly. His heart ran cold. His guts tangled into a knot. He felt sick. Michael’s mouth went dry as he analyzed you silently. A minute passed before he finally said something.

“Y/n will you please look at me.” He asked softly.

You shook your head, refusing to honor his request. You didn’t move an inch. You were too afraid to look up, deathly afraid to look at his face and whatever expression he had on. You wish he would just leave you to sob in the confines of his father’s office but you could still feel his presence by your chair and you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Michael sighed. He removed his hand from your thigh and placed it on your cheek. You shivered at his touch, but you still refused to look up.

“Do you really believe that I'm marrying you because of your father’s business connections?” Michael’s voice was at a whisper now.

“That’s why you’ve been so distant lately hmm?” He began to caress circles on your cheek. “You believe that I’m doing this strictly for business purposes.”

“And do you really believe that I don’t love you?” He said bitterly.

You cringed, slouching into your chair even more, you wished you could sink into the chaie and disappear. He sounded angry. You began to worry that this would lead to an argument, perhaps it hadn’t been the best to break down at this very moment.

But the next words from Michae’s mouth weren’t ones of anger in fact they sounded quite regretful.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I’m really sorry.” There was great despair in his voice.

“I’ve made you feel as if you are nothing more than a trading piece.” Michael exhaled. He couldn’t remember a specific time or day he had behaved in a manner that made you feel less than, but he clearly had, and it had made you so insecure that you felt as if he didn’t love you.

“Y/n,” He said firmly. He knew he had to rectify the situation, he couldn’t have you believing that he didn’t love you. “My family business is important, but so are you.”

“I care about you.”

“I really do.”

He cares about me? You sniffed.

The level of sincerity was enough to lull you out of your state, but not enough to entirely draw you out. You weren’t fully convinced. He cared about you but did he love you? Did he love you as you loved him? Or was he lying merely to appease you?

Michael was a gentleman but being a businessman also meant he knew how to lie, and lie very well. You only hoped the latter was true. It had to be for your sake.

“You care about me?” You said slowly. Your face rose from your hands, you let out one final sniff, and exhaled, hoping to gain a bit of courage. “But do you love me?” You questioned. You had to know for sure.

“When we get married could you bring yourself to love me? And don’t lie to me.”

You felt your chest tighten as you looked at Michael who was still kneeling on the floor beside you. Your eyes met his, Michael’s eyes locked deeply into yours and you felt small under his gaze but you dared not to look away. Your breath hitched. You had never experienced a heart attack but you were sure this is what it felt like as you awaited his answer.

Michael examined you properly now as you sat up, you were still slightly hunched over in the chair and your hair was down, now ruffled and messy, it covered the right side of your face. Your eyes were puffy and red. The dim lighting of the room cast a shadow across you, heightening the expression of anticipation on your face and the look of worry, as well as dread.

Then Michael finally spoke. “Y/n, I don’t have to bring myself to love you, because I already do, connections be damned.”

“I’ve loved you for so long, even before I asked your father for your hand in marriage.” Michael took your hands from your lap and bought them up to his lips. He planted a small kiss on them.

You looked at Michael as your hands sat stalely in his. Michael held his breath as he watched you look into his eyes, he prayed that you would what you were looking for, what had always been there.

At that moment there was a mutual silence between the two of you. You searched Michael’s eyes for any hint of deceit or duplicity, you prowled for any signs that indicated he was lying, but you couldn’t find it.

In his eyes lay nothing but awe and adoration for you. The look on his face was one of passion and honesty. This wasn’t the face of a man who was lying, this was the face of a man who loved you.

"You really do care for me?' You said quietly. The way the words rolled off your tongue sounded as if you were trying to speak a foreign language. You sounded as if you still couldn’t believe it.

"I do." Michael nodded. "And, once again, I’m sorry that I made you doubt my feelings for you.” He apologized again.

“You want to marry me?” You perked up a little, the warmth was returning to your chest, and your heart rate had begun to still. “You really want to marry me?” You asked again as you squeezed Michael’s hand.

Michael smiled. “Do you think I am the kind of man who would make a commitment to a woman for the rest of my life if I didn’t feel anything for her?” He brushed the hair out of your face and placed it behind your ear.

“Y/n, my feelings for you extend past any business venture,” Michael stated as he leaned and kissed your forehead.

You couldn’t help but crack a small.

Michael loved you.

Michael loved you!

“Can you say that again?” You requested gingerly.

Michael stopped kneeling on the floor and stood up. “Say what?” He questioned, looking down at you.

“That you love me? Please?”

The verbal declaration of Michael’s love for you had washed away all your doubts and lingering worries. Hearing him say three simple words left you feeling euphoric, it felt exhilarating. You wanted to hear him say it again.

“I love you.” Said, Michael. “I’ll say it a thousand more times if you wish.” He smiled.

You nodded. “Yes, do it again.”

“I love you,”

“I love you.”

Each time he said it, a different wave of joy hit you. You wiped what was left of the tears from your eyes and stood up. You leaned into Michael, burying your face into his chest. Michael wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly.

You felt safe in his arms, you felt happy, you felt loved. The feeling lasted all through the night, even when the both of you returned to the party and people asked why your eyes were so red. You didn’t really care though, Michael loved you, that’s all that mattered.

----------------

This story was an ungodly level of long and cringe.

Anyways hope you enjoyed it.

#michael corleone x reader #michael corleone x oc #michael corleone imagine #the godfather #the godfather imagine #the godfather fanfic #the godfather x reader #al pacino #al pacino x reader #al Pacino imagine

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