#they sent me the payment for it this morning and I just placed the order 🥹🥹🥹

[lamentinglover]

A free fuck machine!!?? Holy fuck, Starting the year off strong lol, congrats I’m sure you’ll be busy lol good for you

I KNOW I KNOW I KNOWWWWW OMGGGG

I’m so fucking HYPE it should be here Tuesday 🥹🥹🥹

I’m gonna lose my mind I can’t believe this is happening 😭😭

[jiihu]

𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐋 — 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

﹅ summary — struggling to afford your ever-growing bills, you decide to take up the offer of a woman you met in a café. however, she has one rule; don't fall in love.

﹅ content — sugarmommy!minjeong, age difference, angst

﹅ word count — 3.3k

﹅ a/n — this was supposed to be based off of the song ‘hundred dollar bill’ by lana, but honestly i lost the plot

it was 4 am and you were leaving minjeong's penthouse, your hood pulled up around your head to hide the many crimson marks she'd left littered across your neck and chest. your fingers tightly clutched the laptop that minjeong gifted to you during your first official meeting.

"education is important, sweetheart. take it. it's the least i can do."

minjeong always gave you pricey gifts under the guise of it being the 'least' she could do. coming from a background that was wildly different than hers, it took a while for you to get used to expensive things being the least.

as you stepped out into the quiet, dimly lit street, the cool early morning air sent a shiver down your spine. the weight of the thick, black coat you wore reminded you of the generosity of the woman you had just left behind. minjeong, with her elegant demeanor and enigmatic smile, had captivated you from the moment you met her.

you groaned, rubbing your temples as you looked at the email you received, your semester's tuition due already. "it feels like i just paid this yesterday," you mumbled, your eyes glaring at your phone as if it'd make the payment disappear.

you stood up with a sigh, leaving your bag at the table to place your order at the counter. "just a small tea and milk bread, please." the cashier nodded, pushing buttons on the register before reaching a hand out for your card. you passed it to him, silently praying that there was enough left on your card.

"ma'am? it says your payment was declined." you winced at the volume of his voice, your eyes darting around to see if anyone heard.

"i'll pay for her." you looked up to see a woman with shoulder-length brown hair standing behind you, a soft smile on her face.

"no, it's okay," you turned to the cashier, "i don't want anything." before he could respond, she stepped in front of you, holding out her card. you looked down and saw her passing him a sleek, black credit card and your breath hitched. how much money does this woman have?

"careful. it's hot." her words brought you out of your trance as she passed you your tea, her fingers brushing against yours as you took it. you reached out for your bread, but she'd already turned away and made a beeline to a booth in the back of the store. you hesitantly followed her, hoping that this wasn’t some sort of elaborate scam.

"sorry, this might seem odd, but i overheard what you said earlier. about your tuition." your heart started pounding, suddenly feeling embarrassed about a stranger knowing about your financial issues. "i understand if you're uncomfortable with my intrusion," she continued, her voice gentle and reassuring. "but i couldn't help but notice, and i'd like to offer you a helping hand. no strings attached."

you cautiously took a seat across from her, curiosity mingling with skepticism in your mind. "why would you want to help me?" you asked, unable to hide the hint of suspicion in your voice.

the woman's eyes softened, and she leaned forward slightly. "because i've been there," she replied, her voice laced with empathy. "i know how overwhelming it can be to face financial burdens, especially when it seems like they keep piling up. i've experienced my fair share of struggles, and now that i'm in a more stable position, i believe in paying it forward."

her words resonated with you, your heart fluttering at the idea of no longer having to struggle with money. "thank you," you finally said, genuine gratitude evident in your tone. "but how can i repay you?"

"think of it as a way for me to repay you for your passion for higher education. is that okay?"

you nodded, your heart fluttering as you took in the sight of minjeong. despite being in a dimly lit café, her beauty only seemed to intensify, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of nervousness as she held eye contact with you. the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, intertwining with the hint of minjeong's intoxicating perfume.

conversation continued between you two, minjeong asking about your expectations, and what you wished to gain from this arrangement.

"of course, i don't mind paying for your education. that's what i'm here for, right?"

from that moment on, minjeong had been helping you with not only tuition but also your rent, although you'd basically already moved in with her at this point. her penthouse was filled with your things, from paintings and vases with colorful flowers to clothes scattered around the rooms.

minjeong didn't mind, and in fact, told you how much she loved that you'd practically made the place yours. before you settled in, minjeong's place almost looked deserted, with barely any decoration adorning the walls.

you unlocked your car, collapsed against the seat, and turned on the heat. the instant warmth that enveloped you was a drastic change from the almost half an hour you'd have to wait for heat in your old car. the day after you picked up minjeong to see a movie, she already had a new car waiting for you with a red bow on top in the carport.

"i couldn't let you drive around in that. you deserve something better."

before you could leave, your phone buzzed and you looked down to see a message from minjeong.

'did you leave yet'

you furrowed your eyebrows, your thumbs hovering over the keyboard.

'no'

'is everything okay?'

she didn't respond for a few more minutes and you started to get worried, and shut off the car, prepared to go check on her before your phone buzzed again.

'yeah'

'can you come back up'

"i just left," you mumbled, your eyes starting to feel heavy reminded you of how early in the morning it was.

'minjeong?'

you watched the message bubbles appear and disappear repeatedly until she eventually sent the message.

'i can't sleep without you'

you smiled, your heart fluttering at the thought of minjeong still thinking about you, even after you left. you caught yourself smiling and quickly dropped it. you'd realize sometimes that you're thinking too fondly of her, occasionally smiling to yourself when she plagues your thoughts, which seems like it's on an everyday basis these days.

you jogged back towards the building, speed-walking through the lobby and back to the elevator. you punched in the penthouse button, scanning the card that minjeong gave you as the elevator started its ascent.

once you reached the top level, the doors could barely even open before you saw minjeong appear on the other side. she was standing in an oversized shirt and shorts with a pout on her face before she grabbed your arm, pulling you inside.

"sorry about that. i should've just asked you to stay instead of waiting," she mumbled.

you couldn't help but feel a mixture of amusement and affection at minjeong's pouting expression. her slightly disheveled appearance only made her more endearing in your eyes. you shook your head, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

"it's alright, minjeong. i don't mind coming back at all," you reassured her, your voice soft. "i'm happy to be here with you."

minjeong's pout faded, replaced by a soft smile that quickly faded into an indescribable expression. she didn't respond and instead led you further into the penthouse, her hand still holding onto your arm as if you'd turn around and leave any moment. the air was filled with a sense of familiarity, the scent of her perfume mixed with your own wafting around the rooms.

as you settled into the comfortable bedroom, minjeong gestured for you to sit on the bed while she headed into the closet. "i'll get you a change of clothes, hold on."

you nodded and watched as minjeong disappeared into the closet. the room seemed strangely quiet, and a wave of unease washed over you. you couldn't help but wonder why minjeong's expression had shifted so suddenly. had you done something wrong?

lost in your thoughts, you absentmindedly toyed with the hem of your coat, your mind replaying the moments you had spent with minjeong. the intimacy you shared, the way she made you feel special, and the genuine affection that seemed to bloom between you—it all felt too good to be true. you found yourself longing for more from her, even if you didn't want to admit it.

moments later, minjeong returned with a fresh set of clothes for you. she handed them to you without a word, her eyes avoiding direct contact. you felt a pang of anxiety in your chest, the weight of the silence becoming almost unbearable.

"i hope these will fit," she finally spoke, her voice lacking its usual warmth. "you can change in the bathroom."

confused and slightly worried, you took the clothes from her, carefully making your way to the bathroom. as you closed the door behind you, you leaned against it, trying to steady your racing thoughts. something was definitely wrong, and you couldn't shake off the feeling that something bad was going to happened.

slowly, you changed out of your clothes, the unfamiliar tension in the room making even the simplest tasks feel heavy. when you emerged from the bathroom, dressed in the fresh clothes minjeong had provided, you found her sitting on the edge of the bed, her gaze fixed on a distant point.

"minjeong, what's going on?" you asked softly, your voice tinged with concern. "you seem… upset."

she let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping. finally, she met your gaze, and the vulnerability in her eyes made your heart ache. "i think we need to talk," she said, her voice laced with sadness.

a sense of dread settled in the pit of your stomach. you slowly approached her, sitting down next to her on the bed. "talk about what?"

she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out, her jaw visibly clenching. "actually, can we talk in the morning? i'm really tired right now."

"minjeong."

"please," she looked at you, almost pathetically, her eyes pleading with you to drop it. you sighed, walking around her room to tuck yourself into the right side of the bed. you felt the bed dip as she laid on the other side, feeling her eyes on the back of your head before she pushed her arm under your head, her other hand coming to rest on your torso.

"i'm sorry," you barely heard, her voice not even an octave above a faint whisper.

you woke up the next morning to no sign of minjeong. not even the faint smell of her perfume lingered in the air.

"minjeong?" you called out, sitting up from the bed and looking through the doorway to the kitchen, hoping you'd see her there. you stood up, walked out of the bedroom, and looked all over the house for her, your heart pounding once you realized you'd looked everywhere.

you sat down on the couch, your hands slightly shaking as you laid your head against the arm of the couch. "fuck, she probably knows."

"i know what what?"

you jumped up, startled at the sudden sound of a voice. "minjeong? when'd you get here?"

you turned around to see minjeong standing by the entrance of the living room, her eyes filled with concern as she observed your distressed state. relief washed over you at the sight of her, the worry in your heart beginning to subside.

"i've been here the whole time," she replied softly, stepping closer to you. "i heard you calling my name. everything alright?"

you let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding and walked toward her, your steps cautious but filled with a mix of relief and confusion. "i… i thought you were gone. i couldn't find you anywhere," you explained, your voice wavering slightly.

minjeong's expression softened, and she reached out to gently cup your face with her hands. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to worry you," she said sincerely, her thumbs brushing against your cheeks. "i needed some time to gather my thoughts, and i didn't want to burden you."

a mix of emotions flooded through you—relief, understanding, and a touch of lingering unease. you leaned into her touch, feeling the warmth of her hands against your skin. "i'm glad you're okay. but minjeong, please remember that i'm here for you. you can talk to me," you reassured her, your voice filled with genuine care.

minjeong's eyes softened, gratitude evident in her gaze. "thank you, sweetheart. i appreciate your understanding."

"also, what did you want to talk about last night?" minjeong's eyes hardened at your words, before it was gone almost without a trace, a gentle smile taking its place.

"nothing. it was silly." you looked at her, part of you wanting to press her about it, but the other part scared to bring it up in case it upset her again. "by the way, i found a newly built bathhouse earlier that we could go to. if you're interested, of course."

you raised an eyebrow. "bathhouse? i thought you hated those?"

"i do. but i know you like them." you nodded, smiling at her.

"i'd love to."

you lay down in one of the hot rooms, the steam enveloping your bodies as you both sought solace and relaxation. minjeong's arm served as a makeshift pillow behind your head, providing comforting support. the heat from the sauna seeped into your skin, creating a soothing sensation amidst the tense atmosphere.

as the minutes ticked by in silence, the weight of minjeong's words lingered in the air. you could sense her restlessness, her desire to address the topic that had been weighing on her mind. it was clear that she wanted to talk about something, and the uncertainty of it all made your heart pound in your ears.

minjeong's question stayed in the back of your mind, the weight of unspoken feelings lingering between you. but at that moment, as the steam swirled around you and the gentle sound of water echoed in the background, you both made an unspoken agreement to set aside that conversation for now.

instead, you decided to embrace the present moment and enjoy the tranquility of the bathhouse. the soothing heat of the sauna enveloped your body, relaxing your muscles and melting away any tension. you found solace in the simple act of being together, the unspoken understanding between you becoming a comforting presence.

as you reclined in the sauna, minjeong's arm still resting behind your head, you allowed yourself to fully immerse in the serene atmosphere. the sound of your steady breaths intertwined with the soft murmurs of other bathers, creating a sense of peacefulness.

occasionally, your eyes would meet, and a shared smile would pass between you, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken bond you two shared. words were not needed in that moment, as minjeong's eyes held the emotions that she could not express.

in the bathhouse, time seemed to lose its meaning. minutes molded into hours as you moved from one relaxing room to another, your conversations never about any serious topics. the hot springs, the cold rooms, and the aromatic steam rooms gave you relaxation that the both of you needed.

you relished in the intimate moments, the stolen glances, and the gentle touches that spoke volumes without the need for words.

as the day continued, and the bathhouse began to quiet down, you found yourselves back in the soothing embrace of the sauna. the warmth of the room cocooned you, making you forget about minjeong's words. at least, for now.

you leaned against minjeong's side, her presence both making you nervous, but also comforting. as you closed your eyes, a contented sigh escaped your lips, and a peaceful silence enveloped you both. in that moment, it didn't matter that the conversation about your feelings remained untouched. you assumed that she opted for showing you, not telling you.

"should we go home now?" you nodded, picking your head up from minjeong's shoulder. the two of you walked back to the locker room, enveloped in a casual conversation about dinner. "hey, can you go to the grocery store and get us some rice and pork belly? you can take the car, i'll call a driver."

"of course," you replied, a gentle smile on your lips. the thought of preparing a meal together felt comforting and familiar, and it could also be a way to finally get minjeong to say what's been on her mind lately. "i'll go to the one right down the street."

leaving the building, you made your way to the car and drove to the nearest grocery store. after you reached the parking lot, you sent minjeong a text.

'is there anything else you want'

you waited for a response before you went inside until about 5 minutes had passed and she hadn't responded. you tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest, putting your phone away and entering the store. as you shopped around for what you needed, you also picked up a few snacks from the shelves. "this looks like something minjeong would eat," you mumbled to yourself, putting random items into the cart.

you looked down at your phone again after you reached the register, hoping to see a response from her, but she still hadn't responded. with the groceries in hand, you returned to the car and began the journey back home. you tried to ignore the nervousness you felt, trying to only focus on the idea of making a meal with minjeong.

however, as you arrived at the penthouse, a sense of unease washed over you. you hesitantly stepped inside and realized, once again, minjeong was nowhere to be found, and the usually inviting atmosphere felt empty and devoid of her presence. a sinking feeling settled in the pit of your stomach.

walking past the living room, your heart sank further when you found a note left behind on the kitchen counter.

my love,

i couldn't find the words to tell you in person, so i'm telling you here. it hurts me to write this, maybe even more than you, but i've made the difficult decision to leave.

please understand that my intentions were never to cause you pain. you have brought immense joy and love into my life, and for that, i am eternally grateful. but there are emotions within me that i have been battling with, emotions that i find myself unable to express—to fully understand.

in our moments together, i have felt feelings that i have never experienced before. the way you touch my heart, the way you see into the depths of my being, it both exhilarates and terrifies me. and it is this fear, this overwhelming sense of vulnerability, that has made me decide to leave.

please know that my decision to leave is not a reflection of you or our relationship. it is a reflection of my own inner struggles, and my own need for clarity. i need time for myself, to find the courage to open up to you in a genuine way.

i’ve paid the rest of your tuition, and left some money aside for you in case you choose to further your education. you’re free to stay here as long as you want, but in case you don’t—in case the memories here are too much to bear, i’ve paid your rent for three years.

i hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, to understand that this is not a rejection of our love, but rather a painful step towards growth. i promise you, with every fiber of my being, that i will return when i am ready to share my heart completely and when i can give you the love and honesty that you deserve.

please take care of yourself, my love. hold onto the memories we have shared, and know that my absence is not an absence of love, but a necessary journey for us both. you have touched my soul in ways that words fail to capture, and for that, i will forever be grateful.

yours truly,

minjeong.

[strniohoeee]

Pick Up

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Opting to walk home late at night, Y/N occupies her time by calling someone from her past. But will they pick up?

Warnings⚠️: None, this is a filler imagine so it’s SHITTT. Mentions of being drunk and high (weed). Cigarette use and that’s all🤍

Song for imagine: Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High?- Arctic Monkeys

Now it’s three in the morning

And I’m trying to change your mind

Left you multiple missed calls

And to my message, you reply

Why’d you only call me when you’re high?

Stepping out onto the uneven payment, my heels wobble in the cracks as I balance myself. Sniffling and shivering as I pull my jackets closer to my body. The sound of more bodies shoveling out of the club.

Walking to the curb as I wait to order an Uber home. Kicking gravel off the sidewalk as I try to recollect myself. Too many drinks and too many pulls from a joint I was blinking fast. A stupid attempt to get my eyes to feel not so heavy.

I pull out my phone and open my contacts letting my finger hang over the one person's contact I should’ve gotten rid of a long time ago. Taking a deep breath I slide my hand into my purse and pull out a cigarette. An American Spirit to be exact. The best ones to smoke while you were a bit drunk. At least I thought so…..

“Wanna head home with me” I heard from behind me, turning over I offer a smile to my friend

“Oh no I’ll just Uber home” I said to him, placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it as he leans over to light mine for me

“Thanks” I mumble as I take a long drag

“You smoke up all my weed and you won’t even come home with me?” He asks laughing

“Your party tricks don’t work on me sir, you gotta be smarter than that” I replied laughing

“At least I can say I tried” he said laughing too

“Hey! Listen, thank you for inviting me out tonight. I really needed that” I said to him as I tap my cigarette and watch the ash fall

“Of course! You know I got you. Whenever you’re feeling down just hit me up” he said smiling at me

“I love you” I say taking one last pull from my cigarette

“I love you too Y/N. To better days and to better men” he said nudging my arm with a smirk

“Amen” I reply hugging him

Tapping the cigarette out with my heel as I watched him get into an Uber with a guy and a girl….. man was he a slut. Waving bye to him as I pull out my phone again.

Stepping back from the curb I lean against the light pole as I pull my phone out again. I mean I could just walk home. It was probably a 20-25 minute walk. A nice phone call and a nice breeze? I opted out of the Uber.

Using the excuse of “it saves me money”….it was only a $8 Uber ride….whatever! I began my journey home. The only issue I thought was the pain my feet would be in, in about 10 minutes.

Dragging my tongue over my teeth I let out a sharp breath of air and looked down at my screen. My finger once again hovering over that one specific contact. I shouldn’t….but who cares…..but we haven’t seen each other in so long…..don’t do it…do it….

I shook my head and hit call mobile…..

Christopher🩶 calling mobile…..

My heels clacked against the pavement rapidly as I waited for him to pick up. The ringing sent shivers down my spine.

“I’m sorry the number you have reached is not available-“

I hung up before it could finish. Groaning to myself out of annoyance but also embarrassment. I opened the iMessage between us…. An honestly embarrassing history.

Christopher🩶

Why don’t you ever pick up?

Read 2:53am 1/20/23

Chris I miss you😔

Read 9:46pm 1/26/23

Helloooooo you never pick up when I call

Read 11:11 pm 3/10/23

Ik it’s been a while, but at least answer me…

Read: 5:03am 5/26/23

Do you ever miss what we had?😕

Read 4:23am 5/27/23

Chrissssssss answer me🧎🏽‍♀️

Read 12:56am 7/19/23

I’m with Nick and Matt…..

7/19/23 1:02am

I miss you Christopher🖤

Read 1:15am 7/19/23

It’ll pass.

7/19/23 1:16am

Why do you never pick up!

Read 4:47am 9/17/23

Are you drunk rn?

9/17/23 4:47am

Maybe a little tipsy, but 100% high

Read 4:48am 9/17/23

Sorry I never stop calling, I just miss you

Read 2:08am 10/31/23

Merry Christmas🤍

Read 8:15am 12/25/23

Wish I was celebrating the new year with you

Miss you <3

Read 12:10am 1/01/24

January 1st, 2024 12:10am

Pick up.

Read 2:39am 02/12/24

No I’m not proud of this, but once I was under the influence I couldn’t stop my fingers from moving. No, I never texted the next morning to apologize because the following weeks and days I’d do it all over again.

But somehow seeing the ‘read’ logo pop up made my heart hurt just a tiny bit more. Shaking my head I kept walking. I had another 18 minutes till I was home. Suddenly my phone started buzzing. I looked down and I was immediately anxious

Incoming call

Christopher🩶

I decide to pick up, placing the phone against my ear as I wait for him to speak.

“Hello?” He says in a question

“Hi Chris” I say back more excited than him

“You alright?” He asks me

“Of course I am” I said back

“Where are you right now?” He asks me a bit concerned

“You don’t get to ignore me for a year and then ask me where I am” I said in a slurred way

“You’re right I don’t, so bye” he said instantly which caused me to freak out

“No no! Sorry I’m walking home” I said to him

“Walking home? Now? At this hour? With who? Where were you?” He asks frantically

“I’m alone and I just came from a bar. I’ve had a bit too much to drink and a bit too much weed” I responded giggling

“I can pick you up” he says to me

“No don’t worry I’m almost home plus the streets are quite tonight” I say back to him

“Well stay on the line with me till you get into your apartment, got it?” He says sternly

“Yes sir” I reply back giggling

“Why’d you call?” He asks

“The same reason I’ve called and texted constantly. I miss you” I said to him

“Well why’d you only call me when you’re high?” He asks

“High? Why’d I only ever call you when I’m high?” I asked a bit taken back

“Y/N, you never call me at normal hours other than Christmas. It’s always party hours and it’s always “i miss you” you only call and text when you’re high and drunk” he replies a bit annoyed

“I just happen to be under the influence when I want to share my love with you” I reply sniffling

“You never text me or call me when you’re sober. Are you scared to talk when your mind is completely clear?” He asks me

“What? No….” I say in a whisper

“I think you are….” He says back

“Well how come you never answer me then?” I reply back

“Because I’ve moved on” he says flat out

“Moved on?” I ask as I turn a corner trotting closer to my apartment complex

“What we had was great and of course I miss you, but we’re over. And I can’t be the crutch when you’re drunk and high” he says

“I don’t need you to be my crutch” I respond rolling my eyes

“Then you would call me when you’re sober” he replies

“Whatever” I say back getting angry

“No reason to be mad” he says laughing a bit

“I’m not mad” I say back instantly

“Well then is that all you needed to get off your chest?” He asked me

“Yeah that’s all” I say back sternly

I cross the street and walk towards my apartment complex. Opening the glass door and walking into the lobby. My heels click hard and fast as I stomp over to the elevator. Getting up to my floor and walking into my apartment.

“I’m home” I say bluntly

“I’m glad you’re safe” he responds

There was a moment of silence. Chewing my lip as I kick my heels off and throw myself down on my couch.

“So you don’t miss me?” I ask him looking up at my ceiling

“Of course I do, but we just weren’t meant for each other” he says in a huff

“Weren’t meant for each other…” I repeat back lowly

“Well yeah, we always argue and we just never saw eye to eye” he said back

“I suppose that’s true” I say to him

“What exactly is it that you miss about me?” He asks a bit intrigued

“I miss your smile, and your eyes, your silky hair, I miss your laugh. I miss the stupid shit you’d do…..I just miss it all” I said as I smiled to myself

“Drunk words are sober thoughts” he said laughing a bit

“But you’ve known this” I said to him

“I suppose so” he replied back

“Well anyways I’m home now, it was great hearing your voice. I’ll leave you alone now” I said to him sitting up and running my hands through my hair

“Yeah it was great talking to you, but just do me one favor. Stop calling me.” He says and my heart shatters

“Uh..yeah okay” I say in a whisper as a lump forms in my throat

“…..stop calling me when you’re high. Call me tomorrow morning when you’re sober” he says laughing a bit at me

“You asshole you scared me” I said giggling

“I’m sorry, I was just messing with you” he said laughing

“Whatever, but fine I’ll text you tomorrow morning” I said to him

“Good and maybe we could meet for lunch” he says

“Ouuu a date?” I say wiggling my brows

“No! Just catching up” he says scoffing

“Sure thing” I say, he giggles and we say our goodbyes.

Hanging up the phone as I toss it on the couch. I open my patio doors and step out. Lighting my cigarette as I look out into the quiet night sky.

Taking a drag I let it all sink in. All my embarrassing texts and calls to him eventually led me back into his life. Taking a drag as I exhale through my nose. I was such a hot fucking mess, but at least the pieces were slowly falling into place.

I just couldn’t understand why I’d only ever call him when I’m high…..

The End

This was just a short imagine to fill in for the fact I’ve been MIA for two weeks. This was ass, but I’ll put out better shit in the next coming days. I love yall dearly 😋🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

[marymary-diva17]

New start in life (4)

bridgerton x reader

The ton was all in the buzz since the return of two former scandals member of London high society. Two years they had been gone and now they have returned, back to London after the rumors behind them proven false. Not everything is the same as it was left when the two had been outcast by their families, friends, and society itself.

y/n " my dear husband I'm going to pay a visit to madam Delacroix, along with the other shops"

Tristan " have fun my love as I will be out as well attending some clubs "

y/n " do you wish for me to come"

Tristan " no I will be good my wife and if you buy anything send, the credit to the home and I will buy for anything my wife heart wishes for"

y/n " thank you" you had kissed Tristian forehead before you had left the home with a maid with you as well, your first stop of the day was the dress shop.

Madam Delacroix " y/n"

y/n " hello madam Delacroix it has been a while hasn't it"

Madam Delacroix " yes it has and I have been told you are now a viscountess, that lives in Scotland"

y/n " yes that is true after the scandal was apart of I had left here, and married Tristain"

Madama Delacroix " you and him make a perfect match may I show you some of, my newest fabric colors and patterns"

y/n " yes please"

Madam Delacroix " what is your colors shades blue like the rest of your family or something new"

Y/n " I still have some blues dress but now have gone with colors like purple, red, and green, pink, few others"

Madam Delacroix " well it always comes a time when a young lady blooms into her own person, and I have fabrics that will be perfect for you"

y/n " thank you" Madam Delacroix had shown you some fabric patterns, that caught you eye and that you dressed you pay. After showing you some design and getting your measurements, the dress orders were place.

madam Delacroix " the orders will be sent to your home"

y/n " thank you and payment will be sent today and after the orders are done"

madam Delacroix " thank you and y/n"

y/n " yes"

Madama Delacroix " it good to have you back with us" you had smiled and nodded your head, as you soon left the shop. You are walking down the street passing by some, members of the ton nodding your head to them.

Maid " ma'am they are acting like they are seeing a ghost are all London ton like this"

y/n " well my dear it has been two years most of them are shocked to see I even came back"

maid " umm well I will say Scotland it far better then London" you had laugh at your maid comment, as the pair soon went to walking on the cobblestone road.

????? " sister" you soon looked up to see your sisters and Penelope making walking towards you.

y/n " hello you three how are you doing this morning"

Eloise " good now being at home after last night balls hasn't been happy"

Francesca " what our dear sister will love to say is that our dear brothers, are having a hard time understanding you are married"

y/n " it will take them so time but they will come around soon"

Penelope " None of your brothers should be looking down on you mostly Colin"

y/n " come lets walk before anyone else decide to speak some nice words to us" the group had soon walked into the park as you looked at Penelope.

y/n " so what has Colin said now Penelope that got you so mad at him"

Elosie " she overheard him laughing about her with some other young man"

y/n " my brother the fools well they are all fools expect Gregory"

Francesca " I miss life in bath but now I'm here to get married"

y/n " well I prat for you three but if London man don't do well there are enough fine, young man in Scotland"

Francesca " sister are you become a match maker"

y/n " maybe I was just giving a suggestion"

Elosie " well sister I will still take the offer to Scotland when it comes, as it will get me far away from here"

Penelope " if leaving had done y/n well maybe it will be good for us as well"

Francesca " I have to agree as well"

Eloise " oh dear here comes mama"

????? " y/n" you soon looked and saw hyacinth and Gregory running up to you, they both soon hugged you once they got close. You had huge them back as well.

Y/n " oh I have missed you both so much and look how big you both had gotten"

Hyacinth " sister we are happy you are home we heard the wonderful news, that you are married to Tristian and live in a big manor"

Gregory " yes you also live in Scotland as well came we come visit you and stay for a while"

Violet " children clam down we should wait until your sister invites us over for a stay, or she might move here to be closer with us"

y/n " Well I have spoken with my husband we don't mind having some family staying with us"

Gregory " that wonderful sister where is Tristan"

y/n " away doing the task of the gentleman of the ton"

Daphne " oh so he will run into Antony and Simon"

Kate " yes they had gone off there with Colin and Benedict"

Y/n " oh that sounds wonderful"

Gregory " How long are you going to be here sister"

y/n " for a good amount of time until we need to return back home, and attend to business there my loves"

Violet " you don't have to rush back home you can still be viscountess and live here"

Y/n " I think it will be best if we return back to Scotland as we are need there, and it will be rude if we leave and move here"

????? " good day everyone" the group soon looked to see the Cressida cowper and her mother standing there.

Y/n " Lady cowper and Cressida good day"

Cressida " good day Viscountess Y/n I never thought you will come back, until last night and married to Tristen as well"

Y/n " yes while we were gone we had gotten married"

Lady Cowper " Violet did you attend your daughter wedding"

Violet " no I didn't it was when she was due to go live in the countryside, but we have been talking about another wedding for all the ton to see"

Lady Cowper " oh such a shame to miss your child wedding, oh viscountess y/n do you have any children"

Hyacinth " do you sister do we have other nephew or niece"

Y/n " no there are no children yet but we hope for some soon"

Lady Cowper " oh that good but dear it was such a shame of what happened to you and Tristian being betrayed by your families, but I thought bridgerton sticks together no matter what right Violet"

Violet " oh look at the time we all most get going come along everyone good day Cowpers" Toilet had moved the group away from the mother and daughter.

Elosie " well mother if you hope to avoid anymore scandal on the family name, that might not help"

Daphne " hush Eloise"

Elosie " I was just speaking the truth"

Violet " my daughters we don't need to fight we need to stand together as a family untied"

Y/n " Untied under what cause"

Violet " the cause of you and Tristan"

y/n " mother there is no need as I remember it not good for me to bring shame and poor reputation to our family"

Daphne " sister what was said that night was taken out of turn"

y/n " that is what you think duchess when I myself think other wise, I think it best if I take my leave right now"

Hyacinth " no sister don't leave please"

y/n " don't cry my sister we will see each other again"

Violet " dearest please don't go I didn't ..."

y/n " good day everyone" you had soon crusty to everyone as you soon walked away you, with your maid fowling as well she gave the older women a cold glare but a warm smile to everyone else.

Later that night

Tristian " hello my wife"

y/n " my husband welcome home how was your day at the clubs"

Tristan " well it was going well I have have some drinks with Will, who is enjoying his life in ton"

Y/n " good for him and his family the news of that made me happy for them"

Tristan " yes everything was going well then Bridgeton brothers and Simon had shown up"

y/n " oh well I was out shopping when I ran into my sisters and Penelope, too. being joined by the rest of the family"

Tristian " oh"

Y/n " we then ran into the Cowper family as well lady Cowper, had some words for my mother and me as well"

Tristan " The cowpers are still the same I see so not that much as changed"

y/n " that is so true my husband so tell me more about your day"

Tristan " well it seems like Antony wishes that we never married, by the looks he was giving me last night rumors going around is that he had some suitors planed for you"

y/n " Antony with match making that is a big jest"

Tristian " it seems like none of your brothers love the idea of our marriage, Simon seems to be coming around I don't know ... if we look at it no one can say anything about our marriage mostly Antony and Simon"

y/n " yes after what happened when they were getting married and Antony past relationship as well"

Tristian " oh yes Siena Rosso the opera singer didn't she come to Scotland"

y/n " yes I had been invited by some of the ladies at home and attend, I ran into and we talked she is doing well"

Tristian " good now what this matter on another wedding for us"

y/n " the ton and our families are mad we got marriage without them there"

Tristan " well I love the weddings we had we don't need a redo"

y/n " what if I wanted another wedding husband will you deny me that wish"

Tristian " no my wife if you wish it then I will make it happen" you soon laugh as you looked at your husband.

Tristan " you jest with me don't you"

y/n " yes I do"

Tristian " that why I love you"

y/n " I hope you do love me or you have been living with me for two years, for nothing"

Tristan " I will live the rest of my life and the next life by your side"

y/n " mister charming I see I'm lucky that none of the ladies, of the ton noticed this behavior before we were married"

Tristian " They will never have my attention or heart like you do, and it seems like the males of the ton are upset that I ended up with you as wife a smart and beautiful women'

y/n. " well everyone lost their chance and we are better fit for each other anyways" the couple had smiled at each other no matter what anyone, tried to do they will never break their marriage vows and marriage as well. They will stay with each other for the rest of their lives and soon enough, make a family of their own as well.

[precupid]

like a fool ─── (twenty.)

HEESEUNG SENT A TOTAL OF FOUR TEXTS TO HIS GROUP CHAT EARLIER.

heeseung [1:24PM]: any good boba places.

beomgyu [1:24PM]: gongcha <3

heeseung [1:30PM]: fuck you.

heeseung [1:31PM]: yk gongcha is EVIL

heeseung [1:31PM]: my rival and arch nemesis works there.

jeongin [1:32PM]: he was so mad he didn’t reply for a good 6 minutes

Now, usually Heeseung would reply to that, but because he’s stumped, he won’t reply. Or rather, he can’t. He scoured the entire map of the Metro Vancouver area and can’t come up with a good place to get you boba.

Like the genius he is, Heeseung picks 9 different local boba places and places 9 boba orders. All of the drinks are similar in base, topping, and sweetness and ice levels. Thank God his mom’s payment came through that morning.

One by one, the boba orders show up in the lobby, and every time, Heeseung takes the elevator up and down to grab them. He’s pretty sure the concierge thinks he’s insane, but there’s no helping that. Heeseung is kinda insane. For you, at least.

At exactly 4PM, Heeseung gets a text that wakes him up from his mid-day nap.

my rival (don’t reply.) [4:00PM]: good luck.

my rival (don’t reply.) [4:00PM]: don’t fuck it up

heeseung [4:02PM]: lol love the drag race reference

Tossing his phone to the side, he realizes that you should have already been home. He laid down around 2PM, which means at 3PM, you should have gotten home and the two of you should have had all eighteen bobas together.

Heeseung gets up, frazzled, and ends up kneeing a hard rock-like surface at the side of his bed. A groan emits from the rock and he realizes he just kneed you in the head.

“Jesus Christ,” you mumble. “Is this how you wake someone up?”

Heeseung watches as you get up slowly and rub the spot he kneed. You slowly make your way on to the bed and rest your head on his pillow, as he frantically gets up and rushes to the kitchen for some ice.

What an idiot!

First, he doesn’t plan your first date, then he knees you in the head on your second date. He must look like a complete fool.

“Are you okay?” Heeseung asks once he’s sitting next to your form, holding a sandwich bag of ice to your head. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were there—“

“Can you kiss me now?” you interrupt his sentence, your tone sounding almost irritated. “I’ve been waiting all day.”

Heeseung immediately shuts up and places a hand under your chin, his thumb running against your bottom lip slowly. You make eye contact for a brief second and Heeseung can’t help but take a mental photo of you. You’re obviously flustered, your hair fanned across his pillow, your eyes darting back and forth between Heeseung’s eyes and lips. You’re beautiful. The view alone makes Heeseung breathless.

As he leans down, you get up and his forehead bonks against yours and you fall back down, groaning.

“Heeseung!”

“Sorry! Sorry! Don’t get up,” he mumbles in apology. His eyes close as he closes the gap presses his lips to yours. Your lips are soft and you taste like a minty cherry lip balm. He can feel the palm against your cheek begin to sweat, hopefully you don’t notice. Heeseung’s heart is racing faster than ever—he’s afraid he might die on the spot.

You, on the other hand, seem so relaxed compared to him. You pull him closer by the collar, smiling slightly. You don’t seem as flustered as Heeseung, but when he pulls away and rests his head in the crook of your neck, he can feel just how feverish you are and how your heart rate is just as fast as his, if not faster.

“Be mine?” he asks, lips brushing against the skin of your neck.

You laugh, “Yes. But I’m scared—“

“I’m not scary, I promise!”

“Heeseung, you kneed me in the head.”

“Accidentally!”

You laugh again and Heeseung can tell you rolled your eyes playfully. Patting his shoulder, you mumble, “Get the boba now.”

“About that… I may have ordered eighteen drinks for just the two of us,” Heeseung states.

You narrow your eyes in thought, “Are you like a fool, or something?”

“Yes. A fool for you.”

Bursting out into laughter at his confession, you bring yourself to confess also, “I’m also a fool for you.”

Heeseung would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the least bit giddy at what you said.

(nineteen.) / masterlist / (twenty one.)

summary. who cares if you’re desperate? who cares if you’re pathetic? who cares if you’re a loser? pay them haters no mind, because your roommate, lee heeseung, is gonna fall for you one day! fortunately for you, that day may be sooner than later.

taglist. @heesexual74 @tynlvr @wildtigerlili @pshfan0812 @aewon @heelovesmeknot @nicoleparadas @celli-ohs @beijinkaoya @tkooooop @enhypenlovre @rairaiblog @hexnoia @sucrosxi @heeheesang @mariwasneverthere @mwahvvis @starry-eyed-bimbo @leehsngs @firstclassjaylee @ningningiloveumarryme @danielleism @httpenhoon @strayy-kidz @bbsantc @immelissaaa @simjaeyunies @naevisringring @fa1rychain5

[depressedbagpipe]

Ka-Chaow (Charles Leclerc x female!reader)

Chapter one

Words: 3310 Warnings: mentions of alcohol and being drunk (guys, please, don't drink alcohol), some anxiety thrown in there, a couple of bad words, google-translated italian A/N: it's lights out and away we go! welcome to my crazy world in which i got into f1 right when the season was ending and now i can't wait to see every race. also, cause I'm still kinda new and I'm not Italian, any mistakes that i make in regards of *everything*, feel free to correct me, and be nice about it ;) A/N (II): italics are thoughts and phone calls and the email, bold and italics are messages, just bold is the location ;)

Series Masterlist Next chapter

Chapter one

London, November 18th, 2022

The weight of my bag was the only thing preventing me from sprinting to my desk. Several manuscripts I had yet to finish, together with my laptop, and all my personal items, hung from my shoulder as I made my way into Mr. Williamson’s wing. I cringed at the sound of my heels over the polished floors, making various heads turn my way as I sprinted by as fast as I could. 

Eventually, I got to my desk, conveniently placed just outside Mr. Williamson’s office. The slight clutter was hastily thrown away with a flick of my wrist, making space for my bag, and turning my computer on at sprint time. A quick glance at the office before me told me Mr. Williamson hadn’t arrived yet. Thankfully. 

Checking my wristwatch, I sighed in relief at the time. 

9:32 am. New record. 

Now relaxed, I took a seat in my uncomfortable chair and started typing away on the keyboard, going over all the emails and meetings I had to schedule for the day. 

Half an hour later, Mr. Williamson showed up.

‘Good morning,’ he said in his usual hoarse morning voice.

‘Good morning, Mr. Williamson, would you like your usual coffee order?’ I asked in rehearsed practice.

‘Yes, please,’ he responded, struggling to open his office's glass door.

‘You gotta push,’ I noted while I grabbed my coat and my wallet, trying not to laugh.

‘Right,’ he grumbled, finally opening the door and leaving it open. 

He stumbled a bit over the expensive rug, looking around before taking a seat on his bigger and far more luxurious desk. His briefcase fell over when he placed it on it, dangling over the edge, and only once he was fully seated, I left my post.

That’s how every morning went for the past year. I would arrive in time –usually–, be ready at my desk until Mr. Williamson came in late –usually–, make sure he got to his seat in one piece, and go down to the ground floor where the company’s private Starbucks had its own space. 

One Americano, and one iced vanilla latte to go, please. Once again, those words were deeply burned in my memory. 

‘How is he doing this morning?’ Jeremy, the morning barista, asked as he took the order.

I shrugged, swiping the company card over the payment terminal. ‘Still pissed off drunk.’

‘So, the usual?’ he chuckled, motioning me to the end of the bar while Amanda, his workmate, made the drinks.

We both leaned over the counter separating us, talking in hushed voices, so the other customers wouldn’t listen to our conversation.

‘Honestly, I don’t know how much he can go on like this. I’m starting to feel bad for the guy.’

‘Girl, he cheated on his wife, and she rightfully left him. If he deals with his own mistakes by getting wasted every night, it’s up to him,’ Jeremy sent me a pointed look.

I bit my lip. ‘I know, but you should see him. It stopped being funny eight months ago. Do you know how many meetings I had to reschedule because he wouldn’t even pick up his phone? And I don’t mean his personal phone, I mean the company phone in his office. All he has to do is press a single button and talk,’ I winced at the memory.

‘Here you go, have a nice day!’ Amanda gave me the drinks, and I smiled gratefully at her. 

‘Well, as soon as he keeps ordering Americanos, I’m not complaining. I’ve doubled my hours here solely based on his caffeine ingest. And you know how much I need the money, so he better keep those orders coming,’ Jeremy winked.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. ‘If he ends up in rehab, I’ll blame you.’

He shrugged. ‘Fine by me. He’s an asshole.’

I laughed with a small shake of my head. ‘Bye, Jeremy! See you in a couple of hours!’

Getting back into the elevator, I made a mental note of everything that had to be done that morning. Meetings, meetings, and more meetings, until either Mr. Williamson got fed up and left, or I dropped in exhaustion for a quick nap.

The walk back to my desk felt longer than usual, the hefty workload of the week finally catching up to me as it normally did every Friday. I left my own coffee on my desk and quickly gave my boss his Americano, to which he merely responded with a grunt. He had his sunglasses on and was massaging his temples as if his life depended on it. 

Making a face at his state, I bent down and took off my heels, knowing the constant clicking would be painful in his hungover head, and went back to my desk, making sure the door to his office was closed. Grabbing the phone, I was quick to cancel the first meeting he had in ten minutes.

With a sigh, I grabbed one of the manuscripts and resumed my reading, reading every page twice and making sure no typo was missed. 

It was both a blessing and a curse, working at Ink’n’Paper. We were one of the world’s leading publishing houses on all sorts of literature, and consequently, the huge workload that we bore was overwhelming. Ink’n’Paper had been my first and only real job in the publishing industry, starting as an inexperienced intern and working my way up until I became the assistant of a household name in Historical Non-Fiction. It hadn’t exactly been my first option, non-fiction, but the pay was good, and I was desperate to prove myself. Next thing I knew, it had been three years since I’d started, and I was pretty much the only one making sure the whole department didn’t burn down due to my boss’ sudden neglect.

It was a few hours later, still sometime before the end of my workday, that I –or rather, Mr. Williamson– received the email. I had been managing all his accounts ever since the very first day he stumbled into the office completely drunk, Vodka bottle in hand, and screamed how much of a cunt everybody was on that floor, and then passed out on his rug, not before puking all over himself. After the embarrassment and degrading task of cleaning, not only him, but his rug too, I had taken over his entire life, managing even his dental care appointments for him, knowing he wouldn’t even be showing up to half of them.

I was surprised at the sender, for the name was oddly familiar. Maurizio Arrivabene.

Frowning, I quietly opened the message.

‘Buonasera, Stephen. I know it’s been a while, but as you’ll understand, these past few years have been a rollercoaster here. I was actually thinking about your past offer, and I know I’m a year too late, but I would love to look into it more. I’ll be in London next week after the season’s over, maybe you’d like to have some coffee (or tea, whichever you prefer), and talk about the book? I know here at Ferrari we need some push, whatever results we get this weekend. I look forward to hearing from you soon. Take care, Stephen. Sincerely, Maurizio.’

I widened my eyes at the email. Maurizio Arrivabene. Ferrari’s old team principal. I quickly gathered my planner and a pen and pushed open Mr. Williamson’s office door. Thankfully for me, he now seemed much better.

‘Sorry, Mr. Williamson?’ I took a few tentative steps toward him.

‘Yes?’ he lowered his spectacles, halting his typing on his keyboard.

‘You’ve received an email from one Maurizio Arrivabene,’ I pronounced his name in a heavy accent, the same way my dad would whenever he talked about his homeland. ‘Something about a book offer, maybe?’ 

His face broke into a smile. ‘Oh, Maurizio!’ he stood up from his seat. ‘I haven’t spoken to him in a while! How is he?’ he asked me. He still reeked of cheap alcohol.

‘I don’t know, sir, but he wants to meet with you next week.’

He clapped. ‘Fantastic, schedule a meeting with him.’

I coughed. ‘Well, the thing is, he sent an email to you, directly. I believe he’d like something more casual,’ I said, yet I opened my planner to check his schedule.

‘Well, then, I shall phone him immediately!’ he grabbed the phone on his desk, and rapidly frowned. ‘What’s his number again?’

I pursed my lips. ‘He didn’t write any, sir. I think you shall write to him directly.’

‘Of course! Let me just…’ he sat back down and typed something on his computer. ‘What was my email again?’

I groaned soundlessly, quietly making my way to him and fastly typing his correct credentials. Standing closer to him, I noticed the many wrinkles in his suit and the many hair strands that fell on the wrong side of his side part. Shaking my head, I pointed at the email.

‘There it is.’

‘Okay, when am I free for tea?’ he responded after a few seconds, his eyes reading over the words.

‘Well, you did cancel three meetings with the entire Editorial Department so… I rescheduled them for next week, but you should be free Friday afternoon after work,’ I checked all the time slots available, scribbling down the possible dates.

‘Why couldn’t we meet on a weekend? We don’t work on weekends,’ he said.

I paused. ‘You don’t work on weekends. I do. And I’m guessing this is a possible job offer, therefore counting it as part of the workweek at least allows you a free meal covered as company’s expenses,’ I recited off my head. Too many times I have said that.

Mr. Williamson widened his eyes. ‘That’s brilliant! You’re right, let’s schedule for next Thursday.’

‘Friday.’

‘Friday. Wow, who taught you that?’ 

‘You did, sir.’

‘Well, I’m a genius, then.’

‘If only you were sober enough to realize that,’ I muttered as I finished writing on my planner. Louder, I replied. ‘Remember to save the day and respond to the man. Don’t keep him waiting.’

I walked back to the door. Mr. Williamson nodded his head. ‘Will do!’

With another sigh, I sat back on my chair, cracking my fingers before typing in the response to Maurizio Arrivabene on behalf of Mr. Williamson, and making sure to set reminders in his calendar for every day of the week until his tea date. 

The pay is good, at least. 

—

‘You should have seen him. I mean, he’s like a toddler!’ I complained from my spot on the couch. 

‘I don’t know how you keep working like that, you’re basically a babysitter at this point,’ my mother said from the other side of the phone.

I hummed in agreement, looking up at my feet. They dangled from the other end of the couch, as I took up the entire space by laying down. ‘Honestly, I don’t know what to do. I told Rosanna from Human Resources to notify me whenever there was a new vacancy, but it’s been months.’

‘Honey, I can’t tell you what to do, but do you think head editor is the right job for you?’ she asked. 

I stopped. ‘I think so. I mean, I’m good at it.’

‘Yes, but do you like it?’

I paused again. 

That question had been roaming in my mind for months. At first, the job had been nice. Reading manuscripts for a living, correcting the mistakes, meeting with the authors, and getting to know them first-hand… Again, maybe historical non-fiction wasn’t what I originally envisioned my future like, but the pay was good enough to get me my own apartment and to live independently. At the rate the economy was going, I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. 

But then Mr. Williamson had suddenly neglected his own job when his life started spiraling down, and I had been the unfortunate soul to try and collect the pieces of his broken person. I was suddenly managing, not only my life, but his, and needless to say, he wasn’t an easy person to handle. Despite the many conversations to get him to sober up, every morning was a complete wild card, not knowing whether he would even show up, and if he did, would he be conscious enough to work.

On the bright side, thanks to his many absences, I had learned how to manage the editorial department pretty much completely on my own. I knew the names of every single worker, even the janitors and the night guards working late shifts. I had written, rewritten, corrected, presented, contacted, hired, fired, and despite knowing I was perfect for said role, my heart still longed for something different. The reason why I even had studied Creative Writing all along. 

‘But only writing doesn’t pay the bills’, Mr. Williamson had said one morning, a month into my newly appointed role as his assistant. And ever since then, I had almost forgotten about my own dream of becoming a novelist. 

‘What do you think I should do, then?’ I asked her.

‘Honey, you’re old enough to make your own decisions,’ she laughed.

‘Mom, I need your advice! I know I’m old enough but right now I’m at a crossroads!’ I complained, lifting my arm and covering my eyes with it. 

‘You know what I think about writing for a living,’ she mused.

I groaned. ‘Yeah, I know it’s not your cup of tea, but I promise, I’m good. Great, even.’

‘I wouldn’t know, you never let me read anything.’

‘Well, yeah, it’s embarrassing.’

‘You need to get over that eventually, honey.’

‘It’s easier said than done,’ I sighed. ‘Besides, everything I have written so far was just reports and boring commercial synopsis for historical books, unless you really wanna read that…’

‘Honey, whatever you choose to do, just make sure it makes you happy. And that at least you’re getting money out of it.’

I took a deep breath. ‘I think I need to sleep this one over.’

‘It’s probably for the best. Let me know, whatever you do,’ my mother said. ‘I gotta go now, book club starts in fifteen minutes and I still gotta walk by Linda’s house to return her copy. Will you be fine?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Good. Wait, your dad wants to talk.’

‘Great.’

‘Hey, chicken pie!’ I chuckled at my dad’s voice.

‘Hi, dad,’ I smiled.

His tone was excited. ‘You’re seeing the practice?’

I nodded before answering, my eyes glancing at the TV, where the first day of race weekend was airing from the Yas Marina circuit. ‘Of course, I am. Not paying much attention, though.’

‘Well, nothing interesting so far. You wanna FaceTime tomorrow for quali?’

‘Yes, please,’ I groaned in delight. ‘I wish I could be there to watch it with you, though.’

I could hear his smile through the phone. ‘It’s alright, chicken pie, I know you’re busy lately. Everything alright with your boss?’

I could hear my mom yelling at him in the background of the call. 

I bit my lip. ‘Ask mom, she got all the details. Shouldn’t you be leaving for book club too?’

It was his turn to groan. ‘Don’t remind me.’

I laughed. ‘What was it?’

‘To Kill a Mockingbird. No bird in it.’

I audibly laughed at him. ‘Please, don’t say that out loud, you’ll be banished from the club.’

‘Oh, what a pity would that be,’ he said in his most mischievous voice possible. ‘Wish me luck, Principessa.’

‘Ciao, Papà!’ I laughed, finally ending the call in a fit of giggles. 

Shaking my head, I leaned my head back on the pillow and continued watching the practice, remembering the puzzling email addressed to Mr. Williamson. 

Multiple explanations littered my head as to how on earth Mr. Williamson knew someone as Maurizio Arrivabene, both from such different spheres, but then again, Stephen Williamson had always been a renowned author and an even bigger editor. It was possible that both men had coincided at some point in history, but I tried not to dwell much on it. I had a week until I found out what the fuzz was about. 

Groaning again once the free practice was over, I finally stood up from my couch and walked towards the small kitchen, opening the fridge in hopes to find something available to eat. Some leftovers caught my eye, and with a shrug, I took them out, threw them in the microwave, and sat down back on the couch once the food was warm enough to eat. 

Browsing through HBO for something to see, I settled on my annual rewatch of Parks and Recreation, anything to get my mind off the horrible week I just had. 

My phone pinging broke me out of my daze. Wiping my hand clean on my dirty pajamas, I quickly read over my friend Angela’s message.

‘You shouldn’t check Alec’s Instagram story, but I also think you should.’

With a frown I opened the app, seeing the familiar purple-ish circle around my ex-boyfriend’s face. The video was enough to bring a few tears to my eyes. His arm was around some other girl, and her crimson-painted lips left stains all over his cheek. His smile was wide, and he looked quite happy, wherever he was. 

I rapidly closed the app off, throwing my phone to the other end of the couch, now in desperate need of a glass of wine just to forget what I had just seen.

Breaking up with Alec had been hard, but seeing him off with someone else was even harder. Not only two months ago we were talking about living together, and now it felt like I was seeing a stranger through my screen. My job had been slowly taking over every aspect of my personal life too, and while I couldn’t blame Alec for feeling neglected all of a sudden, especially after three years together, it still hurt. I still missed him every night, morning, and any other time in between. He had been my best friend for so long, and one of my main pillars ever since I stumbled out of college, completely lost, and in frantic need of guidance in the adult world. We were both still kids that had become adults together, and I was having a harder time than I wanted to admit to trying to forget about him. 

Taking a big breath, I closed my eyes, touching the soft couch in an attempt to ground myself. 

Big breath in, big breath out. 

After a few minutes, I felt myself calm enough, resuming my dinner and my binge-watching, now more than ever desperate for sleep after the intense day. Technically I had every weekend off, but I still had many manuscripts and emails to send the next day, thankfully from the comfort of my own home. 

It was only in bed that I allowed myself to relax, turning off my phone, and grabbing my crochet set. It was a habit I had picked up lately, something so far out of my field of expertise, yet so relaxing once I got the hang of things. Working on my silly bucket hat every night before sleep was pretty much the highlight of my existence. And I was so invested in it, that only after I was finally done with it I realized I had been sitting for three hours in the same position, my eyelids dropping and my back hurting. Getting the needles out of the way, I finally laid in bed, and it only took a few minutes to fall soundlessly asleep.

—

A week later I found myself in the same position, crocheting a summer top in my bed, late in the evening after yet another exhausting week, when I received Mr. Williamson’s message. 

‘Book a flight to Italy. We’re going to Maranello.’

Next chapter

General Taglist: @angiewhoohooo, @azaleaniath

[lily22223]

How Food Ordering System Works?

Hey there, food lovers! Today, I want to talk about something that has truly revolutionized the way we enjoy our favorite meals: the online food ordering system. Whether you’re a busy professional, a student fuelled by late-night cravings, or just someone who loves good food without the fuss of cooking, this technology has really changed the game.

So how does this magical Food Delivery Solution really work? Well, grab a snack, sit back, and let me take you through the process.

The Basics of the Food Ordering System

First off, let’s break it down. At its core, a Food Ordering System allows you to browse through a wide range of restaurants from the comfort of your home (or wherever you may be) using a food delivery app. I mean, how convenient is that? No more flipping through takeout menus or wondering what to eat!

When you open up a food delivery app, you’re greeted by a beautiful interface showcasing different cuisines, dishes, and enticing imagery that makes your stomach grumble. You simply select what you want, customize your order if needed—maybe you want extra cheese on that pizza or hold the olives on your salad—and then it’s time to check out!

Placing Your Order

Once I’ve made my fiery decision (I always go for the spicy options!), I head to the checkout. This is where the Food Ordering System impresses me the most. It usually offers a variety of payment options, from credit cards to mobile wallets, making the process smooth and hassle-free.

After I place my order, it’s sent directly to the restaurant. Here’s a neat trick: the food delivery app often lets you track the order in real time. I’m a huge fan of this feature because I get to know exactly when my hot, delicious meal will arrive at my doorstep.

 The Magic Behind the Scenes

Now, let’s talk about the behind-the-scenes magic of the food delivery solution. Once I hit ‘place order,’ the restaurant gets notified and starts preparing my meal. Meanwhile, the app assigns a delivery driver—sometimes called a courier—who’s nearby and ready to take my order to its final destination.

This is where technology truly shines. The food delivery app uses GPS to route the courier efficiently, ensuring my meal arrives as quickly as possible while still being fresh and hot (because, let’s be honest, no one enjoys lukewarm pizza).

Delivery and Enjoyment

Finally, my dessert’s on its way! I get notifications along the way, and when that doorbell rings, it’s music to my ears. I can’t help but smile as I sign for my food and unpack it like it’s Christmas morning. All that’s left is to dig in and savor every bite. 

Wrapping it Up

So, there you have it! The life-altering experience of an online food ordering system, laid out for you. Whether you’re enjoying a quiet night in or throwing a dinner party, a Food Delivery Solution is just a few taps away.

[maddasherxxbeautyroom]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: GET NOTIFICATIONS WHEN I GO LIVE | FOLLOW PRICE DROPS!.

[naughtynoodle056]

Context is that my old job fired me for extremely unfair reasons a month ago (I argued that we shouldn’t be open because the store was flooding with dirty sink water, it was completely disorganized (more on that later), and the only tablet that took card payments that worked had a POS update. I had to give a customer that did not speak very much English his food for free because I couldn’t explain to him that our card reader was down and none of the other FIVE TABLETS we had worked at all. (We had mentioned the original payment tablet was down but the bosses never fixed it). I was only even at that store in the first place because I got moved last minute because the guy originally scheduled to work that morning quit on the spot when he saw the mess. The mess was because the bosses insisted that they didn’t close early on their last day at the pop up shop at a college nearby. So by the time the deep cleaned the college kitchen and pack and moved the equipment to that store, it was like midnight and no one had the energy to reorganize everything.

So like after that they were mad about a $14 order (the man and his daughter who wanted some waffles but oops put tablets were down and we down take cash at all) even though I TOLD them what was going on, sent photo and took videos, and was going to pay for the food myself when the tablet started working again. The boss kept ignoring my alerts about the flooding and the cluttered messy store to whine about the unpaid order. The order we COULDNT pay for after exhausting all options because the only table that worked needed to update the POS system ans the original one was never fixed. Then they snatched me off the schedule the week before Christmas completely and ignored me when I asked about hours. Then after the health department came in, saw the absolute state of things, and shut it down completely, I was silently fired. No one called me, I was just logged out of the work app and when your name is marked as unavailable in there? It means they were fired. (My bf could see from his work app).

So my bf was still there after I was fired, but was looking for other jobs on the DL because I wasn’t even supposed to BE at that location that day, I was only moved last minute because a guy quit. Plus they’d been pretty shitty to me before. They didn’t believe me when I said there was something wrong with the temperature of the waffle makers, that they weren’t getting hot enough ans it was taking twice as long to cook. It wasn’t until my bf came in the following day and confirmed for himself that something was up.

Anyways, they shut down the location that actually had the best reviews and that I worked at the most. They told my boyfriend that they were gonna cuz he had been there for like 3 years, but they kept playing me like it was just a temporary thing with the phrasing as if??? My bf and I??? Wouldn’t talk about it???? So like, just last Friday was payday. That morning at 7am the boss says that theyre getting physical checks this time, no direct deposit. I’m immediately suspicious, because mind you, direct deposit usually hits at like 2am at the latest. A couple times it even hit on 11pm that Thursday evening. So the fact that super last minute it’s a physical checks the boss is delivering in person??? Extremely suspicious and even foreboding to me. He gets his check, and it’s short. SIGNIFICANTLY so given the hours he worked. They reassure him that he’ll get the rest of it + his usual check this week.

Sometime last week the boss had him doing interviews. I acknowledged it and asked why they were making Him do it, but he was optimistic and said that they were probably thinking of making him a manager again soon. I was more cynical and felt like they just couldn’t be bothered to do it themselves. These ARE the same people that made him and another coworker that they ALSO fired on some bullshit organize a whole catering order to be delivered 45 minutes away even though they, the bosses, had the list of potential delivery drivers and their phone numbers, not the early 20 something crew members. They made them do it because they knew as bosses they’d get ripped a new one for only offering $50 flat rate for like a 3 hour trip because not only was it a Saturday so weekend traffic, but a MARATHON was going on in the city that day that was screwing up traffic for a while. We all barely made it to work on time for that very reason!! It was the most insane thing I’ve ever seen in my life and my old manager called a coworker a slut to her face😳

Presumably, he woke up this morning to a text or call that he’d been axed. After all of that. So like, obviously i was scorned on my own right. I got no hours right before Christmas and my saving grace was that I’d been saving.

Bf and I couldnt have a date one day because he got moved last minute after a creep they hired got kicked out of the college for being a misogynistic asshole (as far as I know he has Ben been fired yet btw.) Bf had to cancel another date day because he lost his hours after the health department closed that location. Bf had to return the gifts he got me because he couldn’t afford them after the accursed job slashed his hours as a result of the store getting shut down by the health department. Which could have been avoided if the boss hadn’t insisted they not close earlier so they could clean up and move everything back in a reasonable amount of time. Oh and did I mention that the bosses presumably made the last minute decision to just not open that store for a week because the college pop up was busy as hell. But they didn’t think to Yknow. Take care of the food in the Fucking Refrigerator. So that day that the other crew member came in and quit on the spot, it was also because there was Spoiled Chicken and Fish and Shrimp in the fridge. Because of fucking course there was, the bosses have their heads so far up their own asses they Couldn’t see the very glaring issue with flat out neglecting one store for another. We were supposed to visit an arcade last Friday but they shorted his check. We were gonna get maybe $20 in chicken wings today, super chill shit, and he gets fired.

Needless to say I’m getting pretty fucking fed up because I am a creature capable of nuance, observation, and critical thinking. It’s really obvious here that it’s not my boyfriend who’s purposefully trying to play with my feelings, it is the accursed chicken job that keeps fucking up so badly it’s having a ripple effect.

Today was the final straw, because he was so fucking happy not even a week ago and then they do this, i can only imagine how he must feel.

So TLDR my shady ex job fired my bf who’s been a loyal employee for 3 years and I’m scorned even tho the accursed chicken job is the reason we even met in the first place, so I’m barely resisting the urge to leave a scathing review or two about real shit thats happened and been an issue there because HOW FUCKING DARE YALL

Although admittedly given the check thing I can’t help but get the weird feeling they’re either about to go under or are desperately cutting costs (like firing ppl they have to pay more lol) to avoid going under for another year. IDK man, maybe run your businesses better next time.

Oh, and another thing. Dont talk down to me just because I’m a doe eyed short 24 year old when YOU AS A GROWN ASS 40 YEAR OLD MAN DONT KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A VEGAN AND A PESCATARIAN LMAOOOOOO NIGGA RESLLY THOUGHT I WASNT GONNA CATCH THAT SHIT, FUCK OUTTA HERE

I am saying this on tumblr on my NSFW because people think this site is dead, who here tryna do something that’s probably unethical with me in the name of pure revenge⁉️⁉️⁉️

[sillymiya]

tldr; 🚫 COMMISSIONS 🚫

Hi friends, I just wanted to pop in and get something off of my chest that’s been weighing me down this morning and to explain why I will not be taking commissions. First off, I’m extremely appreciative of all the support and encouragement that I have received from friends, family, and strangers that enjoy the art I create, and am truly grateful (and honestly surprised) that anyone would want to commission me as an artist. I started drawing as a hobby a little under two months ago, so my style is still evolving and I am still learning how to hone my craft. I share my art on social media in the hopes that it will bring a little bit of joy and color to peoples’ day with the full understanding that my art is not for everyone (and that’s 100% okay; it doesn’t bother me) and that I am still at the beginning of my art journey. In full transparency, my art is available for purchase via the links in my bio, but I have never treated anyone differently regardless of whether the support given to me was monetary or non-monetary. Again - I am happy if people simply enjoy the art I create and fully understand that there are people who do not/will not like it.

Someone recently reached out to ask if I would accept a commission for them as a gift to their family member, and being the newbie that I am to art, I was super excited and wanted to do this for them free of charge to express my gratitude. They said they didn’t want free work, so I humbly expressed my appreciation and waited for reference photos. I don’t want to get into the nitty gritty details of the DM or post receipts because I don’t feel that it’s necessary, but after sending them the completed drawing and resizing it to their liking, the conversation more or less ended up with them berating me about me not being responsive (not true), which then (for whatever reason) changed to me expecting them to respond faster (also not true; I have a full time job and respond to inquiries as soon as I am able and understand that people have lives), and they also went from (allegedly) loving my work to also pointing out that the drawing was not “done right”. They also decided to tell me they wanted two drawings after expressing they were “disappointed” with the one drawing that I had already sent. I ended up saying sorry that the drawing wasn’t to their liking,  referencing my art style in my posts, as well as telling them they could keep the drawing anyway (or not), free of charge as I initially told them, and complimented the subject that I drew. I wrapped up the conversation reiterating my gratitude for their request in the first place and their response (among less pleasant things) was, “that why I don’t deal with free work.” I wasn’t expecting a ‘thank you’ but I definitely wasn’t expecting *that* either, considering they were still (to my understanding) planning to gift my drawing to their family member after writing the recipient’s name on my drawing.

Should I have provided a payment link to them before starting the piece instead of assuming they could locate it themselves via my links? Yes. I didn’t have a firm stance on whether I would take commissions at the time, but this experience has solidified that for me. I let my excitement, naivety, and desire to provide a pleasant experience for someone out of the goodness of my heart rose-tint the reality of what would technically be (I guess) a business transaction.

I started drawing as a creative outlet and as a hobby that helped me to alleviate the stresses of daily life, and wanted to share my art in case it could do the same for others. While I will not be accepting commissions in order to protect my well-being, I am open to receiving technical feedback and requests for what you’d like to see as a subject in my art (which I may or may not accommodate). If you’ve read this far, thank you for taking the time out of your day to hear me out. And if you’re just skipping to the end because you wanted more context than the tldr; - thank you so much for the support and if you aren’t a fan of my art, thank you for stopping by.

Hope you have an amazing day 🤍

With gratitude,

miya ⊙ᴥ⊙

[sexy-rex]

Happy 10/10 Fox day to all my fellow Fox Fiends

I wrote a small drabble to mark the occasion.

Fox’s day starts out better than expected

It wasn’t yet light and there are very few people around this early in the morning. He doesn’t bother putting on his helmet as he makes his way through HQ and each of the Guards he passes gives him a nod or a smile or a quiet ‘good morning Commander Fox.”

He wasn’t meant to be in duty yet but Thorn had been caught up in a situation with two Senators, which he promised he’d fill Fox in on later, but that led to Fox having to cut his sleep short and take over Thorn’s shift in the prison.

If he was going to function on less than three hours sleep, then he needed the good caf and not the sludge that came out of the machine in the mess hall.

His feet automatically took him to his usual place and he stared forlornly at the closed sign for a good few seconds, before someone tapped him on the shoulder.

“Commander, this place doesn’t open for another two hours, but there is some where that is open.”

Fox wasn’t sure what this troopers name was, there’d been such a turn over recently that it broke his heart. The sooner they arrived from Kamino, young and full of life and excitement, the sooner Coruscant sucked them dry and sent them back defeated and broken.

He must have looked at the young trooper for a little too longer without saying anything, because he shuffled awkwardly on his feet.

“Would you like me to show you where it is, Commander?”

Fox smiled grateful: “Lead the way.”

They walked in silence, but it was a companionable silence, and when they turned the corner and Fox saw the welcome warm light from the caf house windows, he thanked the trooper and asked for his name.

Even if they weren’t destined for long on this sith spit planet, he’d make sure to remember as many of them as he possibly could.

He’d still been thinking about the injustice of it all, when he pushed open the door and stepped inside, the warmth of the air contrasting wonderfully with the coolness of a few moments before and he stands there breathing in the scent of the freshly ground caf.

The few people inside looked up as he entered and it was then that he realised he hadn’t put his helmet on before entering, but they just smiled at him and he —- well he wasn’t used to civilians smiling at him, so he pulled on his helmet and headed straight for the counter.

The women smiled at him too: “What can I get for you, Commander?”

The only way she could know he was a Commander, was if she was familiar with their uniform, and that kind of knowledge only came with spending time with clones.

“I’ll have a double shot of whatever’s brewing.”

She moved about getting his order ready and he pulled out his credit chip ready the pay.

“Your credit’s not needed here.” She said, glancing over at him, and he froze.

He hadn’t seen any “NO CLONES” signs in the window, but then he hadn’t looked, he’d just walked in a over to the counter, but the civilians had smiled at him, and so had she, and they wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t welcome.

“I don’t understand, why don’t you want my credit?”

He must have sounded gruffer than he’d intended because her smile slipped slightly, but then she looked sad. Sliding his caf in a take away cup on the counter between them, she pointed at a chalkboard sign that clearly read:

“ALL GUARDS DRINK FOR FREE!”

The word Guards was written in red and white, like a candy cane.

“You protect us day in day out, all hours, this is least we can do.”

Fox was speechless.

This woman cared enough about his troopers that she would keep this caf house open all night to provide them with a safe haven and a necessary supply of caf.

“We’re not the only ones either.” She went on. “There are quite a few places throughout Coruscant now that don’t ask for payment and stay open for however long necessary.”

He’d never heard of this.

There was more than one place that did this?!

“We want you to know how much we appreciate what you do for us. I know it isn’t much, but it’s something.”

“It’s everything,” he croaked in response, his throat closing up a little at this completely unexpected kindness that had bowled him over from his blind side. “Thank you.”

“No, Commander.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

He stared at her dumbfounded for a long few moments, and then the outside door opened again, and a new customer walked in, shaking the cold off themselves.

Fox picked up his take away cup and turned away.

“I hope you come back again, maybe you could try one of the freshly baked cakes next time?”

“Thank you,” he said again, his brain reeling from the idea that there were good people on Coruscant who appreciated and respected what his troopers did for them on a daily basis.

The new customer smiled and him and wished him a good day, and he nodded back.

“Thank you.” he said yet again, and he genuinely meant it.

He’d started the day thinking that it would just be run of the mill, but it had been so far from that already. It gave him hope that today would be a good day after all.

It gave him hope that maybe Coruscant wasn’t so cursed after all.

[wiypt-writes]

Consciousness Of Guilt

Chapter 19

Summary: The countdown to your wedding is on, but something is bothering Andy…

Warnings: Language, adult themes, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer. I do not consent to my work being translated or posted elsewhere. If you see this fiction on any site other than Tumblr it has been taken without permission.

W/C: 5.2k

A/N: So, this is the first chapter in part 3. And we’re into the final third of the story…eeek

Consciousness Of Guilt Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 18

It was the first Friday night in a long while where Andy had told Ron he was going home early. And it was wonderful.

The final countdown to 'I do' was on with just two weeks to go. Last weekend you'd had your bridal shower and hen do, this week you were sitting with Andy on the couch with drinks in hand and Grant's head in your lap. Andy was working away on his laptop but not on his next brief. Tonight, he was finalizing your wedding budget and payments.

You were focussed on the TV, watching a rerun of Law And Order, Andy not caring for the series much as he said one of the characters reminded him too much of Logiudice. You loved it, the over dramatic representation of what you did on a daily basis made you smirk. Grant gave a little yawn as he flipped over, all four legs in the air, ears flipping against your legs and you chuckled, scratching his belly.

Andy side glared at the exchange and gave a huff through his nose. The rule used to be no dogs on the couch, and now, there were no fucks given, from you or the damned dog, in a war he'd never won to begin with.

“Daddy’s cranky.” You spoke to Grant, a teasing tone to his voice and Andy turned to you.

"I’m not cranky."

“Your face says otherwise, Counsellor.

He rolled his eyes and promptly placed them back on the screen in his lap. "Angel, we've paid everything in full, right?"

“Yeah, the last settlement was the venue and I did that yesterday morning.” You sat up a little, frowning. “I checked the amount before I paid and after, they didn’t overcharge us. Is something wrong?”

"Not sure. Either your dad transferred us too much or I didn't balance something right because there's far too much money still."

“Want me to have a look? See if I can spot something?”

It did amuse you, slightly, that Andy was the one getting wound up about all the arrangements. There was no Bridezilla, just a stressy Groomsaurus who was adamant the day was going to be perfect.

You took the laptop from him and settled it in your lap, passing your wine off to him in exchange. The numbers looked right, everything was ticked off as paid or set aside for day of expenses. It looked right, but Andy was correct, the balancing figure at the bottom wasn’t zero, it was in the plus.

“Hmmm,” you picked up your phone and logged into your online banking, bringing up the joint savings account details. “Nope, nothing pending, it’s all gone out. Did you check how much dad actually sent in the first place, because that would be the simplest way of, you know, figuring it out.” You bit your lip, smirking at the glare he shot your way. You tapped through to your joint bank account that had been opened especially for this purpose and you chuckled, turning it back to face him.

"Dad overpaid, Bb.”

“Well, I…I just… fahk. I spent all that time trying to work it out. Why didn’t I think of just checking the damned account?”

“Because you’re getting yourself so wound up about it all, there’s really no need.” You shook your head, “it’s gonna be fine.”

He grumbled a little and set your drinks down, pulling the laptop from your lap.

"Fine, no more wedding stuff," he shut it and set it on the coffee table. "If your dad wants to be a smug bastard and overpay then fine. I just hoped everything would be perfect for you. For me. For us. I don't plan on doing this a third time." He sassed.

“Oh, stop being a dick,” you scoffed, “Dad probably just wanted to make sure we had enough just in case, and it is going to be perfect. We’re going to be husband and wife and live happily ever after in our huge farm with hundreds of dogs and chickens and maybe some ducks…”

At that he howled with laughter, "there is no way that's happening."

“Err, yes it is.”

"Angel, at a push I'll give you the farmhouse, but I'm drawing the line at the fucking Ark!”

“What’s the point of having a farm with no animals?”

"I didn't say no animals, I said no to the amount. We're not saving the world from a thunderous flood, Y/N."

“We might be, climate change is a bitch.”

"Y/N...." his tone was laced with frustration, the way he spoke your name was snippy and you groaned inwardly.

"Andy, what's the matter?"

“I just…forget it, it doesn’t matter. You want another drink?”

"No."

He looked at you for a second before he shrugged. “Fine,” with that he rose, grabbed his empty beer bottle and made his way to the kitchen.

You let out an angry snort, before you followed him, jolting Grant from his lazy sprawl on the couch.

“Andy, I don’t understand what the issue is. We can offer what’s left back to dad or just keep it saved for a rainy day. You said you were happy for him to pay. I don’t understand why you did that if it was such a big issue to you.”

"It's just a lot of money," He argued, but you could tell this wasn't the root problem. He was avoiding your eyes, instead focussing on sorting himself another drink.

"Andy," you spoke softly, stalking over to him to pry the opened bottle from his hands. "You're hiding." Your gentle hand raked through his beard, "what is it? Please talk to me."

He leaned into your touch a little, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath. “I just, well, I didn’t have to think about it all that much last time. It was quick and cheap and, I know that’s not the point, but… I guess, fahk this is going to sound so stupid…”

"I'm listening." You spoke softly and encouraging.

“Well, the last time I had to do any sorta budgeting or shit like this to this extent was when I was funding Jake’s defence,” he spoke softly, “figuring out how much of his supposed college fund and our life savings keeping him out of jail for murder was gonna cost. Whether we were going to lose the house, and…”

He trailed off, his head shaking slightly and you felt your heart break.

"Oh, Andy.”

“And I know, it’s ridiculous, I get it I just…I don’t know.” He finished, shaking his head as his brows flicked up. “I am happy, honey, I really am. I can’t wait to marry you, this isn’t about that. It’s just made me think a lot about him, and whilst I think about him all the time, God knows I do, this just feels different.”

“You’re missing him because it’s a milestone.” You looked at him, “it’s a huge day for you and one your son should share. Although, I know there are things…” you trailed off. It didn’t need saying that had Jacob still been alive, or had you not been through your ordeal at the hand of Ransom, then you two wouldn’t be here having this discussion. That was a sick twist of fate the pair of you knew only too well. “Look, that’s not important how things would have worked out. The fact is they are what they are and it’s okay for you to feel this way.”

"Angel..." He sighed. You were right and clearly he knew it. "I'm sorry. I just don't know what to do here."

“I wouldn’t expect you to, baby. It’s not something you ever anticipate having to deal with.”

"But I think I want to see him," Andy confessed shyly.

“Okay, so go.” You shrugged. “Book a flight and go.”

"Yeah, I'll talk to Ron, arrange it. Maybe see if Jo and your dad are around for a drink. It'll only be a couple of days."

“It doesn’t matter how long it’s for,” you shook your head, “I can always come with you for a weekend, or mom can come here. It’s fine.”

"No, I know," he pecked your forehead, "I'll figure it out. We have two weeks until we get married and I can promise you, I'm ready for it." You watched his eyes glisten. "I just miss my son."

“Oh, BB.” You sighed, “come here.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close. Immediately, his arms wrapped around your rib cage and his face pressed into your neck.

“You know, you're not alone in feeling a bit strange about all this,” you gently kissed his check before you returned to your previous position, head resting against his as his arms held you close.

"How so?" He sniffed, wiping his eyes as he pulled back.

You shrugged, “it’s strange because this is the first time I’ve planned a wedding, but not the first time I’ve been married. I’ve stopped even trying to explain now and just tell everyone it’s my first one when they ask. Like, last week, when I had my final wedding dress fitting.” You looked at him, “I started trying to explain I didn’t know what I really wanted but it had to be different to last time. Then when she asked me who made the last one I had absolutely no idea.”

Andy's lips tweaked in a smile of understanding.

"Andy, I know it's not the same, but in a weird way I understand. The person I was before you doesn't exist anymore. It's like I'm living a rebirthed life and I'm experiencing it all for the first time."

Andy licked his lips, and you took a deep breath.

“Do you remember the first nightmare I had with you? When my parents were visiting."

He nodded.

"I was back in that house, that place. My dad was there, he was walking me down the aisle and I thought I was walking to you, it was you, and then I blinked and it was.... It was him and you were gone. The fear I felt in that moment broke me, and I screamed out for you and you were right there all along. I've relived my nightmares just to be with you and have this beautiful life I have now."

You sighed and a fresh beat passed before you spoke again.

"I don't exactly know where I was going with this, and I'm sorry for turning it into something about me, but I assure you that there was supposed to be some sort of guiding light in there somewhere," you snorted and chuckled dryly.

Andy took your hand in his and pressed a kiss to your knuckle, just above where your engagement ring sat. “I get it, honey. Thank you.”

You smiled and then Andy’s eyes turned down as two paws landed on his upper thigh. “What do you want?” He asked Grant who sat back down, his tail wagging.

"He knows you’re blue," you smiled.

Andy looked at you then to the dog, smiling. “That so, pal?”

Andy, for all his grumbling about your pet, loved him just as much as you did now the annoying baby stages were over. But you played along, pretending not to notice when he was alone in the kitchen or garden with Grant, lately teaching him to offer his paw in exchange for a treat.

“Wanna go for a walk?” He asked, and Grant immediately stood up, ears pricked.

"Why don't we all get some fresh air?" You offered. "Come home and make some quick trip plans, and you Mr Barber can enjoy a nice massage before you put a baby in me."

He blinked, “before I what?”

You smirked and walked off, "Come on, Counselor, we're losing daylight."

“No, hang on, you can’t say that and then run off!”

You giggled and started walking faster towards the garage door when a chase ensued. Your laughter echoed off the walls down the hall.

“Y/N!”

You howled as you ran from Andy, Grant barking as they both chased you down. His hand curled gently around your upper arm and he spun you round. You crashed into his broad chest, laughing still.

Your eyes smiled up at him, taking in that glint of sparkle the speckle of green in his eyes sometimes gave. Your lips spread into a bright, wide grin. "Something I said?

“You know damned well what you said.”

You pressed up on your toes to kiss him. "Well, what do you think?"

“I thought you wanted to wait until we were married?”

You popped your shoulders, "it's two weeks away, I thought maybe it might be an idea to stop my pill now. I don't expect things to happen overnight, but I figured why not.”

“I…”

“But that’s only if you want to…I mean, we can-“

“No, I mean, yeah, yeah I do want.”

Your smile turned to a soft smirk. "Good, now, how about that walk, huh, Counselor?"

He chuckled and nodded. “We can walk down to the square, grab a beer? It’s a nice night. Bit on the cold side, but they have those heaters outside.”

"Sounds like a plan." You winked patting him on the chest and walked off after a peck.

Andy leashed up Grant and the two of you walked hand in hand with the pup down the side streets towards the town square where you'd met many at times before in the days of your friendship. While the two of you sat over beers, you and Andy planned and booked his quick trip home. He was due to leave Thursday and come back Saturday, literally one week before your vows. You were fine with it, knowing you were keeping busy with full glam prep with a glowing Eva and a happy Amber. You would never complain about him going back to Boston for any reason.

You called your parents to let them know Andy would be in town, your mum delighted that she could mother him for a few days. Arrangements clear, you headed home, Andy feeling relaxed and much more like himself again.

Grant, knackered from his walk, went straight for his bed in the kitchen, his crate no longer necessary, finally. You were still working on getting Andy to let him sleep in your room with you permanently, one step at a time.

"So, how about that shower and massage huh, handsome?"

Andy smiled, his eyes shining. “Perfect.”

He followed you upstairs, every few steps looking over your shoulder to find him watching you, admiring you. It made you shiver in a delightful way.

Once in your room, you both showered, reminding Andy that there was far more foreplay to come as he insisted on touching every inch of you as the water trickled down your body.

With nothing but towels on, you instructed him to lay across the bed, face down. He did as told, his chin resting on his arms which were folded just above his head.

You stripped from your towel, straddling his hips, his nice firm and bubbled ass your seat.

“Other than the obvious,” you leaned down, your lips brushing his ear, “is there anywhere in particular you need me to focus on?”

"Nope," he mumbled.

You dripped the essential oils lotion into your hands and began working them across Andy's broad and muscular back. He'd been swimming almost daily since Christmas and it was definitely paying off. You worked your way up and down his spine. You applied pressure from the center and outward as you worked at the knots in his shoulders and neck. As you hit a particularly tense bit, you heard him hiss as he tensed underneath you.

"Oh, Bb, so tense."

“Yeah, well…” he hissed again as you thumb dug between his shoulder blades, “Jesus, that hurts!”

You chuckled and kept at it, feeling the knot start to release. He let out a guttural groan that made you tingle.

"Fahk, honey."

“You should go and get a professional to do this once a month or so.”

"Yeah, why when I can be subjected to your medieval tortures?"

“Because as much as I love torturing you, it’s no wonder your back aches if your shoulders are so stiff. Mind you, your posture at your desk is awful!”

"This was supposed to be relaxing and erotic, definitely saw this going differently in my head," Andy whined.

You gave a snort, “wimp.” You stopped the massage and instead just re-oiled your hands with the lotion and began just rubbing it into his back, ignoring the few knots you found as you went. You felt him relax a little, melting into the bed beneath you as he exhaled. You bent at your waist, lips brushing down his spine as you crawled backward over his legs, taking the towel with you as your hands ran over his ass.

As you reached that dip at the base of his back, Andy shuddered.

"Whatdya say, Counselor," your voice was sultry, inviting, "you ready to try...."

“Jesus, yes.”

Quicker than a flash, he was on his back and hauling you up, slanting his lips over yours. The kiss was hungry, not bruising yet so, but powerful and demanding still and you sagged into those strong arms that had kept you safe for almost two years now. Your entire world was wrapped up in bed with you and it felt like the most incredible feeling.

Despite his initial urgency, Andy took his time with you. Kissing every bit of you he could find, almost as if he was treasuring you, trying to memorise every dip, curve, scar and blemish you had. You came twice before he even slid into you, filling you and stretching you with ease. Then you came again as he slowly rolled those hips of his, giving you a lasting thrust that kissed the deepest parts of you. He wasn’t much of a dirty talker, nor was he particularly vocal during sex, unless he was in one of his needy moods. Instead, it was his noises of satisfaction which grew into a crescendo that you’d come to yearn and love, punctuated by the odd whispered piece of praise or declaration of love. He came after your fourth, and hard, his hips stilling while his hands gently gripped at yours, keeping his spend inside you.

Eventually, he pulled out and rolled onto his back, taking you with him so you lay on this chest. Your fingers gently raked through the hair on his chest as he kissed your head.

“You know what else we could practice?”

“What?’

“Having someone else sleep in the room with us…”

He groaned and chuckled, “you are insufferable.”

“You let him when he was little.”

“Yeah, so we could hear if he needed to pee in the middle of the night.”

“Okay, okay, I’m only teasing.”

You lay still for a moment before Andy sighed, and moved, jostling you off his chest. You watched him rise from the bed. “Fine, but his bed comes too. And he sleeps on it, in the corner of the room.”

You bit your lip and grinned up at him, “I love you.”

With a scoff and a roll of his eyes, he headed downstairs to fetch the dog he loved to pretend he hated.

*****

The rest of the weekend the two of you ran errands, one after the other, beginning the final arrangements for your big day. The work week was just that, work, the two of you buttoning up any projects that needed to be handled before your time off.

Thursday morning, you were taking Andy to the airport in Denver before heading into the office for your final two days as a single woman. You pulled up to the drop off point and climbed out, wandering to the trunk as Andy pulled out his bag. Grant was watching from his vantage point on the back seat as he wagged his tail, watching.

"Let me know when you get in, say hi to Jo for me and don't let my mom go nuts, please," you smirked.

“I ain’t saying shit to your mom,” Andy chuckled, “that’s your dad's job.”

"She's gonna spoil the shit out of you, and you know it."

“Yup, and I’m gonna love every single minute of it, Angel.”

You smirked and shook your head while wrapping your arms around him in that wool coat. "I love you, Mr Barber."

“I love you, soon to be Mrs Barber,” he smiled as he leaned down to kiss you softly.

A child-like grin spread over your lips as he pulled away, "it sounds so good," you giggled.

“Well, get used to it, because it’s gonna be your name for the rest of your life.”

"Hell yeah it is," you playfully shoved him along and he pecked you again with his bags in hand.

"See you in two days, honey," he smiled and walked off.

You watched him go and he paused at the door to the entrance, giving you a final wave which you returned before climbing back into your jeep. You snorted as you realised Grant and made his way into the passenger seat and was now sitting there, looking at you expectantly.

Since completing his obedience training, Grant had become the new office sidekick, coming to work with Andy and yourself most days. As such, He'd become the mascot unofficially so to speak and for the most he understood the assignment. He’d remain quiet most days, snoozing on his bed in the corner of your office, or pottering around and saying hi to people, but the second he'd see a squirrel or bird through the windows, all bets were off. Everyone at the Firm adored him and his stupid antics, and it made you feel better that he wasn’t at home all day, alone, relying on a dog walker.

Grant offered you his paw. You laughed, taking it, telling him he was a good boy and you pet him happily before pulling away.

****

Once in Boston, Andy called you straight away letting you know he'd made it. From there he collected his rental car and headed for your parents’.

He arrived not long after lunch local time, and true to form, your mom greeted him with a huge hug and ushered him into the kitchen. She sat a huge bowl of homemade tomato soup in front of him, with her baked bread which was adorned with lashings of butter.

Given his fill, he took up your father on drinks at the club with his friends, and so as not to feel entirely aloof, he invited Jo with him, and thus began a makeshift bachelor gathering.

Your dad had met Jo only a handful of times, but it still made Andy smile at how he greeted her warmly, like a friend he has known all his life. The group sat around the tables in the back, sharing stories and talking about life, even some throwing in marriage advice.

“Y/N is just like her Ma,” your dad smirked, “just remember even when she’s wrong, she’s right, and you’ll do just fine.”

"Fahk, learned that one early on," Andy laughed.

“She’s also stubborn.”

“Yup”

“Opinionated.

“Hell, yes.”

“And those are her good qualities.” Jo chipped in, “keeps you in check anyway.”

"She's got my number long before I had hers," Andy admitted. "This is it for me," he continued. "Angel's all I could have asked for at this stage in life."

"You got your vows done?" Jo piped in.

Andy nodded, “remembering them, however, might be a different matter.”

"Who said you have to memorize them? Just have them in hand to read if you need them," Your dad chuckled.

“Andy doesn’t work like that, do you?” Jo smirked.

"Nope," he chuckled. "I'll get 'em down." He necked his drink. "I can't get through them without my emotions getting in the way, so...."

Your dad looked at him for a moment before he laughed, “one thing for that buddy? Take a good, stiff drink with you.”

"Oh I plan on it," Andy chuckled.

They were a handful of rounds down before your dad and Andy called it a night, Andy promising Jo dinner after his day tomorrow.

He slept reasonably well that night, thanks to the alcohol in his system and after a hearty breakfast the next morning, courtesy of your mom, he showered and changed before heading out to take the trip he’d come back to Boston for.

He sat in his car at the cemetery for quite a while, his last visit here having gone quite differently. He suddenly found himself, for the first time he could remember, wishing he lived closer and could visit more often. In his haste to escape the community in the aftermath of everything that had happened, he hadn’t considered how far that would leave him from the physical place where his son lay.

Still, his life now was states away. And he knew Jacob wasn’t really there in the ground. He wasn't really anywhere now bar his memories.

Steeling himself, Andy left the car and took the short walk uphill where Jacob rested. In an interesting change even for himself, he'd brought flowers. Two bouquets; one for his son and one for his ex-wife. He placed the flowers down on each site before taking a seat in between them.

He sat in silence, lost in his own thoughts. His memory took him back to the day Laurie had told him she was pregnant and the sheer shock, and fear that had initially washed over him. It certainly hadn’t been planned, they’d barely been together a year and he was just out of law school. He thought about how he'd wanted to do the right thing, marry Laurie before Jake came, and how he'd done just that. He thought about what went into that wedding versus this one, not comparing them in a sense but just understanding the stark contrast and surrounding circumstances.

And as he looked over at Jake’s headstone, he smiled a little. He knew that this marriage wasn’t about replacing what he had, it was about moving on. A fresh start, but that didn’t mean he had to leave his memories behind. He knew that, he’d always know that. He’d simply lost sight of that recently.

"Hey, pal," Andy spoke softly. "It's been a while, I know. Wherever you are, I hope you're hearing me, seeing me. It's taken a long time to get here, comfortably. I miss you like hell, Jake."

His fingers twined together as he leaned forwards, elbows resting on his knees. “You’d love Y/N you know. She’s great, keeps your old man young and she’s an absolute lunatic when she gets going. And I got a dog. Funny how shit works out, huh? He's a dalmatian, we named him Grant. And yes Grant, after that movie." He gave a wet chuckle. "It's become an inside joke between Y/N and I." Then he sighed, "I'm getting married next weekend, pal. And fahk, I wish you were here to be a part of it."

He paused, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know how things would have worked out with me and your mom if the accident had never happened. I don’t know if I ever would have met Y/N. She ran to Boulder too, escaping her own trauma. But I do know one thing, you’d have always been my priority. Just like you always were.”

He licked his lips as a bird chirped somewhere in the distance, his eyes flicking around the quiet graveyard before they directed back to Jake’s headstone.

"I just hope, in the fifteen years we had together that I made you proud, Jacob, despite everything. I hope I was a good dad to you. I was damn proud of you, son, down to the final moment. You were my greatest gift. I'll always be proud of you, proud to be your dad, no matter what happened or happens from here. I will always love you." Andy began to cry." I only wish I could have done more and been better when you needed me to be. I tried my best."

His mind empty of anything else to say, he simply sat allowing his tears to fall in the quiet of the cemetery. His eyes then strayed right Laurie’s stone, the flowers he had placed down bright against the shiny, black marble which contained her epitaph.

Much loved wife and mother.

“You were,” he choked, wiping his nose. “I know we drifted at the end, probably beyond repair, but God, did I love you. And I love Y/N, so much I can’t even begin to explain. She’s the reason I found myself again, the person who showed me that I could live my life instead of merely existing. That’s why I call her my Angel, and I know you’d understand.”

He took another shaky breath.

"Well, I hope you do, at least." He sniffed. "Fahk, Laurie, I..."he sighed." We had some great years and I can't ever thank you enough for them or for giving me Jacob. We had choices, options and we stood firmly in our wants. No matter how selfish they were. I'm sorry for letting you down, I hope you've forgiven me, I hope that while don’t feel the level of pain and suffering like I used to, you're wherever knowing I've done my best, too. That I'm going to continue to give this life I've got left my all."

The birds continued to sing in the trees that surrounded the well- maintained graveyard and Andy looked down at his hands. His left has been devoid of the ring he had worn for years for over twelve months now, but it was soon to bear another.

And the mere thought that in just over a week, a simple band of metal would signify to the outside world that you were his, and he yours, warmed his soul.

"Goodbye, Laurie," he nodded, "Jacob, I love you, pal. Keep watch, I'm always looking for you."

With a final deep breath he stood and strode back to the parking lot, his eyes fixed forward, his pace slow but purposeful.

He contemplated for a brief moment crossing the way and standing in front of a different stone, a strong debate waging in whether he wanted to spit or take a piss on the marble but he snorted and realized the dead bastard wasn't even worth the thought he'd given this moment.

Instead, he carried on. When he arrived at the car, he fished for his keys and then as he climbed into the driver's seat he paused. Caught in the wiper was a single white feather and suddenly, a memory from earlier that year flashed into his mind.

The pair of you stood observing the carnage that the four-legged asshole had left in your living room. The throw cushion now a mere memory as Grant sat there, surrounded by feathers as they floated into the air around him.

“When feathers appear, angels are near.” You’d suddenly stated, causing Andy to turn and glare at you.

With a little smile to himself, and fresh tears in his eyes he rose back out of the seat and plucked the soft downy item from its resting place, tucking it in his wallet.

“Thanks, Buddy.” He smiled, glancing up at the clear sky.

*****

Chapter 20

[blzzrdstryr]

Like a fairy tale

Yandere!Diluc x maid!fem!reader

Wordcount: 1921

CW: Yandere and slightly suggestive themes.

You loved reading fairy tales as a child - they were magical and hopeful, a needed retreat for a child of destitute parents. They were a promise that if you were good and kind and beautiful enough, eventually some faraway prince would come by and save you from poverty. And you tried to be good - you were obedient and hardworking and you pushed your hardest in the local school, yet hardship and scarcity still trailed your every step - the meager earnings your parents made weren't enough to buy you nice clothes or let you eat until you were sated, which in turn made social interactions harder: some kids sneered and humiliated you, some tried to help you out of pity. You disliked both groups: whether they were friendly or aggressive towards you, they still looked down on you.

Thus you decided to distance yourself from your peers - there was no knight in shining armour galloping towards you on a snow white steed, yet a good education could be your golden ticket to a better rich life. It was hard at first - to work and to study and to help your parents all while ignoring the demeaning and insulting comments the bullies made, but you gritted your teeth and pushed forward, imagining how wealthy you’ll become in the future and in the end our efforts were rewarded - you graduated as the best student, that led you to receiving a scholarship from Sumeru academy. Sparks and shine appeared in your eyes as you read the letter, barely stopping yourself from outright squealing and jumping from joy.

The moment of happiness didn’t last long though, as a reality again reminded you that there’s no place for fairy tales in the real world - scholarship covered the full cost of apprenticeship, but only it - you still had to spend money on the journey from Mondstadt to Sumeru, a place to rent and food, and if you still could find a job after your arrival in the foreign country and pay off the later two, trip required mora that you never had. At first you had a mad idea to traverse Teyvat on your own two feet - it would be a slow and arduous process, but cheap nonetheless. You later gave up on this plan - archons didn’t give you any vision, nor did you have fighting and travelling experience to aid you on the trail that no doubt would be full of slimes, hilichurls and other dangerous monsters.

And that’s how you started job hunting - you took on any work that promised you a hefty pay, be it some boring reports for guild of adventurers or an exciting yet risky endeavor of getting information for an extravagant cavalry captain, which then led you to Dawn Winery. Head housemaid, Adelinde, posted a job opening for a maid, and the prospect of a stable salary, free food and comfortable bed was enough to lure you in there - two or three years ago the previous owner of the winery died in the accident and his successor left Mond for some reason, leaving the maintenance and management of the winery on the shoulders of the said housemaid.

After a quick interview, the head maid demanded you to show her your cleaning skills, which you effortlessly did, having to look after the house by yourself all your childhood. It seems she was satisfied, as she nodded to you and asked to follow her as she led you to your room. Compared to the other two maids here, Hillie and Moco, who preferred to spend their work time in idle chat, you came off as highly professional and diligent worker. This contrast raised both your position and salary in the winery, as Adelinde started to entrust you with tasks more interesting than simple sweeping and cleaning.

You were outside the winery the day you met Diluc - returning from the city and carrying several stacks of milk and wheat you got chased by the hilichurls. Monsters didn’t leave you, no matter how long and how far you ran. You were ready to drop all the goods and have Adelinde to scold you for wastefulness and dereliction when Ragnvindr appeared and stole a breath from you. He looked just like the prince from your childhood tales, impossibly pretty and strong, arriving just when the creatures caught up with you and then defeating all of them with a single slash of great claymore. And just like a fairytale prince he helped you to get up and collect the scattered baggage and asked if you were okay. Then you two headed for the winery, you didn't know that he was it's owner at the time, chatting and thanking him, as he carried purchases. Adelinde almost fainted when she saw the return of the prodigal master in your company. After hastily taking goods from his hands, she made you apologize for rudeness and insubordination, but Diluc interrupted you saying it was fine.

Ragnvindr heir returned back to the winery and life went on its own, except the unreadable glares Diluc started to send you when you both were in the same room. It started off small: the quick glances that soon grew into intense staring. With his impassive stone face it was impossible to tell why he was glaring at you so much, so you acted as polite and professional as you could in his vicinity - after all you didn’t want to get fired and look for a new job. The key to this riddle presented itself during one day.

It was a bleak windy morning when Adelinde sent you to the city again, and as you walked the sky darkened and rain started. You returned absolutely soaked and shivering, teeth chattering and limbs slightly numb from cold and when Diluc saw you he ordered you to change in a low commanding voice. Frightened by the possible dismissal, you hurried putting on the uniform. Because of the haste you pulled it too tightly, hiking up a maid dress a little. It wasn’t up enough to reveal your hips or thighs, showing just a portion of knees that was usually hidden by the wide skirt.

Diluc’s eyes were glued on the uncovered joints, a subtle blush appearing on his pale cheeks. You continued to work, feeling how he consumed your legs with his eyes alone. He is lusting after me. You didn't know what to do with that revelation back then, embarrassed and slightly scared of attracting master Diluc's attention.

Nonetheless, an answer quickly came on the next day as you found a bonus to your salary, so big that it could be considered a payment for the next month. Diluc, despite his usually impassive face, seemed to be ashamed of the thoughts he had yesterday, with the body language telling you of his true feelings.

A plan came to mind. You hated yourself for it at first - it was low and disgraceful, you felt like a stereotypical manipulative gold digger, yet still decided to realize it in life - you needed mora, as fast and as much as possible. Over the time you spent working at the Dawn winery you noticed that Diluc, despite his obviously high intelligence, wasn't really good at judging one’s character, so he fell for your scheme pretty easily. Design you had in mind was pretty simple - to stir him up with small, innocuous gestures and changes that would slip past the outsider’s eyes.

Sometimes you applied a thin layer of healing lip balm on your lips, that so conveniently happened shine and glitter under the light, sometimes you donned your dress a little bit higher, opening the view of two delicate knees and sometimes after cleaning and working all day you felt so hot that you had to unfasten one or two buttons to cool off. Diluc, despite not showing it on his face, was obviously distracted and aroused, hands clenched into fists and a shaky, barely controlled exhale escaping his nose.

He started to pile you with bonuses and prizes; “for a well done job”, he said one time, averting his gaze and masking the shame in his voice under a huff. He also started to request you to specifically clean the rooms he occupied, his eyes sizing up almost every inch of your body. You felt how the lust and desire radiated off him, how his hands itched to trace your skin and have you at his mercy, yet he stopped every time with his steel strong control and self-discipline. You sensed how it dwindled little by little.

Diluc, in some perverted sense, was that fair prince of your childhood daydreams that would save you from poverty.

You almost had saved up the needed amount of money when you noticed the loss of your most cherished possession - an invitation to the Sumeru academy and scholarship certificate. With heart booming in your chest you started to look for it in the whole winery, without giving out that you were searching for something. It seems that you were unsuccessful in your attempts, as master of the winery soon called you into the office.

Here, he was sitting behind the desk with a familiar paper in his hand - your eyes widened as you saw it and you had an urge to run up to him and snatch the invitation from him. You performed a curtsy instead, closing the door behind you and waiting for him to speak, eyes still on the sheet in Diluc’s hold.

“[First], you are a diligent and skillful employee, Adelinde has a very high opinion of you” he started from afar, a slight rosy blush dusting his cheeks at "skillful employee".

"So as your employer I wouldn't want any harm to befall on your person, and" he shaked the invitation a couple of times, "it came to my attention that you were planning on travelling to Sumeru. I advise you against this nonsensical idea".

You gritted teeth, careful not to insult him with the couple of barbed words at the tip of your tongue. Nonsensical idea? This was your goal, a main reason why you worked so much and allowed yourself so little.

“I am sorry, master Diluc, I am afraid I can’t abandon this idea”, you say, response flat and controlled, a thunderstorm of emotions hidden beneath the faux calm, “It is my goal, and the main reason why I work here”. So I can have a bright and secure future, in which I won’t have to worry about the tomorrow ever again.

“I also learned that you were born into a low income family and you had to struggle in your life because of that ” a sudden mention of your less than glorious origin makes your face burn from the shame you thought you buried a long time ago. You are stunned, so he continues: “I believe this little endeavor of yours is also motivated by your desire for a stable future. Drop it, I travelled all across the Teyvat and there are horrors that can easily destroy you both in body and spirit”.

He stands up from the desk, and gets closer to you: “I can look after and provide for you, just stay there and you won’t have to worry about the future again ”. His hold on the paper gets tighter, pyro vision shining with a dangerous glint. A faint smell of smoke spreads through the room - a warning if you remain stubborn and unyielding.

Who could have known that the fair prince was a greedy dragon all along?

[silksaddle]

The Traveler 2

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x f!reader Western AU

Chapter summary: 1907, Old West. Talk of the Statesman gang is slowly on the rise while Jack continues to distract you from your chores, taking you on another but entirely different night-time outing. 

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, guns, mentions of alcohol and gangs, copious flirting, SMUT, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex/piv sex, outdoor sex, thigh spanking, please pardon me for the amount of smut content in this chapter, a crumb of plot development, Jack Daniels again...

Word count: 14k (leave me alone)

A/N: gif credit to @javier-pena once again! thank you my beloved astrid! and as always, much love to my amazing friends who sent me inspo posts and listened to my anxious ramblings about god-knows-what. you are all the best and you have my heart.

Read Chapter One ~ Series Masterlist

Chapter Two: Six Shooter

Jack is spreading his half-naked body over the mattress in a contented stretch when you return to the bedroom, flustered and hot-cheeked.

“You here to take my sheets, darlin’? I must insist I keep ‘em,” he chortles, turning his bright face over the soft pillow as you attempt stripping the sheets from under him, your lungs emptying in a huff when he catches your wrist and draws you to him instead. Your body lands perfectly on top of his with your weak protest, a poor match for his irresistibly gravel-like voice and his buzzing snugness.

“You’re making my job quite difficult,” you mumble into his neck, kissing the smooth skin there although your words are much more harsh. His chest rumbles, fingers running the length of your clothed back from when he’d hurriedly laced you back into your dress, lips skimming graceful but mindless lines on your temple.

“Mrs. Adler thinks you’re doing your chores.” Jack’s palms are now ghosting over your shoulders as you prop yourself up on your elbows, taking his gaze with you as you move, and you can tell your dilating pupils are betraying the falseness of your annoyed tone when you look at his expanding chest. He takes a deep breath in, the angle of morning light catching his eyes just right to melt them into golden flecks, his dishevelled hair incurable without a bath. 

You card your fingers through, and though it’s slightly tangled, the texture is silky enough to brush through the messy state and straighten it out, just a smidge. The touch causes his eyes to flutter closed, and shimmying up his body, he leans his head back to expose his neck further, the long lines and tone popping against each other. His breath hitches when he feels your own puffing across it, his chest immobile while he waits to feel something more from you, but you don’t kiss him, don’t nip him, don’t caress him there.

“I’ve only come to take your sheets to wash them— I should already be downstairs,” you insist and he mopes, your voice softly carrying throughout the bright bedroom, limbs absent-mindedly wrapping around his firm ones until he clings to you.

“Oh,” he hums, tipping his body until you roll under him onto the no-longer-fresh sheets, landing on your back with his hands cradling your head. His handsome smile makes you forget you ever needed to take his sheets in the first place, and when he kisses you deeply, moaning low when you open up for him and his bare skin slides over you, you don’t even remember where you are. “Thought you’d wanted some more of me…”

“Mmm, Jack— she’s already a little suspicious of me,” you giggle, wriggling underneath his heavy weight and it’s a futile effort beneath his affection, his lips laying warm insistent kisses all over your forehead, your cheeks, your jaw. He’s unstoppable, whether it’s the heaviness or the happiness that makes you lie there and take it with quiet laughter as the rough skin of his cheek touches gently to yours. 

Jack is as much the sunshine of the room as the real thing, chuckling sweetly along with you and growing more pleased the louder your squealing sounds become, your fingers pulling across the bare skin of his back— he likes it too much to let you off in a timely manner.

Mrs. Adler had only just believed your excuse of a poor sleep as you’d rushed out in a tizzy with your disheveled hair and clothes, and a terrible flourish of panic had bloomed in your chest at the thought of an unchecked mark lingering on your neck. But Jack had looked you over meticulously; deft fingers had worked at the laces of your layers. And even before making it to the kitchen, two dozen kisses wet on your thighs, you’d opened the door only to find the old woman pacing about on the landing of the stairs. Slamming it shut with your back on the wood, panting in the face of confrontation, Jack snickered and peeked out for you a minute later, confirming your chance to slip out undetected.

Now finished serving breakfast, Jack once again prevents you from carrying out your tasks.

“You’ve left me with a lastin’ impression,” he rasps, eyes crinkling as he slips a hand under your skirt and the touch tickles and inspires a giddy laugh from your throat as you swat him away, at last slipping out from under him. 

“Give me your sheets, you greedy man,” you order, lifting your chin and furrowing your brow with your arm extended. Jack purses his lips and thinks, sitting up to run a hand through his dark hair, your smile growing despite yourself when it sticks up in bulky curls to leave his contented face in view. 

“These sheets have got your smell on ‘em now,” he grins like it’s his most favoured fact in his whole life, leaning back into his palms and his cock is slowly hardening between his legs as he considers his next words, “your cum is on them.”

“Jack,” you chuckle, “you’re dirty.” Inching closer to him, his joyous face turns dark when you arrive in the middle of his strong thighs extending past the edge of the bed, “Get up, please, or I’ll have you explaining why I’m behind schedule for the second time today.”

He presses up onto his feet, his gentle scent covering you as if a fleeting spell, and before any more rational thoughts occur, your hand is reaching into his unbuttoned pants, wrapping around his hard length. His head tips back, the softest growl filling your ears and he pushes his hips forward, placing his hands on your cheeks, urging your lips to slide along his as he fucks into your tight fist. It’s a sweet kiss compared to his already desperate thrusts, his cum still streaking your thighs, inside of you, outside of you, from mere hours before.

“I told you I’d come back here tonight. We’ve plenty of time to ruin more sheets.” Your whisper earns a heavy sigh expelled onto your skin, his grip sliding down to your neck and as his mouth hangs open, you nip at his bottom lip and pull it into your mouth, a tender suckle on the plush softness. He hisses as you let it go, burying his nose into the curve of your neck, and stilling his movements with your hand, he lets you work him like that— your fingers tightly curled around his cock as you slide it in and out of your palm. 

“Fuck me,” he groans, “I better see you back here if you’re gonna touch me like this, darlin’.”

Smiling, you pump him quickly, whispering how you can still feel him as if he’s fucking you right now, how good he is, how thick, and he growls from his chest, shutting his eyes tight in concentration.

“Maybe you’ll let me touch you tonight, too, Jack, leave your ropes for another time…” Your free hand clamps around the back of his neck, twirling your fingers around the hair at the nape of it, before tugging him down for a slower kiss, capturing his striking whine in your mouth.

“Shit, darlin’... I’d do anything you say right about now… Christ,” Jack’s fingers trace the neckline of your bodice as his lips skate along your cheek, and his voice is so husky and rumbly, you almost consider a greater risk of trouble.

He makes no protest as you bend carefully, still pumping his thick cock while you yank the sheet away from the mattress, pulling back to fold it into your arms and finally leaving his hard length unattended. Jack’s eyes snap open in a crushing neediness, his displeased but wrecked voice calling after you in a bid to keep you here and he laughs incredulously, “You get back here right now.”

Backing up into the door, your lip caught in your teeth, you reach behind and find the cool handle, offering a cheeky grin before you slip away and murmur, “I’m busy.”

-

A mellow afternoon follows Jack’s disgruntled exit to the fractional post office, stealing a rushed kiss in the corner of the parlour for the mere seconds you were alone together, giddy glances spared through the window on his walk to work. You spend a small segment of your time concocting tea for Mrs. Adler who pours over the payment book, thanking you as she slides a list across the bar; it’s full of all things you know to do without the help of paper and pencil.

“How about that Mr. Daniels?”

Spluttering, you swivel on your heel, unsure of the intention of her question, your eyes mistakenly blowing wide with no answer to fill the subsequent silence. She must know, you worry, she must.

“What about him?” You query, looking down at your apron in no need of smoothing, yet your hands fiddle with the pockets, and her amused scoff scrapes through your uneasy stance.

“My, you’d better sleep well tonight... that man whipped those fools down in a second,” she laughs, flipping the page of the large notebook and scribbling something down with a spotted, shaky hand. 

“He did.” Wiping your face, you conceal a sliver of a smile under your hand when you think of him— ease and cockiness burned down to his big pleading eyes looking up at you for permission. “Thought you disliked him.”

“Well, I could admit we need someone like that around here more often,” she croaks as you pretend to look over the list of laundry, sweeping, cooking, cleaning. The sentiment lands somewhere uncomfortable in your chest— you no more than agree with her and you could never tell her why or how.

“Oh, and dear, the sheriff came by this morning,” she adds, relaying his spiel of reports.

Only the most notable happenings make it over from town to town, lawlessness rendering crime nothing more than irrelevant. It takes a mass robbery, or a mammoth fire, or an offense so deeply doused and coloured red in rage to make the rounds of neighbouring settlements, so when Mrs. Adler shares the spreading news of heightened gang exploits a little ways north, your heart sinks and adopts a painfully heavy sensation.

“He advises to be extra careful,” she finishes with a stern look, “they could be coming here for all we know. Those Statesman men are horrible…”

“Statesman?” you echo her words, scouring the back of your mind to place the familiarity of that name, but she smiles in return to soften your worried brow. Statesmen, a Statesman. You’d read it somewhere, embellished into leather or stitched into the label of a visitor’s coat while tidying.

“I wouldn’t worry too much. If anything, girl, that Daniels boy should be of use.”

A challenge not to snicker, she gives you, when she tells you not to fuss, as if you’ve got the liberty to enjoy the outdoors where a vigilant attitude is required— but Jack is the remedy, you think, eyeing the stray strands of her brittle grey hair twisted up, scrunching your nose.

“Alright, Mrs. Adler,” you agree, passing her through to the laundry closet.

The air is stuffy inside the small, shelved room, where pleasing, cooling, tiny splashes pepper your forearms as you pour the water bucket into one of the tubs, then grabbing the soap, you flump onto the short stool and drag the laundry basket to your side. The first sheet on the pile is the last one you’d taken— Jack’s— carrying his heady and wood-fiery scent now mingled with yours. With a vibration of anticipation up your spine, your thoughts twirl upon your admittedly cruel handling of his need— tonight, you’re surely in for it.

The usual, slowly passing and hot hours fill with inescapable reveries toeing the line of unrealistic: a cloudy day in bed, a sunny evening at the river, clothes discarded to the side. Shaking those heart string-stretching thoughts and trading for a better focus, you hang the wringed sheets on the line as the last blazes of the sun spread over the field, and take a moment to rest your elbows on the log fence at the back of the yard overlooking the vast, lush area. 

Something heavy, once more, tugs at your weary limbs, watching the calm breeze push along the beige blades of plant-life, and you think of Sylvie— her bright mane and soothing demeanor, the rush of riding with her and him. The thrill no longer chased, waiting for you still. There must be a few months worth left of him, two at the least, perhaps enough to soothe your aching heart in seeking more vibrant days. But before too long, you set back on your course of chores, trekking up to tidy the bathing rooms for those coming back from a dirty day.

Jack finds you there an hour later in the open door, kneeling on the floor by the bathing tub, scrubbing away at its already-shiny exterior, and he smiles under the sticky and sweaty clothes, watching the way your body jostles with movement.

“Hey, cruel woman.”

Halting, your head briefly hangs between your shoulders before you sit back on your heels and grin up at him, his weary feet leading him towards you, a set of clean clothes hanging off his arm. His shirt is sheer in some places more than others, namely his chest, damp with muscular effort. 

“Did you have a hard day, Jack?” You question, making big eyes at him from your low spot compared to his tall height, and his face grows slightly stern.

“Oh, darlin’, you know I did,” he kneels, takes your chin in his hand and you find yourself leaning up into his face, mere inches from his lips, entranced by their pouty curve. But he doesn’t kiss you. He pinches your chin harder, a deep pressure as he looks over you, taking in the way you indulgently advance until you’re on hands and knees, caged by his own, staring at him with none of the power you held this morning.

“You oughta continue what you started…” he whispers almost on your lips, never close enough to touch, your eyelids heavily drooping as you look down his torso, leading to his cock.

“Oh,” you sigh, slick pooling where he can’t see or feel it, “Jack, I can…” 

You crawl forward between his spread legs until your nose nudges the material of his pants, resting your weight back on your knees when you reach out for him, but his face is a sinister, knowing grin when steadily rises back up to stand, rocking into his heels.

“Not now, though,” he coos, swiping a damp thumb over your lip, “off you go, little lady.”

“Why—”

Whining involuntarily, you watch while he shrugs off his suspenders and closes his eyes, fluttering back open with a smirk at Mrs. Adler’s distant call for you to prepare dinner.

“That’s why.”

Your mouth hanging open, you roll your eyes, taking his calloused hand as he aids you upward from the hard floor, though he finally gives you a greeting of a peck on the cheek, “Later, angel, you can show me what you’ve been thinkin’ about all day.”

Nudging your body, he sends you off to your chores in a frazzled state and shuts the door with a wink, settling in to wash himself off from the dust and dirt.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so needy, it nearly feels stupid to still have the crushing weight of wanting Jack as you chop ingredients, peek into cupboards, fill plates. It’s even worse when he sits at the table, clean and fresh and irresistibly smooth, chatting in easy conversation with Mrs. Crockett who enjoys his company dearly as she tells him uninteresting stories of her husband. 

He watches your back as you turn about the steps, as you pass along plates to each person, and he brushes his fingers purposely along yours when you arrive at his spot, a gesture to offer his silent token of appreciation. Your breath catches, and his wink sets it free again through a quiet sigh, smiling sweetly for him. He tries not to laugh, you notice, and you stop yourself from touching his shoulder here in front of everyone— namely Mrs. Crockett, who has also made a poor reputation of gossip and a budding friendship with Mrs. Adler who is closest to her in age. The last thing you can manage is a rumour about your little life; by that point you’d be begging Jack to take you with him even before the post office is built, even with so much left to explore with him.

As the chitter-chatter diminishes down to an empty table with empty plates, and the visitors disperse into corners or run off to different buildings— they always come back for dinner to get their money’s worth— you sort out the dried laundry, slipping into the ladies’ rooms to aid with corsets, all with distant thoughts in a place where they shouldn’t be. They never ask about your day so much as they speak of theirs, whether time spent with their sweetheart, telling you how they prefer their things folded, or muttering how much they liked dinner. The last one you take lightly, thanking the ladies in whispers. Now, though, it doesn’t cause as much of an ache in your heart when you listen to their free and happy memories— you think of doing the same with Jack, of asking him and receiving his sweet smile in return, ready if you are.

When you finally sit at your simple vanity, it’s with a powerful sigh that you remove your boots, step out of your clothes, and trade them for your nightgown. You pull the threaded pink ribbon taut into a bow, and look over yourself in the mirror, giddy in your stomach for when the time comes to slip into Jack’s room. Judging by the clock, another half hour would do to be sure everyone has settled in so you can sneak in complete privacy, and it feels less daunting now than it ever did before.

Folding your petticoat to lay the soft cotton on the tabletop, you hear the handle click and turn and you gasp fiercely in response, rising from the chair as Jack all but barrels in, haphazardly shutting the door before swooping you into his arms.

“Oh, my—” you squeal, cut off by a rough kiss that you eagerly return, bombarded with the scent of his soap and shaving cream. You only urge him off with your hands sneaking between your bodies to press on his chest and ask a burning question, his lips not wanting to part from you. It’s a tiny struggle but he eventually gives way, fondly looking down at you as you speak. “Did anyone see you?”

“Hall was empty. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ of you… lost my damn patience,” he croons, plushy lips open on your neck, leaving kisses that bloom into pleasant flourishes of need like ink dipped into water. It’s a new spot that you allow him to explore, bringing your hands up his wide shoulders as you turn around the room together, stepping at random. “Had to keep from touchin’ myself and dreamin’ of you…”

You wrap your arms around his neck, reeling him in closer for a whisper against the shell of his ear.

“You don’t have to dream, Jack, I’m here.”

His breath stutters uncharacteristically and it must be your chance to keep him like this, his pleasure dependent on what you decide to do with him— so you pin your front to his and he grunts, giving a miniscule, testing rut back.

“No more teasin’?” he asks hopefully, sweet brown eyes glowing in the low light of your little lamp. “You weren’t so nice this morning…”

“Oh, Jack, I’m not so sure about that.”

In a mirror of the morning, you slip your hand lower to find his cock hard again, splaying your fingers over its thick length and rubbing over the fabric. He squeezes your waist, digging his thumbs in helplessly as he staves off a groan in a bid to keep what willpower is still left with him, then loses it all when you place a simple kiss to his collarbone, not open or rough or wet— just plain, pressed lips to his skin, and he asks you for more.

“Will you let me touch you this time?” you murmur, urging him backward onto the bed. He slumps over the mattress, eyes trained on your face as he places himself further up with his legs spread, palms sinking into the covers. He swallows thickly when he takes you in: standing over him in the sheer, light fabric of your nightgown, its lace edges bordering the slopes of your body.

“I want you in my mouth,” you continue, lowering yourself to your knees, hands over his own as he shuts his eyes and breathes deep, long breaths, grunting when he feels your fingers working at his buttons. “Think I’ve earned it.”

“You could ask me for anything you want, darlin’... shit—” His thighs tense under your ministrations as you reach in and pull his cock out, the tip of it shining in his own, generous arousal. He looks down from himself to your sparkling eyes, and cups your cheek in his large hand, its smoothness traveling down the curve of your face. “Anything you want.”

His lip twitches, mouth falling delicately open and his eyes shutting once more as you place your tongue flat at the base, licking upward, circling around the head while you watch his face strain and pull, his neck sticking out prominently. He’s gorgeous when you touch him like this, still so fresh and clean from the bath. The warm drips of precum glide slowly on your tongue as you hold it out, then wrap your lips around him, whining when he fists through your hair and cramps his fingers.

“That mouth is just about gonna kill me already,” he rasps, bucking his hips up a smidge to perch himself deeper in your mouth, your hand rising to cover his at the base of your neck. Its heat is dangerous yet satisfying in its revelation of just how affected he is, a tiny spot of sweat swiping from his palm onto your neck.

Blinking up at him, you pull off, wetly sliding over half the length of him before moving back down to take more, feeling it brush against the back of your throat. You keep him there as he squeezes you harder, his spine curling over you and the new sound he makes is just begging to be heard, but he smothers it with a bite of his own lip to quiet it.

“Like that…” he sighs, carefully canting his hips forward as you wrap your fingers around his base, enveloping him and spreading the wetness of your mouth over his entire length.

He glistens like that, shimmering in the low and golden light, fisting at the blanket and your hair, puffing focused breaths every time you take him deeper, longer, sucking him harder.

Up and down, you keep your lips wrapped snugly around his cock, its throbbing heft a pleasurable weight on your tongue, the satisfying hit of the head at your throat.

“Where have you fuckin’ been,” he nearly laughs in disbelief that you’re even here, much less on your knees, much less with your mouth around him.

Pulling off for a deep breath, you trace the edges of your nightgown, eyeing him and his debauched, handsome face as you bring the lacy straps off your arms, leading them from your wrists. “I’ve always been here.” 

The fabric gathers at your waist in a soft pool of cotton and ribbon, your chest bare and level with his cock.

“Do you like that, Jack?” you preen, settling closer to him this time over the hard and truthfully painful floor— you don’t notice it as much when you feel him hitting that spot all the way down your throat.

“You know I do,” he smiles breathlessly, crinkles and that little dimple creasing in his content face. He leans down for a kiss, its nature unlike the urgency of your own mouth wetting his cock— it’s always sweet like he is to you in every other way, lingering there before you lean into the space between his legs, eager.

“I wanted you all day,” you coo, running a thumb over his tip, a saturated kiss placed there before you put him in your mouth for a brief suck, managing to keep him inside for a few short seconds. “I should have felt so tired after what you did to me, but all I could think of was this.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, he then lets it go in a gravelly sigh as he holds your bobbing head in his hands, spanning the sides of your face. Your forehead brushes his soft stomach as you push down, hollowed cheeks hugging every inch of him and he jolts, driving himself the smallest bit further, moaning at the tight and wet sensation of you. You pump him, looking so falsely innocent between his legs, your chest and shoulders bare for him to admire, peeking out of the fine gown.

“Keep goin’ darlin’, I’m gonna fill that pretty mouth up... know you want it down your throat, bet you thought about havin’ my cum drippin’ from your mouth all day, too, hm?”

Licking the tip and rubbing him faster, you nod fervently, opening wide in a stretch to finish him off with firm squeezes and strokes, his breaths now raggedly rough from above you every time he hits that spot. Your mouth is hot on his skin and he warns you he’s going to cum soon, he’s going to fill your mouth up nice and good, and you shut your eyes tight in concentration, focused on the thick feel of him sliding in and out between your lips.

“Wanna see you when I fill you baby doll, c’mere n’ look at me.” Jack’s fingers brush the underside of your chin, and you strain to look upward before you slide your hand over his slick cock. He tenses up by another degree, his chest and forehead damp, throat straining as he swallows thickly. 

A final squeeze and he cums all over your extended tongue, the milky liquid sliding off and onto your chest as he moans through gritted teeth, dazed as you are as you both watch it drip all over your exposed half. You swallow what remains in your mouth, letting your jaw drop to show him your now clean slate.

Bending into you and still panting, he smiles, streaking his thumb down your chin to gather up what’s left, guiding it into your open mouth. Heart racing, you take it in, your enthusiastic glow causing his face to soften.

His gaze drifts south to linger on your glimmering chest, pressing his palm flat and firm into the slight pool of it. He paints you with it, spreading his cum all over each breast with a clear sheen from the separation, special attention granted to each nipple with a flick of his wet thumb. Its initial warmth has cooled and with it lingers a soothing cover over your front as you lay your cheek over his knee, toying with the worn laces of his boots.

“Now… how to thank my darlin’ girl and her perfect fuckin’ mouth…” Jack wonders aloud as he cups your cheeks in his hands and puts a contrasting, innocent kiss to your forehead.

Grinning up at him and placing your hands over his, you tell him that’s all you wanted to give him, all you needed was to finally feel him in your mouth.

“Well,” he whispers, “I wanna show you what I was thinkin’ about all day long.”

The spark in your eyes must be a blinding one, his hands gliding over the slope of your body as you work yourself back onto your feet, your knees throbbing and sore. Wincing, you balance yourself on his broad shoulders, glancing down to notice his eyes not relieved of their dark hunger.

“Jack, you’re…”

“Not done, angel,” he finishes for you, and that’s when you feel it, the slick dripping past your core to spread slightly down your squeezing thighs. He pushes his sleeves up as the corner of his lip tugs upward too, straight teeth glinting the same as his eyes.

“Your turn, then,” you murmur, parting his hair through your fingers. It falls back into place, his pillowy and gentle lips finding yours as he stands with you, always chasing you, waltzing you backward until your ass bumps against the thick windowsill.

“I was choppin’ wood, thinkin’ of settin’ you right here,” he confesses lowly, ensuring the curtains are drawn completely open with a quick swipe of his hands over the gauzy lengths previously covering the glass, “thinkin’ of fuckin’ you on my fingers like this.”

You situate yourself properly on the sill and he steps back, taking a comically focused once-over of your seated body, but the desire is still so thick it doesn’t even bring you to laugh when he hurriedly comes back to you. He spreads your thighs wide, his palms a fiery heat that couldn’t be further from where you want it.

Tugging at his collar, you reel him in to place an open kiss just under his ear. “Give it to me how you want.”

The glass cools the staggering temperature on your skin as he knocks you into it, your back sticking to its chilly surface in the midst of his swirling breaths, ghosting the edges of your shoulders before he hikes your thighs up higher to his waist.

“You ready for me?” he murmurs with a husky voice, and it’s a powerful shock from your head to your toes, seeing how easily he’s worked back up to needing you as he lowers a hand to your core. His fingers part you, a slick and effortless slip through your folds to your entrance. “Darlin’... you’re soakin’ my hand already. Did suckin’ my cock do all this to your sweet little cunt?”

A hushed, restrained sound tears from you and is quieted by his mouth covering yours when he rubs his calloused fingers over your clit, rasping those low words sweetly into you, nipping your bottom lip between his teeth as the digits travel lower. The arousal dripping from your cunt makes that first slide so easy, Jack bottoming out to his knuckles with a soft sigh. His stomach nearly touches your own still covered by the bunched nightgown and he pauses there, a reassuring squeeze to your side and then a smooth gracing of his free hand to hold your thigh tight to himself.

“This is where I’ve wanted to be,” he confesses, his nose drawing a line from your shoulder, delicately down to your chest as he bends and swipes his tongue broadly over your sensitive nipple. The signals from your brain to your muscles are jumbled now, feeling the heat of his wet tongue tasting the cum on your chest— it’s out of your control when you arch your back into him and whine, when your fingers tangle into his hair and tug.

He responds in a groan, licking across your skin to your unattended nipple which he suckles on gently, lapping at it. Jack curls his two thick fingers before straightening out to kiss you fleetingly on your lips; he parts and watches your eyes intently, a stray curl falling to hang between his brows.

“So full already, hm?” he teases, his thumb swiping slow patterns on your clit, and you lean further back into the glass with a pant, its surface no longer able to cool you down.

“Yes,” you manage to respond in a gasp as he grants a second, deeper hit, a slight slapping sound causing you both to hug each other tighter and chuckle.

“Tight, sweet thing,” he groans, extended curls and strokes stretching you wholly around his hand, “take my fingers just right. Is that it, darlin’, were you made for me to fill you?”

“Mm,” you suck in sharp breaths, “mhm, you fill me up, Jack, you fill me up so good.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, and his chin hooks onto your shoulder, digging into it hard as he holds you with one toned arm snaking around your waist. Like this, your damp chest brushes his, his fingers pump and work you open another smidge wider as he pushes in, grinds his palm against your clit, pulls his fingers out a fraction of the way. The motions of his hips against his own wrist are gentle, unhurried for now, having already cum into your slack mouth.

With the flat of his free palm caressing your back through soft strokes, he draws his lips back and forth over the curve of your neck.

“You know what I see?” he asks, urging his knuckles deeper in the hardest plunge he's given you tonight, an agonizingly fiery touch to your clit. “Men, walkin’ around all dumb— could see me fuckin’ you right here on my hand if they’d just look up— shit, they got no clue I’m feelin’ the wettest little pussy, huh?”

“Fuck, Jack,” your nails dig into the lean and muscular bulge of his biceps as he keeps you upright against the glass, your thighs squeezing him so close he can hardly fuck you anymore— he just rubs and grinds his hand against you while remaining far inside your aching pussy, soaking his already drenched fingers with more slick.

“And only I’m gonna watch you cum,” he adds in a grunt, working himself into you with every last drop of energy he’s saved, his soft moans and sharp teeth spurring you closer to coming all over his perfect fingers. You might have gone longer if not for the irreversible, desperate need for him that sucking his cock had instilled in you— had you nearly dripping onto the floor, your body left unimaginably sensitive that each time he brushes up against you now, you dig deeper into his skin. He likes it though, and it makes him move with a crazed edge, his moans transforming into snarls.

“Only you…” you echo, starting to grind with him yourself, rolling into and meeting his short, fast thrusts, every muscle tensing and straining and it’s so close, almost there—

“There you go, doll, can feel you squeezin’ me so tight… cum on my hand, fuckin’ soak me, c’mon…”

“Jack, Jack I’m gonna—” Urgently, you tap at his shoulder with wide eyes and worried brows as you feel it start to happen, knowing how close you are to crying— your nails dig into his shoulders so intensely when you cum, jaw dropped and eyes shut and he makes a wincing yet completely pleased noise into your mouth; it’s cruel. You manage not to make a peep at the cost of losing large breaths, and it makes your orgasm all the more intense: light headed, woozy, and tingling numbness reaching the length of your body.

“Sweeter than fuckin’ honey when you do that,” he smiles widely, until his mouth drops fully open at the way you hug his hand inside from coming so hard around him. Your slick gathers between your thighs and you still can’t breathe, his face buried into the spot under your jaw as he pulls them out of you, dragging the pads up to your clit while the rest of it spreads throughout your folds. He stares down at it, at the wetness dripping and glistening from your core, and he groans again, blinking slowly.

Placing his palms on the sill by either side of your trembling figure, he hums, your smile against his skin buzzing at his insatiable drive, how he’d fucked your mouth and your pussy with such short rest, feeling the damp hair at the back of his neck. He drops his head down as an offering and you take him in a gentle cradle, kissing his forehead as he’d done to you while he nestles. He looks up and back down, waiting for another, your fingers smoothing the unruly hair from his face.

“Hell, if I don’t wanna fuck that pretty pussy every night till I die,” he exhales, another glance at his wet fingers, dropping a kiss to your collarbone.

“Oh, Jack,” you laugh, your heels hitting the wall underneath you, “if only you were here for that long.” 

His face scrunches a little in confusion before his lips curve, “How many times do I have to remind you I ain’t leavin’ so soon?”

“As many times as it takes,” you whisper, fingers scratching down his arms, his own dipping into your cunt again without a warning, “fuck—”

“Yeah, baby doll,” he croons, “I got somethin’ to prove to you still?”

You nod with a greedy smirk and he retracts his fingers, taking them into his mouth after drawing a line between your breasts to taste your mingled releases, moaning in your ear. “Go n’ get on the bed. You’re gonna ride my face.”

A shiver chills your spine, mainly at the way his voice has dropped a miraculous third time, his hand landing a light swat on your ass when you pass him, shaky legs taking you toward the mattress. He follows to lay on his back, perpetually pleased with himself, arms outstretched and beckoning you forward. You crawl up to him and you can feel your own cum streaking your thighs as you move, soon beside his large body, and he raises his brows impatiently, “Well go on, sugar, I wanna taste some more of that.”

Stretching his neck every which way, his eyes crinkle as he grins between your thighs while you throw one over his shoulder and his arms fall behind him, fingers searching for yours until he laces them together, squeezing.

“You’re not tired yet, old cowboy?” you tease lightly, the force of it lost when he gives a broad swipe of his tongue and moans yet another time, indulgently, swallowing the remnants of your previous release.

“I ain’t ever gonna tire of this,” he replies, another lick from your entrance to your clit, such an easy slip of the muscle, your sensitivity dialed up too many extra notches. His brows knit together in effort, rough cheeks pleasantly scratching on your skin when he moves his head side to side, tongue hanging out of his mouth and edging with a perfect pressure all over your sensitive bud.

“I’d hope not,” you exhale, grinding your hips over his wet mouth until his grip moves to your thighs to prevent you from moving. His eyes look up at you keenly as he closes his lips around your clit and sucks, your head tipping in silent rapture as you take it all for him without the relief of motion. 

“We go real nice together,” he grumbles into your slick center. Tightening the hold of your thighs, he laves his tongue all over you in focused circles, faster, with just enough force for your legs to start shaking around his handsome face, for another gush of arousal to spread over his swollen lips. All that’s left for you to handle it is to scream it out, how good he makes you feel, how precious, but the house is so silent and only you can hear the slick sounds of his mouth on your clit— he won’t even let you rub yourself over him. You can only bite your lip and hold your breath, yet little puffs and moans sneak out when he does something unforeseen, like a single bite on your thigh or a gentle nip to challenge you— it’s all on purpose and easily noticed by his gratified face.

He tugs your clit a short, miniscule distance and lets it go, shaking his head when you mope over the loss of contact.

“Are you tryin’ for me, sugar?”

“You’re being tough on me,” you whine, shimmying further up his body to regain his lips that are brightly shining.

“If I ain’t tough then it ain’t right,” he whispers, “stay still and quiet for me and I’ll take you out again.”

He tips his head down and forward, swiping his prominent nose to spread you further open, but you don’t even consider the promise of a gift, your focus on the return of his soaked tongue to your throbbing core, biting hard on your lip to quell the need to cry.

“Is my darlin’ gonna come? You gonna cum all over my face? Gimme another one, dolly.” His mouth latches back onto your clit and you can’t think, much less form an answer in your blank head where all you see is white, or maybe blinding stars, or just plain nothingness as you let go, his moustache wet with you, his lips dripping.

By some miracle, the scream you fend off becomes so high pitched in your throat that nothing makes it out of you save for the helpless cry of, “Jack!” as you tremble around his cheeks.

“Yes,” he grunts, and thank goodness it’s muffled by your soaking core; your fingers finally escape his hold to grip at his hair with a fierce, unforgiving tug, and that softer sound fills the room again while your body freezes up and you cum harder this time, covering him, coating him. He grumbles something again, but it’s nothing you could hope to make out in the crushing wave of pleasure that hits you— the light sensation does not leave you, though the shaking eases off as Jack places a tender kiss to your clit, and you jolt at just that velvet brush, his eyes turning sympathetic. You breathe deep, slumping with great exhaustion and the dazed happiness of having him in your room now as you lift your thigh from his body and he leans his head up to grant a quick kiss while it slips away from him.

“Knew you could be quiet,” he smiles under the shine of your second release, resting his arms open over the blanket to welcome you into them.

“As if you don’t make it hard.” Huffing, it’s with a reciprocal smile that you crawl back to him, nearly toppling over on your way with the weakness of his own power against your body, and he chuckles at you, not shying away from his joyous teasing when you throw him a half-glare.

“Did I wear you out again?” he questions, guiding you into his side, turning his body over yours to swipe his tangy tongue over your bottom lip.

Whimpering, it turns into a cheerful giggle as he drops pecks over your nightgown, wrapping his finger around the tail of the ribbon. 

“You just keep going, don’t you, Jack?” you cup his face in your hands, and it’s now that he adopts a sheepish expression, turning his eyes away to tilt his neck and kiss your stomach once more.

“Until you ask me to stop, darlin’.” He lends two more kisses, one to each breast, and then gathers the straps of your nightgown from the pooling of fabric underneath your chest, tenderly helping your arms through the holes. You admire him quietly as you sit up to ease the gesture, letting his fingers guide the intricate lace edges back to your shoulders. He pats the cotton down to smooth it, your thumb stroking over his left eyebrow. His hands pry under you to wrap his arms around your middle, his cheek resting over your belly as you scratch through his dark hair. 

“I think you’re softer than you realize,” you whisper, twirling a lock around your finger and he peeks up, the apples of his cheeks rising in a twinkling smile.

“I can shoot a gun a million times but I sure don’t like it more than kissin’ you,” Jack coos, tickling up your sides and swatting away your protesting hands until you make an involuntary squeak and his eyes widen, hurriedly covering your mouth with his own. You titter over his smooth lips, his weight pinning you as he opens his mouth, taking more. “I’d think I’d have sold my soul to the devil to end up here with you if I didn’t know any better.”

You let the next bubbling ripple of affection take over you when he whispers that with his gleaming eyes, and you kiss him three more times, each slower than the last.

He rests there for some time, indulging in the carding of your fingers over his scalp, and he ensures you’ve drifted off before he rises in search of a cloth. He finds a green one folded by your petticoat, his fingers briefly dragging across its white lace before he dips the cloth in the small dish of water left beside it. He crawls back up beside you, lazily yet with careful attention guiding it under your slip and over your breasts, relieving you of the stickiness. You stir but don’t wake— his touch is too light, yet still unlike a feather— he cleans you off, sets the cloth back in its spot, and resumes his position, nestled up next to you.

-

Sneaking into Jack’s room— or him into yours— becomes a habitual routine after the goodnight click of Mrs. Adler’s door, though you often find yourself with an early visitor with eyes too bright and a needy little grin on his face. It follows his giddy lips on your neck hours before in scarce moments of isolation from other guests, or after he’s stared too long across the bar, and to ease the tension, he’ll ride to take Sylvie to stretch her legs, a sympathetic look on his face at the door knowing you can’t join.

And he wears you out. Nightly. A simmering threat to your timeliness in the morning that you can’t let go of. A single time, he’d taken the sheets with him in a rapid roll onto the floor as Mrs. Adler knocked and knocked outside, calling for you to rise, until she barged in and the thump had to be blamed on yourself, standing in your disheveled chemise. Her shifty eyes become less of a fear in your head and more of a laughing stock, though not as much as Jack was in his stupid course of action to thump on the floor behind the side of the mattress, taking the blankets, too.

His dignity is not lost, though, each time you press on him about it— his grip tightens over your thighs as you straddle his lap, feeling the impression of his leather settling into your skin.

A rare clump of clouds settles over town the following week, lingering long enough to darken this evening further and forcing an early lighting of the lamps inside, a cozy glow over the hectic and crazed state of the bar.

“Let’s not slack, dearie,” Mrs. Adler sings in her urgently high-pitched voice as you handle the treacherous beast of the card game hours, handling too many requests for the strongest liquor from the cabinet, working your wrists as you open new bottles and impatient sighs crumble out of overworked throats.

Jack glances at her, a rapid flick of his angry eyes as he sets his glass of whiskey down, furrowing his brows in obvious disagreement with her words.

“She’s doin’ fine,” you hear him grumble, and you don’t have it in you to turn and face him to offer your surely-silencing glare, and without it he continues, “think we could offer a little patience.”

Chest fluttering, you shut your eyes with a bothersome huff, setting your hands flat over the counter as you wait for Mrs. Adler’s response, and the other men waiting at the dining table chat over things well beyond you, another fleeting mention of the Statesmen— but Jack remains silent along with her, and you can already picture the way he must be maintaining a hard stare at the old woman to leave her increasingly frazzled.

“My girl does this every day,” she states primly, blocking his view of your back with her own body after an uncoordinated waddle, “you keep out of it.”

Jack scoffs, soft but pointed, the wood groaning under the slide of his glass as he moves it aside, “If you cared to notice, ma’am—”

Spinning on your boot, away from the assortment of glasses set over the counter in their stage of finishing touches, you raise a hand, his first name almost slipping out until you choke on the unspoken word, widened eyes earning a mirrored expression from Jack, “It’s alright, Mr. Daniels,” you soothe, and his smirk is much too telling in his amusement of your spluttering, that you’d called him the old, proper name.

Mrs. Adler huffs a victorious breath as she checks over the full and heavy tray, granting approval while you giggle at Jack’s silly face made behind her back, followed by a wink of his eye. 

He closes his eyes as Mrs. Adler finally limps off into her study— what she achieves in there he does not know— and watches you with affection and a warming dose of admiration in his stomach as you handle the tray, setting down shining crystal glasses on the table, a soft smile on your face as the youngest card player offers his thanks. They rarely ever do.

“You look real nice,” he drawls as you round the counter, his elbows sliding along the surface as he leans in, all sparkling eyes and teeth with his wide grin as he follows your steps. “I think I’d like to get my hands on—”

His words fall away to a whisper as you shake your head in feigned annoyance, the laughter stealing your breath as you lean opposite him, taking in the sly look on his face and the pull of his shirt across his shoulders. His hand reaches for yours, tentatively, and you’re powerless against the sweet touch on your fingers as he traces them out, pulling your palm into a bed of his two hands. 

You watch as his eyes set on the random patterns he draws, eyelashes curling against his face every time he blinks, your conscious mind soon oblivious to your placement in relation to the large group at the dining table— but it doesn’t matter. They’re as absorbed in their gambling as you are in his focused touch and feel, your heart an obnoxious flutter when he smiles up at you, a perfect mix of kind and sultry darkness. 

“I’d like to get my hands on you,” he murmurs, those repeated words spoken lower this time and with a twinkle, raising the back of your hand to his lips. A gentle press, your eyes locked together in a soft gaze to match, and he gives you back your hand as the spell of slowed-time is broken by a shocking round of cheering from the group behind you both.

With a subdued grin, you ease yourself away from the magnetic pull of your lips to his, “You’ve always got your hands on me.”

“And in,” he huffs, stifling a snicker at the fifth roll of your eyes today, watching the ends of your tied apron’s ribbon swing around over the length of your skirt. 

“You’d better find something to do in the meantime, or I’ll be asking Mrs. Adler to send you off herself.”

Jack shudders in a fake paddy of fear, the miniscule shakes of his body diminishing the sooner he realizes the severity of your words, and he merely chuckles. “Why’d you want to get rid of me?”

The pleading pull of his face and the wide and warm eyes he gives are somehow not enough to stop you from gesturing your head towards the pile of dirty dishes from dinner, waiting beside the basin. “You’re distracting.”

“Sweetpea, I’m ‘fraid that’s what you’ve got yourself caught up in,” Jack rests his chin in his palm, eyeing the clearing weather outside, “if you insist on woundin’ me, I think I’ve got a horse who needs to go for a ride, and a little lady who’ll have to join us next time…”

“I’ll see you later, Jack,” you whisper, rounding the edge of his ear with your fingers, easing his hair back into place and he adopts a light blush— softer things always more efficient in pausing his heartbeat than harsher things— and he grabs his hat left to the side of him, placing it over his head and bidding you a caring goodbye, “Miss me, darlin’.”

-

Once the room has cleared at last, leaving you in that familiar spot with soapy hands, sore feet, and a wandering mind, you arrange the wet dishes to dry, stacking each on top of the other with meticulous attention. You dry your hands on the fabric of your apron, rough cotton soaking up the water, your back leaning into the hard edge of the bar behind you. The strain in your neck grows sharper as you push your head back, groaning, willing away the next few hours until you can put your feet to rest upon Jack’s lap. 

And at the thought of him, a whistle from the exterior shoots your stream of mental pictures down as your head whips to look out the window, and there he is— Jack, thighs spread wide over Sylvie’s back as he urges her to stop, his eyes straining to find you through the window. Stomach twisting, you make a speedy trip to the stash of berries hidden away, and you pull a handful of them into your apron’s pocket before sparing the parlour a thorough peek and slipping out the front door.

It’s not loud enough for you to make out, but it must be Jack’s voice in a baby soft tone as he tells Sylvie what sounds like “there she is,” with a pat between her perky ears and a smile towards you. 

“Hello,” you grin, stepping to the edge of the porch where you meet the two of them, shamelessly devouring the way he sits tall upon her in the dying sunlight clear of clouds, dark clothes, dark hair, dark eyes, a bandana hugging his neck under his glistening throat. “Back so soon?”

“It was her idea,” Jack pokes, leaning back in the saddle as Sylvie adjusts her hooves into place over the dust and sparse blades of wheatgrass. “Suppose I had to lead her here, though…”

With a hand gliding along her wide neck, you watch his smile only grow in size as he watches you gather the berries from your pocket and throw a quizzical look his way, to which he nods enthusiastically, leaning forward again to watch and guide.

You call her name softly, approaching her from a better angle, and she makes an odd pattern with the movement of her head before she digs into your offered palm of treats, her wide mouth a great tickle on your skin that you try not to flinch at.

“Nice girls,” Jack whispers, swiping his hand over Sylvie’s shoulder, then turning his attention to you. “No more flak from the lady, I’m hopin’?”

“No, haven’t seen her since,” you giggle, “you know, Jack, that was kind what you did, but I am still fine.” 

Sylvie chomps down the rest of your stash of berries, licking the leftover juices off your palm as you gasp, retracting your arm, and Jack extends his hand far across to you in a warm beckoning. You give him the dry one and he laughs when he notices, “I ain’t afraid of no horse’s mouth,” steering you around to where he’s sat on the saddle.

“You’re not even afraid of Mrs. Adler,” you say bluntly, resting your laced hands over the meat of his thigh and then your chin on top, and Jack stares down at your widened eyes, his chest stuttering with a slightly choked breath.

“I came here to see you, darlin’, to tell you somethin’.” Running his thumb over your hand, he starts to lean his body down, your own straightening for his lips to meet your ear in a warm breath, sending ice down your spine and a melting heat between your thighs.

He waits for your prompt, his radiating need causing your posture to wither as you slant up and into him, “What is it?”

Whatever upward curve your lips adopted seconds before falls away as your eyes close, that heat between your thighs now wetter, your grip on his leg tight enough to pinch.

“I’m gonna take you out again tonight, gonna lay you in the grass and fuck you dumb, listenin’ to you whine loud as you can.”

He’s utterly pleased with the visible, hitching breath you can no longer take in, your chest pausing in its stunted passing, and he straightens up his back again to look down at you with his face shadowed under his hat. “Ain’t that somethin’ old girl, the little lady is speechless…” Jack coos to the horse and she puffs, followed by another pat of her hoof on the ground, and his grin is a mix of genuine and egotistical happiness.

“Jack,” you purr, all bothered and wobbly-knees, a helpless look in your eye as you tug the looped rope, and he prepares to ride back off. He doesn’t partake in your pleading this time, instead giving a squeeze of his legs over Sylvie’s back.

“Same place, darlin’,” he calls, “I expect you.” 

A backward glance and a tip of his hat as courtesy— or to make up for his foolish teasing— and his figure dies off in the gunpowder dust behind him and his girl, his jacket the same one you’d worn your first time away. 

-

It’s cool and dark the next time you step out onto the porch, carefully shutting the door behind you, locking it with your key. You rub your hands over the sides of your arms as you creep over the wood, peeking past the pillars before descending the three short steps. Same place, he’d said, so you set off in the direction of the stables, bathed in the soft light of the spaced lamp posts, the same exhilarating rush as the first time bubbling head to toe. 

“Ever heard of a sweet little maid ‘round here?” Jack’s happy rumbling sounds just behind you, turning into laughter at the yelp you let out, its sound squeaky and fearful until he catches you by the waist, pulling your back into his chest to sway your body around aimlessly. “Works for a Mrs. Adler, prettiest face you ever saw…”

An endeared giggle falls out of you, mouth covered immediately by your hand when he comes to place his chin on your shoulder, his fingers pressing tightly to your middle. His clothing feels rough by your neck, unlike anything else you’ve felt him wearing against you, but his cheek is soft and freshly shaven, his lips hungrily kissing behind your ear.

“Oh, I’m not so sure I have…” you murmur, allowing yourself to sink backward into his promising support, and his hum is sweet into your skin when you say so, arms squeezing you just enough for your feet to lift from the ground. 

“She’s got angel eyes,” he whispers, a finger coming to trail down your cheek as he lets you back down, until his hand cups your chin, turning your head sideways to capture your lips in a deep, swelling kiss. Your own hand rises to mirror his gesture, knees suddenly like water with their wobbly weakness, and the ball of your foot scrapes over the dust as he tugs you even closer, tasting your lips. 

“That might ring a bell,” you smile when you finally part, stroking your thumb over his jaw. He likes the way it feels, tilting himself further into your light grip of his face. The world surrounding you will never be the same level of interest when he stands before you— a daydream of an outing only seems as sweet if he’s there. A guidance, of sorts, a protector.

Roaming your eyes over him, a surprised gasp follows that welcoming kiss when you notice his top half covered in a navy blue poncho, its edges finished with white tassels and the wool adorned with white lines making intricate patterns over the length and width of it.

“Where have you been hiding this from me?” you simper, picking up the edge of it to feel the slightly scratchy material. He grins, weight shifting to one foot with a cocked hip, hands resting at the base of his suspenders underneath.

“Hidin’ it?”

“You’ve always got that jacket on,” you murmur, leaning upward, grabbing his face in an internal fit of fondness at seeing him covered in the blanket-like garment, giving him a harsher kiss that surprises him enough to nearly stumble backwards. He gains his balance, beaming against your mouth as he steadies the both of you, the world returning.

“You sure keep me on my toes, little lady,” he breathes, brows raised in bashfulness that you forget he has stored in that cocky brain. “Don’t you stop.”

Humming, your hand falling to rest on his chest as you recall more private contexts to his last words, you notice he wears a cross-body leather satchel underneath the poncho. “What have you got in there?”

“I can’t be full of surprises if you wanna make me spill ‘em all,” he teases, pushing his nose into yours, “come on, just you n’ me tonight.”

With your fingers laced together, Jack leads you through the familiar field to an unfamiliar spot at the top of a climbing hill, large rocks worsening the upward trek under the minimal light.

His hands find the backs of your thighs as he helps you over the last hump and your frustrated huff gets lost in your throat when you realize his hands are helping you up under your skirt instead of over.

“Jack,” you guffaw, using your biceps to push up and over the hard surface and he plays dumb behind you, a deep chortling following as you roll over to the flat space of dry grass above it. Looking ahead you notice a small gathering of wood placed in a circle around the center of the clearing in the trees while Jack rolls up next to you, much more gracefully with what must be years of practice.

He shares a sideways glance with you, “What?” 

His pouty lips drag downward in his falsely innocent question, your eyes rolling without annoyance but with affection. He grabs your hand again, tugging you near the woodpile and he reaches into the satchel, revealing a box of matches in his palm.

“Is this what you did earlier?” you ask, a bewildered softness easing over your shoulders, and he nods with a grin.

“Sylvie n’ I came here to get it ready.”

Sliding the box open, he strikes the match against the rough side of the cover sleeve and the spark ignites a smoking, small flame that he holds to a coil of waxed thread under the arranged sticks and wood. It catches on and flourishes upward, sprinkling tiny sparks that rise then fall by Jack as he recoils, standing back up to his feet.

“How’s that?” he looks at you, pulling you into his warm side, your fingers instinctively wrapping around a tassel. You raise your other hand to hover over the fire, its heat so pleasant and lively on your skin and you look back at him with the same fondness as always for his generous gifts, that might not even be considered a gift to anyone else but you.

“Thank you, Jack.” On your tiptoes, you place a kiss on his cheek filled with all the words you can’t think to say— it’s only a campfire, and to you, it holds all his care, burning there.

“There’s more,” he whispers, and his fingers rise to touch where your lips had just been, then he looks to them and you, smiling. “Said you wished you could run,” he starts, pointing to an old, battered tin can sitting atop a tree stump several feet away, “reckon there’s a few things you’ll need to learn first.”

From underneath the wool, he pulls out one of his revolvers and it shines in the flickering fire, freshly polished. He extends his hand, your own hesitantly touching it’s handle, cupping the barrel with the other as you slowly hold it on your own.

“Jack, I really don’t know about—”

“Careful,” he coos, circling back to stand behind you and placing his hands on your hips, he helps you adjust your grip with the beginning of his lesson whispered into your ear, his hands gentle as they cover yours. “Two hands.”

“I’m not sure I’m the gun slinging type,” you whisper nervously, your palms becoming clammy just handling the weapon, and you remember when its silver glint was pointed at Mr Porter, under its power.

“Always assume a gun’s loaded,” he continues, aiding you in extending your arms out, the aim at the can improving as you go. “Feet apart.”

With the toe of his boot on the inside of your ankle, he pushes your feet further apart until shoulder-width, and your shoe slides over the dry grass as you suck in a deep breath at the physical order. 

“Hold it tighter,” he whispers next, ensuring your fingers are hugging the grip tightly, your other hand cupping the trigger guard firmly. “Don’t leave your finger on the trigger unless you’re aimed and ready.” 

Jack is rasping now, a growing hardness on your ass from watching you handle his own weapon with determination and he pinches your hips, inciting a gasp as you try to keep your arms steady.

“The cylinder's full,” he adds, “you hit the can and I’ll make good on my promise.”

With the shot of arousal that comes after his words and the reminder of his promise to fuck you hard over the grass, it’s too easy to convince yourself that you’ll miss every shot.

“Won’t somebody hear it?” you question, turning your head as far as you can and he hums thoughtfully, pinching you softer.

“It’s luck if you hear a gunshot from a distance,” Jack soothes. And it hits you, that when Mr. Porter and Mr. Bryant started shooting blindly in the house, that those were the closest bullets had ever been to you— and here, you hold them in your palms.

“Go on, sugar, knock it over and I’ll fuck you right by this fire.”

A whine escapes you before you can aim it again, the grip even sweatier than before, the fire merely a glint now as you focus on the target tin.

Locking your grip around the handle, your pointers steadying the direction, you shut one eye, then the other to test the placement, and you pull back the hammer with a stretch of your thumb.

“I’m scared,” you breathe as your arms remain pointed forward, and Jack nods, applying pressure to your shoulders with his palms.

“I’ll keep you steady. S’okay if you miss.” Jack rubs some of the tension away, your arms growing tired from holding them up as you make one last adjustment. The jolt when you pull the trigger is more powerful than you’d expected, and Jack keeps you still as your body reacts to the sharp sound and the full shock of it. The bullet only just skims the side of the can, a tinkling sound following the jarring shot from the barrel.

“Fuck,” Jack breathes, his eyes wide and his smile too, when he looks from your near-shot to your frightened face turning into confidence. He throws his hat to the side, smoothing his hand through his hair before bending slightly behind you, “that was fuckin’ close, darlin’. Go again.”

His tone is pure excitement as you shake off the last lingering threads of apprehension, and you aim again, not a one inch difference from your first shot, pulling the hammer down a second time.

You place your pointer over the solid trigger and Jack’s breath hitches as he waits and watches intently, his hands still supporting your shoulders. This time, when your upper body jostles back from the force, the shot is farther off but still close, hitting the bark where a small explosion of wood chips scatter to the grass and you startle at the cracking noise, casting a worried look to Jack.

“Keep tryin’,” he soothes, cuddling his cheek to the side of your neck as he cozies up, and you’re certain it’s not the best condition for a shooting lesson, the middle of your thighs gathering slick and your palms more nervous sweat. With a deep breath, you stretch your arms out once more, muscles pulling up tight as you adjust your feet, your eyesight on the tin can reflecting the flames of the little campfire.

“That’s it,” Jack whispers as you touch your finger to the hammer, “focus.”

Scoffing, you settle your aim, determined to ignore the way he’s still pressing up against you.

“You’re doin’ great,” his voice scratches just before you pull against the trigger’s resistance and the bullet releases, harder it feels like, and pierces the tin with an incredibly loud metallic pang, sending it fast off the stump. Although you’re not too far from it, you don’t trust it yet; looking back down at the weapon in your hand and then to him, his smile already turns smug. It’s a surprise to hit it at the same time that it’s not— luck or natural talent, you don’t think you’ll ever find out. He shakes his head with pride dripping all over, crushing you into his side with a tense squeeze of his arm, your neck fitting in the bend of his elbow.

“That’s too quick,” you breathe in modesty that Jack tells you to shush away, as your disbelieving eyes fall back on the tree stump, tin can-less. “I wasn’t far away enough.”

“Come on, darlin’.” He disembarks, jogs to the stump, picks up the can behind it. A hole burns through the center on both sides. “Still shot it on the third try.”

When he arrives at your feet again, you peer down at the silver gun in your hold. Struggling to accept your own accuracy, you slowly hand it back to him.

“It'll be harder next time,” he purrs, sliding it back into its holster pocket, “but I think you’ll make the most charmin’ gunfighter in the whole damn world.”

“That’s your title,” you smile, brushing the dark hair from his forehead, curling your fist into the wool draped over him. “And the most handsome, too.”

Jack’s chest puffs out against yours as he preens at your softly-spoken compliment, the tone of his hum pitched in a questioning way to urge you on to continue.

“I’d rather like to learn more about that lasso,” you say instead, fingering where it’s attached to his hip, and he looks at you through his eyelashes, closing his hand around the one fisted in his poncho.

“Hell, if I taught you the ropes I doubt you’d let me out of your room for a whole week, darlin’. We’d better work up to that…”

“Oh well,” you tease, perching yourself up to level your lips with his ear, “you’re too soft on me to be my teacher anyway.”

“Too soft?” He raises his brows, eager to know, causing you to step back as he advances on you.

“Too easy. I ought to shoot that can three more times from ten more feet away just to be sure I’ve learned.”

Jack lays the thick blanket next to the crackling fire after pulling it out of the satchel, motioning for you to come.

“Sugar, I’ll show you rough,” he grumbles, dragging you down to the blanket with him, your chest thumping square on his when you land, a stunted breath into his mouth. His promise, listenin’ to you whine as loud as you can, returns to you now as he holds the back of your neck and opens his lips to brush yours, nipping your lower lip to earn the first wince.

“Don’t disappoint me,” you taunt, landing yourself rolled over and pinned under his heavy weight as he lifts the poncho from his head and drapes it over your bodies, hidden and warm together as you share the fiery heat of yourselves and the physical fire beside you.

“I’d hate nothin’ more than to disappoint you.” He keeps his eyes trained on your face as his fingers creep up your leg, a soft ghosting until he reaches the stark wetness compared to your dry skin everywhere but your core and he’s already groaning at just the sensation of your slick covering his fingers. “Think I could fill you right now, hm? Soakin’ me so fast…”

“I need you to fuck me as hard as you can,” you demand, your head tipping back against the ground underneath the blanket, heat accumulating in your own makeshift tent of the dark poncho. His fingers twitch over your clit as he watches your face twist in effort to get your last coherent thoughts out, “This is where I can cry.”

“Jesus,” his head falls into your shoulder and he rubs his cock on your thigh, covered by his trousers. He’s hard and thick, just as he was watching you shoot his gun, and he lifts your skirt higher, bunching the fabric at your waist. “You always get what you ask for from me.”

Blindly searching with your fingers, you find the buttons of his trousers and pull them open, carefully taking his cock out, the tip leaking generously onto your skin. You spread it for him though it runs out quickly, but your own burning arousal is enough for the two of you as he settles himself closer, his hair flopping out of place. His moustache brushes against your temple when he spreads your legs wider, a soothing slide of your skin over the blanket before you feel his cock running through your slick folds, and it’s enough to start whining. Even the little sounds you let out at the house are suppressed and quietened— here, there is no one but the two of you.

“Give it all to me, baby doll,” he rasps over your throat as he positions himself and pushes past your entrance, slowly stretching you open on his thick cock and your thighs fall open wider, too, your breath heavy and low for him to bask in. “Ain’t that sweet…”

Jack’s eyes carry the glint of the fire beside your bodies as he stays there for some moments, letting you squirm all you need before he flattens you to the ground with his chest, cooing encouraging gentleness to contrast with the untamed way he’s going to fuck you here, on the blanket, again. His cock pushes deeper with the added mass, your whimper not enough when he finally thrusts and hits his hips to your wide-spread thighs and works the wetness of you all over his cock.

“Ja— Jack—” you whine, and his hot hand soon comes to glide over the innermost part of your thigh, rubbing it firmly as if he’s about to—

He spanks your thigh and earns the high-pitch moan he’s been working for all along, drawing himself back to return with a harsh thrust as he keeps his hand on the stinging sensation, groaning out his nose.

“Fu-uuck, there we go, that’s what I wanted,” he grunts through stunted breaths as he sets a new, punishing pace, sliding with ease in and out, hitting deep inside to brush against that satisfying spot that when he slaps the same part of your leg, the pleasure from both makes you cry louder, moan louder.

He draws the wool tighter around his back as he lowers his lips to your mouth, emitting an animalistic groan over your face when you clench around his cock and pull him in closer for another open-mouthed kiss, true and full.

“Oh, god,” you groan, his hand caressing the underside of your thigh, until he draws it up to push your knee on your chest, fitting his hand in the bend of your leg.

“Gimme more, sugar,” he demands, landing a sharp swat to the side of your ass lifted off the ground that gives him your neediest, filthiest sound yet as you fist his hair, taking his brutal pace. 

“Jack, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Fuck,” he curses back harder, “I’m gonna steal you every god damn night for this.” Jack hisses through bared teeth on your collarbone, keening when you raise your hips to meet his. The fire rises beside you at the same time a wave of building pressure in your abdomen knocks through your lower half, and you place your hands on his face, sliding them up to meet his hair.

A shaky breath puffs out of you, the sting of his spankings spreading over your leg as you crane your neck and cry out while he buries himself and grinds against your clit, “You just get wetter n’ wetter for me,” he remarks hoarsely, “just can’t help but need me, hm?”

“I... Yes,” you sigh into his heated neck, your limbs softening in their hold of him as he fucks you hard over the blanket, his grip deathly on the side of your thigh.

“I want to hear it, darlin’, say it to me,” he scrapes, his voice at the bottom of his register, and when the words get stuck in your mind and jumbled out of order from the fullness of your core, he draws himself out and rolls you onto your stomach. Mindlessly, empty, you whine with an equal hoarseness to his own, the end of it pushed out prematurely when he flattens his chest over your back, lining his cock back up with your soaking entrance.

“I’ll pull every last pretty sound you got left in you if I have to.” 

The words are a terrible blow to your senses, sparking a rapid increase in the sound of rushing blood in your ears as he pushes your thigh up to the side and presses down on it with his palm.

“Please…” you breathe, “I’m so close— fuck me, please fuck me again—”

Shutting your eyes, hoping to feel him push himself back inside you, you instead are met with a final, cracking swat on your leg that sends you wailing as Jack waits for you to scream it, “Tell me, sugar!”

“I need you, Jack��� I need you!” 

It doesn’t sound like your own voice. Never has it been clouded by so much desire and such a sinful edge to your witless begging, but it’s enough for him. A push forward, and he fills you; his own sounds have grown needier too, reaching far out. He plants a hand by your face and you grab onto his wrist as he shoves his cock repeatedly deeper and at this angle, you could consider the punishing stretch of him painful, but it’s everything you need, causing you to whine a step higher every time his hips hit your ass.

“You’re all I fuckin’ think about, darlin’,” Jack mouths at your earlobe, your bodies turning slick under the poncho and your clothes, “here you are, shootin’ my gun n’ lettin’ me fuck your tight little pussy, beggin’ for me— gonna make me fuckin’ cum.”

Your jaw drops and an involuntary squeal stumbles from your hanging lip, Jack snarling behind you as he plunges again, hooking his hands under your shoulders and splaying his fingers wide over the tops of them.

It’s a taut stretch of your chest when he pulls on you like that, the soft curl of his hair tickling your neck as he nestles his face to yours and muffles his grunts and groans. You pull up tighter around him, squeezing his cock, nearly driving him to collapse over your back when he feels it happen and what is easily his hardest, neediest and wrecked groan tears out and spreads over your limbs with the rumbling breath he takes after.

“Jaaack,” you whisper, his movements heavily weighing on you, your body resting just at the precipice of something overwhelming, “So… full..”

“I’m gonna fuck my cum into that sweet cunt.” Jack fists the blanket with his supporting hand and the next time he rams his hips forward, a full-bodied scream fills the air, and once more, you squeeze him tighter as you cum hard around his cock, your nails starting to dig into his wrist as he fucks you through it. 

“Baby doll, you’re too fuckin’ good to me— squeeze me so fuckin’ tight when you cum, keep it comin’—”

“Oh god, oh god, oh god— fuck!”  You can’t stop gushing around him as his thrusts lose rhythm, as he focuses more on the sounds you’re making and the grip you have on his cock and it just won’t end, tears beginning to form in your eyes while the movements never cease.

“That is just heavenly,” he says with a strained laugh, “shit, you really did need me, huh? You want my cum inside you too? Want to be spoiled?”

“Yes!” you cry, miraculously raising your ass just a little against his cock as the orgasm finally calms, a growl and a bite on your shoulder at your ceaseless will to beg.

“Take it.” One final, gorgeous moan from his throat and he buries himself, a wet warmth painting your walls, his chest deflating as he settles around your back and rubs your thigh in a soft contrast to what was his stinging swats minutes before. He blows and pants to recuperate, and as he brings himself out, you feel the warmth spreading and dripping down to your clit. For a moment, you share the breaths you’re both trying to catch, but the sensation of his cum sliding over your skin is yet another obstacle to returning to a manageable state of being.

“This…” he whispers, taking his hand back, leaning on his other elbow to support himself as he slides his fingers under your skirt to lead them to your swollen cunt, “is my favourite, darlin’.” He spreads his cum over your folds, milky liquid sliding wherever he traces, and you push back on your knees to raise yourself for him while he guides it back inside you, your throat tired but still whimpering as he pushes his fingers in.

“Keep me inside,” he murmurs on your temple, urging you to lay back down over the plushy blanket, and as you relax, mussed and twinkling by the fire, he drapes the poncho over your body, tucking the fabric under your sides. He strokes your cheek with the dry hand, lifting your head to his lap as he carefully sits by you, your eyes delicately fluttering closed. 

“Did I hurt you?” He asks, and without opening your eyes, you shake your head no. Jack makes a purring sound, considering the moans his actions pulled out of you, and he begins to stroke your face some more. “Hope I never do,” he adds softly, studying your peaceful expression under the firelight and stars, “you’re soft.”

The last two words make you blink and smile up at him, finally granting him a peek which he returns with curved lips, and you know that “soft” doesn’t mean “weak” when he says it.

“I got an idea of where to take you next, if you think you can handle it...”

-

tags for yeehonk idiot:

@filthybookworm @frannyzooey​ @javier-pena​ @javierpcna​ @astroboots​ @userdindja @pedros-mustache​ @princessxkenobi​ @trashcora​ @writerdee1701​ @thelemongeneration​ @libraryofrecs​ @fan-of-encouragement​ @herb-welch​ @writeforfandoms​ @queenofthecloudss​ @leannawithacapitala​ @the-feckless-wonder​ @kesskirata​ @fuck-goes-on​ @lawfulgranola​@apascalrascal @prismaticpizza​ @xemmaloveskillianx​ @littlemissoblivious​ @quica-quica-quica @spideysimpossiblegirl​ @little-big-mac2​ @recklesswit​ ​@frankie-catfish-morales

let me know whether you’d like to be added or removed! 

[lewdbabies]

~The neighbor ~

part 2

nanami kentox reader smut

warning: MDNI, 18+, Raw sex , praising kink, Language, Rough sex, Breeding, smut

Part 2

Work was slow as usual, after morning hours the cafe tends to slow down lunch and dinner were served but it wasn’t very popular. Judging by the way Nanami was in a rush earlier it seemed he didn’t have time to stop by for his regular Black coffee. You lean against the register catching up on the latest novel you’d been reading. Your boss is in the back doing “Inventory “ which really meant taking a nap in the office. You glance at the clock perched on the wall, 1:30 pm, you sigh time was dragging on today. You turn your attention back onto your book engrossing yourself in the literature.

“Hello may I see the lunch menu please”

You jump.

You’d been so enraptured by your book you hadn’t even heard the door bell ring.

“Y-yes W-welcome let me grab that for you one second” you slam your book shut and quickly squat down grabbing a laminated lunch menu.

You look up and you’re met with brown eyes.

He smiles grabbing the menu, your hands brush lightly. You’re panicking, this is the first time he’s ever came to the cafe for lunch. He nods walking to A booth furthest from the entrance, you watch in awe admiring his physic. You grab a towel and begin to buss tables giving him time to decide what he wanted. Your eyes keep darting over at him blushing every Time your eyes meet. He doesn’t seem to mind he gives you a small smile in response.

After a while you walk to the register to grab your note pad and pen. You reach in your pocket for your lip gloss dabbing some on before making your way over to his table. He’s looking down, his brows scrunched in focus.

“Is anything looking good” you call out cheerfully.

“Yes you are” his tongue slides across his lips.

“Pardon?” You asked unsure of what you heard.

“I said yes it is” he rubs his chin staring directly into your eyes.

You ignore it deciding you’re just hearing things, He points to a item on the menu.

“This will be fine “ he states.

“The eggs Benedict, Alright and for your drink?” You scribble on your note pad.

“Black coffee should suffice” he nods to himself in approval.

“Alrighty I will have that right up” you rip the paper from your pad and start towards the kitchen.

“Order up!” You call back, sticking the ticket up.

You were in charge of making all the coffee related orders, came with being a barista/cashier. You didn’t mind though, you learned to Create lots of different foam patterns. Coffee making was fun if you made it, you even created a couple secrete menu items of your own.

You reach for a mug, pouring the freshly brewed coffee inside, steam swirls from the cup. You set the mug ontop of your silver serving tray and make your way back to his table. He’s looking through a stack of papers, his briefcase sits open on the table top.

“Here’s your coffee” you grab the glass in an attempt to hand it to him unaware of how hot it is. The glass burns your hand causing you to drop it out of reflex. It crashes down spraying all over Nanami’s suit and paper work.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry!” You grab a fist full of paper towels frantically trying to clean off his suit. You pat the spilled coffee from his lap, He shifts in his seat.

“Uhn-“ he makes a soft noise catching you off guard.

You bolt up your face is red hot, you look away in embarrassment.

“I-I can pay to have this dry cleaned! Ugh I’m such a klutz-“

He interjects “no it’s fine you don’t have to do that”

“Please allow me too I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t” you bite your lip in guilt.

His eyes darken at the sight of you standing there looking so remorseful and innocent. He looks away for a second debating his next move.

“If you insist, the jacket only will be enough I assure you” he says slowly, sliding his coat off. His arms bulge through his white button down shirt.

He hands you the jacket hesitantly You’re dying of embarrassment.

“I’ll have this back to you tomorrow I swear it” you blurt quickly walking away.

~

“That coffee was a nightmare to get out kid” The dry cleaner complains.

You give an apologetic look as you sign the ticket finalizing the payment.

“Thanks again For getting it done so quick Danny”

“Yeah yeah yeah next time tell the guy to make the coffee land in his mouth got it” you laugh as you wave goodbye walking out the door. You check your phone , 6:10 pm, Nanami asked you to be there at 5:30 but work held you up today.

Luckily the dry cleaners is around the block from your apartment like most things. Before you know it your apartment entrance is in sight, You push the elevator button. It takes forever as usual, when it finally arrives you walk inside. Nanami lived on the same floor as you just opposite sides. You walk down the hall that connects your building’s searching for unit 12.

Your phone lights up, it’s a text from nanami ‘having trouble finding me?’ You laugh to yourself stopping to type back.

‘Closer than you think’ just as you press send the door in front of you swings open.

You jump with a fright, he sure had a way of scaring you. He’s standing there dressed completely different from how you were use to seeing him. He wore a green long sleeve top, Casual dark jeans , his eyes were covered by strange glasses.

“Come on in” he smirks.

You step over the threshold laying the jacket across his cream couch. His apartment was clean, not regular clean, everything was perfectly in its place. Despite all the lighter themes there wasn’t a spec of dirty anywhere in sight.

“I’m sorry I’m late work-“ you explain

“I understand, would you like a drink “ he disappears into the kitchen, returning with two wine glasses and a bottle of an unknown expensive looking champagne.

“Uh-uh yeah sure”

You sit on the couch crossing one leg over the other nervously. The space beside you dips as he sits next to you. You watch the muscles in his hands twitch as he pours your glass. You squirm in your seat, squeezing your legs tightly together.

‘Is he smirking’ you think to yourself watching him out the corner of your eye.

He hands you the drink before pouring his own. He watches curiously over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip, His stare sends a twitch through your clit.

“You like Austen as well?” He asks, you give a confused look.

He continues “ The book you were reading earlier” you realize he must have caught a glimpse at it earlier.

“Oh, Yes I do she is one of my favorites actually” you admit.

He reaches over tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’m sorry im kind of a neat freak I hope I didn’t offend you-“ he doesn’t move his hand away.

“N-no it’s okay” your body is warm, the alcohol creeps up on you slowly. Before you can stop yourself you nuzzling closer into his palm, his thumb strokes your cheek. He slides his hand to the nape of your neck gently pulling you closer as he leans in.

“Is this okay?” He breathes parting his lips.

Your breathing becomes erratic as you glance down at his lips inches from your own.

“Y-yes...” he runs his tongue gently over your bottom lip before capturing them in a hungry kiss.

He briefly breaks away removing his glasses setting them on the coffee table. In one swift motion he grips your waist hoisting you onto his lap, you wrap your arms around his neck in surprise. You lean into him pushing him into the couch cushion his hand travels up your back to your neck pulling you to his waiting lips. “Mmm Uhn-“ He moans slipping his tongue between your lips.

You grind against him the clothing between you becoming an unwanted barrier. His skillful hands slide up your back release your bra clasp, he pulls away flustered and messy hair’d. You lift your arms as he slides your shirt and bra above your head tossing it into the far corner.

“Keep your arms above your head” He orders.

You obey holding your arms up, His tongue attacks your strained nipples. He sucks gently, Using his hand to tease the other, it’s too much to take and your arms drop.

“Arms up or I stop, Little one” you whimper raising your hands above your head.

He sucks your hard bud into his mouth giving it a soft nip sending lighting between your thighs.

“Ah Ah Please mmmnh-“ you plead for more. His hands travel up your skirt pushing your panties aside invading your soaking folds.

“Mmmm so wet already” he brings his fingers to his lips tasting your excitement.

“You’ve been dreaming of this haven’t you, watching me stroke my cock through your drapes at night “ he plunges two fingers inside your slippery hole. You gasp holding back a scream as he finger fucks you slowly.

“Take it out” he demands.

You waste no time unzipping his pants and freeing his pulsing member. You stroke his length admiring how big he is.

“Sit on it” he grips your waist positioning your entrance with his tip. He strokes your slit teasing you making you beg for more.

You grind against him pushing down desperate for him to fill you up. He lets out a feral growl slamming you down on his cock mercilessly.

“Fuck yeah take it, Ah you like the way I stretch your little pussy don’t you” he slaps your ass bouncing you up and down.

He rails into you at a feverish pace, your hips colliding relentlessly.

“ Look at me, Look me in my fucking eyes, show me that pretty face while I fuck you” he groans.

You look at him tears of pleasure staining your face as you get closer to your climax.

He grabs your hair crashing his lips to yours entangling your tongues.

“Ah Ah I’m gonna cum” you cry out, he Drills harder into you biting the soft skin of your neck.

“Cum for me princess, yeah just like that, good girl” he moans.

“Look at me, Look at me, show me how you cum baby, Ah fuck” it sent you over the edge your walls clench around him juices washing over his twitching cock. His eyes roll back as he messily pumps into you filling you with cum. You fall forward, he wraps his arms around you holding you together. You’re both sweat drenched and fucked out depending on each other’s bodies for support.

“You should have spilled coffee on me sooner” he states seriously.

You look at each other in silence before breaking into uncontrollable laughter.

“I agree” you say smiling like a idiot.

~the end💗 comment please tell me who you’d like to see next 🥵🥲

[dragon-of-dreams]

A Debt to pay

My Masterlist

Pairing: dark!mafia!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: noncon; breading kink; threats, murder, readers parents are dead, reader getting hit across the face, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! Seariously, this is some really dark shit with some astonishingly soft sx... No idea how that happened... 18+!!!

No mentions of y/n, and reader is kinda an off because she has a back-story but no physical descriptors are used.

Summary: Your dad dies unexpectedly and you take over running the family cafè. The costs for your daddy’s funeral bring the head of the Barnes family to your doorstep as you struggle to keep up with the payments for a loan you had no idea your dad had taken out with them. You get “offered” an alternative method of payment.

a/n: this was a request by the lovely @oneoftheprettynerds

I hope I did it justice! Thank you for being the most patient person in the world, when Covid, life, exams, life and so on and so forth got in the way of your wish!

Prompt: Can I please get a dark mafia bucky or peter with noncon and breeding kink? With a side of people hitting on reader

 Wordcount: 2,800

 In all seriousness, you had to consider yourself lucky. Most people in this small city had it worse than you. Most didn’t have their own business, certainly not at your age, and most would never have enough money to even dream about that. Your town had the habit of sucking money out of people faster than they could make it and as of late that was also the case for you.

           After your dad had died unexpectedly in a car crash, money had been tight, really tight. You’d never known how fucking expensive funerals were and his drained all the savings you had, just before you’d managed to scrambled together enough for a community college education in business. Now you were left an orphan in your early twenties running a café on only the knowledge you’d learnt from your dad with no prospects of an education. Now you were as stuck as everybody else in town.

           What made matters even worse was the bill you’d gotten two weeks after the funeral. A bill from the one company in town nobody wanted one from. Rich men running successful businesses on the backs of the honest town’s people by draining their money. The mafia. Sharks in suits.

           According to the bill your dad had borrowed money from them 10 years ago. Your best guess was that he had needed it for your mother’s funeral and had never told you. Be that how it may, you didn’t know how to pay that bill. So you asked for time and put in extra hours, keeping the café open til late at night.

           You hated the extra hours. Not only because you got less sleep and had to work so much more and couldn’t afford to hire more employees but also because the later it got the more aggressively people hit on you.

           You hated them. All those men coming in once the sun set, calling you their sweetheart like you were property and grabbing at you and you having to smile and flirt because you needed their tips. Desperately. And yet it seemed to make no difference. There was just no money to be made in this town.

           Bucky Barnes, the head of the Romanov family had given you two months to come up with the next payment, and you knew that you’d end up dead in a ditch with them ceasing your café if you didn’t make it.

           So you smiled and joked with the moms coming in in the mornings and afternoons and flirted and swayed for their husbands at night. When you were in your little apartment above the café after you finally closed you usually cried yourself to sleep. And all throughout the day you would see him. See Bucky fucking Barnes watching you. At first you thought you were imagining it, but he was driving past your café in way too regular intevals, and would even occasionally take up one of your tables. You always sent other staff to serve him, you couldn’t bare to go to him, but his cold blue eyes never left you.

           Over those two month it became abundantly clear that you would never manage to come up with $2,000. And when one of Bucky’s men came in on the Wednesday before the Friday the payment was due, you thought of the 1,200 bucks you’d managed and wanted to cry.

           You knew the man, you’d gone to school with his younger brother Peter who had been a royal pain in your ass, having provided a glimpse of the harassment by the men you now faced every evening. Still you smiled at him: “Steve, hi, what can I get you?” ignoring that you had already flipped your sign to closed and where moping the floors.

           “Hi y/n, a coffee would be great, if you still got some” Steve answered while inspecting your café like he already owned the place.

           “Sure thing!” You tried to sound chipper, but the strain in you voice was audible, as you went behind the counter and got the machine going.

“Sugar? Milk?” you asked, with your back turned to Steve, hoping to draw out the inevitable.

“Just sugar, thanks.” Steve sounded gruff and distant and you knew you’d lost. He probably already knew that you wouldn’t be able to pay. He had accompanied Bucky a bunch of times, never ordered anything, just watched and listened, as Bucky drank or ate. The men had attracted stares. Not only because they were mafia, but because for personified devils, they sure looked like gods.

As you set his coffee before him he asked: “So what can I tell my boss to expect on Friday?” You stared at Steve in his perfectly tailored suit in harsh contrast to the homey but ultimately grimy café surrounding him as you decided on what to say. He looked amazing, and you hated him for it.

Steve raised an eyebrow at you. He was getting impatient. “I… I have a little over half.” You muttered and looked down at your hands, twisted tightly together. “My daddy’s funeral cost so much money, and I” you were interrupted by Steve’s fist hitting the countertop, making you flinch. His rage was pouring out of him so suddenly, taking over everything else. He seethed: “Safe your excuses, little girl. Just make sure to get the money. Bucky isn’t as lenient as I am.” With that, Steve got up from the bar, drained his coffee in one long gulp and left without giving you the chance to beg. You would have. You would do anything now if it meant saving your life. ‘Lenient’, you thought. How was any of this lenient?

           On Friday morning, you didn’t want to get up, much less open the café, but you did both. You put a notice outside that you would close earlier tonight, so Barnes and his henchmen wouldn’t scare off your customers and then you went to work.

           The entire day felt like molasses. Time didn’t move at all, it left you fidgety and nervous. You screwed up more orders than you were willing to admit and then suddenly time jumped and it was 6 p.m. and the sun was setting and you’d closed the café down, pulled all curtains closed except for the front door and were sitting there, waiting. What for, you didn’t know.

           At 6:30 a black limousine came to a stop before your café and Barnes and Peter got out. Which you decided was a good sign. Surley if they were to kill you, they would’ve brought some muscle, not lanky Peter… Bucky Barnes wouldn’t get his hands dirty with you, would he? Or was that what Peter was for? Did he still have to prove himself in the company?

           As Bucky entered you wished it would just end now. To your sheer horror, Peter stayed outside, blocking the door, leaving you all alone with the man you feared most in this world. He looked just like everytime he’d previously entered your café. His suit fit perfectly and you could see the muscle beneath. He was astonishingly beautiful. If he only were so on the inside as well, you mused.

“Hi sweetheart,” Bucky drawled as he approached you, “Steve told me you don’t have my money.” You shrunk in on yourself, but nodded, as Bucky came to tower over you.

“That’s not good, angel, not at all. Why don’t you come out from behind the counter and we sit down and talk about it, huh?”

All you could do was nod. “What happened? Cat got your tongue?” Bucky teased as he grabbed you by the elbow and led you to a boot in the corner of the café, way out of view from the front door. His touch was startingly kind. You had prepared for pain, but were met with kind support. Your brow furrowed.

“I…” You looked up at him. “I g got $1,300. I know that’s not enough, but”

“Shh.” Bucky murmured and pushed you down onto the bench, took of his suit jacket, hung it carefully over a nearby chair and then caged you in by sitting at your side. You were trapped and you were shaking with fear.

Bucky was so much taller than you and even through his perfectly tailored black dressshirt you could see his muscles bulging. You couldn’t decide weather you wanted to start sobbing into his chest or punch him in the stomach. “Steve already told me all about that, angel, don’t worry, I already came up with a new payment plan.”

“You’re not mad?” you question, to terrified to be hopeful.

“Well, I am not thrilled, but I’ve always had a softspot for this place. My pa used to take me when I was little. I watched you grow up, you know?”

Hope bloomed like desert rose in your heart. He knew you! He had a connection to you! That surely meant he wouldn’t kill you. You’d figure out the money. Suddenly you were certain that you could do it.

“really? That’s – I never knew…” Your voice was fluttering with hope.

“Well, it’s a small town.” Bucky’s voice was calm and soothing. You almost forgot that you were squished between him and the wall.

“And with me seeing you grow up, and seeing all the other women in town I decided that you would give me an heir to take here. To watch people with, so he too could choose his wife. An heir for me and forgiveness for your debt and a happy home life for you.” Your world stopped spinning. It screeched to a halt.

“What? No, Bucky, I…” Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulled you close. The arm was tight across you back and stole your words from you as fear spread from every spot he touched throughout your entire body.

“You’re a hard worker, you have a drive for better and higher things. I like that. It’ll make you a diligant mother, you know angel? And that is what I need. A good mother to the boy who will inherit this town, don’t you agree?”

You sit there frozen, unable to reply. Your brain is going a thousand miles an hour trying to find a way, any way, to get away, but before you can do anything Bucky grabs your right hand and presses it to his crotch. He’s hard. The calm demeanour falls off him suddenly as he growls: “Here is how this will go, angel,” he starts to move your hand up and down his crotch, “I will let go of your hand and you will undo my pants and get me ready and then I will have that little pussy of yours on this table. I mean it ain’t romantic, but once you are my little wife I’ll make up for that, sweetheart.”

You swallow hard, press your eyes closed and feel him move his hand over the fine cotton of his suit and his hard length underneath, then you force yourself to nod. It’s a jerking, hurtful motion, but Bucky released you hand, as he leans back on the bench, spreading his legs, opening himself up to you.

You want to thrash out, but instead you shaking hands wander to his belt. “Go on, now. we ain’t got all night, darling.” You are tearing up, but do as you’re told. You lean slightly over him and undo his belt first, then his pants. His cock strains against his boxer briefs and you gulp. Bucky lifts his hips and you push his pants and underwear down.

His cock is beautiful. Long and thick and veined and you can’t help but press your thighs together at the sight. Bucky notices and smirks down at you. “Now that’s a good girl. Keep it up and I make sure you enjoy yourself!” he whispers in your ear as he guides your hands to his dick.

As you jerk him, you realize that you underestimated his size. Your fucked. Literally. There is no way you’re gonna enjoy this. Bucky shoves his left hand up your skirt suddenly and you freeze until he clears his throat and startles you back into action, while his fingers start exloring your sex.

“You know,” Bucky explains, “I find it helps ladies to go down on a guy before actually fucking. Gets them nice and ready, you know?” One of his fingers slides into your tight chanel, “But with you it seems we don’t need that. The sight of my cock alone made you cream. I knew there was something special about you!” He grins and removes his hand. “We might still have to work on your handjob skills though…” he muses, grips your hand and removes it form his dick, as he gets up.

You shrink back but he pulls you out after him. Finally, blessedly, your panic response sets in any you try to struggle, but Bucky’s hold on your arm tightens painfully and his left hand hits you across the face before you even see it coming and it makes your world spin. “Stop it, now!” Bucky barks at you and you freeze. Your feeble attempts forgotten as Bucky lifts you onto the table and rips your panties off. You start sobbing as he bends your right leg to your shoulder and situates himself.

“Sssh,” he cooes at you softly, “I’ll make it better, baby, just one moment.” His suddenly warm voice lulls you into a false sense of security as you stare into his deep blue eyes. They are bewitching you, and you only feel him push in when it’s too late.

He sheethes himself in one agonizingly long stroke. The pain breaks you out of your reverie, you arch your back and groan. It hurts! It hurts so much, and yet you want more, so much more. “Bucky!” you plead, you sob, you whine and once more there it is, the calm voice of the devil now owning your life, rolling in like the tide washing over you, calming you. “I know my sweet pet, I know, just relax now. Just breathe.” And you do. You can’t help yourself.

Bucky lets out a pained moan as you settle around him, and once your clenched eyes flutter back open, once your back comes back down from its painful arch, the god above you starts to move. Every drag and push is better than the last. He hits home every time. His dick lights up a pathway to your pleasure, with every sharp, hard, relentlessy painful thrust, in time with his pubic hair grinding against your clit. A particularly hard thrust shifts his cock so it hits your cervix and you scream with pain and pleasure. Your arms reach up, your hands burying themselves in his thick hair as Bucky leans in closer to you, bending you in half on that table, and nuzzles at your neck as he starts to hammer into you. Every thrust is pure bliss. You want to feel ashamed, you want to push him away, but all you can feel is the drag and glide of his cock, his pelvis against your clit, his tip hitting your cervix. You are on fire and the coil in your core is ready to explode. The intensity of Bucky’s thrusts never wavers, even as you feel him swell even further as his balls draw up and that tiny change breaks you, your orgasm explodes and you cry out in ecstatic pleasure, just as Bucky falters and shoots his cum in thick long strokes into you. His warmth joing yours as he lazily pumps to stop within you.

You only come back to yourself as Bucky pulls out slowly and you can feel your combined, cooling spend trickle down your legs. He eases your leg back down and kisses you softly as you start crying. “Ssh, darling, you’re alright. You’re done. Your debt is paid and you’ll be my wife in no time, the mother to my heir. You did so good, angel!” He coos sweet nothing at you until you can control your crying enough to speak.

“Bucky, I’m not on anything! What if it really takes?” you whimper, emerging from the fantasy he built up in your head.

“That is rather the point!” He snaps harshly. The calm voice gone as quickly as it emerged. You shiver as you realize the extent of what he said before. He really meant it all… Bucky pulls up his pants. “Pack up your things, lovely, tomorrow I’ll pick you up and you are moving in with me, so I can keep an eye on you!” With that Bucky pulls on his suit jacket and heads for the door, as you struggle to sit up, shaking and crying.

At the door Bucky looks back at you, his voice a lot calmer again: “I’m real happy about our new business arrangement as it ensures you will be staying with me, little girl. If only your daddy would have agreed to let me have you, his car wouldn’t have had to end up wrapped around a tree so your little college fund would go away. Sleep tight now, Mama, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”