Summary: After the events ofPart one , Y/N and Peter hang out at the Avengers’ party.
A/N: You don’t need to read
Part one for this to make sense, but you should because the first part is way better.
had been two weeks since you climbed through the window at Peter
Parker’s apartment, and it was finally the day of your dad’s big party. You weren’t very excited for the party, but it was the first time somebody your age was going to come, so it was worth it.
You put on some sparkly black jeans, and your least casual Tee shirt. That was the best your dad was going to get.
You decided to hang out in your room for a while, and be fashionably late.
When you left your room you decided to go find your Father first.
You nearly bumped into at least five people, but you eventually found him sitting down with the rest of the team.
“Y/N!’” They all greeted you. You didn’t know why; but the team really liked you.
“Sup?” You jumped over the side of the couch and sat down next to Natasha and Steve.
know what?” You raised an eyebrow at Natasha’s words as she smirked, “I
think I just saw Peter Parker,” She wiggled her eyebrows. You rolled your eyes, but you were just waiting for a chance to go and see him.
“Oh just go!”
You laughed and nodded appreciatively.
You really liked Peter, though you had only met him once. You
thought he was cute, and seemed nice enough. He also had a lot of the
same interests as you, so you had something to talk about.
“Yo Parker!” You said once you had spotted him.
“Oh, Y/N, h-hi,” He smiled awkwardly. You looked you up and down before making the decision to compliment your outfit. You
smiled and thanked him, asking him if he wanted to try one of the
appetizers, then following with; “Good, they’re disgusting.”
you felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. You turned around quickly
and acted on your instincts, that just happened to be punching them in
“Oh. My. God.” You said when you turned around and saw your dad’s face. “Sorry!”
“It’s okay,” He strained out as he leaned forward like he was going to throw up. Once he had recovered slightly he cleared his throat,
“So, what are you kids talking about?”
“You.” You joked.
“No, not really!”
okay, well. See you later then.” He was about five feet away when he
turned back around, “And if I come back again, please don’t try to
You giggled and waved him off.
“So, you like going through people’s windows and spying on them?” Peter joked, taking a sip of his punch.
“When I’m bored,”
He smiled and looked at you, for a moment he was lost in your gorgeous Y/E/C eyes.
You waved your hand in front of his face, “Dude, You alive?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, sorry.”
You caught a look of the person behind Peter, and it was Sam. He winked at you and gave you a thumbs up. You made eyes at him and motioned for him to go away.
“Y/N? Are you okay?” Peter turned his head to the side.
“Yeah, it was just a… bug.”
“Hey. There’s this restaurant, across the street. There aren’t any crazy superheros following you around.. Uh, do you wanna go?”
“Okay!” Peter said, maybe a bit to excitedly.
You gave Sam a cheeky grin before grabbing Peter’s hand and pulling him out the door.
Your daughter and Bucky stood awkwardly in your apartment’s living room as you finished getting ready for your date.
Yesterday afternoon, you had been in such a hurry at the grocery store that you bumped into Bucky’s cart at the end of the pasta aisle. After a lot of blushing and charming smiles, you had confidently asked for his number. For someone who had been such a lady charmer in the 1940s, Bucky was flustered by your boldness. The connection was instant though, and you had both decided to go on your first date tonight.
When The Joker told you he found somebody else, your world shattered to pieces. But what hurt the most was the fact that he didn’t even bother to come around and see his little girls; very hard to find excuses on why their father is missing, especially when the triplets adore him. And extremely hard to cope with the gloomy future after you found out some details that might explain his estrangement.
The door opens and you turn around, sniffling.
“There you are,” J closes and locks the door behind him. “What’s wrong?” he asks
when he realizes you’re sobbing.
You rush in his arms and hug him.
“Don’t cry, alright? Save it for when
I’m gone,” he caresses your hair and turns off the light in the office. You dig
your fingers in his skin, having another crappy day yourself.
“You–you’re going to live forever…”
you muster the strength to say it.
“True,” J sighs. “I mean, if I was
Death I wouldn’t fuck around with Godzilla.Things could get messy really
You punch his abs and smile through
“Stop calling me Godzilla!”
“Never!” he grins in the darkness, pleased he can tease you with that…again.
“Where are the girls?” you ask,
wanting to step away.
“They’re asleep, let them be. What
are you wearing?” The Joker whispers in your ear, his hands feeling you up and
“Sweatpants and a tank top,” you
snort, wiping your tears.
“Mmmm, my favorites…so sexy!” he
chuckles and tries to lift you up but you refuse.
“Don’t do that, your back will kill
“Nah, it’s been a pretty good day;
even took a muscle relaxant, just in case.” J pulls you in a tight embrace. “I
think you’re in luck today, Princess.”
“Hm?” you trace his cheekbones, hoping
he means what you think he means.
“That’s why I was looking for you,”
he snickers and you wrap your arms around his neck, excited.
“Are you sure, baby? It’s been a
“Well,” J grumbles, “with my current
health condition, I’m out of commission quite a lot. Not by choice, of course.
Most of the time I feel very sick and…”
“I know,” you interrupt,” I swear I
don’t care. I want you to get better and then…”
“That won’t happen so we have to deal
with it, OK?” he cuts you off. “It’s so embarrassing not to be able to have you
anytime I want though,” he gulps, admitting to the inconvenient truth.
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, Pumpkin, but my pride…”
“Your pride is fine,” you kiss him and he purrs, fired up. The Joker actually
attempts to lift you up again but instead you push him towards the huge sofa in
the room, slowly taking his shirt off. You give him a soft nudge and he lands
on the pillows with you on top of him. Your long hair falls around his head,
just like a curtain.
“Seriously, Y/N, I could’ve picked
you up; you know I like to do that,” he gropes your butt as you get up a bit in
order to take your tank top off.
“No way, I don’t want you to jinx it
and hurt your back. I know what you like so enjoy,” you moan when his lips find
“Auch!” The Joker complains when you
bite his soft skin. “That’s gonna leave a mark on my neck you naughty girl!” he
laughs, panting. “Do it again!”
“Your wish is my command,” you eagerly help him get rid of your sweatpants.
Bad morning for your boyfriend. After
you injected his weekly medication and he swallowed the tables too, the side
effects settled in.
“Your nurses are here,” you announce,
hoping your little surprise will give him a boost of energy.
The triples enter the master bedroom
holding hands and J emerges from under the covers and smiles when he sees how
cute they are: you braided their hair with neon green hair extensions and they
all wear sparkly jeans plus pink t-shirts embroidered with “Daddy’s Number One.” J gets on his elbow to gaze at the high heels they struggle to walk in:
the little ones borrowed some of your sandals.
“Awww, so cool to have adorable
Pumpkins tending to me,” he struggles to appear cheerful in front of the girls.
“Are you sick daddy?” Mia inquires
because you always tell the kids to keep it down when they play since their
father is not well.
“Nope, I’m good,” he gestures for
them to get up in bed and you aid the four year old nurses reach their patient.
“Your caregivers will give you a
massage,” the explanation follows and J turns face down, the little hands
starting to rub his back soon after. You
crawl by his side, watching them giggle and being happy about playing with
their dad. You’re overwhelmed with the view, that’s why you lean over to kiss
his shoulder. Your daughters are fast to imitate you, then they return to their
Emma stops for a few moments and
brings her face close to J’s, whispering:
“Who’s your favorite daddy?”
He laughs and points towards her:
Evie and Mia are on the verge of
crying, that’s why he adds:
“And you, and you. I can’t choose:
all three look the same.”
Oh, the nurses are thrilled to hear
they are daddy’s favorites; there is some pushing around – fighting starts
about who should get more to massage.
“Hey, hey!” you separate the feisty
girls. “Enough, play nice!” you admonish, aware J hates it when they get noisy.
“You don’t play nice, Doll,” The
Joker touches the fresh hickeys and bites he got last night. “Why should they,
huh?… At least you don’t seem any better.”
Correct, you don’t. Ahhh, he’s so satisfied with that accomplishment.
You ignore the remark and roll out of
“I’m going upstairs to update your
meds, alright? I’ll leave you in the capable hands of your caregivers.”
“That sounds good,” he stretches,
enjoying being pampered.
After about 45 minutes, you are
almost done selecting the old pills, injectables and lidocaine patches and replacing them with new remedies. As soon as there is something better available
on the black market, The Joker is the first one to try it. He also has the best
doctors at his disposal, yet nothing seems to improve the illness. From time to
time you take a peek at his recent blood test results: nothing is within normal
range. It makes you feel so hopeless and helpless.
“Moommmy,” Evie whines as the girls
enter the room and you can tell they are pouting, upset about something.
“Yes, honey?” you stash the papers
away in the folder.
“Daddy doesn’t want to wake up,” Mia
puckers her lips.
“Shit!” you jump from your sit in a
frenzy, grabbing a prefilled syringe from the pile of meds on the table. “Go
play, I’ll wake up daddy, alright?” you hurry them out of the room.
You don’t even know when you ended up
downstairs in the master bedroom, attempting to awaken The Joker.
“Baby, wake up!” you soflly slap his
cheek and there is no reaction. “J, open your eyes!” He doesn’t move. You are
quick to administer the shot in his vein; not too much left to do but wait now.
This happened before; the doctors described it as losing consciousness in
your sleep: if action is not taken immediately, it may result into a coma. The
prefilled syringes are a concoction of adrenaline and a bunch of other things
you can’t even pronounce.
You lay by him and place your head on
his chest, listening to the heartbeat. You are so in love with this sound and
you don’t know what you’re going to do when it ends. Just the idea makes you
After about 3 minutes, J is snapping
out of his daze. You keep on stroking his face, grateful the medication didn’t
“How are you feeling?” you rest your
forehead on his, distressed.
“Meh, not very groovy,” the Prince of
Crime confesses, a bit more alert.
“It will get better, just a few more
minutes,” you cuddle by him and he groans in pain.“Tell you what: I’ll send the
girls to the playground with some of our men and we can spend some time in the
jacuzzi. What do you think?”
“I’m not in the mood, Kitten…” J
growls, uncomfortable and bitter.
You intend to skip his behavior and
proceed with your mission regardless.
You gently push him in the bathroom,
impatient to relax.
“Is this what you wanted to show
me?!” your boyfriend grumbles, bothered by the plan.
“Yes, the hot tub awaits,” you guide
him towards the Jacuzzi and he lets go of your hand.
“I can’t do this nonsense; I’m going
back to bed. What’s the point anyway?” The Joker snarls, aggravated.
You go around him and position
yourself in front of the exit, blocking the way out.
“The point is, J…” and you pause for
a second, glaring at the ceiling,”…that I didn’t really sleep in weeks. I’m
absolutely exhausted; can you understand that?” and you sense an imminent
meltdown approaching. “Do you know what I do at night?”
He lifts his shoulders up,
indifferent to your rant.
“I turn on the lamp on my side and I
count all the spots on your skin that I can see. I lose counting and I restart,
afraid there are more than the previous days. I count again…and again…,” you
flair your arms around, sniffling. ”And every 2 hours or so I check to see if
you’re responsive. You get mad and urge me to stop wiggling, but that’s not
what I’m doing: I am actually making sure you don’t slip into a coma… I’m so
tired,” you whimper. “Can you please get in the hot tub? Preferably without
fighting me about it?”
The King of Gotham hates it when you
say disarming stuff like this; it makes him feel so strange and he doesn’t like
“You’re so irritating…” he shakes his
head, undressing. Afterwards, J comes over and takes your summer gown off, then
your undies. You don’t make a sound. “Go in, I’ll bring drinks,” he offers and
J comes back with a can of grape
juice for himself and a glass of whiskey for you.
“Here, it appears you need a strong
refreshment,” he hands you over the beverage, sitting by you amidst the bubbles
and steam. You still don’t reply and sip on the alcohol, discouraged. He
restarts his lecture:
“You don’t have to stay up all night
guarding me. If it happens, it happens…”
You bite on your lip, drinking more.
“I told you before you have to be
prepared,” J sort of mutters. You finish the rest of the whiskey, placing the
empty glass by the burning candles on the rail.
“Be prepared?! How the hell can I be
prepared for that, hm? Am I just supposed to wait around for my partner to die?!” you hiss at him, not understanding why in the world you’re so
dizzy. He wants to answer with a hash comment but you go on:
“I don’t want you to die, OK? “ and
your voice breaks. “I watch you getting thinner and your condition
worsening…It’s harder and harder to keep everything together… I’ll never be
prepared to lose you so stop acting like you know it all!”
“I don’t like your tone, Princess!”
“I don’t care,” you choke on your
words, groggy from the strong alcohol. “God, I’m so worn out,” and your eyelids
are getting heavier.
“Wanna take a nap?” his voice
“Nooo, I can’t afford to. The girls
will be back soon and…”
“The kids are fine. I’ll watch them,”
J offers and you have a hard time concentrating.
“We’ll stay in here for another 20
minutes, then you’re free. Sorry it was such a hustle,” you yawn, rubbing your
eyes, miserable and heartbroken.
The Joker is silent until you feel
you’re going to pass out in the jacuzzi.
“Jesus, I need to lie down,” you huff
and he helps you out, wrapping your body in a fluffy robe. He gets inside one
also while you stumble, having a hard time maintaining your balance. “Wow, I
think I had too much to drink,” you talk to yourself and he catches up with
you, lifting you in his arms before you can protest. “Put me down, your back
will hurt!” you beg and want to escape but his grip is strong.
“So?” J kisses your forehead and the
weakened state you’re in adds to the sorrow.
“Don’t leave me, please don’t leave
me,” and you start crying on his chest, feverish and out of it, not being able
to think straight. Your cheeks are so red and you look so lost that The Joker
finds it impossible to leave your side once he places you in bed. He holds you
tight, watching you fall asleep, still agitated and worried with all the
problems clawing at your restless mind.
You have no idea that he crushed two
of his sleeping pills and put them in your whiskey after you told him you’re
exhausted. Now J is the one awake, protecting you and your troubled dreams.
It’s the most a man like him can do: when you struggle with your own demons,
letting someone in might feel like vulnerability. But damn, he doesn’t even
care and despite the fact that he hates everyone, there’s still that secret list with
a few people he actually likes: the obnoxious Godzilla and three little
Pumpkins with no names.
“Tonight I’m going to meet with Jax
and get your new medication. Do you want to come?” you raise your voice to
cover the girls’ screams: they are chasing each other in the living room.
“Yes, I’m coming. Dolls, calm down!”
he warns, being a foul mood: the blood tests came back bad again. And you’ve
been fighting a lot lately: his attitude worsened and his patience diminished
even more as you scramble to hold it together. The fact you don’t feel too well yourself doesn’t help the situation.
You cram a lot of hundred dollar
bills in a suitcase as payment for the drugs while the commotion intensifies.
“I want to…Girls!” The Joker yells
and your daughters laugh louder and scream up a storm, staggering around the
“Huh?” you try to pay attention since
you didn’t comprehend what he said.
“Quiet!!” he shouts without success.
“That’s enough,” you tell them also
since you notice The Joker is annoyed.
They don’t listen and he snaps:
“Can you SHUT. IT .DOWN ?! Are you all
deaf, can’t you hear me ?! ” he lashes out and the triples stop, frightened at
how menacing he suddenly is. “ You can’t even die in peace in this house!!!
Always so much noise!! Don’t I deserve to die in peace, alone and without being bothered???!!!”
You’re stunned at the harsh words and
the girls gather around you, clinging to your dress and shoving themselves into
J is taking deep breaths, passing his
fingers through his green hair, pissed at the disobedience. You really don’t
need this on top of everything else. You take the car keys from the coffee
table near you, struggling to make the girls get in the elevator since they are
rather terrified at their father’s outburst.
“We’re going to the beach girls,” you
sadly smile at them, holding the small bodies close to yours. Usually there
would be a bunch of jumping around and excitement at the news, but not today.
Before the elevator’s doors close,
The Joker hears one more sentence from a very upset girlfriend:
“You do deserve to die alone.”
It’s so difficult for J to drive on
his own to the beach house. He has to pull over a few times since the splitting
headache and vertigo prevent him from focusing. After taking some tablets to
help out with the discomfort, he’s able to get to his destination. The first
thing he does is rush inside the bathroom by the entrance, wanting to wash his
face with cold water: he feels so warm.
As he wipes his face by the sink, his
eyes wonder on the top shelf of the cabinet and his hands drop the towel: four
different pregnancy tests, all positive. You probably wanted to make sure.
“Shit…”, he mutters, grinding his
teeth. He keeps on staring at them, fidgeting with his jacket.
“Hey, sweethearts!” The Joker hears
you sliding the glass door that faces the beach.“Are you hungry?”
The little voices answer, but he
can’t distinguish what. Too windy out there.
“Ok then, I’m coming back out, let me
know when you want to eat,” and you exit the house again in order to return to
your cozy lounging chair on the terrace, watching the girls building a sand
castle a few feet away.
You see his shadow approaching and
you curl up, bringing your knees to your chin, ignoring his presence.
“Very quiet at the penthouse, I got
bored after 10 minutes,” he sighs and you gaze at the girls that are so caught
up in their project that they didn’t detect their father yet.“How many men
should we take with us tonight?” J chitchats, yet his effort is neglected. “Do
you still want to go and get my medication or should I go alone?”
Since you disregard his questions, he
has to resort to the last ace in his sleeve.
“I don’t want to die alone, Princess;
I rather have someone irritate me until the last moment. You and the three
brats seem to be experts in that. Or is it…four
brats?…” he hints towards the little finding in the bathroom.
Evie is the first one to notice her
“Daddy’s here,” she makes the other
siblings aware of The Joker’s whereabouts. They stop their play date and
cautiously approach when he signals them to come closer.
Emma squeezes Mia’s hand, halting a
few times before being dragged in front of her dad. The triplets look at you,
not knowing what to do.
“Why are you crying, mommy?” Evie frowns and J distracts them:
“Who wants to sit in my lap, hm?”
“Me…” the shy answer comes from Emma.
“Me too…” Mia follows, pulling on her
ponytail; she does that when she’s nervous.
“Daddy’s mine,” Emma whispers,
insecure for once.
“No, he’s not!” she gets pushed out
of the way by Evie. “He’s mine!”
“No-ooo!!!” Mia bickers. “Daddy’s
“Com’ere!” J puts an end to the
fight, lifting all them up on his knees. So hard to fit all three but he
You watch them without saying a word,
wiping your tears from time to time. He sure has a unique way of apologizing,
but you are certain that’s what he means by showing up here when it’s clear he
doesn’t feel good.
“You came alone?” Jax lifts his head
up from the suitcase you brought him, reckoning the money’s all there.
“Is that the medication?” you reply with another question, eyeballing the box
on the desk.
“Yes, it is. A year’s supply: an
injection every six months. Gossip is it works pretty well; VanCriss Laboratories does a lot of researches in the domain. Hopefully it will work for
Mister Joker. How is he?”
“He’s ok,” you cut him short,
reaching your hand to take the box .The smuggler has a proposition:
“I can get more of this stuff… for
the right payment,” he grins, admiring how pretty you are in the red dress.
It’s J’s favorite and you are wearing it because he’s taking you on a date
“Money is not an issue. Name your
“Oh, honey, I wasn’t thinking about
money,” he winks and you snicker. “Not to be disrespectful, but with Mister
Joker being ill, I’m sure he can’t take care of your needs anymore. Such a
beautiful woman with nobody to satisfy her.”
You start laughing and hop on the
desk, sliding towards him.
“Are you forgetting who I am?” you playfully
kick his knee with the tip of your black stilettos.
“Not at all. I’m just offering my services,” Jax smirks, caressing your ankles.
“So nice of you, darling, I’m
flattered,” the prompt reply makes him full of hope. “But there is only one issue…” and your glossy lips come very close to his. “A Queen only shares the
bed with her King,” and you kiss his cheek, amused.
“I’m sorry, am I interrupting?” The
Joker knocks with his gun at the cracked door.
“M-Mister J, I didn’t know you came…”
the smuggler stutters, suddenly startled.
Your boyfriend creeps inside, his
blue eyes darkened by the dim light:
“Say, Jax, does Y/N look like a
prostitute to you?”
“You just asked her to fuck you. Does
she look like a prostitute to you?” J repeats, his fingers tightening on the
“No, no sir, not at all. I swear I
“Hey, boys!” J shouts, halting Jax’s
clumsy atonement. “Does my woman look like a hooker?”
So many voices answering back from
outside the room:
“No Mister J!”
You brought about 25 henchmen with
you; they’ve been quietly waiting out there since you got in.
“It’s unanimous: she doesn’t look
like a whore,” J cracks his neck, the feeble lighting making him so eerie since
he’s skinnier and even more pale than usual.
Jax is freaking out and holds his
“Apparently I’ve been laying low for
too long: Gotham seems to have forgotten it belongs to me. My subjects,” he emphasizes, “have the nerve to shamelessly insult me
and my girl. I don’t take kindly to such affront!” The Joker signals and you
jump off the desk, going by his side.
“Mister Joker, you can take the meds
and the money back too,” the idiot tries to fix his huge mistake.
“Oh, trust me: I am, “ J barks, “ even
if I don’t need the stupid drugs.”
Jax seems confused.
“Didn’t you hear the rumor?” The
Prince of Crime yanks at your waist, purring. “I’m going to live forever. Now, if you would excuse me, I have a
date,” he places back the gun in his holster and the smuggler exhales,
You two pass by your men and head out
not before J orders:
“You know what to do. Don’t clean the
mess, we’re sending out a message!”
He speeds up towards the club on Savros Street
that will be closed all night. It’s opened just for you and The Joker.
“Pumpkin, what do you want to drink?”
he takes your left hand and kisses your silver painted nails while you enjoy the breeze
coming from the rolled down windows.
“I guess I’m stuck with juice, I can’t have any alcohol,” you close your eyes,
keeping your other hand on your tummy.
“Yeah, me neither, so we’ll have to manage,” J kisses the tip of your fingers one more time before letting go. “Take a nap;
I’ll wake you up when we get there.”
“U-hum,” you get comfortable on your
side, excited you are out and about with him.
J continues to drive, only one thing
in his mind for the moment: that list of his… with nameless people he likes
will have to expand soon. Such a small list, very few people…
A/N: Dialogue is in Italics, Text Messages are in Bold. Let me know if you want me to continue the story.
-Y/N, I need you to work tonight. Misty is still pretty sick so she can’t come in. I know it’s your day off, but we need you.
Ending the voicemail from your boss, Cal, you threw your phone on the floor. You had planned on going to the beach with your friends, not working. It was supposed to be your first day off in nearly three weeks. Cal knew you needed the money, but you were beginning to feel like he was taking advantage of you. Scheduling you every night, even though he had six other bartenders.
-Hey, Leah, it’s Y/N. I can’t make it tonight. Cal needs me to come in
-What!? Y/N, we’ve been planning this trip for weeks!
-I know, I’m just as mad as you. I am honestly debating looking for a new job. I’m sick of this shit.
You hung up with your best friend so you could get ready for work. The dress code at Club Escalate was literally “slutty-chic”. It said so in the handbook.
Picking out a pair of red leather short shorts, a cropped white tank top, black lace bra, and black Converse sneakers, you threw your long pin-straight brown hair into a ponytail, slapped on some mascara and red lipstick, and locked up the apartment.
Obnoxious pop music blared from the speakers as you walked in through the club from the back entrance.
-Y/N! So glad you could cover tonight! Cal shouted.
You rolled your eyes, tying an apron behind your back. Walking up to the bar you saw you only had one customer, who was already sipping a cocktail. Jennifer propped her elbows on the counter beside you.
-It’s been so dead, dude. I have literally had 6 people my whole shift.
Your shoulders sagged. This was going to be a long ass shift…
You were four hours into your shift and only had two people come in. Finally, at 1:46am, a group of five people came in. They sat at the bar and were all engrossed in conversations. Clearing your throat, you began my mandatory speech.
-Hey, boys. Welcome to Escalate. My name’s Y/N and I’ll be taking care of ya tonight. We’ve got $2 pitchers of domestic beer tonight as well as shots for $1.50.
A few guys just ordered waters and went to the pool tables. Two decided to stay at the bar. One was tall with short black hair and brown eyes. The other was just as tall with brown hair and bright blue eyes. He smiled at you.
-I’ll take a whiskey sour, gorgeous.
You returned the smile and made his drink.
-Nice to meet you, Jared. Do you come here often? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you.
He shook his head, making his hair fall in his face.
-No, we are just in town for the night. I’m actually in a band and we are on tour.
You made him a new drink and handed him a napkin.
-Well in that case, I would like your autograph. It might be worth something on eBay.
You winked at him. He laughed and scribbled on the paper. He put his phone number underneath his name. Looking up at him from the napkin, he winked back at you.
-I’ll be in town for a few nights. If you’d like, I would love to take you out.
Smiling, you walked away to the kitchen to get more glasses. When you returned to the bar, Jared and his friends were gone. There was a $100 bill on the counter. Their tab was only $14.38. As you picked up the money, your phone buzzed in your back pocket. It was Jared.
“Keep the change, beautiful. Can’t wait to see you again. PS your legs are fucking flawless”
Finally, 3am came around and you drove back to your apartment. You undressed and took a quick shower. The hot water hitting your muscles, loosening the tension. You stood there for several minutes, breathing in the steam, until the water began to cool. Settling into bed, your phone buzzed. It was Jared again.
“Hey, beautiful. Are you awake?”
You debated on replying. Ah fuck it, you thought.
“Yep. Just got in a little while ago.”
“So what would you like to do tomorrow?” You smiled at your phone.
“Where are you staying?”
“The Hilton. Why?”
“I’ll pick you up at 2pm. Wear comfy shoes.” You set your phone on your bedside table after turning it to silent. It didn’t take long until you fell asleep.
A clap of thunder shook your apartment, waking you up. You glanced at your phone.
11:13am. Fuck. There went your idea of taking Jared on a walk through Gingrich Woods. You grabbed your phone and typed a text.
“Hey, so thanks to the weather, my plan won’t work. Have any ideas for today?”
Not even a minute passed before your phone vibrated.
“Well, we could just hang out and watch movies or something if you’d like?”
You scoffed, writing your reply.
“Netflix and chill, huh? I see your intentions.”
Instantaneously, he responded.
“No no no. Okay, movie is a bad idea. How about we go shopping, get dinner, and then go to a concert tonight? I’ll still be ready at 2 unless you wanna go sooner.”
“I will get ready and be there ASAP. See you soon xoxo”
You threw your phone onto the table and ran into the bathroom to curl your hair. You pulled on a pair of skin-tight jeans, a sparkly gold tank top and a dark brown leather jacket, slipped on matching boots, and brushed your teeth. Once your makeup was on, you saw that it was already 1:51pm. You grabbed your purse, tossed your phone in it, grabbed your keys off the counter, and headed out the door to go pick up your date.
Jared was standing underneath the awning outside the hotel, watching for you. You never told him what kind of car you drove, so he didn’t know what to expect. You pulled your 1999 red Volkswagon Beetle up and honked. Sliding in, you softly punched his shoulder.
-Slug-bug red, no slugs back
-You cheater! He shouted, smiling. Once he was securely buckled, you pulled back onto the road in the direction of the mall.
You and Jared had been into almost every store. He insisted on buying you a gorgeous royal blue pair of heels. You used the extra money from his tip at the bar to buy him a brown leather jacket, which just so happened to be the men’s version of yours.
-So, where’d you like to go for dinner? You asked, driving out of the mall parking lot.
-Wherever you’d like. He was too easy going. You needed a challenge.
Smiling devilishly, you took him to your favorite Italian restaurant, Fabrizzio’s. You had worked here when you were 16 and fell in love with the shrimp linguine.
-Ooh we gotta get going! Jared spoke up after a fairly silent dinner. You protested as Jared paid the bill.
-This was my restaurant choice, you should have let me pay for it.
He gave you a warm smile.
-Y/N, believe it or not, but I practice chivalry. Especially on my first date with a stunning woman. Blushing, you looked at the ground. You felt Jared’s hand slip under your chin, lightly lifting your face back up. You looked into his eyes. You still were mesmerized by their piercing blue color.
Jared placed a soft kiss on your forehead. His hand slipped down your arm and held your hand, pulling you out the door to your car. His hand stayed in yours the entire ride to the venue.
You went to pull into the parking lot but Jared stopped you.
-Park in the back, Y/N. We can take this entrance.
You looked at him, confused.
Instead of replying, he just looked at you and smiled.
The two of you walked in. He whispered in the ear of one of the security guards, who let us through.
-Jared, we are backstage! Who is even playing tonight? They must be popular because it’s packed our there! You glanced over the crowd. Jared held your face between his hands.
-I will be right back, okay? Just stay right here.
He kissed your forehead again and slipped away through one of the doors. You stood side stage, watching a tech bang on the drums to make sure they were tuned. The crowd was chanting “Mars! Mars! Mars!”
Ten minutes passed and Jared still wasn’t back. You tried sending him a text but it wouldn’t go through. You didn’t have signal.
He ditched me… You thought. You felt your eyes start to fill with tears. Just as you were about to turn around and leave, Jared walked in with a couple of the guys from the bar from last night.
-Hey, I was starting to think you abandoned me You said with a laugh. Jared put his hand on your cheek.
-No, babe. I had to go get the guys. Sit tight, okay?
He started talking to one of the sound guys. You didn’t know what to think about more. The fact that he called you babe (swoon) or why he asked you to sit tight. While you were thinking, you didn’t even notice the fact that Jared and the other guys had gone on stage. The crowd went crazy, screaming. Your jaw dropped. Jared’s band was playing tonight.
The concert was incredible. There wasn’t one fan out there that was not singing along. Jared had an incredible voice. You were so mesmerized by it, you didn’t even pay attention to the end of the show. The guys walked off stage and Jared came straight to you.
-Hey, I am going to take a quick shower and then we can go, okay? You smiled hugely and nodded.
After a few minutes, Jared came out of the dressing room, wearing a white v-neck tshirt, black jeans, and brown boots. He walked up to you, putting his arm around.
-For what? You asked. You weren’t aware there was more date night ahead of you.
-Well if you want, we can go to either your place or mine. Disregarding the ‘Netflix and Chill’ stereotype, I actually want to watch a movie with you.
Smiling, you nodded, leading him to your car.
-I have a pair of pajama pants that you can wear so you’re comfy, you offered. Jared smiled warmly as you tossed him a pair of Hello Kitty pants. He went to the bathroom to change and returned in the pants, with no shirt on. You had to keep yourself from staring at his toned body. After changing into a cami and shorts, you cuddled up next to Jared on your bed, turning the TV on. He was forcing you to watch American Horror Story since you’ve never seen an episode. Trying to focus on the screen, you kept glancing at Jared, who hadn’t taken his eyes off you.
-You’re missing the show you told him, finally meeting his eyes. He smiled.
-I’ve seen this one already. You nodded, smiling disapprovingly.
Y/N had the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen. You couldn’t stop looking into them, even when you were supposed to be watching TV with her. You couldn’t take this anymore. You needed your lips on her body. You slid your hand against her neck and pulled her closer to you, pressing your mouth to hers. She didn’t object, placing her hands on your chest. She tickled her tongue against your bottom lip. You immediately opened your mouth, invited her in. Her arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. Tossing the blanket to the side, you crawled on top of her, trailing kisses along her jaw, along her neck, your hands sliding up her sides. Her breath started to deepen. You looked up at her. She had her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed.
-Baby, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to
-Shut up, Jared, she said breathlessly. You pressed your lips onto her collarbone, smiling into her skin.
Five minutes later, both of you were nearly undressed. Y/N was down to only her panties. You had your boxers on. You kissed down her torso, reaching her panties. You kissed her core from the outside, her breath catching. Her fingers found your hair as you pushed her panties down her legs. Kissing and nibbling her thighs, you wanted to drive her crazy before giving her pleasure.
-Please, Jared. Please fuck me, she moaned.
-In due time, baby. You slid your tongue from the bottom of her heat to her throbbing clit. A moan left her lips, her fingers grasped the sheets. You circled your tongue on her, gently sucking. Slowly, you inserted one finger into her, pulsing and sucking in the same rhythm. You felt her squirm under your mouth. With your hand that wasn’t inside of her, you reached up to play with her nipples. This pushed her over the edge. You felt her back arch as she screamed your name, releasing all over your face. You licked her clean and kissed back up her body. She grabbed your face and kissed you deeply, almost hungrily.
-Someone is eager, you whispered.
-Just fuck me, Jared. Her blunt words nearly made you cum right then and there. You pulled your boxers down and lined yourself up to her entrance. Her eyes met yours, signalling that she was ready. You pressed in, filling her completely until you were enveloped. Thrusting, your pace quickened, as did Y/N’s moans. Her nails dug into your back. You grabbed ahold of her ankles and held them in front of you for deeper access. You could tell you were hitting her sweet spot when her moans turned into screams. She bit her lip in ecstasy and moaned your name as she finished a second time. You followed her right after, pouring your seed into her. Breathless, you collapsed next to her. Neither of you could hardly move, but you managed to pull her against your chest.
Mr. Partridge has
been dead for at least a decade. I don’t remember him much; I mostly remember
him as a large, burly man with broad shoulders and a gruff manner. He planted a
Christmas tree farm, and he ran it with the aid of his wife and four sons. The
Christmas tree farm took up a few acres of land behind the Partridge homestead.
Hills of festive green trees rose up behind the house, making it look like a
quaint little cottage in the middle of an enchanted forest.
Mrs. Partridge is the sweetest little old lady you could
ever hope to meet. She loved the Christmas tree farm as much as her husband,
and she poured every ounce of herself into it right up until the end. She baked
gingerbread cookies by the hundreds and kept a vat of piping hot cider on the
front porch. The cookie and cider stand was manned by her grandchildren and the
money it made went to the local high school.
We’ve always gotten our Christmas trees from the Partridge
farm, and when I entered my freshman year of high school, Mrs. Partridge said I
could make a little extra Christmas cash working with her sons and grandkids.
Most of the local kids either worked or volunteered at her Christmas tree farm,
and I had a lot of fun until this past Friday, when the farm was shut down.
The Christmas tree farm officially opens on Black Friday.
The mall may be crowded with early-bird shoppers, but once they’ve got the hot
new toy of the season, they need a Christmas tree to put it under. From sunup
to sunset, Mrs. Partridge and her granddaughters churn out gingerbread men
while her sons, grandsons, and everyone else helps shoppers find the perfect
I know I’ve painted the Christmas tree farm as this cozy
little haven, but working there has made me a little jaded. Don’t get me wrong,
Mrs. Partridge is an amazing woman, and there are times when I loved my job.
But, as with every job, not every day is going to be sunshine and gingerbread
men. The bigger, taller boys – myself included – we’re the ones lugging the
tree to the car, hoisting it onto the roof, and tying it down. It’s not unusual
to head home at the end of the day with aching arms and a sore back.
I still had fun, though. After all, most of my friends
worked for Mrs. Partridge, and it did give me an excuse to hang out with her
granddaughter, Samantha. Samantha was in my Spanish class, and while I floundered
and got verb tenses mixed up, she took to it easily and made it sound like the
most beautiful language I’d ever heard. I would fantasize about having her
tutor me, but never got up the nerve to ask her for help.
At least at the Christmas tree farm, I had an excuse to talk
to her. She was usually helping her grandmother with the endless batch of
gingerbread cookies, but she’d occasionally come out of the house, smelling
like cinnamon, to help put together wreaths and garlands.
Anyway, the farm was mobbed with Black Friday shoppers
looking for the perfect Christmas tree. The crowd was thick and energetic;
parents carried babies bundled into snowsuits and older kids ran amok, playing
hide and seek in the false forest. I caught brief glimpses of Samantha as she
handed out gingerbread men and styrofoam cups of steaming cider. She was
wearing a sparkly red sweater and jeans that might’ve once been dark blue; they
were spattered with flour. Her black hair was tied back with a festive green
ribbon, and she was beaming as she leaned down, offering fresh cookies to small
The Christmas tree farm closes at sunset, and the crowd had
begun to wind down by threeish, seeing as the sun was due to go down at 4:15pm.
I was attempting to tie a six-foot tree to a VW Beetle when I noticed the kid
for the first time. I didn’t really pay any attention to him, but given what
happened later, he stands out in my memory.
Cutting down the Christmas tree is always a family affair,
but sometimes you can tell that the older kids don’t want to be there. This kid
was maybe twelve or thirteen. He was wearing a dark gray hoodie and was
thoroughly engrossed in something on his cell phone. His mother looked harried,
as if she might burst into frustrated tears at any given moment. A wailing baby
was strapped to her chest, and she was pushing a red-faced toddler in a cheap
plastic stroller. I’m no expert on baby carriages, but I knew that this thing
would be a bitch and a half to navigate through the grass and mud. The woman
fumbled with the stroller, trying to shush the crying toddler. A small, yappy
dog pranced energetically around her heels barking its head off.
“Dammit, Aiden, help me with the dog!” the woman’s voice was
thin and hoarse. She must’ve wrangled these kids and the dog through a crowded
mall before she even arrived at the Christmas tree farm. Part of me wanted to
take her by the arm, lead her back to her car, and tell her to go home and get
some sleep. There were more than enough trees to go around; she could come back
tomorrow without the kids.
The older kid – Aiden – grabbed the dog’s leash and jerked
it away from his mother without bothering to look up from his phone. The dog
promptly turned to Aiden and began to bark again. Aiden trailed after his mom
as she brought the wailing baby and the sobbing toddler out among the trees.
This wasn’t a really unusual sight. I’d seen disinterested
kids and crying babies at the Christmas tree farm before. Sometimes, I think
parents underestimate the amount of energy their kids have. Tromping around a
chilly Christmas tree farm for hours might be OK for Mom and Dad, but I’ve
noticed that the littler kids tend to get tuckered out quickly and get bored
even faster. At some point, all the Christmas trees start to look the same, and
the kid doesn’t care about whether or not it’s “shelfy” enough or how much
needs to be cut off the top so it’ll fit in the living room.
The guys and I managed to finish tying the Christmas tree to
the top of the VW Beetle, and I forgot all about Aiden and his beleaguered
mother. We were quickly distracted by the sound of shouting.