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Babysitting The Mafia’s Heir Anger, fear, anguish, confusion.
Babysitting the Mafia’s Heir.Chapter 8: Anger, fear, anguish, confusion. .By seven, they're both full from their dinner - and what a dinner it was. Jesse is not sure he's eaten that good in a long time. All the food was already prepped or plated, and all he had to do was heat it up or follow the last few instructions, which actually proved to be a little difficult in such a high tech kitchen. So many knobs, so many buttons. But he managed to figure it out with the help of Indor and a couple of texts to Ivanov, who was actually almost as clueless as him, considering they had a chef. A chef. Jesse eventually ousted Ivanov away and got it sorted. He's got his arm stretched over the back of the couch behind Iandor, the TV playing an animated movie that neither are all that interested in, and Jesse has got one popsicle in his mouth, and the other in the hand behind Iandor as the kid draws lines onto the tablet. They've been at it for the last forty-five minutes, Iandor creating a
Babysitting The Mafia’s Heir Chapter 9
Babysitting the Mafia’s Heir.Chapter 9.He struggles to fall asleep.Iandor has been in bed for almost six hours now, and Jesse for two. He stayed up a while to clean up and try and watch a movie, bring some type of normality back to him. But to no avail. He still feels the tumult inside him, thinking about that file in Ivanov’s office. The file on him. The more he thinks about it, the more the apprehension sizzles into animosity. That fucker. Jesse would have had no problem giving him all the information he needed, would have given it to him willingly. So the fact that he dug - and boy, he dug deep - into Jesse’s life without consent, it bothers him like none other. He's close to foaming at the mouth as he lies there in sheets too soft to ignore, still thinking of a way he can accidentally step on Ivanov’s toes and have a knife recede from the heel of his shoe. Jesse’s plans are disturbed, though, when he hears a noise from downstairs. He strains his ears, because he's heard the
Babysitting The Mafia’s Heir Chapter 10
Babysitting the Mafia’s Heir.Chapter 10."Jesse."It's such a soft, sweet sentiment, and it has Jesse waking up with a smile.Iandor called him when waking up. He sees him as a big brother. But his smile soon slips at the sight of the worried frown between Iandor’s eyebrows, immediately curling a protective arm around him. "What's wrong, bug?" He whispers, voice grainy with sleep."Bad dream," the kid replies just as quietly as he curls up into the space of his chest and Jesse can't help but internally croon at how soft of a gesture it is."Did I forget to turn your nightlight on? Oh, gosh, I'm sorry, Ian, I--"Ian shakes his head against his collarbone. "No, you didn't forget. I just had a bad dream anyway. Can I stay with you?"Jesse feels his shoulders go a little more slack, pulling the covers up around them both, giving Iandor all of his body heat. "Of course you can. I feel safer with you in here too," he confesses, hoping to ease Iandor as much as possible.It seems to work
Babysitting The Mafia’s Heir what a billionaire mafia jerk
Babysitting the Mafia’s Heir.Chapter 11: what a billionaire mafia jerk.After getting the earful of a lifetime from his brother regarding respect and just not being an asshole to someone like Ivanov, life goes back to normal for him. Jesse still insists on not knowing anything, though it seems Joaquin is very careful not to slip up anymore, whether it be from Jesse’s attitude towards Ivanov, or Wallace’s wrath, he doesn't know or care.He keeps on chugging through school life, keeps getting his work done and even combines Iandor’s drawings into one of his projects. The project is entirely customised to him personally, and Jesse bases it on creativity through the years and how it can become morphed by society and reused ideas. The only time Jesse thinks about Ivanov is the one night he dreams of him. Dreams of him coming into his room late at night and wrapping a hand around his neck and squeezing and squeezing until Jesse’s choking for breath and clawing at his wrists. He wakes u
Babysitting The Mafia’s Heir fucking beautiful bastard
Babysitting the Mafia’s Heir.Chapter 12: fucking beautiful bastard .Jesse is emotionally exhausted.He's just finished all of the exams he has for the week, and he didn't think he'd seen the end of them. Friday couldn't come soon enough, it was a blessing. With how much time he's spent holed in his apartment, or the graphics department at school, he's raring to go when Momo and Cassie ask him to come clubbing with him. It feels like it's been too long since he's been able to go out and just have fun now that his exams are behind him. For now at least.He breaks out the leather pants, poor things. They've been catching dust in his drawer for a while now, so it only seems fitting that he wears them. He pairs them with a DIY black sleeveless tee and a thin choker, all with his pink and white silk bomber jacket. He knows he looks good, because he feels good.Jesse goes and meets the girls at theirs, considering they live closer to the district, and they pile into a cab and head to th
Babysitting The Mafia’s Heir trouble trouble trouble
.Babysitting the Mafia’s Heir.Chapter 13: trouble trouble trouble .Jesse sighs through his nose, directing his attention back to his two friends who are now back on their feet and on the makeshift dance floor off to the side. He's tempted to leave them, go home and sleep this off. But he'd be thinking about them all night. He trusts Wallace, trusts Joaquin, but he doesn't know the rest of these guys.Fuck.He drops down to sit on one of the square couches, resigning himself to the fact that he's not going anyway anytime soon. Jesse casts a look over his shoulder to meet eyes with Ivanov, who's wearing that stupid expression again, and he really just wants to punch him. Right in the dick.The whiplash this night was giving him.He closes his eyes when the beat of the music starts to annoy him rather than appease him, slinking down in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn't know how long he sits there like that for, when he feels the spot next to him dip with we
Babysitting The Mafia’s Heir do I really give a damn?
Babysitting The Mafia’s Heir.Chapter 14: do I really give a damn? . With another sigh, he closes and locks the door, leaning his back against it as he turns and faces Ian, fast asleep on his couch. He's got classes tomorrow, ones he can't afford to skip out on, so he'll just have to take Ian with him. He feels a little lost. He hasn't got many kid suited snacks in his refrigerator. He makes a note to himself to get some stuff tomorrow while they're out.Jesse heads over to the couch, being gentle as he carefully picks Ian up and carries him to his bed, helping him out of the jacket he's got on, pulling off his shoes and carefully tucking him under the covers. He makes sure to dim his bedside lamp to the lowest setting, just enough to substitute as a nightlight, and he's just about to turn and leave when there's a soft voice."Jesse," Ian croaks, voice thick and small with sleep.Jesse’s careful as he lowers himself down to sit on the edge of his bed, reaching to smooth down the ki
Babysitting The Mafia’s Heir there is a concrete line
Babysitting The Mafia’s Heir.Chapter 15: there is a concrete line . Over the next few days, Jesse continues to take Ian to his classes and out to lunch and buys him snacks and ice cream and pens and pencils. He always sighs a breath of relief when he gets a text from Wallace telling him he's okay, and he can never fucking bring himself to ask how Ivanov is, never wants to admit to the fact that he's curious about how the older man is. Surely he's okay if Wallace hasn't said anything about it, he reasons with himself. Yeah, that's gotta be it. Ivanov is fine. Despite himself, he's still checking at his phone, finds himself picking at his nails in an anxious habit. Time seems to slow down once Iandor’s gone to bed, no longer having his laughter and curious questions about what he's drawing there to distract him. Being on his own, with his own thoughts and time on his hands-- it's grating on his nerves. A couple of nights later, there's a knock at the door, a slow thump of knuckl
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