#Then it's only 2 more chapters holy shit man | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scarlettmurphy · 4 months ago

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STARCROSSED PT2 +ੈ✩‧₊˚ LOGAN HOWLETT.

logan and y/n — where you are completely in love with a man older then you’re father by a good century or so.. whose completely in love with another.

- content warning age gap (is legal) drinking. explicit. swearing. dirty humour. comfort (an ounce). drugs. nsfw. sick. body issues. sh. angst.. maybe happy endings?! pairings: older!logan howlett x xaiver!reader. logan howlett x jean grey.

spoiler: insane yearning and angst i’m sorry im too far gone ☹️ happy ? where.

note this is part two to starcrossed, prepare for even heavier angst!🫶🏻 i didn’t realise how sad this was until i finished the chapter and realised holy shit this is long. part three is already in the works. i hope u enjoy it! make sure to read pt1. it’s a bit diff from the first one but i hope u like it still. also if you’ve seen the movie ten things i hate about u the mid bit of this might remind u of that one scene if u get me :) song: need you now by lady a cos i was listening to it and jeff buckley whilst reading this? also on the timeline im going for like xmen 2 time i think?

tags — @faceache111 @malfoys-demigod @navs-bhat @dilfismz @thisbipuff-isaswiftie @twinky-wink @thewiselionessss @thecraziestcrayon @awhoreforalotofshows @emily-b @jae48 @cxptainbuck @444st4rg1rl 🫶🏻

[i hope you like it!!]

you’d absolutely love to believe that what you heard last night wasn’t what happened but as your mind goes over the previous night as you fought yourself to stay awake during your fathers little class your brain couldn’t forget the continuous moans and little yells that you heard from a few rooms across from your own at the mansion for a good hour or two last night. you can’t help but figure out that logan most certainly found jean and just thinking about it made you feel sick. scott being the main thing on your brain after you got over the fact logan most definitely fucked jean last night.

she was a cheater. what else could you expect? your thoughts swirling in your brain causing an indescribable amount of heart ache as you kept yourself completely quiet and withdrawn from whatever was going on in this lesson, rogue clearly being able to tell you were off as she glanced at bobby giving him a look you picked up on — him shrugging his shoulders in return as you cursed your sadness for being so obvious.

just the thought of jean and logan staring at eachother hurt you but her touching him, his hands over her skin, her lips on his, his mind only on her in that moment and his gaze locked into hers as she let him take her yet again enraged you to another level it was a struggle not to jump into his mind and find out exactly what happened but you couldn’t, you wouldn’t. your brain fighting with your heart in every way as you felt sick with all those pictures of the scenario you were forming for yourself.

so from that knowledge as you sat in class you knew you needed to stop liking him for good. he didn’t like you, he was throwing it in your face. you heard it all and it hurt you too much to bare. you didn’t even wanna look at him — that single thought of contact sending you crazy. you couldn’t even bring yourself to see him today. you didn’t want too, you couldn’t. seeing jean as you passed through the kitchen earlier was enough to make you nearly cry and immediately stop that tiny breakfast you had made.

you really couldn’t deal with this. one bit. you never did well with emotional pain — physical was something you could endure, yet emotional was always something you couldn’t stomach ever since you were a little girl.

+ੈ✩‧₊˚

you'd been avoiding him like the plague. literally. whenever you saw him at the end of the halls you'd turn the other away, force a little smile and act like you had somewhere to go if you were in conversation and it had been like that for two weeks. two weeks had passed since one of your normal conversations, the friendly chats you admired in your brain and made out to be more, the little touches he'd give you that you couldn't comprehend was only a friend thing to do, the way he'd hug you.. the deep conversations, the way he'd sometimes kiss your forehead before you left for bed, watching the rain together and just joking together all something you had put in the past. that had been gone for two weeks and to say it was breaking you would be an understatement.

you could tell others has noticed the practical borderline dissociation within you since you had been a little mute recently not that it was specially due to logan (it completely all was) but you didn't want it to be obvious, you hated that it could be perceived that way so you knew you had to do something about it. who knew heartache for one that didn't love you back could destroy you this badly from the inside out?

.. and today was no different on the logan front. you saw him once today in the halls ushering something to hank — the two in bustling conversation and you made sure not to risk it by going to class, to upset over it all to deal with another short horrible conversation where you were nothing but cold to him as you tried to cut down any romantic feelings you had for him. every time you spoke now you could see the confusion and frustration in his eyes, the mental image to much to bare as you went on hiding in your room and pondering and that’s where you had been since — buried in clothing choices as you tried to stomach down the anxiety that had been growing in you over the fact it was jeans birthday party today and you would have to make an appearance after you had been a hermit since you’d got your heart broken by a guy that didn’t even know. rogue and bobby being the only two people you had really spoke too since the shut down yet their concern had been growing annoying as rogue clearly told bobby about the little crush she could’ve guessed, and got out of you when the two of you were high together a few months ago, you had on logan. bobby actually giving you little options of guys you could date to get over someone which was all you needed to hear when you realised rogue had told him as he literally mentioned hank who they knew you recently hiked with since he had been bothering you over your melancholy, yet you had left before it was a full fledge little argument.

just the thought of having to socialise with him and the others and step out of the hole you’d built for yourself to hide in irritated you especially for jean of all people’s party, your ‘smidge’ of hatred for the woman who had really been rude to you since she’d known you not because of logan, because god on that front she wins and it feels like she’s married to him despite her ties to scott, but on the power front. she knew you had powers incomparable to hers that you hardly even showcased magneto being someone who taught you many things when you were younger, your own parents being raven and charles. of course you had powers which were indescribable.

and most of the time you wanted to use it on that bitch. you were lucky she couldn’t get into your twisted mind to find that fact out.

you let out a little sigh as you decided on the black mini skirt and sweater — you finally having an excuse for the fall outfit and lack of dress because it was october which has always been your favourite season and best time of year yet this year that didn’t apply because you haven’t been hardly able to enjoy it because of isolation you’d forced yourself into.

y/n had to swallow her own self pity down as she leaned over to her perfume bottle on the drawer next to her mirror as she took in the image of her body in the skirt. her shrinking body, a scoff leaving her lips as she wasn’t happy with what she saw in the reflection. she never could be. the aroma of the perfume not masking her feelings at all as she put on some dc martens paired with black tights. the perfect little outfit yet she was sure jean would be outshining her on that front. god she didn’t even wanna imagine logan’s eyes being locked onto jean tonight, the heart ache already unbearable to comprehend as she swallowed a lump that formed in her throat. that aching feeling hadn’t gone away since the start of knowing logan the way she did, maybe that was a sign from the people above about how destined it was.. or how not it was.

these muddled thoughts led her too some early drinking as if she wouldn’t be getting shitfaced later. pregaming alone which is a bit self pity full as she swallowed the burning liquor down her throat, the whiskey hitting her softly and slowly enough to give her the confidence to leave her room twenty minutes later for this party.

+ੈ✩‧₊˚

the decorations were perfect, the present corner was overflowing and the students and people were everywhere. jean being clearly the popular girl from the looks of this party, as if y/n already didn’t know that, as the blasting music just made her more aware of the scenario she was in as she fought the urge to look around the room for logan as she went straight over to the bar that had been made. the party was the perfect one a girl, woman, could ask for and y/n could feel the jealously bubbling already that she bit down as she forced a friendly smile to join her lips.

walking through the dancing groups of people, there hardly even being any spaces to walk unless you wanted to bump into a coked up or insanely drunk teenager or wade. who she was lucky to get past without having to talk to yet, no matter how much she did like and enjoy his company she couldn’t deal with his jokes right now which she could guess who’d they’d be centered around, she knew he knew to some extent she was just lucky he hadn’t out rightly said it. that would be too much pity for her to deal with, that coming from wade being another level of pathetic.

the second she leant against the bar she managed to grab the busy barmaids attention giving her a soft nod and polite smile as she didn’t notice the figure beside her as she asked for a coke and vodka.

“thank god you’re showing your face — i thought i was going to have to clone you to get a good conversation.” hank rolled out his tipsiness showing as he pulled y/n into a tight hug when he was sat down on the stool. y/n letting out a low chuckle as she hugged him back nicely, his presence being a little surprise she tried not to seem so bothered about.

“hiya hank.” y/n said softly as the barmaid came over with her drink, placing it next to her. “thanks.” y/n nodded out as hank placed his hand on the stool next to him as she immediately grabbed it and took a swig.

“come! sit.” he ushered in with a drunken smile on his face, a bright one as usual, as he patted the bar stool next to him inviting her to sit and before y/n could even speak up in reply as she slid down on the stool hank bit in.

“where the hell have you been?” he abruptly said bluntly, putting a little look on his face off one that’s pissed off as y/n felt the guilt rush through her as she wrapped her fingers around the glass drowning her truth in the drink as she took a big sip off the liquor acting as if that didn’t taste appalling as she shrugged her shoulders at hanks obvious question which has an obvious answer to that she’d play off as a stupid claim if questioned about it.

“—i’ve been busy! controlling powers— small missions, and that.” y/n lied out.

hank furrowed his eyebrows at his words, giving her a knowing look before he shook his head swiftly at what she said. seeing right through her little lie he truly knew nothing much about what the truth was or not as he took a little sip of his beer.

“i know you but i’m not pushing it— rather you bite of logan’s heads rather then mine.” hank said out lowly as y/n’s eyebrows furrowed at his comment as a look of confusion spread over her face at the mention of him but before she could question hank on it she was met with two hands around her waist, pulling her tightly back purposely.

“hello pretty little liars, you’re aria?” wade said loudly into her ear his drunkenness obvious as y/n scoffed, him clearly stating that because her outfit choice as he squeezed her even tighter y/n’s eyes rolling as she elbowed him playfully back as his hands on her faltered as he playfully shoved her back.

“—elsa! you made it snow yet?” y/n said back to him as she was met with the sound of his laughter as he pulled on the stool next to y/n, making the guy who was sat on it mutter a curse before wade sent him a glare and then went speed walking away clearly a boy as young as fourteen or thirteen who just got the shit scared out him for, wade’s harsh look as he sqt down on the stool as he met y/n’s gaze.

“you know i have honey.” he nodded out with a smirk as hank leaned into the twos space.

“shots anyone?” hank rolled out, fixing his glasses as wade enthusiastically said a quick yes, y/n adding to the fire. “—very much needed.” y/n drove out as wade sent her a little look of knowing yet he held back the urge to call her out on it. he was being a ‘good’ friend in his eyes anyway, he didn’t wanna hear her say things about logan when he knew a few things himself on how the other party felt.

hank calling the barmaid over as wade pulled y/n’s stool closer to his that knowing look still present on his face as he played with the knowledge he had a bit just in a little playful way.

“you seen the birthday girl yet?..gave her a gift?” wade said sarcastically knowing the two didn’t really see eye to eye on a LOT of things as y/n gave him a little glare, him having been present for many of their little disagreements.

“luckily i haven’t, as i’ve brung nothing.” y/n rumbled back as wade nudged her playfully with her words as hank grabbed the tray of shots from the barmaid— y/n’s eyes widening once she saw how many shots he had ordered. “fifteen?” y/n broke out with a raised eyebrow as hank chuckled as he took one, downing it straight away before grabbing another as wade spoke up cockily.

“who’s pants are you trying to get into?” wade rolled out, his voice sly as he grabbed two for himself as y/n leaned over and took one ready to get shitfaced, maybe that’d stop her mind from falling back onto logan every other second her longing heart internally hating this situation more and more as she yearned to see him but she bit back the urge to even look around for him. halting that urge by taking a shot.

“preferably anyone with a pulse and no dick between their legs.” hank said right as y/n took another shot, her nearly choking on the burning liquid which was a horrible mix of vodka and god knows what.

“i can tuck.” wade said lowly as this made it worse, y/n nudging wade, shaking her head as she held back her laugh as she swallowed the shot she just took. “disgusting!” she rolled out as she took another, downing it before placing the shot down on the table.

“ah! sweeties jealous.” wade spoke up sarcastically with that all familiar cocky smile on his face with that teasing glint in his eyes as he handed another shot y/n’s way as she took it gracefully as they all cheersed their glasses together. that being just one of the about eight times they did that within the next thirty to sixty minutes as y/n bit back her thoughts with copious amounts of shots and soon enough they had gone through a good four or so tray off shots and a few drinks each.

every passing minute y/n felt her mind get closer and closer to the edge as every time she felt that aching feeling grow she’d swallow it back with another sip of liquor or large shot — wades jokes passing the time and hanks yapping and her own occasional drunken chime in making her mind a mess as hank got another row of shots.

the songs and wade and hank’s voices becoming a blur in y/n’s mind as she swallowed nothing but the truth with those shots. every sip feeling like more heartache she couldn’t stop having.

+ੈ✩‧₊˚

y/n was practically stuck too the bar stool, her eyes scanning the crowd occasionally (by occasionally around five times if not more a minute) as she looked for him. her mind lingering on a certain someone as it always tended to do the liquor just amplifying those feelings as hank spoke up.

“you know— you look like your mum.”

his words caused y/n’s attention to snap over to hank as she raised an eyebrow, wade making a little ‘oo’ in the background even if he couldn’t help but agree with his comment as he sipped on the cocktail he had ordered a few drinks previously that had just been laying there on the side. the bartender making a fuck ton of profit from these three miserables.

“very dead?” y/n said sarcastically as hank gave her a little look — clearly a little annoyed she didn’t take the comment seriously as he leaned a little closer to her.

“beautiful you idiot.” hank added out, his words making her eyebrows furrow a bit as she took in his drunken words as she gave him a little a smile — swallowing the depreciating joke she was close to making as she took a sip of her drink.

“thank you hank.” y/n nodded out calmly as wade butted in.

“—fucking hell, incoming for angry jacob twilight wannabe.” wade cursed out as y/n’s gaze moved over wade following his eyes to where he was looking, her heart feeling as if it was flipping and twisting in her chest as she watched logan walk into the bar games room as she furrowed her eyebrows at the sight of jean following him angrily. her looking perfect as ever.

yet before y/n could think another thought she locked eyes with logan from across the room — their eyes meeting as she felt a weight lift immediately onto her as she swallowed a lump that formed in her throat at just the sight of him. it felt as if time has frozen just as they looked to each other , his eyes taking everything about her in as she did the same his way.

he practically immediately walked over, more like stomped over, as he seemed clearly agitated. more then usual as his eyes dawned onto wade and hank before resting back to y/n as he stopped in his tracks in front of the seated three.

“who thought getting a teenager shitfaced was a good idea?” logan nearly growled out, giving wade a glare as y/n’s eyes lingered back on jean who saw who he was talking to and turned away her being even more pissed then him, y/n holding the urge to go into her mind and find out why as she brung her gaze onto logan after seeing jean walk off somewhere else in the room, her patience clearly wearing thin. her wanting to make a little childish comment about how she wasn’t when wade spoke up.

“gods probably.” wade rolled out in reply as logan scoffed at what he said.

“y/n.” logan said, her eyes meeting his own as she took in his appearance. her eyes lingering on the chain that was wrapped around his neck — one he told her was something jean gave him when he first became an xmen, something he hasn’t worn in months, this fact only making her feel a number of horrible thoughts as she grabbed her drink and took a mean swig. swallowing her own building self pity as she forced a fake smile logan immediately knew to be fake.

“hi.” she said swiftly after she put her drink back down on the table — his eyebrow raising a little at her hostility as he looked to wade, hank the back to her.

“uh—“ logan spoke up, trying to find the words to say as he looked at her a bit lost for words at how she was acting as he swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat — feeling his frustration rise as he tried to control it, “where have you been?” he said lowly, hank raising his eyebrow at how this little conversation seemed weirdly tension filled. wade knew why, he could’ve called her little feelings for him back when she first met the guy but now he couldn’t help see how serious it was because off the way she was looking at him and how it was affecting her.

he couldn’t even brung himself to but in as he buried himself in his drink. hank doing the same.

“i’ve been busy. but i’ve been around— i saw you two days ago.” she said quickly, shifting in her seat a little as his eyes almost felt as if they burnt through her.

“you didn’t stay,” he said taking a pause as he looked at her, taking in just how intoxicated she seemed as he tried to analyse it, “like you uh- normally, do.”

his words touched a nerve on y/n as she felt that all familiar heart ache grow y/n trying to act as if the feeling inside her wasn’t killing her right now and ripping her to shreds as she kept her gaze on him, his eyes on her making her think and feel a number of things she hated.

“—had somewhere to be.” she replied quickly, his eyebrows raising at her bluntness to her reply as he knew something was off. he sensed it, the drunkness only adding to his worry as he went to step closer when he was cut off by a voice behind him.

y/n eyes dawned on the sight off jean, a tight silver dress on showcasing her curves as her red hair flowed down by her side as she looked at logan who hadn’t even brung himself to met her gaze yet. y/n immediately being hit with a truck load of insecurities just with a glance to the older women who had the only guy she’d ever loved wrapped around her finger.

y/n’s heart feeling as if it was stepped on as she kept her gaze on him — time feeling a little slow motion.

“logan—now.” jean said harshly.

“lo- logan.” she said again, y/n not leaving logan’s gaze as he swallowed his own spit as he eventually brung his gaze over to jean.

“logan— he knows.” she said harshly, her words a little quiet as they were clearly just meant for logan’s ears yet y/n heard them. “now! come on?” she questioned out frustratedly, saying that to grip his attention as logan looked to jean then back to y/n, wade and hank watching like it was a drama.

the air felt thick with some sort of something as y/n swallows, her eyes on him as he bit down on the inside of his cheek.

“be careful kid, remember to slow down.” he rolled out before he turned away with jean going right to her side as y/n scoffed as he walked off turning her attention back to the barmaid — not feeling logan’s eyes burning back to her as he took a long glance her way before disappearing off with jean into the party to sort whatever was happening.

y/n rolled her eyes the second she turned her attention back over to the bar as she looked down at the bar table, swallowing her thoughts down with the rest of her vodka as she felt the others eyes on her. they sensed on the tension — it was impossible not too.

“so they’re fucking again.” hank commented lowly and cluelessly. his words being like a gut punch to y/n as she bit down on her tongue as she called back over the barmaid, leaning over and ordering a couple shots as she sat back down in her seat.

“mm, most definitely.. hell for scott.” wade ushered out lowly, feeling a sense of guilt as he saw the way y/n’s eyes fell as y/n tried to mute out their conversation in the background as she welcomed the shots with open arms as she pulled the tray closer to her as she heard wade and hank whisper behind her as they leant over to gossip about the rumours of jean and scott being over as y/n’s heart felt as if it was plummeting and beating as fast as it ever had with every shot she took. the information she was hearing just making her internal pain grow worse as she tried to drink it away every shot seemingly enhancing her hurt as the metal images she were getting hurt her brain as she felt the urge to do something about it.

her mind full of relentless unlimited thoughts that were screaming at her as she placed the last empty shot glass she had down — the shots helping limit the voices to some extent as the barmaid came over and refilled them without another word most likely sensing her anguish as y/n nodded to her with as much of a smile she could muster up as she thought back to the conversation with logan.

“we’re going to dance— you coming?” wade spoke to y/n as that brung her out her gaze with the bottom of the shot glass as she shook her head, “no—thanks,” she slurred out as hank gave her a small nod and pat on the shoulder before they disappeared of into the crowd leaving her alone after saying their be right backs— her lips immediately around another glass as she finished the rest of the drinks thay were laid out in front-of her.

y/n either needed fresh air and a sick bucket or the man she loved and craved, and she was going with the latter. her desires only heightened which was making just about everything worse due to the mess the alcohol had started to cause her brain and body.

her heart pounding as she stood up, everything going messy and spin like as she stumbled through the crowd. her mind on one thing and one thing only, one person, as she got pushed around a bit by the dancing people as she made her way out the bar room she was in. her eyes searching the place as she looked for him in every corner, in every face, every person, every laugh, every grunt and every noise. she was searching for him like she had been doing within her heart ever since she’d know the man.

yet what she didn’t expect to see when she turned the corner was him right there. logan right there in his bubble of perfection as she saw it. her eyes taking him in as she saw him in the hallway — a smile joining her lips as she started to walk over to him planning what she was going to say in her brain. how she was going to do any of this? she didn’t even know what she had planned, she just wanted to speak to him. she needed to see his smile. she missed it. she wanted to make him laugh like usual, she wanted to kiss him, feel his touch. she needed it, it was destroying her to not have him. why was she ignoring him for the past two weeks? she should just tell him. nothing bad could hap—

“mine.” she swore she could make out logan saying, her eyebrows furrowing in pure confusion as she took one little step closer to where he was as her eyes dawned on a certain red head with a killer smirk on her lips as she had a tight grip on his chain.

and with that every thought she just had was crushed within the space of five or so seconds as she heard jean’s light hearted chuckle next, her voice grating against y/n’s mind as she swallowed her own spit back down as she made sure she couldn’t be seen by them. feeling the sick feeling rising in her as she watched logan’s hands wrap around jean’s waist as she pulled him closer to her in a teasing action that broke y/n’s heart in two.

she was frozen in her tracks, watching as the one she loved was with the one he loved.

“you’re mine.” ringing in her ears as she just made out what he had said to jean as his words sent a chill through y/n’s body as she felt the tears start to boil in her eyes as she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the scene. her mouth fallen gap as she watched as he roughly had her against the door jean’s hand going down to the handle of said door as y/n watched as jean pulled him in the room with her roughly.

the door slamming behind them as she felt her beating out her chest, her breath shaky and hitched as she swallowed.

and when she heard a little squeal come from the room over the music a few seconds or minutes later, she couldn’t tell how long had passed, that’s when she knew she needed to go before she turned into a public laughing stock as she turned on her heel — shakily making her way through the crowd again, unbeknownst to the tears dropping down her cheeks as she fought her way through the dancing crowd as she tried to get the hell out of here as she thought she was fighting back her emotions, yet she really wasn’t doing too good of a job with it.

“watch it!” someone yelled out over the music to y/n as she shuffled past them quickly, stumbling out and disappearing through the back door as she made her break for it. her heart feeling broken to an extreme it hadn’t felt before which was only amplified by the alcohol as she felt her brain chemistry formed for logan be destroyed within a matter of moments. seeing it in front of her own eyes being completely different from assuming it had happened.

the fact they were doing that right now she just couldn’t and didn’t want too comprehend it. it hurting her so much she felt as if she was going to be sick, she could feel it to the extremist point that when she managed her way to the end of the courtyard where her little spot was with her childhood swing set, where she’s surprised she even remembered the whereabouts off in this state, she couldn’t stop herself from leaning down into a bush shakily.

her mouth watering, her throat burning with liquid as y/n threw up into the bush her heart pounding ridiculously as she felt the tears burning against her cheek as she didn’t even notice the feeling off two strong hands holding her hair back. her body shaking as she kept being sick, feeling the acid burn her throat as she felt a strong hand round her hair pulling it into a ponytail and another hand around her fragile body to keep her up.

her body flinching a little at the touch as the person leaned a little closer as y/n was sick some more, “it’s okay—“ a low voice ushered out as y/n couldn’t help be sick again, leaning down closer into the bush nearly tripping into it as the person held her upright. their hand snacking onto her waist as y/n leaned back into their touch. basically tripping into it as she let out a shaky breath as she wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her top.

her eyes moving up onto an all familiar face and she instantly cursed in her brain as he managed to move her over to the swings, sitting her down in one of two seats as she clung to the chain of it leaning her body against it freely as she let out a little cry.

“you’re good.” scott said softly his voice low as he spoke into a comforting tone that didn’t completely soothe her as she felt the tears trail down her cheek as he kneeled down — his hands stabilising the swing that was rocking a little as he looked up at her making sure she was okay on the swing. the cold air hitting the twos faces as the moon shone down on the courtyard, the faint sound of pop music from the mansion being completely distant to both of them.

“scott.” she managed to say, him being able to tell how far gone she was by the way she slurred her words as if her crying and throwing up didn’t prove that enough. his eyes on her as he moved her hair out the way for her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as she held back a little sob which wasn’t held back that well as she let out a shaky whimper.

“w-why— doesn-t he love me?” she spoke out quickly, her breath shaky and her voice high pitched as she let out little sniffles in between words, the weight of those making a sad smile tug on scott’s lips as he kept his hand on her face trying to keep her upright which was sort of impossible as he kept his comforting warm hand against her face. just trying to make her feel okay.

“—he—“ scott cut himself off before he moved closer to her, trying to keep her calm, “he does love you okay?”

y/n shook her head at scott’s words as she let out a muffled sob against her wrist, shaking her head as scott wiped the tears from her cheeks. “not like i want him to.” she rolled out in a slur, scott feeling his heart beat quicken at her little admission as if he didn’t know how she felt over him before as he moved his finger across her cheek in a soft circular motion, his hand cupping her jaw.

“hey- he does okay?” scott said quickly as he moved her jaw down so she met his eyes again, his tone soft as he moved himself to the other swing next to her — the second he was sat him moving his swing closer to her own. tangling the chains of his swing up a little in doing so.

“he does.” scott added out again, y/n not believing him at all as she swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat as she leaned herself again the hand that was cupping her face as she nearly tumbled off the swing.

her biting down on her tongue as she let out a little squeal as scott placed his hand on her back supporting and holding her up as a little chuckle left her lips as she leaned forward a little. scott not letting his hand move as worry was evident on his face as y/n turned to him a sad smile on her lips, tears still evident on her face.

“i wish.” he heard her whisper as he swallowed, his own voice breaking a little, “come on. okay? he doesn’t know what he’s missing right now.— he doesnt see you liking him.” scott said softly, giving her a little playful nudge as y/n started to lose the energy to even speak off it as she felt another tear slip down her cheek.

his words were taking the weight off her shoulders as she moved in the swing a little, scott’s comforting hand on her back which was now sort off around her waist making her sure she wasn’t going to fall as she moved a tiny bit closer to him on her swing. their swings touching a little.

“you deserve better then jean-y bitch.” she managed out lowly, scott not being able to help the chuckle that escaped his lips at how she put it as he looked out at the mansion in front of them. the moon present in his red tinted glasses.

“yeah— i’m starting to realise that.” he chuckled out as y/n gave him a drunken smile in return as she locked eyes with scott. someone she’d hardly noticed was this nice mostly due to the words logan remarked about him all the time as her smile couldn’t help but grow as she looked at him. the air softening between the two as y/n felt tiredness fall over her as she leant against the chains a little as she slowly moved her gaze over to the moon.

a few moments of silence passes before scott spoke up.

“y/n?” scott managed out trying to grab her attention as he saw he eyes wondering a bit. his eyebrows furrowing when he heard no answer in return, her silence scaring him as he nudged her.

“y/n?” he quickly said out once again, nudging her a little as he saw how limp her body was and noticed her closed eyes.

“fuck— y/n.” he ushered out quickly as he stood from his seat and went right to her side as he kneeled down, tapping her face to try and catch her attention. y/n stirring a little at his action as he stood up, pulling her up with him as he placed his hand around her waist as he tried to shake her a little which did the job as her eyes fluttered open to meet his own.

a drunken smile joining on her lips as a tear dropped down her cheek that she didn’t even notice as she chuckled a little, leaning close to him as she swayed a little.

“scott.” she said lowly as scott gave her a low chucke as she placed her arm around him drunk on, him wiping the tear of her cheek softly something he’d done a number of times since being in her presence tonight.

“okay it’s time to go sleep— im taking you to bed.” he explained softly as y/n looked at him with a little furrowed brow as he started to walk, helping her walk alongside him her hardly even able to realise she was walking as she leaned against his touch.

“you’re good.” he said calmly to her as they walked through the dark courtyard, the illuminated by the moon field of grass between them and the bustling school /xmansion being the only light to guide them. his grip on her tightening softly when she nearly tripped over her own feet, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he realised just how long of a walk it was to the mansion. him sighing as he held her upright. “nearly there.” he muffled out as y/n leaned to him.

“—‘m gonna be sick.” she quickly flushed out before throwing her head over in the other direction as scott patted her back and stopped in his tracks at her words as she was sick again — him holding the urge got to be sick too because the smell as he focused on helping her. his heart skipping a beat bit as he felt his anger growing over logan putting her in this situation where she was so drunk she was being sick or the fact that she was being sick just thinking about logan it made his blood boil as he felt his jaw clench — his eyebrows twitching as he helped her get it all out, whispering little comforts as he soothed her back.

“good girl. “ he said lowly as y/n brung her gaze into him once more him giving her a small sad smile as he placed his hand back around her waist to guide her, “cmon, bed.” he whispered out to her as they started walking again. having to go through the party definitely going to be a difficult task as scott tightened his grip around her waist as they walked past a couple people hanging around the outside area of the building as the music met y/n’s ears as once they got into the building scott called for people to move out the way as he made y/n stay close to him. her eyes wondering over everyone in her drunken haze as scott helped her over to the staircase which was through a couple wide, filled rooms.

her swearing she came across wade and hank in the corner with two twins and colossus’s doing a certain something to wade, her eyebrows furrowing at what she believed to have just seen as she shook it off as she met scott’s words.

“you need to be carried or are you okay?” scott asked as if he was babying her which sent a wave of comfort through her body as she let the question hang in her brain as she tried to form answer to it as she leaned herself against scott.

“‘u—‘i can—“

“scarlett?” logan roughly called out in a raised voice towards scott as he came over out of nowhere. scott rolling his eyes as he quickly picked y/n up, y/n being in scott’s arms as her eyes fluttered open to see logan to the side of them. scott’s jaw immediately clenching as he continued up the stairs without cracking a word to logan as he rushed after the pair. his own anger frustratingly high as he tried to control himself and stop himself from doing anything stupid.

“scott?” logan said harshly, his anger growing as he didn’t get an answer as he tried to get the man to look at him.

“lo-“ y/n slipped out, her voice muffled as she leaned into scott’s arms more as he carried her bridal style up the stairs. her realising his presence, logan’s eyes casting onto y/n and then back to scott. his eyes darkening.

“what have you done to her?!” logan rushed out, his voice cracking with worry as scott ignored his words as he made it to the top of the stairs and continued on down to where he’s pretty sure her room is.

“scott!” logan shouted again trying to get his attention as scott opened the door with his back, giving logan a harsh glare as he walked right over to the bed where he placed y/n down carefully on it. her drunken self pouring the cover over her figure as she rolled over in bed. letting out a little muffled whimper as her head laid on the pillow.

the second scott having let go off y/n he immediately turned to logan scott not giving logan another chance to talk before he connected his fist with his jaw, logan been taken aback a little as he raised an eyebrow, scott looking right at him as logan pushed him back harshly.

“what the fuck did you do?” logan cursed out quickly, scott scoffing as he held back taking his glasses off because of the fact it was a party, not logan’s funeral even despite how much he wanted it to be.

“you should ask yourself that, prick.” scott said harshly. logan’s eyebrows raising at his words as scott pushed himself past logan without another word.

logan immediately grabbing scott’s arm harshly, his claws aching to come out as he met his gaze.

“what do you mean by that?” logan said quickly, his eyes locked onto scott’s as so many questions flowed his brain. his thoughts enlaced with y/n and the worry he had for the girl as scott harshly brung his hand back to his side after shaking logan’s grip off — giving logan a stern look as he looked him up and down judgementally, “god, you are so stupid. you’d think being born in the 19th century would make you slightly smarter then a twenty nine year old.” scott scoffed out lowly, his words only angering logan more as he shoved scott against the wall.

his claws extending as he pressed them close to his throat — his threat there as scott swallowed.

“tell me.” he said harshly as scott couldn’t help a certain look cross his face. completely frustrated by logan, his heart aching for jean in this moment as he stared at what she had clearly picked over himself that enraging him yet also y/n and what she had just gone through herself. the heart ache something he could relate too and he wouldn’t wish that on anyone. yet right now he would logan however.

“she saw you and jean you idiot. meaning i did too. meaning— fuck you.” scott said quickly as he clicked his visor getting the right aim, logan jumping back as scott lazered his chest. his beam going right through as a loud grunt escaped his lips as logan in immediate retaliation clawed scott in the side, scott pushing back the whimper threatening to leave his lips as logan as he got ready to take another shot at the man.

logan raising his eyebrow as the two stared eachother down, “i’ll heal,” logan rolled out his words only angering scott worse as he went to raise his glasses again as logan roughly placed his hand on his chest to stop him, his claws retracted back in.

“i wish you wouldn’t.” scott bit out harshly as logan scoffed at his words, keeping his anger limited as he rolled his eyes.

“jean only needed someone to talk too—“

“you mean fuck.” scott said out harshly, jean crossing logan’s mind as his jaw clenched his gaze darkening as he couldn’t bring himself to shake his head. not that he was thinking about scott’s feelings — right now his mind pondering on another.

scott saw how logan couldn’t even fight back with words — tutting as he pushed him back. logan’s hands falling to his side as the two didn’t break eye contact.

“you know we’re engaged.” scott spit out like venom, his words causing a look of surprise to wash over logan’s face as his mouth fell open, “well we were.” he added out.

“you were— what?” logan fumbled out, confusion written on his face as scott rolled his eyes at his reaction. not that he cared deep down, but it felt like he did right now.

“great.. she didn’t tell you. like she didn’t tell anyone,” he said lowly, “not that it makes it any better what you’ve done,” scott casted out as a few seconds finding passed as he tried to find the words which only come out anger filled, “she’s a caniving cheating bitch.” scott cursed out, logan not bringing himself to react to the words scott ushered about jean as he looked at scott.

logan was about to say something to scott when the sound of y/n’s soft little snores filled the room which made the tension even higher as scott and logan glared at eachother.

“maybe just think next time before you fuck someone else’s girl, again.” scott managed out as he pushed past logan to leave the room.

“i don’t think she’s your girl.” logan called back out before he left as scott’s jaw clenched at his words as he opened the door.

“not anymore. you can have her.” he said harshly as he paused as he knew he had to say something.

“—just think about how y/n feels, because i know hurts.” scott spoke lowly as he left without another word clearly implying a certain fact.

logans heart skipped a beat at his words as the door shut behind scott, his mind feeling as if it was in a war as the tension built in the room immediately. the air feeling thick as he swallowed his own spit not bringing himself to call something back to him as his words couldn’t even bring themselves to form right in his brain yet alone out loud.

his eyes dawned back onto the sleeping girl y/n laying there. looking so soft and innocent, completely sound asleep and his heart couldn’t help twang a little as he bit down on the inside of his cheek — many bustling thoughts cursing his brain as he wished he had never thought of them.

his mind lingering on the thought of jean and what just occurred within him and scott as he came down from the pain that was inflicted on him his chest rising rapidly to a more normal flow as he healed. as he focused his gaze on y/n as he furrowed his eyebrows over what scott had said, trying to wrap his brain around it.

logan’s eyes dawning on y/n. guilt seeping through him as he felt his heart gain that aching feeling y/n had been riddled with since the day she first realised she was in love with the man as he sat on the foot of the bed. his mind feeling melted as he placed his hand on her own his big, gruff and rough feeling hand taking the soft touch of her hand into his own grip. her hand being half if not less of his size as he soothed her. her touch being another level of comfort he didn’t recall experiencing since he was a young boy that feeling sending memories flooding through his brain he couldn’t focus on now.

feeling all the emotions boiling up he’d been fighting to push down as he looked down at her asleep body. what was all of this? she had been distant, almost rude and very cold and scott’s words were making that why question he had on his mind for the past two weeks clearer.

the implication of scott’s words hung in his mind as he looked at her. him eventually bringing himself over to the spare place next to her in the bed not wanting to leave her alone for the night too worried about how drunk she was and if anything could happen in the night.. or anyone else drunkily walking in. but he couldn’t help deep down in knowing that those were just excuses to stay within her presence. asleep or not.

carefully building a gap between the two of them as he laid down — no matter how strong the urge to hug her and comfort her was — as he let out a rough exhale as he closed his eyes.

only to open them three seconds later to look at her. his eyes not leaving her peacefully asleep body for the rest of the night.

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littleredwing89 · 1 month ago

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FAMOUS [PART THREE]

Bodyguard!Jason Todd x Singer!Reader

Summary: There was something about the way the dim light softened his features, made his usual tough-guy exterior seem more approachable.

Warnings: None really. Building tension between you & Jason.

A/N: So here is a very-very-VERY long overdue part 3 - Wooo!! 💛💛 if it makes you all feel better - I have completely written this story (40k words approx) so I’ll just post 1 or 2 chapters a week for you. I’m sorry this took so long my loves 😘😘 - sending all my love & please enjoy the next chapter - I really hope it was worth the wait.

Elle xoxo ❤️❤️❤️

———

HARDER THAN NECESSARY

———

***

The apartment was eerily quiet, the soft hum of the city beyond the window the only sound filling the space. You tiptoed across the hardwood floors, your oversized college sweater hanging loosely on your frame, hoping to make it to the door without disturbing the brick wall of a man currently asleep down the hall.

Just as your fingers brushed the doorknob, a loud click echoed through the room.

“Freeze,” Jason’s deep, gravelly voice commanded, his gun trained on you in an instant. His eyes were sharp, scanning you for a threat before recognition dawned on his face.

“Holy shit,” you gasped, raising your hands slowly. “Slow down, cowboy.”

Jason cursed under his breath, quickly holstering the gun. “Shit. Why are you sneaking around your own house?”

“Because!” you snapped, not wanting to admit why you were really sneaking out. The idea of telling him you were trying to repay him for the burger and chips he got you last week was… embarrassing, to say the least. “I am… I just…”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Why are you dressed sketchy?”

“It’s comfy, sue me,” you huffed, tugging at the hem of the oversized sweater.

“Don’t tempt me,” Jason muttered, crossing his arms and planting himself between you and the door like the human wall he was.

“Look, just go back to bed,” you sighed, trying to push past him. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

But Jason didn’t budge. “You’re not going out.”

“Yes, I am,” you shot back, frustration bubbling up. “Alone.”

Jason’s expression darkened, his body language shifting from casual to protective in an instant. “No—I’m going with you. Let me just get a jacket.” He reached for his brown leather jacket draped over the kitchen barstool.

“No!!” you blurted, panic rising in your chest. You hadn’t planned for him to come along. “I’ll be fine! I do this all the time on my own! I really don’t need an escort.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed as he grumbled, “This is why Mr. Sionis hired me. You can’t do this shit alone anymore—it isn’t safe.”

“Roman’s an overprotective idiot,” you muttered, arms crossed over your chest. “He doesn’t know the half of what I do.”

Jason sighed, clearly losing patience. “We either go together, or you don’t go at all.”

You looked down at the floor, knowing you were defeated. All you wanted was to repay Jason’s kindness from before, but now it felt like the universe was against you. Keeping your emotions in check, you let out a long breath. “I’m not used to this…” you muttered.

Jason softened just a little, sensing your frustration. “Let me go with you. I’ll pay. If we pretend it’s a date, people are less likely to even recognise you.”

Your face flushed pink at his suggestion. “What?!”

Jason fumbled, his own face heating up. “Just—just pretend! Look, I’m here to stay, okay? Mr. Sionis wants you safe, so we should probably get to know each other better. I mean, I am living in your box room down the hall.”

You shot him a look. “It’s not a box room—I gave you a room with a nice view of Gotham.”

Jason smirked, clearly amused. “You’re deflecting.”

With a dramatic sigh, you threw your hands up. “Fine. But I’m driving.”

Jason tossed you his keys, surprising you. “Don’t scratch it. I just got it fixed up.”

You smirked, twirling the keys in your hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt your baby.”

Jason’s face flushed slightly as he looked away. “You better not, or you’ll be paying for her next paint job.”

You grinned mischievously. “Her? Does she have a name, tough guy?”.

Jason ignored your teasing, shrugging on his jacket. “Come on—I thought you were hungry.”

Stifling a laugh, you headed out the door, calling back over your shoulder, “Yes, sir.”

Jason bit back the smile threatening to spread across his face, trying to ignore the way that “sir” made his stomach twist in a way it definitely shouldn’t.

——

The diner was quiet, the low hum of neon lights flickering above as you and Jason sat across from each other in one of the old booths. When the food arrived, Jason reached for his wallet, but before he could pull it out, you quickly slipped your card over the machine with a smug smile.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Jason grumbled, clearly caught off guard.

“I know,” you replied, giving him a teasing smile. “But it’s nice to repay the favor, y’know?”

Jason gave you a rare, small smile. “Thanks.”

You nodded, a little flutter of satisfaction warming your chest. “However, if I’d known that, I would’ve ordered more,” Jason teased, leaning back in his seat.

You rolled your eyes, playfully scoffing. “Jerk.”

“Eh, sue me.”

You tried to focus on your food, but your eyes kept drifting back to Jason as he casually leaned back in his leather jacket, looking more relaxed than you’d ever seen him. There was something about the way the dim light softened his features, made his usual tough-guy exterior seem more approachable.

Jason noticed you staring and raised an eyebrow. “What? Is there something on my face?” He wiped at his chin, checking for stray ketchup.

Flushing red, you shook your head quickly. “No! No… sorry, I just zoned out. I was thinking about a new song I’m working on.”

Jason smiled, the edges of his lips tugging upward. “Yeah, I heard some of it last night. Or, well, early this morning.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh shit, sorry—I didn’t realise the noise carried that far down the hall.”

Jason shrugged, his smile still lingering. “It’s not a complaint. It sounded great.”

You were about to say something in return, something sweet and appreciative, but Jason—being Jason—slurped his drink loudly through the straw, completely killing the mood. You furrowed your brow, muttering, “Mood kill.”

Jason looked at you, confused. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said with a sigh, glancing at the clock. “We should probably head back.”

——

The drive back to the apartment was quieter than usual, but not uncomfortable. Jason had his elbow resting on the car door, his other hand draped casually on his thigh, looking out at the city lights. You glanced at him every now and then, trying to shake the lingering thoughts of how natural it felt having him beside you.

As you stopped at a red light, you couldn’t help but ask, “So, you really heard me working on the song last night?”

Jason nodded, glancing over at you. “Yeah. You’re good. Like… really good. You’re not just some pretty face in a band.”

You felt your face heat up. “Thanks, but you don’t have to say that just because you’re protecting me.”

“I’m not,” he said, his tone more serious than you expected. “I mean it. You’ve got talent. Don’t let Roman’s overprotectiveness make you forget that.”

The compliment caught you off guard. Jason wasn’t the type to throw praise around carelessly, and hearing it from him made it feel different. More genuine. You smiled, turning back to the road as the light turned green. “That means a lot coming from you.”

Jason shifted slightly, as if uncomfortable with the sentimentality. “Yeah, well… don’t get used to it. I’ve got a tough reputation to keep.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the sound filling the car. “Sure, big guy. I’ll keep your secret.”

The rest of the drive passed quickly, and soon enough, you were pulling into the underground parking lot of your building. You killed the engine and sat there for a moment, neither of you moving to get out.

Jason was the first to break the silence, clearing his throat. “You really didn’t need to sneak out earlier, y’know. I get that you like your independence, but… I’m here to help. You don’t have to do everything on your own.”

Your hand hesitated on the car door handle, his words sinking in. He wasn’t just talking about tonight. He was talking about more than that—about your habit of handling things solo, even when it wasn’t safe. You bit your lip, looking down at your hands. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the help… It’s just hard to adjust to having someone around all the time. I’m used to taking care of myself.”

Jason watched you carefully, his voice softer than before. “I get it. But you don’t have to anymore. Not with me.”

You glanced over at him, meeting his steady gaze. The sincerity in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. It was as if he wasn’t just saying it because it was his job—he meant it, and that scared you a little.

“Thanks, Jason,” you said quietly, feeling the weight of his words.

He gave a small nod, reaching for the door handle. “Come on, let’s get inside before Roman tracks us down.”

As you both stepped out of the car and made your way toward the elevator, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you. It wasn’t just the professional relationship anymore. It was different…in a good way.

When you reached your apartment, you turned to face Jason before unlocking the door. “Hey,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thanks for tonight… and for everything.”

Jason gave you a half-smile, his eyes softening just slightly. “Anytime, princess.”

***

#jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #red hood smut #red hood fanfiction #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader series #jason todd fluff #jason todd reader smut #red hood x reader series #bodyguard!jason todd x reader #bodyguard!jason todd x singer!reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader insert #red hood x reader smut #red hood x you

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gurugirl · 11 months ago

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Can We Start Over? | Ch. 2 The Job Offer

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

A/N: This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 2. Summary: You can't stop thinking about what happened the night you met Harry and how much you hate him. But then you get some really good news about a new job. Except there's a catch.

Word Count: 9k

Warning: 18+ only, angst, alcohol consumption

Can We Start Over? masterlist

“Oh my god, Y/n. What a fucking dick. But your response was gold! I wish you’d stayed to see what happened. Holy shit!” Brandy laughed as she clinked her glass with yours, “That was some gangster shit right there!”

You both laughed at your recount of what had happened with Harry. You met your best friend Brandy for Sunday brunch at your usual spot. You had called her on Saturday after your exit paperwork was taken care of with Mr. Spector and said you had some very interesting news to tell her but that you wanted to share it in person. This wasn’t over-the-phone kind of gossip. It was a with-a-martini-in-hand face-to-face kind of gossip.

“And besides… the most important thing is at least you got off. Typical fuck-boy, good in bed but an absolute slut.”

You nodded, “Exactly. And it doesn’t bother me too much, really. Not now. Plus Mr. Spector gave me a really nice parting bonus. And I’m sure I’ll be matched with someone soon for another gig but even if it takes a few months, I won’t have to dig into savings thanks to him.”

And it was true. Mr. Spector presented you with the check and a hug and well wishes and you were nearly in tears by the time you left his estate. The movers were there the whole time, taking furniture out of his lovely home. A home you’d gotten to become very familiar with over the years. You held events and small parties there, you helped him redecorate the master suite and all the bathrooms (well you organized it all and helped the decorators and builders with the design and material selection). You even had your own room there. Not that you often needed to stay but that was part of your job description as a personal assistant. Sometimes you needed to stay. But usually, you’d go home at night.

The service that you worked for assured you there were a few clients in need of a personal assistant and if it was a good match, they’d refer you. That was important. To have the right match. You were lucky you were single and without kids. That meant you were more flexible. But that didn’t guarantee a good match.

You were sure you’d be enjoying a couple of weeks off work off to do nothing. It sounded fantastic.

. . .

You hadn’t expected to get an offer so soon. When Monica emailed you on Monday afternoon with the file and details of your new assignment (if you accepted) you perused the document with your mouth agape. You’d been matched with someone with what was known as stealth wealth (most were), who traveled frequently. You’d need to keep a bedroom in their home (not out of the norm) and travel with them from country to country. You would negotiate holidays and time off once meeting in person but the salary offered was the first thing you saw when you looked at the contract. There was no pressure to sign but how could you say no to an offer that would erase your college debt and allow you to buy a home in a year? You couldn’t let this one slip away.

You emailed Monica back right away that you’d accept it and like to move forward. The next step would be to meet in person. Then, you’d find out more about who you’d be working for. The service was very discreet. The client was always given absolute anonymity until it was time for the first meeting.

You stared at your computer screen as if to will Monica to respond faster. Sipping your coffee you tapped your foot against the floor in anticipation. You kind of would have enjoyed some time off. A week or two of downtime. Sleeping in. Catching up on all the movies and shows you hadn’t had time to watch on Netflix. Order in pizza and Chinese, and day drink in your pajamas. But this opportunity wouldn’t be on the table for much longer. Another person would snatch this up in a heartbeat. That dollar sign alone would see to it.

When Monica finally responded you placed your mug of coffee down, held your breath, and clicked the email.

You’ll be meeting with the client tomorrow at 8:00 am at an address that will be sent to you via our private messaging app at 5:00 am. He requests you bring a physical copy of your resume and if you both agree to terms tomorrow he’ll bump up your salary 10% automatically. Confirm this is okay and I’ll set up the rest. Monica

You squealed as you quickly typed back a resounding Yes! Book it! Thank you!

You stood up and paced. Okay. So you learned the client was a he. Well, you’d blow him away. You’d make him want to hire you on the spot with that lovely little 10% bump.

You already knew the outfit. Thanks to working for Mr. Spector, you’d been allotted a stipend for very nice, and well-tailored outfits for when you needed to look chic and professional. Great for a first meeting, your double-breasted jacquard wool coat in neutral colors with a pop of blue, and your blue silk button-up tucked into your jacquard wool skirt, matching the coat. Stylish, flattering, and appropriate for meetings with a wealthy man who would undoubtedly be dressed very nicely as well.

It was perfect. You couldn’t believe how lucky you’d gotten. A new assignment so quickly and one that paid so well? It felt like fate.

. . .

Harry had his house manager, Lucio, contact a highly recommended service to find a personal assistant for himself. He hated to find someone new because that was just one more person who knew his business. And he preferred having very few people in his circle. But Thasi was dumb. He couldn’t bear to have her working for him another minute. She had trouble with very basic tasks, like adding events to his calendar. She’d even missed two flights that he had booked for her and the last flight she missed he only realized it when she came into his study with a folder asking him about an account he needed to close out.

He stood from his desk and looked at the girl in astonishment, “Thasi. Why are you not 30,000 feet in the air right now? Why are you here standing in my house asking me this question? You are meant to be headed to New York City.” His voice was firm. Irritated.

The girl dropped her mouth open and blinked her eyes until it had finally dawned on her that she had forgotten to make her flight to meet with an art dealer on Harry’s behalf.

“I take it by the look on your face that you now realize your irreversible blunder. You’re fired. I’ll have your things sent back to your home by tomorrow afternoon.”

The poor girl couldn’t even argue with him. She knew she’d blown it. That was her second missed flight, of equal importance. And Harry felt he’d been quite generous and patient with her by giving her another chance. But he shouldn’t have.

So when he learned about Personal Premier Services from a few of his colleagues he decided to look for a PA that way rather than on his own like he had with Thasi. Harry’d had good luck finding staff for everything he needed for the last five years without help. The personal assistant was something rather new to him as he usually did most of his own errands by himself or had Lucio do them. But things were changing in his business and he needed an assistant quite desperately.

Harry woke before the sun rose and took his morning jog. He loved getting his day started earlier than most people. It meant he had time to do things like, exercise, catch up on world news, meditate, shower, and eat breakfast all before most other people would even be out of their beds. He also wished he could just stay awake forever. Wished he didn’t need sleep. There were so many things he could accomplish during the hours he wasted sleeping. But, being that he was only a mere human, his body required sleep.

“Sir? Y/n Y/l/n has just arrived. I have her waiting in the sitting room. Would you like me to bring her up?”

Harry cocked his head and looked to Lucio as he sat his pen down, “What did you say her name was again?”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

Why did that name somehow feel so familiar?

“No. That’s okay, Lucio.” He stood from his chair, “I’ll go and greet her myself. Thank you.”

Harry’s immediate instincts told him that name was familiar. But why? And oddly, he first let his mind wander to it being you. But it couldn’t be. You were at the ball and he was certain you were wealthy just like him based on your outfit and your demeanor. He’d only gotten your first name that night, not your last name. And while Y/n was your name, the person looking for a job waiting for him downstairs certainly wouldn’t be the same woman who had put a used condom on his hotel door’s handle only to have his now ex-friend-whatever-she-was find it.

Yes. The ex-friend. Aster. He knew he should have stopped their little arrangement before she got too attached. It was never meant to be anything serious. From the start, he told her he was seeing other people but she never wanted to hear about anyone else he might have been sleeping with. And when he realized she started getting attached he should have recognized it was time to end it. But he didn’t.

Harry clenched his jaw and swallowed.

The knocking on his door had come a lot faster than he’d hoped. Aster wasn’t even supposed to be there. Her flight had been canceled so she wasn’t going to make it to New York City. He told her he’d see her the following day when he flew back. But of course, she rebooked a later flight without him knowing. As a surprise. And the call from Aster telling him she was on her way had shocked him and really put a damper on the night he thought he’d be enjoying with you. He just hoped she hadn’t passed you on her way to the door.

As soon as he opened it up, Aster slapped him across the face and held up a napkin with a blush-colored lip stain on it and a scribbled note. But what really had his attention was a droopy condom on his doorknob. Fresh with his come.

“What the fuck, Harry? What the fuck?!”

“Aster, I don’t… what is this?” He knew goddamn well what it was. It was you. “I think someone is just playing a joke on me. This isn’t mine…”

“The note, Harry? Whoever it is knows your fucking name.” Aster pushed passed him to make her way into the room.

Harry looked down the hallway and then cringed as he pulled the condom from the knob with the discarded tissue he picked up off the floor.

“Babe, this was just a cruel joke from someone–“

“Don’t you dare call me babe! And I don’t believe you. Who is going to play this kind of joke on you and then write your name on a napkin from the event you were just at?” She tossed him the napkin, “Hmm? I bet I know who. Someone you just fucked and kicked out because you didn’t think I’d come.”

Harry looked down at the napkin. Sure enough, it said A Secret Garden in the City with Alfred Spector’s company logo printed on it, as well as the note you’d written – Thank you, Harry xx. Bitch. He dropped the napkin onto the bed and ran a hand through his hair.

He didn’t know what to say. And it wasn’t like he’d been all that serious about Aster to begin with. She was gorgeous and they’d known one another for a while but that was where his attraction ended. In all honesty, he didn’t like her that much. Perhaps this was for the better, as much of an asshole as that made him seem.

“Aster, look…” he sighed and sat down at the edge of the messy bed, “You and I weren’t exactly serious. It’s always just been casual. You know that,” he looked at her with her hands on her hips, red in the face, tears just breaking her lash line. “I’m sorry. You and I were never headed for marriage. It was just some fun for a bit.”

“Some fun? I flew out here to see you on a whim. Not because I thought you were just a bit of fun but because I actually did like you. But you know what? You’re right. I don’t think I could have ever pictured myself marrying someone like you. Selfish, pathetic, overly regimented. You’re doomed to die alone, Harry.”

She pressed her lips together and waited for a response but when it didn’t come she stomped toward the door, slamming it behind her on her way out.

Harry smoothed his expensive blazer out and brushed off the feeling he was getting as he walked through the hallway to the foyer and then peeked into the sitting area where his interviewee would be sitting and waiting for him.

He nearly jumped back when his eyes met yours. Both of your faces held the same expression. Complete shock lined with minor disgust.

“This must be a joke,” you stood up from the plush silk-lined chair you’d been sitting in and looked around the room as if someone were going to pop out and tell you that you were on that show, Candid Camera, and it was all for a good laugh.

But the only person in your sight was the man you had a one-night stand with. The cocky asshole who’d treated you like garbage and then kicked you out of his room when he got a call from someone.

“I think there must be a mistake… You’re… are you a personal assistant? I’m confused.” Harry mimicked your body language, pivoting himself to look around to see if he could find someone and demand answers.

“Yes. That’s what I do for a living. But clearly, I have no intention of working for anyone like you, so if you don’t mind…” you picked up your briefcase and began to walk toward Harry to move past him and see yourself out.

But just as you walked through the threshold of the sitting room to the foyer Harry spoke, “Y/n.”

You stopped and turned to look at him in question.

“Come. Let’s have a chat,” he turned and began walking toward the grand stairwell that led upstairs, turning back to make sure you were following.

You blinked your eyes and scoffed as you looked down at your red-painted nails. Should you follow him? What would be the point? Just to hear him insult you and turn you away at the end anyway?

“You are looking for a job, are you not?” Harry spoke from the bottom of the stairwell, his hand on the lacquered wooden banister.

“I am. But… I don’t think this would work out.” You gestured at him.

“You and I are professionals and you come highly regarded. I’m in great need of an assistant. At the very least we can have a discussion and see where it takes us. I don’t like my time wasted and I’m sure you don’t either. You came all the way here. Let’s at least talk.”

Harry thought you looked cute and he could see the gears turning in your head. He could deal with the one night he’d had with you and the very improper thing you’d done which outed him to Aster if you were good at what you did.

“Yeah, but we…” you chose your words carefully, “Friday night? I honestly don’t think–“

“I can look past that if you can. This is strictly professional. I’ve no interest in anything more.”

What were you to do? He hadn’t just been a one-night stand. He was an asshole. Could he really pretend that none of that had happened? Could you?

But. There was the matter of the salary he was offering. An enticing and frankly irresistible number that could have you swallowing your pride.

“Fine. But I can assure you I will not tolerate being treated like…” you paused to carefully choose your words again. You were certain his house had staff listening in.

Before you could find the word you were seeking, Harry spoke, “Like an assistant who is paid to do her job flawlessly?” He began to take the steps upward and you followed.

You frowned at his description. As if you wouldn’t do your job flawlessly. You weren’t sure what he was implying but you had a bad feeling about this.

When you followed him into a large study with dark woods and big windows with heavy drapes, a huge walnut desk with an expensive chair and bookshelves lining one of the walls he closed, and locked, you noted, the door behind himself, “Sit.”

You looked at the plushy green velvet chairs with tufted cushions and ornate carvings in the arms and legs and placed your bag down on the chair next to the one you sat in. He sat in his own chair at his desk and looked at you, a harsh expression on his face. He was far more intimidating in this setting.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he spoke clearly as he kept his eyes pinned to yours, “What you did when you left that night is unforgivable in a personal setting. And because of that, you and I will never be friends. But that doesn’t mean we can’t work well together as boss and employee. I expect complete discretion and a professional attitude from anyone that works for me. Is that a problem for you?”

You felt your ears growing hot as your anger slowly rose, “I am the most professional and discreet personal assistant you’ll ever find. Anyone else will disappoint you and I would also expect that any employer would treat me professionally and fairly. What you did to me that night was insulting and something I will never forget nor forgive. So don’t worry, I’d never want to be a friend to anyone like you.”

Harry clenched his jaw at your response and nodded, “Fair enough. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk job details and salary.” Harry looked down at his folder and opened it up.

“Salary? That part was already determined. Plus 10% on top if we come to an agreement on terms of employment today.” You reminded him.

Harry laughed and looked up at you with his head tilted to the side as if he were curious about you, “That was before I knew who I was offering such a generous salary to.” He looked down at the paper in front of him, marking something out and scribbling over it. He held the sheet of paper out to you.

You squinted at him and leaned forward to take the paper and your eyes widened at the new number he’d written in on the contract. You laughed and crumpled the paper as you stood from your chair, dropping it onto the floor and lifting your bag, “Goodbye, Mr. Styles.”

Turning and walking over the grand Persian rug that took up most of the floor you reached for the handle and when you pulled realized the door was locked. You placed your fingers over the keyhole and turned back to the smug fucker. He sat comfortably in his chair with his brows raised at you, unimpressed.

“Unlock the fucking door. This conversation is over.” You were fuming.

“And why’s that? I feel like that’s just a starting place. A negotiation if you will. Tell me why you deserve more and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“This isn’t a game. You had a perfectly fine offer that I was willing to negotiate off of but now you’re just insulting me, once again might add. I’d never work for anyone for that wage. Much less a self-absorbed man who treats women like rubbish.”

Harry folded his lips into his mouth as he tampered his grin. His cocky attitude was infuriating, “Oh please. Save the dramatics. Sit.”

You scoffed and shook your head, “No. You’re an overly egotistical moron with nothing to back it up. I will not stand for being insulted this way.”

Harry pushed himself out of his chair and began to walk toward you, “Nothing to back it up? Wrong,” he grinned as he looked around his extravagantly decorated room and back toward you, “This home is a great example of what I’ve got to show for my accomplishments. My bank accounts as well,” he slowly walked to your side and put his hand onto the heavy oak door you were standing in front of as he licked his lips and looked down at your outfit before looking directly into your eyes, “And I’m pretty sure I had you crying my name over and over again when I made you come. I’d say that’s a great reason for my inflated ego. You certainly thought I was great when I had my dick inside of you.”

You swallowed and then scowled at his nerve to bring up such a thing, “Well, like you said, I’m a bit dramatic. I was overplaying it that night because I didn’t want you to feel bad. Now open the fucking door.”

Harry’s smirk didn’t fall as he leaned in closer, “Liar. You loved it,” then he backed away, giving you enough space to breathe, “Not that you’ll ever have a chance to experience it again.”

“Like I’d want that little thing anywhere near me. Now, are you gonna open the door or do I need to call 911 for attempted kidnapping?” You dug into your bag and pulled your cell phone out.

Harry laughed and you watched in dismay as his dimples appeared. He looked too handsome to be such an asshole. He put his hands up in surrender, “Okay. Fine. We’ll go back to negotiating off the original salary plus 10%. Okay?”

You sighed. You hated that you were even considering it. The salary he was offering was too good, though. You could handle him if he kept personal matters out of your working relationship. The worst-case scenario would be that you quit and told the service about him and how he treated you (of course you’d gather evidence so no one else had to put up with his shit) and then find another job working for someone else.

You rolled your eyes and moved past him to go back to your seat.

Harry rounded the desk and sat down, putting his elbows on the desk once again, just like he’d done when you both first sat down to negotiate terms, “There we go. Money talks doesn’t it?”

Unfortunately, he was right. Money does talk.

You rolled your eyes again and looked at the back corner of his office to relieve yourself from his intense gaze.

“Less attitude, Y/n. Let’s begin, shall we?”

You suffered through an hour of going back and forth on expectations with Harry but at the end realized it wasn’t that bad. Once you both got out your frustrations at the beginning it seemed to flow smoothly after.

You even talked him into paying you 15% more, rather than just the 10%. Which you felt was a big win. Harry didn’t seem that phased by it.

He led you to what would be your room, which had your jaw dropping to the floor. It was… gorgeous. Like the rest of the house, it was grand and old but well-kept. The wide plank dark floors were covered with a light cream wool rug with small yellow, green, and blue flowers woven into the fabric. Long soft, lacy drapes hung from the ceiling and brushed against the floor over the tall windows that overlooked the massive back garden full of trees and flowers and fountains. The king-sized four-poster bed had a pale yellow, silk canopy with tiny blue birds sewn into the material. The bedspread was white silk with the same yellow and blue birds sewn in. Ornate, heavy wooden side tables, a dresser with a big vanity and silk-covered cushion sat across from the bed. An antique chandelier hung in the center of the room, high above the bed. Flowers and potted plants with green leaves rounded out the space. There were two closed doors. One led to a small closet (not a surprise it was so small for the period of the house), and the other to a fully updated, spa bathroom which… you really had to pause for a bit as you took it all in.

Harry handed you keys to the house and a fob key that would allow you in the gates that surrounded the home and told you to arrange to have your things moved in by the following day (on his tab) and that you would start work at 8am sharp.

You called Brandy the moment you drove out of the gates to tell her what had just happened.

“It’s him. It’s the asshole one-night stand. I just accepted the offer to be his assistant.”

“I’m coming over with a bottle of wine. I need details in person.”

“Brandy, I’ve got to make arrangements and get everything ready, I don’t know…” you hemmed as you drove down the road with your heart beating fast in your chest. You couldn’t believe you’d just accepted to work with Harry Styles.

“Don’t make stupid excuses with me. You can do all that with a glass of wine in your hand.”

. . .

“I see why you took the job. Damn. I’m jealous,” Brandy spoke as she stood in your bedroom doorway while you packed up things you’d need right away. Harry explained that you’d be staying at his house more often during the week than your own apartment. He ran a tight schedule and driving an hour to his house every morning didn’t sound appealing and he didn’t like to be kept waiting.

“Yeah. I was going to say no. I really was but… how can I turn down that offer? I’ve never made so much in my life and honestly? Probably never will again. I figure it’ll be like a trial run. We’ll see if he can be professional.”

You called around and found movers and arranged for them to have everything delivered to Harry’s address the following afternoon. It was still early in the day so you scheduled to have a set of your spare keys delivered by a courier by 5 pm so they could have access to your apartment the following day as you’d be gone.

You were busy the whole time Brandy was there but you were glad she was with you. You marked items you needed to have delivered and printed out a sheet of paper for a checklist for the movers.

But by the time your keys were picked up by the courier and you were halfway through the bottle of wine, you’d finally had time to sit and relax.

“You two are totally gonna fuck again,” Brandy grinned as she looked at the TV.

You scoffed and smacked her arm, “We are not. I’d never go near him again. Not after that night. I actually, fully despise him.”

“Yeah… sure. I mean… I know he was an asshole but also the way you spoke about how good he was in bed? How do you turn that down? You two are gonna practically be living together and traveling together. I don’t know… I looked him up. He’s hot, Y/n. An asshole but… we all have needs.”

Shaking your head you sipped your wine and ignored her. The thought had very very briefly crossed your mind but it was quickly pushed away because the reminder of how he treated you Friday night couldn’t be ignored. You’d never ever forget the way he made you feel so little and so disgusting.

“He literally cheated on someone while he was with me. He had a girlfriend. He fucked me as she was on her way over. Like…” you flailed your arms dramatically, “how could I possibly sleep with someone that is a cheater? I mean willingly? Now that I know?” You shook your head.

Still, Brandy didn’t seem deterred in her assumption, “Yeah… but we don’t really actually know who called him. And if it was someone he was seeing? I mean… come on. It’s not as if they were married. We can gather that much. Yeah, he’s shit for what he did but like… I don’t know,” she shrugged, “It’s not like he cheated on his wife or something.”

Brandy had always looked at things through rose-tinted glasses which was annoying. Where you were more practical and stubborn. There was no way you’d end up in his bed ever again. You didn’t know the excuse for why he kicked you out after he spoke on the phone and called someone babe. But that was beside the point. The more important factor was the way he treated you and that was simply unforgivable.

. . .

You were running late. You couldn’t believe it. Your alarm had gone off on time. You showered, ran through your quick morning routine, double-checked that all your things would be delivered to the correct address, and then you were on the road by 6:45 am. You allotted an extra 15 minutes in case of extra bad traffic.

But traffic is unpredictable.

“Hello?” Harry spoke into the receiver. You had your phone on speaker.

“Harry? Mr. Styles!” You corrected yourself, “Um… I’m stuck on the highway and it’s a bit backed up. I’m just giving you a heads up that I’ll be like…” You sighed and looked at the clock trying to make some kind of conservative estimate, “twenty minutes late?”

You heard him grunt in response and then sigh, “Fine. Please come up to my office the minute you walk in.” And then he hung up. That was it.

And of course, you half expected such a response. He gave you little indication of his opinion on you being late. You just hoped he didn’t hold it against you on your first day. It had genuinely been out of your hands. But then again, you being at the house with him on subsequent mornings would mean that being late in this way wouldn’t happen ever again.

When you parked at the front of the house you finagled your suitcase out of the backseat and lugged it up the front steps just as the door opened, “Good morning, Miss. Can I bring this to your room for you?” An older man stood with a smile as he scooped your suitcase away from you.

“Oh. Uh… Okay. Are you sure?” You followed him inside.

“Absolutely. Mr. Styles is expecting you right away.”

You swallowed and watched the man walk away as you took a breath. Your first day working for Harry Styles. Possibly also your last, depending on how everything went.

You climbed the stairs toward his study and knocked twice before pushing the door open gently.

“Come and sit.” He spoke right away. He didn’t even glance your way as he continued typing at his computer when he spoke.

You sat in the same chair you had the day previous and waited for him to finish whatever he was doing.

He cleared his throat and squinted at his computer screen, “I’m an art dealer as I mentioned yesterday. But… it’s more complicated than that sometimes. I deal in art and cultural artifacts that can sometimes be a bit…” he looked at you, “morally grey in the way they are handled. It’s rare but I do occasionally have opportunities and come across certain pieces when a collector is willing to pay an exorbitant finder’s fee for the item.”

“Morally grey. Which means illegal.” You corrected, keeping your eyes on him.

He shook his head, “No. Nothing I do is illegal. Some take issue with some of the items I procure and where they come from, but ultimately, everything I do is technically legal.”

You nodded. You didn’t know what he meant exactly. But you assumed you’d be finding out soon enough.

After Harry explained in detail your schedule from day to day, he had Lucio give you a quick tour of the parts of the house you didn’t see the day before. He even had a binder with your tentative weekly schedule, important numbers to have on hand, addresses, passcodes, a new laptop, and passwords to his login details for various online accounts. He also handed you a credit card, “You’ll make all your own arrangements as well as mine. The limit on this card will cover the cost of flights and accommodations. You and I will be traveling frequently, as I mentioned yesterday.”

Your morning was filled with short bursts of Harry giving you information and what to expect, but half of that consisted of you waiting while he spoke on the phone and typed out emails. You couldn’t imagine why an art dealer would be as busy as seemed to be. Clearly, he was making lots of money so there was no doubt that he was busy with clients. But why?

You researched the ins and outs of being an art dealer the evening before, once Brandy’s Uber arrived to take her home. The typical art dealer did not make the kind of money you knew Harry had. Most also typically worked through auctions, galleries, and museums. Harry seemed to be his own entity doing deals as an individual. So you knew he wasn’t typical in his field.

At lunchtime you were hungry. You’d eaten something small before dashing to your car that morning but that had long been digested.

“Mr. Styles?” You looked at him from your spot in your chair as you closed your new laptop.

He looked at you with an eyebrow raised.

“It’s lunchtime for me. I was hoping I could get something to eat if that’s okay? You should probably also eat. I can bring you something if you take your lunch up here.” You honestly couldn’t have cared less if he ate, but you were so used to making sure Alfred ate that asking Harry was automatic.

Harry’s brows scrunched together and he looked at his computer screen, “Hadn’t realized the time. Sure. Feel free to make something for yourself or you can ask Carl to. I’d like a vegan cassoulet.”

You stood and looked at him in confusion, “A vegan… what?”

“A vegan cassoulet,” He pronounced the word obnoxiously, “Carl will know what I want. Just tell him.”

You repeated the word to yourself. Cas ooo lay – cas ooo lay… You thought it sounded like one of those French dishes you’d never ventured to try.

In the kitchen, you found Carl right away and told him what Harry wanted.

“And what for you?” He began to pull out pans and got to work right away.

“I can manage. I think just a sandwich. Is everything here in the fridge?” You opened up the door and immediately were overwhelmed by the amount of groceries and items packaged inside. The fridge itself was state-of-the-art. Everything in the kitchen was.

Carl laughed and stepped up behind you, “You can find everything you might need in this kitchen yes. But perhaps we’ll leave the cooking to me today, just until you get used to where everything is. What kind of sandwich would you like?”

“Oh. Maybe that’s a good idea. You don’t mind?”

Shaking his head, Carl reached passed you to pull out some vegetables, “Not at all. This is what I do. How about a French bread panini? I can slice up some turkey and Swiss, load it with vegetables? Or maybe you’d prefer grilled chicken and pesto? Egg salad? Or are you vegetarian?”

You laughed and shook your head, “I’m definitely not vegetarian. And the first one sounds fine. Turkey and Swiss panini. Any veggies you put on it will be good. I just don’t like mayo.”

It was wild to be having lunch made for yourself by a professional private chef. And Harry’s cassoulet looked divine but after googling it you learned it’s usually made with various kinds of meat and that the duck confit is what makes the dish. But since his version was supposedly vegan, you couldn’t imagine it tasting anything like it was probably supposed to.

You also learned that Carl wasn’t just a personal chef. He also did all the grocery shopping.

After lunch, your belongings arrived. The movers placed everything in your new bedroom and handed you the key to your apartment before they left.

“This is it?” Harry asked standing in the doorway as he looked around at the boxes and bags you’d had delivered.

“Yeah. I don’t have much I need to keep here. You’ve got the room fully furnished. Just my clothes and essentials.” You shrugged as you opened up the box near the bed.

You could feel Harry’s eyes on you as you dug into the box and pulled out your potted Pothos plant. “What?” You looked at him as you placed the plant on the floor.

“Nothing. Um,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I think it’s a good stopping point today. We’ve got you set up on everything so you can unpack and relax. Normally our days will be longer but since it’s your first…” he put both arms down by his side and stopped fidgeting, “It’s good for today. And like I said earlier, you are free to watch TV in the main room downstairs or get anything from the kitchen you need at all. You don’t need to just stay in your room all night unless you choose to.”

You squinted at him, wondering if there was some kind of catch. He was rather pleasant, you had to admit. After you both got everything out of the way the day before things had been fine. Normal even. But you still had to keep your guard up around him. And all it took to remember who you were dealing with was what he’d done that night.

You decided against going downstairs to watch TV. Maybe you’d feel comfortable enough to do that later on but that night, it felt nice to take a long bath and listen to music and then curl up on your soft, silky bed with your laptop and Netflix.

Though you did get thirsty. And a bit hungry around 8. So you ventured down and hoped to not run into anyone.

Except of course, you ran into someone. When you entered the kitchen you saw Harry standing in front of the refrigerator looking in. Apparently, he had the same idea as you.

You cleared your throat and Harry turned to see you there, “Oh, hey.” He closed the fridge and faced you, “Need something?”

You nodded and stepped toward the pantry, “A little hungry and thirsty. Is it okay?”

“Of course it is. Help yourself to whatever. I was just about to make some pasta. Something simple. Would you like some?”

“Yeah. I can help you make it. What do we need?” You neared the fridge and opened it up, pulling out a glass pitcher of water.

Harry ran down the list of ingredients, which weren’t many, and you helped him slice garlic while he boiled the pasta and poured a can of San Marzano tomatoes into a small pot.

Everything came together quickly and you both sat at the island to eat the late-night meal together.

“Tomorrow we’ll book a trip to Vancouver. Someone has a few pieces I’d love to see in person.” Harry explained what to expect on the trip as you listened.

Then you got to talking about your parents and then college. Harry shared a little about himself but it wasn’t much. You didn’t expect that he would, but he did tell you about his mom and sister. You could tell how important they were to him just by the way he spoke. It made you feel warm toward him in a way knowing that he cared about people other than himself. Something you hadn’t been sure about as he seemed so cold.

When you were both done you tried to help him clean up, “You don’t have to do this, Y/n. I’ve got a housekeeper who will be here in the morning. Why don’t you go to bed?”

“Are you sure? Are you headed to bed?” You asked as you placed the forks into the sink.

He nodded, “Yeah. Time to call it a night.”

“Do you always go to bed this early,” you grinned as you refilled your water to bring it with you to your room.

He raised his brows, “Yeah. I get up at 4:30 in the morning to start my day so 9:30 or 10 is about when I go to bed.”

You cringed to yourself. 4:30 in the morning? That sounded like hell.

You both went your separate ways as you bid Harry good night.

. . .

You had a busy morning. You booked a trip for the following week to Vancouver for yourself and Harry. Two nights at The Four Seasons (2 separate rooms, connected), first-class airline tickets, a reservation for the 2nd evening at a nice restaurant for four people, an on-call driver for the whole visit, and set-up details with someone’s assistant named Lana for the meeting.

Harry wanted everything to be perfect so you had to work at extracting as much information from Lana as possible. At first, Lana sent you an itinerary that was rather simple and would have most people feeling good about the meeting. But Harry took one look at it and knew he needed more information. So you spent the majority of your morning speaking with the young woman and filling in details that appeared to be missing.

“This is excellent, Y/n,” Harry looked up at you as he stood from his desk. The itinerary and all the bookings were taken care of. “I’m leaving to take care of something personal. You can have the rest of the day off. Thank you.”

You felt pleased. So far, working for Harry hadn’t been all that bad. He was picky and hard to please but you could handle him. You just hoped that the momentum you two had would continue into the weeks ahead.

. . .

You met Brandy out at your favorite club. You wore a cute black dress and black booties and your black leather jacket.

“Oh damn, girl! You look good!” Brandy called to you when she spotted you through the crowd.

“I can’t stay all night! I have to work in the morning, so I stop at 2 drinks!” You spoke loudly so Brandy could hear.

Brandy’s side eye told you that your friend would be trying to get you to enjoy yourself for longer. But you couldn’t. The last thing you wanted to do was to be on Harry’s bad side and be hungover the next morning.

But, Brandy was convincing. Too convincing at times.

Four martinis in and you were painfully aware that you wouldn’t be driving back. You’d need an Uber and that kind of sucked because Harry would know when your car wasn’t there. But… since you’d already need to Uber and you were already out, you had a fifth martini and danced with Brandy and forgot all about your promise to yourself.

The night grew blurry and you couldn’t stop talking about your boss.

“He’s so put together too,” you slurred as you and Brandy leaned into one another, too drunk to dance or drink anymore.

“I know. You keep saying that. And how big his cock was,” Brandy laughed and you pushed her, causing her to stumble back dramatically so you reached out to steady her but wound up falling with her to the floor in a fit of laughter.

Yeah, you’d gotten sloppy drunk.

“I need to go,” you pushed yourself up to stand as you reached for your cell phone. You could hardly see straight, and pulling up the Uber app was simply not going to work. Instead, you called the second to last person you’d texted, Harry. You really hadn’t put much thought into it.

He answered the line and you pushed your way toward the front of the club to go outside, dragging Brandy with you, “Harry!” You howled loudly.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at Club Yega. Can you pretty please come pick me up? I’m so drunk.” Your voice was scratchy and your words were watery.

Once you got outside you repeated your question, unable to hear what Harry had responded to you.

“Okay. Just wait for me outside. Is there anyone with you?” He sounded concerned.

“Brandy is here and the security guy standing by the door,” you said matter-of-factly before hiccupping.

Harry told you he’d be there soon and Brandy wobbled into your side as she used one eyeball to call an Uber for herself.

You were unable to recall how long it took for Harry to arrive, or when Brandy had gotten into her Uber and left but when you saw him, he was standing over you with his hand out, “Up you get,” he grasped your hand and helped you stand up. You’d been sitting on the sidewalk.

“Should be more responsible,” Harry chided you as he helped you to his running car, “No one’s watching over you. Where’s this friend you had with you?”

“She was here I promise but her Uber came to get her,” you stumbled into his car and plopped down into the seat with an umph!

Harry looked back at the front door security person and nodded to him as he rounded the car and got inside.

“Harry, I’m sorry. I was going to only have 2 drinks. Swear.”

“It happens. But you should have called me sooner. Don’t like that you were sitting out there alone like that. It’s late. And we have an early day tomorrow.”

You turned to look at him as he pulled into the street and reached a hand up to the curl that covered the top of his ear, “You’re so pretty. Which is weird because you’re such a fucking dick.”

Harry shook his head and laughed to himself as he kept his eyes on the road.

“I’m serious. You’re too pretty for it to be real. Your voice even.” You croaked.

Harry glanced at you quickly, “Oh yeah?” His grin widened. He knew the alcohol was talking but he certainly didn’t mind hearing your thoughts about him while you were inebriated.

“Yeah,” you lowered your finger to his shoulder and then poked at his bicep before dropping your hand back into your lap, “Nice everything. Except you’re not actually nice are you?” You let out a garbled laugh and closed your eyes for a moment.

“Hey… Come on. You’re drunk. Just close your eyes and we’ll be home soon.”

You shook your head and looked back at him, “Bossy too. But it sucks because it was so good that night. God I still think about it… and then I remember how you kicked me out like I was filthy. That was mean. Hurt my feelings.”

Harry sighed and stayed quiet. He was not going to engage in this kind of conversation with you while you were drunk. He was sure you wouldn’t remember any of it anyway.

But you didn’t stop there, “I wish I could stop thinking about it, though. S’not fair.”

Harry kept his eyes on the road and listened.

“The way you sounded when you were coming. I keep hearing it,” you squeezed your thighs together and looked out the window with a soft sigh. “Never had it like that before. But fuck you.”

Harry swallowed and blinked his eyes. He was a little surprised by your drunk confession. He liked that you thought fondly of some aspects of that night. Clearly you had enjoyed the sex. But to hear you saying how your feelings were hurt and that you were still angry about it all?

He looked over at you and down to your thigh where your dress had ridden up quickly before looking back at the road. He still refused to engage in this. You were drunk. Very much so.

“And your hands, Harry…” you reached over to brush your fingers over the back of his hand that was gripped on the steering wheel, “Oh god…” you breathed your words, “Your fingers. How good you are with them,” you bit your lip and leaned your head back into the leather seat and closed your eyes. “But still fuck you.”

When you were silent for a few minutes Harry looked over at you and noticed you were asleep.

He was glad you’d stopped staying the things you were. Your words had him confused. You were going from hot to cold fast. But he knew you wouldn’t ever reveal such things to him if you hadn’t been so far gone.

Waking you up gently, he put his arms under yours to help you out of his car, “We’re home, Y/n. Let’s get you up to bed.”

You were able to use your legs, but things were spinning. You clung tightly to Harry as he slowly brought you upstairs to your room.

When your bottom hit your mattress you laid back and sighed, “I might throw up,” you said.

Harry laughed quietly and shook his head as he helped you out of your shoes. He knelt down and unzipped the leather to pull each one off. He didn’t intend to let his eyes wander over your legs and your thighs, but your dress had gotten bunched up so he could practically see your panties. And then they were fully on view when you scooted yourself into your bed further.

Harry leaned over you and pulled your blankets up over your body, “I’ll be right back with water.”

He couldn’t believe how adorable he thought you were. Even though you were still angry at him over what he’d done he liked the sass a little. He was definitely attracted to you. There was no doubt in his mind about that. He tried not thinking about that night with you but after you’d brought it up he couldn’t help himself but to indulge in thoughts of the way you felt and how wet you got for him. Your body, your voice… You were good with your hands too, he smiled remembering your comment about how you liked his hands. But of course, the smile fell from his face when he remembered how the night ended. How shitty he’d been. But now things were too complicated and he wasn’t sure that any kind of apology would ever be enough.

When he got back to your room you were asleep. Out cold. He placed the water on your nightstand and brushed his fingers along your forehead. You were cute.

He plugged in your cell phone and smiled at your sleeping face.

“Good night, pretty girl,” he whispered as he turned off the lamp next to you before leaving the room and closing the door behind himself.

Part 3

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leeknow-thoughts · 3 days ago

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Want So Bad - Prelude

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ warnings ! : minor injuries

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ chapters : prelude, chapter 1, chapter 2 , chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5

𐙚˙⋆.˚ chapter rating : PG

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ pairing ! : poly!minsung x f!reader

"Holy shit," it's a man, he must be behind you, the faint sloshing accompanied by the sound of wet footsteps can be heard through the ringing in your ears, "are you okay? You took quite a fall!"

Nervous was an understatement. Whatever you seemed to feel made your heart skip beats, honestly, you weren't ruling out the possibility that you are having a heart attack. You continue to place one foot in front of the other like your life depends on it. You have to get to the doctor's office. The walk - more like frantic jog - is anything but pleasant, the clouds above pouring rain onto your awaiting self, too hasty to grab an umbrella or tie your shoes.

You can only blame yourself for what happens when you step on your shoelace, falling forward, straight onto your face. All the air is knocked from your lungs and your ears start to ring all while rain drizzles onto your back. The pavement is rough under your body, no one in their right mind would be out right now, not with how it is storming. The discomfort really begins to set in, the wet clothes paired with the rough concrete and the ache in your chest all mix together to confirm that in fact there is something worse than being awoken by getting a charlie horse.

Sharp eyes, that's what you immediately notice, sharp brown eyes, he has a sharp nose as well, black well kept hair. He doesn't smile, only slightly grins when he sees that you are moving. He isn't soaked like you are. He holds an umbrella over his head, and both his shoes are double knotted. "Can you get up?"

Why didn't your chest hurt anymore, and why did everything just seem suddenly fine. The words are knocked from your mind, but apparently, you speak because the man is pulling you up. "The campus doctor's office is closed, it's a Saturday," he's so monotone when he speaks to you it is almost sobering, yet you're still so intoxicated for some strange reason.

What a stupid ass thing to say to someone who fell and isn't moving. As the man gets closer, you can almost pinpoint his identity. You're positive you've heard his voice before.

"My name is Minho," he is pulling you onto your feet, the feet of the same legs that feel as though they'll give out at any moment, "c'mon we need to get you inside, you can come to my dorm, it's just there," he points to his dorm hall and your legs nearly buckle together.

It hurts to speak when you realize that you can, "w-what?"

You feel a hand pressing on the small of your back. You can feel the warmth through your soaked sweater. The harsh grip on your arm startles you. Somehow, you find the strength to lift up your head and face whoever is touching you.

Normally you'd never go to a stranger's dorm, especially not that of a man, you were too smart to take that risk, but it feels like you've known Minho for years.

He is quick to catch you despite the best efforts of your knocking knees, not letting you crash and burn twice in one day. "Okay, okay, up, up, up, there you go, atta girl."

He assists your walking the best that he can. He lets you lean on him as you hobble to his dorm house.

The halls of the dorm house are cold, almost sterile-like. "There, second room on the right," Minho speaks to you.

In stark contrast to the hallway, his room is inviting, warm, and cozy. A boy is sitting at a desk, "Jisung-ah!" Minho calls out to the boy, "help me clean her up. She fell in the rain."

#bun.writes #bunwritesskz #skz #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids #stray kids x you #lee know #lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #lee know smut #minsung x reader #bun's series : wantsobad #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung #minsung

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covetyou · 1 year ago

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the best of you, honey, belongs to me

part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) chapter warnings: dub con, unprotected P in V, oral (f receiving), creampie, choking, spanking, mild praise kink, potential assault, derogatory names (slut), drug reference, unspecified age gap. word count: 5.5k chapter summary: Joel Miller is an asshole. An asshole and a liar. Right?

A/N: HOLY SHIT I DID IT I FINISHED SOMETHING. I did it Ma!

Thank you all so much for sticking with me this month. Your support has been silly lovely and I genuinely love you all a little bit.

Ty to @iamasaddie and @jupiter-soups for being the first people to cheer me on from the sidelines. You both made me excited about my own writing, which feels weird but I'm very grateful to you.

I hope you like it, thank you, goodbye, see you soon, I love you.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

song: NFWMB by Hozier

Joel Miller was a massive fucking liar, you'd realized.

You probably would have been able to guess that before, but as you were stood here, back pushed against a brick wall in an alleyway, it was clear as day.

You'd been dragged down here by two men - a small rat like one and a taller one with a mean look on his face - and thrown against the wall. Your back smarted, and you tried to reason with them, but they were tugging at your clothes and threatening you before you could think of anything useful to say.

They were torn off you as quick as they were on you.

And now, heavy fists were pounding into them, beating into their faces and stomachs as they slouched pathetically against the brick opposite. Joel had found you, somehow noticed in a crowd of people that you were suddenly gone. He had someone with him, they looked similar enough that they could have been family, and both were beating into the men that had dragged you down the alley.

A yelled threat and the two men were hobbling away, beaten and bloody and holding onto themselves in their retreat.

"You okay?"

You're looking at Joel, so it takes a second to register that the other man is addressing you. You slowly turn to him - definitely related - and nod. You're stunned and a little winded more than anything.

Joel is flexing his fist, staring daggers at you. His companion doesn't say another word to you, but you hear him talk in hushed tones to Joel, before Joel mutters something back to him and he walks away.

You should probably be more scared of being alone down an alley with Joel Miller than the other two guys but, though it confuses you, you feel safer than ever. He'd protected you, saved you, and that's how you knew that Joel Miller was a fucking liar.

"C'mon," he growls to you, walking away and expecting you to follow. Of course, you follow, even through the low lying anger and frustration that's still simmering in your belly.

As you walk behind, you watch as he clenches his fist and flexes his hands over and over. Before you know it you're outside his apartment block, being roughly dragged up the stairs by a heavy hand on your arm, dragged down a corridor and deposited in front of his front door. He doesn't look at you as he fishes his key out from an inner pocket on his coat.

"Saw you fuckin' lookin' at me, I told you not to do that shit," he says angrily, throwing you into his apartment and slamming the door closed behind you.

"They hurt you?" You shake your head. "They touch you?" You shake your head again.

His nostrils flair. You can almost hear the bones in his hands creak from how hard he's clenching his fists.

And so you poke the fucking bear again, because what is there to lose. You'd spent all week mulling it over, getting angrier and angrier as you talked yourself in circles. He didn't like you and you definitely didn't like him. You didn't want to kiss him, but also you did. Neither of you cared, but maybe both of you did. Everything was feeling like a lie and all you wanted was the truth. So you poke, bracing yourself for impact.

"You're a liar," you whisper, pulling at the sleeves of your coat.

His eyes immediately snap to yours, and he's making quick work of the distance between you. He's toe to toe with you when he stops, looking down at you, fists still firmly clenched at his sides.

"What did you fuckin' say to me?"

You swallow before you speak again, meek as a mouse but a fire in your belly. "You're a liar. You said you wouldn't look out for me."

"S'that why you kept lookin'? S'that why you got yourself in trouble? To prove some fuckin' point?"

You frown at him - it hadn't been intentional. You were glaring at him when they grabbed you, stuffing a gloved hand over your mouth to keep your scream from being heard. The people around you didn't care, didn't stop what they were doing or go for help. They just left you. But Joel came anyway.

"You think I asked for that?" you say, trying to keep your voice from cracking. You never have and never will cry in front of this man, not like this anyway. You watch as his mouth curls to sneer at you, the fire turning into a sick feeling bubbling up through your belly as you watch his lip raise.

You don't know what comes over you, but you push at his chest, wanting to touch him and get him away from you in equal measure. It takes him by surprise, the force of your push making him stumble back.

You both stare at each other, unmoving for a beat, both shocked that you'd dare to touch him let alone push him. You think maybe you should run, get away before he gets you, but your reactions are slower than his, and you're raising your arms to protect yourself as he makes one big stride over to you.

The blow doesn't come.

He's pulling at your coat, jerking it down your arms, before tugging at the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. It gets caught, and you hear a tear as it catches on your arm, but he keeps pulling anyway. The fabric splits from your body, tattered and ruined as it's discarded on the floor.

"You think I would fuckin' hit you?" he says angrily as he tugs at the rest of your clothes. "You think I would fuckin' hurt you in any way you don't want?"

You have no time to answer before he's manhandling you again, pushing you roughly into his room.

He pushes you forward onto his bed, bending you over and holding you there as he reaches around and tugs at your zipper. You fight to stand, but the weight of his hand keeps you in place as he pulls your pants and panties down in one, leaving them around your knees so you can't run to escape even if you wanted to. Any thought that you could, should, run is already gone. You don't want to, not any more. Whatever he wants to do, whatever anger he has for you, you want it. You want to feel his anger, you want it to burn into yours until you combust.

A hand claps down on your ass and you feel the sting ripple up your back. He wanted that one to hurt, and it did. Another sharp slap hits your other cheek soon after, the sting of pain made worse by your cold skin, but you're glad for it because you wanted that one to hurt too.

Both his hands rub across your cheeks, drawing a groan from you as he massages them and soothes the sting before rough fingers pull you apart. He always did like looking.

He wastes no time in plunging his wet tongue into your pussy from behind, Joel's hands yanking your pants down the to your feet to spread you open further for him. "You're fuckin' dripping," he says between breaths as you push back into his face.

"You this wet from those guys?" You don't answer, so he slaps a hand down on your ass again.

"Fuckin' answer me."

"N-no. M'not wet from them."

"Then why," he says, breathing deeply as he devours your pussy, the cold of his nose tickling your hole as the scruff on his jaw scratches at your inner thighs. "Tell me. Tell me why this needy fuckin' pussy is so wet."

"Because of you," you push your face down into his bed, biting at his sheets as his tongue swipes over your clit, already so sensitive your legs are shaking. You arch your back, exposing more of your cunt to his relentless tongue. There's no question or thread of shame in your mind why you like this - why you're already so close to coming undone just from him being an asshole and playing with your pussy.

"Me, huh? Little hole's desperate for me? Look at her cryin' out to be stuffed full, drippin' all over the place."

You couldn't help the drip of slick from your cunt, or the way his words always worked to make it worse. You knew you were a mess, but by now you knew he liked it, even if he taunted you for it. You felt how his grasping hands got firmer, saw as his cock got harder, just at the sight of your glistening pussy.

Two of his thick fingers are pushing into you, the cold feel of them startling you as they slide home. You'd spent a week thinking of his fist buried in your cunt, but his fingers still felt so thick, so much, plunged into your dripping wet heat as they were.

"If you make a mess on my sheets I'll rub your fuckin' nose in it. Act like an animal I'll treat you like one."

If you were an animal, he was fucking feral - a snarling, growling, feral animal of a man that you just couldn't resist.

His fingers curl, dragging against your walls harshly as his tongue slides against your clit again, swirling around the stretched rim where his fingers are embedded in you, tasting you, before slurping at your clit once more. You grind your hips back against his face, trying to get more friction on your clit as he fucks you with his fingers. They're warmed now, the burning heat from your cunt drawing the chill from his bones.

The wet squelch in your cunt is obscene as he laps at your clit, drawing you so close already, your feet still tangled in your pants and your moans muffled by the push of your face into his sheets.

Joel's fingers are gone just as your orgasm starts to raise its head over the horizon, ruining any high you were so close to getting. You slam your fist down on the bed in frustration, ignoring his gruff laugh as you muffle your fuck into his bed. His knees crack as he stands, undoing his belt and pulling his cock from his pants. He doesn't stroke himself, he doesn't need to, he just squeezes himself at the base, lines himself up with your hole and pushes forward.

A strangled moan pulls from your chest as he sheathes himself, pulling your hips back flush with his as his cock impales you in one movement.

"Fuck, if this pussy don't just love this dick."

He draws back slowly, pulling any slick from your cunt back with him, coating himself in you, before slamming back to the hilt.

"Uhh, f-fuck."

You feel him draw back again, holding himself back from you, tip barely inside your cunt, teasing himself at your entrance. Before he can, you push back onto his cock, taking him in with a deep moan.

He stifles a groan, fingers digging into your hips, pinching the flesh in his grip. You try to move, to fuck yourself on his length, but his grip won't let you. You can feel him throb inside you, and you hope he's already close to coming, that he wants you that much he can barely hold himself back.

The thought is gone as soon as he starts pulling back again and thrusting forward quickly, repeatedly slamming his hips into your ass and pulling you back onto him. The sharp slap of his hips and wet squelches of your pussy are muffled only by your moans and Joel's shaky breathing.

"Tell me - you fuck anyone else - like this," you say through staccato gasps as his cock collides with your cervix. "If you say you do - I'll know - you're even more of a - fucking liar."

He throws you forward, pulling out and standing glaring down at you when you twist to look at him, finally able to kick your pants and shoes off your feet.

"You think you're special?" he growls. You take him in, his massive figure stood there still clothed, cock hanging lewdly from his pants and covered in your slick. You want to lick it, taste your own pussy on his cock and catch the drip of precum from his tip before it's wasted.

"No. I'm not. And neither are you," you spread your legs as you say it, willing him to come back, to start fucking you again, but not daring to ask for it. "You're an asshole. I just like that you make me feel good."

"Feeling's mutual, sweetheart." He's pouncing on you before you can process it, yanking his shirt over his head before pulling your spread thighs across his clothed ones, notching at your entrance and sliding straight back in.

You thud back down onto the bed with the force of his cock fucking into you, staring up at him with an open mouth, panting as he starts to cant into you once again. His hands are holding your thighs against his as he rocks so deeply into you you think you can see your lower belly pulse with each movement.

His hands slide down your thighs, pulling you apart where his cock joined with you, swiping a thumb up the slick gathered there and rubbing it around your clit in rough circles. You reach down, hand trying to meet his and hold him there, but he swats you away. You move further instead, grabbing at the waistband of his pants and tugging down, slipping them over his ass before he's pushing you back again. Your fingers drag across his abdomen as you fall back again, watching a shudder crawl through him with the graze of your fingertips.

You try not to smile when his hand falls from you and shimmies his pants further down his legs, over his knees and kicking them off the end of the bed whilst still buried in you. You can see all of him again now, his broad shoulders, dark nipples, the trail of hair down to his cock where it disappears inside you. His thick thighs, spread almost as lewdly as yours, dusted in hair, the muscles flexing with each rock into you. He doesn't look at you as you drink him in, eyes focused on your cunt as he pulls you back open.

He spits down onto your clit. You whine when it collides with your skin and starts to trickle down your spread pussy. You whine again when his thumb draws it up and around your clit, massaging it into you, each swipe of his thumb jerking your swollen nub and bringing you closer to coming undone as he pounds you hard into his mattress.

You throw your head back with the feeling of it all, moaning loudly into the open room.

"You'd let me do anythin' to you, huh."

"Yeah," you admit, head still thrown back and eyes closed. You would, you couldn't even say why, just that you knew you would. That for all the pain at the end of the world, this was a pain that was worth it, a stretch that made you ache in the right ways, the sting of his palm that electrified you, made you feel alive.

"You're just beggin' for me to slap your pussy pink again, ain't you? Fill that pretty little asshole up with my cum. Wear you like a fuckin' glove." He's growling, muttering obscene things to you, things you both know to be true. "You'd let me fuck you anyway I want, even share you with whoever I want."

You nod, stupidly bobbing your head along with the rhythm of him sliding into you.

"This pussy is mine," he growls. "Say it."

"Yours!" you pant, you didn't want it to be anyone elses any more, what was the point when he'd ruined you for anyone else. "M'yours!" Fuck.

"All o' you? That's more than I even asked for sweetheart."

And he's falling forward over you, hands planting either side of your head for leverage as he pounds into you harder than he ever has, abandoning your clit just as you were about to fall apart underneath him yet again. Any words to correct yourself are gone as you groan, pulling your brows together and watching him. His face relaxes and contorts over and over, sweat beads at his temples. You know his hair would feel damp if only you would reached up to touch it.

He shifts to his elbows, the sweat from his chest and belly mingling with yours, making your bodies slick as they slide together. You watch his mouth open as he pants, the heat of his breath on your face cooling the sweat dripping down your neck. You can smell him, see every imperfection of his skin in such detail that you're struck dumb, angry, and desperate all in one swoop. Something so close still feels so far away, and a frustrated sob is bubbling from you before you can stop it.

Something inside you snaps with that. You'd be chasing it for weeks, denied something you hadn't even dared to ask for.

You grab him by the throat as his hips roll into you, gasping out a breath before you grit your teeth and say it, forcing him to look directly at you.

"Fucking kiss me."

He laughs in your face and you fight down the shame for even daring to ask for something you wanted, something you deserved. "Is that what you want?"

You nod, squeezing his throat beneath your fingertips.

He pulls back from you - you want to claw at him and hold him to you but he pushes your hand against his throat with his own. He looks down between you, your pussy creaming around his cock and swollen clit twitching with each thrust.

You tighten the grip on the sides of his throat, feeling the hard thud of blood through his veins at your fingertips, drawing his eyes back to yours.

"Fuck, that's it, sweetheart."

He suddenly throws your arm down from his neck, pinning both if your hands down as he puts his weight on top of you.

"That what you want?" he grits out. "That what you keep coming back for? Thought you were whoring yourself out for pills, not a fuckin' kiss. Are you that fuckin' desperate?"

He's goading you, you know he is. Still, you want to scream at him, but his face is close to yours now, so terrifyingly close you could kiss him by accident if you weren't careful. Suddenly you're terrified of it, desperate but terrified.

His aquiline nose slides up the side of your face, and you stop breathing. "You want this?"

"Please." You'll be angry at yourself for begging later, right now you'd say anything if it meant he'd finally give it to you.

He drags his nose across your face, rubs his nose against yours. He's practically still inside you now, the shallow rock of his hips the only movement either of you are making. "You sure?"

"Please," you whisper again, breath ghosting across his lips. You try not to move your mouth too much, barely muttering the word in case your mouth touches his. His own breath huffs against your mouth, teasing you with the taste of him.

"S'all you want, huh?"

"Mm." He's so close you don't trust yourself to speak.

His nose nuzzles into yours, the hair on his face tickling at your sensitive top lip. Then you feel it, the bow of his top lip swiping against yours, not kissing just feeling.

You're frozen, terrified to move, terrified to feel what you've been desperate for for months.

But you made it through the worst days at the end of the world. What was fear any more except another lie.

You press your lips forward, done with waiting, done with being patient, done with putting others first. You want it so badly that finally, finally, you take it.

At the first press of your lips to his, he releases your wrists, sliding his hand down the curve of your body to hold you to him. You moan into his mouth, blinking back angry tears as you wrap your own hand around his neck to pull him in further. At first he doesn't move against you, letting you kiss the soft swell of his mouth, but when you slip your tongue against his bottom lip and breathe him in, his mouth opens and his lips press to yours, giving back everything you're taking.

"This all you wanted this whole time?" he whispers against your mouth.

"Not all I wanted," you mumble. Your eyes are closed, head dizzy from breathing so deeply, from finally doing the thing you'd literally only dreamed of.

"No?"

"No," you swallow before continuing, the shame of admission gone now. What shame could there even be when it was so obvious. You open your eyes just as you speak. "I wanted all of it."

"Yeah?" You think from the look on his face that he needed to hear it as much as you needed to say it, so you kiss him again, just because you can.

He presses his hips into you harder, making you gasp straight into his mouth, the sharp pressure of his cock so much with the fuzzy high in your head. He does it again, kissing you of his own volition this time and swallowing your moan down as he starts fucking you again, one hand settling in your hair as the other wanders your body. You can still taste the salty sweetness of your own pussy on his mouth as you lick into him.

Your own hand dances with his over your body, teasing your own nipples and stroking down, down, until you push your hand between your bodies and feel between your legs. You're a mess, sweat and the wetness from your pussy merged together to create a slip and slide of slick as he slides his cock into your tender hole. You stroke at the base of him and feel another shudder work its way through his body before you move your hand back to yourself, circling your own clit as he rocks his length into you.

"You gonna make yourself come on my cock?" he says, looking down where your hand strokes at your clit. You nod, lips brushing his, capturing him in another kiss as you moan, so close already.

"Good fuckin' girl. You rub that pretty pussy. She just fuckin' loves this dick." True.

His cock in your pussy, his hands in your hair, holding your body, your own hand strumming your clit with well practiced movements, the feeling of his lips on your own. It's all so much so quickly, everything you've been craving for so long, that the fire in your body burns so bright it explodes out of every pore before you can hold it off.

"F-fuck, Joeeel."

You come with a cry, every part of your body shuddering and convulsing, hand twitching over your own cunt as you desperately try to keep the high going as long as you can, until you're so sensitive all you can do is grip your own thigh, your nails creating half moons in the soft flesh.

"You're all mine, huh?" he says gently, still inside you now as he feels your walls pulse and twitch around him. You nod, floating from his kisses and your own high. "No one else gonna touch this pussy. S'all mine."

"S'yours."

"Needy, needy, pussy," he grunts into your mouth, as your cunt quivers around him, an aftershock pulled from you at just his words and the rasp of his coarse hair against your clit.

It hits you then, for all he called you needy you never actually asked for what you wanted, what you needed. You never took it either. Not until now. But he always did.

"I think you're just as needy as I am," you whisper.

He clicks his tongue and cocks his head. "I never said I wasn't, sweetheart."

A quick shuffle of his knees later he's pounding into you with abandon, your cunt had barely stopped throbbing by the time he started again.

"Ohhhh, god."

You don't move to kiss him again, he's chasing whatever high he needs now and you let him take it, back arching, moaning as he pounds away, cock slipping inside you with ease. The hand in your hair pulls harder, tugging your head back. You think this is going to be it, he's going to come inside you like this, but then wet kisses are being peppered across your neck and collar bone, his moans sounding more like those of a common whore than his usual grunts.

You want to come again already, so you grip him tight, hands roaming from your body to his arms, his shoulders. Your nails claw at him, pulling him closer and pushing him away, trying to tear him apart with your bare hands as he fucks you.

He moves quicker still, head buried in the crook of your neck as he holds onto you and slams home over and over. You think he's almost there - hope he is because how much more screaming can your voice take before it breaks - when he's yanking your hair again. His mouth latches to your own in a sloppy kiss, tongue fighting with yours and his cock squelching into the wet heat of your pussy as he comes undone, groaning into your mouth, shuddering, fucking ropes of thick cum into your empty cunt and never stilling for a second.

His hips stop bucking against yours before his mouth does. He kisses you softer, groaning, slowing down to catch his breath before he finally removes his lips from yours with a shuddering gasp, screwing his eyes shut.

Cum practically gushes out of you when he pulls out, and you expect him to get up and leave like he has every time before. He doesn't. Instead, he rests his head next to yours, kissing your shoulder, the warmth of his body encasing yours.

Your face finds his, nudging against his jaw. He shifts, letting you in, and your mouth finds his again. You kiss him until you turn to liquid, sighing deeply and tracing soft patterns on his skin and your own with your fingertips.

Eventually, he releases your hair, and you think the moment is truly over. But then he rolls over, flopping down next to you, the weight of him dipping the mattress and making you shift closer to his side. He closes his eyes, putting an arm behind his head, and you take the chance to look down at his naked body, his cock now soft between his legs.

The feeling that bubbles up through you rips out of your mouth in a laugh. Joel's eyes fly open, finding yours, making you laugh harder. Tears are falling from your eyes - the absurdity of it all too much to bear. So angry at him, at yourself, for weeks now. Wanting something for so long, something that it turns out you could have just reached out and grabbed. Driving yourself near mad over wanting to be touched in a way you thought he never would, when maybe all along he thought you never wanted it. You're left with nothing but small giggles and an aching belly by the time the feeling bubbles out of you completely.

You wonder how all of this must look to him. How small and naive you must look, just a silly girl giggling in his bed. If he thinks it, he doesn't voice it. He just shakes his head softly and raises an eyebrow at you, as if to ask if you're done.

You lie next to each other in silence after that. He doesn't tell you to leave, and you don't move to either. You just lie there, arms barely touching, sweat drying and cooling both of your bodies.

You'd always been okay with silence, more often than not finding yourself with nothing to say, especially these days. But something in this moment tells you to speak, and so you do, filling the silence with your own voice before the opportunity can be taken from you.

"Thanks for helping me out there," you start softly. "I know you said you wouldn't, and I'm not trying to prove a point I just... Thank you. I was looking at you. I couldn't help it. I've been... angry. At you, yeah, but mostly myself. So I was looking, but I didn't realize it was that much, I swear and I -"

"S'okay," he stops your ramble so simply and quickly you frown, an involuntary tut falls of your mouth. He casts a glance over to you, almost chastising as he continues. "Ain't lyin' when I say it though. You gotta stop lookin' at me. I really can't be lookin' out for you, just got lucky this time. There's assholes bigger than me out there."

"Doubt it," you scoff. He raises an eyebrow and runs his tongue along his teeth, daring you to say more. You don't.

You fiddle with the sheets between you, biting at your cheek and bottom lip, so much more to say but the words just ending up jumbled in your head.

"I wasn't lying either. When I said I want it. All of it." That's a start, you figure.

"You don't want me. I could be anyone."

"Maybe I don't. Never said I did. I just know that I want whatever this is," you gesture between the two of you. Whatever had started as a transaction was clearly more than that now. You enjoyed the feel of him, the way he touched you and talked to you. You enjoyed the escape of it all. It was nice to know another person in the world knew you were there, that you existed, cared about you in some way, even if it was only enough to make sure you came. "Sex was never really any good with anyone else anyway."

"I've got other people I have arrangements with. I've got Tess, I've got -"

"I know. That doesn't matter. I'm not asking you to change. I don't want anything to change. I just want..." you trail off, shrugging. "I just want this for me. I don't care what it is for you, as long as it's good too."

He looks at you, taking you in with curious eyes, working out if what you're saying is true. If really, in this moment here and now, you want this exactly as it is. "I can do that."

You think that he gets it, understands it all more than you could ever explain. The thought of that alone is more comforting than any touch he could give you. It could have been a sweet moment, if that's what you two were. But it's not, and still he ruins it anyway.

"Pussy really is no one else's but mine, huh?" There's an edge to his voice that tells you he's holding back a laugh, and you could fucking hit him.

This time, you do. You relish in the oof that leaves his body as your hand collides with the side of his chest. He catches your wrist before you can land another soft blow, your skin prickling in his firm grip. You know from the feel of his hand and the look in his eye that you'll fuck him again before you leave his apartment today.

It only takes a few minutes for you to prove yourself right. You climb on top of him all soft curves and bouncing tits, hair a mess, face scrunched and jaw relaxed as you ride him, kissing him as much as you've ever wanted. Even when your legs ache, when he starts fucking up into you with each bounce of your hips, you carry on, wanting to take from him again and have him fill you.

He never tells you to leave, but eventually you get up, putting your clothes on, tucking your torn t-shirt around you. You expect your dad will be wondering where you've got to soon.

Joel sits and watches you dress until you're stood fully clothed, looking at him lying nude on his bed, a total contrast to what happened in this room just a week ago.

You think for a moment, waiting as he gets up and walks with you back through his apartment. You take in the last few hours. The last week. The last few months of knowing Joel Miller.

"Joel?"

"Mm."

You look him up and down as you stand in front of his door, still naked as the day he was born. "You're a massive slut, you know that, right?"

He laughs. Full bellied, head back, laughs.

"Takes one to know one, sweetheart," he says with a smirk, winking as he unlatches the front door.

You kiss Joel again as you leave his apartment. He can't stop you now, and you don't think he would ever even try.

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scoonsalicious · 8 months ago

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Unwanted: Chapter 20, Uninhibited - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, alcohol consumption, drug use, dirty dancing, questionable choices.

Word Count: 3.1k

Previously On...: You're still throwing up :(

A/N: BRING ON THE BAD DECISIONS!

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Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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"How do I look?" you asked Wanda and Nat as you came out of your bathroom in your outfit for the party. When Tony had told you your party was going to be 90s themed, you'd been over the moon, since the last time you had a birthday party was probably actually in the 90s. Yes, you'd all gone out for drinks and dancing when you turned 21, and then for a fancy dinner when you turned 30, but it was the first time you'd actually given in to Tony's pleading to let him throw you an actual party, and he was pulling out all the stops, so you wanted to make sure you looked your best. And if looking your best happened to stick it to a certain super soldier, well, that was just a bonus.

"Oh my God," said Nat at the same time Wanda whispered "Holy shit." You were wearing a black leather mini skirt with thigh-high boots and a navy and silver handkerchief top that barely covered your tits. You'd curled your long hair into loose, beachy waves and Nat had done your makeup.

"You look like a fucking seductress," Nat nodded in appreciation.

"Barnes is not going to know what hit him," Wanda concurred.

"If Barnes knows what's good for him," you replied, putting in a pair of large silver hoop earrings and checking out how they looked in the mirror, "he won't even show up tonight. Besides, I only have two goals for the evening: Celebrating my birthday with my best friends and; Getting over one man by getting under another one."

"Amen to that!" Nat cheered, raising a glass of pre-game champagne Tony had delivered to your suite. "Tonight, you flirt with anything that has a penis." Catching Wanda's pointed expression, she added "Anything that has a penis that is not already committed to another vagina." Wanda smiled appreciatively.

"Please, Natty" you said, grabbing your own glass of champagne and toasting with her, "tonight, I'm flirting with anything that has a pulse."

"That's my girl!" Nat wrapped an arm around you and squeezed. You would have fun tonight, Bucky Barnes be damned.

You could hear the thumping of the bass long before you reached the doors of the banquet hall. The party was already in full swing. Before you entered, though, Nat grabbed onto your elbow and palmed something into your hand.

"Happy Birthday, Pocket," she said with a wink, before letting you go and allowing you to open your palm. Nestled inside was a small, white pill.

"Nat!" hissed Wanda as loudly as she could to be heard over the bass, "did you just hand Pocket drugs?!"

"Relax, Wanda," Nat said, rubbing the other girl's arm. Turning to you, she added "It's just some molly. Take it if Barnes shows up and you need to manufacture yourself a bit more fun, that's all." And she threw you a wink. "Just don't tell Mom and Dad."

"Thanks, Natty, but, if anything," you said with a smile, putting the little pill in your pocket in case you needed it later, "Tony'll be pissed you didn't bring enough for the whole class." You hoped you weren't going to need it, but it was rather comforting having it on hand. You hadn't done MDMA in years, and the idea of taking it again was thrilling.

"Fine," said Wanda, and you could both tell she wasn't thrilled with your actions. "Let's just go inside and have a good time, okay?" The three of you linked arms and made your way through the doors to the banquet hall.

It had been positively transformed. Usually, it was the place where Tony held his fancy dinners for visiting heads of state who wanted a look at what the Avengers did all day, tonight it had become a rave out of a fairy tale. There were bubble machines sending cascades of multi-colored bubbles through the air, everyone dancing with glow-sticks, and a DJ booth hung suspended from the ceiling. Tony had brought in what you suspected were real trees and had decked them out with twinkling fairy lights; there was even a fountain in the middle of the dance floor. It was something straight out of your dreams.

The room was crawling with hundreds of people. Most of them you vaguely recognized as people who worked in various positions in the Tower, some old colleagues from Stark Industries, and friends from outside of work, but scattered throughout were the members of your family. You spotted Clint and Laura dancing together in a corner of the dance floor while Nirvana's About a Girl blared, Sam flirting with three different women at the same time, and Thor over by the bar with Steve, a bottle of Asgardian liquor being passed around between them. Maria Hill was sitting in a lounge chair talking with Helen Cho and Vision. You were pleased to see neither Bucky nor Jade in your initial sweep of the room. With any luck, they wouldn’t have the balls to show their faces.

"This is incredible," you murmured, though you were sure neither of your friends heard you over the roar of the music. No one had noticed you'd arrived just yet, so you took the moment of anonymity to just soak it all in. Tony and Pepper had done all of this for you. You couldn't think about it for too long, or you would start to cry right there. They weren't connected to you by blood, but they loved you better than your real family ever had, and you were struck with an overwhelming surge of gratitude and appreciation for them both.

"Oh no!" Nat shouted over to Wanda. "She's getting misty-eyed! We need to get her a drink, STAT!"

You laughed as your two best friends dragged you to the bar. As you entered the throng, people began converging on you, wishing you a Happy Birthday and giving you more hugs than you'd probably ever received in your entire life. It was impossible to not feel the absolute love that came from everyone around you. You nearly toppled over when Wanda pointed out the giant table of presents that sat, waiting for you, in the far corner of the room. Never in your entire life had you felt so appreciated, and coming on the heels of how Bucky had discarded you, you felt your heart soar with love for all of these amazing people.

At the bar, you caught the attention of Thor and Steve, the latter doing a double take at the sight of you. Thor immediately enveloped you in a bear hug, his massive arms dwarfing your body as he picked you up.

"Happy Birthday, my Lady Pocket," he bellowed, planting a loud, sloppy kiss on your cheek. "I would offer you some of my Asgardian mead in celebration, but I fear it would be far too potent for your tiny human body to handle. I would not want to be responsible for your death on this day we celebrate your life."

"Thanks, Thor," you said as he finally put you back down, "I'm fine with good old Earth alcohol tonight."

The bartender handed you a frozen drink without your asking. "It's tonight's signature cocktail," he responded to your confused expression. "The Plum Pocket." Your face soured. The Plum Pocket was a drink you'd invented for Bucky months and months ago. Half of a plum because he loved the taste of them so much, strawberries, (because you loved them), raspberry liquor, lemon syrup, vodka, and a bit of sugar blended with ice into an almost smoothie-like consistency, with some lemon zest for garnish. How would Tony even know about them?

No, you were not going to think about Bucky Barnes tonight. You were going to enjoy your drink, dance, and get your flirt on. In that order. There was no room on tonight's agenda for wallowing in self pity over someone who didn't give a shit about you enough to keep his dick in his pants.

You took a sip. It was damned delicious.

"Hey," a soft voice spoke to you over your shoulder. You turned and looked up into Steve's face. His eyes were slightly glassy.

"Enjoying that Asgardian mead, Cap?" you asked with a teasing grin.

He smiled, a flush creeping up his cheeks at being called out. "Happy Birthday, Pocket. I um... I wanted to tell you, you look really pretty tonight."

The compliment took you aback. You didn't think Steve had ever complimented you on your looks before. He must be far more drunk than you first thought. "Thanks, Steve," you responded with a smile. "I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad you're here," he murmured.

Before you could say anything else to him, there was a drop in the music, and a spotlight lit up Tony Stark in the DJ booth, dressed in his full Iron Man glory.

"Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests, and the handful of people who accidentally wandered in from the fury convention," Tony began, his amplified voice carrying over the crowd, "welcome to the party of the century! I want to thank all of you for coming here tonight to celebrate someone very special to me, to all of us. She's like the kid sister I never wanted, in that now that I've got her, I couldn't get rid of her even if I tried." The crowd laughed and you hid your face in your hands. "Fortunately, I like having her around too much. She's got a brilliant mind, she's funny as hell, and she's the beating heart of this team. Without her, the Avengers would just be a group of coworkers, and not a family. And let's be honest, she's one of the few people who's willing to tolerate me on a daily basis." Somehow, his eyes were able to find yours in the crowd and he gave you a classic Tony wink; you blew him a kiss back. "So, everyone, please raise a glass to (Y/N) (Y/L/N), or as we like to call her, our own little Pocket! Pocket, Happy Birthday, kiddo! We love you! So, everyone, grab a drink, don't hold back on the dance floor, because, let's face it, I spent a fortune on hiring the best DJ in New York City, and let's make some bad decisions! Except for you, Parker. Jesus is watching."

Through the crowd you could just make out Peter's soft voice saying "Aw, come on Mr. Stark," and you broke into laughter. God, you loved these people.

"Let's go," said Nat, grabbing you by the arm and hauling you to the middle of the dance floor, "it's time to dance!"

The beats were dirty and your body responded to them like a siren's call, your hips moving subconsciously to the rhythm. Dancing was one of your favorite ways to lose yourself, and so you did, melting into the sound, letting your body take you wherever it needed to go. You felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, and you instinctively knew it was Natasha behind you.

"Bruce not coming out to the floor?" you whisper-shouted into her ear as she moved her body against yours.

"No, he's being a dullard," Nat responded with a sigh.

"Give him time," you told her knowingly. "Once he's been watching you move your ass out here long enough, he'll cave just so he can get his hands on you. He always does."

"I know," she said, grinding her chest against your back, "but I do love giving him a show."

You laughed and continued dancing with your friend. You knew Bruce would come to her eventually. The poor man couldn't stay away, no matter how hard he'd tried in the beginning.

Slowly, the members of your little family found their way to you on the dance floor, and you were all dancing together in a group. Even Bruce had gotten over himself and had finally joined Natasha, who was now running her hands along his chest.

You had to admit, you were having the time of your life.

But then you saw them.

Bucky stood at the bar, Jade not far away. You tried to ignore him, you really did, but his eyes were boring a hole straight through you, and he looked amazing. He was wearing a pair of tight black jeans and the shirt you had gotten him last Christmas, the one that matched the color of his eyes. He'd cut his hair again, just the length you liked it-- the perfect length for pulling while he had his face buried between your-- No. You were NOT going to think about that.

Wanda had moved away from where she'd been dancing with Vision and came over to you, following the line of your eyes. "He has a lot of fucking nerve showing up here with her," she spat. "Do you want me to kick them out of here for you, love?"

You turned and wrapped your arms around her, smiling at her fierce protectiveness of you. "As much as I would love to see it, Wan, it's okay. I think I just want to pretend he doesn't exist and keep dancing. The last thing I need is them ruining my party by bringing more drama into my life."

Wanda put a hand on your elbow and shrugged, then leaned in to whisper "Suit yourself, but my offer still stands if you change your mind," before heading back over to Vision. You sighed, disappointed that the sight of him had dulled your excitement for the evening. But then you remembered Nat's gift.

Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out the tiny pill. You considered your options for half a second before tossing it into your mouth and swallowing it. You were not going to let Bucky Fucking Barnes ruin your birthday.

A couple of hours later, after an enormous cake had been brought out, everyone singing to you and you blowing out your candles, you were feeling positively euphoric. Everything felt amazing. You were so in love with every single person in the room, you could cry. Your limbs were buzzing, as if the music was vibrating through them and your entire body was being poured full of liquid joy. You were connected to everyone. They were all a part of you, and you were a part of them.

You moved to the music, your hands caressing up and down your body, the sensation of touch almost overpowering in its intensity. You practically moaned when Natasha leaned over and whispered in your ear:

"Don't look now, but Steve's been staring at you for the last twenty minutes." You glanced over and noticed the super soldier standing at the bar next to Bucky, but in the clarity of the MDMA, Steve was all you could see. He was watching you intently, his eyes locked on the movement of your hips. You watched him lick his lips as your hands brushed across your chest, sending a wave of shivering pleasure through your body.

You didn't know why, but suddenly, it seemed like a really, really good idea to have Steve come dance with you, so you caught his eye and beckoned him over with a curl of your finger.

You laughed when you saw his eyes grow wide with surprise. He pointed at himself, as if he couldn't believe you were beckoning to him. You nodded and, chugging the rest of his drink before leaving the empty glass on the bar, he made his way to you.

"Hi," he said over the sound of the music when he was standing in front of you. God, he was so much taller than you were. Like a giant. Sublime's Badfish began to play.

"Hi," you hummed, the feelings of ecstasy pulsating through you. "Do you want to dance with me?" You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard.

"Very much," he said, so softly that you wouldn't have been able to make it out if you hadn't read his lips. "But I don't really know how to dance to this music."

"I can teach you," you smiled up at him. Turning around, you put your back to his chest. Grabbing his left arm, you wrapped it across your bare stomach, splaying his fingers across your scorching skin. You put his right hand on your hip and let out a soft moan when he squeezed your flesh.

"Just move with me," you whispered, knowing that his enhanced hearing would catch your words through all the extra noise. Your entire body was pressed against his now, and the feeling of his hard muscles against you was sensational. You never wanted him to stop touching you. You slowly started grinding your hips against him, laughing a little when you heard him gasp. He began sliding his hand across your stomach, once or twice brushing the underside of your breasts with his thumb. Each touch was like a wave of light pulsating through you and you craved it. You could feel the length of his semi-hard erection pressing into your back, and somewhere in the far recesses of your mind, the idea of it surprised and concerned you, but in your current state, all you could do was feel. And you felt so. god. damned. good.

You leaned your head back against his chest, reaching back to grab a hold of his bicep and exposing the curve of your neck, and when he reached down and began planting small butterfly kisses where your neck met your shoulder, you thought you were going to come undone right there.

"You're so beautiful, Pocket," he whispered before taking your earlobe between his teeth and nibbling on it. Everything he did, everywhere your bodies connected, felt like pure magic.

You noticed the looks that you were getting from Nat, Wanda, and the others, but you didn't register them. The only thing that mattered right now was how good you felt, how good Steve was making you feel.

You weren't sure how much time went by. The songs changed, your tempo fluctuated, the people around you came and went, but the contact remained the same.

Finally, you turned yourself around in his arms, pressing your chest to his. He looked down at you, the blue of his eyes a mere ring around the black of his pupils.

"Stevie," you whispered, your voice husky, "will you take me back to my room?"

His lips curled up in a wicked grin and for the briefest of moments, you saw Bucky in your mind's eye, but you quickly shook the image away. Steve took you by the hand and, without another word, led you away from the party to the solitude of your bedroom.

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

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ladykailitha · 9 months ago

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The Harrington Pattern Part 9

As you guys wanted, here's me doubling up on posting days. It will (hopefully) be twelve hours apart so that each chapter can get some love.

In this chapter we have a lot of flirting between Eddie and Steve. The Party being "meh" *shrugs shoulders* at Steve being bi. And Robin being the most soulmate a guy could ask for.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

MY TAG LIST FOR THIS STORY IS CLOSED!!!!

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

That night they were all gathered to watch the amateur theatrical society put on Much Ado About Nothing.

Even the ones who had been reluctant to join in were doubled over in laughter at the trick the Prince pulled on Beatrice and Benedict. The way they cried when Hero was accused of cheated on Claudio. And cheered when it was resolved happily ever after.

Mike complained about it all the way to the car. “We were forced to read this play in eighth grade and I hated it. I never knew it was funny.”

Eddie put his arm around his shoulder. “That is the unfortunate side effect of the education system. They suck the joy out of all of everything.”

“Normally I’m rolling my eyes at Eddie’s rants,” Robin said, “but I’m going to have to agree with him on this one. They just want sanitized versions of everything.”

Steve nodded. “Like what’s with the jump in American history when we stop in eighth grade at the Civil War and then all the way to WWII in eleventh grade, with only a brief mention of WWI as it related to WWII. Are they really trying to tell us that nothing happened in those eighty years of note? Like the fuck?”

Mike blinked at him. “Holy shit, I never even realized.”

The kids looked around at each other in shock.

“They push math and science,” Eddie continued, “but shit on everything else, except sports.”

He winced when realized what he had said. He looked over at Steve with an apology on his lips, but Steve was nodding.

“And they have to be the right sports, too,” Steve agreed. “Wrestling, swimming, soccer...anything outside the big three baseball, football, or basketball. Trust me, I got a lot of flack on being on the swim team. It was ‘gay’.”

“What?” Will squawked. “Why?”

Eddie licked his lips. “Little, teeny, tiny uniforms.” He emphasized the point holding his fingers not that far apart.

Dustin snorted. “Can’t be any worse than the basketball shorts.”

Steve looked upwards as he chewed on the bottom of his lip.

Dustin’s eyes bulged out of his head. “How much worse are we talking about here?”

“Speedo.”

Lucas frowned. “What the fuck is a Speedo?”

Eddie was practically vibrating in his skin. “Can I tell them, Stevie? Can I please?”

Steve let out a little sigh. The sigh the Party lovingly called his mom sigh. It was the sound he made when he knew no mater what he did it was going to end badly for him, so he just...let it happen.

He waved at Eddie to go ahead.

“Instead of swim trunks, that have a leg on them,” Eddie crowed, “Speedos are swim underpants. They cover the junk, the ass, and that’s it.”

“And you deliberately wore these things?” Max asked in interest. More interest than Lucas or any of the guys were comfortable with.

“I’m good at it,” Steve said, blush creeping up his ears and down his throat from the stain on his cheeks. “The uniform wasn’t as bad Eddie’s making it out to be.”

Gareth snorted. “Nope, they really are that bad. There was a period of time where–”

Eddie slammed his hand over Gareth’s mouth. “There’s no need to tell them about that, Gare.”

Steve looked over at Brian.

“Your senior year Eddie forced all of Hellfire to watch your meets.”

“Bri!” Eddie protested.

Steve looked over at Eddie and raised an eyebrow. “You like the...what was you it called it,” he said tapping his finger on his lips, “the ‘little, teeny, tiny’ uniform, Eds?”

Eddie threw his arms in the air. “I am but a gay man in a small town, so sue me!”

“I always preferred the lifeguard uniforms at the community pool,” Steve said. “Less wedgies.”

“Babe,” Eddie scoffed, “those shorts and tank left very little to the imagination. At least with the Speedo you knew what you were getting. With the lifeguard uniform it was all fantasy.”

Steve laughed. “I bet you were the kind who faked drowning to get CPR from their favorite lifeguard.”

“I can honestly say, I’ve never done that.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked all smiles. “Can you prove that?”

Eddie got up close to him and whispered, “Yeah, darlin’. I think I would have remembered you rescuing me before the Upside Down.” He winked at him and sauntered off. The rest of the band hastily said their goodbyes and hurried after their ride home.

Steve’s face was as red as his old life guard uniform. “Right. Let’s get home, yeah?”

Dustin eye’s narrowed at him for a moment. “Steve Harrington, are you crushing on my DM?”

The remaining eight looked at Dustin in shock.

“Dude!” Will hissed. “You can’t just ask that in public! What if someone overheard you?”

Dustin looked around and waved his hand around him. “There is literally no one here. I wouldn’t do that if I didn’t think it was a safe time to ask. But I’m going home with my mom as soon as she gets here and I will not be stymied.”

Steve ducked his head. “And if I did like boys, that would be okay with everyone?”

Everyone just looked around at each other and there was this collective shrug.

“Do you still like girls?” Max asked, genuinely curious.

Steve nodded shyly.

Lucas frowned. “You can like both?”

“Like David Bowie!” El said with her serene smile. “He likes both. Freddie Mercury from Queen, too.”

Steve snapped his fingers. “Exactly like that, El!”

Her smile grew.

“It’s okay if you like Eddie that way,” Mike said softly.

All the heads snapped to look at him.

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, okay. I have a lot to work on regarding the whole Lucas thing, but I’m not a complete ass.”

“Thank you,” El said and kissed his cheek. “You just have a lot growing up to do. We all do. We just need to give each other the chances to do so safely. Or at least that’s what Joyce keeps telling me.”

Steve gave her a hug. “Thanks, Supergirl.”

He looked out at all his friends. The people who were more his family then his own parents.

“I might have a small...” he raised his finger and thumb, “crush on a certain metalhead DM who recently joined the Party in March...”

Robin scoffed. “And by little he means huge!” She spread out her arms all the way out.

Dustin’s head snapped around to Steve. “If you two get together, he better treat you right. You deserve it.”

Steve blinked. Considering how Dustin had worded his original question, he had been sure that Dustin was going to him not to break Eddie’s heart.

He gave Dustin a hug and kissed the top of his head.

He really shouldn’t have doubted this kid.

Just then, Claudia pulled up in her station wagon and Dustin, El, Will and Mike all piled in after saying their goodbyes.

“He totally has the hots for you, by the way,” Max said dryly.

Steve blinked at her for a moment. “How do you know that? Does he spend all his days learning alt rock on his guitar or something for me?”

Max just blinked at him. “Huh. You aren’t as stupid as I thought.” And then she just started walking toward the car.

Steve scratched his cheek thoughtfully. “So to make sure I got this right, Max is saying Eddie has the hots for me because he’s been learning my favorite songs for me on his guitar?”

“That’s what it sounded like to me, man,” Lucas said with a half shrug.

“I’m with Lucas on this one,” Robin agreed. “So maybe you should do what I’ve been suggesting for the last three weeks and you know ASK HIM OUT!”

Lucas giggled.

“Shush you,” Steve admonished. “Get to the car.” He pointed at Robin. “You are spending the night with me to help plan out something cool.”

Robin saluted and Lucas just rolled his eyes and they all walked to the car to end another great night at the fair.

****

“Let’s play to your strengths,” Robin said, sitting cross-legged on Steve’s bed.

“Sports, sewing, and history,” Steve said, ticking them off on his fingers. “Fat lot of good that’s going to do me. It’s not as though I can whip out something overnight as a token of my affection.”

She rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t have to be something fancy. You could do something small. Like maybe use that fancy red thread you got at the weavers yesterday.”

He blushed. “I wouldn’t know where to start. Everything I know how to make is either winter stuff or something he’d never use.”

“He uses that handkerchief all the time,” Robin pointed out. “You could do something like that.”

Steve flopped dramatically on his back. “Not if he knew it was made from that fancy thread I got. He’d want to protect it.”

Robin had to give him that one. Because that would be an Eddie thing to do. And while the sentiment was sweet it would make Steve sad that he never used it.

Suddenly Steve sat up. “Oh!”

She blinked at him. “What’s ‘oh’?”

“He was telling me just last week,” he explained, “that the bag he used to hold all his dice for their game got a hole in it and it kept spilling the dice all over the inside of his backpack!”

Robin grinned. “Let’s pick out the best material to match that pretty thread.”

Steve nodded. “I just have to make a quick phone call to find out how big the bag should be and I can have this done in no time at all.”

He called Dustin and told him his idea. Dustin was ecstatic and told him everything he needed to know.

Robin and Steve then dug into his material stores and picked out a nice black felt and a satin red lining to make doubly sure Eddie wouldn’t lose the dice down the gaping maw that was his backpack.

He then showed Robin how to make patterns and cut them. Then he got to work.

Even with how easily Robin got bored, she watched the whole time with fascination. How he embroidered his pattern into what would be the front of the bag. How quickly and evenly Steve stitched the pieces of cloth together. He explained the process every step of the way and her eyes just lit up.

He turned the bag right side out and fitted it with silver draw string. He pulled it taut and held it up to Robin to see.

She reached out and gently took it from him. “That’s so cool. You do a bunch of these at work and send them to Katie as way to gauge reactions to your work, while you make bigger pieces.”

Steve licked his lips. “You really think these would sell?”

“And I think Eddie would be pleased as punch that he got the first official Harrington Pattern design.”

Steve took it back from her and smiled. “That would make it even more special, wouldn’t it?”

Robin grinned. “Yes, yes it would.”

He threw his arms around her. “You’re the best soulmate anyone could possibly ask for.”

She blushed but held him tight. “You too, Stevie.”

When Steve finally pulled back he tapped his finger on his lips. “Now what to make you.”

Robin squealed. “But you already made something awesome. The pirate costume was amazing, you don’t have to do more just because you made Eddie something.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, but I just tailored the clothes. I didn’t make them. I want to make you something.”

She scoffed. “Like the only thing I need are gloves for marching band. Since I have to have hand-me-downs, they are either too tight or way too big.”

His eyes lit up. “I’ve never made gloves before. That would be fun and interesting to try.”

“How would you even measure something like that?” Robin asked, a small amount of hope creeping into her voice.

Steve grinned. “Do you remember those ugly ass hand turkeys they made us draw in elementary school?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Just. Like. That.”

Her eyes went wide. “Wait are you serious?”

Steve just grinned.

****

Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

I'm not 100% sure my history experience in school is universal in the US, but in order to bridge the gap you actually had to an elective history class called Twentieth Century. Like it was straight up bullshit. And before you ask, you can bet your ass I took that class. It was taught by my favorite teacher. Of course I took that class.

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#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #steve is a history nerd

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elliesbelle · 1 year ago

Note

hiii love idk if you’re taking requests but if you are, would you be able to do something elliexreader based off of the song wish you were sober or heather by conan gray <3

while i die

chapter 1

pairing: best friend!ellie x reader

synopsis: only if ellie knew how much you loved her. but she likes someone better.

content warnings: modern au, cursing, angst, unrequited love, no comfort

word count: 4.3k

chapters: 1) while i die, 2) rained on with you, 3) eviscerated

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the heartbreak trilogy spotify playlist

based on the conan gray song "heather"

a lot of y’all have asked for a part 2 to this one-shot, so i made a promise that if y’all get my friend’s band “equal creatures” to 350 followers on spotify, you will get a part 2 ♥︎

You roll over in bed towards your nightstand after a restless night of sleep. The first thing you reach for is your phone, which had been blaring for a while to wake you for work. You hit the seductive “snooze” button, not having any actual intentions to fall back asleep but knowing that you’ll stay lying in bed for two more hours if you’re not reminded to get up every eight minutes a few times.

Unlocking your phone, you check your messages first. Two texts: one from your best friend Beth and another from your close coworker Lina. As you read their respective messages, you feel a black hole beginning to open up in your stomach.

She still hasn’t texted me back…

After responding blandly to your friends, you reluctantly open up Instagram and scan the stories of the people you follow. You ignore all that of your friends and instead tap on the one with the picture of a face you’ve memorized like the back of your hand. When it opens, your stomach lurches and your eyes go glassy.

The first story was posted the night before and is of a tattooed hand holding a bouquet of flowers with a caption that reads, “her faves.” You notice that the flowers are pink camellias. Her new girlfriend’s favourite flowers. Your favourite flowers.

The next story was that of two hands woven together with a caption that read, “she loved the flowers” right next to them with several heart emojis. One of the interlaced hands was adorned with several silver rings, one of which you recognized very well. You were the one who picked it out and gifted it to her.

“Dude, what! This looks fucking amazing!” Ellie cried out.

In her hands, she held a small, velvet blue box with a silver ribbon falling around it, unwrapped. Inside the box, safely cushioned, was a shiny, silver ring.

“Wait, wait, wait,” You said, excitedly. “Check this out.”

You picked the ring up from the box, lifting it up to her eye level. Delicately, you twisted what looked like a tiny hinge on the side to reveal that the ring actually contained multiple bands. The outer, exposed brim was decorated with ornate spirals. The next one had Latin engravings that you vaguely recognized as astronomical terms. The innermost hoops were inscribed with the symbols of the Western zodiac. You twisted the hinge back the other way to once more conceal the inner bands and give it the appearance of a singular ring again.

“Holy fucking shit!” Ellie cussed loudly, dropping the box to clutch at your hands still holding the ring. “How the fuck?!”

She snatched the ring out of your fingers, twisting the ring open and closed over and over. You giggled at her childlike enthusiasm.

“So… You like it?” You asked, chuckling.

“Fuck, yeah! Of course I love it!” She exclaimed. “It looks like a fucking armillary sphere!”

“I genuinely have no idea what that is or what that means,” You admitted truthfully. “But as long as it makes you happy—”

“Dude, of course it does!” She said excitedly. “You are the greatest best friend ever. Oh man, I’m never taking this shit off.”

Ellie tried it out on several fingers and found that it fit best on her left ring finger. You desperately pushed away any and all implications of the positioning.

“You really know me so well, man,” She sighed, admiring the ring on her hand. “You didn’t have to get this for me! It’s not even my birthday or anything!”

You shrugged nonchalantly, even if the intentions behind your generosity were anything but nonchalant.

“I just saw it and thought that you might like it.”

“Well, you were wrong because I love it.”

Ellie gave you a huge grin that ignited a wildfire in your stomach.

“Oh! It’s made of sterling silver too, none of that cheap shit. So it won’t leave you with those gross, green stains or anything.”

Ellie looked at you completely dumbfounded.

“I really don’t know what I did to deserve you in my life.”

You tap uneasily to view Ellie’s following story. The fingers holding your phone grow cold and begin to tremble as your eyes warily take in the face of Ellie’s new girlfriend.

She was incredibly beautiful, undeniably so. Her eyes sparkled, mirroring the gentleness of a clear, blue sky on a bright, sunny day. She had the face of an angel, the ones you’d see in Renaissance paintings: pure, gentle, exquisite. The genuine, trustworthy look on her face makes it impossible for any sane person to hate her.

Some part of you still did. But being desperately in love with your best friend meant you weren’t fully sane in the first place.

You realize that she’s wearing a familiar sweater: Ellie’s favourite grey, polyester hoodie. You of all people knew how incredibly attached to that sweater she was, almost like it was a safety blanket. You couldn’t blame her; it was soft, warm, comforting. She took better care of it than she usually did the rest of her clothes. And it always smelled like Ellie.

The caption for this picture was, “someone stole my favourite hoodie.” She’d tagged another Instagram account, sunny-heather, and it took everything in you not to click on it.

Ellie’s girlfriend posed shyly with a bashful smile, throwing up a peace sign. It appeared as if Ellie had caught her mid-giggle. She had a perfect manicure, straight white teeth, dimples on each side of her face. She looked so sweet, nauseatingly so.

She looked so beautiful wearing that sweater.

December had just begun and the weather was finally catching up with the season. After a mostly and uncommonly warm month of November, you hadn’t bothered wrapping up earlier that morning before leaving the house. It was to your detriment when around midday, you were hit with gusts of brisk air that brought goosebumps to your bare, uncovered arms.

Later that afternoon, you and Ellie visited your local Starbucks for both situational and liquid heat. Ellie had taken pity on your shivering form all day and lent you her hoodie, having already been wearing a warm, long-sleeved shirt underneath. You’d initially declined it, but when your body began to reach hypothermic levels, you quickly pulled it over your head and accepted its polyester warmth.

As you got in line to order, Ellie was teasing you for your poor choice of winter attire.

“This is why you check the weather before you leave your house, dummy.”

“It was 62 degrees over the weekend! I didn’t know it was going to be this cold all of a sudden!”

“Dude, it’s already the third of December. You should have expected it to get cold as shit at some point.”

“At some point! But not yet, I’m not ready!”

Ellie playfully rolled her eyes at your sheer stubbornness as the cashier called you forward. You both ordered large hot chocolates, neither of you a huge fan of coffee. You and Ellie played a brief dance of who was going to pay for your drinks. Ellie eventually and quickly won, as she usually did. You conceded and consented to be the one to leave some cash in the tip jar before you both scooted over to the side towards the pick-up counter. You bickered affectionately back and forth until your drinks were eventually placed in front of you.

You visited this particular Starbucks regularly, partly because of its convenience in distance to both your apartment and your job. But mostly, it was larger than a usual café and spacious enough for several quiet, peaceful corners for patrons to occupy. Ellie’s and your favourite spot was a table on the loft-like second floor where you could look down at other customers and make up stories or pass off harmless, though sometimes needless, judgment.

As you carefully sipped your hot chocolate, you and Ellie made your way upstairs to your usual, unoccupied table. You made yourself comfortable, sitting across from her. She rolled up her sleeves instinctively, showing off her arm tattoos, including the one of a moth perched on top of several ferns. Of all her tattoos, that one had always been your favourite.

“So are you planning on wearing my sweater all day or—?” She inquired.

“What do you mean ‘your’ sweater? This is mine now.” You proclaimed.

“Hey!” She protested. “Don’t you dare think of stealing my favourite hoodie!”

“It’s just so comfy!” You giggled. “And it’s so soft and cozy, and you know how much I love polyester.”

“Thief.” Ellie chuckled.

You made a show of burrowing into the hoodie in order to claim your clothed territory. Ellie laughed at your goofiness.

“See, this sweater was made just for me!” You insisted, returning to a regular position.

“I mean, I will admit that it does look better on you than it does on me.”

You blinked.

“Really?” You asked.

“For sure, dude,” Ellie insisted. “I just look like some boring, basic white dude when I wear it. But I don’t know, you kind of pull it off.”

“I pull off a plain, grey sweater?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, man! You just look cute in it!”

Your cheeks grew so warm that their heat rivaled that of your hot chocolate.

Before you could properly respond to Ellie’s casual, off-handed compliment, she spoke up once more.

“We should really come here more often.” She said.

“Oh, umm,” You began, still reeling from the moment. “Yeah, we should. We don’t go as often as we did back in high school.”

“Yeah, we really wasted our allowance on so many shitty, dry cake pops.” Ellie recalled. You laughed at the fond memory.

“Why the sudden interest though?” You asked curiously.

“I mean, this used to be our ritual, you know? Getting drinks and just hanging out here for hours.”

“You know, we do that everywhere else already, El.” You smiled, shaking your head.

“Okay, true, true,” Ellie relented. “Buuuut, did you happen to see the barista that took our orders earlier?”

Your eyebrows furrowed before looking down towards the ground floor and scanning the front counter. You weren’t quite sure which one of the several baristas had served you, not having paid much attention when you were putting your orders in.

“Uhh, I guess? I mean, not really.” You admitted. “Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?” Ellie playfully scoffed in surprise. “You didn’t see that she was hot as fuck?”

Your stomach dropped at her words.

“O-oh.” You murmured. “I guess I didn’t notice.”

“Come on, dude, you have eyes! She was gorgeous!”

You gulped as you felt your heart plummet towards the floor.

“Do you think I should ask for her number?” Ellie questioned, completely oblivious to your shift in demeanour as she tried to sneak a peek at the front counter below.

“Oh, umm, sure, I guess so.”

“I mean, I don’t wanna come off as a creep. Plus, she might not even be gay.”

Your fingertips grew colder and colder with each second that passed, despite the way you were grasping your warm cup tightly. You would have been more worried about your drink exploding in your hand if you were much more present in the moment.

“What am I talking about, she works here. Of course she’s gay.” Ellie chuckled at her own joke.

You could barely muster enough of your trembling voice to reply, settling for a seemingly agreeable hum.

“What do you think, dude?” Ellie asked, finally turning back towards you.

You feigned a smile, succeeding only in giving her a weak, partial one.

“Go ahead, El. Why not?”

Ellie’s last Instagram story was what sent a jagged knife through your heart.

It was a video this time: she had her arm wrapped around her girlfriend, who was still wearing her hoodie. Both wearing wide smiles, they were both snickering about something for a moment or two.

Then Ellie planted a kiss on her lips. And again. And again.

As the video ends with their lovey-dovey giggling, your lips let out an involuntary sob. You press your fists onto your eyes in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. Head throbbing and gut nauseated, your body trembles from the waves of anguish crashing down on you.

You stare at the ceiling and consider staying home from work. Nobody would benefit from being around your zombie-like presence. But feeling pathetic about missing work as a consequence to your broken heart, you chastise yourself for the mere thought of it.

You spend a few minutes composing yourself, pushing every emotion to the back of your brain as forcefully as you can. It seems to last for a lifetime, but you’re able to eventually soothe your tears and take several deep breaths.

Forcing your lifeless body out of bed, you begin your pre-work morning routine. The streaks on your cheeks from the unfaithful tears previously falling were scrubbed away when you washed your face. Tremoring fingers prepare your breakfast, which you end up mostly throwing out as a result of a queasy stomach. It feels completely futile to continue your day, but Ellie’s world continues to turn. Why shouldn’t yours?

You’re at work, spacing out as you’d been doing so often recently. Coworkers continue to ask throughout the day if you’re alright, but you merely smile every time and assure them that you’re just tired. That same smile fades once you turn away, a vacant expression taking its place once more.

Before you came to work, you made the resolve not to check your phone every twenty minutes to see if your previously unread texts were responded to. But as each hour passes, fighting the urge becomes more of a struggle.

On your lunch break, you relent and finally check your messages. You only have one unread text from your best friend Beth, checking on you. None from Ellie.

You begin to chew nervously on your lip before switching to your nails when your friend and coworker Lina finds you. She pulls up a chair to sit next to you before tugging your fingers away from your lips.

“I thought you stopped biting your nails,” She says, frowning. “You were doing so well.”

“Sorry, Li-Li,” You reply, gingerly pulling your hand back. “I just—”

“What happened now?” Lina asks knowingly.

“Nothing,” You sigh. “That’s literally it. Nothing. She hasn’t texted me or called me or anything. She hasn’t even read my messages or even seen my Instagram stories.”

“Babe…” Lina says sympathetically.

Your friends have been lovingly chastising you lately for obsessively checking if Ellie had viewed your Instagram or Snapchat stories. You’d unintentionally trained your eyes to scan through your stories’ viewers to spot Ellie’s picture and username. Whenever you wouldn’t spot a picture of the auburn-haired girl among the list, you’d fight the instinctive urge not to break down every time.

“You can’t be doing that anymore,” Lina continues. “You’re driving yourself crazy.”

“What am I supposed to do, Lina?” You ask desperately. “It’s the only thing I get from her nowadays, and it’s barely anything.”

“Exactly, it’s barely anything,” Lina repeats. “I know you love her, but…”

“I know, Li-Li.”

“She’s not even being a good friend right now. You deserve better than that.”

“I really don’t.”

“Stop that. Yes, you do.”

“I just want her, Li.”

“She’s obviously not good for you, honey.”

Your phone buzzes from your alarm alerting you that your break has ended. You stand up from your chair.

“I’ll talk to you later, Li-Li.”

You hadn’t replied to Ellie all day, ignoring her texts asking if you wanted to come over and hang out.

Ever since that day when Ellie asked out the girl from the coffee shop, she’d been spending immense amounts of her free time with her. The rest was spent with you, talking about her. Ellie hadn’t been much of a talker ever since you were both kids, but now she was endlessly babbling to you about her new girlfriend.

You’d learned that her name was Heather Sonnen. She was in her final year of college and was attending a university nearby. She was studying to become a veterinarian and had a golden retriever named Sunny. Her favourite colour is purple. She likes to go hiking and kayaking on the weekends when she’s not working. She was very good at kissing and even better in bed.

Every little detail you learned about her felt like yet another crack on your already broken heart. You spent many sleepless nights bawling alone in your bed, screaming and crying over a pathetic love you could never do anything about.

It felt so sick, so pitiful that a girl who would never kiss you or touch you or love you took up every corner of your mind. You knew you could never be pretty enough, never amount to Ellie’s idea of a dream girl. And this new beautiful, angelic girl she’d fallen for continued to prove that.

You would watch the way Ellie’s eyes lit up any time she spoke about her, the goofy grin on her face every time she said her name. You’d seen Ellie through several other relationships, each one treating your heart like a Hans Moretti box. But this time, her glow was brighter and her smiles were wider. You could tell just how far and how hard she’s fallen.

As you were laying on your bed, your phone buzzed as you received another text from Ellie. You ignored it and closed your eyes, having no desire to hear more about her perfect saint of a girlfriend. After several more minutes passed, your phone began buzzing in succession. You sighed, waited a few moments, and eventually relented to answer it.

“Hey, Els,” You greeted her. “Sorry, I was napping just now.”

“Oh, my bad, dude. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay.”

“Have you not seen my messages though? I’ve been texting you all day.” Ellie demanded.

“Oh, sorry, I just haven’t really been on my phone today.” You lied.

“Bullshit, man, you’re always on that thing.”

“It’s the truth, Els, I promise.” You lied once more.

After a second or two as Ellie considered your words, she responded.

“Alright, well, I was trying to see if you wanted to hang out today.”

You stopped yourself from audibly sighing.

“Sorry, I can’t today. Got a lot of shit to catch up on and take care of.”

“Come on, dude, blow it off. I haven’t seen you all week.”

“I really can’t, Els, not today.”

You heard Ellie exhale in frustration on the other end of the line.

“What’s been with you lately? We’ve barely hung out this month and you take forever to text or call me back nowadays.”

You began to chew the inside of your cheek.

“I’ve just… been going through a lot lately. That’s all.”

“What, and you can’t tell me about it?”

“N-not really.”

“Why not? I thought we’re best friends. And don’t say that Beth is your best friend; I 100% had you first.”

“We are, we are, but—“

“If something’s going on with you, I seriously wanna know.”

“It’s nothing important or specific. Just been struggling mentally and all. Not been having the best time.”

A moment or two passed where you held your 1breath, hoping she’d buy yet another lie.

“Okay. I’m sorry you’re going through that right now. Can I do anything for you?”

“No, it’s okay.” You replied, sighing in relief. “I’ll be okay.”

“Alright, well, if you change your mind, just let me know.”

“I will.” You said, knowing you never would. You couldn’t do that to her.

“I—“ You began nervously. “I’m really sorry about today, Els.”

“It’s okay, dude.”

“Maybe tomorrow, if you—“

“Ahh, can’t tomorrow, I have plans with my pretty girl.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Actually, I’ll text Heather in a bit and see if she can hang out right now so we can get a head start on our all-day date tomorrow. I planned out all this romantic ass shit to do.”

“Ahh.” You replied, voice constrained in pain. Ellie didn’t notice.

“Oh dude, I didn’t even tell you about this new strap I got for her—“

“Hey, Els,” You interrupted, not wishing to hear the rest of her sentence. “I think I hear someone at my door. I’ll call you back in a little bit, okay?”

“Oh, okay, that’s fine. I’ll be right here.”

“Right. Bye, Els.”

“Talk to you soon—“ She was saying as you quickly hung up the phone, unable to further control the sobs that had been threatening to emerge ever since Ellie had said her name.

You rolled to your side and hugged your legs to your chest, attempting to calm your hyperventilations. There was a ringing in your ears accompanied by Ellie’s words.

“…my pretty girl.”

“…planned out all this romantic ass shit…”

“…this new strap I got for her—“

You’d been trying desperately to be a good friend to Ellie for the past month, despite everything. You’d listened and planned and supported, all the things a best friend should do. But the more mesmerized Ellie grew, the more everything within you died.

You never bothered calling Ellie back that day.

The drive home from work was mundane and uneventful. An old song sung by Ray Charles about being in love with your best friend plays on the radio. The second bridge is cut off when you turn the key in the ignition and exit your car.

The steps you take to reach your apartment feel heavy, and it takes everything in you not to collapse where you are. You don’t even bother to take off your shoes when you cross the threshold into the dark entryway. The cushions of your living room couch wheeze sadly as you collapse into them.

You drop your work bag onto the floor next to you before turning on the TV. Eventually, you choose to put on some basic early 2000s sitcom as easy background noise. It’s something you’ve seen several times before and your mind doesn’t fully process what the plot is or who the characters are or what episode you’re on.

Your eyes gaze away from the television screen and to a blank space on one of the walls. There’s a spot where the wall’s off-white paint was accidentally streaked off the first week you moved in. Ellie had been helping you hang a picture up, and you were fooling around too much that the ladder you’d been using almost slid down and left a mark. You never bothered covering it up.

You stare at the mark as if it’d transport you back to that day, back to the mostly carefree moments when pining after your best friend was a mere minor inconvenience. But her love for another and ignorance of your struggle turned that inconvenience into an anguish you were not prepared for.

That day you fully accepted the feelings you had for Ellie, there was something within that knew instinctively that you could never have her. She was an impossible dream that the universe cruelly created to be untouchable. Deep inside, you knew a long time ago that your plain, boring friendship was just a placeholder for something bigger and more meaningful in her life. And she seems to have finally found that.

Blinking yourself out of your stupor, you eventually tear your eyes away from the wall. You take your phone out of a pants pocket and open up Instagram. Accepting the feelings of miserable self-pity, you once again scan your stories’ viewers for Ellie’s name. You finally spot it. You let out a sad sigh.

I guess she at least remembers I exist.

Orange and purple dance around Ellie’s profile picture before you tap on it. She’d posted a story from a local band she liked and another about a new video game release she was excited about. The last was a selfie of her posing in her bathroom mirror.

It was an inconsequential picture, just another Ellie thirst trap. She looked handsome in it as she always did. But something catches your eye, and you wish it didn’t.

On her left ring finger, she was wearing a silver ring. But it wasn’t one you recognized. It wasn’t the silver ring you’d gotten for her. The one she always wore on that finger.

Maybe the ring accidentally broke. Maybe it got dirty and she has yet to clean it. Maybe she just felt like switching it out for a day.

Each excuse you come up with seems more and more pathetic. You know there was no point in justifying it, no point in finding reason. You know that Ellie wasn’t overanalyzing it. Not like you are now.

Your heartbeats are heavy and you suppress the reflex to throw up. You open up your messages and tap on Ellie’s contact, knowing the most rational thing was to simply move on and continue being her friend. But what you find abruptly breaks your heavy heartbeats.

The text messages you had sent still remained unanswered. But there was a slight change.

She read my texts… five hours ago…

Ellie wasn’t always a big texter, always preferring old-school face-to-face interaction. But with you, she had always been the kind of friend to respond right away. Even if just to say she was busy and would respond when she was free, she never left you hanging.

Your jaw tenses and your vision momentarily becomes blurry. Your bottom lip trembles and you find that you can’t stop hastily bouncing your right knee. Tears form behind your eyes and your cheeks grow feverish, but you’re unable to process or feel anything except the movement in your hands.

Your shaky fingers lead you to Ellie’s contact in your phone without a second thought. You click “Edit” and delete every piece of information, from her picture to her birthday to her nickname. You save your changes and scroll downwards. You stop sharing your location with her before glancing at those conclusive three words in red right at the bottom.

Block this caller.

Without hesitation, you definitively tap the button.

author's notes:

this was very therapeutic. did this describe something i’ve been going through lately? no why would you think that what gave you that crazy impression ahahaha (shut up no i'm not thinking and pining over my ex, shut up!)

pink camellias because pink camellias represent longing lmaooo, i love symbolism and etc.

the ring reader gave ellie is based on a couple ring i gave to my my ex-girlfriend (the one i live with, not the one i’m in love with)! it’s super cool, i felt like it would be something ellie would wear!

is the part about reader obsessively checking if ellie has viewed their insta stories based on real life? no, why the fuck would you say that

the whole starbucks and hot chocolate thing is a little reference to something in my personal life but i refuse to elaborate further

me once again inserting myself in reader with them always saying they’re tired when someone asks if they’re okay cause news flash, i’m always tired 🙂

reader’s friends’ names beth and lina are inspired by my irl best friend and work bestie’s names :)

ellie’s gf’s last name is purposeful but i again refuse to elaborate further

the ray charles song mentioned is “you don’t know me” but my fave rendition is actually by jann arden from the “my best friend’s wedding” soundtrack (my family’s obsessed with the score of that movie, we had the tape and then the CD of it and played it nonstop growing up)

sorry this took forever to write cause LOL it may have been a little hard cause it was a little TOO autobiographical... hope y'all enjoy anyway lmao

taglist: @elliessknife, @mina-2812, @bellasfavepansexual, @slaysksmska, @theganymedes, @sno-leopards, @cosmikoo, @elliesnumber1gf, @eleactric, @thatgiraffefromtlou, @bellswlw, @kissesforells, @ratdungeon, @elliewilliams8fingers, @wex--12

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madelynraemunson · 1 year ago

Text

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!x reader)

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI | BOOK #2 (S.H.)

Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series (completed)

* loosely inspired by Sara Cate’s “Salacious Players Club” series

🔥 EXTRA CONTENT HERE 🔥

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014** , 015, 016** , 017, 018, 019, 020*

* = somewhat smutty chapters , ** = smut chapters

Summary: 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐓. After getting kicked out by your brother, you have no other choice but to take off your big girl pants and add stripper to your resume. Desperate to pay the bills and support your little sister, are you willing to accept the risks that come with such a perilous profession? With the stage name ‘Shy Girl’, you take the leap of faith, weaponizing your divine femininity to steal the hearts of all the bachelors in Hawkins — including Eddie Munson’s, the owner of Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club.

warnings & disclaimers — slow burn, eventual smut (a lot of it), voyeurism, mutual pining, sexual tension, jealousy, drug/alcohol, profanities, sexual harassment, domestic violence

Welcome to Hellfire.

theme song: meet you in hell by jade lemac “Look me in my eyes. I know that you’re scared. You see yourself and you cry for help. Look me in my eyes. Tell me it’s not fair. If you taught me well, I’ll meet you in hell.”

Chapter 001: Wolves

The Hargroves are cursed. Generationally, that is. One night Billy takes it too far, costing him the only thing he had left... his sisters.

TW — abuse, domestic violence, blood, profanities, implications of infidelity, death

word count: 8.5k words

author's note: there are four different acts to this introductory chapter :) so much foundation to lay down and i spent forever on this to craft it perfectly for you guys. thank you for being as excited about this fanfic as I am releasing it. i hope you all enjoy! -madelyn

tags: @changemunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n

_______________𓆩♡𓆪_______________

"Once I ran to you. Now I run from you."

♡

Duality of man. Mom was always a firm believer in that notion. In fact, she always used to say, "Inside of you, there are two wolves: a good one and a bad one. Depending on which mouth you feed, one will triumph the other.”

It became more evident when she died.

“YOU FUCKING SLUT. GRAB YOUR SHIT AND GO.”

Once identical in every aspect, the differences between you and your brother slowly began to unravel over time.

Being ‘good wolf’ was impossible while living under the same roof as Billy. So you settled for neutral wolf instead. Meanwhile, the big, bad wolf possessed him at age 15, when he realized hitting your father back would get him to back off.

It was 2010, post-homecoming game.

Dad nearly flung Billy into another dimension when he came home. The preferred alternative would have been attempting to reason with one another, but it just wasn’t something that was normalized in the Hargrove household. Communicating with words was a daunting task; but not nearly as daunting as accountability.

“I’M DONE WITH YOU, BILLY. GRAB YOUR SHIT AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE.”

“I’m a literal minor, you can’t do this, Dad!” Billy wailed. "PLEASE!"

Over a football game.

The Friday Night Lights were a staple of Vista Palms High School. That and all of its nacho-eating, pot-smoking, LMFAO-playing, neon-filled goodness.

"C’mon V-P, c’mon, let’s beat S-D!” For weeks Billy had been chanting that mantra. There was no clearer indication that it’s where he would be the night of the championship game. He didn’t communicate it, of course, but it was implied. But still, it didn’t cross Dad’s mind.

Any parent who thought their child was coming home on time — and sober — that night was a foolish one. Especially if their kid was a sophomore with senior status.

“You sure as hell don't act like one,” Dad spat. “Coming home, acting all grown." Little did Dad know Billy was there for community service. Billy was a good student. More than anything he wanted a full ride to a UC, mainly to get away from home. Either that or military. Maybe then, walking on eggshells and being accused of something he didn't do — like drinking and doing drugs — would be a seasonal occurence instead of daily. "ACTING LIKE YOU PAY THE BILLS. YOU DON'T. YOUR MOM AND I DO.”

Dad knew he hit a nerve. It was his signature move aside from alienating his victims to establish control. While the feeling of getting your wings clipped really did you in, reactive abuse was Billy's top trigger, especially when Mom was mentioned. After all, Billy was the one who found Her.

Through glassy eyes and gritted teeth, Billy closed up his fists before mustering up the courage to say, “I’m…not…calling Sue... the operative word.”

Dad snarled. “Like there’s anyone else physically here you’ve reserved that title for?”

Oh.

"This tainted love you've given-"

Billy took the bait, lunging forward to grab Dad. As if on cue, Dad winded up his arm, assuming his usual position. You managed to assert yourself between in hopes of stopping them. Suddenly the back of Dad's hand collided with your cheek, sprawling you onto the couch. Billy watched horrified while you fought to keep your eyes open, growing anxious when all you could hear was the room pulsating around you at the highest frequency you had ever heard in your 15 long years of life. Enough was enough.

One punch. Bridge of the nose. Game over. The control Dad had over you both had ceased.

Billy rushed to your aid while Dad took a few moments to gather himself. It was then his beat-in, throbbing eyes realized that the little boy he mercilessly pushed around was no longer there. His own little Frankenstein had taken his place.

"I gave you all a boy could give you"

"Oh my god, Sissy," Billy cried, crouching down to run a soothing hand through your hair. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," you sniff, wrapping a hand around his arm. "I'm fine, Billy. I promise."

"I'm not gonna let that son of a bitch hurt you ever again," he vowed. "I'm gonna fuck him up and anyone else who tries."

"I love you, Brother."

"I love you, Sissy." The magnitude of power that surged through Billy melted into every neuron in his body, the warmth of its adrenaline imitating a tender — long overdue — embrace. He became fully enveloped in what was like an electric current, its tide higher than any wave he's ever surfed. It became more exhilarating than cruising down the I-5 in his Camaro at 130 MPH, and more intoxicating than any keg of beer he's ever swigged at a Wanna-be Project X Party.

It was the rush Billy had been searching for his whole life.

Every high Billy ever pursued before that rapidly declined in value. He would trade in anything for the static that had encoded itself into him. He felt untouchable, a luxury your father couldn’t afford his wife and children.

"YOU PUT YOUR HANDS ON HER AGAIN, YOU'RE DEAD DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

From that day forward, feeling respected was a freedom Billy was not willing to sacrifice, ever.

"Take my tears and that's not nearly all-"

But now Billy is the abuser, something you never imagined happening given his innately soft personality.

"Oh, tainted love. Don't touch me! Please.”

Slapping. Biting. Choking each other out. Pulling each other’s hair. Calling each other names. Spitting. Throwing things. Who would’ve thought the Hargrove twins were capable of the same horrors as their parents?

Yesterday was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Billy’s voice, like nails on a chalkboard, clawed at your brain in agonizing intervals.

“That’s all Max is. A pathetic little liar.”

“She will do anything for any bit of attention…even whore herself out to all the men in Del Mar.”

“You can get out. And stay out. Since you wanna act so grown all the damn time.”

He became the very thing — or person rather — he sought to destroy. The very person who indirectly, but explicably killed your mother.

And deep down you feared that if you and your stepsister Max don’t get out of that house, you’d both suffer that same fate.

“It's fucking JULY and 90 degrees out!” your sister retaliated. “What do you want me to wear to the beach? Fucking sweats?"

Max was out with friends the night prior. They hosted a birthday bonfire for her at the beach. She broke curfew and got a ride home from a friend. A guy friend. Billy wasn’t having it.

Max always got the short end of the stick. She was an easy target for Billy’s antics. Being the literal carbon copy of the woman he hates the most didn’t make it any better, and neither did taking the bait whenever Billy dealt it to “keep the peace”. Max believes being and acting helpless would get Billy to back down. It was far from the truth. In reality, she was feeding him his supply.

And what a volatile supply it is.

Mom also had another saying: "Anger is just grief with nowhere to go".

So you watched Billy and Max go back and forth with their pickleball tournament-o-insults, shouting at one another to their lungs’ capacity, their dead, black pupils strangling each other mentally while they gathered the physical strength to do so as well. You kept an arm halfway up and torso slightly turned in case you needed to butt in.

“I do this because I love you, Maxine,” Billy insisted. “So just SHUT UP and stop being a little cunt. Okay?”

“You stop being a presumptuous asshole first,” Max fired back. “We’re fighting again — why? Because someone with a penis drove me home? And we broke curfew by 10 minutes? I don’t control traffi-”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he dismissed her. “Just say you wanted some dick and call it a night.”

Classic slut-shaming, as if Billy’s Instagram following wasn’t all models, strippers, and OnlyFans girls.

Before you could even process what was happening, the blurbs of their argument skidded to a halt when Max finally broke. Billy watched in subtle amusement as she screamed, her fist meeting the wall repeatedly out of frustration.

Reactive abuse is Billy’s favorite abuse tactic.

“Someone who’s not guilty wouldn’t react like this,” Billy quipped in a sing-song voice, eyeing the new hole in the dry wall that Max had created.

There was no sense in backtracking if Billy already got what he wanted. Max just needed the last word. Before any of you could process it, an acrylic storage box soared through the air, hitting Billy right in the groin. He roared in agony while Max attempted to collect herself off to the side. She still saw red.

That’s when the knife came out.

One slice to the brow and it was over. To ensure the last word was his to keep, Billy ended up chucking a knife at your sister.

“OHMYGOD!” Max shrieked repeatedly, entering the ‘freeze’ stage of her shock. “OHMYGOD, OHMYGOD, I’M BLEEDING! I’M BLEEDING, THERE’S BLOOD!”

It was then you realized, the little boy you vowed to protect and refused to leave behind was long gone. Dad’s essence had taken his place now.

“You just don’t know when to FUCKING STOP, do you?” you exclaimed, putting pressure on Max’s eyebrow with a washcloth as she wailed. Suddenly it was Dad you were talking to. They had the same apathetic, dead look in their eyes. “I don’t care who said or did what, throwing a fucking KNIFE?”

“Me?” Billy tutted. “You wanna call me crazy, who did that?” He was referring to the hole in the wall. “And who was the one to throw shit first? EXACTLY. EXACTLY.”

While Billy was technically correct, he would never admit to what he did to provoke you two.

“So you can both get out if you’d like. Be my fucking guests.”

You and Max exchanged one look. The look. It was time. You both were ready and now had the green light. Now was the chance to bolt without immediate consequences.

So you and your sister spent several minutes rummaging through your pre-packed belongings while Billy continued to shit-talk aimlessly around the rental you shared. The place soon reeked of cheap bud and gas station gin. Trash bags were soon filled with your favorite clothes and you shoved them into as many of your childhood suitcases as possible. Struggling to see past your tear-coated eyes, you reached for your books, the ones you've hollowed out 300 pages deep to pocket all the tips from your waitressing job, and shoved the loose bills into your crossbody. You’d sort through them later. Lastly, you popped the cap off the bottom of your salt lamp. There was a pre-paid Visa you bought several months beforehand waiting for you. With trembling hands, you grasped it and whispered a gratitude to the Universe before tucking it neatly into the back pocket of your Levi’s.

When it was all said and done and everything was loaded into your car, you focus on the hole in the dry wall one last time.

Never again.

Billy was complacent throughout the entirety of the event. You glared at him while he continued to soothe himself with drugs and alcohol, refusing to own up to the irreversible damage he caused your little family.

“SIS,” Max boomed from outside. “LET’S GO!”

A part of you used to pity Billy, but now his destructive behavior took away any ounce of guilt you felt for leaving him.

You never fought back until you had no other choice. Similarly, and tragically, Billy shared that very sentiment.

Who the villain is in the narrative relied solely on whose lens you are looking through.

It took you by surprise all the time. How could identical twins, who grew up in the same environment, end up so different from one another?

“I love you, though you hurt me so. Now I’m gonna pack my things and go." - Tainted Love by Soft Cell

There are two wolves inside of everyone.

——————————𓇼——————--------

"Are the pieces of you in the pieces of me? I'm just so scared you're who I'll be. When I erupt just like you do, they look at me like I look at you" - DNA by Lia Marie Johnson

The heart-wrenching ballad by Lia Marie Johnson dissolves as you crank the dial to the left. Music is always depressing when Max has the aux chord.

"Did you hear what I said?" you question her.

Max abruptly sits up and reorients herself, attempting to shrug off the trance “DNA” had put her in for a few minutes.

"No, sorry. What'd you say again?"

"Do you need a bathroom break?"

"I'll go at the airport.”

"Okay, but if you change your mind and decide to take a leak one last time, I'll be happy to oblige.”

Swami’s is also an exit away and you’re just fixing for a hot meal before takeoff. But you don’t directly say that. Besides, Max loses her appetite when she’s upset and may only have room for shitty airplane food.

“I’ll just eat on the plane.”

Stale pretzels and flat soda it is.

Despite the decrease in appetite, Max is holding up well. As well as anyone-who-was-nearly-stabbed-by-her-brother-and-is-now-moving-states-away-from-everything-she’s-ever-known-with-her-sister could be.

It wasn’t your first choice to leave California. In fact, you did everything you could to avoid it. But nonetheless, anyone with a conscious and only $4,000 to their name would make the wise decision to move away to somewhere more affordable.

Enter your online friend, Robin.

Working ungodly hours six days a week to pay the bills took up so much of your time that you had no friends in San Diego — albeit high school friends who would have never guessed how you and Billy turned out. Those friends had happy families anyway. They couldn’t hold space for you. Your online friend Robin, who you met on an art forum, however knew your family dynamic and was there for everything. But she lived in Indiana with her partner and was never able to offer you any physical comfort.

You entertained Robin’s idea of moving to where she lives, a small town in Indiana called Hawkins just 20 minutes southeast of the city. Living under the radar to get your ducks in a row seemed like such a perfect plan, but you didn’t want to do so at the expense of Max losing her only support system she had outside of you.

Moving would’ve also meant pulling her out of school, which wouldn’t be possible because Billy was her legal guardian. Now that she’s graduated high school, and today is her 18th birthday, the game has changed completely.

“Donovan texted me happy birthday,” Max reports, finally disclosing a fragment of her inner conscience. “Thought it was sweet.”

You can’t help but smile. "You thought he wouldn’t?”

She refrains from rolling her eyes and shifts them towards the rocky beach cliffs outside her window.

“You know,” you add. “I really think you two could make long distance work. I’ve never seen so much chemistry between two people before.”

Max scoffs. "Yeah right. Long distance with a guy going to Santa Barbara for college?” She fiddles with the strings of the knit poncho resting atop her lap. “I'd be breaking my own heart."

You bite your lip to stop the waterworks. Max doesn’t deserve any of this. She deserves to enjoy bonfires with her skater friends, surf all the tubular waves, and go on all the nature hikes without worrying about her stepbrother’s codependent-fits-of-rage waiting for her when she comes home. She deserves to eat fried funnel cake at the county fair and share a kiss with the boy of her dreams atop a Ferris wheel on the 4th of July. She deserves a San Diego summer, not a summer spent in hiding from her abuser in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.

Max decides to change the subject.

“So what’s Robin like? Your online friend.”

“She’s very sweet,” you breathe. “Been, uh, telling her about Billy for a long time now. Her arms have been open since day one.”

“And her girlfriend?”

“Vicky’s the best,” you insist. “A match made in heaven for sure. It’s like they’re the same person, just different font.”

You get a giggle out of Max. Her laughter during such a turbulent time is like music to your ears. The non-depressing kind.

“I’m really sorry I couldn’t get you a gift this year.”

She side eyes you.

“What are you talking about? You quite literally gave me the best gift of all.”

“Did I? What did I give you?”

“You gave me safety.”

And with that, you give yourself a mental pat on the back, confident you made the right choice despite how foreign everything currently felt. The conversation dies down while you and Max ride on, driving further and further away from the Park and Ride you spent the night at, off Coast Highway, and onto the I-5 one last time.

Boarding the plane is a swift process. Your plane is a two-seater, so Max gets the window and you get the aisle. After receiving your snacks and drinks, you decide to play white noise and dissociate for the next five hours. It’s safe to do so, anyways. Liminal spaces were not something you took for granted.

Meanwhile, Max looks out the window, watching as the world she has come to know her whole life shrinks right before her eyes, before disappearing underneath a quilt of soft white cumulus clouds.

“This is 18.”

Goodbye, San Diego.

—————— ✈︎ ———————

Hello, Hawkins.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Robin incites, trudging through the miscellaneous projects that sit at her feet. “As if we weren’t DIY freaks enough, the pandemic really just amplified that.”

The pandemic was a hard time for everyone. You lost your fine dining gig and abruptly switched to UberEats to adjust to the flow of takeout. Billy couldn’t go to the gym, his happy place, and it took a toll on him mentally. Max broke quarantine multiple times to see Donovan, which didn’t sit well with your brother. He of course lashed out on her and also proclaimed that people like her were the reason why America hadn’t opened up yet.

“And I get no time at the gym!” Billy screamed. “So now I have to do this—”

You learned that a decent lamp costed $70 that night.

That wasn’t your first rodeo though. You and Billy grew up replacing furniture all the time. You two would gather up your money and spend it on replacing whatever needed replacing for Mom’s birthday. She always wanted to make your house feel like a home. Feel lived in. You and Billy thought you were heroes doing it, but it dawns on you now that you two were just babies.

“Oh!” Vicky interrupts. “Before we forget…”

You and Max watch her as she scrambles around, looking for something that she seemed ecstatic about.

“Happy birthday, Max!”

“No way, Kate Bush!” Max exclaims as she accepts the gift, an original Kate Bush vinyl record of her album Hounds of Love.

"Wow," you beam, rubbing your sister’s back. “Way to fuel her 80's hyperfixation, huh?"

“We found this at the thrift store,” Vicky boasted. “Knew we had to get it for ya.”

“It’s the real deal too," Robin adds. "Look, printed 1985.”

“It’s perfect,” Max gushes. “Can’t wait to play it on my Crosley.”

She thanks them both and hugs them before running back to the living room to get the rest of your belongings. You listen as she hums some of Kate Bush’s discography along the way.

You then observe Max as she unpacks her things one by one, slightly peppered with remnants of the California sand and the snobby fee it took to ship it all here via cargo. She then proceeds to sit on the new bed to check the springing quality, testing its bounce factor and comparing it to that of her old bed.

You let out a bittersweet sigh.

Suddenly you're eight years old, doing the same thing at the local motel Mom managed to snag a couple nights from when Dad trashed the house.

You turn to look in the mirror atop your new dresser.

Suddenly, you're Mom. Quite literally. You both have the same wavy blonde hair, scattered freckles across your nose that Billy used to call “stardust”, and the same tsunami blue eyes. It makes it no wonder why you and Dad never got along. You are Mom’s spitting image — and Billy is Dad’s.

Funny how life turns out.

You graze the crows feet at the outer corner of your eyes, realizing now how many years have silently passed you by, and then take note of the stress-defined scars in the form of eye baggage from all the sleepless nights that came as a souvenir.

You’ve put up with so much. For so long. The trauma is starting to manifest itself physically.

Robin snaps you back into present day. "So I was thinking we go to Applebee's for dinner, walk around Old Town, get you guys settled and unpacked when we return, Jenga at night, and then-"

She stops when she sees the horrified expression on your face.

“Hey…” the pitch in her comforting, raspy voice heightens. “What’s the matter?”

Your voice breaks. “It’s…” you manage. “It’s been a lot.”

Robin pats your back. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

Without looking, Robin snags a few tissues from a box laying around and gives them to you. You blot the tears away, careful not to mess up the makeup you had on with the intention to make you look less…dead.

“Sue didn’t even call and wish her happy birthday. Her own mother.”

“I’m so sorry,” Robin repeats.

“Every day I watch Max store her trauma in the box... and just shove it into the corner where it gathers dust,” you continue. “If she doesn't unpack it..."

You didn’t even want to think of the collateral damage you and your brother caused her. A part of you wants to think Maxine has remained untouched from that side of you, but the dry blood on her outer brow was a reminder that it was far too late to shelter her from that.

"You see yourself in her."

"And my mom in myself,” you admit. “Now more than ever.”

You rub your eyes.

“I’m rambling, I know. It’s just… SO aggravating. Max deserves better.”

“She’s handling it really well.”

“We don’t know that. I know Max. She’s a pro at hiding her feelings.”

“She’s being strong for you, like you are for her. It’s very endearing, whether you both admit it to each other or not.”

She rubs your arm.

“For as long as Vicky and I are here, you and Maxine have a soft place to land. We are here for you. Y’all are safe.”

You two glance over at Max, who is now unpacking your Zen Basics Himalayan salt lamp. She sets it on top your new bedside table, a reupholstered one whose old wood was painted over by an earthy olive green, the old hardware replaced by eccentric shaped, neutral-toned knobs. Her Crosley sits on your floor, now playing a track off Kate Bush's vinyl while she stares out the window. Your new view for the foreseeable future.

Can't you see where memories are kept bright?

Tripping on the water like a laughing girl

Time in her eyes is spawning past life

One with the ocean and the woman unfurled

Holding all the love that waits for you here

Catch us now for I am your future

A kiss on the wind and we'll make the land.

Dinnertime comes fast, but you blame it on the time zone difference. You call shotgun and ride with Robin in the passenger seat, catching up with your best friend while Vicky and Max watch YouTube shorts in the backseat.

Robin gives you a backstory of everything you pass on the way to Applebees, from the schools to churches to family-owned gas stations. She and Vicky seem to know everyone by a first-name basis, naming random people off and knowing exactly who that is every so often. You try to stay engaged, but the only thing on your mind is where you’re going to apply for a job.

Robin drives into a plaza next.

"This used to be a mall, but now it's completely empty," Robin continues pointing to an empty building with remnants of a star symbol etched on it. "E-commerce really turned this strip into a ghost town."

"So basically, if I wanted a job, it would have to be any of these food places, an office of sorts, or an off-brand Blockbuster store?"

"Family Video is closing too," Vicky chimes in. "It's sad. But I guess Hawkins needs yet another overpriced coffee shop."

"You could always work at the gentlemen's club," Max jokes, pointing off to the side.

You turn to where she’s pointing and take note of the matte black rectangular building by the Sizzler’s. It didn’t seem out of place, but the silhouette of an exotic dancer with devil horns gave the sinister establishment away. You couldn’t read the name of the club, but a part of you tries to.

Robin slightly turns and nods in that direction. "Oh yeah. I heard the girls there make bank in tips."

“I made bank in La Jolla doing fine dining,” you point out. “Maybe I can do the same thing here. But at a similar establishment.”

“Fanciest restaurant you’ll get here is Benny’s,” Vicky says. “You’re gonna have to go to the city for fine dining. I don’t think the commute is worth.”

“Guess stripper is your best option,” Max nudges you.

You shoot a glare her way. “Very funny.”

"I know, I was joking," she scoffs. "Billy would kill you anyways."

Billy would literally go insane if you dared to work at a strip club. The slut-shaming would never end. Not that he never slut-shamed you anyway. There was always something for him to be misogynistic and hypocritical about.

Then it hits you. Billy isn't here. And you really need the money since in this day and age, $4,000 meant nothing. You peer over at the gentlemen's club one last time as it shrinks out of view the further Robin drives.

HELLFIRE.

-----------𓆩♡𓆪------------

Dungeons & Dragons.

Of course one of the very few strip clubs in Hawkins has to be the dorkiest.

But you understand the vision. Beyond the cobblestone entrance, the veil between real life and fantasy thins.

As you near the club with nothing but a purse and car keys in hand, you notice that there’s already security by the door. You’re surprised to see a leaner guy, tall and slender with soft blonde hair and a soft grin to match. He catches sight of you and greets you with a nod.

“Good afternoon,” he says. “How are you today?”

“I’m good,” you nod. You reach for your wallet and give him your ID. Typical screening process. “Yourself?”

“Not too shabby,” he replies.

He examines your ID card. You notice his surprise when his eyes slightly widen before retracting shortly after. You guess that he was wondering why you are here out of all places. You peer over at his name tag while he concludes his screening. Henry.

Upon verification of your identity, the friendly security guard returns your card to you.

“Let me give you a wrist band.”

He motions for you to hold an arm out. You extend your right arm to him and watch as he gracefully pulls a paper wristband out of his pocket, clasping it into place with the side that read “21+” facing upwards.

You take the time to admire the gentleness of this man. The softness of his face. His dreamy gaze.

“Any weapons on you?”

“Uh…” you stammer. “Just pepper spray?”

A laugh escapes from his nostrils. “That’s fine, my dear.”

“I hope I don’t have to use it.”

“Don’t worry, darling. Under my watch, you won’t.”

Henry gently strokes your hand before motioning you inside.

“Enjoy the show.”

“Thanks,” you smile politely.

It’s a slow afternoon, but granted no one goes to a strip club at 2 PM. The Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club was comprehensively laced with playful innuendos. The accent wall by the entrance showcases an array of chains and handcuffs. Kukris, nun-chucks, and flails all of different variants and sizes are displayed on the walls, the point of balance being a vintage pulp print of a metal puppeteer. On the print, "OBEY YOUR MASTER" is written in edgy bubble letters.

Kinky.

And there’s a bonus of this themed club: the ladies are dressed in cloaks. You watch as beautiful women from all walks of life strut around the joint, leaving the clients with only their imagination to guess what’s underneath the tantalizing, medieval velvet.

There are LED signs that lit up corners of the space, indicating what they were for. KAS’ KORNER: GRAB A BITE, DRAGON'S BREATH: HOOKAH LOUNGE, and POTIONS — the bar.

You catch a glimpse of the private show rooms, or at least what you think are the private show rooms.

The LED sign to those rooms read, "I PUT A SPELL ON YOU AND NOW YOU'RE MINE."

The general seating area for the main event reads VECNA’S LAIR.

The Dungeon Master of this joint thought of every possible detail he could and ironed it into perfection.

Surely, someone who truly plays would adore every aspect of all the details, but it was evident that everyone came here for the same reason:

Girls, girls, girls.

You walk over to the bar to see two men conversing behind it.

One looked to be in his late 20s, with scruffy chestnut brown hair, some tired eyes, peach fuzz, and a patterned shirt decorated in a kaleidoscope of colors — a shirt meticulously calculated by quite possibly a girlfriend.

The other looked like he had another year left before being allowed to be behind that counter... of course judging by the “Hawkins High School class of 2021” on his insulated water bottle in his hand, a cracked iPhone in the other, and Beats with a small basketball sticker on it.

When you appear in their periphery, the conversation between the two gradually comes to a stop.

“Whoa,” the younger man hums. “New face. Welcome.”

“Hi. What do you recommend?”

“In terms of what?” the younger man questions slyly. There’s a timidness to the young man’s spirit, making his flirtatious demeanor somewhat dorky. The age appropriate bartender nudges him.

“Drinks, hotshot,” you refrain from chuckling. “Drinks.”

“Depends what you’re into,” the younger man replies, the slyness continuing. “If you’re into light liquors, Jonathan can make you a mean Cîroc with pineapple juice. But if you’re more into the dark stuff…”

He gestures up and down on himself.

“Then look no further.”

“That was very painful to listen to,” the older one who you assume is Jonathan cringes. “Can you get anymore corny?”

“Ta-ha!” the younger one tsks. “He said could I get any more corny. Can you get any more bitchless?”

“I have a girlfriend, Lucas.”

“Emphasis on the singular sense.”

“Nance is all I need.”

"Nancy is all you can pull," Lucas chuckles. "With that goofy ass shirt, man. Stop playing with me."

So you weren’t the only one who thought the shirt was absolutely ridiculous. It had "Bad Bitch Repellant" written all over it.

Jonathan whacks Lucas with the cloth that was sitting atop his shoulder. You request a double Tito’s straight on the rocks from Jonathan to which he automatically starts to make. Lucas continues to interrogate you.

“As you heard, my name is Lucas. Lucas Sinclair.” He extends his hands to you. “But my favorite ladies call me 'Dark Chocolate'. You can call me, 'The Man of Your Dreams' though.”

You take the youngster’s hand in yours and shake it. His heavy locker room cologne makes your nose swell, an uneven mix of what you believe is Axe and — is that Dior?

You tell Lucas your name then hit him with a, “But you can call me ‘When You’re Thirty’.”

Lucas laughs at your joke, beaming up at you as he does so. Then he nods to communicate a gracious fair enough. The flirting, you could sense, was in good nature, playful.

“It was worth a shot,” he shrugs. “Do you have a younger sister by any chance?”

“Oh in your dreams, mister.”

Jonathan chuckles and rubs Lucas’s back.

"That’s enough man, can you go buss that table over there?"

Lucas gives a thumbs up before putting his Beats on and walking away. You divert your attention back to Jonathan who is now done with making your drink.

“Alright… I got a Tito’s double shot — straight — on the rocks,” Jonathan announces as he slides your vice on over. He studies you as you take the drink and request to keep the tab open. “I’m inclined to ask. Are you okay?”

When you’re not around Billy, you wear your heart on your sleeve. It wouldn’t hurt to trauma dump on a stranger. Especially one who asked.

“Pretty far from okay,” you answer before chugging it. “Can’t you tell? It’s 2PM and I’m consoling…” You slosh the drink around in your hand. “…my man Tito.”

“I see that.”

“It’s been a long day,” you continue. “It’s my second day in Hawkins so I thought I’d scope this place out. Dilly dally for a bit.”

“Second day?” Jonathan questions. “As in…ever?”

“Yeah, just moved here.”

The bartender looks around as if he’s missed something. “But…why?”

It’s a fair reaction. If the welcome sign is correct, Hawkins only has a population of 1,314 people. 1,316 now including you and Maxine.

“My friend lives here and convinced me to make the move,” is what you explain, though it only seems to make Jonathan more confused. “Couldn’t take the heat Cali was dishing out. Hawkins seemed like the perfect place to slow down.”

“Oh man,” Jonathan mutters. “California to here, what a change.”

“You lived here long?”

“Lived here my whole life,” he answers as a matter of factly.

“What made you get a job at Hellfire?”

Jonathan didn’t have to think. “I love booze.”

You laugh together, raising your half-empty class to clink his invisible one.

“I hate 9-5s,” Jonathan draws on. “Working from home ‘bout damn near drove me insane, don’t know how my mom does it with such ease. My boss here smokes me out on occasion and my friends make me nachos.” He smiles. “Can’t think of anything better.”

“There we go.”

"I’ve also just been looking out for women my whole life," he adds. "Bout time I get some financial compensation for it, no?"

“Amen to that,” You chug the last of your drink. “Thanks for your service.”

"Pleasure is mine. Anything else I can do for ya?"

You think. "Hm, probably not you, but maybe the hiring manager can do something for me."

"You're looking to work here?" he clarifies as you nod. "Oh sweet, you're going to wanna talk to Eddie. He's the owner."

"And a dweeb," says a significantly younger looking fellow as he slides into the conversation.

“Here we go.”

In front of you now is a gentleman around Lucas’s age with wild curly brown hair. You watch as he helps himself to a club soda, dunking three large wedges of lemon into his cup as well.

The guy offers you a playful, pearly white grin. “Eddie may own a nice club with some smokin' hot babes, but he's got no game whatsoever."

“Hey Dustin.”

“Sup, man.”

“You think so?" you challenge him.

"I know so,” the boy who you now know as Dustin insists. “Can't talk up a chick to save his life."

"Yeah," Jonathan says, half-jokingly. "He's the bitchless one."

Dustin glances between you both, slightly puzzled.

You shake your head. "No way."

"I wouldn't say he's that bad," Dustin says. "I actually think he's seeing someone casually. But in general, dude's got zero rizz."

"Projecting are we?" Jonathan nudges him.

“HELL. NO.” Dustin booms. You attempt to refrain from laughing. “My game is what got me the baddest gal at science camp. Eddie? Clumsy as hell, stutters on his words, he's got the anxiety level of someone who drinks cold brew on an empty stomach… Now that I say it out loud, I think he does drink cold brew on an empty stomach. Some chicks dig it though, which is good for him.”

Curly was fun to observe. Once he’s done talking down on the club owner, Dustin politely walks over and shakes your hand, bowing to you like you’re a princess of sorts. You later find it that like Lucas, Dustin works as a bus boy and server, and his girlfriend makes sure that he remains in Kas’ Korner at all times. Dustin has about two years left before legally being permitted behind the POTIONS bar, but that doesn’t stop him from using it as his own storage shed.

You watch as he grabs some deodorant and hair pomade from an old shoe box under the counter.

“Anyways, later,” Dustin holds up a peace sign, starting towards the door. “I'm not on today, I'm just hitting the gym with Steve."

“Later, man!” Jonathan calls after him.

“Deuces. Say hello to Dark Chocolate for me.”

Before he could get any further, the loud swinging of a door closeby causes him to halt in place.

“ALRIGHT!” a loud, gruff voice booms from that direction. “Which one of you shitheads forgot to take inventory on the 10th?!”

You can’t help but turn your body towards the ruckus. And to your own pleasant surprise, you don’t regret it. Emerging from the door comes the possible shift lead, a tall and broad man with medium length wavy brown hair, chocolate-colored, youthful doe eyes that contradicted the deep lines on his face, bleach white Chuck Taylor’s, ripped black jeans, and a Hellfire Club baseball tee with the logo smack-dab in the middle.

The man looked to be in his mid to late 20s, with an assertiveness in his stride. His lips, a perfectly formed bow with a smirk-like undertone. The cool rings that rest upon his fingers look icy as they sway at his side, shining in contrast to his dark clothing.

The man is too tunnel-visioned to see where he was going. But that doesn’t stop Dustin from looking absolutely mortified.

“The 10th and the 11th,” the man clarifies. “So for all we know, we might need new kegs and ground chili, which is one more thing I have to d-”

Finally he looks up, with you being the first thing he sees. Proximity taking him aback, he snaps out of his stress-induced trance and softens up at the sight of you. You meet his eyes, big and beautiful with long wispy lashes and you can’t help but mimic the flutter in your heart in the form of a smile.

“Whoa.” He says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Whoa, indeed.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s Eddie’s first day back, he tends to get a little in the zone,” Dustin explains.

Eddie.

Does that mean…

“Are you the hiring manager?”

You didn’t know who you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the man in front of you. He must be proud of himself, having such a successful business so early in the game.

Eddie gathers himself quickly.

“Dungeon Master, hiring manager, manager, owner, sanitations, re-stocker,” Mr. Jack-of-all-trades confirms. “I do it all.” He grimaces at Dustin. "Since you know, some people don't wanna work."

"You said I can have off!" Dustin exclaims defensively. "I worked for you before the weekend already and I wasn’t even on the 10th and 11th, fuck outta here."

All it takes is a scowl his way from the boss and Dustin is radio silent. The look on Eddie's face definitely said "Watch your tone". Eyes are all on you once more soon after.

Eddie’s gaze softens when he looks at you.

“Were you…looking to apply?”

“Yeah,” you reply sheepishly. “As a dancer. I’d like to perform here.”

“You don’t sound too confident.”

“Some guys like shy girls,” you shrug.

He laughs, a dark honey kind of laugh that just oozed from the back of his throat. “That they do.” His voice deepens drastically. Eddie studies you. “Any dancing experience?”

“Dancing, yes.”

“Stripping experience?”

“None.”

“Hm,” Eddie says. “What do you have experience in?”

“I danced for a bit…I have good core strength,” you explain vaguely. “And I’ve worked in the restaurant industry so I’d say customer service is my superpower.”

Eddie soaks in the information.

“I know how to talk to people,” you continue. “I know the right things to say. Favorite pass time is upselling drinks. And dessert…”

You wait for Eddie to take the low hanging fruit. He doesn’t.

"Any experience with the pole?”

Your cheeks grow hot. You decide to lie.

"No.”

“Kinda essential for this profession, sweetheart.”

"I know," you respond humbly. "I wouldn’t doubt it for a second..." you scan the room. “So uh, do I need a permit to perform here?”

“Nah, Hawkins is a lawless wasteland pretty much,” he sighs placing his hands on his hips. “And my club does things a little different anyways. The ladies also don’t pay to perform, we pay them to.”

Shit. Strippers pay to perform at venues?

“The dining experience is what brings the base revenue in,” Lucas explains, returning from wherever he had been. “The ladies are a luxury.”

“And should be treated as such,” Jonathan chimes in.

“I take it you don’t work at any other clubs?” Eddie questions judging by your wide eyes attempting to take in every bit of information that has been dumped on you. The man sees right through your mask.

“No, but I-”

“I personally like to give everyone a chance,” Eddie says. “So don’t worry babe, you’re good. Even though you don’t have any experience, your energy tells me that you have potential. Wanna show us what you can do?”

Your heart sinks. The handsome club owner called you babe. And you’re also being asked to perform with the little experience you have — in front of girls who had tons of experience.

“Here? Now?”

Eddie nods.

You weren’t prepared to dance today. But with your sister and the mountain of debt on your mind, you are willing to do anything. So you walk over to Jonathan and tell him what song you feel most comfortable performing to and stretch as he takes the time to find it. When all is said and done, you make your way to the icy pillar made of chrome steel that was calling for your attention.

You exhale deeply.

Back to the old stomping grounds. The last time you worked with a pole you were wearing Heeley’s and light up sneakers. Of course in place of the horny spectators there were playground supervisors, and the only “bars” there were monkey bars. Oh, and you were 8, not 28.

The slut-shaming still existed, though. One time a boy told you that you were acting like a ‘hoe’ for trying to do a trick upside down. To Billy’s retaliation though. Before you knew it, the same boy was being shoved down and dragged across the wood chips, acquiring a series of splinters along the way. Admin phoned home. You and Billy got spanked. But, of course, Billy had no regrets. While you both cooled off together, you remember him grazing your hand, telling you he’d beat that kid up “a gajillion times over”.

He kept that promise. Except as you two grew older, it was you he was doing it to. A gajillion times over.

You laugh at the bittersweet nostalgia.

“Whenever you’re ready, babe,” Eddie says.

You give Jonathan a thumbs up to play your song selection. Soon, Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club is filled with the catchy, seductive tune that is Layla by Eric Clapton.

You start with a small stroll around the pole. Then a dramatic dip to flaunt your bouncy golden locks. Soon, the women of Hellfire gather around with the men following soon after to watch you work your magic in Vecna’s crowded Lair.

If muscle memory is in your favor, they are in for a good show.

What will you do when you get lonely

No one waiting by your side?

You've been running, hiding much too long

You know it's just your foolish pride

Eddie claims a seat at a throne directly in front of the pole. He studies your technique, your movements, your facial expressions. You aren’t sure if reality is projecting onto you or if you’re dizzy from all the spinning, but you almost see a slight smile spread across the club owner’s face. It prompts you to keep going.

Layla, got me on my knees

Layla, begging, darling, please Layla

Darling, won't you ease my worried mind?

It’s a lot harder, your techniques and tricks. Most likely since you weigh more than 50 pounds now and had to exert more energy to keep yourself balanced an aligned. But nonetheless, you persist.

Tried to give you consolation

Your old man had let you down

Like a fool, I fell in love with you

You turned my whole world upside down

You buck your hips upward from you back arch to go into an upside down position. It earns you some hooting and cheering from the crowd.

“You better work, mamas!” a dancer cheers.

“I KNOW THAT’S RIGHT!”

“YOU GO GIRL!”

“YAAAS!”

Layla, got me on my knees

Layla, I'm begging, darling, please Layla

Darling, won't you ease my worried mind?

Eddie watches intently, leaning backwards with his hands clasped forward. You feel his eyes burn through you, from the top of your head down to your toes. You feel as if he’s mentally scoring you like you’re at a competition, but the sisterhood that cheers you on makes you feel slightly less intimidated.

“SHE’S SO GOOD!” comes a high-pitched voice in the crowd. “I FREAKING LOVE HER!”

You turn to look at your own personal cheerleader, a bright-eyed cute little redhead with pigtails with an outfit that looks like an ode to Britney Spears’ “Hit Me Baby One More Time”. She has cherry hair ties that hold her two pigtails at the bottom.

You watch her clap and jump up and down, cheering you on with a beam in her eyes that made you feel like your souls have been friends for decades.

Motivated to attempt more risqué moves, you jump into the splits before kicking your legs around to end on your knees.

Clapping and whistling erupts from the lair. Once it dies down, Eddie stands up, offering you a delighted series of slow claps as he makes his way towards you.

"That was really good, Shy Girl. I like how you finished your set."

“Aw, thanks Eddie.”

He walks around you.

"Go like this?" Eddie does a stretching motion, lifting his hand up.

You imitate him and reach up.

"Okay, and... turn like this? Then pop your ass out a bit more."

The word rolled off the club owner's tongue like it was nothing. It was done in a way that was professional, a hint of respect in his tone with no sort of ulterior motive.

You swallow hard, attempting to internally tame the goosebumps on rising upon your skin. He’s just giving feedback, he’s just giving feedback. This is a professional line of work.

You do as he says as he circles around you, fingers grazing on the cool floor of the stage just inches away from your thighs. He taps them in thought.

"For a beginner you’re pretty damn good,” he says.

“Yeah?” you look up at him and smile.

“Yeah,” his voice deepens. “You’re a natural. All that shyness just went away.”

Well, it’s about to return, you think to yourself.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

“Not in this specific setting.”

There’s a slight shift in his eyes as his imagination wanders. The dimples at the side of his mouth concave slightly.

“I gotcha.”

Eddie clears his throat. “So uh, when can you start?”

Today is Wednesday. You have tomorrow, Friday, and the weekend to settle you and Max in and make any last minute stops. Then the appointment with the other loan officer and DMV appointment on Monday. Tuesday afternoons are dry — everywhere so that left the earliest you can start as

"Next Tuesday? In the evening?"

A soft snort escapes from the club owner’s nose.

"Driest night of the week," he comments, looking around his club.

He turns back to you.

"But a good time for orientation. Works for me, Shy Girl. Can I call you that?”

You smirk. “So I got the job?”

He nods.

“Then you can call me what you want,” you smile shaking his hand. “In this case I’m Shy Girl Hargrove.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiles. He knows you’re flirting. Eddie accepts your hand and shakes it firmly.

“Eddie. Pleased to formally meet you. And welcome to Hellfire.”

You two exchange contact information for professional purposes before he leaves. You study Eddie as he sees himself out, planting a firm, teasing smack on Lucas’s stomach on his way and whispering something to Jonathan as well.

Your cheerleader from the crowd excitedly makes her way over.

“I know a dancer slash gymnast when I see one,” she chirps. “I’m Chrissy. Stage name is Cherry.”

You two shake hands and exchange further compliments with one another. Your heart swells when you realize you’re slowly starting to find community.

“It’s so nice to meet you.”

Others come and say hello, but you’ve tuned out all the faces because all you can think about is Eddie. His demeanor. The way he carries himself. His presence alone was something so intoxicating that it lingered around the place in his absence.

Your heart flutters.

“Oh, Hargrove!” Jonathan says. “Before you go I just wanted you to know that you don’t have to worry about the drink.”

“Oh?” you respond. “No?”

“Eddie says it’s on the house.”

You smile and Jonathan returns the favor, making sure you see him when he voids your entire tab. As you wave bye to all your spectators, you release a grateful sigh. You felt very humbled about this new, yet unexpected beginning.

The happiness soon wears off when the events that just unfolded dawn on you. Suddenly, the flutter in your heart moves to your stomach, settling in a way that feels eerie. The unknown is pestering you again. Wrong, but oh so right and necessary.

You take in the area around you. You have a place to call home. You’re a stripper now. Your boss just bought your drink. You’re going to have money coming in. Oh, and YOU’RE A STRIPPER NOW.

Then it dawns on you. You need to go shopping.

#Spotify #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things 5 #hellfire club #Eddie munson fan fiction #Eddie munson fics

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wisteria-blooms · 8 months ago

Text

sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (9/??)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST AT THE BOTTOM! (Let me know if you'd like to be added or if I've missed you!) A/N: "I'll try to update every 2 weeks." Uh - sorry. This is only edited once so I apologize for any mistakes. I thought it was better to get this out and keep things moving than holding onto it forever! Hope you enjoy. (:

WARNING: Y/N starts to get horny. Short descriptors of sexual situations. Minors DNI!

CHAPTER 9: As the days go on, Charlie's presence arouses some very... interesting thoughts within you. One night, his actions towards another man makes you question his feelings for you. And if that wasn't complicated enough, you get an urgent message from Molly. (6.2k words)

CHAPTER 9: THE PASSENGER SEAT

“This is exactly why I said not to apparate into the apartment!” You shrieked as you shut the bathroom door so hard it nearly flung off its hinges.

Or so you thought. The amount of force you used wasn’t quite sufficient so the door decided to spring back to you like a boomerang. When you realized it wasn’t going to shut, you chucked out a spare towel as a distraction.

“Have you considered maybe,”—Charlie, who’d just apparated into the apartment, ducked to avoid the towel—“closing the door for privacy?”

You took the opportunity to shut the door. “I needed to vent the air out,” you retorted, your voice muffled by the barrier.

“Sure you did,” Charlie responded, his voice seeping through the small crack below.

“I will vent it into your room, Charlie,” you threatened. “And you’re not going to like it when your room feels like a rainforest.”

“How would you know I don’t like the heat?”

You choked.

“Look on the bright side, (Y/N),” Charlie reminded. “You weren’t naked.”

“May as well have been,” you grumbled as you slipped into your room, the humid air sticking to your form as you walked.

“I’ve seen you in much less,” was Charlie’s response. Barely there, but your ears always perked up for whatever he said.

You stilled in front of your closet, your face tingling. ”That was one time.”

The day you accidentally walked out in a slip dress in front of Charlie was permanently burned in your mind. So, you’d taken to wearing more in the living room so Charlie couldn’t poke fun of your state of (un)dress. Living with him was proving to be quite habit-changing indeed.

You walked back out in a t-shirt and sweatpants, leaving no more than a couple inches of skin exposed. You were amused to find Charlie on the sofa, tinkering with an artifact. You crossed your arms and drummed your fingers on your deltoid. “Now, will you promise to stop apparating into the apartment?”

“No promises,” Charlie said languidly as he reclined back on the couch, spreading his legs out and continuing to scrape some rust off the artifact with his nail. His fingers were so long—and it was then that you’d lost the ability to speak, the tortuous vision in front of you forcing your mouth agape.

You ripped your eyes away, pivoted towards the kitchen, and inhaled deeply through your nostrils. You couldn’t, shouldn’t, really, really, shouldn’t be imagining what was laying in-between his limbs. But faster than you could control your impulses, your imagination went off to the races: what did it look like? If the laws of proportion held true and if Charlie’s appendage was anything like his body, it would surely rest thick and heavy in your hands. Maybe it would be red and freckled like him.

You saw a brief image kneeling in front of Charlie, knees digging into the marble floor, your hands wrapped around his cock, mouth parting to accommodate his girth, his pupils blown wide, his blue eyes fluttering close, his head thrown back as his hands remained tangled in your hand, “good girl”—

Holy. Shit.

It was one thing to dream about it in the privacy of your bedroom, but doing it in front of Charlie seemed invasive, and you were absolutely fucked if he had mind-reading abilities of any sort. Given how everything came to him with ease, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was watching your thoughts like a film reel. Red in the face, you went into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of cold water and slammed a scoop full of ice cubes into your cup. You chugged. Not effective. You needed another shower and preferably at a temperature that was below freezing this time.

Your heart rate persisted its course of flying through the roof. What was this? You either needed to scrub your mind clean of all the Madame Millicent you’d consumed the past couple weeks or just plain get your priorities straight. You abhorred when Fred spread his legs on the sofa or on a public bench. You told him straight to his face that it looked—and was—improper, and it took space from others, especially on the tram or a bench. So why was it that when Charlie did it, you instead wanted to jump his bones?

“(Y/N),” Charlie called out.

“Yes?” You turned slowly, fingers maintaining a death grip on your glass. Here it came: his confession of his mind-reading abilities.

“Come here.”

You felt as if someone had punched your windpipe. Cracked it into little pieces. How cruel of him to predisposition you to respiratory disease at the tender age of 23.

You shuffled slowly towards him, a cold sweat prickling your skin because of what he was going to say or do.

“Sit,” he commanded.

“Where?” You blurted.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Here, of course.” He patted to the cushion to his left and you immediately complied.

“You’re acting funny,” he observed, cocking his head.

“Really?” You questioned. “I don’t think so.”

His lips lifted into a curious smile. You leaned forward to set your water down on the table, grateful that it allowed you to break eye contact with Charlie— a much-needed moment of respite.

“See this?” Charlie placed the artifact, which you now discovered was a fossil, in your hands. A current of electricity ran through your fingers, each inch of skin blooming with the intensity of a thousand fireworks. And as if that wasn’t enough touch, he swung his left arm around you before finding your hand again. You shuddered when his larger, callused hands covered yours completely.

Hands. Hands and fingers in your hair, simultaneously pulling your strands and forcing your head down on his cock.

You shuffled your position on the couch, trying to mitigate the growing heat in between your legs.

Charlie’s thumb brought you back to reality, guiding yours over a ridge on the fossil and onto the ribs of whatever creature had been buried in sediment and imprinted upon the rock. “Bill brought it back from Egypt for me. It’s a Nundu, or at least what they’re known as now, from over five thousand years ago. Evolved a lot since. Pretty neat, don’t you reckon?”

“Yes.”

Charlie pouted. “I thought you’d be more interested.”

“I am!” you said, squinting your eyes and leaning closer to inspect every speck of bone in the fossil.

“I’ve been told you quite enjoy magical creatures.”

You paused. “By who?”

Charlie leaned in, hovering a mere two inches from your face, and teased, “Can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“I was sworn to secrecy lest I be cursed by the fury of a thousand Whizbangs.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Fred? George? Both?”

Charlie leaned back onto the sofa again and grinned. “Maybe.”

Your pulse quickened. “What did they say?”

“Nothing more than the fact you took the elective together,” Charlie said. “I just thought it was unlike you. Why’s that got you all worked up, hm?”

You rubbed the back of the fossil, asking yourself the same question. What did it matter if Charlie learned about the fact that you’d basically flunked Care of Magical Creatures? You’d only taken the class because Fred and George insisted you should stick together, but your fear of the same creatures took precedence and the rest was history.

“You know how Fred is,” you responded with a strained smile. “He’s always twisting things around to make me look bad.”

But maybe Charlie was telling the truth. If he’d known about your abysmal grade, he’d probably be teasing you ruthlessly right now instead of nodding along with you and saying something like: “He’d never be able to make you look bad in my eyes, (Y/N).”

Heat smattered against your cheeks as your lips parted. There was no part of you that wasn’t molten now. Perfect, you’d transitioned from a hormonal imbalance to menopause. Charlie Weasley has proven himself terrible for your health, but here you sat, listening ardently to everything he had to say about Nundus.

On Thursday, you walked into the outpatient wing of St. Mungos. Charlie had left the previous day for Hogwarts, leaving you some peace of mind without his presence. And as luck would have it, Healer Tousignant was going to provide you a cure for your issues. She was excellent, wasn’t she? Despite this, you remained unsure. Deep in some compartment of your brain, you wondered how your friends would react if they found out. You’d receive the run-of-the-mill treatment by the twins (“Oh good, you’re finally sleeping with someone? Wait! It’s just a bit suspicious that it’s all happening now, isn’t it?”).

But Charlie? He was a wildcard. You imagined him finding a sleeve of pills in the living room. Would he think you responsible, or would he think you did this out of necessity because you were sleeping with someone else? Which again, posed the question: what did it matter what he thought? Truthfully, you knew. You were far too tangled up in your growing affections for him to not care about what he thought.

The secretary brought you back to reality and place: the office of Healer Tousignant. “What can I help you with?”

“I’m here for my appointment with Healer Tousignant.”

“Your name, please.”

“(Y/N) Malfoy.”

The receptionist nodded, tapped her quill twice against an appointment scheduler, the light thwacks resonating with your beating heart. She pursed her lips and scrunched her nose. Her glasses shifted downwards as she looked at some blotting ink that was appearing on the paper.

“It seems Healer Tousignant has just been called into the gynaecology and obstetrics department for emergency coverage,” the receptionist said.

“Alright,” you breathed out. You had to thank some higher powers for letting you off so easily. “I can come back another day.”

You were halfway out the door when her voice stopped you in your tracks. ”Of course not,” the receptionist said with a wave of her hand. “It won’t be long. Head to the east wing, fifth floor up, until you find room 5-E. She’ll see her before her lunch break.”

“Are you certain? I’m happy to come back another day if she’s handling an emergency.”

“Absolutely,” she responded with confidence. “You shouldn’t be waiting for more than 15 minutes. Healer Tousignant is very experienced and efficient with deliveries. I hope the change in location isn’t an inconvenience, but you should be otherwise accommodated.”

Plans foiled and any chance of escape thwarted, you dragged your feet to the east wing and took the stairs to prolong the inevitable. When you pushed the last door open, you were almost blinded by sunlight. This section of the hospital was adorned with glass windows and as a result, was lush with natural light. Blooming plants lined the sterile-clean hallways.

Nurses in lavender smocks and perfectly-slicked back hair strolled past you, some pushing carts with meals, others pushing carts with sterilized tools.

You gazed into the smoky windows of a waiting room. Your eyes landed on a pair of expectant mothers chattering excitedly to each other. Unknowingly, you smiled. Their excitement was contagious. Your eyes then trailed to a couple walking out the doors. The female was heavily pregnant and was being supported by her loving, adoring partner—

Her partner being Bill Weasley.

Panicked, you backtracked your steps and turned the nearest corner. You scrambled for safety under the cover of an oversized plant. In any other circumstance, you would’ve loved to exchange formalities, but something told you that you sauntering around the Obstetrics and Gynaecology Wing at St. Mungo’s wouldn’t be a good look, especially after Charlie’s erroneous proclamation about your sex life last week (and you hoped it hadn’t spread much around that little circle of women). So, you pressed your back against the light green wall, trying to shrink yourself so no part of you would jut out.

Bill and Fleur, thankfully, didn’t even turn around as they walked, much more enraptured by each other than anyone else. You cautiously peered out into the hall to catch the last of their retreating figures. Down the last bit of the hall, Bill cradled Fleur like she was the most precious, delicate, fragile and only thing in the world, even though she’d proven she was as tough as nails. His chin rested on the top of head as they walked hand-in-hand. Thoughts of having lunch with Bill clouded your head, and the maturity and stability he exuded by simply inviting you. Unknowingly, you bit your lip. As Bill and Fleur disappeared, your heart thumped in some mess of emotions you couldn’t discern.

When you were certain the expecting parents were out of sight, you followed the directions to Tousignant’s office. You gave the door two solid raps.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Charlie asked from the kitchen island as he effortlessly uncorked a bottle of wine. It was late Friday evening, and Charlie had gotten back from the train station with a bottle of red wine and groceries in one hand, and his briefcase in another. “Another tea party?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you responded. You walked into the pantry, looking for some more ingredients to throw together for your impromptu dinner. Charlie didn’t tell you he was coming back on an empty stomach and you thought he’d have taken care of his dinner himself. You were more than happy to have him here, but the miscommunication led to him dramatically proclaiming he was going to die of hunger at your doorstop.

He was obviously joking because he’d purchased some groceries on the way home.

“Come to a concert with me tomorrow,” Charlie suggested seamlessly as he retrieved two wine glasses from the highest shelf. “I was supposed to go with Bill. We’ve been planning this for years, but Fleur’s due any day now and he won’t leave her side.”

“What kind of concert?” You asked, tossing him a bulb of garlic.

He caught it without missing a beat and responded, “Rock concert.”

“Oh.”

“In muggle London.”

“Ah.”

Charlie chuckled as he switched gears and poured you a glass of Merlot. “It’s not scary, (Y/N), it’s just rock music.”

“I’m not scared,” you retorted, accepting the glass and swirling it around. “I just haven’t been to a concert in ages.”

That was a lie. You’d been to plenty with Fred and George over the years, but going to a concert with Charlie where you might be pressed up to him for three hours was an entirely different concept. Was it a date he was proposing? Or were you just the most convenient thing around to try to fit the tall, lanky gap that was his brother Bill because Charlie didn’t want to go alone?

You drew in a deep breath, furrowing your brows. And then you said something Charlie wasn’t expecting.

“Say you’re sorry first.”

A look, a perfect cross of amusement and surprise, graced Charlie’s face, and he paused midway through crushing a garlic clove under his knife. “What for?”

You let the attractive bass notes of his question float past your ears. “For waltzing in here and telling me I didn’t have a sufficient meal prepared. And implying my culinary skills were insufficient.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Charlie said, a touch more quietly than how he usually spoke. He set his knife down and walked over to you, his height quickly casting a growing shadow over your head. “I figured for hanging out with Fred and George so much, you’d be the queen regnant of taking jabs.”

You pouted at Charlie, trying to take advantage of his apologetic state. This was a dangerous line you were toeing, but you were feeling courageous tonight. “I’m well-aware cooking isn’t my strong suit. It’s been made known to me all my life. I’m trying my best to work on it, but to be put down like that…”

“Hey, hey,” Charlie consoled as he placed two firm hands on your shoulders. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“The damage’s done, Charlie,” you whispered, looking down to conceal a laugh, “I’m—my confidence is crushed.”

You waited for his clever retort. What you weren’t expecting was for him to use the same hands that rested on your shoulders to pull you closer, until your forehead thwacked against his hard chest. The very same pair of hands glided back to your scapula, cornering you in and making escape impossible. He had you locked in his sturdy and very hard arms. You had no choice but to get lost in all six-feet something of him.

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said, his voice rumbling from his chest and vibrating through your body like you were a conductor to his current. With your cheek splayed against his body, it was impossible to think straight. “I don’t think I’ve told you how much I appreciate you letting me stay here when I need. It’s miles above any other accommodation. You don’t need to have anything ready for me, ever. I’d be fine if you kicked me out to sleep on sofa and kept my room for yourself.”

You were about to burst. It was overwhelming: his words, his warmth, and his sudden earnestness. He was acting like everything you imagined someone like, oh, you know, his brother, Bill Weasley to be. But in the midst of it all, when the situation became lucid, you panicked. What were you supposed to do in Charlie’s arms? Nestle in and show him how lovesick you were, or pull away and give him the impression you were uncomfortable in his presence and didn’t like him that way? The latter wasn’t true, but you didn’t want to spill your unformed feelings to him.

“It’s alright,” you said, trying to look up at him but only getting a glimpse of his chin. You decided on the most diplomatic solution. Still in his arms, you agreed. “I’ll go to the concert with you.”

It wasn’t like you were going to say no, anyway. You just wanted to make Charlie work for it.

”Perfect,” he said, voice husky in your ears. “That’s my girl.”

If he kept this up, you were going to devour Charlie for dinner.

Before heading out to muggle London Saturday evening, Charlie suggested you have a drink at the pub. You tried very hard not to let your face show what your brain was thinking when he stepped out of his room in a corduroy jacket, tossed over a shirt, that perfectly skimmed his muscular body. He left his hair tousled and curly.

In the descending lift, you asked him where exactly the bar was. He refused to answer and instead, led you there, the silence between you only broken by him humming a tune.

“This is where Bill and I usually go,” Charlie finally said. You’d almost flown past the entrance until Charlie pulled you back by the arm. The tavern was tucked away on a cul-de-sac, completely hidden from the bustling shopping streets.

Charlie, playing the part of a true gentleman, opened the door and whisked you in. You walked down a short flight of the stairs until the bar came into view. Charlie ducked the low ceilings the whole way down. The space was warm, orange-hued from the wood and lighting, and ridiculously cramped. Or cozy, whichever term fit it better. The bartender—a stout man in his late sixties with a white beard—was chatting with two other men of similar ages. The guests were perched on the barstools, leaving only one of the three seats available.

“Well, look at who it is!” The bartender exclaimed, his accent tinged slightly Scottish. His proclamation prompted his patrons to look your way.

“Charlie!” one of the patrons spoke. “Finally decided to come home?”

“Who’s the lassie?” The bartender asked.

You supposed he meant you. “(Y/N) Malfoy,” you greeted.

“I’m Don, owner.” He shook your hand. “This is Henry, and Bruce.” The two men gave you a wave which you returned. Then, Don looked at Charlie and asked, “Where’s Bill?

“At home, with his wife,” Charlie answered.

Don grinned at looked at you. “I like her, much easier on the eyes than Bill.”

You gave a polite smile.

“Sit.” Charlie gestured to the open seat.

“What about you?” You asked.

“I can stand.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“Charlie, where are your manners?” Don barked. “Get (Y/N) a drink.” Charlie quickly moved forward, head almost hitting the ceiling, to pull a glass from the shelf. The way Charlie obeyed Don so quickly led you to think that Don was a parental figure to him.

“Your reflexes aren’t what they used to be, I’ll get it myself,” Don grumbled. He pulled out five shot glasses. His mouth twisted into a mischievous smile. “Getting old or something?”

“Something like that,” Charlie agreed. “I’m not the same exuberant boy you knew.”

Henry hid his words behind a generous cough. “Aren’t we all blessed by that?”

Don poured you a hefty amount of whiskey and slid the shot glass over to you.

“Loosen up, lassie. It’ll do you some good. Especially if you have to deal with him the whole night.”

You nodded. You clinked your glasses with the four other men and threw back the whiskey. A smidgeon of tears welled up in your eyes as the substance burned your throat.

Don and his friends downed the drink like it was water. ”It’s harsh, but it’ll get you where you need to go.” Then, he peered over at Charlie. “So, what’s keeping Bill at home?” He questioned.

Charlie set his glass down right by yours, “His wife is pregnant, due any day now.”

Don let out a low whistle. “Last I saw Bill, he’d just graduated. Still had his robes when he stopped by the bar to say goodbye before heading to Egypt. Now, he’s got a kid on the way? About time for you too, don’t you think?”

“I’d rather raise dragons,” Charlie said off-handedly. “They’re much more interesting, and less needy.”

“What about you?” Don asked, tilting his head towards you.

You stopped trying to gnaw the bitter taste of alcohol off your mouth when you realized Don was asking your opinion on child-rearing. “I, uhm,” you stammered. “I don’t think I’m particularly good at raising either.”

“That’s no good,” Don said.

Your face fell momentarily.

“I’m only joking,” Don clarified with a hearty laugh. “What else are you having tonight?”

Charlie pressed closer until his warm chest was flush against your back. The chain around his neck swooped by your line of vision and tickled your skin, forcing some heat to your cheeks. “A pint of Guinness.”

“I wasn’t asking you!” Don shouted gruffly as he pulled a glass. “You should know better to wait your turn, lass.”

Don slid the glass towards you.

“Don’t worry about me,” Charlie brushed off. “I’m going to sit here and enjoy watching her drink this.”

You leaned back, neck falling into place in the crook of Charlie’s shoulders, the metal of his necklace lightly digging into your skin, as you whispered to him, “Why did you order me this?”

He tilted his head down, angling his blue eyes straight into yours. “Because I’ve been told you hate it.”

“Are you stalking me or something, Charlie Weasley?”

“It’s mainly for my entertainment,” Charlie whispered. “Let me break you in,” he said in a much louder voice as he leaned forward. He grabbed the pint and took a swig. Instead of setting it back down, he held it out in front of you. “Your turn.”

You stared at where his lips touched the glass previously. Hesitantly, you took the glass into your possession and sampled a feeble sip of it before making a face which you tried to conceal from Don.

“How is it?” Don asked.

“You have an excellent pour,” you praised. Technically, that part was true. “Do you have a tab started for us?”

Don raised an eyebrow. “Everything here is on the house,” he explained. “I don’t make any money, anyway. My financials are in the negatives. I’ve been retired 10 years. I just come here to have a drink without being scolded by my wife.”

You let out a quick laugh, but cut yourself off, thinking it was rude to have a laugh at Don’s finances.

“You should fancy a laugh at his expense. That’s what we all come here for,” Bruce added.

A warm sensation filled your body. You felt like a part of the family, and you’d only met these men fifteen minutes ago.

“How do you know Charlie?” You asked when you felt brave enough.

“Tell her,” Charlie dared, his chest firmly pressed against your back as he picked up your glass again.

Don coughed. “When this troublemaker was barely sixteen and Bill not much older, they stumbled into my bar. I had a right mind to tell them to get out, but they pleaded with me into letting them stay. I was stupid enough to cave in and serve them a touch of alcohol, whatever was left in the barrel.” Don’s forehead crinkled. “Promise me this stays between me and you, and not the Licencing Wizengamot?”

You nodded quickly. “Of co—”

”Actually, (Y/N)’s father works for the Ministry,” Charlie said. “Surely, you made the connection. Lucius Malfoy?”

“Well, fuck me!” Don said, playfully slapping his dish towel on the counter. “Good thing I’m retired.”

“I assure you”—you stretched a hand forward on the table—“My lips are sealed. I can’t say the same about him.” You pointed back to Charlie.

Charlie simply looked down at you with amusement.

After Don told you to be on your way, you left his bar gaily, promising to be back. Presently, your boots slapped the concrete floor as you ascended the steps up to the venue with Charlie. When you entered the complex, he stopped by a standing table where the end of the queue for refreshments started.

“One more drink for the show,” Charlie suggested. “I’ll be back. Another pint for you, queen regnant?”

You nodded, watching as he effortlessly glided through the sea of people. His ginger curls stood out like a sore thumb in the crowd.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N) Malfoy?” A voice rung out on the other side of your head. You pivoted to look to your left.

A tall, lithe man was approaching to where you stood in wait. He looked about your age and wore his blonde hair slicked back. His bright green eyes, ringed with a line of hazel around his pupils, caught yours immediately. The plastic cup of beer he held seemed dwarfed in comparison to the size of his hand.

“Alex,” he introduced, extending his hand. “I’m a friend of Draco’s at the country club.” He leaned forward slightly, his pointer finger extended towards you as stabilized the plastic cup with his other fingers. Just a touch of hesitation marred his voice. “He is your brother, correct?”

Alex gave the impression of regality with his high cheekbones and poised stance. Unlike everyone else who was dressed down in jeans and a tee, he favoured a black blazer over a white shirt, trousers, and a silver watch to decorate his wrist. For all you knew, he descended from Danish royalty, and you didn’t mind curtsying.

“Yes,” you responded. Your face flushed with curiosity, wondering why Alex found it necessary to greet you.

”Well, fancy seeing you here.”

“A dramatic shift in scenery from the golf course and resort,” you jested.

Alex chuckled. “Absolutely less stuffy.”

”What brings you here? You asked.

You watched as his throat caught, trying to latch onto an answer. As you waited, you thought it was downright puzzling why your parents never tried to introduce you to Alex. He seemed far more down-to-earth than the egotistical brutes for sons that your father seemed to favour. Maybe if you’d met him earlier, you wouldn’t have had to dig yourself into this infinite hole of lies.

He shifted his weight from side-to-side, but gave no other tells of being nervous.

“A night out with my mates,” Alex explained. “They reckon I need to get out more after my,” he paused, a nervous smile appearing for the slightest of moments, “my girlfriend broke up with me.”

Your mouth rounded quickly as you wondered who’d dump someone like Alex. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear,” you offered your condolences.

“It’s alright,” he said. “She would’ve hated coming here, anyway. I don’t mind muggle music; it’s quite good. You seem to fancy it, if you’re here.”

“Oh, I’m—”

You froze midway through your sentence when you felt a feather touch of a hand at your hip bone. Gentle enough not to startle you but hard enough to make its presence known. Panic set in quickly and you whipped around, ready to confront whoever deemed it was acceptable to lay a hand on you.

“You—!” you started.

You were captured by the cloudy, deeper blue eyes of Charlie. You stopped yourself. His hand was still wrapped around you, lingering at your hip with no intention of letting go. You wouldn’t have minded if it stayed there, if you were being honest with yourself.

“Got you a drink,” Charlie said, handing you a cup of beer with his other hand. You gingerly accepted it. His lips were pressed in a tight line, leaving no trace of the usual playful Charlie you’d come to know.

Alex was silent. Your eyes darted between the two men. Alex and Charlie were similar heights, but Charlie appeared bigger in stature due to his broad shoulders and muscle tone. Formalities would’ve called for you to introduce them to each other, but there was some strange, palpable tension in the air that you reckoned it was better they remained a mystery to each other.

“Let’s get a move on, (Y/N),” Charlie suggested with a flicker of a smile, his hand moving upwards to give your waist a squeeze. You had to will every inch of your being not to scream; you hadn’t prepared for such intimate touches outside your house or in view of people your age. The men at the pub were a different story. “Don’t want to miss the opener.”

“Wait, (Y/N),” Alex called out before Charlie could whisk you away. “Will you be at the Christmas luncheon?” He asked.

“Yes, of course,” you responded.

“Excellent. I’ll see you there.” He affirmed with a smile, before he returned to a group of friends waiting for him. You snuck a glance; his friends’ faces struck you as familiar.

“Who was that?” Charlie’s eyes danced playfully, his usual disposition crawling back from the void he’d stuffed in a few seconds ago.

“A friend from the country club.”

“Sounds fancy,” he mused. “Are you close?”

“Not really,” you said. “He seems to know Draco, so we must run in the same circles. You can imagine how I feel about that.”

“I can imagine,” Charlie said. He led you to the entrance of where you were seated.

In the darkness and between ear-splitting guitar riffs, you glanced over at Charlie when he wasn’t looking. You wondered why he’d dragged you away from Alex so quickly. There was ample time for the opener, and his intimate touches were as befuddling. They were, as you thought, done in the privacy in your home or when you needed to convince someone of your relationship. Perhaps you were overthinking it. Yes, you definitely were. You recalled when Charlie was overly flirtatious with Cecile, and you were certain he meant nothing of it.

After the show, you filed out with all the other attendees. Your entire body buzzed. You were about to ask Charlie as to how you were getting home, but he was the first to breach the topic.

“Can’t apparate in such a state,” lectured Charlie. He guided you out of the venue and down a back alley.

“Who’s picking us up here?” you asked, pulling your coat closer to fend out the gnarly bites of wind that swept through the area.

“My most trusted driver,” Charlie responded confidently. “It seems he’s just running a minute late.”

Charlie looked down at his watch and tutted twice. That was when the wind picked up dramatically and you hid your face behind Charlie’s shoulder to block it out. Through one cracked open eye, you saw it. A purple vehicle had squeezed through the narrowest gap of the alleyway and then re-expanded to just fit without scraping the sides.

The passenger doors opened.

“Hi, Stan,” Charlie said.

Stan shut the engine off, removed his hat and bowed. ”Shupike. Stan Shupike, at your service.”

“Good evening,” you greeted.

“Evening, ma’am,” Stan responded.

Stan leaned against his seat to give you room to board. Charlie followed behind you. To your amusement, there was no one else on the bus. All the beds were empty and decked out with fresh sheets and puffed pillows, and the privacy curtains drawn back.

You whipped around to face Charlie. ”How were you able to charter a whole bus?”

“Stan has been my driver for years. There’s usually a spare bus at the station.”

“Wouldn’t ever trust Bill or Charlie to operate a vehicle or anything after the nights I’ve seen ‘em have,” Stan grunted from the front. “What’s the address again?”

“27 Primrose Gardens.”

“I’ll take you there if they’ll let my janky bus through those pretty, manicured gardens,” Stan said with a chuckle. The doors shut with a light swish. “Ne’er dropped anyone off there since I started.”

You sat down on a bed and held onto the pole for dear life, watching nervously from behind the curtain as Stan shifted gears. Charlie picked up on your nervousness and shuffled closer.

“Hey,” Charlie said. “I got you.” With that, he looped an arm firmly around you waist, acting like a human seatbelt. His large hand rested on the top of your thigh, fingers gently grazing the fabric of your tights.

You tilted your head. “Thanks?”

“That sounds more like a question than a statement.”

“I do question when you choose to be kind.”

A chuckle escaped his lips. “What does that mean?”

You fell over onto him and onto the bed when Stan took a particularly sharp right turn.

Flustered, you tried getting up.

“Stay where you are,” Charlie said. “Stan says lying down is the safest, at least according to his driver’s manual.”

“Oh, really?” You asked with incredulity.

“It makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?” Charlie lied down as well. “The worst that could happen is that you roll onto someone else. I’d prefer that to kissing the cold floor with my teeth any day.”

Now that you thought about it, it did seem less frightening, being horizontal. The shocks of Stan’s driving seemed to absorb in the mattress. You supposed you hadn’t heard of any horrific injuries on the Knight Bus, so you were inclined to believe this was for the better. You cautiously descended fully on the bed.

Charlie looked at you with one blue eye, the other half his face sunken in the pillow. “Did you have a good time?” He asked.

“Of course I did,” you said. You shimmied around to get comfortable and to let your hands splay out on the on sheets in front of you.

“Do you foresee any more concerts in the future?”

“That’s a possibility.”

“Commit to it. Bill will be out of commission for another eleven years.”

“So, I’m your partner-in-crime for the next eleven years?”

Charlie extended his pinky finger to you. ”Lock it in, (Y/N).”

You hooked your pinky over his and shook on it, but you were barely paying attention to that. There were so many other sights to behold at this angle: the slight slant of strong nose, the quirk of his mouth as he looked back at you, the soft tufts of hair that were basically begging for your hands to comb through, and the glow of sun-kissed skin that seemed unfadable.

“I figured you’d freckle easily,” you said. Without a second thought, you unlatched your pinkies in favour of skimming your pointer finger over a spot on his face. “But your freckles seem to have coalesced into a tan.”

“They’re relentless, very strong-willed,” Charlie agreed. His eyes were heavy, hooded, and his voice was growing thick and raspy with sleep. “They’re not going anywhere, especially not months under the beating sun.”

As your fingers continued to pad his cheek, Charlie’s hand hovered over a wayward strand of hair that’d fallen over your face. He brushed it back and tucked it behind your ear where it belonged. You smiled at the gesture. You watched his eyelashes flutter over his eyes and a peaceful grin, devoid of its usual cockiness, stretch across his face. He was content to be here like this, with you, with your hand on his cheek and his on yours, you surmised.

You studied the gap between your faces—lips, in particular—and wondered if he was thinking what you were thinking: would this gap be better off closed?

Suddenly, the bus screeched to a halt. The resulting inertia threw you off the bed and onto the floor.

“Ow!” You exclaimed, holding the tender point of your elbow that you’d landed on.

“What’s going on, Stan?” Charlie asked calmly, clearly used to these disruptions. You rubbed your elbow, face contorted in discomfort. Charlie lifted you up with ease and back onto the bed.

“Owl near killed itself flying into my window ‘ere,” Stan explained. Near was right. The owl was still flying, pecking petulantly at Stan’s window with a parchment in its mouth.

Stan opened the door and let the owl fly in. It hurriedly found Charlie.

“Mum’s owl,” he said as he unfurled the parchment. You watched nervously as his eyes moved left to right.

“Stan.” Charlie’s voice was serious. “Turn the car around to St. Mungos.”

>> NEXT CHAPTER

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

@badgerqueen07 @superduckmilkshake @k-k-merlin @kisskittenn @pluiesdefleurs@lilianelena39 @bathwater101 @evilunicorns4minions @noah-uhhh-what @earth-to-lottie @kissingyourgrl @sihtricswife @adalia-jaycee @anuttellaa @weasley-clan @morks-watermelon @nobodysbabydoll @annoyingbean630 @bathwater101

#charlie weasley imagine #charlie weasley x you #charlie weasley x reader

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lucky-clover-gazette · 5 months ago

Text

kings rising highlights & annotations

chapter 3

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

The Regent’s forces were rivers of darker red, driving inroads into their lines, mingling their armies together, like a stream of blood hitting water, then diffusing.

He killed, and it was simply that men got out of his way, or were dead.

He had grown used to something that had been temporary, like the flash of exhilaration in a pair of blue eyes for a moment catching his own. All of that tangled together inside him, and tightened, through the killing, into a single hard knot.

something about the way this is written just hits me in the abandonment issues

‘If the Prince of Vere shows himself, I will kill him.’ Nikandros half spat the words.

nik private twitter venting moment #2

The ground was wet, his legs were mud-spattered above his knees—mud in dry summer, because the ground was blood.

i don’t know man i feel like after a point you have to just be like. hey. why are we doing this again? like yeah i get that fighting in a military force can be for A Cause but unless you’re directly involved in enacting ideological change, aren’t you basically just cannon fodder

On the far side of the field, he saw the flash of embroidered red. That is how Akielons win wars, isn’t it? Why fight the whole army, when you can just—

i’m guessing the part in italics in a previous laurent line, about damen killing auguste at marlas?

He used the little name that Damen had been called as a boy; the childhood name, reserved for intimates.

the fact that is was kastor specifically asking the veretians to call him that…

Damen realised that he was on his knees, his own chest heaving like the chest of his horse.

laurent’s horse will be glad to know that damen’s horse lived. because, as we all know, they’re in love

‘Over?’ The word grated out of him. All he could think was that if the Regent still lived, nothing was over.

it is interesting how, even when he thinks laurent screwed him over (see previous chapter), damen has this uncontrollable rage towards the regent rather than laurent. i think this has more to do with the regent killing his men and trying invade his country, though. and maybe just that it’s easier to hate him than laurent. “regent = bad” is something that’s easy for damen to comprehend right now, while laurent’s whole thing is a lot more confusing and intimate

And with returning awareness, he saw as if for the first time the bodies of the men that he had killed to get to the Regent’s decoy, and beyond that, the evidence of what he had done. The field was a rutted earthworks strewn with the dead. The ground was a churned mess of flesh, ineffective armour and riderless horses. Killing ceaselessly, for hours, he had not been aware of the scale of it, of what he had caused to happen here. He saw flashes behind his eyelids, faces of the men he’d killed. Those left standing were all Akielon; and they stared at Damen as at something impossible.

damen holy shit… i guess that’s one way to reclaim your authority. and he didn’t even mean it as a sign of intimidation, he just wanted to get to the “regent.” who by the way was just some random guy RIP

‘Find the highest-ranked Veretian still living and tell them they have leave to bury their dead,’ said Damen. There was a fallen Akielon banner on the ground beside him. ‘Charcy is claimed for Akielos.’ As he rose, Damen wrapped his hand around its wooden pole and planted it in the earth.

not sure if calling it an akielion victory despite the combined forces is just customary, or intentionally out of spite. i’m leaning on the former, since it’s damen and not laurent we're talking about

The herald came cantering across the devastated landscape on a white, glossy mare with a curved neck and a high, flying tail. Beautiful and untouched, he made a mockery of the sacrifice of the brave men on the field. His banner streamed out behind him, and its blazon was Laurent’s starburst, in blue and shining gold.

here is an excerpt from a post i made while reading king’s rising for the first time:

“damen when he realizes he’s not in a slow burn romance with problematic beginnings, but a complex psychological thriller in which the smartest fictional character i have ever personally encountered has decided to make his life a living hell and also they’re in love with each other but the psychological thriller stuff is way more important to his bitchy blonde nightmare malewife and he is SO down bad and just has to deal with laurent’s mean girls 4d chess petty nonsense bc it’s enrichment for him and damen will kill anyone who gets in laurent’s way and he can’t even pick up the very very VERY clear implications of laurent’s trauma that would probably allow them to reach some kind of vulnerability equilibrium in their relationship”

on a re-read, i think this is a great time to dig into that a little more ;)

SO what i love about so much of laurent’s choices in the next few chapters is the fact that much of what he says and does is entirely petty. like, yes there’s always strategy and trauma and depth as usual, but i think it’s not denying him depth to say that he is 20 years old, this is his first love in the midst of an extremely stressful and messy situation, and despite his own wishes he cannot prevent his emotions from affecting his actions. laurent has had control over so much of the situation with damen thus far, both with the power dynamics between them as master and “slave” and the fact that damen didn’t know that laurent knew who he was. but now laurent knows that damen knows, so all of his previous and future actions are going to be under damen’s scrutiny in that context. they’re equals now, and the secrets reinforcing laurent’s prior cognitive dissonance have dissolved. that leaves laurent vulnerable (especially after being tortured and genuinely letting damen down even if by accident) and emotional compromised (he has no choice but to see damen as damianos, and with that comes all of the auguste baggage and the fact that they’ve already fallen in love and had sex under different circumstances).

all that is to say, the next few chapters are laurent’s mean girls era. he is, again, still being smart and strategic (4d chess), and his feelings are valid and his trauma is real. however, he is also just being MEAN, for the same reasons classic high school movie mean girls tend to be: he feels insecure and vulnerable about his romantic attachment to damen, stressed out by the insane amount of power he definitely should not have, and self-righteous about all the ways the world has conspired against him. regina george might have been the villain of the movie, but she was the hero of her own story. janis and cady methodically dismantled her life as a popular, powerful, and confident person. that’s why she got revenge with the burn book instead of looking inward and acknowledging her own issues, of which there were many. she had a machiavellian view of life, in which mean people always won, and so being mean in retaliation was how she could protect herself from being a victim.

that is laurent’s perspective too, for a lot of this series. we don’t know anything about regina’s backstory, or heather chandler’s (another great example), but we do know exactly why laurent has the worldview he does. he used to be sweet and it made him a victim. so he is mean to protect himself, even if that robs him of his sweetness. damen’s integrity and honor have challenged laurent’s worldview, though, and that has been the source of a lot of laurent’s slow reconsideration. but now that laurent can’t just pretend that damen isn't damianos, now that he has to accept this situation in its full interpersonal and political messiness, he isn’t nearly as inspired. laurent assumes, now that laurent has gone “mask off,” that damen will realize that laurent doesn’t deserve the love he has shown him in the past. because laurent has been mean to damen, by lying about his awareness even at the times damen thought he was being earnest and sweet. that makes damen a victim and fool—two things laurent deeply fears being, and therefore assumes everyone else also fears in themselves. two things the regent had wanted laurent to consider himself, by placing damen in his life in the first place.

therefore, in his insecurity and vulnerability and anger, as a 20 year old just experiencing his first love, as someone with a lot of power and stress who cannot waste time or energy on genuinely confronting his own flaws in good faith, laurent is gearing up to be sososososo mean to damen specifically in the next few chapters. like comedically mean. aimlessly mean. pathetically mean. on purpose. ultimately, if he must be alone (which he obviously must, says laurent's brain), laurent would rather be the villain of someone else’s story than a victim in his own. that, at least, is similar to book 1 laurent—but while he was a cat playing with a mouse in book 1, in a position to do serious damage to his opponent, now he’s more like…. a cat, slapping another cat. evenly matched, but still throwing hands. transparently insecure and pathetic, only effective in doing emotional damage in ways he doesn’t intend. damen isn’t hurt by the petty things laurent says and does, because he sees through them for what they are. he’s hurt because laurent sees them as necessary to protect himself and keep his distance, when all damen wants is to make things okay between them. which laurent would never expect, because he assumes that damen wants nothing to do with him, and would be happier and better off if they stayed apart.

basically: unstoppable force (damen's persistent caring) meets unmovable object (laurent's refusal to be genuinely cared for). the only way for this cycle to end is for damen to choose to stop, or for laurent to choose to yield. laurent will eventually make that choice, but he still has to be a huge bitch about it first. he's going to lash out at damen and challenge him to stop caring, but ultimately fail—both because damen is just built different, and because he's lowkey written as a fantasy partner for emotionally volatile people with attachment and abandonment issues.

rest assured, laurent’s genre is still psychological thriller, but it’s also now a high school drama movie. and damen is about to get a bitter taste of that, with pretty much no choice in the matter. this poor man will have to deal with laurent’s bitchy theatrics as they try to co-parent an army, and he’s already too emotionally invested and aware of laurent’s habit of lashing out when he’s in pain to genuinely fight back.

this could also be called laurent’s s1 catra era, but i’m not sure what the venn diagram of capri and she ra enjoyers looks like. to those who get it—laurent is doing what catra did at princess prom for the next several chapters, down to the “hey adora” = “hello lover.” this dynamic is very fun to read because it doesn’t overstay its welcome. it’s different from laurent in book 1, or catra in general, because it’s so clearly pathetic, damen and laurent are on the same side of the war, and damen could technically make it stop at any point. so i think it’s very very fun, while it lasts >:)

The herald reined in in front of him. Damen looked at the mare’s shiny coat, not dirt-covered, not heaving or darkened with sweat, and then at the herald’s livery, in immaculate condition, unflecked by the dust of the road. He felt it rising at the back of his throat. ‘Where is he?’

damen showed up to the prom laurent planned with him to unite their rival high schools, only to find himself dateless and laurent’s promised fancy party decorations missing. this is the moment where damen checks snapchat (i was in high school from 2013-2017) and sees everyone from vere high at their own immaculately-decorated prom, where laurent is being crowned king. little does damen know, laurent was blindsided by the vere-only prom and forced via social pressure to be there since everyone elected him prom king. they’re mad at each other for a high school drama pacing-typical period of time, and then make up when they realize the misunderstanding and reassert their dedication to each other.

laurent did still murder someone with a chair, though. but like a metal folding chair from the band room

The herald’s back hit the ground. Damen had dragged him bodily from his horse into the dirt, where he lay dazed and winded, with Damen’s knee in his stomach. Damen’s hand was around his neck.

His grip tightened before it opened enough to allow the herald to speak. The herald rolled onto his side and coughed as Damen released him. He pulled something from inside his jacket. Parchment, with two lines on it. You have Charcy. I have Fortaine. He stared at the words, written in familiar, unmistakable handwriting. I’ll receive you at my fort.

lamen hr complaint #5 (unnamed herald): ragdolling this guy over what should be impersonal, professional correspondence

also, because i can't help myself:

Fortaine eclipsed even Ravenel, powerful and beautiful, its towers high-flung, its jutting crenelles biting the sky. It rose to a sheer, impossible height and, from every vantage, it was flying Laurent’s banners. The pennants seemed to float on the air effortlessly, patterned silk in blue and gold.

WELCOME HOME, BROTHER KILLER

Rows upon rows of peaked, coloured tents were pitched on the field outside Fortaine’s walls, the sun lighting the pavilions, the banners, and the silks of a graceful encampment. It was a city of tents, and it camped a fresh, intact force of Laurent’s men, who had not fought and died through the morning. The constructed arrogance of the display was intentional. It said, exquisitely: Did you exert yourself at Charcy? I have been here examining my nails.

this is funny and i wouldn’t put it past laurent, but also i’m not sure if he like. really meant this part of it specifically to piss damen off. he was just tortured idk he probably just wanted things nice. a good part of the fun of lamen divorce era is remembering that damen’s interpretation of events isn’t necessarily accurate, and that it’s hilarious how he interprets things as petty personal slights even when they might not be. they’re both so obsessed with each other and it’s great

Nikandros reined in alongside him. ‘Uncle and nephew are alike. They send other men to do their fighting for them.’

nik tweets this verbatim on priv (#3)

Damen was silent. What he felt in his chest was a hardness like anger. He looked at the elegant silken city and thought about men dying on the field at Charcy.

but not exactly anger—betrayal? heartache? self-consciousness?

Some kind of herald’s greeting party was riding towards them. He gripped the Regent’s bloody, torn banner in his hand.

the phrase “greeting party” just made me imagine them rolling up with like confetti and a speaker blasting the celebration song. while damen holds the bloody torn banner

‘Just me,’ said Damen, and put his heels into his horse. About halfway across the field, he was met by the herald, who arrived with an anxious party of four attendants saying something urgent about protocol. Damen listened to four words of it. ‘Don’t worry,’ said Damen. ‘He’s expecting me.’

lamen hr complaint #6 (more unnamed heralds): disregarding protocol

(also “he’s expecting me” girlllll)

Without even pulling off his gauntlets, he strode to the tent. He knew its high scalloped folds; he knew the starburst pennant. No one stopped him. Not even when he reached the tent and dismissed the soldier at the entrance with a single order: ‘Go.’ He didn’t bother to see if his order was obeyed. The soldier let him through: of course he did; this had all been planned. Laurent was ready for him whether he came docilely behind the herald or, as he did now, the dirt and the sweat of the battle still on him, blood dried in the places where a cursory swipe with a cloth had not reached it. He swept the tent flap back with an arm, and stepped inside.

again i do have to question, beyond the drama, how much of this is as intentional and petty as damen thinks it is. like, the heralds literally cite protocol, damen knows this is the correct way for a camp to be run. i think he is assuming a lot here, although it’s reasonable to do so. we have seen in the past that damen assumes things of laurent that laurent is just like, “uh. not everything i do is on purpose” about, or damen is just WRONG about. i just wonder if damen’s approach here confirms things laurent was worried about (damen thinking poorly of him now that they’re on even ground), further fueling the fire of his rejection-sensitive bitchiness. not that it’s an excuse, or even undeserved, but it’s good to remember that there are two sides to the story.

like to damen, this is an angry post-battle rush of a moment to confront laurent and speak his truth (he doesn’t know laurent knows who he is), but to laurent this is like. post-torture and escape, and basically being thrown into the deep end of vulnerability with damianos and what this all implies to auguste’s memory. we’re not getting the best or most rational version of either of them right now, which is great for the drama but also makes the narration less reliable

This was the place Laurent had chosen.

right. damen thinks laurent chose this place to hear the truth about him, because the “you have charcy” note implies that at some point laurent probably figured out that damen is damianos. therefore laurent chose this occasion for them to meet each other, as they truly are by birth, for the first time. damen just doesn’t know the twist that laurent has always known who he’s been, and has chosen everything else before now with that knowledge too

There were a few furnishings, low seats, cushions, and in the background a trestle table hung with its own coverings, and set with shallow bowls of sugared pears and oranges. As though they were going to nibble at sweetmeats.

the same guy who ordered the “sorry you were given a severed head and discovered a suicide” fruit basket in prince’s gambit had to order a “sorry i gaslighted you for 2 books but not really because you also technically gaslighted me” fruit basket in kings rising

He lifted his gaze from the table to the exquisitely attired figure leaned with a single shoulder against the tent pole, watching him.

lucky number laurent lean #13!

Laurent said, ‘Hello, lover.’

It was not going to be simple.

this being the follow-up line to “hello lover” is such a good combination of funny and tension-building. like laurent’s cunty tableau immediately put out damen’s fiery righteous indignation and now he’s just like “oh this is going to suck.”

He made himself breathe through that. ‘Your men think you’re a coward. Nikandros thinks that you deceived us. That you sent us to Charcy, and left us there to die by your uncle’s sword.’ ‘And is that what you think?’ said Laurent. ‘No.’ Damen said, ‘Nikandros doesn’t know you.’

this is really a testament to pacat’s cleverness, how in chapter 1 there are a lot of moments where it’s almost like damen is directly saying he thinks laurent screwed him over—nikandros and the herald saying it and him not disagreeing, him accepting the reality that laurent is not going to show up—but he never does truly say that he thinks the abandonment was on purpose. because he didn’t, and he doesn’t, which makes sense. but he’s still angry and confused and also just concerned about how laurent is taking the “news” that he’s damianos. how much of damen’s anger about laurent’s composed appearance is projection of his anxiety about laurent seeing him as he truly is, a powerful authority figure in his own right who just won a battle against insane odds?

it’s so ambiguously written that it’s almost like pacat WANTS us to spiral. which i did, and will probably continue to do, so well-played. these books are like evil catnip to anxious overthinking theater people with attachment issues and an interest in understanding complex fictional situations to cope with the fact that real life never makes enough sense. also kinky gays but let's be real that's just a trojan horse for the other stuff

‘And you do.’ Damen looked at the arrangement of Laurent’s weight, the careful way he was holding his body. Laurent’s left hand was still casually resting against the tent pole. Deliberately, he stepped forward, and clasped Laurent’s right shoulder. Nothing, for a moment. Damen tightened his grip, and ground in with his thumb. Harder. He watched Laurent turn ashen. Finally, Laurent said, ‘Stop.’

proving that he knows laurent well enough to pick up from his posture alone exactly where he’s been injured. also they’re both so messy, like let’s put pressure on each other’s literal and figurative wounds instead of just talking about our misconceptions and feelings, awesome

He let go. Laurent had wrenched back and was clutching his shoulder, where the blue of his doublet had darkened. Blood, welling up from some newly bandaged, subterranean place, and Laurent was staring at him, his eyes oddly wide. ‘You wouldn’t break an oath,’ said Damen, past the feeling in his chest. ‘Even to me.’

damen proving to himself, and proving to laurent, that he knows that laurent didn’t screw him over, and instead was injured and failed to show up. laurent is shocked by how quickly damen picked up on this. also ow

He had to force himself back.

he doesn’t want to see laurent in pain, or know that he’s causing it :( which is especially unfortunate given the conversation they’re about to have about damen murdering laurent’s brother

Laurent didn’t answer. He still had a hand clutched to his shoulder, his fingers sticky with blood. Laurent said, ‘Even to you?’

“you wouldn’t break an oath, even to me” (“even to me” being a sort of freudian slip, meaning “i killed your brother, and i’ve known that this whole time and i haven’t told you, and you have a good reason to hate me for that”) “even to you?” (to damen’s incomplete understanding: “well i know who you are now, and if i’d known before i would have broken every oath to you i’ve ever made”)

He made himself look at Laurent. The truth was an awful presence in his chest.

babygirl it’s about to get so much awfuller

He thought of the single night they had spent together. He thought of Laurent, giving himself, dark-eyed and vulnerable, and of the Regent, who knew how to break a man.

damen totally sees laurent as his “victim” right now, set up well by him re-opening laurent’s physical wound. damen fucked this man while knowing that he (damen) killed his (laurent’s) brother, and put trust in him. if they were normal, or this was a normal story, that’s where the confrontation would end. it would be that simple—damen didn’t mean to hurt laurent but still did, and laurent has to forgive him for that, and forgive himself for being fooled—and then it would get tearfully resolved because they love each other so much that it doesn't matter. but they are not normal, and this is not a normal story, so…

Outside, two armies were poised to fight. The moment was here, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He remembered the Regent’s constant suggestion: Bed my nephew. He had done that, wooed him, won him. Charcy, he saw, hadn’t mattered to the Regent. It hadn’t meant anything. The Regent’s real weapon against Laurent had always been Damen himself.

damen thinks the regent’s plan had been to weaken laurent by putting him in circumstances where he’d unknowingly make himself vulnerable with his brother’s killer, triggering him emotionally and destroying his judgment. i'm pretty sure that this was basically his intention, but had also made sure that it would also torture laurent even if he did recognize damen on the spot.

personally i think the regent knew that laurent knew in book 1 through observing his reaction, but had planned for both possibilities in advance. what he hadn't expected, though, was for laurent and damen to start genuinely working together instead of against each other. this happens early as the thing with patras, and really pops off during the botched assassination attempt.

charcy was meant to drive a wedge between them, to correct the regent's previous miscalculation. and given the inevitable truth damen must now reveal, there's nothing he can really do to stop laurent from being upset.

‘I’ve come to tell you who I am.’ Laurent was so keenly familiar, the shade of his hair, the strapped down clothing, the full lips that he held tense or cruelly repressed, the ruthless asceticism, the unbearable blue eyes. ‘I know who you are, Damianos,’ said Laurent. Damen heard it, as the interior of the tent seemed to change, so that all of the objects in it took on a different shape. ‘Did you think,’ said Laurent, ‘I wouldn’t recognise the man who killed my brother?’

the way i YELLED during my first read. i remember even like posting something before, like “oh my god damen just tell him put this poor man out of his misery,” and then after i got to this part i immediately went and deleted that post

Each word was an ice chip. Painful, sharp; a shard. Laurent’s voice was perfectly steady.

do you think he practiced this?

‘I knew in the palace, when they dragged you in front of me,’ said Laurent. The words continued, steady, relentless. ‘I knew in the baths when I ordered you flayed. I knew—’

he definitely practiced this

‘At Ravenel?’ said Damen.

“you knew when you kissed me and let me fuck you????”

‘If you knew,’ said Damen, ‘how could you—’ ‘Let you fuck me?’ His own chest hurt, so that he almost didn’t notice the signs of it in Laurent, the control, the face, pale at any time, now white.

he almost didn’t notice the signs, which means he still totally did. because even now, damen is attentive and caring towards laurent

‘I needed a victory at Charcy. You provided it. It was worth enduring,’ Laurent spoke the terrible, lucid words, ‘your fumbling attentions for that.’

LIARRRRRRR

It hurt so much it took the breath from his throat. ‘You’re lying.’ Damen’s heart was pounding. ‘You’re lying.’ The words were too loud. ‘You thought I was leaving. You practically threw me out.’ He said it, as the realisation blossomed inside him. ‘You knew who I was. You knew who I was the night we made love.’

tbh i think this kind of realization would make me have a panic attack on the spot. also do you think this is the kind of betrayal he’s been trying so hard to avoiding confronting, coming from kastor and jokaste? but here he has no choice to confront it, because laurent is forcing him to understand the depths of the deception. no avoiding it now

He thought of Laurent surrendering, not the first time, but the second, the slower, sweeter time, the tension in him, the way he had— ‘You weren’t making love to a slave, you were making love to me.’

very true, but laurent isn’t ready to deal with it. he can’t keep up the cognitive dissonance in the present, but that doesn’t mean he’s about to accept that it was real in the past. instead he’ll just lash out.

And he couldn’t think that through clearly but he could catch a glimmer of it, a glimmer of the edge of it. ‘I thought you wouldn’t, I thought you’d never—’

OF COURSE damen suspected, at some points, that laurent knew. but this tells us that he’d ultimately dismissed the notion because it would have been insane for laurent to kiss and fuck him, while knowing his real identity. “i thought you wouldn’t, i thought you’d never—“

this is similar to how i thought about it during my first read—i suspected for all of book 1, and some of book 2, but then figured that the story was taking a different direction because how the hell could the plot points of “laurent knows who damen is” and “laurent makes himself vulnerable to damen and does a romance/sex about it” possibly be compatible? laurent, a deeply traumatized and self-protective person, wouldn’t and would never. except i underestimated laurent’s capacity for self-delusion, and overestimated the amount of control he truly has over his emotions and impulses, beneath all the posturing. damen, here, is recognizing that he’s made similar miscalculations, and now he’s seeing laurent as he truly is. they’re both seeing each other, truly, for the first time.

‘Laurent, six years ago, when I fought Auguste, I—’ ‘Don’t you say his name.’ The words were forced out of Laurent. ‘Don’t you ever say his name, you killed my brother.’

i like the simplicity of this. just the plainness of “you killed my brother.” laurent’s language is so often clever and cagey and embellished, but that last sentiment is raw and informal, and what we the reader are probably screaming in our heads. because yeah, holy shit, damen killed laurent’s brother. it’s a pretty hard thing to argue against, or ignore. “you lied to me” “you killed my brother” “you flogged me” “you killed my brother” “you forgot to do the dishes” “you killed my brother”

Laurent was breathing shallowly, almost panting as he spoke, his hands rigid on the edge of the table behind him.

his practiced words are saying one thing, but his body is very obviously having a panic attack. this scene isn’t nearly as much of a laurent mean girl moment as it seemed during a rushed first read. that’s actually kind of a relief to me, bc it made me sad to interpret him as so heartless and unfazed the first time around. even if “hello lover” is an iconic moment, it’s a performance more than anything else. and pacat shows us this sooner than i recalled or first perceived. she’s not torturing us, the reader, as much as she’s torturing both damen and laurent. and it’s not even like a lazy misunderstanding kind of torture, this is genuinely complicated and they’re both in the wrong and they both are justified in this pain and hurt. i just couldn’t see that as well the first time, having binged like all of book 2 already and having no idea what would happen next and honestly just being shocked and betrayed and compelled by the massive mislead with laurent’s awareness of the situation

‘Is that what you want to hear, that I knew who you were and I still let you fuck me, my brother’s killer, who cut him down like an animal on the field?’

you know he doesn’t, laurent, that’s just what you’re telling yourself now that you’re forced to confront it. you started this scene with “hello lover” and your prepared speech, hoping to destroy damen emotionally, but once again you’ve just kinda played yourself. maybe just cool it with the emotional gambits for now, when it comes to damen, bc they only really seem to come back and hurt you (oh fuck he can’t hear me)

‘Shall I ask you how you did it? What he looked like when your sword went in?’ ‘No,’ said Damen.

laurent, shaking, pale, looks like he’s about to pass out: “you bastard, tell me about how you murdered my brother as i think about the fact that i let you fuck me in a similar way, go ahead just make it hurt more”

damen, not a therapist but still emotionally intelligent enough to know this isn’t really about punishing him: no, i don’t think i will. can you like sit down

‘Or shall I tell you about the illusion of the man who gave me good counsel. Who stood by me. Who never lied to me.’ ‘I never lied to you.’

that italicized “i” is interesting. is it an accusation of laurent’s own lying and hypocrisy, or a specification that damen never directly told laurent he wasn’t damianos? given damen’s well-established integrity, i’m guessing it’s the first option. again with the mutual moral arbitration. and damen wouldn’t want to take such a weak a cop-out as “well i never technically said it,” it’s just not typical of his character.

The words were awful in the silence that followed them. ‘“Laurent, I am your slave”?’ said Laurent. He felt the breath forced out from his lungs.

of course laurent takes it as the second option, though, and implies that by swearing himself to laurent and then bedding him damen was directly lying about his identity. because to laurent, damen =/= damianos. a slave can’t be a prince. so damianos, the prince, must have been intentionally lying about being damen, the slave. and that’s actually easier, and less painful, and less complicated to accept than any kind of nuanced alternative.

‘Don’t,’ he said, ‘talk about it like—’ ‘Like?’ ‘Like it was cold-blooded; like I controlled it. Like we didn’t both close our eyes and pretend I was a slave.’ He made himself say the exposing words. ‘I was your slave.’

he’s right. nothing much to add here. damen wasn't just literally laurent's slave, he had devoted himself emotionally as well, and he's admitting it here despite the fact that it makes him vulnerable—something laurent is too much of a (traumatized, understandable) coward to do himself. i love damen's characterization so much

‘There was no slave,’ said Laurent. ‘He never existed. I don’t know what manner of man stands before me now. All I know is that I am facing him for the first time.’ ‘He is here.’ His flesh ached as if he had been prised open. ‘We are the same.’

this gives us some insight to laurent’s actions in book 1—not necessarily excusing them, but making them fit better into what we’ve since learned about his moral code. it ties things together, which isn’t the same as making them simpler or easier to like. pacat is very very VERY good at establishing continuous moral ambiguity in her characters, and does not rush the slow burn of making ends meet. so when she does eventually begin to connect things, it’s satisfying, because it hasn’t been all been spelled out the whole time so readers don’t have to think for themselves. this, in reference to a lot of the series’s more problematic themes, is exactly why i think people end up seeing capri as apologism or glamorization. but by claiming that, i also think they’re exposing themselves as impatient, shallow, and (sorry) simply lazy.

but i don't just want to be reductive and uncharitable, because that would be shallow and lazy too. to be perfectly clear, i honestly can't blame people for disliking this series, and not being willing or able to have patience and understanding for its more problematic elements. this series is marketed as romance/erotica. it started as indulgent kink fic. it ended up evolving into its current state during its development—and i'm really glad it did, but that doesn't change the fact that so much of its marketing and premise imply certain things that it doesn't quite deliver. and if you look up the series today, as it's still being published years after its completion, it's still marketed in a way i find somewhat misleading. to the extent that when i picked it up, it was in an intentional attempt to expand my own horizons—i wanted to challenge myself with indulgent shameless problematic porn/romance, as opposed to the weak-ass "enemies" to lovers running rival bakeries gay romance novels with canva covers that haven't worked for me in the past. the logic was basically, "well, if i don't like romance on that side of the scale, maybe i'll like the opposite extreme, or at least learn more about what i don't like." and i did feel pretty challenged during book 1, to the point that for a while i only kept reading out of morbid curiosity and vague horniness rather than any genuine expectation of depth or satisfying storytelling. it was only around the assassination scene in book 1 that i started to see the book as something capable of more depth and intrigue than just like kinky debauchery, and it pretty much just snowballed from there. and as someone who frequently reads about these dark topics in other genres and contexts, i was familiar enough with the things happening on the page to at least stomach them and push foward.

however, if i was coming at the series from a different place—like if i loved cozy romance and had very little familiarity with reading about these topics—i can see the first book especially being very blindsiding and distressing, and not wanting to engage with it further. that's not laziness, it just means that the book wasn't for me.

and the nuance doesn't end there. one of the things i love most about this series is that, even if i was just looking for shameless slavekink porn and decidedly did not want to rise to the occasion of depth or thematic exploration, i would also walk away unsatisfied. because the truly problematic shit in these books is not shameless at all, and indulgence never comes without a cost. there are a few distasteful moments that make me roll my eyes, and the garden scene definitely prompts a Conversation—but as a whole, i think pacat is very aware of the moral implications of these themes. and i also think she's perfectly aware of the fact that many people get off on them.

this series almost feels like an accidental study of, like, the psychological implications of being a person compelled by dub-con and problematic kink, finding a sort of gratification in situations where those things ar kind of inevitable (like they are for damen in book 1). AND this is made even more complicated and brave by the fact that laurent is, very relevantly, a victim of serious sexual assault. like, as hot as some of the scenes in this book are, i really don't think it makes itself easy for people to just uncritically get themselves off to. it doesn't encourage shame, but it does encourage introspection. and a lot of people simply don't read erotica and romance to introspect. (couldn't be me though. if it isn't clear, i love the laurent of vere "having insane mindfucking sex fully clothed across the room" approach to eroticism).

i feel like it's actually kind of funny that i specifically got here, as a person who almost always reads books that force dark introspection, and assumed that this erotica/romance book would be mindless, but ended up with gestures vaguely instead. for me, coming across this series and realizing what it truly is was an incredibly happy accident. but for others, i completely understand how it could be the exact opposite, and it's not lazy or shallow to realize that you misunderstood what you were getting yourself into and step away.

what is lazy and shallow, though, is to either DNF and review based on those misconceptions, or keep reading simply to fuel your own disdain and discomfort. ultimately, i think that the true error of people who walk into capri wanting shameless porn or untroubling romance is the fact that they keep reading, even when it becomes clear that the book isn't doing that. and then they decide to evaluate the book based on expectations and standards that aren't the ones the author or fans have for the work itself. people seem to take out their anger towards the SUBJECTS of slavery or rape in fiction themselves on capri, rather then the way capri specifically portrays them. either because they fucking stopped reading the book and just wanted to go on a tangent on the topics in general, or hate-read to confirm their own pre-existing bias.

my point is, nobody has to read things that trigger or upset them, and it's okay to just pass on fictional stuff that makes you feel bad or frustrated. aspects of this series made me feel bad and frustrated, even on re-read, but i enjoy the intellectual and emotional exercise of exploring those feelings and better understanding the true meaning and purpose of the art. but there are certain topics in other works of fiction that i'm unwilling to explore, which would cause me to simply stop reading, and if asked for a review i'd just say that i'm not the right person to say. and there have been many times where i've continued reading a book, hoping it would change directions, and ended up just being like, "yeah, that wasn't for me," and moving on.

the exchange "there was no slave, he never existed" "here is here, we are the same" is almost a meta-commentary on the reception of the series as a whole. it would be dishonest to deny how this series started, and some of the themes and subjects it intentionally confronts. you can't say "there was no slave [kink], [it] never existed" because the narrative proceeded to be more of a commentary on kink rather than an uncritical display of it. kink, and dark topics in fiction in general, do all have depth, and while they might not be for everyone, they are for someone. exploring that depth is entirely optional, and i understand why people with certain experiences don't want anything to do with that exploration. but our personal tastes don't change the fact that subjects like slavery and rape exist, and that reality is inseparable from the stories that come from it. ultimately, the choice is whether we're willing to take that specific reality thoughtfully on, or else just walk away.

the people i have the hardest time with are the ones who choose neither of those options. like, what do you even get out of continuing to read something that you're unwilling to explore in good faith, or that you straight-up hate? just read something else. we only have so much time in the day. stop wasting yours, and stop wasting the time of people who actually enjoy the thing with your useless bad-faith criticism. sorry this tangent has totally departed from the chapter itself, but that really is what pisses me off so much about current-day online book culture. like, i'm thinking about all of those smug-looking booktubers making 2 hour videos called "i read [name of book that doesn't appeal to the lowest common denominator of people] so you don't have to." i know how long it takes to read books thoughtfully, and then to write, film, and edit videos. maybe stop wasting your own time and dig into something you love instead, or even try to make your own thing, and just hope that some smug asshole on the internet doesn't decide to do to your work what you've done to other people's work. but no, lazy cynicism and appealing to the easy gimmick of cringe is way more profitable, i guess. and it makes you less vulnerable to people criticizing work that came from your soul, because the work you're creating is completely soulless.

anyway. i wonder what kind of totally normal things damen and laurent are up to in the chapter i'm annotating

‘Kneel then,’ said Laurent. ‘Kiss my boot.’

"if you really are still a slave, even though we both know you’re a king, then do a demeaning slave thing right now"

He looked into Laurent’s excoriating blue eyes. The impossibility of it was like a sharp pain. He couldn’t do it. He could only gaze at Laurent across the distance between them. The words hurt. ‘You’re right. I’m not a slave,’ he said.

can’t indulge in the kink anymore by circumstantial necessity, but i’m sure they’ll find something even weirder to do instead on purpose

‘I am the King.’ He said, ‘I killed your brother. And now I hold your fort.’ As he spoke, Damen drew out a knife. He felt rather than saw all of Laurent’s attention swing to it. The physical signs were small: Laurent’s lips parted, his body tensed. Laurent didn’t look at the knife. He kept his eyes on Damen, who looked right back at him. ‘So you will parley with me as with a king, and you will tell me why you called me here.’ Deliberately, Damen tossed the knife onto the floor of the tent.

okay this is just extra of him, but i mean laurent got to do “hello lover” so damen deserves to be dramatic too as a treat. i also like what this symbolizes, as opposed to their previous knife moments. as defined by their stations, they don’t have a power imbalance anymore, and they don’t have a reason to be enemies. they are a prince and a king, not a master and a slave. they are military allies, teaming up against the regent. any power imbalance and beef they have now is emotional, complicated, and abstract, nothing clear-cut (haha) enough to be represented by an instrument of simple violence like a knife. and damen summarizes this perfectly, in the context of their previous knife moments, by viscerally reminding laurent of those encounters and then just tossing the thing across the room.

honestly, i bet laurent feels jealous of the clever performative gesture. and maybe a little turned on, too, despite the horrors. that’s a fun reversal.

‘Didn’t you know?’ said Laurent. ‘My uncle is in Akielos.’

yeah, he got a really good all-inclusive deal at the akielion sandals resort and needed a vacation after all of the murder and [redacted]

#sam reads capri #capri #captive prince #kings rising #laurent of vere #damen of akielos #lamen #i go on a long rant about capri's reputation and current day book reviewer culture in this one

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minhosimthings · 9 months ago

Text

A La Folie ft. Jay || Part 2

Synopsis: Wounds came and went. All in the circle of life am I right? The greatest warrior among all the kings, Park Jay. For him, seeing blood was like seeing the sky. It was a daily routine which he could not escape. Yes sometimes he had grave injuries, which he wouldn't stop to take care of, with him being a workaholic. But sometimes healers do more than heal physical wounds, and for Jay, you did exactly that.

Pairings: King!Jay × healer!fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, suggestive at the end, SMUT IN THE NEXT CHAPTER MY BABIES, mentions of food, mentions of abuse, reader has scars, mention of blood and violence, hurt/comfort, reader has a panic attack, Heeseung suffering a shit ton lmao I'm sorry hee

A/N: I am legit so sorry for the long wait my babies I wanted to make this as perfect as possible! Thank you for the notes on the first part YAY!!! And the next chapter has smut hehe 😏😏

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

The French Quotes Series Masterlist

Memories are said to be core parts of a person's life, no matter good or bad.

The only memories you had were of blood, broken glass, and destroyed homes.

Laughter had always seemed so frightening to you, it reminded you terribly of your mother and father's drunken laughter, as they put the belt to their daughter, just because she was a daughter.

Laughter was no longer how your older brother used to comb your hair, how he used to engulf you in his arms everytime the house was filled with things that a seven year old shouldn't be hearing.

Laughter and love, no longer seemed to exist, as you looked down on the bruises on your skin, and wondered when the last time someone had noticed it under all your setting powder was.

Oh right.

Just over an hour ago by the goddamn king of the place you lived in. The possibility of something going wrong was approximately zero, and yet your powder just had to melt off.

Now you were slumped against your bed, almost about to tear your hair out at how much you were regretting even signing up for an apprentice's position in the palace. At the time, when you were fifteen, it seemed the only possible solution, to get away from your home.

To get away from Jooyeon, atleast.

Knock knock knock.

You let out a loud groan at the sound of tapping on the door. Who on earth was calling for you now?

Checking the clock on the wall, you seethed. Begrudgingly getting up, you dragged yourself to the door, and opened it only to find-

"Your Highness!" You gasped, quickly bending into a curtsey at the light footed man standing before you, "Um..am I of any requirance?"

Heeseung chuckled, and pressed his hand to his chest, returning the respect but bowing to you and sweeping away a stray hair from his forehead.

"Jay just sent me over to you to find out if you were alright, Miss Y/N." He said, with the air of a holy messenger, "You seemed to have rushed out the door on his saying something. Did he offend you perhaps?"

"Oh." You breathed a sigh of relief, not realising your facial expression until you saw Heeseung's amused face looking at you, "Oh no! No absolutely not! No, it's um—its really my fault, sort of. Um—is-is he quite mad?"

Heeseung mused over the question for a bit, quietly laughing to himself at how flustered you were.

"Well I wouldn't say mad." Heeseung finally answered after what seemed like an eternity, "But I would say extremely confused and possibly bleeding out his bandages again."

"Fuck." You cursed under your breath, hoping Heeseung didn't hear what you said, "I'll see it to the matter straight away, Your Highness."

"Oh please, Miss Y/N, call me Heeseung." He winked flirtatiously at you, to which you wanted to slightly gag.

"Is it a custom for all Paradoxica kings to allow their nurses to call them by their names?" You chuckled, remembering how Jay so magnificently told you to call him by his name.

"Maybe just for the handsome ones." Heeseung jested, throwing you another wink, which you tried hard not to frown at.

As Heeseung's footsteps faded away, you turned to the door in front of you. Taking a deep breath, you strode forward and slowly opened the door, having the scent of musk hit your nostrils with a bang again, as your eyes fell upon Jay, sitting calmly against the bedframe with his bandages drenched in red.

"May I come in, Your Majesty?" You forced the sentence out, not daring to meet Jay's eyes. You heard a slight hum of approval, to which you sighed a breath of relief and strode in, immediately going to the tiny table you had set up in the corner of the room and getting your supplies to change Jay's bandages, not noticing how Jay's eyes were following your every movement.

Silence filled the room for many minutes as you went on with your routine of pressing the ointment against his wounds and wrapping them up in clean linen. You hadn't dared to lift your lids up to Jay, all the while you were touching his stomach.

"Who did that to you?"

The air stilled drastically, at Jay's cold question, which he offered in a bittersweet voice, and you knew he could see how you visibly froze, from the hair on top of your head down to your little toe finger.

"Pardon me, Your Majesty?" You said, pretending not to hear the question and quickly wrapping up your tools. But Jay was quicker.

"I said—" he leaned forward, to your figure sitting on the stool and he whispered dangerously in your ear,

"Who gave you that mark on your shoulder?"

Jay's suspicions proved true at your flinch at his tone. Leaning back to look at your face, he saw nothing but pure fear and a few tears. His thoughts immediately started to run wild.

"Forgive me." He sighed, "That was too far."

"It was." The words ran out before you could stop them, and a bit harsher than you had wanted.

"May I be please be excused?" You asked him, trying hard to ignore the pit in your stomach and the urge to throw yourself onto a bed and sob.

That night, you tried everything to fall asleep. Empty packets of chamomile were all strewn over the floor, the heavy scent of lavender candles floated in the air, and yet nothing was knocking you out.

Sleep came very late into the darkness and sleep came disturbed. You had no idea how many times your eyes cracked open and stared at the ceiling above because the nightmare just seemed too damn real to be a figment of your imagination. You wondered how it would have been like if you had stayed with Jay all night in his chambers, you had heard that Mrs.Chun often stayed with him when he was injured.

Secrets and secrets never to be untold, you started to write in your diary again, to kill your time, and hopefully drowse off as soon as your poem was completed.

Little did you know, a certain king was doing the same thing next door.

"So let me get this straight-" Sunghoon ran his fingers through his hair, "You have a very attractive woman your age tending to you, almost touching your abs, talking to you like you want to be talked to, smells like lavender, and an apparently suspicious bruise on her shoulder and you want to find out where that thing came from but she won't tell you?"

"Well when you say it that way." Jay glared at his fellow king, "And anyways I'm pretty sure she's upset with me right now, she practically ran out on me yesterday."

Sunghoon snickered and ran a hand through his hair again. "How are you holding up? With the injury and all?"

"It's much better than Y/N expects me to rest for." Jay scoffed, "Have you seen her out of her chambers when you were coming here?"

"I think she's in the infirmary." Sunghoon scratched his head, "One of the maids told me that she was busy."

If you were in the infirmary, the infirmary was where Jay would go. With a heavy breath, he lunged himself off of the bed and onto his feet, to the concerned brow raise of Sunghoon.

"Alright you should return to your palace now, doesn't the kingdom need you and all?"

"I don't think so." Sunghoon threaded his fingers into his locks, "It's a bright sunny day, Jongsoeng brighten up a bit!"

"If you touch your hair one more time Park Sunghoon, I will brighten up your funeral."

The infirmary was a place of healing. For both physical and mental wounds. For most of your teenage years, Mrs Chun had set about trying heal the latter, by immersing you into the art of healing others. It had been fascinating, you thought, the quiet of the stone walls and the cold air brushing against your skin with kisses you preferred. It made you forget your home.

So it wasn't a surprise that this was the place you came to early in the morning when the king had ordered your presence. You were currently working on a nightmare potion for yourself, trying to mix in some additionalities to make you dream about something else.

Your carefully measured out drops of cranberry juice caught your attention as the vibration from the sound of heavy steps coming from outside made it quiver ever so slightly.

Sighing to yourself when you heard the door knob's knock, you abandoned your chemicals and went towards the door, thankful for your infirmary outfit of trousers because they didn't drag behind you. Why couldn't you have worn this when you were tending to-

"Your Majesty!" You all but screamed, quickly bowing to the man in front of you, "uh....hi." you added awkwardly at the end.

"Hi." Jay replied back, "And I told you not to call me that. Just call me Jay it's fine."

"You're the goddamn king, I can't just call you by your first name." You retorted as Jay walked in and dropped into the chair by the table where your nightmare potion lay, "Do you need anything?"

"Entertainment." Jay replied promptly, curiously poking at some herbs, "Why don't you wear that often?"

"Pardon?" You said before looking down and realising what you were wearing. You quickly grabbed a blanket and covered your lower portion, "That wasn't meant for anyone's eyes."

"You look good." Jay winked, nibbling on the cilantro you had saved for the potion, "Is that a nightmare potion?"

"Mrs Chun told me you were horrible at potions." You laughed, letting do of the blanket and striding over to Jay, plopping down on the chair opposite to him, "Kudos to recognising the potion."

"She's exaggerating, you know how old women are these days."

"How old do you suspect I am?" You asked, curious as to the king's opinions on women's ages. Jay thought for a moment before speaking.

"Depends." He leaned forward and smiled, "How old do you think I am?"

"45." You answered with an air of pride to your voice, to which Jay gasped dramatically and put a hand to his chest.

"You wound me Y/N." He chuckled, "Healers are supposed to heal aren't they?"

"Well depending on how you take your tea with a jar full of honey, you're certainly an old man." You were uncontrollably laughing now, "We're the same age, 22."

There was a moment of silence, in which you silently took the potion away from his radius and into your hands, your eyes widening dangerously at the bubbling liquid.

"Damn it!" You said, wincing at the hot touch. You looked around frantically for something, anything, which could calm the potion down, while Jay looked on, confused at your doings. Nevertheless, he got up and started to look for whatever you wanted.

"What are we looking for?" Jay asked as you ripped open the cupboards, the potion was bubbling aggressively by now.

"Something that can calm the potion down!" You cried, trying to get your mind to think, something to neutralize liquid, "like a lemon, alkali something."

Jay knew nightmare potion was dangerous when it wasn't neutralized, poisoning the skin of those whose grasp it reached. He racked his brain, trying to remember what Mrs Chun had taught him.

"Oh how about that baking soda there!" Jay pointed, wincing slightly as he felt pressure against his wounds but he tried not to show it, "It's alkali is it not?"

You had no time to respond as you grabbed thd baking soda at the speed of lightning and poured it all into the potion. The aggravated liquid seemed to calm down, as the bubbles slowly faded away and the colour changes from green to its normal azure.

"Thank the fucking heavens." You sighed, plopping down on the table much to Jay's amusement, "Thank you, Jay."

"I don't think Mrs Chun would like the state of this room right now." Jay motioned to the floor, where powders and cupboards lay ripped open from your frantic try to find an alkali. He was right of course, Mrs Chun would have killed you. The baking soda was also finished.

"Ah damn." You said, not realising the amount of times you swore in front of the kind today, you had to go out and get new ones now. You started to pick up the bigger jars which were thankfully not broken and arrange them back, not noticing Jay doing the same thing behind you. When you did notice however you were horrified.

"Your Majesty sit down!" You commanded, forcing Jay down onto the chair, "You'll worsen the injury."

"But I want to help." Jay visibly pouted, adorable, you thought, "Please?"

"Absolutely not." You responded, five minutes away from tying him to the chair, "If you're that bored, we can talk, but under no circumstance am I allowing you to bend and work."

Jay considered his options and came to the conclusion that talking was the better option. He wanted to find out more about your mysterious ways of enchanting him so well, about that scar too....

"Shall I start then?" Jay asked, as you nodded and started on the mess again, "Favourite food?"

"That's the best question you could think of?" You scoffed playfully, nevertheless smiling at him, "Apricots. Alright my turn. Hm..allergies?"

"Peaches, which is a pity because I love peaches. Hobbies?"

"Most of the time, reading, but I like experimenting here in the infirmary." You said. You liked this conversation, it was peaceful, bouncing back on each other with questions of all kinds. There was laughter, teasing and perhaps the most happiness you had felt in a lot of time.

"Birds can take over the world, you can fight me on that."

"If I fought you over it, I'd probably lose." Jay laughed, holding his stomach from the amount of bird jokes you both had made in the past fifteen minutes.

"So any siblings?"

Jay's question made you freeze again into that familiar pose Jay had grown to hate now. He wondered whether it was something related to your family that you were making the nightmare potion for.

"I'm sorry, you clearly aren't comfortable with discussing it I won't bring it up agai-"

"No it's alright." You sighed, letting out a breath that felt like it had been caged forever somewhere, "I-Well I don't speak with my family anymore they weren't exactly the loving type, a-and I ran away when I was 14."

14. That was the age when Jay lost everything.

"Well I guess we have a lot in common then." Jay sent you a comforting smile. God he had a gorgeous smile, you wished you could see it on his face at all times of the day.

"That would be a horrible similarly wouldn't it?" You forced a kindred smile. Jay nodded at your statement, and picked up the cilantro again, bringing the smaller leaves to his mouth to chew.

"Well I'll leave you to your work." Jay slumped off of his chair, the pain in his bandages had decreased now, "Good day Y/N."

"Good day Your- I mean Jay."

Jay had no idea how he managed to reach his chambers, his feet managed to trace the path back, all that was on his mind was how much if a mystery you still were.

That night, he opened the glass case in his room for the first time in seven years, taking out the ruby dagger and admiring how much it felt like your touch.

"Hyung are you serious?" Jay's fingers massaged his temple, as Heeseung smirked.

Both of them were sitting outside, in the warm afternoon Sun after you had allowed Jay to go outside on making sure his bandages were healed. It had been a few days since the infirmary incident, and Jay had constantly sneaked up so many times and messed with your potions that you had to threaten to rip apart the infirmary and blame it on him when Mrs Chun returned. Jay had heard worse threats in his life, but never before had he actually listened to them than now.

Plus it was the only thing that could allow him to see you in your shirt and trousers fit which he adores so much, even if you glared at him while he made suggestions for a potion while sitting next to you. Granted, he had been useful sometimes, particularly the time, he carefully bandaged your hand when you got a nasty burn from some dragon scales.

Unbeknownst to him, you though he looked adorable, with his tongue stuck out in pure concentration, as he carefully pressed his fingers across yours. It bought a blush to your face.

"It's the only favour I ask of you Jay" Heeseung tried to put on his best boba eye impression, to manipulate Jay into asking you out on a date. To Heeseung's wedding.

"Why can't you ask?" Jay sighed, talking a sip of his lemonade.

"Because Y/N isn't making my heart beat at the pace of a cheetah, she's making yours." Heeseung smirked, "Wait isn't that her?"

Jay's head whipped around to look behind him, making a crack sound as it went. His eyes landed on someone in the distance, wearing an olive dress and a straw hat, carrying a wickerwork basket, possibly to pick some on the daffodils growing in the garden. Royal healers were always allowed to pick herbs in the garden, so that's what you were probably doing.

God you looked beautiful, Jay thought. It reminded him of earlier, happier days, of days when laughter echoed high through the walls and flowers bloomed. Especially lavender. Lavender, like his mother....

"Jay, you're staring." Heeseung coughed loudly, snapping Jay out of his euphoria.

In the distance, you were willing away your time by plucking out tiny bristles of daffodils, they would do you good in makin the nightmare potions again. It wad a pleasant day today and you hadn't expected Jay to come out, but there he was, sitting alongside Heeseung in a loose white shirt, open slightly at neck. You hoped fervently that there weren't any mind readers present at the scene, lest they read all your extremely unholy thoughts.

The last few days, were fun, happy even. You liked Jay making conversation with you at the infirmary. Sure he annoyed you sometimes, but you didn't think you had laughed this much in ages now. It felt like home, true home, which you hadn't ever known the feeling of.

The sound of loud coughing made you flinch as you turned around to see both the royals snap their heads into the distance from staring at you. Giggling to yourself, you began to walk towards them, basket full of daffodils in hand.

"Fuck she's coming here." Jay whispered, pretending to look busy in fishing the cilantro pieces out from his glass.

"And I thought I was the lovesick one." Heeseung rolled his eyes, quickly putting on his brightest smile, as he saw you approaching.

"Miss Y/N!" Heeseung bowed to you, trying to sound like he wasn't about to possibly ruin Jay's love life, "Are you doing well?"

"Perfect, Your Highness." You curtsied, noticing Jay still hiding his face, "Congratulations on the betrothal, Your Highness, or should I call you Heeseung?"

"You remember?" He shot you a cheeky smile, sitting down on his chair agin, as you sat down on the one a servant brought you, "Well I assume you are coming to the ball? I would be devastated if my darling Queen didn't meet you."

You chuckled and quietly shook your head. "I don't believe I was invited. Plus, i have no family or friend to go with."

"Oh what a coincidence! Jay doesn't either!" Heeseung said, in a fake cheery voice, as Jay groaned silently to himself and fervently wished to disappear from this moment. This was by far the weakest he had ever felt in all his life.

"Oh...um... That's sad?" You were uncertain on what to say. Heeseung took a deep breath, and reminded himself that he had to play Cupid properly.

"Yes it's so sad, don't you think it would so nice if you two went together?"

Perhaps the most frightening thing the birds heard that day was the sound of Jay's cough at Heeseung's sentence.

"Jay! Oh my god-" you panicked, bit Heeseung merely rolled his eyes and harshly patted Jay's back.

"Calm down idiot." Heeseung grumbled, and then turned back to you with a bright smile on his face, "Anyways, as we were saying, how about it Miss Y/N?"

"Well, for starters-" you said, with the air of a true healer, "I have to go out to town and get some supplies, the infirmary is nearly out. And secondly, it is a royal ball. I don't believe I have anything royal to wear."

"Oh pity, I think Jay knows a really good seamstress in town don't you Jay?" Heeseung smirked at a red eared Jay who was doing everything in his power to appear not flustered, "Plus weren't you going to go on your undercover rounds tomorrow Jay? Oh that's perfect! You and Y/N can go get the supplies in town, and get some measurements for her dress and voila! A perfect date to my wedding!"

That night, both you and Jay went to sleep peacefully, without scented candles or chamomile teas.

That night, a healer and a king couldn't wait for tomorrow's gift.

(And Heeseung slept, giggling next to his annoyed but loving wife)

"You look rather dashing." You giggled, clutching a basket tightly in your hand, and leaning against the door, admiring the figure of the man in front of you. Jay was clad in simple clothes today, a workman's attire. And he still looked more handsome that the devil himself.

"Oh shut up." Jay rolled his eyes, "You definetly look prettier."

"Where did you learn to impress a lady like that hmm?" You questioned, as Jay tried everything to adjust his collar and failed, "That's not how you press the fabric down idiot."

"First of all-" Jay glared playfully at you, "I didn't learn it just comes to me naturally" you scoffed at that, "Second of all you just called the king of tis kingdom an idiot. And third of all-" his eyes went round like the ones he used when he wanted something, "Can you adjust this collar please?"

"Idiot." You laughed, putting your basket down and walking over to him, your hands going up towards his unruly collar, "My idiot, unfortunately."

"Since when do healers get to own people?" Jay jested, feeling his entire world freeze at the soft touch of your hands. God you smelled like lavender and love.

Love? That four lettered word? Please, Jay mentally scoffed, it didn't exist.

But as Jay watched you, felt your fingers touching his neck, and your waist pressing against his, as you carefully adjusted the collar, in that very moment, he saw the most beautiful aspects of his life, and he knew he was helplessly in love. He craved your touch, your presence, your eyes stuck to his, anything with you. Was this the love his mother always spoke of?

"And I'm done!" You breathed a sigh of relief, the collar was hard to pull down, and you were relieved when it finally flattened. What you weren't expecting however, was Jay staring at you with widened eyes when you looked up from his neck.

"Um...Jay?" You said, waving your hand in front of him, "Earth to The great King Park Jongsoeng."

Your voice seemed to break Jay out of his temporary trance, as he quickly blinked his eyes and popped his lips together. "We should go." He said, much to your relief.

"Hey wait a second." You stopped him from exiting. Your fingers went up to his hair and quickly ruffled it, making it look messy and unruly

"There." You presented proudly, "now you look like a true town person."

Something in Jay told him that this day would go in a second as all good days went.

Jay had never before gone on his monthly undercover trip to the town, accompanied by anyone else. He feared it would blow his cover to the people. The trip always benefited him, he would get some delicious food, a day without guards, a day with peace, and a free survey of the citizens' wellbeing.

Today was different. He had no interest in looking at the wellbeing of the people, nor on the food. All he cared about was you.

You, with your head held high, easily chatting up the store owners, bargaining for the price of powdered dragon scales and smiling wide at the tiny child who had run up to you and have you a tiny sunflower blossom.

His heart was weak, fragile around you, it contained lovesick blood which he hadn't ever held before. Your hearty laughter, your hair moving in harmony with you and the contagious joy you spread to the people in the bustling market, it made Jay's knees buckle.

"Jongsoeng come on!" You cried, walking perhaps fifteen steps ahead of Jay. He had to jog to keep up. You were calling him by his actual name, since most people outside of royalty didn't know his real name.

"Did you get everything?" Jay panted, peering into your full basket. You nodded.

"Yep! I even got the cilantro you like chewing so much like a cow." You giggled, holding up a few leaves to his mouth, "Say ahh" you teased him as if you were feeding a child.

"Ahhh" Jay opened up his mouth and pushed the cilantro into his mouth, much to your surprise. You flinched slightly at his cold touch.

"Delicious." Jay smacked his lips together dramatically, "Anyways shall we get going?"

"Please don't tell me we're going to some shoe shop, I detest the smell of leather." You groaned, earning a look from Jay.

"That is by far the weirdest thing I've ever heard." Jay chuckled, "And we're going to the best seamstress of this kingdom darling, so keep your socks on."

Your heart fluttered uncontrollably at his nickname.

"Ah my King. Welcome!" A well dressed woman, with her hair tied into a fishtail greeted Jay and you. You assumed she was the Chaeryoung from "Chaeryoung's Seams", signboard outside which indicated her grand castle of a shop. This, according to Jay, was where all the aristocrats obtained their clothes.

"Chaeryoung, I assume you are well?" Jay pressed a kiss to her hand, a custom for most unmarried men, but delivering a pang of jealousy to your heart.

"I do not care about my wellbeing right now, Your Majesty. All I care about-" she shifted her pretty, cat-like eyes to you, "-is this beauty standing before me."

You felt your cheeks heat up at Chaeryoung's complement. You? A beauty? Impossible it seemed, especially next to a pretty woman like Chaeryoung.

"I am Y/N." You curtsied, "You are quite gorgeous yourself, Miss Chaeryoung."

Chaeryoung let out a giggle and blushed red in her ears, turning to Jay. "You found someone quite like yourself, Your Majesty."

"Oh please." You scoffed playfully, "I am much more handsome than him, don't you think?"

To Jay, that was more of a complement than an insult, especially when it came from your mouth.

You stayed in Chaeryoung's shop until the sky darkened. She wouldn't let you go until you tried on every combination she asked you to.

Jay was quite useful in this, you thought, giving Chaeryoung recommendations on necklines and earings and whatnot.

A memory which stayed particularly on your mind, was when you stepped out in a beautiful dress, which hugged your body perfectly, with a neckline that could send any man to heaven if he looked at it.

Any man meant Jay too, who thought he would combust if he saw you on any more dresses. He swore he could have seen pixies sparkling their magic dust over you.

"How does this look?" You stood in front of Jay with a big smile on your face.

"Spin for me." Jay said, standing up, to assess the dress more properly, as you spun, the fabric seemingly obeying your every command and spinning with you like a Scottish Fold's tail. Could you get any prettier?

"I swear to god if you don't get this dress, I will open my bandages." Jay said dramatically, much to Chaeryoung's pleasure who nodded and rushed out of the room, to get your measurements.

"Do I look good?" You asked again, a bit uncertainly this time.

"Good?" Jay scoffed, "You look like the prettiest person on earth."

"You sure know how to make a girl blush, are you sure you haven't had practice?" You giggled, spinning one more time in the dress to admire yourself. You loved the way the fabric felt against your skin, it hugged it in a way that all your scars didn't hurt too much. A perfect dress, you thought.

Perfect. Until you looked down at your collarbone.

Fate has its ways, dear reader. And it has many ways for misfortune.

"Oh no-no no no." You swore under your breath. Well that is, if you were even breathing. You were panicking, and panic attacks weren't exactly cotton candy flavoured for you. You could feel your throat tighten up and your peripheral vision blend out.

You felt cold all around, you felt the harsh words of little girls and the screams of your parents. You felt Jooyeon too....

"Hey hey Y/N, calm down." You could hear Jay's voice faintly behind you, but you couldn't bring yourself to focus on anything.

Jay was worried, extremely worried. He hadn't ever seen you panic like this before. Sure you had a few stressful mishaps in the infirmary, but this? Never before. Jay was confused as to why you were currently supporting your entire weight on him but he took one look down at your collarbone and he knew.

"Y/N, darling, I need you to breathe for me." Jay whispered in your ear, unsure of what to do. His hands trailed down to your waist, while one supported your shoulder.

"Shh, I'm right here, I'm right here calm down." Jay coached you, tracing shapes along your neck, which worked effectively.

"I-" you kept your sob in your throat, "I need something to c-cover..."

You felt a warm sort of cloth wrap around your shouder, Jay's jacket.

"Calm down now." Jay whispered again, hearing faint footsteps in the distance, "I'll distract Chaeryoung, you run."

"Your bandages aren't bleeding much, I think they're healed.." You clicked your tongue, pressing against Jay's wounds.

"You sound worried though, darling." Jay said, his eyes never leaving you even as you got up and settled your supplies down.

"You know I won't ever stop worrying about you." You chuckled, sitting opposite him on the bed, with two cups of chamomile. Drinking tea with Jay at night seemed to relax your nerves.

"So..."

"So?"

"Would you like to talk about what happened?"

You bit your lip at his question, savouring the taste of the chamomile for a while.

"Would you really like to know?" You sighed, putting your tea down, "You've been curious over it for a lot of days."

"I would like to know whether you want Jooyeon killed or tortured." Jay calmly sipped his tea.

Jooyeon.

How did he know?!

"How-" you raised your eyes to him, "Do you know about Jooyeon?"

"I'm a King, darling." Jay chuckled, his eyes seemed more dangerous than ever, "I know everything."

"If you knew everything, then why did you ask me?" You said, your tone laced with venom.

Jay's eyes softened. "I know who he is but I don't know what he did to you, darling." He toyed with his empty cup, "and I wanted to know why you hide that scar."

"Because it's ugly!" You cried out, slamming your teacup onto the table next to you, you were surprised it didn't break, "Because everyone I've ever met in my life recoils from it whenever they see it and for some fucking reason you didn't and it's just so weird!"

The air stilled again in that familiar manner, and flashes of memories came into Jay's mind.

'Mum why do you hide your shoulder?'

'its not as beautiful as the rest of me, Jay. Why do you ask?'

'You're still pretty to me mum!'

Your memories on the other hand, were entirely different.

The sound of glass....

The smell of blood....

Jooyeon's grip on your thigh.....

"Y/N, love-"

"I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have-"

Jay's hand buried you into his chest, as your sob ripped through the air like a siren. He could feel his shirt become damp but he didn't give a single damn. All he cared about was how you were practically shaking apart in his arms.

Your shattered words of 'Im sorry!' broke his heart into tatters and he felt like he was 13 again, listening to his mother son and him not being able to do anything.

Except this time, he could.

In the quiet moments of vulnerability, you shared your fear with him, trusting him with your deepest secrets. And as Jay held you in his arms, he realized that he had become your safe haven, and his love for you blossomed in that tender embrace.

"Y/N, love, look at me?" Jay tilted your head up to him, grabbing your chin with his finger. Your tear stained eyes looked up at him with nothing but calm trust. You did trust him. And love him too.

As your eyes met, a sense of familiarity washed over you. It was as if your souls had known each other in a different time and place. In that profound connection, you realized that the fates had pulled their strings again love unfurled within you.

"I-I want to-"

"Do it."

That's all Jay needed, for him to crash into you and create a magnificent firework display, maybe only he could see all the sparkles and colours. Jay could taste sweet moonlight and honey on your lips. Blood rushed to his heart, which pumped it ever so fastly, it was about to explode out of his chest.

He craved this, he craved it as a battlefield craved blood or as a nightmare potion craved alkali. Ribbons of love and hope rushed out of his neck, where your arms wrapped, sinking into him, with pure trust and love.

Was this the love the poets spoke of?

Maybe not, Jay thought, but he didn't care anymore. This was the love he now wanted, he never wanted to let go of it.

Perhaps he never would.

Silence fell like darkness, as you pulled away slowly, still keeping your eyes close for a second. You couldn't believe what on earth had just happened. Jay couldn't either.

“That felt like a crime against humanity.” you broke the silence, with your serious statement.

The seriousness didn't last long, when Jay looked into your eyes, you looked into his, and the both of you burst out laughing.

"Was that your first kiss?" Jay teased, his fingers were threading through your hair, relaxing you.

"Yours too?" You retorted.

Amidst the moonlight, no one would have suspected that a healer and a king would be laughing raucously, looking at each other with nothing but love, something they never experienced before.

“I mean, I could do with some more of that.” you said shyly, feeling a blush creep up to your face.

"Why don't we then, darling?"

Next chapter coming soon!

Tags: @amazzwon @heeseungshim @kvmariii @mwahvvis @hottiewifeyyyy @sacrificeatmeup @perfectnighttt @yawnzzhoon @yunabi436 + send an ask to be tagged!

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callsign-muffin · 3 months ago

Text

Heal Together: Chapter 3

(Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fic)

I kinda want to make a playlist for this fic with all the music I mention in it. But I also work crazy hours and my writing time is my time to relax, so I don't know if I want to add something else on top of it if no one would care, ya know?

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.8k

“He started talking a little more last night.” Carly smiled after she finished giving you report, “He didn’t say much to me besides ‘thank you’ and asking for whatever he needed. Maybe you’ll be able to get more out of him, you guys seem to have really good rapport.”

“He responded very well to my sarcasm. Patient’s often don’t so it was a nice change.” You shrugged.

“Do you think he’s gonna be transferred to a step down unit?” She asked.

You nodded, “Yeah and I’ll miss him. It was nice having a patient I could actually interact with.”

Carly’s eyes widened, “What kind of ICU nurse are you? We love ‘em intubated and sedated.”

“A tired one!” You stated, “I need a few more sips of coffee and then let’s go sign off meds.”

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

Rooster was only slightly awake when Y/N and Carly entered the room to finish their morning sign off. They didn’t turn on the light, spoke in soft whispers, and used the glow of the computer screen as their light. He turned over groggily, as his vision cleared, he saw Y/N there. She looked so beautiful with her hair pulled back messily in a claw clip and her bright eyes quickly traveled back and forth as she compared the medications hanging on the IV pole with the computer. She moved about the space as if she owned it. Hell, with the way she’s helped Bradley the last 48 hours, she practically does own it.

“Good morning, Bradley.” She smiled down at him sweetly, “How ya feeling’?”

“Not too shabby.” His voice was still a bit raspy.

She feigned surprise, “Ah! He speaks!”

Rooster smiled up at her, “Soon you’ll be wishing I had that tube back down my throat to shut me up.”

She shook her head, ��Never.”

“I see Carly removed your catheter last night.” Y/N inquired after finishing her head to toe assessment on Bradley.

He nodded, “About 2 hours ago at 5 in the morning. It was fucking awkward having someone 10 years younger than me touch my dick.”

Y/N snorted trying to hold back a belly laugh, “I hate to break it to ya but that girl is more than 10 years younger than you.”

His face dropped in horror, “Holy shit, that’s a child!”

“She has the same license I do.” You shrugged, “She’s absolutely qualified to do what she does.”

“Unbelievable!” Rooster playfully rolled his eyes.

Y/N slightly pivoted the conversation, “You feel strong enough to get up and pee? Or do you need something to use while in bed?”

“Like a bottle?” He questioned.

She nodded, “We call it a bedside urinal but it’s the same idea.”

He nodded, “Yeah, I’ll try and get my ass up.”

“Good choice. You wanna try now?”

Bradley thought for a minute, “I mean… I probably should…”

“Alright champ, let’s do it nice and slow.” She moved his tray table out of the way.

He looked around, “Can you give a man get some privacy?”

“Not when you’re fresh off the vent. I’m not risking you falling ‘cause you have a shy bladder!” She rolled her eyes jokingly.

He grinned playfully, “Don’t go checking out my junk.”

“Already seen it and I wasn’t planning on doing it again.”

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

“Alright Lieutenant, looks like you’re cleared for transfer down to a medical observation floor.” A different older doctor from yesterday said with his posse of residents, “Glad to see you’re on the mend.”

“Me too, sir.” Bradley agreed.

The same resident from the day before, Carl Parks looked at you with disdain, “Nurse, I’ll get the transfer orders in when I can.”

“‘Preciate it, doc.” You fired back coolly. It was cute that he thought that he’d be able to get under your skin.

They all exited and moved on to their next patient for rounds.

“What’s up his ass?” Rooster asked you.

You smirked, “The shame of being wrong.”

He gave you a questioning look.

“He didn’t think you were ready to get off the ventilator yesterday, I challenged him on it and the attending doctor took my side.” You explained, “Guys like him hate being wrong, their egos get bruised.”

He scoffed, “I don’t know how he’s smart enough to be a doctor if he was dumb enough to question you.”

“But what if this new unit sucks?” Bradley complained as you wheeled his bed down the hall and towards the elevator.

“All hospital units suck,” you scoffed, “Except for maybe labor and delivery.”

“I’m guessing my lack of vagina means I can’t go there.”

You stopped at the elevator and pressed the button, “You’d be correct.”

“Well shit.” He chuckled.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened; you carefully pushed the bed inside.

“This is a good thing,” you pressed the 3rd floor button, “the sooner you get out of the ICU, the closer you are to going home.”

Bradley sighed, “Yeah but… I’m going to miss you.”

“Really?” Butterflies began to flutter in your stomach.

What the hell was that? You thought to yourself.

He nodded, “Yeah, you’re the first nurse that made me feel like a human being.”

You paused, taken aback by his words. “I don’t think you even understand how much it means to me to hear you say that.”

The elevator dinged again and the doors opened to your floor.

“I mean every word.” He said as you pushed him down the hall towards the medical observation unit, “You’re a good nurse— a great nurse.”

“Wow,” you stopped at the unit entrance and used your badge to open the doors, “Thank you so much for saying that.”

The nurse that was taking over Bradley’s care interrupted your conversation and helped you get his bed into the new room. You guys did your checks, you gave her a quick beside report, and you were good to go.

You looked at Bradley and sighed, “It was a pleasure taking care of you, Lt. Bradshaw. Keep getting better.”

He nodded and gave you a soft smile, “I will. Thank you for all you did for me.”

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

Two weeks later

It was Bradley’s first night out since before his deployment, it felt like a lifetime had gone by. He couldn’t wait to see all his friends at the Hard Deck and show them he was doing alright. The only one who’d seen him since he was med-evaced from the aircraft carrier was Phoenix. She was the one who picked him up from the hospital after discharge and took him home. He told her all about the angel nurse he met, how she bathed him and talked to him while he was intubated, how she was by his side to talk him through his extubation, how she made him laugh, and how he hasn’t stopped thinking about her.

“BRADSHAW,” Jake “Hangman” Seresin, his best frienemy, shouted across the bar from the pool table, “as I live and breathe!”

“We weren’t sure if he was living and breathing for a second back on the carrier.” Coyote quipped.

All the men greeted each other with big hugs and claps on the back. Despite their joking in the moment, those men were terrified that they were going to lose Rooster. Hangman was on the cot next to him in the infirmary as they were intubating him. It was a nightmare, to say the least.

“Glad you’re okay, buddy.” Bob said, “Let me buy you a drink.”

“Are you sure?” Bradley questioned, “But you don’t drink.”

Bob shook his head, “Doesn’t matter, I’m just so glad you’re here.”

Phoenix lovingly patted his cheek, “Awww Bob, you really are the best of all of us.”

“Truly.” Bradley agreed.

He could’ve sworn he was going crazy. He saw Y/N. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her. But to be fair, he thought he saw her everywhere. She hadn’t left his mind since the day he met her. But this time he heard her voice and her laugh in the crowd. His eyes scanned the crowded bar for a familiar face. BINGO! There sh was, waiting for a drink at the bar. With a familiar young, little blonde. Was that Carly the child?!

“Go find yourself a cute sailor or something!” He heard her say over the loud music, “That’s what I’d do if I was young and hot!”

“Y/N, shut up! You’re only 28, you’re young and hot too!” The little blonde nudged her.

Wow, she was just as beautiful as he remembered her. Though she was a little more dressed up, she still had that same calm and caring demeanor that she had every time she walked into his room in the ICU. She was wearing a tight white T-shirt and faded jeans, effortlessly beautiful.

“Oh no you don’t!” She grabbed Carly’s wrist as she tried to slip her card to the bartender who just served them their drinks.

Carly ignored her and handed over the card, “Oh yes I do! You’ve helped me so much ever since you started, I feel like I’m actually getting the hang of this nurse thing with your help. Let me treat you!”

Y/N pouted, “Fine! But no more after this! You need to save your money for fun and adventure!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Carly saluted her like an officer.

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

“Absolutely not,” You cried over the music at Carly and the other younger nurses that were with you at the Hard Deck.

“Absolutely yes!!!” Another young nurse, Madi handed you a tequila shot and a lime.

You groaned, “I’m too old for this!”

“NO YOU’RE NOT!” The girls chorused.

You looked down at the tiny glass, could your stomach even handle this anymore.

“Dooooooooo it!” Carly taunted evilly.

“Doooooooooooooooo it!” Sam echoed.

You groaned, “Ugh! Fine!” And you tossed the shot back like a champ, chasing it immediately with the lime. Your face contorted, “Oof it burns.”

All the girls cheered and threw their shots back together.

Suddenly the jukebox cut, making the room fall silent for a moment. Then a couple of chords slammed on a piano.

You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain

Too much love drives a man insane

You broke my will, but what a thrill

Goodness gracious, great balls of fire

Your head whipped around, wondering where the hell this piano was coming from.

“Holy shit.” Carly’s jaw dropped.

You looked in the same general direction Carly was, “Holy shit.”

“What?!” Madi asked over the loud music and singing. Many others had since joined in.

“That’s the patient Y/N fought Parks about extubating .” She explained.

You were still frozen.

“He’s kinda hot.” Sam giggled.

All you could choke out was, “That’s quite the mustache.”

Tag list:

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Please message or comment if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x y/n #rooster x reader #rooster x y/n #rooster x you #top gun fic #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you

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unabashegirl · 4 months ago

Text

Different 5 | College HS

Harry's quiet, routine-driven life changes one weekend when he meets Y/N through a mutual friend at her party. She comes from a superficial, materialistic world with absent parents who believe money solves everything. Despite their differences, something clicks that night, and Y/N can't stop thinking about him.

Author's note: Hello everyone, I hope you are all doing well! Here is another chapter of Different. Let me know what you think! 🫶🏻

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all 25 chapters, various one shots and much more :)

masterlist

“Holy shit,” Mitch screamed as they all piled into the car. “What the hell is going on?” He pounded the steering wheel. “Did she really invite us over?” Jeff and Liam laughed in the backseat as they buckled up.

“She’s so attractive,” Liam said, scrolling through his phone. Harry wished he were in the car with her.

“Are you done?” Harry asked as Mitch started following her toward her apartment.

“Hell no!” Mitch replied, slamming the wheel as they stopped at a red light. “Are you planning to sleep with her tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“The only reason she’s letting us stay over is because she wants to be around you,” Liam said, giving Harry’s shoulder a firm slap.

“So, are you sleeping with her or not?” Jeff asked with a chuckle. Harry suddenly felt nervous and regretted coming. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with her, but he wasn’t sure how to handle the situation if it arose. He was a man and had seen porn, but he knew it was all staged. Most importantly, he had feelings for her and genuinely wanted to make her feel good.

Harry had always put girls on the back burner. He’d never been one to desperately seek out casual encounters. His main focus had always been his education, aiming for a stable future, providing for his family, and having better opportunities. But since Y/N had come into his life, she had become his only thought, consuming his mind day and night. He was constantly thinking about her and how she was doing.

“She’s just being nice,” he shrugged, dismissing their comments.

“You’ve got to make your move, H,” Mitch said as he drove. Harry didn’t respond, keeping his thoughts to himself. He mentally played out every possible scenario that could develop in her apartment. “And don’t you dare start stuttering and get all shy around her.” Harry wanted to punch him but held back and bit his tongue.

A few minutes later, they arrived at Y/N’s apartment. It was stunning—large for a single person but cozy, thanks to the numerous carpets, cushions, pillows, and warm lighting.

“What does her dad do again?” Jeff asked quietly as Y/N closed the door and slipped off her shoes in the foyer. Harry shrugged, unsure.

“Welcome! Make yourselves at home,” Y/N said with a smile, hanging her coat in the closet beside the front door. She watched as they scrambled to remove their shoes and hang their coats.

Meanwhile, she wrapped her arms around Harry’s torso waiting for everyone to settle down and arrange their shoes.

“There are two bedrooms upstairs and one downstairs. So, it’s up to you where you want to sleep tonight!”

“Shotgun upstairs!” Sarah called out just as the others began to argue. Y/N giggled as Jeff and Liam pushed each other, covering her ears and shaking her head at Harry’s friends.

“I’m sleeping upstairs and ON MY OWN!” Sarah shouted after the noise subsided a bit.

“Makes sense. You’re the only girl.”

“So, who’s sleeping with whom? Does Mitch sleep with Liam or Jeff?”

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Liam suggested, placing his hands on his hips.

“Deal.” The three of them started playing, with Mitch winning the last room upstairs.

“Where are your parents?” Jeff asked as he sat on the living room couch.

“Business trip. They’ve been gone for four months.” Y/N said this with a casual tone, but Harry could sense it bothered her. Everyone nodded and continued exploring the living room.

“Do you guys want to use the pool?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

“There’s a pool?!” Mitch exclaimed, surprised. Y/N nodded and walked to the sliding doors. She raised the blinds and opened the doors, revealing the heated pool.

“Oh!

“It’s fall. It’s too cold,” Liam pointed out as he stepped onto the terrace.

“It’s heated.”

“We don’t have bathing suits,” Sarah reminded them as everyone tested the pool’s temperature.

“You can borrow one of mine. I think my stepbrother might have left some clothes upstairs.”

“You have a stepbrother?” Harry asked, confused. He had never heard of him or seen him in any family photos, and Y/N had never mentioned him.

“I do. He had a falling out with my father and doesn’t come around anymore. He’s a jerk,” she admitted as they watched Mitch attempt to pick Sarah up and throw her into the pool. “I’ll go get them.” Y/N recalled the distress her stepbrother had caused their father. Although her father wasn’t perfect, her stepbrother was far from it.

“I’ll come with you,” Harry offered, following her upstairs. The upstairs was decorated just like downstairs, with numerous paintings and plants. It felt warmer and less modern compared to the other house he had visited. They walked to the last room down the hall. Her bedroom was painted a warm cream color, with a huge bed dominating the space. Everything was neat and thoughtfully arranged.

“Let me change quickly,” she said, disappearing into her closet, which was larger than his dorm room. Harry was left alone with his thoughts.

As he wandered around the room, he noticed the numerous picture frames and stacks of books beside her bed and desk. It surprised him to see how many books they had in common. He hadn’t guessed she read so much in her spare time. He could hear his friends laughing from upstairs, which eased his nerves.

“I’m ready,” she said, startling him. She emerged in a lime green bikini from a trip to Mallorca years ago. It left little to the imagination, and Harry found it hard to keep his eyes off her. “I’ll be right back!” Y/N went to the guest bedroom where her stepbrother had stayed last. He had arrived while she was at school, demanding to stay, and left a day later when her father forced him to leave. He promised to send his clothes, but he never did, as he never contacted them again.

“Do you want to change here or downstairs?” she asked as she reentered her bedroom.

“Here is fine,” he replied, choosing a pair of navy-blue shorts. Meanwhile, she selected several bikinis for Sarah to choose from, in various colors and styles.

“Are they comfortable?” she asked as he emerged. “Are you okay? You’ve been unusually quiet.” Her head tilted, curious and concerned. Harry didn’t feel prepared to handle her bare skin against his fingertips.

“I guess I’m just overthinking,” he said with a frown. Mitch and Liam’s comments had gotten to him and affected his enjoyment.

“Okay,” she said, and he noticed how close her lips were to his. He smiled and gave her a gentle kiss, sweet enough to make her smile. “Let’s go downstairs before Sarah gets thrown into the pool,” she giggled as they pulled away.

As they walked downstairs, hands intertwined and smiles on their faces, Harry braced himself for the reactions from his friends when they saw Y/N. He walked in front of her, trying to shield her from their prying eyes, feeling protective.

“Here,” Harry said, handing them the trunks.

“The bathroom is at the end of the hall on your right,” Y/N instructed. The boys, too excited to notice her appearance, raced to get into the pool. She wrapped her arms around Harry’s torso, hiding her nearly naked body from view. She then walked over to Sarah, giving Harry’s neck a quick kiss before presenting the bikinis. “I brought you a few options because I wasn’t sure what you’d prefer. This one is just like mine but white.”

"Absolutely not. I don’t have the confidence to pull that off or the body."

"You don’t," Harry confirmed, earning a glare from Sarah and an elbow to the ribs from Y/N.

"Yes, you do! It’s 2024. Anyone can pull it off. Don’t listen to him," Y/N encouraged, but Sarah still declined. Y/N continued showing her different options until she settled on one. "You’re a jerk," she pouted, turning her attention to Harry after Sarah disappeared to change. Y/N then took some towels out of a closet and placed them on the three tanning beds outside, by the edge of the pool.

"I was just being honest," he shrugged, walking to the steps of the pool and getting in. The water was warm, feeling more like a jacuzzi than a pool, but he didn’t mind. It helped him relax. Y/N connected her phone to the speakers and started playing music, setting the ambiance for everyone. Meanwhile, Harry swam around, trying to clear his mind. When he came back up for air, he noticed Y/N had also submerged and was staring at the starry night.

"Beautiful, huh?"

"Kiss me," she demanded. Harry reached out, cupped her face in his hands, and pressed his lips and body against hers. Even though he had her pressed up against him, it still didn’t feel like enough. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and as he had imagined, her skin felt like silk under his touch.

She was surprised by his sudden burst of confidence, until he pulled away and his cheeks reddened. Y/N pecked his lips a few more times before the moment was cut short by Mitch, Liam, and Jeff running out and jumping into the pool.

"It’s so nice," Mitch smiled as he came up for air.

Sarah walked out wearing a two-piece, but a bit less revealing than Y/N’s. Harry had made her feel self-conscious and reminded her of her insecurities. He made a mental note to personally apologize to her. It had been a joke, but he had accidentally taken it too far. They swam and joked around for hours, even making fun of Y/N, who laughed and joined in. Harry watched, as she yawned, arguing with Mitch. He swam up to her and wrapped himself around her.

"Tired?" he whispered as Mitch started another argument with Liam. Meanwhile, Jeff floated around, looking at the dark sky, and Sarah sat by the steps with the water up to her neck, laughing at Mitch.

"A bit," Y/N admitted. Harry was also starting to get tired. "I think I’m going to head upstairs and get into bed," she announced. "You guys stay here if you like. Just make sure to close the doors and turn off the lights." Everyone muttered and waved goodbye.

"I’m going to go as well," Harry confessed, following her. Liam winked at him as he swam past. Y/N slicked her hair back as she stepped out, leaving Mitch and Liam with their mouths open wide. She was unbelievably irresistible, and Harry couldn’t blame them. She had curves in all the right places.

"It’s freezing," she complained, quickly wrapping a towel around her body. Harry followed her, closing the door behind them as they tiptoed, dripping water, up the stairs.

Chapter 6

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