#“Life's too short to be dancing with the devil” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mountainsandmayhem · 5 months

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God Bless The She Devil Who Made Joel Miller

Pairing: BFD!Joel x F!Reader

18+ only!!!

Summary: After a fight with your boyfriend, your best friend Sarah invites you to say with her at her childhood home with her dad.

CW: Joel be peekin, Joel is mean (but you like it). I’m choosing not to say anything else to not spoil anything so engage at your own risk.

AN: You can all thank @littlevenicebitch69 for this. She asked for being caught, but I am daddy and I know what she really wants 😉 thank you @mermaidgirl30 for being my forever beta xo

Graphics by @saradika-graphics

God bless the absolute angel who brought Sarah Miller into your life. She somehow convinced her dad to let you stay with them over spring break after your boyfriend locked you out of your shared apartment and then refused to answer the phone or let you in. Sweet, empathetic, and dependable Sarah was at your apartment minutes after you called her and didn’t have to say much to her dad to let him allow you to stay.

And God bless the absolute she devil who made Joel Miller and put him in close proximity with you. You have a boyfriend, maybe, you can’t be sure, but you do know you have it HARD for Joel Mother Fucking Miller. He’s exactly the type of man that would classify as a DILF, and you don’t even consider yourself into older men. But Joel isn’t older, he’s experienced and charming and every single thing he does seems to turn you on.

Sarah has been working a day shift at the local grocery store during the break and Joel is off running his contracting business. Joel Miller, sweaty and dirty and building things with his large calloused hands. Fuck, you try to shake that image from your brain because you certainly do not need another image of him to touch yourself too.

You have a job serving in the evenings so the house is quiet and all yours during the day. This afternoon the sun peeks through your curtains and wakes you. Sun dancing along the pale yellow walls of the spare bedroom. You pick up your phone and see that it’s clear and sunny, the perfect day to lay out by the pool that Joel said you could use, “make yourself at home, darlin’, any friend of Sarah is welcome anytime.”

You practically leap out of bed and into your ensuite bathroom to brush your teeth and get ready to lay out in the sun. You rush down the hall in the swimsuit Sarah lent you, a large blue and white striped pool towel tucked under your arm.

You love Sarah, but there’s no chance you’re wearing this ridiculous one piece swimsuit to tan, plus you’re alone so what’s the harm? Joel doesn’t get home until well after 5 pm most nights, Sarah usually around 3 or 4, and she’s seen you naked more than once. Plus the backyard is fairly private, most likely no one will see anything.

Fuck it, you think to yourself, slipping the red lycra straps off your shoulders and then shimmying the suit down your body. The sun immediately warms your skin and that boost of vitamin D already has you feeling lighter and happier. You spread the towel down on the chair and lay on your stomach, tying your hair on top of your head and then grabbing your phone.

You flip through Spotify before settling on the album Ten by Pearl Jam. As the first song floats across the backyard, you rest your cheek on your hands and let the fast paced grunge music wash away your thoughts of your boyfriend and what you’re going to do next week when you go back to school. All that matters now is the sun on your skin.

X•X•X•X•X•X•X

Joel was just about to start working on some paperwork for his next building when he heard movement in the hallway. You must be up for the day, he should probably let you know he’s working from home today, just in case. He wants you to be comfortable here, even if it’s killing him to see you wandering around his house in those small denim shorts you wear to work. Last night he was almost certain he could see your hard nipples peeking out from the fabric of your tight white t-shirt.

Absolutely not, Joel. He scolds himself.

He hears you pad down the hall and then the unmistakable swoosh of the sliding glass door to the backyard. He glances out the window in his office to see you slip the red swimsuit Sarah lent you off your body. His cock was already painfully hard behind his jeans.

She just turned 21. The Angel on his shoulder reminds the devil that’s tempting him from the other side.

His mouth waters as he looks at your body. Your tits are perky, pink little nipples hardening as the air hits them.

She's going through a hard time. The good side of his conscience seems to be losing but he finds an ounce of strength and looks away. He can’t be staring at you.

He tries to focus on this goddamn contract but even little deadline and “initial here” blend together and all he can see in the jumbled words of the page is that little strip of hair that leads to that bundle of nerves he so badly wants to suck on. When he looks up again you’re laying face down, round and perky ass facing his window and on display for him. She must not know he’s home, and now she’s going to think he’s a total fucking creep if he says something now.

She’s your daughter's best friend. No, she’s off limits. Beyond off limits. Get it together, Miller.

And then your music drifts through his cracked window. You’re listening to Pearl Jam. So now not only are you incredibly tempting but you also have the music of his teenage years blasting. He can’t resist anymore, glancing out of the window to see you still laying on your stomach and your plush ass bouncing along as you wiggle to Eddie Vedder singing about still being alive.

He’s not sure how it happens, his body seems to move without him knowing, and suddenly he’s standing at the window, staring down into the backyard at you. His muscular arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the large window frame.

He slows his breathing and focuses on you - every dip and curve, every freckle, every little bit of skin being absorbed by his heated gaze. Your legs are slightly parted, but not enough for him to be able to see your cunt, and fuck does he want to see it.

His palms tingle with the need to cup your ass, maybe spank you for being naked in the middle of the day. He has neighbors, they could see you right now. This is unacceptable and you should be punished.

Just as he’s about to head downstairs his cell phone rings loudly and you shoot up onto your elbows and look over your shoulder at him, eyes locking with his before a tiny smile crosses your face. Joel looks away quickly and grabs his cell, almost crushing the device in his grasp as he answers.

X•X•X•X•X•X•X

Joel Miller was fully lurking at your naked body, and while that should probably embarrass you, you need to get fucked. You need something, anything, to forget about that piece of shit boyfriend who locked you out and refuses to talk to you or let you get your stuff. Sarah told you when you first met that he had her when he was 19, so it’s not like he’s THAT much older than you. Plus it’s just fucking.

Yep, I’m going for it.

You gather the towel around your body loosely, hooking your swimsuit on your finger and twirling it happily as you head into the house, determined to confront him and then seduce him. When you head up the stairs he’s standing in the doorframe of his office, just across from the spare bedroom you’re occupying. He looks deliciously pissed, one arm propped above his head on the door frame, the other on his hip, knee popped out. Your pussy flutters at the thought of his large, angry body above yours.

The opening bars of Jeremy fill the silence between you two, almost daring the other to make the first move.

“Turn that off,” Joel snaps. “I’m working.”

“Didn’t look like you were working a few minutes ago,” you say back, matching his energy.

Joel’s eyes narrow, brows furrowing, but you can tell he’s fighting to keep his eyes on yours. You lick your lips, testing him, teasing him, pushing him to see if he’ll take the bait. The flick of his eyes to your lips happens so quickly you almost miss it.

You let out a scoff, “Ya, that’s what I thought.” You step towards him, so close that you can smell the coffee and sawdust on him. “Wanna take a break from all that work?” You say the word work teasingly, trying to entice him.

“Go to your room and put some clothes on. Don’t let me catch you naked in the backyard again,” He says deeply, then closes his office door in your face.

You smirk to yourself, dropping the towel at his door and wandering into your room leaving the door wide open. You hook your phone to the Bluetooth speaker as you lay on your bed completely naked. You hit the volume button and slip your hand between your legs, rubbing your clit in fast, little circles.

“Daddy didn’t give no affection, no

And the boy was something that Mommy wouldn’t wear

King Jeremy the wicked

Oh, ruled his world”

Joel whips his office door open looking absolutely furious. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of you. Bare, wide open, and soaking wet. You don’t stop, don’t even bother to look his way, as you dip your fingers into your pussy and cry out his name. Joel steps into your room and hits the power button on your speaker. The only sounds that film the room are your moans and the squelching of your arousal as your fingers slip in and out of your pussy.

“What the fuck did I just say, little girl?” Joel says darkly.

You open your eyes to look at him and the expression on his face sends your heart into your stomach. You’ve always been a little bit of a brat, getting in trouble lots growing up. Truthfully, you like the rush of it, the adrenaline of the unknown. But Joel looks dangerous, eyes blown out with rage and lust, hands clamped into fists at his sides, a slight blush pinks his cheeks, lips in a tight line.

You sit up, crossing your legs and covering yourself with a pillow as you turn towards him. You’re suddenly not feeling so confident, you may have pushed the wrong man.

“Y-you said outside,” you start, your voice wavering. “I’m inside.”

Joel moves so quickly that you don’t even have time to register what’s happening as the pillow is ripped from your grip and disposed of on the floor in front of you. You’re bare and exposed to him again.

“Spread your legs,” he says hungrily, voice a raspy whisper.

He watches your throat as you swallow hard, leaning back on your elbows and planting your feet on the edge of the bed. You look at him tentatively, jumping and letting out a little squeal when he barks, “I said spread your fucking legs.”

You relax, letting your knees fall open. His breathing is rapid, a growling moan leaving his parted lips. He takes one step, his knees hitting the edge of the bed.

“Joel -” you start.

“Shut up. You knew what you were doing, you wanted this. Didn’t you?”

“Y-Yes, but…” his hand slaps the inside of your thigh and your knees slam together as you cry out.

“Spread. Your fucking. Legs,” he repeats in a slow and deep command.

“That hurt!” You say back, squeezing your knees together tighter. It feels like he set fire to your thigh and you can already see the red handprint forming.

“If you’re gonna act like a little brat, I’m going to treat you like one. Now spread your legs so I can hit the other one.” He raises an eyebrow at you cockily. “If you keep them open, I might reward you.” You’ve bit off more than you can chew with Joel Miller.

You take in a calming breath through your nose, relaxing your knees as you exhale slowly. Joel can see the milky, sticky strings of your arousal as your pussy lips spread open for him. He has to swallow the excess saliva that pools in his cheeks at the sight. He wants to taste you so fucking badly.

“I think you liked it,” he taunts. “You’re makin’ a mess, you like being slapped around, don’t you? Treated like a little whore.”

Before you can respond he lays a hard smack on your other thigh. Your hips involuntarily buck upwards, your head falling back and a moaning, whimpering cry you don’t recognize as your own leaves your lips. You focus on your knees, fighting against your body’s instincts, keeping them pushed into the mattress.

“That’s what I thought,” he says as he kneels in front of you and yanks your ass to the edge of the bed. “Think you should get a reward now?”

“Y-yes, please, Joel. Please!” You have never had to beg for sex before, boys your age are usually fired up and ready to go, but men of Joel’s age know sex is so much more than just penetration - it’s a game, a tease.

He bites down on your thigh, “Please. Please, Joel!”

“You smell so fucking good,” he says as his hooked nose trails down your little line of pubic hair. You squirm under him as your clit twitches, aching for his attention. “And so goddamn wet. My little whore, aren’t ya?” His warm breath hits your needy clit and you flop down onto the bed, whining in need.

“Please -” but your words are cut off by the front door opening and Sarah’s voice calls through the house.

“Everyone can celebrate, I’m home now!!!” She yells jokingly.

“Fuck!” Joel huffs under his breath and bolts for his office, kicks your towel and swimsuit into your room, you follow and click your door shut quietly.

“Hello?” Sarah calls, heading up the stairs.

“Just getting dressed,” you call through your closed door. “I think your dad is in a meeting.”

“Put on your swimsuit, it’s gorgeous outside!”

Taglist

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@keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot

@javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey

@lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog

@pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya

@iluvurfather @ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30 @untamedheart81

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lovecla · 19 days

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IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter four:

➴ warnings: angst, jealousy, insecurities

➴ word count: 3.9k

➴ author’s note: this is a mess, soph and jack are a mess, quinn’s a sweetheart, grace’s funny af and i’ve reached 100 followers today. can’t even describe how happy i am with the attention IYLM,LMK is getting. i adore u all so much and i hope u stick with me for a while. prepare your seatbelts because shit is about to hit the fan. :,)

SOMETHING changed between you and Jack that day at the Skims set, a week ago.

You finally realized that you are, very much, in love with Jack Hughes. Which was something that you never, in a million years, would’ve guessed. Because, what; you told yourself you’d never get your heart shattered again, yet here you were, walking straight (and worse: willingly) into a trap, falling in love with the man whore of the Devils team.

Despite all of the mean things your mind wanted to tell you, you just forced yourself to remember that not every man is like your cheater ex boyfriend and that not every man would completely crush your heart and tear it apart.

And even though you wouldn't put your hand on the fire and say that he felt the same way as you, if he didn’t, that man was good at pretending. Because no way in hell he’d take all of his fuck buddies to their family lake cabin to throw a Halloween party.

“This is crazy, Jack, you are in the middle of the season, and I’m in the middle of releasing something…” you started, watching as the car took a turn. “Also, how the fuck did you manage to organise a party in, like, thirty minutes?”

“Uh. I’m literally a NHL player. What did you expect?” He scoffed, so full of himself it was almost impossible to stand. You rolled your eyes. “And it’s just a night. I’m not screwing everything up for having fun for one night only, baby, and neither is you.”

“I guess you’re right.” You mumbled, answering some texts messages on your phone.

“I’m always right.” You rolled your eyes again, watching as he drove with ease. “What are you wearing tonight?”

“My fans have been dying for me to dress up as Rapunzel, so I might as well please them.” You shrugged, locking your phone and putting it on your pocket.

“I don’t know about them but I am definitely pleased with the idea.” He smirked.

“You’re just horny, Hughes. Happens to the best of us.”

“Or you’re just pretty. Happens to some of us.”

You laughed, cheeks warm and heart beating fast. “You’re a flirt, Jack Hughes. I missed that. Is it always this crazy during the season?”

“Like you can’t even imagine. My life is just games, working out, eating plain shit and practice for seven months straight.”

“And you love every second of it, don’t you?”

He smiled, white teeth making the view seem a whole lot brighter. “I do, yes. It’s like… the only thing that makes me feel truly alive.”

“Yeah, I know what it feels like,” you whispered. “I feel like that when I’m on the stage too. It’s just… I don’t know. Makes me feel good.”

“I like seeing you on stage,” he nodded and you raised your brow. “What? I do, really. That concert I went to with Nico was fun. Besides, watching you dance with those little dresses of yours is something else.”

“Boo, you’re just an idiot!” You laughed. “But thank you, Jackie bear.”

“Sophia, Jesus, do not call me that,” he whined, but the smile was still on his lips. “Gross.”

“Okay, Jackie bear, whatever you want, honeypot.”

“Sophia!”

— ♡

THE cabin was packed with people, and you were amazed with how fast people arrived, even with the short notice.

You were waiting for Grace to finish getting ready— she would be wearing a Tiana costume, matching your Rapunzel one— so you both could go downstairs and enjoy the party.

“Jack’s going to have a heart attack when he sees you with that little skirt,” Grace said, while applying lip gloss on her plump lips.

“Yeah, about that… I might need to talk to you about something.” You started, crossing your legs.

She stared at you through the mirror, raising her eyebrows. “Go on, Pinky Pie.”

“I thought we’d established that I’m Twilight and you’re my Mordecai?” You giggled, making Grace laugh too.

“I guess we can pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars…” she sighed. “Go on, then, baby. We don’t have all night.”

“So. I may or may have a thing for Jack. Actually, maybe more than just a thing. Think I’m in love, to be honest,” you waited to see her reaction, not expecting her to jump out of the vanity and start twirling around the room, making you laugh. “What are you doing?”

“Are you joking?” She looked at you like you’d grown a second head. “I just won two hundred bucks!”

Confusion took over your face. “What do you mean?”

“I told Nico that you’d be in love with Jack by the end of October and he said you’d be in love with him by the end of November, and since you confessed it now— perfect timing, by the way— I get my two hundred bucks!” She started dancing and jumping, like she wasn’t a nepo baby.

“Grace! What the hell, this is serious!” You raised your arms.

She sat back on the bed.

“Girl, no it isn’t. Just go to him and say: hey, buddy, here’s a secret not so secret: I’m in love with you.” She shrugged. “Just don’t sing the Airplanes song, please. That’s, like, our thing.”

“Grace, I— I can’t even— what the hell,” you wanted to run your hands through your hair, but you remembered that you were wearing extensions and a tiara. So you stick with biting your nails instead. “First of all, why the fuck would you and Nico bet on something like this? That doesn’t even make sense. Second, I can’t just go over there, call him and tell him I like him. That’s not how it works.”

“Well, Nico was the one who proposed the idea of betting so that’s on him!” She raised a finger. “And yes, that is literally how it works.”

“You’re forgetting that this is Jack Hughes. A guy who, apparently, can’t stay a week without a pussy and fucked every Jerseywoman who walked on God’s green earth.”

“Ew, don’t say that! You know my mom’s New Jersian…” she sighed, making a disgusted face. You smiled, apologetically. “Okay. I know that Jack’s past may not be the ideal background you want for your baby daddy but hear me out!”

“Baby daddy? What—”

“Jack hasn’t touched anyone else since you guys started… well. Fucking.” She blushes, like she wasn’t calling him your baby daddy not even a minute ago. “And he’s a great, great person. I’ve seen how he looks at you and if that man isn’t in love, then I’m white as a sheet of paper.”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, feeling frustrated. “Harris also seemed like a great guy, and when we got together, everything changed. I don’t want to go through that ever again.”

“I know it hurt, and God knows I’d rather mop the entire ocean than to see you like that again,” she scooched closer, grabbed your hands and pressed her lips together, the REM Beauty lip gloss making her lips look magical. “But you have to give yourself that chance again. It’s been more than a year, and I’ve seen you and Jack together.”

“I know that, but—”

Grace clicked her tongue, a tsc reverberating on the bedroom walls.

“I’m telling you this as someone who isn’t inside that little head of yours,” she whispered, holding your hands tighter. “You and Jack together? Girl, that’s meant to be. That’s like Achilles and Patroclus, Romeo and Juliet, Hazel and Gus—”

“Girl, what the hell, can’t you find a couple who at least one of them is still alive?” You scoffed.

“Sorry, I just love depressing stories…” she apologized before starting talking again. “That’s not the point, anyway, Miss Girl and you know it! Fuck whatever your head is telling you, Soph: you deserve to be loved and you deserve to love.”

“I didn’t say I love h—” she put a hand over your mouth, interrupting you.

“You don’t have to. I know you, Soph, and the look you get on your face whenever you talk to him, or even better, talk about him, is enough for me,” she kissed your cheek, quickly wiping the lip gloss stain on your face. “And let me tell you a secret, honeybun, he has the same look on his face.”

You smiled, cheeks carmesim and heart full. Thanking Grace for saying all of this wasn’t enough, you needed to buy her a house on the beach with a very naked Nico Hischier inside of it. Maybe that’s what you were going to do.

If only you knew how to convince Nico to be naked at a beach house, you’d certainly—

Someone knocked on the door, and you both got up, surprisingly fast, remembering that you were not alone and that there was a whole party happening downstairs.

Opening the door, you faced Jack who looked way too hot with his own jersey. Of course he’d be wearing a Jack Hughes, NHL Player costume. Of fucking course.

“You were taking too long up here so I came to check on you but maybe we’ll be here for a bit longer.” He smirked, hands finding your corset-covered waist instantly.

“Hum—”

“Excuse me, Mr. I-can’t-keep-myself-in-my-pants, I’m still here.” Grace yelled behind you, and you watched as his entire face showed his annoyance.

“Yeah, I can see. Feel free to leave, though,” he rolled his eyes, holding your right hand and twirling you around. “You look so pretty, baby.”

Your entire face felt like a fireplace but you still smiled nonetheless. “Thank you.”

“You both are disgusting, excuse me,” Grace walked past the both of you, mumbling something about checking in with her husband.

“Let’s go.” He offered you his hands, which you promptly held.

Going downstairs, you were surprised with how full the house was. Like, there were at least fifty people there, which seemed insane for a cabin, no matter how large it was.

Jack dragged you around, saying “hi” to every person you walked by, true to his NHL playboy persona. To your amusement, some people also acknowledged you. Mostly some girls and a few guys. It was nice.

“Sophia!” You heard a shout and immediately knew who it was. Trevor Zegras, wearing a pirate costume, which was just an excuse for him to be shirtless, really. One of the most annoying people you’ve ever met. Truthfully. “Damn, I’d climb that tower for you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’d push you down that shit, Zegras, fuck off.”

Jack laughed softly beside you, moving until you were both sitting on the couch. Quinn, Luke, Nico, Grace and Zegras were all there, talking with a few people you didn't know the name of.

“You can't say you don’t like me without trying me first.” Trevor suggested, looking directly at your face. You showed him your middle finger.

“No one wants to try you, Zegras, now fuck off,” Jack stated before sipping on the beer he stole from Luke, who was dressed as a cooking chef. Or at least that’s what it looked like.

“See, this is why Quinn’s my favorite Hughes,” he mumbled, smiling at Quinn. “Anyway, Soph knows where the heat’s at.” Pointing at himself, Zegras moved on to the girl on his right, who seemed awfully pleased to be his second option.

“Asshole.” You heard Jack mutter under his breath and you giggled, amused.

“Be nice. He’s just… in heat, I guess,” you shrugged, already used to Zegras’ comments. Every time you saw him, he had something new to add to the list. Usually, you’d tell him to fuck off, and he would.

“He’s a pain in my ass, that’s what he is.” Jack bickered, pouting like a ten-year-old child. You found it cute.

“Poor Jackie, huh?”

“Shut up, Soph.” He smiled, blue eyes bright and kind.

Now that you knew what those backflips your heart did every time you saw him smile meant, it was much harder to control them.

Confessing to Jack would break the no-strings-attached arrangement that you both had silently made. It would meant either dating him and having your happily ever after (even if you hardly believed in those) or having your heart broken (again) by a really nice guy who just wanted to fuck you.

Besides that, you were both well-known people, especially you. You remember all too well when you were at home, chilling after a concert, and you got several texts from your friends and family, regarding a bunch of pictures of Harris kissing another girl at a bus stop station. A fucking bus stop station.

The situation dragged on for months, every time you’d post something, people would mention the fact that your ex was a cheater, you had been cheated on and that somehow you deserved to get cheated on; because of the things you sang, because of the clothes you were. Just a shit show with an even shittier audience.

“Hey,” you heard Jack’s voice beside you, and you turned your head around, looking at him. “Where'd you go?”

“Nowhere,” you smiled; it didn’t reach your eyes. Jack seemed to be ready to talk back when a girl— brunette with the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen— threw herself at his lap.

“Jackieeee.” She whined, kissing his cheek. “I missed you.”

You could tell she was a little tipsy, but even so, it made your stomach ache anyway. That ugly, shattering feeling of feeling like less than less came back, and it was as if you could feel the narrator of your story preparing himself to repeat the same shit again. Here’s Sophia again, the girl who likes to mistake butterflies for cardiac arrests.

“Hi…” Jack sounded unsure, something he rarely did. You looked at Grace, and she looked right back at you. Only then you realized that basically everyone was staring at you.

“You don’t remember me?” The girl sounded like she was pouting and you cringed. She was so close to you, sitting on his lap, that her left thigh was brushing against your arm. “That’s fine. I’ll make sure to be unforgettable this time, baby.”

“Wow, I think that’s it for me,” you muttered, getting up from the couch, moving to the kitchen without looking back. You knew that you’d throw up if you did; not because of Jack and Mrs. Unforgettable, but because of the pity stares you knew people were giving you. It sucked.

You also knew that if you stayed inside the house for too long, you’d end up drunk and pissed off. And you didn’t want that. So you did the only thing that you knew would put your mind in the right place again: going to the lake.

You walked outside, feeling the cold breeze hit your face and legs and arms and— everywhere, really. You should have worn a sweatshirt, but now it was too late to go back. You’d rather turn into a popsicle than to go back there and watch that again.

Sitting on the dock, you watched the lake in front of you, listening to the sounds of insects and trees moving. It was a nice view, but probably nicer in the summer. Right now it just looked like a Criminal Minds crime scene.

Lost in thoughts, you didn’t hear the steps coming from behind you. “You’re gonna get sick.”

Letting out a scream, you turned around, facing Quinn, who was wearing a pilot costume, with a scowl on your face.

“Sweet Jesus, Quinn, what the hell,” you put your hand on your barely covered chest, taking a deep breath. “Don’t you know how to, I don’t know, make noise while you walk?”

“I did that, actually, you just didn’t hear it,” he sat down beside you, handing you a Canucks sweatshirt. “Thought you’d get cold.”

You smiled, thanking him and putting it on, trying not to ruin your hair and makeup.

“Thank you, Quinn. That’s nice. Go Canucks!” You raised your hand, making a fist bump, hearing his soft chuckle beside you. You sighed. “I don’t know if you’re here to try to make me feel better or anything like that, but you don’t have to. I’m fine, really.”

“I’m just here because you needed a sweater and because it’s kinda creepy to be here alone. Nothing else, I promise.”

You looked at him, once again surprised with the Hughes men. But then, they were raised by Ellen, so you shouldn’t really be surprised.

You nodded, choosing not to say anything, just feeling the breeze on your face, a million thoughts in your head.

Now what? What would you even say to Jack? Hey, yeah, I know that when we started this we said that we didn’t want to fall in love but guess what! I’m in love with you.

And what would he even say to you? It wasn’t his fault he didn’t like you back. He’d probably say something like yeah, you fucked up our arrangement now I’ll have to find someone else to fuck every week. You were fun, though! and move on with his life.

And you’d move on with yours, just like you did before. The thing is, you didn’t want to move on again. You spent five years into your twenties trying to move on from things and it was tiring as hell. Moving on from broken friendships? Tiring. Moving on from toxic people? Tiring. Moving on from your cheater boyfriend? Tiring and humiliating.

You were pulled from your thoughts by Quinn throwing rocks at the lake, laughing when he couldn’t make them float like he intended to. He looked at you with that tired expression of his, and smiled back.

“Great album, by the way,” he blurted out of nowhere.

You frowned. “Thank you, I guess. Did someone leak it?”

“No,” he laughed, shortly. “Jack talked about it in our family group chat a while ago. Ma asked about you and he went on rambling about it, which was really funny. He was like, putting on his uniform before practice and recording a voice note at the same time, which he never does. And then he went full rambling about all of the songs and how shitty your ex was. Sorry about that,”

You looked at Quinn like he had grown two more heads, four more arms and five more legs. You had no idea Jack talked about your songs with his family. At all.

You wanted to ask more about it to Quinn so bad but you were kinda scared about what you were going to hear in response. Does Jack talk about me?

About you? Yeah, and a lot of other girls too.

“Sure,” you mumbled. “Yeah, Harris was a dick,”

“I liked some of his movies but now he’s banned from my watchlist forever.” Quinn announced like the statement didn’t make your heart break and mend at the same time, his tone calm and distant. “It’s good that you found something to channel your pain though. I do that a lot during my games.”

“Singing for me is like breathing. I’ve done it since I was, like, eight or even younger,” you nodded to yourself, looking at the stars above you. “This album means a lot to me, in a lot of ways. So thank you for telling me this.” You smiled, not sure if he could see it. He was also looking at the stars.

“Don’t need to say ‘thank you’. You have a gift, Sophia. I hope you know that,” he stretched himself, yawning and wrapping his arms around his middle. “I wish I could write songs but I suck at that.”

“Why do you sound like you’ve tried that already?” You smirked, fucking with him.

Or at least you thought you were, because Quinn went quiet, which confirmed your suspicions.

“What!” You looked at him, throwing your arms up. “Have you written songs before?”

“I was thirteen, okay? I just thought that maybe if I didn’t make it to the NHL, I could at least be a rapper or something.” He shrugged, again, which only made you start laughing. “I know, it’s funny. Thankfully, I made it to the NHL.”

“I don’t know, it’d be great to make a song with you,” you said, playfully, before realising something. “Oh my God, Quinn. That’s what I need!”

“What?” He smirked. “Make a song with me? I don’t think that’s a great idea—”

“No, not a song with you. Just a song. I need to write,” You nodded to yourself, getting up and fixing your skirt with your hands. “Do you think I could get a cab here? I came with Jack and I think he’s…” you bit your lip. Focus. Write the song; it will all be better. “Busy. And Grace needs to have her fun, too. She’s been working nonstop.”

“A cab? Soph, it’s like midnight,” he got up, too, standing in front of you. “I can take you home. It’s no biggie.”

“What? No! Enjoy the party! I’ll just try to catch an Uber or something.” You went to grab your phone, just to remember that you left it at the cabin. “Ugh, fuck, I need to go inside again.”

“I will take you home, no need for Ubers or anything like that. Just tell me where your things are and I’ll pick them up for you. I’ll talk to Grace on my way there.” He affirmed, walking with you towards the cabin, the loud music slowly filling up your ears again.

“That’s… so nice,” you breathed, more grateful than you’d like to admit. “Thank you, Quinn, seriously. I owe you.”

“It’s fine,” he replied, hands in his pockets. “Wait a second here, please.”

You did, and it wasn’t long until he showed up with your backpack, your phone and a very worried Grace beside him.

“Girl, what the hell?” She yelled, probably not even realizing how loud she sounded. “I’ve been looking for you like crazy and out of nowhere Quinn shows up with your stuff, saying he will get you home.”

“I have to write a song.” You reasoned, raising your shoulders.

Grace stared at you for what felt like forever, until she pressed her lips on your forehead and sighed. “Alright. I’m not even going to ask. Be safe, please, and remember that I’m only a phone call away.”

“Thank you, I love you.” You kissed her back, following Quinn on the way to his car, not bothering to look back.

Jack was probably busy anyway.

— ♡

HANDS around the guitar, you replayed the same melody you’ve been playing for five hours straight now.

You arrived home at one thirty in the morning, and even though you were awfully tired, you had to get the lyrics, the feelings, the emotions out of you. Fuck sleeping.

You offered your guest room for Quinn but he just shook his head, saying that he’d crash at his parents’. You made him call you when he arrived there so you knew he was safe, which he promptly did.

After that, you made yourself tea and sat in your home studio, writing obsessively. It had been a long time since the last time you had a song practically written in your head, and honestly, you couldn’t tell if that was good or not.

What you knew, though, is that now, five hours later, seven a.m. in the morning, you had a song. Bad for Business. You sent it to your producer and Grace before laying on your bed and drifting away immediately, the exhaustion taking over you.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x singer!fmc #jack hughes x singer!reader #jack hughes smut #IYLMLMK

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smuttyaf · 8 months

Text

Jasper Gentlemen’s Club

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭

wc: 9.3k | part two of the business

“Treat yourself to something nice.”

Smile shines genuinely at the stack of blue bills falling into your grip. The heart of your customer pounds against your ear from the generous tip being gifted as you swiftly lean in pressing a kiss against his stubble cheek.

“I’ll surprise you,” You tease. His grip growing tighter against your hip at the gesture. “But that will just be our little secret.”

Following your movements he heads with you out of the dim decorative room. You depart from his side once leaving the elevator with faint ‘goodbye’ and his lingering touch trailing away from your waist. White train flows down your sides as you venture to the back of the establishment.

Heels click against the chestnut floorboard, the sound of lockers closing and gentle laughter fill your ears.

“Speaking of the devil,” Grace grins. Fishnets and lace peek under the usual feather robe. Her ginger hair sits in voluminous curls while her eyes are painted in black shadow.

Jasper Gentlemen’s Club, your place of employment for three years now. It’s a private upscale strip club to say in short, however it was the popular type of establishment catered for specific people; the elites and socialites of society, ranging from celebrities to politicians.

Already being high maintenance from the clientele that it specifically caters for, there were codes set in place to appease them. For example, always having proper upkeep of your appearance. Nails, toes, hair, lashes; everything had to be perfect. You were meant to look like a doll for your customers, suppose to be their escape from reality so you had to play the part perfectly. The second, would be no photography or video recording. It’s a no brainer but it was hounded into your mind, the only type of film the customers will ever be on is the security cameras. The situation being so serious everyone in the building had to sign non-disclosure agreements. And the last and final major rule, always being dressed in the renowned long tulle robe. Each dancer had this garment in every colour and pattern you can imagine, fluffy soft material making all your coworkers look like fairies dancing under the inky light.

Sometimes you couldn’t believe that this was your job. Working at this elegant spot and always looking stunning with your weekly manicures, pilates classes, and lash appointments. It was all that consumed your life aside from work. Even though you never thought you would find yourself in this position you couldn’t help but be happy about it. You struggled a lot during your teenage years, getting kicked out of your home at a such a young age you had to turn into an adult quickly. So you accept this lifestyle of greedy men and lustful hands, you much prefer it over the life you had before.

“You look like a sexy dominatrix,” You say glancing over her attire for the night.

Peeling open your purse, you let your tip money fall amongst the pile built up from your shift.

“You know me, you really know me!” Grace giggles with hand lying on her heart. You laugh at her expression while sitting at your vanity next to hers. “So… Do you remember the club owner I’ve been telling you about?” She ask, one arm place on the back of her chair as she faces you. You hum at her words nodding your head slowly.

She was boasting about this man that has been her new favourite of the month. Ranting about how he tips her generously and was the most handsome out of all her regulars. You’ve never took much notice of her roaster though, too indulged with your own you couldn’t really care about what her clients look like.

“He’s here and brought a friend… I may or may not have put in good words about you that he wants to meet,” Grace remarks with plucked eyebrows wiggling. It results with you shaking your head in disagreement.

“No thank you, I would like to go home to Cleo,” You sigh giving her an annoyed look. The desire to kick off these heels and curl against his fur freckle coat was all you wanted to do at the moment.

“Oh come on! Just one more before you leave!”

You twist your head at her words again. The clock was ten minutes away from your shift ending and you couldn’t wait for those numbers to dial in. Biting your lip you look at her.

“At least talk to him, I’m sure he’ll tip you for that… you know, because you’re just the sweetest girl in this joint.” Grace mocks Jasper’s southern voice. You roll your eyes at the reminder of him drunkly calling you one of his most prized employees during one the work anniversary parties.

“Fine, but you owe me.” Huffing with fingers tapping annoyingly at the vanity.

“Of course baby doll.”

You both touch up your makeup before going to the floor once more. It was Saturday night which meant it was busy, there was men litter by the bar while many sit amongst the lounge chairs, eyes all set on your coworkers performing their own little show for them before paying for the real thing. Her black train leads you towards the elevator, security smiling as you two step into the machine.

“Three please.” Grace smiles. The guard swiftly presses the number that brings you to the floor reserved for the most confidential people.

This makes you confused. If her client is just a club owner he couldn’t possibly be on this status? That can only mean the guest he brought with him has to be the one filling the role. If you could do a little dance in the space you would. Happy in your head thanking Grace for making you tag along but also causing you to wonder who it could be.

The elevator halts as you reach the floor. Both of you stepping out of the machine with robe swishing against your skin. White fluffy material tugs along the carpet as your heels echo in the hallway, eyes meeting the number of the door 323. The golden knob turns, allowing you both to step into the dim room.

Plum curtains pressed in baroque prints drape amongst the wall with stockard candles laminating the room, it gives sight on the two men standing each with glass of dark bourbon held in their hands.

Grace’s annoying rant about her regular being remarkably handsome is something you totally understand now, both look as if they could easily get sign and put on a runaway at any moment. One man holds a golden hue to his skin, black shiny hair slick under the lights, while the other has fair skin and luscious curls.

They stand in black suits fitting seamlessly against their bodies. The brown eyes of one man holds hues of caramel looking towards Grace while the other has beautiful emerald orbs that makes your breath catch in your throat.

She makes her way to the bronze man, feathers of her robe flutter under the lights. “Angelo, Y/N. Y/N, Angelo.” She introduce. You roll your eyes at her playfulness.

“Nice to meet you Y/N,” Deep Italian voice fills your ears as you smile curtly before giving the brunette next to him your attention.

Eyes watch the contour of his cheeks sink from his jaw tensing. His hair was short with loose ringlets weaving through, nose broad and standing high amongst the features of his chiseled face. He was enchanting, especially with the way he’s towering over you in this dim light, your cheeks begin to swell with heat from this foreign feeling brewing in.

Yes, you had plenty of handsome clients but never once did it make your heart sing a different tune. Your canine tooth pierces the corner of your mouth. The focus he has on you was more then just admiring ones appearance, it was as if he was devouring you.

The only thought passing through your head is hoping he can’t see your blushing cheeks as you play along to his daring gaze and let your alluring persona kick in.

“And who must you be?” You question, lashes look up at the man who still overshadows you in these tall heels.

“I’m shock you don’t know my name love,” Deep voice matching the same tone as his friend. It causes waves of arousal to flow through you.

“Don’t mind her, she’s doesn’t involve herself in small talk here,” Grace interjects, her hand sliding on Angelo’s suited shoulder while stepping into his body.

“Oh? Just my kind of woman then.” The brunette smirks. Those words make your ears tingle and grow red.

Jesus Christ get it together! You think to yourself. This is your new client, not some cute guy at the club, reel in your feelings and do your job.

“Told you to trust me Harry… now have fun you two,” Grace sings, hand slipping and locking with Angelo as she tugs him out.

The sound of the door closing is met with the slow hum of The Weeknd that fills the atmosphere, your heart is pounding in your ears with smile shining on your lips. Timid palms glazed over with sweat run over the white train of your robe.

This was so unlike yourself to be shy around men, especially with your profession after these few years, but now it was as if you can’t even control your nerves. You want to jump his bones and study every inch of him.

“Harry?” You say, body leaning into him and immediately smelling his expensive cologne, Baccarat Rouge. Your favourite mens cologne. Yeah, this was going to be difficult.

“Harry Styles,” He clarifies, eyes drinking you in as you move closer.

Your hand leaves your robe and feels over his collar to roam down his chest to feel over the buttons there. Applying pressure you gently shove him back a few steps before he’s against the familiar sofa, his knees bend with back falling softly against the cushions, your body now towering over his seated position.

The way he’s staring at you made the blood running through your veins thump with urgency to regulate your heart. A closed off part of you is unravelling itself just from looking at this man.

“Let me help you relax, Mr. Styles.” Pushing his legs apart with your thigh, your hips begin to sway to the music in the air. Nails going to the ribbon and playing with the bow.

Teasingly letting the smooth material slide between your fingertips, you move to the soft voice of the artist through the space, head lolling back seductively as you begin to unravel the string, your white embellished lingerie set reveals itself when you let the garment slowly cascade down your arms to rest in the hollow of your elbows.

Intricate fabric displays your busty breasts smooth with light sparkles dazzling under the lights, the floral lace design sits tight against your hips as your thighs rub against each other from each swing. Besides your waist moving so confidently with each stride, you can’t get over the way you feel so timorous.

Harry gaze is practically looking through you, observing every alluring movement that you do. The gentle press of your hands run up his thighs, your hips twisting side by side as you make your way between his legs, nails dragging into the thick fabric of his suit while doe eyes look up at him with playful smirk on your glossy lips.

His chest inhales deeply, knuckles turning white as he strains his hands by his side. The look in your gaze makes him want to groan hungrily, especially due to the position you’re lingering in. Nails trail into his thighs dreadfully to the slow symphonies in the background. He bites down on his bottom lip, body shifting under your eyes as you begin to rise up, swaying your waist back to your original position.

You continue to be enticing, hands running up your body as you turn around let your robe venture further down your arms to rest by your wrists, plump backside set in the air as you continue provoking him.

These movements were nothing new, especially with the way you allow yourself to fall deeper into his body and begin to dance in his lap, hair falling across your face you when rub yourself slowly against his obvious erection. Although, performing this sequence over hundreds of times your heart was beating erratically in your chest with mind racing with millions of thoughts. Thoughts you never had before ever since you’ve started working here, this new found feeling as if discovering Pandora’s Box.

You try to ignore the glint in his eyes, the way they hungrily look over every inch of your body, staring as if knowing what’s brewing in your mind.

Harry’s hand peels away from the velvet seat going to your moving hips, pulling you deeper against his embrace with head lying in the crook your neck, breath warm against your ear as you continue your teasing.

“No touching… you know this,” You scold. But despite the taunt you don’t move his hands, instead you slide your fingers on his knees increasing your ruthless movements.

You hear the groan that erupts from him lowly, nails curling into your skin as you push further into him. Turning your head slightly you nearly brush your lips together, it leads you to stutter at the close encounter. The mistake in your movements so distinct that you know he felt it, and if the lights weren’t such a dim glow he would see the way your eyes flare up at the near moment of kissing him.

“But you like it? Don’t you?” Harry purrs in your ear, heart fluttering at the rasp in his voice.

Rather than burrowing deeper into his touch you draw away from his reciprocating moves, his hands falling to his sides as he smirks up at you, expression shining with amusement.

Smile toying on your lips you straddle his thigh, hands running up his arms to curl around his shoulders. Everything about him was driving you crazy; the colour of his eyes, the cologne drawing you in, the material of his suit that feels smooth under your touch. You want him on top of you in every way possible.

As if catching a glimpse into your mind his hands find themselves back on your hips, compelling you to halt your previous movements of swivelling circles to drag roughly down his thigh. Your clit pressing tightly between the material of your panties to his rough motions that it makes you moan surprisingly.

Immediately biting down on your lip you can’t help but lean forward towards his face, his hands still moving you along his body, inching you closer and closer towards him. Nose brush against each other in the rush exchange just as lips nearly touch. You quietly whimper at the feeling of his nails digging into your hips. His mouth parting slightly as if trying to breathe in the sound you release.

You want so badly to lean in and discover the way he tastes. Honestly, you would do anything to have him cocooned around you in this moment, but unfortunately those thoughts don’t overshadow the reality of why you’re both in this room right now.

Skimming your tongue over your bottom lip, your teeth bite deeply into the flesh continuing to let him control your movements, his eyes still staring at you as he watches you restrain yourself from showing pleasure.

“How much you charge for the night?”

The words hang in the air causing your face to draw away from his, mouth parting in surprise as your expression resembles disappointment. You should really laugh at yourself. Did you think he was different than the rest? That the possessive look he has on you meant something more? You barely even know the man and your heart jumps for joy just at the appearance. You’re so naive, so stupid to really think he would see you differently.

“I —I don’t do that.” You mumble, pulling further away from him as you divert your gaze.

The tension that was once a teasing attraction between the both of you now is strained, the hum of the song concluding in the background sounds in the atmosphere while Harry’s grip relaxes realizing your change of emotion.

“Oh? I just thought…”

“You thought wrong.”

Heels balance yourself back on your feet. Arms trailing down the expanse of his as you faintly smile at him, your hands gather the sleeves of your robe around your wrist and drape it back over your shoulders, fingers lacing the ribbon together as the speaker occupying the room begins to play another song.

“It was nice meeting you sir.” You hush, faint smile tugging amongst your lips even though your face reads as if someone stomped on your dreams.

“Hold on now, let me apologize. I didn’t mean to offend you in anyway.” Harry confesses, his hands that were once on your skin reach out to draw you into his touch, however you step back.

It didn’t matter how he was going to form his words to express his regret about the invasive question. Whether he tried to say it in the nicest way or simplest terms, you know how he sees you. Just like your other clients; their little play thing that they want to unwrap to see more skin under the fabric.

It’s why you care little about the words you hear regularly. It’s expected of you even if it wasn’t something you offer. Yet, even when hearing it so many times, it still hurt that you were always perceived that way.

“None taken, have a good night.” You conclude the conversation.

Swiftly turning around you ignore the irritated expression on his face from your words, as you exit the room you try not to think of Harry and the blooming feeling of his presence captivating you.

“You shouldn’t have such high expectations.”

Sparkling wine dazzles under the chandelier lights when Grace brings the glass to her lips. She rolls her eyes faintly as she drinks back the sweet liquid, all you can do is turn the noodles in your pasta out of boredom.

“You know that’s not it.” You sigh, fingers fiddling with the fork and slouching your head on your hand.

“Oh come on!” It’s her turn to exhale tirelessly with annoyed smile on her lips. “I say you let him have what he wants, see what you can get out of him.”

Of course she would say that because she provides that type service but, you on the other hand didn’t. You never look at Grace differently because of it but she would always comment on just letting certain clients pay for sex, little jabs about doing these favours especially since it charges more. Yes, it would be easy to receive such superficial things out of those gestures but you desire more than that, which she knew tremendously.

“You know that’s not my thing.” Letting your fork scrape against the red sauce in your plate.

“Yes that’s what you say but you’re so infatuated with him, just give it a chance you never know what you can get from Mr. Mafia himself?”

“Mr. What?”

Eyes nearly bulge out of your face as if you were a cartoon character. The metal instrument in your hand drops from your grasp with your head raising off your hold in complete shock. Harry was in the mafia? Now you’re just finding out about this?!

“Oops? I thought I told you,” Grace reveals as if it’s so normal to forget.

“Are you serious?” You remark, eyes stuck on the way she shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly.

“Yes very serious, now relax. Some of our clients don’t have the best professions either.” She points out raising her eyebrows, and to that you nod in agreement.

You breathe in deeply, hands reaching out to grab your drink and take generous sips from discovering this new found information. This beautiful man with sweet colour eyes and soft curls was part of something dangerous. You never thought about what he could possibly do for work but that was definitely not one of them.

“But yes, the man you’re so in love with is in fact part of the mafia.”

“How do you know this?”

“If you spend enough time around drunk Jasper you’ll find out anything babe.”

Laughing faintly you agree to that, he was always the most honest when intoxicated.

“He was telling me about Angelo as a new client, how he’s some club owner laundering money for someone related to Luciano, some mob boss? I don’t know, never heard of that guy, but! When I met Angelo the first time at work… and well after work too, he was always having someone call him under Styles, one time I caught him talking to him on the phone, something about money so I just put two and two together.”

You bite down on your lip, eyes falling away from her hazel ones and to your unattended bolognese. Money laundering? Hopefully that’s the worse he’s ever done, but the inkling feeling roaming in the back of your mind tells you it’s not. Why should you even care though? This false hope that he’ll actually want you is slim, so why even try to care about what he does.

“I’m telling you girl, with the amount of money he probably brings in you should give it some thought.” Grace sends you another look as she continues eating.

Rolling your eyes again you bring the wine glass back to your lips. This conversation was steering its usual direction and frankly you were over it, you need to shove your heart back in your chest and forget these ridiculous ideas.

“Well if this isn’t a coincidence.”

Both of your sights catch on the same men you saw last night, especially on the specific man who is the topic of the conversation. Harry is now standing right in front of you still looking remarkably handsome as ever. This time he was dressed in a navy blue suit that brought out a gentle tone in his eyes. If you weren’t in this restaurant you would probably take up Grace’s words and get on your knees in this moment.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel the heat rush to your cheeks, and unlike the gentlemen’s club the lights inside this restaurant are brightly lit around the room, only highlighting the flush to your skin. Diverting your gaze, you continue to tip the alcohol into your mouth as cheery laughter beams from Grace when she looks between Angelo and you.

“It’s good to know we all have taste,” She humours, while you decide to swallow back the sweet fluid and place your drink back in its previous place.

Your sight darts from your drink to the napkin with extra cutlery to avoid the unwanted attention burning on your face. You know it’s Harry practically boring holes into you, so heavy that you don’t even want to look up and see him. You just willow in Grace’s conversation doing everything to ignore contact.

That’s until weight presses on the back of your chair, the smell of him fills your nose as he practically buries his head into the side of your neck. You’re completely taken back at the gesture, head turning slightly to make distance.

“Are you going to hold onto my mistake forever?” Harry ask, voice low and assertive that you feel your cheeks grow even brighter.

Pulling away from his embrace you scan his face as he straightens his back peering down at you. He studies your appearance in reciprocation to your detecting gaze, as if wanting to know every dip and curve that roams the expanse.

“No.”

“Are you always this cold then?”

“Maybe.”

Finally breaking the stare down you turn towards Grace who smiles sheepishly Angelo way before looking towards you. Sight flickering between Harry retreating next to his friend.

“See you soon.” Grace shines watching the two step away and head to their table.

As soon as they’re out of sight you clench your teeth, fury completely combing through you at the sudden intrusion of the night.

“Ease up on him.” She laughs. It makes you sigh dramatically, reaching over and finishing your glass of wine.

“I want a shot,” You declare. It makes Grace erupt in even more laughter only making you join along. This night was full of surprises.

“For once would you take my advice?”

Monday evening is slow; music transitioning between easygoing temp to dreadful paste. You book a couple private rooms in the beginning of your shift, flirt with some men on the floor to find some entertainment throughout the night, till you’re now in the back room listening to Clarissa and Lucy rant about their evening.

“I told Simon to let Jasper know I’m not taking him anymore and he persists on me keeping him!” Clarissa groans in annoyance hand hitting the leather sofa with frustration. Her energy radiates annoyance.

“Simon probably didn’t even ask, he’s just saying that… you know how he is,” Lucy responds with an eye roll only making you laugh at the exchange.

“I heard that!” Simon strides into the room with clipboard in hand and sharing knowing glances between each girl.

“Lucy you have private room eighty-six, Y/N you have confidential in three-hundred and twenty-three, and Clarissa you’re on the floor in five! No one should be in the back room on slow nights, you ladies all know this.” The statement only causes the group to exchange displeased expressions.

Clarissa and Lucy stand from the couch and make their way towards their own respective vanities while you get out of your seat and move towards the club manager.

“Confidential?” You question, following him as he begins to walk out the room.

“Yes, same gentleman as your last shift so don’t keep him waiting, quickly now,” His voice rush as he takes your wrist softly in his hand and drags you to the elevator, he sends tight limp smile towards the security guard before nodding his head and stepping away.

Same gentleman as last time. Harry wants to see you again? Even yesterday after the attitude you put up? The thoughts erupt in your mind with each of ding of the elevator. Different emotions course through as you make steps towards the familiar door.

You know you shouldn’t get your hopes up. He’s just like all of your regulars who simply want to see you, another of your clients. Nothing he can say or do will make you change your mind.

Fingers curl around the door knob, you relax your shoulders and let an alluring smile spread on your strawberry colour lips. The bubbling anxiety rumbles in your stomach as you retrieve the door open and move deeper into the room.

He sat on the diamond encrusted sofa, white button up with few undone to reveal ink roaming amongst his collar bones. His back is against the seat with arms laid amongst the sculpted frame, one hand free while the other held a glass of dark liquor. Even though he was sluggishly sitting along the chair, the way his hair was in messy curls and gaze falling to every step you make towards him, you shiver in excitement.

“Mr. Styles.” You smirk, concealing the feelings that spark in you.

Harry’s eyes venture down the expanse of your appearance, lingering extremely long on the way your hips sway, to them eventually staring even longer at your lips while you look down on him. His tongue escapes his mouth to run over his flesh, the hand occupying his drink brings it to his lips.

You let your eyes reciprocate his actions, staring longingly at this disheveled appearance; you admire how charming he looks relax with his ruffled curls and roaming eyes. You want to reach out and brush your hand across his skin but instead you let them slide down your waist comfortably.

“You look good in red.” Harry comments locking sight and smirking at you. His hands twirl the ice cubes in his empty glass that echoes in the space.

Smiling faintly at the compliment, you bow your head at the acknowledgment. “Thank you sir.”

Harry draws his other hand off the frame, fingers reaching into his breast pocket feeling over the contents before pulling out two blue bills. The warmth of his palm melts against your skin as it slips through the space in your robe and slides it into the band of your panties.

“Fill up my glass.”

He’s pushing it into your hand, voice so demanding it makes you confuse at the change of tone. You welcome the cool feel of it before turning around and going to the serving bar located in the room.

With your movements unscrewing the bottle to pour the contents, you hear ruffling from behind. Your heart beats so intensely it begins to give you chest pains. Circling back on your heels and making your way towards Harry, you see another few bills between his fingers as you hold his drink in front of him.

“Sit down.”

You oblige taking the seat next to him, mind completely confused on the change of his behaviour. You know your attitude yesterday may have been uncalled for but this was a different type of treatment. His presence being so cold yet inviting, you can’t tell if you’re scared by him or not.

The hand resting along the couch occupied with papers between his fingers run along the strap of your bra, he tucks the bills there while his gaze goes back to admiring you.

“What are you doing?” You ask, welcoming the his palm going to your breast to feel up your neck and grip your jaw with dominance.

“Do you forgive me?”

Threaded brows press together completely dropping your suggestive demeanour, eyes going to his suited pants until his grip tightens and directs your attention back to his.

“Is that what this is?” You continue, gaze running over the way his jaw flexes. “This money for my forgiveness. I’ve heard worse things in my field of work sir but, I’m very appreciative of the gesture.”

Your hand trails away from your thigh and drags along his knee, body leaning into this scent as you completely fall into your thoughts of this handsome man before you.

“So you don’t forgive me.” Harry responds coolly, the pads of his fingers sink deeper into your skin.

“I don’t care.” You state. Clenching down on your teeth while he releases his hold on your jaw. He rolls his eyes at your words, bringing the glass to his lips.

“You’re so frustrating.”

The comment causes your expression to grow with annoyance.

“Do you want me to dance or not?” Attitude clear in your tone as the palm of your hand continues to glide down the expanse of his thighs.

“No. I just want you to sit there.”

“Why?”

“You’ve been running away from me. So, I’m paying you not to.”

Swallowing hesitantly the previous motions you draw on his skin pause. Sight tearing away from him and falling to your polish nails. Well, aren’t you stuck. Sitting against these velvet seats with erratic heart and sweaty palms. The light beat of the song playing through the space between you both only intensifies the atmosphere even more. The ice smashing against his glass every few moments as Harry brings the drink to his lips.

“What do you want?” You say after a few minutes, fingers fiddling together when you look up at him.

“Isn’t it obvious already?” His voice still lace with frustration as he turns his head.

“You.”

Cheeks burn bright with mouth parting, the emotions he makes you feel… he was also feeling them as well. You distract yourself urgently flickering your eyes between him, trying to collect your words wisely.

“You don’t even know me.” The sentence not causing his gaze to waver. He’s still looking at you with this stone glare.

“So… tell me about yourself.” Harry suppresses the irritation in his voice as he rises his brow.

“Are you serious?” Completely surprised at the change of events.

“Very, now do tell.” Drink in hand gesturing for you to begin.

Suddenly that’s how you spend the rest of your night, introducing yourself to Harry. It range from telling him how you begin working at Jasper’s to how you grew up, and when your mind would dwindle he would ask you his own questions.

“How do you take your coffee?”

“Two creams one sugar.”

“Favourite food?”

“I love Thai.”

And without the disturbance of Simon ushering you to another room after your extended stay with Harry, you grow comfortable. Relaxing in his embrace and answering anything that came to his mind.

This connection that was clouding your judgment is too good to be true, from the introduction of your meeting to the the way your head is nestle in the crook of his neck, you thrive in the affection. Not listening to your overthinking thoughts that stir you in the wrong direction.

Instead, you let him know everything he wants; you tell him your favourite colour and how you like your steak cooked, to even confiding to him about certain clients you weren’t exactly keen of. The fact that you’ve only known the man for three days and was telling him your whole life story was beyond what you could imagine at the moment, he makes you relax and feel acknowledged. It was nice to feel this way after three years.

Since that night Harry began to make his appearance throughout the week. The same room, for the same time, in the exact same position as last. With each meeting he never let you dance or even suggest it, instead he let you talk whether it was anything on your mind or his, that’s how you spent your evenings.

His presence was relief during your hectic week, depending on your availability between clients you spend as much time as possible in his touch and finding serenity in the way his voice soothes you.

It was now Sunday and you were off, deciding on staying in tonight and catching up on Real Housewives. You sat in your loft with Cleo tuck on your lap, fingers digging into the bag of popcorn while the other reaches towards your ringing phone.

“Hello!” You sing, eyes caught on the dinner scene happening before you.

“Not in today?” The voice on the other line making your body shiver with excitement.

“No sorry, I don’t work Sundays… I should’ve told you.” You confess, guilt brews of him going to the club and not finding you there.

“No worries, what are you doing now?”

Eyebrows rise up on your forehead with deep breath releasing, you flick your eyes around immediately taking your hand out of the popcorn bag to grab the remote and lower the volume, body straightening up as you sink your teeth into your lip.

“Miss me already?” Fingers falling to your plump flesh as smirk pulls on the skin. Harry’s laugh sounds through the speaker, the happy cheer making your heart leap.

“Yes. Yes I do, how can I not?” Lashes flutter with smile beaming shyly.

Maybe this was all too good to be true. Maybe this was just a fleeting moment that Harry is having; booking you six nights out of the week, paying you to refill his glass and converse with him. Maybe he was just going through phases, maybe he just thought of you as another one of his toys. But this attention was one you couldn’t pass up; the way he admires at you, the feel of his hands gracing your body for sheer moments, the reassurance of his words when speaking your thoughts. After years of petty affection and surface base material, this for once felt different. It felt genuine even if you’ve only known him within such short time.

“Are you home?” Are his next words to break the silence.

“Yes,” You answer, fingers trailing from your lips to run into your hair nervously.

“Can I come over?” Heart practically melting in your chest at the suggestion.

“Yes.” With blooming hues of pink roaming amongst your cheekbones.

Eager emotions flood your body as you voice your address to him before ending the call. Your hand drops the remote and gently moves Cleo off your lap as you escape towards your room.

What the hell did you get yourself into and what the hell are you even suppose to wear? Your outfit currently being an oversized t-shirt and gym shorts will certainly not do the job as you venture into your closet; skimming over hoodies and dresses. You end on grabbing your two piece yoga set hoping it will suffice compared to how you look throughout the week.

Sitting in front of your vanity you immediately comb through your hair and brush through your lashes. Nerves coursing through your body at Harry coming over. The unusual excitement of getting worked up for seeing someone revels in your mind, you skim over your features intricately to look for something off when you know that there wasn’t anything. There is this need to look your absolute best for him, even you know you already do.

Huffing slightly at the thoughts running through your mind you get up and make your way out of the room and head into the kitchen, fingers immediately lighting candles and then running quickly to the couch to begin folding the blanket you once laid on. If you were being recoded right now you would laugh at how you run across the spacious condo to make sure everything looks in place.

With ideas of the night ahead bombarding your mind the familiar sound of the buzzer quakes in the room making your heart drop. You step away from the couch and move towards the door, hand pressing the button to let him in.

This feeling was as if you were a teenager all over again. These dreamy aspect of emotions being as if you saw your high school crush passing in the hallway. It’s been three years without mental or physical affection, this new found treatment from someone was making you drunk off happiness.

With these nerves overcoming you, the urgency for alcohol to sooth your system lingers in your mind making you go over to your fridge and take out the chilling wine to soon tug your body over to your glass rack and pull two off, you’re setting them on the table when there’s knocking at the door.

Taking a deep breath you count to three, making your way over and unlocking it. Grin toying on your lips with Harry revealing himself adorn in his black suit.

Chest quakes with each pump of your heart as his lips mirror your happiness. Widening the door you let him step into your home, body turning to shut the door before letting your smile turn nervous.

“I know you drink whisky but I only have wine for tonight.” You stammer, body making your way over to the island and gesturing to the bottle of Prosecco.

Harry looks over the bottle, his eye soon falling on yours with smirk appearing. “I’ll have a glass.”

Control motions peel open the new bottle and fill each cup. He takes his drink in hand before humming at the taste.

“Enjoy reality tv?” The question only makes the warmth in your cheek spread further as you look at the television screen displaying women throwing drinks and overturning the table.

“Oh… um… yes,” You stumble over your words, avoiding Harry’s eyes as he chuckles next to you.

“Flustered are we?” He points out, body bumping into you teasingly.

“This is what you came over to do then, just make me a blabbering mess in my own home.” You pout, sight moving away from the granite counter as you lift the wine glass to your lips and look at him.

Amuse expression shines over his face while he shrugs his shoulders in response. “It does make things more interesting.”

“Interesting?” You recite in his own tone.

His hand that rest along the counter passes through the space between you both to let his palm venture down your waist.

“Yes… interesting how displeased with me you were at first yet having this look of want in your eyes.” Your gaze blares, confusion written all over your face while you relax deeper into his touch.

“I —I feel it too.” He’s hesitant before clearing his throat, lashes flutter against the hollows of his eyes as he collects himself. “This pull to be next to you… it’s unexplainable… ever since the first night.”

The words Harry formulates as if he’s just letting his heart expel everything he’s been building up over the week. It makes the one in your chest thunder with admiration.

“And I shouldn’t have said those things… it’s so stupid but my mind went blank and I just…” His brows push together trying to collect his thoughts properly. “The night I saw you at the restaurant it made me realize I really fuck up. I don’t want to do that with you ever again. I want you to trust me, I want you to love me, I want you to—“

But you immediately cut him off letting your emotions spring in and press your lips against his. Wine stain flesh burns on each other as gracious pecks transform into tongues joining together. The hand that trail down your hips run over your backside.

The heat that he expels when he steps deeper as if shielding you with protection has you moaning against him, head tilting slightly to invite the arousal blooming.

As his palm moves further the surprise of his grip tightening around your ass makes you jump, the hand that was wrapped around your glass bumping against the underside of it causing it to tip over.

“Fuck!” The crashing sound of it smacking against the counter makes you part away from him. “I’m so sorry.” You breathe out. Leaving his embrace to go to the paper towel dispenser and beginning to clean the mess. Cheeks burning even brighter from knocking over your wine.

“Relax baby,” Harry coos, hands falling on your nervous ones as you clean up the puddle.

Laughing shyly you shake your head embarrassed by your behaviour.

“You make me anxious,” The confession falling out of your mouth effortlessly as you collect the drench paper.

His palms grip your fingers tightly causing your gaze to catch with his. Instead of an irritated expression he shares one of amusement and adoration.

“Likewise.”

And ever since that night the connection between you both grows stronger; Harry visits during your shifts to meeting you right afterwards. Coming home to bouquet of roses and designer bags, sending you black trucks to take you out to dinner or meeting with you at Bottega Veneta to piece together an outfit for him.

Two weeks of knowing Harry and he was already dazzling you with the most extravagant gifts but still remaining respectful and never letting you dance when he visit the club. You’re absolutely head over heels. He’s always kind and gentle with you, never pushing your boundaries and soothing you with his words. This affection was a breath of fresh air and you’re undoubtedly happy about it.

Although the regard to respect you was admirable, you were beginning to crave more than cherish kisses and subtle touches. A plan brewed in your mine once your eyes peeled open this morning and you decided to put it in motion tonight. So, as you sit in front of your vanity of the club you fix the straps of your embroidered charcoal bra and look over yourself in the mirror.

“Who might you be expecting?” Clarissa calls from across the room. Your glossy lips don’t hesitate to smile as you look towards her.

“I told you about Harry, right?” You remark, letting your fingers run under the band of the bra to fit more comfortable against your skin.

“Oh! That’s who has you in a good mood lately,” Lucy joins in, jet black hair framing her face in layers with smirk written all over her features.

“If you say so,” You sing, turning around in your chair to look over yourself again.

“Don’t think we haven’t been seeing your post lately,” Clarissa marvels while drumming her fingers against the table.

“So generous with his gift-giving,” Lucy continues in her playful tone, only making you giggle.

The heavy steps of Simon thunder against the oak flooring as he makes his way into the room. Head set intact with clip board in hand, he begins to give everyone knowing looks assuring everyone of their duties tonight.

“And Y/N, you have your regular in confidential.” He finishes at the end of his list before turning to usher the ladies onto the floor from the back room.

“Have fun babe, be safe.” Clarissa whispers when passing you with gentle hug.

You smile at her while nodding with assurance. Looking over yourself, you tie your robe together, lips running over one another before stepping out of your chair and making your way towards the familiar room.

Even with spending so many days with Harry, these emotions that quake whenever he’s mention or to soon bare his presence always resonate these deep feelings; this need to feel his touch rougher on your skin or feel him in the sweet places that you think of him most. You knew this was beyond the earlier arrangements of your first initial meeting, this meant more.

Cigarette smoke roams the air as you make your way towards him. He’s in his usual spot, tailor suit gracing his appearance beautifully as you smile at him. Manicure nails drag against the material while his hands feel over your covered hips.

“Hi angel.” Harry says while feeling over your body.

“Baby,” You purr, moving deeper into his touch. “I have a question for you.”

His features raise in question but doesn’t stop his wondering hands from pulling the ribbon of your robe apart and revealing your body to him.

He hums attentively, looking over your face as he continues to roam over your skin. You’re so enthralled by his touch that you nearly forget your plan.

“Tell me how I make you feel.” Statement leaving your mouth with fingers roaming up his neck and playing with the hair there.

Forest eyes flash with worship as his grip tightens against your waist.

“I feel like you’re made for me.” Knees push his apart as you step between his legs.

“I swear you just take my breath away.” Head craning down for your lips to trail kisses along his cheeks to his jaw.

“You’ve imprint my heart so deeply.” Your hands find themselves running over his chest while his roam over your backside.

“That your love feels undeserving for someone like me.” Those words making you swell with sympathy as kisses continue down the curve of his neck.

“It’s so intense I just have to be near you.” Fingers undoing the few buttons of his shirt as you begin to sink to your knees. His eyes lock on you while his hands link together in your hair, the smooth symphony in the air only escalates the tension.

“Feel you.” He continues, eyes fluttering as your hands move away from his chest to feel over his thighs.

“Hear you.” Your fingers glaze over his erection as you both look at each other with lust.

“Be inside you.” Nails dragging roughly over the print with mascara coated lashes batting up at him.

“Tonight’s your lucky night.” You cut him off. Smirk smoothing over your lips as you begin to undo his belt buckle. “Let me help you relax, Mr. Styles.”

Shifting under your hold he watches you retrieve him out of his boxers. Tongue immediately escapes your mouth looking at how thick and heavy he sits in your hand. It makes pure arousal quake between your thighs as you tug him gently, eyes catching with his.

“Been holding out on me.” It’s his turn to send you a smirk. The look alone makes you want to skip foreplay and take him right there.

You lean in with tongue running from the base to the tip. Pressing flat against the underside it leaves trail of saliva in its wake, your mouth enveloping the crown of his cock while his chest raises with pure satisfaction. His hands continuing to run through your hair.

Pleasant moan vibrates through your throat as your mouth ventures down the expanse of him, tastebuds savouring the salty flavour with each descend of your mouth as you find your paste.

Both of you are still set in this hyper-focus trance looking at each other with the pleasing gestures you assert over him. Spit coating his member as you glide down his cock, plump lips wrapping around his girth as you swallow him down.

“S’good,” Harry slurs, one hand leaving your hair to drag along your neck.

Lashes flutter up at him, relishing in the blissful look crossing his face. He slides down your throat effortlessly with your head bobbing swiftly, his cock wrapped in the slick space of your mouth.

Your clit throbs between your legs, the need to have attention there stirs your next movements as you let your hands glide across his thighs and gather his twin globes into your palm and begin massaging them.

The gesture has Harry groaning, nails gliding down your skin in the change in motions. Eye contact breaking as his head falls against the couch with chest rising in urgency. The site alone makes you want to come, but instead you suffice for the whimper that leaves your mouth when letting yourself glide back up his cock.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” Harry moans, fingers trailing away from your neck to collect your hair in his palm.

The comment makes your stomach tremble, his hands following your gracious movements, with sweat beginning to shine from his temples as he chews away on his lip.

“Look at me baby,” He coos, his hold tugging your mouth away from him. Diverting your attention you look up at him; red eyes with saliva glistening across your lips as shaky breath escapes.

“So pretty for me,” Harry utters, thumb running across your bottom lip as his green eyes search your face. “Stand up, get this off.” He reaches over to tug on your robe.

You raise off your knees letting the garment trail off your shoulders as you stand. You’re immediately letting your feet kick off your tall heels, pleasantly sighing at the relaxing comfort at having them off.

The next motions are your hands teasingly pulling your panties down, Harry’s eyes watching every movement as he watches you unclasp your bra next.

His hands reach out for you, feeling over your soft skin as pulls you into him. Straddling his thighs your fingers go to his chest to pull his blazer off, he quickly follows your lead to take it off the rest of the way while you decide to continue undoing the buttons of his dress shirt.

“I want to feel you.” You breathe against his skin.

Gripping his cock in your hand, you gently let him glide between your folds. Harry nods earnestly against your chest, his hold moving from your waist to your breasts, his lips pressing against your fever skin as you let yourself sink down on him. High pitch whimper drawing from your throat as he stretches you out.

“You drive me crazy,” Harry utters with grip tightening as your hips meet each other.

A soft cry releases from your lips as you find the strength to raise back up on your knees and grind yourself into his lap. The thick strain of his dick against your walls has your head falling into his face.

Erotic moans fill the room when your hips discover the perfect rhythm that has him dragging down your folds in the most beautiful way with the combination of him reaching depths of pure bliss.

Harry hand trail away from your breasts and wrap around your throat, rough grasp taking ahold of you as he brings you deeper into his face. From the grip he has to the haunting look in his eyes you are completely devoid of every sense in your body.

“Good girl.” He continues, his thighs positioning himself better on the couch as he begins to thrust and meet your hips in perfect unison.

The name makes your frantic heart gush with devotion, eyes fluttering at the air shortening in your lungs while your nails curl around his shoulders digging into his skin.

“So good for me.” Harry rasps, his merciless strides into your pussy halting your previous movements.

The sweet nectar you produce between your legs sound with each thrust from the satisfying pleasure coursing through you. The static of your climax catches in the pit of your stomach, your eyes rolling from how deep he’s in you that you can’t help but lunge forward.

Lips connecting fiercely with the taste of him making you hum as your tongue explores him. The rough grip he holds around your neck relaxes as he continues his frantic thrusts.

The spark of your release climbs up your spine with fury; head tilting back, eyes fluttering in the thrill of falling apart around him. Your walls quiver in irritated satisfaction as your climax barrels over in passionate rage.

“Tell me…” Harry breathes when pulling away from your face, his eyes watching your dazed out state. Your fingers go numb against his shoulders, with your head completely being propped up by the hold he still has over your throat. “Tell me how I make you feel.”

Completely intoxicated with satisfaction of your release you let your lips begin to pepper kisses along his jaw. The urge to prove to him how much he means to you in this moment has your pussy meeting his rhythmic thrusts.

“Like I’m on fire,” You moan, nails digging into the material of his soaked button up.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to feel you inside me,” Urging him with the seductive tone in your voice. The hands he has wrapped around your neck tenses as he looks at you completely intrigued.

“I —It feels so good,” You whimper as you slowly rock yourself down his length. “You feel so good baby.”

Deep throaty growl shivers over your embrace as his head relaxes deeper into the frame of the couch.

“I want you like this forever.”

The flex of your slick walls around him earns a delicious moan from him. His seed painting your walls effortlessly as you continue to work yourself through his climax. Your fingers travel to his hair and bring your lips back together.

Harry releases his hold from your throat, his palms venturing down your sides and massaging the skin as you lazily ride him. Body relaxing against his comfort as you welcome his kisses.

“Do you even know how weak you make me feel.” Harry breathes against your lips, hands gripping your ass roughly to push you deeper into his chest.

“No… but I like when you tell me.”

371 notes · View notes

hl-obsessed · 4 months

Text

my first fic rec ever! faves from the faves: ✨ and fics i would die for: 💎✨

Have I forgotten how to love; remind me once again by Harrystylesisgod24

(M, 108k) After a serious accident, Harry suffers from a case of retrograde amnesia where he hasn't only forgotten the fact that he is a part of the world-famous band, One Direction, but his fiancé, Louis Tomlinson, as well. Despite being immensely grateful for Harry being alive, Niall, Liam, Zayn, and especially Louis, struggle with accepting that Harry might never remember the many things they experienced together; hell, even their friendship is forgotten. And Louis can't quite push away the crippling fear of Harry not remembering that he loves Louis with all he got. Not that any of that is going to stop Louis from reminding him over and over again.

There You Are by lovelarry10

(E, 82k) Harry’s entire life has fallen apart - in one night, his carefully planned future is suddenly uncertain.

Then he meets Louis.

where the tide takes you, i will follow by @pinkcords

(E, 54k) There’s no way around his departure, their inevitable fate. Harry will leave and he will return to London and when he sits in his new flat, wherever it might be, he will think of this summer and the warmth the sun brought him and the way it felt to be loved. He will compare all his future relationships to Louis and when they fall short, he will be disappointed. Harry knows this.

Or, Louis lives in Gloucester and Harry tries to find a way to stay.

waiting for the tides to meet by @nauticalleeds

(E, 60k) Louis lets out a deep breath, thinking about Harry’s soulmate. Thinking about how Harry’s soulmate is probably as beautiful as Harry, some person that Louis cannot compare to, and how the universe has chosen them to be Harry’s. Fuck the universe. “Fuck you,” he calls out to the universe. He’s aware of how crazy he sounds.

Maybe he is crazy, with how he’s falling for Harry. And fuck that, too.

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly.

The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by @kingsofeverything

(E, 109k) Louis’ life is steady and calm, moored by his marriage, and tied to his hometown, but after a chance encounter with another man, it’ll never be the same.

somewhere in between lightning by @nauticalleeds, @shiningdistraction, jassy117

(E, 99k) A summer gone wrong (or very right) when, under Liam’s persuasion, Louis finds himself drunkenly applying for Love Island, and getting accepted. Oh, well. A summer spent on an island paradise couldn’t be all that bad, right?

Escapade by @haydolce

(M, 146k) In the grand scheme of things, finding a date for a wedding should be no problem for Louis Tomlinson. He's rich. He's handsome. He's reasonably well behaved. But when the wedding is for his lifelong best friend (and former boyfriend), and is happening in under a month, finding a date for the ceremony and accompanying festivities becomes more of an adventure than he ever could have planned for.

💎✨ Take My Breath Away by @realitybetterthanfiction

(E, 154k) Top Gun AU

love is a word, you gave it a name by @larrydoinglaundry

(E, 158k) After two decades in brutal show business, Louis Tomlinson is trying to restore his tranquility of mind in the peace of Northern Europe where the sun barely sets, Maria's bar is always open, and young Harry has an irresistible spark in his eyes.

✨ Shadow Dances by @itsmotivatingcara

(M, 101k) Louis Tomlinson has a begrudging gift, he’s able to communicate with the spirits of the dead. FBI Medium AU

Tired Tired Sea by @mediawhorefics

(M, 113k) As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

For the Right Reasons by @juliusschmidt

(E, 106k) Bachelor AU

Late Night Talking by @kingsofeverything

(E, 53k) Louis Tomlinson has a new album coming out and a second world tour on the horizon. Promo season gets underway with a stop at Late Night Talking, the late night show hosted by Harry Styles, and Harry Styles just happens to be the man who blew a chance to date Louis a decade ago.

technicolor by @creamcoffeelou

(E, 81k) When the small town of Twin Lakes begins experiencing a string of serial murders, a team of detectives is called in to help. Louis is the head of the team and meets a hard-headed psychic who everyone else seems to believe is the one who will solve the case.

Louis isn't so sure.

The slow-burn, hate-to-love, crime au where Harry is a psychic, Louis is a detective, and the world is against them.

This Wicked Game by @cherrystreet

(E, 70k) An AU in which The Bachelor is gay, Louis is a contestant, Harry is the bachelor, everyone drinks a lot of champagne, the entire world gets to watch them fall in love, and no one plays by the rules

Like Water Over Fire (Like Water On Fire) by @mcssymon

(M, 119k) Prince Harry has 46 men and 13 weeks to find the husband of his dreams, Louis has a limited amount to time to live out a royal fantasy. They might just be exactly what the other needs.

Say Something by @kingsofeverything

(E, 105k) At fifty years old and recently divorced, Omega Harry Styles isn't interested in dating. When his doctor suggests a heat and rut matching service, he signs up out of necessity. It’s the only use he has for an Alpha in his life.

Twenty-eight-year-old Alpha Louis Tomlinson aims to change that.

Let Our Hearts Collide by @crinkle-eyed-boo

(M, 77k) When Harry, a lonely transit worker, saves the life of the handsome commuter he's been secretly pining for, an innocent mistake results in Liam Payne's family believing that Harry is engaged to their son. In the Paynes, Harry finds the big family he's always longed for...and a love he never saw coming.

A While You Were Sleeping AU

💎✨ Love After the End of the World by @mercurial-madhouse

(E, 162k) “Wait. Just so I’m clear in me fucking noggin,” Niall says. “An international worldwide takeover is well under way and the only thing standing between having hot showers and a second end of the world is us five fuckers?”

***

Society shattered when all electricity suddenly cut off across the globe, plunging the world into darkness. Now, Prometheus Industries is the sole remaining supply of power, a saving grace to those who survived Lights Out. As fugitives in no-man’s land struggling to break into Prometheus HQ, death lurks around every corner for Louis and Zayn. Things get complicated when a routine recon falls apart and Louis collides with Harry and his mates Niall and Liam, survivors with their own agenda.

When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.

(story sadly has been delated form ao3. link to download here)

✨ Stranger Stars by shaylea

(E, 212k) Five years ago, Africa offered a grieving Louis Tomlinson an escape from an England he couldn't tolerate. Now it's become home as he leads overland tours across the continent with his best friend and driver Zayn Malik. What's meant to be just another ordinary six-week trip from Cape Town to Nairobi turns into anything but, when future lawyer/current photographer and songwriter Harry Styles and his friends join Louis' latest set of passengers.

Gemma's Dad (Could Use A Guy Like Me) by @lululawrence

(NR, 83k) The summer before Louis and Gemma's senior year of college was supposed to be their last big hurrah before they graduate college and become Real Adults in the workforce. They had it all planned and it was going to be filled with mornings skateboarding, afternoons at the pool, and evenings hanging out with as many of the neighborhood kids they grew up with as they can.

Of course, Louis wasn't planning on getting home and learning that Gemma's dad had gotten the house in the divorce and was dealing with things by focusing on work, the house, and his newly planted garden. It becomes obvious early on that Harry is a bit lost and Gemma is worried about him. To help both of them, Louis is more than happy to help Harry find himself again.

As the summer goes on, the adventures and day to day happenings allow Harry and Louis to spend a lot more time together than either of them ever anticipated and Louis finds it more difficult to keep his growing feelings in check than he ever thought it would be. After all, there wasn't a chance that Harry would ever be interested in Louis... right?

red hands by @dystopianharry

(TNU, 133k) "I’ve never told anyone," Harry murmurs, voice so soft no one else would be able to hear, if it wasn’t just the two of them.

“But you’ve told someone,” Louis says firmly. “And that’s not gonna fucking happen around here. You don’t speak a word of it, or someone’s going to kill you, and we can’t let that happen.”

a dystopian au in which harry, an ex-soldier who’s escaped from his government run camp, accidentally stumbles across the biggest rebel movement in the country, and louis, one of the rebellion’s mysterious leaders who appears to hate him, seems to simultaneously have an obsession with keeping him alive. or: harry is wanted for treason, niall hasn’t changed in four years, liam is always smiling, and louis is angry. like, really angry.

another dream but always you by @nobodymoves

(M, 66k) Harry is a Dreamwalker; he has the ability to visit people in their dreams and help put them on the right path. He's assigned to Louis, who's struggling after the break-up of his band. It's an unusual assignment from the beginning; Harry has a crush on Louis, and Louis's subconscious immediately decides Harry is the love of his life. When Dreamers cast Harry as their love interest, he can usually redirect them, but Louis is insistent on being Harry's boyfriend, and despite knowing they have no future, Harry wants to keep up the charade.

Shake Me Down by @agreatperhaps12

(NR, 208k) Harry's new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

Nameless Night by green_feelings

(E, 155k) For their 18th birthday, every person receives a letter that reads a simple date. That is the date you'll meet your soulmate.

Harry and Louis have different beliefs, live in different worlds and have different dreams, hopes and fears. Yet, they're not so different from each other when it comes to love. When their paths cross, there is no doubt they belong together. Except for that one, essential difference: they didn't receive the same date.

Or, a fic about differences that make no difference at all: Harry and Louis are soulmates. In every way possible. Featuring Niall as a role model, and Liam and Zayn as a different kind of role models.

Light, Spark and Fire (series) by green_feelings

(M, 239k) Or, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down, until he builds his own up.

Jump Before We Fall by green_feelings

(E, 114k) Louis and Zayn's lives revolve around running a hotel by the sea, Harry is a student who wants a life far from home for just a little while, Niall doesn't know where life leads him and Liam thinks he has already found all purposes in his life.

✨💎 my heart is breathing for this moment in time by usedtothebeach

(E, 160k) When Louis first saw Harry at the 2010 X Factor Auditions, he thought he was watching a peculiarly special stranger. But Harry has known Louis ever since he was five years old.

Because Louis has a rare genetic disorder that causes him to Time Travel to important moments in his past and in his future - and to Harry, always to Harry. When they're put into a band together, it seems like everything Harry has been waiting and wishing for has finally come true. Except for the small fact that Louis doesn't know that Harry is in love with him- that Harry's always been in love with him. Fate, it would seem, is just getting started.

A story about growing up and growing together, and the impossible love that makes it all worthwhile.

✨ you were in my dream by @harruandlou

(E, 59k) Louis woke up after having a sexy dream about his best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend resolved to never think about it again. He hardly knew Harry, so what difference would it make? But when they are thrown together only a few days later, Louis had to admit, his subconscious might have been onto something.

Desperation Was My Sanctuary by @insightfulinsomniac

(E, 102k) As a PhD student and transplant to New York City, Louis is struggling for both money and companionship. His roommate, Zayn, introduces him to a friend who is involved in New York City's sugar bowl. Reluctantly, he signs up for a sugaring app knowing he’s probably the least conventional sugar baby on the market. If he can find a sugar daddy who will pay his bills without asking him to sacrifice his own preferences and boundaries, he might just be willing to earn a bit of extra cash by faking a relationship with a millionaire.

At the age of 35, Harry’s spent his entire adult life devoted to his career as a fashion designer. With his label, Eroda, steady and flourishing, he finally has time to settle down. When he reflects on his adult life, he realizes that he’s never been in a relationship and therefore feels behind. Shy and insecure in his inexperience, he turns to a sugaring app to manufacture a “test relationship” on his terms.

Turns out, they’re both looking for something unconventional.

A smutty, non-traditional strangers-to-lovers story about finding yourself, friendship, safety, sexual discovery, and an unexpected collision with tender, profound love.

Of Mates and Men by bananaheathen

(E, 630k) In which, Louis and Harry meet as best men for their best friends' wedding... well... sort of.

Or, the one where Harry's just moved back from New York and Louis doesn't believe in romance.

Or, I guess... the one where Zayn and Liam are getting married.

✨ Next to your Heartbeat (where I should be) by jaded25

(M, 130k) "We were meant to be but a twist of fate made it so we had to walk away"

All it takes for them to fall in love is one night. All they have to do is wait one year to see each other again.

Yet, when Louis returns after his year abroad, the boy who's got his arms wrapped around Harry isn't him. It isn't a stranger either, which should make walking away all that easier. After all, friend's don't lust after their mate's boyfriends.

Technically, doing the right thing should be easy - but when has Louis ever been known to taking the easy way out?

✨ For As Long As I Can Remember (It's Been December) by green_feelings

(E, 128k) After recovering from a severe accident that causes Harry to lose his memory of three years, he moves to London to start his life over as a star chef. Little does he know that when he falls in love with Louis at first sight, it’s not the first time they meet.

Featuring an unintentional game of hot and cold, Harry chasing memories that won’t come back, Louis burying himself in work to try and forget what he can’t forget, Liam being torn between two of his best friends, Zayn as a moral compass and Niall saving the day with good music and brutal honesty.

✨🌸🌸🌸✨

part 2 (30-50k)

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holylulusworld · 9 months

Text

Flowers (1) - Sunflower

Summary: A sunflower brings the end. (The sunflower is seen as a sign of hope and warmth, positivity and strength, strong bonds and lasting happiness.)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of FWB arrangement

A/N: A short drabble.

Flowers masterlist

A simple flower shouldn’t make you sad or break your heart.

The sunflower in his hand wasn’t for you, as you thought. He gave it to someone else.

Her name is Dolores, or Dot for her friends. A new agent, and red-haired devil. Everyone believes she’s nice and tough. You know she’s the devil in disguise.

You never liked her but tried to pretend you didn’t see the looks she gave you whenever you got too close to James.

One day she just stumbled into your life, to mess things up between you and him. Who would’ve thought that a pretty face could ruin the arrangement you and Bucky had?

It was sex only. A simple arrangement to find solace in times of need.

For almost three years you and Bucky were inseparable. You were devoted to him, and he would never leave your side for too long.

It was your fault that you believed there was more between you and the brunette super-soldier than physical attraction.

He never brought you flowers or laughed about your non-funny jokes. All he ever did was take you apart in the best way possible.

Bucky is smitten with that pretty agent, and you cannot do shit to stop him from giving her flowers. You never put a label on what you had with him. Now your decision bites you in the ass.

“They are a cute couple, don’t you think?” Another agent said. You didn’t remember her name, and honestly, you didn’t want to. “I wonder if he’s finally going to ask her out.”

You hummed and held back a snarky comment. “Why do you think he will?” You said instead. “He barely knows her.”

“Yeah, but he’s always so happy when she’s around. Usually, Sergeant Barnes is grumpy and broody. But when Dottie is around, he’s a ray of sunshine.”

“A ray of sunshine, sure,” you gritted your teeth when Bucky offered the sunflower to Dot. It hurt too damn much. “How about you mind your business?”

“No need to get bitchy,” she snapped at you. “If you don’t find it romantic when a man gives a woman flowers, it’s not my fault.”

“Well, a few hours ago he gave something better to me,” you gave her a bitchface. “He shouldn’t dance on too many parties, don’t you think?”

She gaped at you, but you didn’t give a shit. It was not the time for pleasantries. Not while you had to watch Dot squeal and hug your man.

You should’ve cried or already missed his warmth. Oddly, all you could think about at that very moment was that no man would ever feel so good inside of you as he did.

You forced yourself to turn around and walk away. If Bucky wanted the sweet agent with a heart of gold, so be it. Crying over spilled milk never was your style.

There are plenty of other fish in the sea…

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#Sunflower #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x y/n

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justagalwhowrites · 1 year

Text

Yearling - Ch. 1: Break

A night out takes a turn. The first chapter of Yearling, a TLOU fan fiction. Find the Masterlist here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 5.6k

AO3 | Next Chapter

Friday, September 26, 2003

Dubois, Wyoming

“They ain’t even that good,” you took a sip of beer, glaring at the girl in the short, white eyelet lace sundress standing near the band on stage. Your Texas accent got stronger when you were drunk. It also got stronger when you were pissed. You were speaking with a full blown drawl now. “I can play better n’them.”

“Baby Doll, you can play better than everyone in town,” Justin leaned down, his head so close to you that you could feel his breath on your cheek, his lips brushing the shell of your ear when he spoke. His arm went around your waist. “Better than you is a damn a high bar…”

You could hear the smile on his voice and you turned around in his arms to face him, eyes narrowed.

“You’re lovin’ this,” you said. “I can tell, you’re just havin’ the time of your life…”

“I ain’t gonna lie to you,” he smirked. “It is fun seein’ you get all worked up over a girl hittin’ on me.”

“I am not!” You swatted his chest. “I just think it’s disrespectful, she saw me come in with you, she should know that you’re gonna dance with the one that brung ya…”

“Hey,” he teased. “I brung you, not the other way ‘round…”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved him off, turning back around and taking another sip of beer just in time to see the girl in question heading to the bathroom with one of her friends. She looked a little green and you smiled a little. Served her right. You looked back up at Justin. “Don’t go thinkin’ you’re hot shit now just because I didn’t like some rancher’s daughter tryin’ to climb you like a tree.”

“Oh I’d never dream that you thought I was hot shit,” he kissed your temple. “Don’t you worry. Need another?”

“It’s Friday night and if I’m gonna listen to that band fuck up ‘Devil Went Down to Georgia’ you better goddamm well get me another,” you said. He just shook his head and worked his way up to the bar. You smiled a little, watching him go, rapping your fingers along the side of your almost empty beer bottle.

You were getting attached to Justin.

He’d started out as something fun to do over the summer when he showed up at the ranch you’d been working at for more than a year now. He was a few years older - not enough to make it scandalous but enough that he knew what the fuck he was doing. He was rugged and handsome and he was happy to buy you beer and whiskey because, at 19, getting your hands on the stuff was tricky. It had started in May with you fucking him.

At first, that’s all it had been. After a few weeks of him staring at you when you were hanging tack back up at the end of the day, you all but cornered him in the barn.

“You got some kind of problem with me, cowboy?” You snapped, getting so close to him that the brim of your hat almost caught his chin.

“No I do not,” he replied. “Unless you count the fact that your ass looks way too damn good in those jeans to be doin’ nothin’ but ridin’ horses all day. Otherwise, I got the opposite of a problem with you.”

“Oh,” you stepped back from him, looking him up and down. He was tall, broad, handsome. He reminded you a bit of the boy you’d lost your virginity to when you were 16 and he’d been working on your parents’ ranch back in Texas. “Well, I’m done for the day, headin’ back to my room. You’re welcome to join if you want to see what else I’m good at ridin’ on.”

You turned and started off toward the bunkhouse. He scrambled to catch up with you and you smirked a little. He was definitely going to be fun.

In August, he asked if you wanted to go to dinner sometime. You frowned, looking over at him, his naked body shiny with sweat.

“Dinner,” you said, incredulous. “With me.”

“That’s what I said,” he replied, looking over at you. “Unless there’s someone else you’d rather go to dinner with…”

“You realize you’re already fucking me, right?” You frowned. “You don’t have to try.”

“Oh trust me, I noticed,” he grinned, a little cocky. “But I’d like to do more than fuck you. So I’m askin’ you to dinner. Gonna try to make a proper lady outta you and all that.”

You snorted.

“No proper lady to be had here,” you said. “But… we can have dinner.”

This was actual date number five. Not that the number of dates meant much when you were already screwing every chance you got.

But you’d gotten to really like Justin, especially now that you were spending almost every spare second together. Maybe love him. A little. You’d cross that bridge when you came to it.

“You know,” he came and pressed a new beer into your hand and took your empty bottle, putting it on a nearby table. “Bet you’d look pretty as hell in a little dress like that…”

He ran his nose along your temple and you glared at him a little.

“OK, first of all, it’s after Labor Day, wearin’ all white like that is tacky,” you said. “Second of all, you get frustrated when I take 10 minutes to tame my hair before we leave, you know how long it takes to look that put together? Longer than you want to wait, cowboy.”

“OK well I’m dyin’ to know where you got that Labor Day thing from. But you’re prettier than her, so I’m sure it wouldn’t take you that long,” he said, smirking a bit. “And I’m not talkin’ about for every day. Maybe if we were to… I dunno… take a trip somewhere.”

“A trip?” You smiled, brows raised. “You tryin’ to take me away from all this, that it?”

“Maybe,” he winked. “Thinkin’ maybe a few days, we run away to a cabin on a lake, find some fun restaurants, I get to spend way more time kissin’ you than usual…”

“Sounds good to me,” you were about to move to kiss him when there was a strange, snarling sound from over his shoulder. You frowned, leaning around him just as he turned to look.

The girl from before - in the stupid white dress - flew at him, her blonde hair tangled, her fingers curved so her nails were more like claws. He stepped back, his hands going up to stop her but she didn’t seem to notice or care.

She jumped, knocking him to the ground as you jumped out of the way, the girl ripping at his shirt before digging her bared teeth into his neck.

“What the fuck!” You yelled, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her backward. She sprawled on the floor next to Justin for a second before she scrambled up onto all fours and tried to rush you. You took your half full beer bottle and throttled her on the side of her head, hitting her with every ounce to strength you had, sending her down to the ground, unconscious.

“Shit!” A man near you looked between you and the girl.

“Hey, she fuckin’ started it!” You snapped. “She just tried to take a chunk out of my boyfriend’s neck!”

Someone else got down on the ground with the girl as Justin got to his feet. You looked at his throat, her teeth marks red and oozing.

“Jesus, she got you good…” you frowned, leaning in close.

“We should call the cops,” the man near you said.

“And that’s our cue,” Justin took you by the elbow and started pulling you to the door.

“Hey, we didn’t do a damn thing wrong,” you said as he dragged you along beside him. “She went fuckin’ nuts…”

“Yeah but that’s your third beer of the night and you’re 19,” he said quickly. “Rather not get in trouble for buyin’ you booze…”

“That’s the girl that hit ‘er!” Someone yelled. You looked up at Justin.

“Run!” Justin pulled you with him as the two of you took off, him clearing a path with you at his heels until you were in the parking lot, a handful of people on your tail.

“Sure hope you ain’t drunk!” You said as you jumped into the passenger side of his rusted pickup.

“Sober enough to get us outta this,” he said, turning the key and holding it until the old engine turned over with a growl. He floored it, nearly taking out the front of a sedan on his way onto the main road.

He careened through town at 80 until the streetlights had faded in the distance and the sky was bursting with stars.

“What the fuck was her problem?” You crawled to the middle of the bench seat and tried to get a look at his neck. “Maybe you should go to a hospital, this looks bad…”

“I’ll just clean it up when we get back,” he waved you off. “I’m too eager to find out what kind of sex I get as your boyfriend…”

“What?” You sat back, incredulous.

“You called me your boyfriend back there,” he smirked. “I’m really ready to find out what that means once I’m in your bed…”

“Oh, Jesus,” you shoved him playfully. “You got a one track mind. And you shouldn’t read too much into what I say when I’m defending myself because some psycho tried to take a chunk out of ya.”

He winked and you rolled your eyes.

The two of you made it back to your room without any more excitement - something you were plenty thankful for. Once you were inside, you took Justin’s plaid button down off and draped it over your worn wooden desk chair before getting out your first aid kit. You usually used it for patching up cuts when a horse did manage to throw you - a rare occurrence - or when you weren’t paying close enough attention and cut yourself on barbed wire - less rare.

You frowned at the bite mark, the skin around it red and angry, as you cleaned it with rubbing alcohol and applied a bandage.

“This looks infected,” you said. “Really should take you to a hospital…”

“Nah,” he waved you off. “I’ll go to a doctor in a day or two if somethin’ ain’t feelin’ right. I’m fine, Baby Doll, really.”

He tugged you onto his lap and kissed your cheek.

“You’re cute when you’re worryin’ though,” he smiled a little. “If I’d known all it took was some rancher’s daughter gettin’ handsy with me to get you to be all over me, callin’ me your boyfriend, I’d have done it sooner…”

You rolled your eyes and shifted so you were less sitting on his lap and more straddling him and his hands went to your waist.

“See if you were in a dress, this’d be easier…”

You glared at him.

“You’re not careful I’ll give you a matchin’ bite mark on the other side of your neck.”

“Oh, from you, I’d welcome it,” he smiled, kissing you as he unbuttoned your shirt.

You ground your hips down against his as he undressed you, his hands exploring you as he kissed you. Once you were bare from the waist up, he pulled you down on the bed and you crawled down his body, opening his pants and stroking his hardening length a few times before taking him in your mouth in one, swift motion.

“Fuck, Baby Doll,” he groaned, one of his hands going to your hair. “Fuckin’ love your mouth…”

You hummed in approval, making his legs twitch as you sucked him, bobbing your head up and down his length as his fingers dug into your scalp. You worked his cock until he pulled your head roughly away from him, panting for breath.

“Really don’t want to come before I have a chance to properly fuck ya,” he said, grip loosening on your hair.

“So demanding,” you teased, looping your fingers over the top of his jeans and boxers, pulling them both down his legs and leaving them on the floor. You took off your own jeans and underwear, too, and crawled up his body, leaning over him to grab a condom from your bedside table. He took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked you as your breasts hung over his face, his fingers sinking into your hips.

He reluctantly released you when you moved back down to straddle his thighs, opening the wrapper and sliding the condom on over his thick length. You looked at him naked in front of you and rubbed two fingers through your slit, spreading the wetness that had gathered there.

“You gettin’ wet from suckin’ me off has to be the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen,” his hands slid up your legs as he watched you arrange yourself over him.

“I’m so busy thinking about this the whole time I can’t help it,” you said, breathless, as you sank down onto him. He groaned as you did, your body slowly and surely taking all of his cock into you. Your hips met his and you ground yourself down against him, his hardness just big enough to stretch you enough to satisfy. You rode him like that, rubbing your clit as you did, his hands on your hips as you worked yourself to an orgasm on his length, coming around him with a whimper.

He took advantage of your orgasm and grabbed you, flipping you onto your back and driving into you as you rode out the last waves of pleasure, arranging your legs so he was pressing deeper. You groaned as he started to fuck you harder, faster, the force of it making your tits bounce.

“Love seein’ you come on my cock,” he grunted. “Love seein’ how this tight little pussy takes me…”

He ground himself in as deep as he could reach, your body tightening around him again.

“Fuck, I love you,” he gasped it out as he started to come deep inside you, spilling into the condom.

Your eyes went wide and your orgasm hit - soft and subdued but not entirely put off by his words. He collapsed beside you when both of you were spent, your own slick leaking out between your legs. You stared up at the ceiling.

“Knew boyfriend sex would be good,” he teased, a little breathless and smiling at you.

“Yeah, about that,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows. “What did you say at the end there?”

He frowned.

“I said…” and his eyes went wide. “Oh shit… I didn’t mean… I don’t expect… Look, I…”

“Did you mean it?” You asked, brows raised.

He flinched.

“Maybe,” he said. “But I wasn’t plannin’ on sayin’ a damn thing about it to you, alright? So please don’t freak out about this, OK? I feel like we’re in a good place…”

“I…” you paused. “Well I dunno if I love you yet or not but… I do like you. A lot. You’re kind of my favorite person so… I might love you a little. But just a little.”

You shrugged and fell back down onto your back. He smiled.

“Well, you’re my favorite person, too.”

“Don’t read too much into it,” you smiled a little.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Baby Doll.”

He rolled over to kiss you before getting out of bed. You frowned.

“Gonna go rinse off,” he said. “I’m feelin’… I dunno, just off.”

“I’m telling you, that stupid bite is infected,” you called after him as he went to shower. You waited until you heard the water turn on and got out bed yourself, getting his shirt from the chair and shrugging into it. It hung on you and you had to roll up the sleeves. You smiled a little at the physical representation of him enveloping you, the shirt smelling like his cologne with the faint smell of hay below it - a smell he never seemed to really shake. You liked it.

You got your guitar from its stand in the corner and settled back down on the bed, tuning it briefly before just noodling on it. You’d been experimenting with a combination of chords and the rhythm you could get from tapping on the guitar body itself.

“That’s soundin’ good,” Justin said, coming out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. He got is boxers off the floor and stepped into them, draping the towel over the chair.

“Thanks,” you said. “Not sure what I’m gonna do with it yet but something eventually… Feeling any better?”

“Bit worse actually,” he frowned. “Maybe I should go back to mine, what if I’m comin’ down with somethin’. Don’t need to be gettin’ you sick, too…”

“You were just inside me, Justin, whatever you got I’m gonna get,” you rolled your eyes. “Assuming it’s contagious and it’s not from that damn bite.”

“She wasn’t rabid,” he teased, climbing into bed beside you. “Sure I just picked up somethin’ somewhere…”

You put the guitar down beside the bed and curled into him, falling asleep breathing in the smell of hay on his skin.

His twitching is what woke you up.

“Justin,” you whispered, nudging him. He didn’t respond. “You’re dreaming, c’mon baby…”

You gave him a shake but he didn’t wake up. You sighed and untangled yourself from him and the sheets. You grabbed your panties off the floor and ducked into the bathroom. If you were awake, you might as well pee. You did that, chugged a glass of water and went back into the bedroom.

It was uncommonly dark, the new moon making it so there was almost no light coming in through your windows. You nudged Justin again as you tried to get under the covers.

“Hey,” you shook him a little more firmly this time. “Baby, you’re dreaming something crazy…”

He responded then, taking in a deep, raspy breath, his movements still sharp and jerky.

“Justin?” You said quietly. “Hey, it’s me, it’s…”

He shrieked, sounding like the girl at the bar and you shocked back from him, jumping away just as his fingers reached and groped for you.

“This isn’t funny!” You yelled, stumbling over your guitar as you backed away from him. You squinted, barely able to make out his writhing in the bedsheets in the dark. “Justin, cut it the fuck out!”

He just shrieked again before he fell to the floor with a thud, his breaths still coming in deep, rasping pants.

“Justin?” You crept toward his side of the bed cautiously. He snarled and scrambled, on all fours, for you.

It shocked you so much that he got ahold of your ankle, yanking you onto the ground so hard that it made your brain rattle in your skull, his fingers digging harshly into your flesh as he dragged you closer.

You fought without really thinking about how or why or who, you just kicked as hard as you could with your free leg, catching the side of his head with your knee. He shrieked and released you and you scrambled back from him, pulling yourself up by your bed to run around to your nightstand. You yanked the middle drawer open - just below where you’d grabbed a condom just hours before to put on the man who was now bent on killing you - and pulled out your hand gun.

“Justin!” You were crying. You almost never cried. You weren’t sure when you’d started. “Please! I don’t want to do this, please!”

He snarled and lunged for you again and you pulled the trigger. He collapsed immediately and you screamed, fumbling to turn on the lamp on your side table.

“Justin?” You got down on the ground next to him. You’d shot him in the chest, right by his heart. The rattling sound of his breaths were gone. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please…”

You sobbed, instinctively trying to put his blood back inside of him. If you could just fix it, put it back together, he’d be OK, he’d wake up and be Justin again and everything would be fine. That had to be the way it worked, it was the only thing that made sense…

You barely noticed it, out of the corner of your eye. He’d pulled the bandage off his neck at some point, the violent bite mark on display and a fibrous, vine-like tendril reaching out from his throat. Reaching for you.

You yelped and scrambled back from him, your gun still in your hand. The thing was still moving, with a mind of its own.

“What the fuck?” You were panting for breath. His body twitched and you did the only thing you could think to do.

You ran.

“Help me!” You ran out front of the bunk house, gun still in your bloody hands. “Please! Help me!”

You heard it before you saw it, the rattling breath and the inhuman snarl. Like the girl at the bar. Like Justin.

It was Keith, one of the older ranch hands. He worked with the cattle. You’d almost never seen him so much as jog and here he was, running for you, snarling, his hands in a claw-like shape.

“Stop!” You held up the gun. “I ain’t jokin’, I will shoot you!”

He kept coming, the snarling getting louder. You fired, shooting him in the head by the glow of the light on the barn. He collapsed where he stood as you heard something crash against the door of one of the other rooms at the bunkhouse. Like someone was hurling their body against it, trying to break free.

You looked around, frantic. There was only one thing you were sure of: you’d get torn apart if you stayed here. You didn��t know why, you didn’t know what caused it, but you knew you were going to die if you didn’t get away.

You ran to the paddock where you’d been working with a horse, a filly who was just past her yearling stage. You’d been breaking her in, now that she was old enough, barely to dumb broke, just starting to carry a rider and learn commands. She was there, asleep in the grass. You jumped the fence, not wanting to risk going in the barn where there were sometimes still people, even at this hour.

“Hey Nike,” you whispered. She roused with a whinny. You’d named her for the goddess of victory and you hoped that meant she’d help you win whatever the fuck battle was apparently happening here today. “We gotta get goin’ sweet girl…”

You coaxed her to her feet and she shook her head, her mane bouncing. You jumped on her back and realized that you hadn’t even put on shoes or pants, you’d been in too big a hurry to get the fuck out of your room. But it wasn’t safe to go back, not now. You’d have to make do. You tucked your gun into the waistband of your panties. Nike pranced, impatient below you.

“We’re gonna get the fuck out of here,” you said. “You and me.”

You leaned forward and took some of her mane in each hand, one on each side of her neck. You couldn’t afford to go and get reins, you hoped this would be enough.

“Lets see if we can make you a jumper…”

You nudged her forward and got her moving. There was more snarling from the bunkhouse, louder now. Something must have gotten through a door… you shuddered, thinking about it.

Once she was up to a good clip, you pointed her at the fence line and drove her to it, adjusting your weight and pulling back on her, hoping that she’d figure it out.

She did, you barely hanging on as she sailed over the fence posts.

“Good girl!” You said, driving her toward the woods at the edge of the property. “It’s you and me, Nike. You and me. We’re going to get through this, we’re going to get help, we’re going to get through this.”

You said it more for you than your horse as you rode into the dark of the forest, the ranch and the bodies of the first men you ever killed behind you.

***

Sunday, November 2, 2025

“Been quiet today,” Tommy said from beside Joel, the gentle crunch of the snow under the feet of their horses the only other sound on the cold air.

Joel groaned.

“Jesus, Tommy, why don’t you just ask for us to get swarmed by infected,” he glared at his little brother.

“Don’t tell me you’re superstitious now, brother,” Tommy smirked a little. “You and I both know that whatever I say don’t got shit to do with anything that happens later.”

“It will if I deck you for sayin’ stupid shit,” Joel replied. “And I ain’t superstitious, I’m just smart enough to not say somethin’ that goddamn dumb in the middle of a patrol.”

The men were, at this point, about a four hour’s ride from Jackson, Wyoming. But they’d been taking it at a slow pace because - as Tommy had rightly and stupidly pointed out - it had been a quiet day. A quiet day in a quiet month.

Raiders seemed to have gone dark - either hunkering down for the coming winter or migrating elsewhere. So had infected, though they knew they could put that on their migratory patterns. Stupid fungus was smart enough to know that the humans it occupied couldn’t hold up in extreme cold and that their host bodies would freeze and die if they stayed too far north during the winter. Things thinned out this time of year.

“We should turn around and head back soon,” Tommy said. “We cut over a few miles, we’ll be able to sweep up and check a different area…”

“You know this shit better’n me,” Joel shrugged. “Just don’t be surprised if we come up on a pocket of raiders now…”

Tommy rolled his eyes as they rode up on a stream. He nudged his horse to follow it, cutting back toward Jackson.

They’d only been following the path of the stream for about 20 minutes when Joel first noticed it. The sign of footprints, then blood.

“Tommy,” he said quietly, nodding his head at it.

“Shit,” Tommy sighed, shaking his head.

“You said it was quiet,” Joel said, trying not to smirk at him.

“Fuck you,” Tommy replied, steering his horse to follow the footprints.

They didn’t have to go far, the snow growing steadily redder the further they went, until there was a body face down on the ground.

Joel slid off his horse and crouched next to the man, checking for signs of life even though it was pretty obvious that there weren’t any. He rolled the man over. There was a sizable knife buried in the man’s chest but that’s not the thing that caught Joel’s attention.

“Jesus Christ,” he looked up at his brother, still on horseback. “Tommy, look at this.”

Tommy frowned, dismounting and squatting down next to Joel.

“Oh fuck,” he said. “Was that… infected?”

The man’s face had been nearly torn apart, nail marks like some kind of feral animal had gotten to him but they were distinctly human, little half-moon shapes dragged through his flesh that had gushed blood. He’d been alive when something - someone - got to his face.

“Ain’t ever seen one go at someone quite like this,” Joel said. “And infected don’t use knives…”

“Maybe suicide if he got bit?” Tommy shrugged.

Joel looked over the body and found a gun with plenty of ammo and nodded to it.

“Well then, never mind,” Tommy frowned. “Jesus, he pissed off someone…”

“The fuck knows who,” Joel said, looking him over more to see if he could find any signs as to where the man had come from. There were a few thick zipties in the man’s back pocket. Joel sighed and held them up for Tommy to see. “Well, probably plenty. I’m bettin’ he’s a raider, probably tryin’ to bring in someone who fought back a little harder than expected…”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Tommy sighed, getting up again. “Grab the guns I guess, knife too. See if we can’t find who fucked him up.”

The men mounted up again and rode on. They found another body, this one shot dead and not scratched to hell, though one look at the nails - free of blood and torn flesh - told Joel this was another raider and not who they were after.

“Joel,” Tommy nodded at another set of tracks, starting with little drops of blood in the snow and coloring it more crimson as the path wore on.

“Shit,” he sighed, steering his horse to follow the path.

They didn’t need to go far.

Ahead was a body in the snow, splayed out on the ground, splotches of red and pink around it. Joel dismounted and approached slowly. He could sense that this was different. This was who the raiders had been after.

He moved cautiously, almost afraid to see what the raiders must have done to you if you’d done that kind of damage to them. You were bloody but he wasn’t sure the source of it from a quick glance. Your face was bruised and he could see signs of you being bound on your exposed wrist, the skin ringed in harsh and angry red.

“Jesus,” Tommy breathed, coming up along side Joel.

He noticed it then, the small, almost imperceptible movement of your chest. Joel tapped Tommy’s arm and nodded toward your torso.

“Oh shit,” he said.

Your eyes fluttered open and you took a sharp breath, struggling onto your elbows and hands, trying to drag your broken body back away from Joel and Tommy.

“Woah!” Tommy held up his hands. “Not here to hurt you, you’re OK, we’re just gonna try to help…”

“Fuck you,” you spat - literally, blood and spittle flying from your lips as you tried to get a full breath. “Don’t touch me!”

“Hey,” Joel got down on your level, his hands up, and met your eyes. There was something in them that felt familiar. Something that he wanted to protect. “It’s OK. We’re not like them, those men back there. Guessin’ you killed ‘em?”

You nodded once. Your eyes were so wide, you were so afraid. It reminded Joel of a baby deer, fragile and wild.

“You did good, Bambi,” he said, keeping his hands where you could see them. “Fucked ‘em up real good. We’re from a settlement, few hours from here. It’s a good place, we’ve got a doctor who can help you…”

“Can’t walk a few hours,” you said through gritted teeth.

“I know,” Joel said, nodding to your torso. “Mind if I take a look? See where that blood’s comin’ from? I’m just gonna lift your shirt, not gonna touch you.”

You looked at him for a moment before you gave him a stiff nod. He gingerly raised the bloody fabric - you weren’t wearing nearly enough layers to be out in this weather, just jeans, boots and a button down - and examined your stomach. There were two bullet holes there. He winced. He wasn’t a doctor but he knew getting shot in the stomach was bad. He noticed a raised scar on your hip, just below and to the left of your belly button, a branded letter M. His stomach turned. The fuck had happened to you?

“It’s bad,” you managed. “Just shoot me, better… better than dyin’ with them.”

“She’s right, Joel,” Tommy said, his voice low. “She’s lost a lot of blood, dragging her back to town’s just torture at this point…”

You’d fallen back into the snow, struggling to breathe, your eyes closed. But he remembered your eyes, the warmth wrapped in something harsh and sharp.

He realized then what they reminded him of, who you reminded him of. Tess. You were a survivor, like Tess. He hadn’t been able to save her, either. He’d failed her, too.

“Bambi,” Joel said, just sticking with the name. He figured you’d offer your real one if you wanted to. You opened your eyes again. “Now, I’m gonna have to touch you for this but I’m gonna be as gentle as I can…”

“Fuck you,” you winced. “Just…”

“Not going to just let you die out here in the cold,” Joel shrugged out of his jacket and held it out to Tommy. “Gonna get you on my horse - it’s OK if you pass out, I’ll hold onto ya - and we’re gonna get you back with us.”

“I don’t…” you began but Joel slid his arm below your legs and the other behind your ribs and he gently, slowly, lifted you into his body. You cried out in pain but he held onto you, putting you on the horse as best he could.

“Sorry, Bambi.” You instinctively wrapped your fingers around the saddle horn as your body slumped forward and you whimpered. He mounted up behind you and held his hand out to Tommy, who handed him his coat. He draped it over your shivering frame and tugged you against him. Your head lolled back against his chest and you groaned. Your eyes were closed. He wondered if you were conscious.

“This is damn stupid, Joel,” Tommy said, mounting his horse again.

“Couldn’t just leave her out here,” Joel said. “You know we couldn’t.”

Tommy sighed.

“Let’s get back,” he said. “Maybe, by some miracle, this won’t all have been for nothin’.”

“And you said it was a quiet day,” Joel said, starting off at a faster clip this time.

Tommy sighed.

“Fuck you.”

A/N: Hi everyone! Welcome to Yearling! I hope you've enjoyed it so far and that you'll come to love Bambi and Joel as much as I have as I've been thinking about and planning this story for the last month or so.

You can expect updates a few times a week here as I have brain rot and really only want to write this stuff :)

I'll start a tag list, please let me know if you'd like to be added!

Thank you so so much for reading! I hope you stick around and go on this journey with me. Love you!

Next Chapter

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #slow burn

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lesbianneopolitan · 5 months

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Life's too short to be dancing with the devil~♪

#My art #rwby #hazbin hotel #Exorcist AU #neopolitan

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madelynraemunson · 1 year

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CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ plz

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

Chapter 002: Wing Man

You start your first night of work. Eddie requests a private show. But not for him; for his friend — a rich and lonely bachelor who can’t seem to get over his ex.

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020

word count: 7.2k words

NSFW — lap dance, steve creaming his pants, abusive relationships, talks of trauma, steve and reader trauma dumping lol

pairing: lonely bachelor!steve x fem!exoticdancer!hargrove! reader (and lowkey eddie)

author’s note: yes we get with steve before we get with eddie, but we will get there okay??? 🫣🫣🫦 also don’t tell me you guys wouldn’t homie hop in hawkins because these men are SO FINE

tags: @changemunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n

“Let me see you dance I love to watch you dance. Take you down another level, and get you dancing with the Devil” -Wicked Games by The Weeknd

♡

A sultry black set.

A hot pink set with bows. Caribbean blue. Army green for the military men. Some cuffs. Personal wet wipes. Sanitizer. And lastly, a stethoscope to play the part.

“I can’t believe you accepted a caregiving job,” Max scoffs as you both make your way out of Scrubs 4 Less. “Do you even have healthcare experience?”

Your stepsister loved to mask her prying with carefully crafted screening questions. Even if they sounded pessimistic.

“Sure I do,” you shrug. “Remember that summer I cared for Great-Aunt Dotty when she had Parkinson’s? Figured maybe it’d be similar.”

“I guess.”

You take it upon yourself to remind Max that you are certified in CPR. And with that cert, you saved numerous people from drowning as a lifeguard. Of course that was for one year during high school, but it was experience nonetheless.

"Well, what about the heavy lifting?"

"Easy. All in the legs." you pat your thighs. Despite being calm on the outside, you are getting nervous now. About everything.

"Takes a lot of core strength too. And upper body."

It's like she knows what you actually will be going to be doing. However, there are parallels between both professions, and you made sure you made a choice like that so you wouldn't have to lie as much about the physicality of things.

"You seemed to have gotten the job pretty fast,” Max notes.

"Nursing homes are really short staffed. Especially with the pandemic and everyone leaving from all the burnout, they’ll take anybody who qualifies."

"Did they even determine if you do?"

"Are you questioning my ability to take care of people?”

You know you’re being manipulative. You can spot a manipulator from a mile away. But this little white lie is for you and Max’s own good. Even if it means selling her a fake story. Even if it means lying. Living a double life.

“An abusive home life and all-timers isn’t comparable.”

“Have you considered that some people with Alzheimer’s are combative as well?”

“And you had to accept the graveyard shift?” she pries further, ignoring all your valid points.

“It pays more,” you answer sharply, readily. “Two dollar shift differential.”

“Oh my god, we’re practically millionaires.”

The sudden change in Max's behavior is really catching you off guard. She was optimistic on her birthday. A little withdrawn when the weekend was approaching. Now the pain is evident it is almost unbearable. Sure, Billy isn't a problem anymore, but with all of his chaos, Max has found solace in using her hobbies as coping mechanisms. Her body needs that adrenaline, and now you have cut off access to all of it.

Max can't go surf. She can't run around freely just yet because she doesn't know good routes and trails. She doesn't have friends in the area besides you, Robin, and Vicky. She misses Donovan.

Max is hurt. You know she is, but you don't blame her. Still, you’ve had it.

“Hey.” you snap.

Max halts. She knows she went too far.

“I know it's sucky... the situation we're in right now," you sigh. "But I'm doing this for us, remember? It’s temporary. We just need a soft place to land, and this is paving the way towards that.”

At least that’s something you didn’t have to lie about: It’s a sacrifice you were making for her.

———————𓆩♡𓆪—————-

Orientation day comes in a blink of an eye.

Eddie is giving you a tour of Hellfire while discussing how his particular ‘system’ works. You’ve got to give him credit. His system makes sense.

“I don’t ask my girls to pay to dance here,” he explains. “I just think that’s bogus. Also, it’s Hawkins. Not that many competitors, so if I let you dance here, you’re automatically staff.”

You two walk down the hall. Eddie shows you where you would clock in and out, promising you your punch-in code by the end of the week. You learn that everyone gets paid out every Friday, because in Eddie’s words, “fuck that biweekly shit”. Tips go home with you every night, but you are expected to help tip out staff members patrons don’t really see or interact with. Therefore: Jonathan’s girlfriend Nancy whose House Mom, Henry, and Argyle. The boys make their money from bussing and serving. Jonathan earns tips from POTIONS.

“I figured as much.”

You graze your hand along the kukris on the wall as Eddie talks. He stops to take note of it and gives you a boastful smile.

“You like ‘em?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool.”

“That’s the perk of owning your own business,” Eddie says exuding a lazy stretch to graze the kukris himself. “You choose where the money goes, when it goes, how it goes.”

He ponders for a while longer.

“Most of the time at least.”

Clearly a majority of the money also went to the chicken wings.

Eddie leads you to back of the house where he then proudly showcases his wing menu to you. There’s the Hawkins Hot Chick for Nashville inspired hot chicken. Chicken Strippers for the picky eaters. And the ‘Hot As Cluck’ buffalo wings with spice scales named after Metallica songs: Fuel (mild), Fight Fire with Fire (medium), Creeping Death (hot), and The Unforgiven (Extremely hot). All are served with one’s choice of carrots and celery or crinkle cut fries on the side.

“Crinkle cut fries are the best kind of fries,” Eddie states. “Ain’t that right, chef?”

“Ay ay!”

One chef. For the entire back of the house. Though that seems like the textbook definition of a staff shortage, the friendly Latino man with long, black hair that he concealed with a hairnet and baseball cap most likely had it covered. He flashes you a kind grin with kind, hooded eyes to match, quite possibly revealing to you that he’s likely stoned out of his mind. But if it helps him through the shift…

“Argyle’s the man,” Eddie explains. “Pitched the chicken wing idea to me when we were both blasted.”

Suspicions confirmed.

“Is it just Argyle?” you inquire waving hello to him.

“Sometimes Eds helps out back here too,” Argyle answers for him. “Like when we’re really fucking shlammed, he’ll come back here and help cook.”

Argyle turns to you. You smile at him.

“But most of the time I got it,” he says. “That man’s got enough on his plate.”

“Yeah, Argyle’s a beast,” Eddie confirms. “Don’t know what I’d do without him.”

While Eddie tidies up back of the house, you and Argyle converse with one another. He’s 28, produces music on the side, and learned how to cook from his mom at the age of three. California native as well. By observing the mini station he has set up, you notice that Argyle keeps a stash of Yerba Mate with him at all times, and some bud in his mini gym bag. You also learn that he and Eddie often take breaks together, hot boxing one another’s vans as if it were some sort of competition. But, as Argyle had mentioned, with how much Eddie currently has on his plate, those joint breaks (no pun intended) have been pushed to the backburner.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Hargrove,” Argyle concludes. “Excited to have you on our team.”

“Likewise!” you shake his hand with a smile. “Looking forward to bugging you for chicken wings.”

“You bug me all you want, mamas,” he insists. “I’ll make you allll the chicken wings in the world.”

“You a flats girl or a drumstick girl?” Eddie questions.

“Flats,” you respond instantly.

You receive a distraught gasp from the cook while Eddie cackles.

“Atta girl,” Eddie smirks patting your back. “I knew I liked you.”

“BLAS.PHE.MY!” Argyle screams. “Drumsticks are where it’s at bro.”

The three of you argue back and forth about chicken for the next couple of minutes, Eddie sticking beside you through and through. Though play-fighting with your new coworkers seems meniscal in the grand scheme of things, you reveled in it. It’s the first time in a while you felt a sense of community outside your sister. You wanted to savor it, especially since you know that this is temporary.

“You’re a red flag, Hargrove,” Argyle jokes, clutching his chest. “You were perfect in my eyes until you said you were a flats girl.”

“Well it’s a good thing she’s mine and not yours,” Eddie jeers.

Your heart flutters. Eddie and chicken wings. You’ve GOT to be in heaven.

“Alright, word,” Argyle calls after Eddie as he pulls you away from the kitchen. “Word. I’m still gonna spoil her with food like she’s mine though.”

“He’s such a flirt,” Eddie says to you once you’re both out of earshot. “Endearing and endangering at the same time.”

“All in good nature right?”

“‘Course!” he exclaims. “We’re all about respecting women at Hellfire. Everything’s lighthearted banter.”

And you’ll revel in that too. Especially since ‘respect’ and ‘lighthearted banter’ weren’t things you were able to experience at home.

“Also!” Eddie adds. “Respectfully… Wear something simple but classy on Friday.”

“Ooh,” you chime. “Simple and classy?”

“Yeah, I’m talking neutral tones. Red lipstick also preferred but you can do whatever you want. I’ve got something I need you to do for me on your very first day.”

I’ll do anything for you, Eddie. Your intrusive thoughts are starting to take over.

———————𓆩♡𓆪—————-

It’s Friday night now and everyone is in their respective stations preparing for the rush. Argyle is prepping the fryer while Chrissy flirts with him for nachos. She waves at you with her fingers and gestures that you can have some too. You smile and mouth a, “thank you” to her.

You really like Chrissy. Of all the dancers you’ve seen so far, she is the most memorable. She is charming and sweet, soft but firm with her boundaries. She has regulars lining up for her daily, all with different types of quirks and interests. But Chrissy somehow fits all of their molds, just by how fast she can switch from doe to siren depending on her audience. You want to be just like her.

You and Eddie stop by the kitchen before heading off to finish orientation. There are chicken wings — flats only, of course — on the line waiting for you with a note scribbled on the back of an old ticket order.

“Shy Girl<3”

“Eat up, mamas,” Argyle encourages you. “Gonna need the energy for tonight.”

“Yeah!” Chrissy cheers. “It’s Fridaaay!”

You thank them before heading out with Eddie once again. Eddie steals a flat from you and flashes a thumbs up to the cook before you two leave.

“Mm,” he approves. “Fight Fire with Fire Buffalo.”

You are just about done with wrapping up orientation training and ready to start the first night on your own. That is until Mike Wheeler, Nancy’s younger brother and bus boy, comes along and interrupts Eddie’s train of thought. You walk with Eddie in silence, munching on your food while Mike relentlessly hounds him about bringing his girlfriend into the club. She is 18 but Eddie is refusing.

“But but-” Mike stammers. “The club is already eighteen plu-”

“But nothing,” Eddie interrupts. “This is Hellfire Club. Not babysitting club.”

“Well I’m 19 and you let me work here. Why does it matter if she’s 18?”

“Because you’re a dude, Wheeler,” Eddie hisses in return. “It’s different for the ladies.”

Not willing to risk any liabilities, he leaves Mike with just that. You follow Eddie, fiddling nervously with your hands as you watch him tsk and shake his head in disapproval.

“I can’t have teenage girls in here,” Eddie mutters. “That’s just blatantly obvious right? Or have I lost it?”

“No, right. Totally!” you agree.

Eddie has another rule. No strippers under the age of 20. Anyone under, including ages of 18 and 19 are children to him. He admits that he gets squeamish when guys bring their younger looking girlfriends into the club. You assume it pertained to his colleague’s girlfriends too.

You walk past the bar with Eddie, waving hi to Jonathan as you did so. Dustin is at the bar as well but is too busy to say hello. You manage to glance over and watch him fix his hair, trying to look his absolute best while FaceTiming his Mormon e-girl from Utah, Suzie. After eavesdropping for the past couple of days, you pick up that she insists on video chatting with Dustin every time he is at Hellfire to ensure his fidelity. Suzie wanted to be his “only wifey” to which ‘Dusty Bun’ assures her that she is.

“Uh oh,” comes a voice ever so soft it sounds eerie when it echoes through the club. “Someone’s in a bad mood today.”

Slithering into your periphery is the same tall, lean guy that you ran into earlier last week. Today he's sporting a white tank top that revealed a couple small tattoos scattered around his body, black pants that were tight enough to be yours, a loose wallet chain belt, and chunky work docs. His gorgeous blonde hair looks attainably messy by what you suspect is mousse. He smells of beer and cigarettes tonight, his tired eyes a precursor to his lust-filled gaze. A poster boy for all the men you wouldn’t want to bring home to your parents is none other than,

“Henry Creel,” Eddie says. “Mike’s just picking a bone with me. Have you met Hargrove? She’s our newest dancer.”

It’s seemingly Henry’s first day back. From the first day of orientation to now, you’ve only had run-ins with Jim, the older gentleman who is also a bouncer. Jim spent years with the Hawkins PD, but after a scandal that only Eddie and his peers seem to know about, Jim found a home protecting young women at the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club. The only place that gave him a chance.

You like Jim. You like everyone here. You are also ecstatic to see Henry again, this time as a dancer. You can see the excitement blooming in his eyes, with a steady increase in his pupil size by the second.

“Well, well,” Henry smirks. “Look who decided to join us.”

You two shake hands again.

“Henry’s my other bouncer,” Eddie explains, but you already knew that. “He’s my right hand man. He’s tiny but mighty. Could snap bones in an instant.”

You peer over at Henry with shocked eyes, to which Henry acknowledges with a dramatic bow.

“You’ll see it,” Eddie hovers a hand over your back. “I sure hope not anytime soon, but there’s always that one douchebag.”

“And they always underestimate me too,” Henry says. “I get a nice kick out of it. It’s a win-win.”

Henry is certainly not beefy, but judging by his muscle tone and sharp upright demeanor, he can put up a fight. Dude seems like he does a lot of the dirty work for Eddie. He can get away with it too.

After bidding ‘see you later’ to Henry, you continue walking with Eddie.

“So,” he starts. “Did you put together a cute simple outfit for tonight?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Good,” Eddie says. “I can tell it’s gonna look amazing. I dig the red lipstick and the choker.”

Eddie wanted classy so you gave him classy. Underneath the cloak, you are sporting a lacy black set with a matching black choker and classic red lipstick. Your hair is straightened tonight since beach waves are your signature.

“You want a sneak peak?” you smirk.

Eddie quirks up. “Oh man, do I? Let me at it.”

You take off your cloak to reveal what you have underneath.

Eddie stops in his tracks, taking in the sight in front of him. His gaze is both soft, yet lout. Delicate in the brows, yet carnivorous in the eyes. Slowly, his jaw lowers, uttering a silent gasp as he fully processes the sight of the vixen — you — in front of him.

“Jeez…” he strains. “You look…”

You blush. Electricity whirls through you as Eddie continues to relish in your beauty.

“Showstopping,” Eddie finishes.

He reaches his arms out and you take them, letting yourself fall into his chest as he pulls you to him. During the embrace, he sets his lips beside your cheek, brushing against them delicately as he gives you a verbal kiss.

“Mwah!” he exclaims, leaving you longing for a stronger peck. You feel like you’re on a cloud when he spins you to get a full 360 of your look. “I was expecting like a light color, or pastel…but black — black is your color.”

“Yeah?” you reply. “It’s not too edgy? Choker and all?”

“A lil rough around the edges won’t hurt,” the club owner approves. “He’s gonna love it.”

You follow closely behind. “He?”

Your first client. You had a feeling that’s what Eddie had planned for you today, but reality didn’t sit in until right now.

"Ever given a lap dance before?" Eddie inquires.

"Yeah, but not in this setting."

He seems amused with your answer. Eddie smirks as he gives you a nudge. "Perfect."

You two are walking down the corridor now, down to an isolated room at the end masked by a beaded curtain. You’re unsure if the goosebumps that form on your skin is because of the slight chilliness of the club or because you were walking into a seductive hideout with the boss you had the hots for.

You two stop just a yard short of the curtain. Eddie turns to face you.

"I've got a buddy named Steve. Not short for anything, his parents just... loved the 80s." he chuckles. “You’re giving him a private show tonight. One hour.”

Eddie’s buddy. The pressure is on. The name rings a bell, you believe Dustin was talking about him the first day you set foot in Hellfire.

“Oh,” you say. “I think I heard your friend Dustin talking about him last week.”

As if it were some inside joke, Eddie sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie mutters. “Don’t even get me started on those two.”

Eddie motions you forward, extending his arm to signal an “after you” gesture as you proceed into the private show room. The beads of the curtain carelessly clash into one another as Eddie saunters in.

"Anyway, Steve has been going through it lately. His lady left him for another dude, he lost his job because the city wanted another basic coffee shop instead of a place to rent cheesy B movies…and the last time he worked in the food industry he had to wear a sailor’s uniform, so he’s since opted out.”

You wander around what was going to be your office for the next hour as Eddie aimlessly takes his own path and furthers his lay-down.

“His folks want nothing to do with him because he doesn't wanna be nepotized by them. When he’s not working, he’s babysitting — you guessed it — Dustin and the rest of the boys when they’re not here or playing D&D with me. Oh yeah, and on the topic of girlfriend, he hasn't gotten laid in a fat minute.”

Eddie pauses.

"It's kinda depressing,” he says. “Now that I say it all out loud.”

He makes a sharp turn and walks toward the boombox he kept in the corner of the room.

"That is depressing," you mumble nonchalantly, as if you yourself had not been laid in a fat minute… contrary to your obnoxious brother’s popular belief.

“How do you sleep at night knowing you’re a fucking slut?” Billy’s voice haunts you.

You’ve only had one real boyfriend and Billy knew that. And that boyfriend, shortly after he left you for the girl he told you not to worry about, admitted that you were simply a placeholder for him. They’re happily married now and it tortures you knowing that being the first choice was never in the cards. Billy knew that too and used that backstory to fuel your insecurities. Billy knew you hated feeling used, yet brought it up every chance he got. Making his victims feel small, that was the source of his power. You shudder it off.

You watch as Eddie plays around with the boombox, ensuring that the aux chord was working along with all its other components.

"Tell you what," Eddie begins to barter. "You give him a good show, you can keep a hundred percent of your tips tonight. Consider it a sign on bonus."

“Wow, Eddie really?” you exclaim. “That…helps me out a lot. Thanks so much.

“Of course, doll,” Eddie grins. “Happy to help.”

Eddie finishes up tidying the room before walking back over to you.

“I can’t get over how amazing you look,” he adds one last time. “You’re gonna knock his socks off.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” you thank him one last time.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

He lingers for a while longer before going outside to look for Steve. Meanwhile, heart’s-a-fluttering you try to acquaint yourself with the place, choosing a seductive song of your liking before getting prepped.

Wicked Games by The Weeknd.

More ruckus sounds from outside of the show room. You assume your client has arrived.

“That’s the boy,” Eddie confirms. “BRB-right back.”

You excuse your boss as he makes his way over to his friend. While you wait, your mind begins to race. Does your outfit look okay? Does your breath smell? Do you smell? Despite all the wardrobe and wellness checks you’ve done, your mind is insistent that something else was off. To calm your nerves, you decide to take a quick gulp of Bombay Sapphire, a gin Eddie had provided for the room, before Steve walks in.

Liquid courage. May help with the performance too.

“There he is,” Eddie cheers as the two men greet each other outside. “What took you so long?”

“There was uh, traffic,” a softer voice responds.

“I call bull.”

The two talk a bit more, voices too quiet for you to make out what they’re saying. That, or the sound of your heart pounding against your chest drowned out their conversation. Steve sounds friendly. Timid, but friendly nonetheless.

You listen in on Eddie’s spiel about you. He called you stunning, explained that you just moved from California, and that you are exactly Steve’s type. Whatever that could possibly mean. You then hear Eddie go over the rules. No touching you without consent. No verbal or physical harassment. No sexual intercourse. And to tip generously.

“She sounds lovely. Thanks for the run down, Eds.”

“‘Course. She’s all yours, Big Boy.”

The beaded curtains clash once more.

In walks a man around Eddie’s age, late 20s, early 30s with sleek mahogany hair and slight puffy eyes. He’s sporting a gray North Face sleeveless jacket with a plain black shirt underneath and denim blue Levi’s. He’s a lot more preppy than you thought he would be. Steve’s reaction to you was similar to that of Eddie, despite how different they seem from each other.

“Hi,” he greets you.

“Hi,” you smile. “You’re Steve?”

He nods shyly. “You’re who they call Shy Girl?”

“That’s meee.”

It doesn’t take a body language analyst to see that Steve is guarded. It takes another fragile, sullen demeanor to know one.

“Are you one of Eddie’s shy friends?”

The comment earns a laugh from Steve. “You think I’m shy?”

“Just a little.”

He attempts to mask a gulp. “I’ve just never gotten a lap dance before.”

“You think I’m supposed to believe that?”

You stalk towards him and rest a hand on his chest when proximity and Steve himself grants you permission. You sink your palm in deeper when you pick up he’s receptive to it.

Oh yeah, that’s all gin.

“With your handsome self?”

Steve’s blushing now. “Yeah…strip clubs are kinda not my thing. They’re starting to be though, cuz I always come and support Eddie.”

“What a nice boyfriend,” you joke.

“Eddie and I do have a budding bromance,” he admits with a laugh.

“Boy I’d love to be in the middle of that,” you tease him honestly.

Steve is left stunned and speechless while you grab his hand and lead him to the futon in the middle of the room. He attempts to relax, exhaling the tension out of his shoulders and manspreading as he watches you encompass him. You walked in a slow circle around Steve as the music starts and he peers up at you with curious eyes. Alas, you stop in front of him, cupping his face softly in your hands and synchronizing your hip movements to the rhythm of the song.

Relate to your customers. Talk to them. Build a connection with them, you think to yourself.

“So how’s your day been?”

Steve cracks a faint smile. "Good, how's yours?"

"Good," you chime as you slowly lower yourself onto his lap.

Steve sharply inhales, sucking the tension he had just released right back into his body. You shake your head in disapproval and stroke his face calmly.

“No, no,” you coo. “Just sit back, relax. You’re safe with me.”

“I’m safe with you, huh?” he responds in an is-that-so kind of fashion. “You seem like pure danger to me.”

“Oh, please,” you snarkily disregard his comment. “I’m an angel.”

“In a place called Hellfire?” he challenges you. “I find that hard to believe.”

Steve wants to touch you. So bad. But he refrains. You feel it in his levitating palms, resting just inches away from the small of your back. You start to lightly ride his thigh, hoping to catch his palm in passing as you move your hips about. Instead you’re met with something hard at the base of his pants, an outline and protrusion that wasn’t there before.

Steve looks down and acknowledges it with a shrug.

"Sorry," he chuckles. "It has a mind of its own."

You laugh faintly in return. "It's okay. I'd say it's responding appropriately."

"Yeah?"

"Given the circumstances," you say as you grind slower, deeper. "Yeah."

"Well, that's a relief."

Steve is cute. And a polite man who values your consent was sure to receive it. You two lock gazes before one of you dared to speak again. It all feels like a blind date, and you’re two giddy young adults.

"You..." you start. “You can touch me if you’d like.”

"Really?" Steve asks. "Usually dancers don't let you do that."

"It depends who you ask," you smile. "Consent is subjective...and you have mine. C'mon."

He obliges and starts to graze your ass softly with his hands. You run his hands through his hair, then along his neck without lifting them. A muffled moan is slowly released from his mouth.

"Shit," he sputters. "Feels really good."

He tosses his head back.

"You make me feel so good."

"Aww," you grin. "Me?"

"Yeah you," his voice is deeper now. Huskier. "All because of you."

His hand moves upwards towards your bra and he begins to fiddle with the straps, and then the clasps. You continue your steady grinding, rolling your hips to the beat of the music, tossing your head back for the full effect while Steve holds back the urge to cup your perfect breasts in his kneady hands.

A whimper escapes Steve’s mouth when you find the sweet place to roll, resting a palm over his abdomen for leverage.

“Needy, are we?” you tease him. “Needy for me, Stevie?”

“So fucking needy,” he breathes, a nervous gulp swallowing another sneaky groan. “You’re gonna be the death of me, woman.”

I’ve got my heart right here, I’ve got my scars right here.

Suddenly, you cease the grinding, going from cowgirl to reverse. Grabbing a hold of both his knees with the back of both your hands, you sink down to the floor, knees bent, slightly out turned. Your hands move from his knees to encompass his elbows, accommodating the playful headlock he abruptly decided to have you in, watching you squat down beneath him.

“Mmm,” he hums. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby.”

His arms creep from the sides of your face to the front of your face. You crane your head upwards, peering up at him and refrain from shivering when he brings an arm across your neck. His other hand rests on your face, stroking it tenderly.

“Get up here and, ride my thighs again, please.” he pleads. “It was feeling so good.”

“Okay,” you oblige before standing back up.

“Before you do though, let me get a good look at your ass.”

You stand there for him, bending down ever so slightly so he could run his hands across your back. He grabs a fist full of your hair gently with one hand and strokes your ass cheek with the other.

"Wow," Steve hums as he runs his fingers along the birth mark on your lower back. "I like this birthmark."

"Yeah?" you say. "Some people have said it looks like a tramp stamp."

"It's cute," Steve insists, pulling you onto his lap. “It kinda looks like a bat."

He points to where the wings would be and the fangs and you laugh. No one's admired your tramp stamp-esque birthmark the way Steve did.

"Thanks," you reply. "My brother has a matching one."

You pause.

"Sorry, that didn't sound all that sexy."

Steve tosses his head back and chuckles, hand resting firmly on your ass again. "You look sexy talking regardless, so I don’t mind.”

The chemistry between you and Steve feels so natural. You know if your nurturing heart felt like this with all clients you would be in big trouble. This profession isn’t for everyone and you realize that. But you decide to realize everything else later. Meanwhile, your focus right now is pleasing Steve.

You resume the thigh riding per his request, and chase your own subtle high as you did so. Steve whimpers and whines, seeming to long for you even more with every stroke of his hair, every brush against his cheek, every steady and calculated grind against his—

"Woah, are you okay?"

Suddenly you’re cut off by Steve abruptly pushing you off his lap. When you peer over at him, his face has gone completely red.

Did you do something wrong? Did you violate a boundary? Millions of thoughts race through your head. You can’t get fired on the first day of your new job…

"Y-yeah, I'm fine, I just..." Steve stammers, flushing a deeper red hue with every word. “I... uh, kinda came in my pants."

"Oh..." you begin.

"I am so sorry," Steve sighs. "Embarrassed is an understatement. I’m such a loser.”

You two start frantically talking over each other, one extremely apologetic, another sympathetic to the concerns. Again, it’s like you two are clumsy young adults on a blind date set up by your bold friends.

"It's been a while... so..." Steve stammers.

"Steve," you stop him.

"And..." he cuts out.

"It's okay," you reassure him. “It’s okay, Steve. If you need a break, we can stop.”

“Sounds good,” he agrees with a resigned sigh, the red colored flush migrating to his ears. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You go to put your cloak back on again and strut towards the gin. Perhaps offering the man a drink would help loosen up his nerves.

"What should we do with the allotted time left?" Steve wonders eyes following you. He’s rubbing his knees anxiously with his palms. “Eddie has this room booked for an hour. He needs to think you're doing splits on my dick or something or else he won't be satisfied."

Laughter erupts from the deepest parts of your belly at Steve's comment. Steve can't help but laugh as well.

"Hm, we can wait a bit and I can give you another lap dance?” you suggest. “Or a strip tease?"

You weren't used to those words coming out of your mouth, so you attempted to make it sound as normal as possible. Wow, you really just gave a lap dance. And someone came from it.

"Do you think..." Steve inquires. "That we can just... talk?"

----

So you and Steve do exactly that. You talk about your families, and your aspirations, your deepest fears, and your core values. Steve Harrington isn’t the loser he thinks he is. He’s a really cool guy. But deeply misunderstood.

“So you and your brother have similar birthmarks?” Steve questions.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Except his is on his belly. We literally took the term identical twins to a whole new level.”

He laughs.

“Your brother sounds cool.”

“He was.”

Steve gasps in astonishment.

“Oh, my god. I’m sorry. Is he…”

“He’s not dead. Just an asshole.”

The color returns to his face. He exhales steadily and shakes his head. You find his reaction funny, despite how twisted that made you sound.

“Dead to you though?”

“Pretty much,” you giggle. “Dead to me.”

You two do a cheers to that with your alcohol-filled glasses and take another painful sip. It burns.

“Tell me about yourself now,” you prompt him.

There’s a dramatic pause.

“Well,” Steve begins. “I’m an only child. So eyes have been on me for as long as I can remember. What’s Stevie up to? This is what we expect of him and this is what happens if he’s not what we make him out to be. It didn’t take til young adulthood to realize that I have been living in my parents’ shadow. I don’t even know what I like.”

Steve spurs on about how he has struggled with his identity, going back and forth between if what he was pursuing was a desire of his or his parents’.

“And for a while I thought I knew who Steve was. Until I lost myself again in a girl named Nancy.”

“Aw,” you pout.

“A girl,” Steve pauses waiting for you to catch on. “Named Nancy.”

Your eyes widen. “House Mom Nancy?!”

Steve nods as you slowly piece things together.

“So Jonathan’s girlfriend is your…”

“Ex girlfriend,” Steve confirms. “Small world, huh?”

You suppose it wasn’t good that Hawkins is so small. You’d hate for someone to recognize you when you’re taking a casual stroll outside.

Nonetheless, you push that concern to the side and continue your conversation with Steve.

“What happened?”

“Some petty high school shit,” he explains. “But it’s always been her. She made me a better me. The closest to Steve that I’ve ever felt.”

“Wow,” you say. “So you saw a future with her?”

“Marriage, kids, everything,” Steve confirms. “Then she decided I wasn’t what — who — she wanted.”

It’s silent for a while. Steve shakes his head bitterly and downs the rest of his drink. You slosh yours around waiting for him to speak again. Besides, if you did, you’d end up ugly crying about your ex. And no one wants their stripper trauma dumping on them when they’re supposed to be performing.

Thankfully, Steve is the first to speak again.

“Yeah, Nance. She looks… she looks happy,” he turns to you with dismal eyes. “I don’t ever wanna get in the way of that.”

“Do you ever see her here?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, she’s in the back being House Mom, making sure all the girls are taken care of and all that. And I’m sure she doesn’t come up front because she knows Eddie has been trying to play wingman.”

You chuckle. “With a stripper?”

“With anyone,” Steve chuckles. “God that sounds awful. I sound like a loser.”

“Would you stop saying that?” you snap. “You are not a loser, Steve.”

“I know I’m not a loser. Just feel like it sometimes. Especially when it dawns on you that you’ve been living life for other people.”

“I kinda know how you feel.”

You two lock eyes again. Steve rests a hand on top of yours, intertwining your fingers briefly before he begins playing with each of your fingers one by one.

"I guess…going back to the previous topic…” he proceeds. “If I could change anything about myself, I would've done more of what Steve wants to do. Not what Todd and Marsha want Steve to do. Or what Tommy H. and Carol want Steve to do. Because maybe then Nancy and I would’ve been endgame. Or maybe Allison. Possibly Tammy? Who knows? See? Everyone’s world but Steve’s.”

"Steve," you start. "I hope you realize that I have no idea who any of these people are. It’s kinda hard to keep up.”

"And that is such a relief to hear that," he sighs again, this time in exasperation. "I just feel so free talking about them to someone who doesn't know who they are. Hawkins is small, you know. And it’s good that the only bias you can form is in my favor since you only know of me."

You offer him a consoling pat atop the hand, to which he responds by leaning his head on your shoulder. With how tender everything has been with Steve, there’s a temptation to plant a delicate kiss on his forehead. But you stop yourself.

"I'd like to know you, know you, though,” you find yourself saying.

He gazes up at you. You two smile at each other.

“I’d like to know you more too, Shy Girl,” he answers. “If you’d let me.”

“Duh, it’s what I just said.”

He chuckles. “You’re not saying that for the tips?”

“No. Just human to human.”

You stroke his cheek longingly, running your hand along his stubble.

"It's also been a while since I've gotten laid too," you admit. "And I've got a lot of pent up stress I need to release. You seem like a trustworthy person to do that with.”

The energy changes. Steve’s grip on your hand tightens.

"Oh yeah?" He rubs your thumb with his and soon you find yourselves holding hands.

"Yeah.”

“Sounds like we have a deal then, Shy Girl.”

Before Steve gets any ideas, you interrupt him.

“I don't wanna have sex at work," you admit. "Especially not on the clock."

"Oh, yeah I didn’t think it’d be now. Some people do find that hot though.”

"It's my first day. I can’t disappoint Eddie this early in the game.”

"You're kidding."

You shake your head.

"Wow, I would've thought you've been doing this a while."

You blush. "Thank you. But nope, you’re my Guinea pig.”

Steve continues to gawk in amazement. Then he reaches for his wallet, grabbing a huge wad of Benjamin Franklins and handing it to you.

"Tell you what," Steve bargains. "You buy yourself something nice, get your bills paid, and come through in a couple days. The roomie won't be home so we'll have the place to ourselves. We can get takeout or something too. Whatever makes you comfortable, of course.”

You bite your lip. "I'd like that."

“Good. I’d like that too.”

———-

"So, how was it?" you hear Eddie ask Steve.

"Dude...I just about creamed my pants," he says as you hold back laughter. "You got yourself a good one."

"Nothing's ever too TMI for you, Harrington," Eddie says. "But thanks for the imagery."

"Yeah. I gotta get going now. I got laundry to put away at home. It's been piling so much I think it's going to tip over."

“Roger,” Eddie says before bidding him goodbye. “Oh, speaking of which, did you tip her good?”

“You bet I did. Woman like her needs to be spoiled rotten.”

————

You make your way back to the dressing room after saying bye to Steve and finishing the flats Argyle had specially made for you. At your locker, you subtly attempt to count the hundreds Steve gave you for his lap dance and talk session. The man left you 10 of them. A whole band.

You were stunned. What did King Steve do for a living anyways? It didn’t matter to you. You had enough for groceries, gas, and a portion of your rent, all earned in an hour’s work, and all yours to keep as Eddie insisted.

The realization makes your heart skip a beat. You and your sister were good for the next few weeks.

Knock, knock.

“Don’t freak out ladies, it’s just me!” Eddie shouts from the other side of the door. “Put your cloaks on I’m coming in!”

You watch as the girls scurry to get their covers back on. The amount of respect Eddie has for his dancers is insane. Perhaps it’s common decency but it was such a striking difference than what you were used to. It warmed your heart in a way, but also made you sad. You deserved this respect all your life.

When Eddie finds you, he starts towards you, a look of approval spread wide across his face. As deeply as you wanted it to be because he found you attractive, you infer that it’s because you’re bringing in good business — and that you’re good, given a small amount of experience with the pole.

You two are face to face now. Eddie speaks up first.

“Steve, uh,” he says. “Steve really likes you.”

“Oh really?” you smile. “I’m glad.”

“You’re just a natural, Shy Girl,” he compliments you. “Everyone’s just raving about you.”

“Yeah?”

“Based on what I’ve seen so far and what Stevie told me, yeah,” he confirms. “But I guess it’s no surprise. Shy girls are almost always the freakiest, huh?”

You try not to laugh while you’re witnessing the imagination of your boss running in the complete opposite direction of what really happened between you and Steve. Nevertheless, you let him. You didn’t mind taking up space in your dashing boss’s mind.

“You should come to work a little early next time you’re on,” Eddie says. “I’d like to take you to lunch.”

Heat spreads across your cheeks. “Really?”

“‘Course! I do it with all my dancers as a welcome thing. I’d like to know more about you. You’re more than just a pretty face and someone who simply works for me.”

‘I do it with all my dancers.’

Your heart sinks. Back to square one.

Eddie clears his throat.

“Anyway,” he says. “I’m gonna head out now. Gonna go see the lady friend. I’ve got Johnny boy, Argyle, and Henry holding down the fort.”

The tinge in your heart intensifies.

“Oh, sounds fun!”

“Yeah, I rarely see her cuz she bartends. Even though we work similar hours we work opposite days. But she got first cut tonight so I’m heading over.”

“Have fun, Eddie.”

“I sure will,” Eddie says. “Goodnight, Shy Girl.”

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

Eddie soon disappears out of sight and now your shift seems ten times longer. Regardless, you stuff your tips into your tote bag and prepare to meander around the club, enticing other bachelors for a dance.

Without Eddie around, it seems less exciting.

“Doing it for Max,” you remind yourself while fixing your hair in the mirror in front of you.

You reach for your phone to see the amount of time that has transpired since the private show with Steve. But the clock wasn’t your concern when your Home Screen lights up.

Your heart nearly sinks to the floor.

Billy Hargrove

1 Missed Call

Billy Hargrove

iMessage: 1 message

You open it.

What the actual fuck.

#the babyboyification of steve harrington #daddy eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson smut #Steve #steve harrington #Steve harrington smut #Steve and reader #Eddie and trader

450 notes · View notes

dairy-farmer · 23 days

Note

Aaw D:> tumbr ate my first draft of this. But I persist!

Because? Consider! Ra's being a GENUINELY charismatic, manipulative Threat! Oh shit!

He can read you at a glance. Offer you your hearts desires. Money, power, vengeance, purpose. Don't you YEARN? Haven't they WRONGED you? The world is... so very UNFAIR, isn't it?

Don't you want to feel safe again?

Be strong?

Poisoned honey, spoken in a pleasing voice. Any mask for any job. Mentorly, seductive, fatherly, concern, whatever breaks your walls. Makes you TRUST him. He's been doing this for years. Centuries.

Bruce calls it a cult for a reason.

Never let him get into your head. Let him talk. Give no quarter or it's DONE. Bruce drilled it in to all of them. If you give even a sliver of the smallest scrap... he will take you for all you are worth and destroy you. Mould what remains however he pleases. Bruce himself, BARELY had the mental and emotional strength to escape.

And he's the most stubborn bastard alive.

But... but Bruce is GONE. Lost to the time stream. And no one believe Tim. Will listen. Yeah, he's not explaining himself that great. But he's upset, his brain has always moved faster then his mouth, it's... it's kinda a terrible combination. But that doesn't mean he's CRAZY!

Of all the shit they've seen! THIS is where you think things become impossible!? THIS is when you won't even check?! Fine. He'll go on his own.

Except he's not on his own.

Because Ra's either believes him... or has spotted his chance to strike.

Murmurs and drawling and croons in his ears. Like the devil whispering temptation as it leads him farther and farther from home. Tim's TRYING. Remembers what Bruce told him. Give him nothing. But... but every snapped reply, every short answer, is met with such... predatory amusement.

He's making a mistake.

He KNOWS he's making a mistake.

But Bruce is out there. He... he has to get him home. He can do this.

Then Tamara Fox is sent after him by her dad. He gets stabbed and loses an organ, nearly dies in the desert. Now there's a hostage and fucking spider assassins hunting Ra's cult of killers.

Ra's, who no longer seems amused.

He can't-... he HAS to do this. For Bruce. For Tam. For the people they've killed.

He manages. They invade. The stuff of nightmares. Honestly, fffffuck Ra's, he can handle himself. He's getting Tam and Pru out of here and blowing everything to kingdom come. Except... except... shit, the leader. Touch of death. He's so tired. Reflexes not what the should be, torso still too stiff from being TORN OPEN.

Weeks of jet lag, poor sleep, worse diet, and just generally spotty meal times, have taken their toll. His reaction time is off. Not by much. But enough to die by. And... and this is it. He IS going too...

THWUMP!

Staff. With the sort of deadly precision even weapon master's would consider unachievable. The sort that take lifetimes to achieve. So close, if he blinked, his eyelashes would sweep the weapon that just saved his life. The force behind that strike would shatter bone. The follow up, clearly meant to kill.

Ra's Al Ghul.

Tim is already jerking back and toward Tam. No time to observe. But... oh. Oh. He must look so... so CLUNKY with a staff in his hands, in Ra's eyes. The man moves like a rolling storm. All dark untouchable mist and deadly flashing light. Dances have been less elegant.

But that doesn't matter. It CAN'T.

He has to get out of here.

Tim leaves Ra's to either win or die. Flees with Tam and Pru. Pulls up his "fuck you, Ra's" program. And tries to get it going...

Shit.

Only half the bases blew.

A blow, yes. But not the "get fucked, now and forever" like he intended. At least the alarms behind him are sounding. So THIS one is gonna go. Rip in burning peices, ya spider fucks! (No one tell Bruce. It's been a long year okay?)

Except when has life EVER been kind or fair to Tim? Even once? ESPECIALLY this year? Ra's. Barely sweaty from his death match and ready for round two, just kicked open the hanger door behind them. Still in full armor. Still fully armed.

Tim doesn't even bother to calculate in his head.

They're fucked.

He slaps the evidence Bruce NEEDS to be rescued into Tam's arms. Tells her to get it to her father. Begs Pru to get her there. Tells them... to run.

Stands his ground.

He gets his ass beat like a drum. It's not even CLOSE. He's wounded, exhausted, and down to one weapon. Less trained then Ra's. And Ra's? Already warmed up, well rested, armed to the teeth and IN ARMOUR. Also probably pretty mad, what with Tim blowing up his bases.

He... he doesn't expect to wake up.

But he does.

Fancy guest room. The sort of guest not allowed to LEAVE, but still. Rich woods, fine fabrics, tasteful design. Ra's in an ornate, silken, open robe and loose low hanging lounge pants, sprawled out like a tiger as he casually sharpens a sword.

Subtle.

Captured then. He would have expected a dungeon after, you know, the whole "fuck you" base exploding. And Ra's? Doesn't even pause in his weapon maintenance as he calmly, in an almost musing voice, informs him that there's no NEED for THAT.

"Bases can be rebuilt. Rabble recollected."

"But you, Detective?"

What a glorious last stand~. Why, Tamara was it? He's quite sure Tamara is TEARFULLY recounting "your valiant final moments, even as we speak. You've done all the work to kill yourself, FOR me, Detective. I would be a fool not to take advantage of that."

He finally pauses, testing the edge of the blade. Pleased with it's sharpness.

Tim let's himself flop back down on the bed, refusing to wait for eye contact with those gemstone green eyes. So... what now? Torture? Brainwashing? Lectures on how awesome you are and how Tim should totally join you?

Of course not. Why would Ra's do THAT, when he has Tim right where he wants him? Tired, hurting, isolated. Mentally and emotionally exhausted. In other words... broken down. The world has done his job FOR him. Not, of course, that he'd ever SAY that. Why show your hand, after all?

So, no, no~

Now? You rest. Ra's brings you food. And if you want something? You'll have to trade for it.

Theeeere it is! Time called it. And WHAT, you creep, EXACTLY will he be expected to "trade"?

So suspicious! But, of course, he understands. Their's has hardly been a pleasant relationship, so far. Riddled with conflict. He simply wishes for conversation. For Tim to take care of himself. Allow RA'S to take care of him. After all, Ra's knows he would never allow him to help, otherwise.

.....right. "help".

Tim knows that's bullshit. He is trapped and this is a trap. Some form of conditioning. A fostering of dependence, maybe. He refuses to fall for it. Ignores Ra's, turns over, and pretends to go back to bed.

Ra's just hums, amused.

Because... sure enough? For all that Ra's oh so helpfully furnished "his" room with books and art supplies? Non-technological amusements? He can only ignore the only other person in the room for some many days. Can only stew in his "what ifs" and not knows for so long.

Damn it.

So he trades. Cagey and suspicious, looking for traps in every bit of wording and every action. Just as Ra's knew he would. Slowly exhausting himself. Just as Ra's knew he would. Hyper-vigilance taking it's brutal, chipping toll.

Just as Ra's knew it would~.

He asks only you eat this lovely snack you will enjoy. Take a nap, as look so tired. Allow him to massage those worn, long abused muscles. Wash the unmanageable curls of your hair. A conversation, perhaps, on that topic you love so much. You are quite knowledgeable.

And... and damn it. The body? Straight out refuses to stay vigilante forever. Especially when there appears to be no threat. When things are soft and soothing. It starts to slip through his fingers like sand. He keeps catching himself. Forgetting. Catching himself again.

Ra's has such... such a soothing voice, when he wishes too. Like rich cologne on a winter's coat, wrapping you in a masculine warmth against the cold. Strong, deadly hands. Unfairly good as they gently cradle his head, run fancy soaps and scented oils through his hair. Untwist the mess his muscles have become.

Like... like he's on some sort of high end vacation.

Or some pampered pet.

He's actually back to a healthy weight. He doesn't look like a disaster survivor.. and he just... just...

He has to get out of here. Soon. I-It's so comfortable. Soothing. Like sinking into warm honey, it clings. He just... there's this growing part of him that wants... because... because, yeah. Yeah, maybe he IS tired. Maybe it WOULD be nice. To stay. To be taken care off. Pampered.

But he CAN'T.

He has to get out.

So he confronts Ra's. What's it gonna take? Hopefully. This will blow up. A fight maybe. Something to give him some ANGER. Anything but this damn comfort and softness. It's sapping his will to fight. But of course not. Ra's has got him read like a learning letters pamphlet.

Of COURSE Ra's will let him go~!

...if Tim does... one little thing for him...

Those fucking TRADES. And this is it, he can feel it. Trap already sprung and now comes the moment to either gnaw off his own leg or be captured. Ra's looks so unbearably pleased. Victorious in his machinations and now reaping his reward. Tim wants to break his stupid smug face. But that will get him nowhere.

What.

What is the God damned trade.

Oh~ Just a moment of your time. Allow Ra's a taste of the feast you so vigilantly gaurd against him. He spreads his arms, elegant, white teeth flashing like a damn shark. The very picture of a wealthy, powerful, scoundrel. Promises in a low purr to behave.

The part of his brain that lights up when he's about to do something stupid, practically explodes from his head just to beat him to death. Sings the song of ten thousand klaxons. Oh... oh this is so PROFOUNDLY stupid there are are no words. Is possibly THE WORST idea.

He still... agrees.

Watchs Ra's not so much stand, as rise to his feet. Fluid and controlled. Letting his robe slide from his shoulders in an easy roll, to fall into a pool on the ground. The sword is set aside. Ra's focus on him. Undivided. It... it should not be MORE terrifying, unarmed and in just pants, then armed and in full armor. And yet...

Tim's mouth feels bone dry. Mistake. Mistaaaake....

He feels hunted. There aren't even that many steps, to cross the room. Yet he's shifted, distinctly, from a stride to a prowl. Tim feels absolutely no shame in backing up. Trying to gather his thoughts.

Ra's doesn't give him the chance.

Before Tim can even full register more then "too close!", a powerful hand is sliding through his hair to cradle is head, an arm like steel wrapping around his waist. He's pulled into an overwhelming kiss.

He brain stops.

The taste of Chai and a commanding mouth, overwhelm him. Steal his air. Tease and focus his attention. He's manhandled back onto the bed. A hand trails down Tim's body, another reaching up to wrench one of the pillows free of the pile. A possessive mouth slowly meanders down his body.

Kisses, sucked marks, teeth lined tastes of skin.

His hands grip like they want to imprint themselves. Leave permanent marks. Are trying, very, very hard not too. Not yet at least.

Not even divine intervention could save his shorts, Ra's rips them. Guides a pillow under his lower back. Tim has all of a second to be confused before everything Iights up. He chokes on a squeak.

The rumbling laugh Ra's makes does NOT help. Powerful hands holding him in place, keeping him from escaping the... the hot and wet! Tim writhes. It not the first time someone's eaten him out. But... but! It didn't feel like this! Was teammates and just fooling around. Not practiced seduction and centuries of skill.

His legs are already shaking. He's gasping for air. Trying to buck his hips closer to that magnificent feeling, trying to get away from how overwhelming it feels. Clenching his fists in the sheets. Whining like he's wounded.

It's PERFECT. Ra's KNEW he'd be weak to pleasure.

Knew his Detective was worth the wait.

Rolls and teases his tounge down, just a bit. Brings calloused fingers into play. To drive his Detective mad. Tease his sensitive little gem, while he plunders deep and cruelly with his tounge.

It's delightful. Watching him come apart. Again and again. First on his tounge alone, then joined by his fingers. Finding the places he KNOWS his Detective his most sensitive, and rubbing, stroking, teasing without mercy or relent.

Until even that magnificently stubborn boy, is a teary, drooling, red faced mess. Thighs painted with his pleasure. Limbs weak and trembling. So BEAUTIFULLY compliant and needy. Reliant on Ra's for everything. Craving his warmth. His care.

Head empty of those ever rushing thoughts.

He, of course, keeps his word. Let's Tim go. Back to the real world. Too the cruelties man does to man. Too being unappreciated. Tired and overworked. Too an empty, uncomfortable bed. A poor diet. The judgments of so called friends.

Hmmm~ Ra's wonders~ how long will it take?

Before the world does his job for him? Again. Before his Detective is tired. Sore. Lonely. Worn down and in need of care. Of a little... pleasure. A warm body to hold him in the night. Companionship IS vital to a healthy human mind and body, after all. Ra's can be a "friend". A lover. Whatever works, really.

He has time.

And Tim? Tim made the mistake of letting him in.

-🐼🐼🐼

ra's being MASSIVELY charismatic, having an effect that just lulls people into wanting to follow and obey him makes a lot of sense honestly! especially since for the most part the situtation given is that people follow ra's more out of admiration for his power/control of the lazarus pits and that's really it. ra's being incredibly charismatic and inspriring the fanatical loyalty that cults exhibit is soo good!

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

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the-fluff-piece · 1 year

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heyyyy idk if your follower milestone event is still happening but can i get 1😭 Law?

Like Law doesn't think he's worthy enough. ANGST BUT FLUFFY

love your works!!

For you the event will be eternally running!

Sorry I am taking forever to finish these!

For the now closed follower milestone event.

Also check out my other stuff:

My Masterlist - Short and Multichapter stories

Headcanon Masterlist

I also didn't forget about the other request, so I will write that, too.

Broken

Law knows that he is not very sociable, that he's absolutely broken inside and has more emotional luggage than any other.

It never bothered him, though. He was comfortable keeping his distance: to his crew, the straw hats, everyone. Until he met you, and he felt like an empty loser unfit to make you happy Contains: negative self talk by Law, hurt/comfort, angst

Since Law and you became a couple, the devil powered, tattooed bad boy revealed so many facets to his character, you felt like he would forever stay a mystery. He was sometimes moody, sometimes, on rare occasions, he was giddy, he loved to tell you about his obscure interests. And sometimes, he just wanted to stay silent, not talking but insisting on staying near you.

And since you were visiting the strawhat crew on the Thousand Sunny, he was like a brooding child and almost a little bit hurtful in his isolation. He almost seemed mad.

You decided to let him have his alone time and enjoy your stay on the beautiful ship. They sure had a lot of commodities the submarine didn't have: a bar, a big bath, absolutely delicious food! You knew that a tasty treat was awaiting you as the handsome cook of the strawhats danced toward you, set a small masterpiece of a dessert in front of you and kneeled down to kiss your hand. You had to giggle - his small beard tickled your hand and his campy flirtiness did the rest. What a strange guy! He made a bit of smalltalk as you enjoyed the tea and dessert before he moved on to woo the women of his own crew.

You looked around for your boyfriend, who had decided to sit down in a dark corner and be grumpy. This amount of brooding was strange, even for him. You decided to finish your afternoon snack and sit down next to him to see if you could find out what was bothering him.

"Hey" You said softly as you sat down next to him in the lush grass. He didn't answer, instead, he lowered his gaze so that his hat obscured his face.

You got a bit closer and put your head on his shoulder, like you often did - he shrugged you off and moved away.

"Law?" You got a bit irrited at his behavior.

"What's wrong? Did I do something?" You asked, already thinking about possible reasons for his reaction to you.

Law

She looked lovely out there in the sun. The blonde cook courted her like the goddess she was - while Law could only sit in the shadows, watching like the creep he was. He looked down on his hands and read the letters on his fingers. Death. The only companion he ever really had. He looked at his inked hand and for the first time in his life, he regretted it.

The cook didn't have tattoos. His skin was light and smooth, his hair shone golden in the sun. He made her giggle and twirl her hair around her finger. She looked so cute, so full of light and life. Unlike him.

Death. That was all he could tell about and bring to others. No joy, no life. Sometimes he battled death, when he saved a patient. But he was still using his power primarily to hurt. He felt like a monster next to her kindness and softness.

He thought about everyone he lost - everyone he failed to save. His family. His town. Cora-san. He was afraid he would loser her, too. Would it hurt more if she left him for the blonde one? Or if one of his enemies sliced her open before his eyes? He made a lot of enemies.

Lost in thought, he didn't even register her approach until her beautiful voice graced his ears. Not now, he couldn't be who she deserved right now, could only be the surgeon of death, incapable of flirting or kindness. She got nearer, her scent and warmth, usually a ripping him out of his brooding, painfully reminded him of what he would lose if she realised who he really was - what he had done. How broken he was.

Her small head lay on his shoulder, he didn't deserve that, he moved away. He had to protect her from himself and the pain he reliably brought to those around him.

"Law?" She asked, irritated. "What's wrong? Did I do something?"

You're too perfect. You're too nice. Too everything. That is wrong.

"Just leave me" He told her, already feeling the deserved ache of loneliness in his heart. Now he did it, he basically told her to go. Unable to bear her presence any longer, he got up and left, sitting down just a few metres away from her on the bottom of the mast, looking away.

"Fine!" He heard her say and she stomped back into the sun, to the others.

You

Stupid Law. Whatever he was bitching about, you didn't need to punch it out of him. He should talk to you like an adult or leave it. Sanji already threatened to beat him up for making you sad, but you declined.

For the rest of the afternoon, you felt his presence like a sting in your neck. He didn't move, didn't talk. What a diva. But it wasn't your job to get him out of there if he didn't want to. Instead, you savored the time with the crazy members of the straw hats and ended up having a small feast on deck as sanji brought out a grill, Zoro got kegs of sake from storage and Brook began to fiddle a happy song. It seemed like they were always one step away from a small party.

Law stayed where he was. Until Luffy didn't allow that anymore.

"Tra-guy, you have to wear a party hat, too!" He screamed as he stretched his arm to fetch law - he got to grip him on his belt and almost pulled Law's pants down, it was absolutely hilarious. You had to laugh and were just glad that Law had changed his expression from brooding to annoyed - at least some kind of reaction.

"Leave me be!" He growled at the other captain.

"Yeah that's stupid" Zoro chimed in, holding a mug full of sake. "You should drink with me" He added and already held out the mug.

"Not in the mood!" Law snapped at the swordsman.

"Eat some cotton candy and you will feel better!" Chopper tried.

"I hate sweets!" Law bellowed, trying to walk away, but he was surrounded.

"Let's all sing together" Brook tried to soothe the irritated Law, resulting in the direct opposite, he looked like he would explode soon.

"No! I am leaving!" Law desperately said, looking for an opening.

"You've been a drag all day, you should be with your girl!" Nami berated him, quickly followed by Sanji who added: "You're not worthy to be with such a beautiful girl" which stopped him dead in his tracks.

"ROOM" Law screamed and summoned a blue orb from his hand, only to vanish to god knows where. You couldn't see his face clearly- but a tear fell down where he had stood a second before. You've never seen him cry, he was always in control. Always.

"The room was not so big, I bet he's somewhere downstairs" Robin calmly informed you and already pointed to the door on deck that lead down. "We'll wait here" She said as you already ran to the door to search for him.

You were listening closely as you moved down the hallway under deck. You could hear the continued party upstairs, muffled through the planks, until you heard sobbing. This was bad, you didn't know how to handle this. Cautiously, you opened the door to the room where you heard it. Between crates and barrels, Law cowered, small and miserable. He looked up with red eyes as he heard you.

"Go. Away." He told you, his breaking voice betraying his harsh tone.

"I don't think you should be alone now, Law." You put your finger over his trembling lip as he started to protest and he shut up, looking down.

"I know you're not used to this, but I am here now. Talk to me. What's bothering you?" you asked him as you sat down next to him, prompting a louder sob from him.

"The cook is right. I don't deserve you" He whispered.

"Sanji is just talking trash, what does he know about us?" You asked Law.

"He's seeing that we don't fit together" Law said in a weak voice. "I am just holding you back, I bring nothing but pain" he looked at his hands again. Those long, nimble fingers could do so much, you thought. They saved lives, they protected his friends and they lovingly touched you. You wished that he would see that, too.

"You may not see it, but you make me so happy, Law. I am so glad we met. You're so handsome, intelligent and funny" you told him as he avoided your gaze.

"And you're a little weirdo, and I love that, too" you planted a little kiss on his forehead, pushing his hat down in the process. It fell to the floor, unnoticed by Law.

"I can't cook, I am not a gentleman, I don't...party. I am just a...a monster" He concluded, sounding defeated.

"Who told you that?" You asked him.

"Isn't it obvious?" He asked, going through his hair nervously.

"You're not a monster! You're my wonderful Law. You saved a whole kingdom, your crew loves you, the strawhats love you. I love you" you told him, taking his hands into yours, "I know it's hard to grasp when you're not used to it, but you have friends, you have me" you desperately scrambled for words to express your feelings to him without sounding too melodramatic.

"Tss" he said and tried to pull his hands away, but you held on.

"It can be hard to accept that things have changed. You are not DeFlamingo's puppet anymore, you are Law, captain of your own ship" you realised that you didn't really get throught to him as his tears flowed freely now. You didn't want to let it come to this, but you were sure there was no other way to pull him out of this. It was a gamble, though.

"Just think, did Cora-san save you just you could sit around here and be miserable? While you have accomplished so much?" you told him and held your breath. Cora-san was sacred to Law, you knew that. You didn't want to bring him up, but you were pretty sure that he would really want Law to be as happy as possible.

Law's eyes widened and he began breathing faster. His eyes darted around as he seemed to think furiously.

Law

Cora-san! Law was furious that she would bring him up now - but he also couldn't help but replay his memories of their short time together in his head. And he couldn't say she was wrong. He dragged Law across the north blue to live, he desperately wanted that small, sick boy to live his life and not throw it away.

It hurt to admit it - but she was right. He couldn't see Cora-san's actions as grooming him for revenge. He wanted Law to be happy, to value the second life he was given. And the sacrifice it took to have it.

"Law?" her voice ripped him out of his memories once again. He was feeling dizzy, his brain foggy.

"I am sorry" he mumbled.

"Don't be. I can only imagine what you have been through, but I will be here for you for as long as you let me." She said.

She was so precious. He took her chin in his hand like he always did and gave her a soft kiss. She smiled. He felt his own mouth curl. Law promised himself that he would work to make Cora-san proud of him.

"Let's get back up" Law said. "But I won't wear a party hat." He stated.

Law was still grumpy, but he sat among the straw hats and took part. He looked at y/n as she enjoyed herself and kept an eye on him. He had an emotional bodyguard now. It was hard for him, in his current state, to be with people. But he had to start somewhere.

A plate with various barbecued foods was put in front of him, he looked up at the grumpy face of ship's cook that was exclusively reserved for men. What he said earlier still stung, because he was right.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you that you were not worthy of her." Sanji apologised grumpily, looking everywhere but at Law. "But I still think you should value her! And I will kick you if you make her cry on my watch! She is so cute and nice and her nose is so adorable-" Sanji got into one of his rants. Law didn't have time or nerves for that.

"I agree" Law interrupted the cooks blabbering.

"What?" Sanji asked, confused.

"I agree. She is the best thing to ever happen to me. If I treat her bad again, kick me." Law stated.

"I ABSOLUTELY FUCKING WILL" Sanji promised with a salute, standing at attention like a soldier.

Law immediately regretted that request, but he was pretty sure he would deserve every shoe that landed in his face if he began lashing out at her again.

So yeah, Law is seeing that he cannot keep pushing people away and he asked Sanji to check on that, because the cook has a magical "woman in distress" radar that will find any misstep by Law and will hold him accountable. I did that and I think it's cute!

I hope you liked it

#one piece fanfiction #one piece x you #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x y/n #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #law x y/n #trafalgar law #hurt/comfort #trafalgar law x reader #x you #vinsmoke sanji #trafalgar law fanfiction #comfort #loving #trafalgar law fluff #law fluff #trafalgar law angst #angst

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