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safination · 7 months

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Partners in Death... and Life

Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From the Radio Should be Trusted

| Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Part 4: The Radio Star’s Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes||Masterlist| ao3| Tag-list| Parings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationship, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm still trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) Reader is in hell for a reason. Please take note of the following warnings: Body horror. Graphic descriptions of injuries, glass piercing skin, cutting of skin, cutting of chest. Dissection of Human muscles. Misogyny Just…be careful out there

Series Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping... *checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason.

Hello. I usually aim to post on Wednesdays, and I knoooow it's not a Wednesday. But, in my defense, this chapter is longer than chapters 1 and 2 combined. Also, I tried to keep the body horror to a medium level. I tried to find a perfect balance of horrifying but also still readable. Would you guys want more body horror, or less, or is this a good amount? Updated: 5/01/2024 *just realized that I forgot to add the part I was supposed to add*

The heart monitor beeps with a steady rhythm. The model’s ECG reading dip, but that’s normal for her species. You study the model asleep on your table, and take your place.

Turning to your interns, you adjust the fit of your gloves as say, “Are you ready?

From the other side of the table, Lys nods her head with such vigor that you’re afraid it would fall off. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be!”

Heme takes their place next to you, wheeling the cart within your reach. “Aren’t there supposed to be more people here?” they ask, adjusting the fit of their mask with their shoulder. “We don’t even have an anesthesiologist present, and the technician dumped the tools and left without a word!”

Sighing, you take another look at the screen, and monitor the patient’s ECG readings. Just a couple of decades ago, you wouldn’t even be allowed to take five steps into a surgical suite, but in your death, you stare at the state-of-the-art Vox technology heart monitor.

“This was dumped at the last minute. And the Vees paid a hefty amount for the best,” you say, smiling to yourself. “I guess it doesn’t help that most of the staff have clocked-off for the night already.”

“It really doesn’t,” Heme says. You think they frown, you’re not actually sure. It’s hard to tell with masks on, but Heme sounds like they’re frowning.

“On the bright side, this is a special case, and special cases require special means,” you say. “Stick around, and I’ll make sure to show you something amazing.”

Lys squeals, jumping a bit, “I can’t wait to see your work.”

You turn to Heme. “Tell how you were guided into stopping the bleeding by Doctor Neisseria.”

Heme straightens, round their shoulders. “Hemostatic dressing for the capillaries,” they recite. “Then Lys clipped the bigger vessels, and Doctor Neisseria used an electrocautery for any that we missed.”

“Good,” you say. “Lys, is this your first time using a clip?”

“…Yes,” Lys tells you. Even with a mask on, you could tell she was sulking.

You eye the cart between you and Heme, double checking that the technician brought everything you requested for. “It shows,” you say. “Practice every chance you get. Make a deal with some poor and down on their luck Sinner who wouldn’t mind making a deal for permission to poke around whenever you want. They’ll heal on their own if it’s not too severe…or don’t—I mean, that’s how I did mine.”

Lys blinks at you. “I’ll…keep that in mind.”

Your shoulder slumps. “…Shall we just begin?”

Heme hands you a needle driver, the needle already clipped to it. A bunch of suture forms around your palm. It’s study, and made of pure Sinner Magical Energy, or just magic or whatever. It comes out of your and you have full control, that’s all you need to know.

Heme and Lys lean closer to observe the threads you make.

I don’t get to do this often.” You turn your head, motioning to the detached arm placed on the side. The skin has been stretched and the jagged and stringy muscle fibers sticking out tell you it’s been ripped off rather than slice. The radius protrudes out into the air, jagged and sharp. It would have hurt this model quite a lot. “Steady her arm please.”

Lys snatches the arm, holding it with confidence as she steadies it. “This is so cool.”

Heme hums. “Cool in a gross way.”

“Whether your patient is awake or not, a steady hand is key,” you say. “When you pierce your needle, be sure to do it right at the epidermis when dealing with the skin. Too deep and you’ll puncture the arteries or nerves.”

Lys brings the arm closer, and you do the first suture that will connect the limb of Velvette’s model. Valen-something apparently tore her up, but it wasn’t enough to kill her. So, they rushed her into the Emergency Room three days before this poor girl’s debut, and dropped her into your care with her arm and leg in an ice box.

You sew the model’s arm. The threads around your fingers are light, but sturdy. You entwine some around your fingers like some puppet master for better grip. Blood vessels, bones, nerves, and muscles. Not a single cell escapes your control.

You quiz your interns from time to time or tell them to take a closer look at where the vessels stick out the muscles, making sure they’re able to observe how a proper reattachment is conducted.

You study the threads connecting the arm to its body There are thousands of loose sutures. One single pull, and it will be completely reattached.

You shift your shoulders and crack your neck, giving it a slight stretch. “How long has it been?”

Lys glances at the clock behind you. “Five hours. I think it’s almost sunrise.”

“Be ready to be here for a while,” you say, rolling your shoulders. “The leg will be more complicated.”

Heme groans and their shoulder slump. “I guess I should just be thankful the model is mostly humanistic.”

You pull on the singular thread, and the stitches shorten until the arm is fully connected to its base. A thing line is the only indication that any limbs have been detached.

The door swings open and you snap your head at the sound.

“Hey doc!” The little Egg Boi saunters into the room, an envelope in his tiny hands. “I got something for you.”

Your feathers crack and sharpen. “If you wish to keep your shell,” you hiss at him, “you will leave this room before you contaminate it further.”

Egg Boi #04 wobbles a bit. “I was told to give you a message.”

A headache forms on your temples. You want to massage it, but that would contaminate your gloves. “Lys, show the egg to the observation room. Show him the microphone.”

Lys pouts a bit but exits the surgical suite.

Heme grabs the leg, and you begin again. You pause to take a deep breath. The threads don’t just appear out of thin air—they’re created because you will them to take shape. It gives as much as it needs to take from you.

Egg Boi# 04’s voice echoes on the speaker. “I have a note for you.”

��Read it then leave.” You pierce the tibia bone with your needle (special hell needle, you guess. Normal needles definitely cannot pierce bones) and connect it to the model’s leg.

Your concentration does not waver, even as Lys enters back into the room.

“My dearest good doctor,” Egg Boi #04 reads. “What a helltastic day for –"

“Stop!” you exclaim, and the threads you’re producing fizzle a bit, “Is that from Alastor?”

“Uhhh…yes?”

“Give me 10 minutes.” You sew the model’s leg just like before, starting from bones, then vessels, the muscles, and finally skin, but this time at a much faster pace.

Thousands of strings connect the detached leg to its place.

Heme gawks at you. “I thought the leg was more complicated?”

“It is.”

“It took you five minutes to sew everything,” they say. “Why did it take the arm until sunrise?”

“You wouldn’t have been able to learn anything if I went too fast.” You hand the needle driver to Heme, who takes it with eager hands “I trust you will be able to close for me?”

“Yes!”

“Go around the skin—remember not too deep,” you say. “Once it’s all connected, just one strong pull and the threads should work their magic. Lys, once she closes, you can practice your knots.”

The door closes with a swing. You discard your gloves then peel off your protective layers, but you keep the scrub cap on your head.

The Egg Boi waddles into the room, threatening to tip any moment. He holds up Alastor’s note and you’re forced to bend when you reach for it.

You open the envelope and sigh. “This is a letter, and definitely not a note,” you say counting all the pages jammed into the envelope. “Notes are small pieces of paper, and not fifteen pages of paper scribbled back-to-back.”

You take one deep breath, flaring your nostrils as you contemplate your marriage choices, and begin reading.

Heme enters the holding room as you’re reading through the last page.

They take a look at the pages you’ve read. “Ohhhhh a letter?” they say, discarding their mask into the trash. Their gloves are next. “Who is it from?”

“My husband.”

“Why a letter?” Heme asks you “Why not just shoot you a text or a phone call?”

“He mumbles to himself when he writes, and he just loves hearing his own voice.” You turn to the Egg Boi once you’ve read the last word. “Tell Alastor I’m busy—I can’t leave work to go to the hotel on such short notice!”

“Right….” Heme leans against the sink. “Management will be dropping by this afternoon.”

Your eyes squint. “This afternoon? I was told there'd be visiting tomorrow!”

“Yes, they informed you last night,” Heme says. “It’s tomorrow now—morning, actually.”

Your eyes twitch as your turn to Egg Boi #4. “Tell him I will be early. Now go, run along now, least you get scrambled.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Bustling sounds from the other side of the circus themed doors. You knock then take a step backwards, least Vaggie greets you with a fist to the face.

A crash sounds from the inside. The door slams open, and Charlie pops out, hair disheveled and sticking out in odd places. You see the relief oozing into her. Charlie’s smile relaxes and her eyes stop bulging at the sight of you.

She says your name with enthusiasm. “It’s just you! I am so glad to see you.”

You wave at her. “Hello, Charlie. It’s good to see you as well.”

“Would you like to come inside?” she says at the same time another crash sounds. Charlie’s smile turns sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind the mess.”

“It’s quite alright,” you say with a polite smile. “Who am I to judge another person’s mess? It can be quite entertaining sometimes.”

Charlies smoothens the stray hairs sticking out. It does little to actually fix it. “Sooooo what brings you by? Not that you’re not welcome here! Everyone is welcome here! We don’t discriminate at –”

The door swings wider and Alastor pops out with that permanent smile of his. “I called her here.”

Alastor helps you out of your coat as you enter through the doors, and drapes it over his arm. “I came early. I hope you don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the crudely attached banners. Strobe lights are being taped to the railings. Its brightness makes you blink. “Are you throwing a party? Is that why you called me here?”

Alastor hangs your coat on the rack. “We’re preparing for a sudden guest,” he says. “It seems we’ll have to delay our plans, only if you’re happy with waiting for me.”

Charlie shrinks and her eyes water a bit. “Alastor…,” she says with a frown. “If you have plans, that’s alright—go. We can manage without you here!”

“Not at all, this is where he needs to be right now,” you tell Charlie, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her smile brightens immediately. “Who will be the special guest today?”

Charlie fiddles with her fingers. “We…invite my…dad.”

Alastor twirls his microphone. “The King of Hell himself.”

“Oh,” you start, “the demon is coming here?”

“That’s actually Satan,” Charlie says with a smile. “Dad often gents confused with Satan but they’re not the same

“Oh…So, Lucifer is coming here.”

“Pretty much.”

You laugh a bit—you’re not even sure why. Maybe you shouldn’t have laughed. It sounded so awkward, even to you. “Well, how can I help? If it’s alright with you, of course.”

Charlie’s eyes brighten, and she shakes your shoulders. “Are you sure?”

Alastor grabs Charlie’s fingers with the tip of his own and pry them off you. “I’ve already come all this way,” you say, and turn to your husband. “I’m sure we can make the most out of this situation.”

Charlie leaves to change her clothes, and hopefully brush her hair while she’s at it.

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his, even when you know it’s unnecessary to escort you to a living area that’s five-feet away.

He leaves you, walking to the kitchen with a wave of his microphone.

The hotel looks the same, just more diverse colors hanging around. Niffty stalks past you without a word, engrossed in her task of sweeping the floor. Angel Dust or Vaggie don’t seem to be around, nor is Husk at his usual post. Only a one-eyed cat keeps you company.

On the table, deflated balloons are left forgotten with two pumps resting next to it. You take your seat, and complete the unfinished task.

You’re on the third balloon when Alastor presents a mug to you.

He leans over the chair, reaching his arms to place that ‘Oh Deer’ mug on the table. It’s difficult to meet his eyes when he leans so far in front that his whole face is upside down.

His hair hangs in the air, and your husband looks goofy in such an awkward position that you can’t help but laugh. “You look awful this hellish morning!” he says, and his grin widens until his teeth show. “I thought you could use a bit of brightening up. You’re practically dozing off in the chair.”

“Thank you,” you say, a small smile on your face. “The coffee smells good.”

Alastor swings back, and lands next to you. “I know we agreed to leave such tasks to you,” he says and he waves his arms as he talks. “But you look ready to drop dead any second. Poor Niffty had swept about a hundred feathers on your short walk from the door to this chair—Long day?”

“Longer day, actually. Yesterday’s long day turned into a late night that bleeds into today’s early morning.” You take a sip, and revel in its taste. Even after all these years…his coffee still tastes like acidic bean water. (If you smile, then that’s your business.) “The coffee tastes good.”

Alastor crosses his leg, cracking a laugh hard enough for his eyes to bulge. “You didn’t even try to check if it’s been tampered,” he says with that same wild smile. “Are you that tired, my love?”

You smile at him, lips curving bright and wide. “My deerest, did you place something into my coffee?”

“Not at all.”

“That’s disappointing,” you say, taking another sip. “That suit of yours could use some brightening up! A splash of this bean water would add such an interesting texture to it.”

“We’ll it good to see you’re not tired enough to lose your way with words,” Alastor says, smiling at you. “But if you’ve had a ‘longer’ day, you could have sent the Egg Boy—"

“It’s Egg Boi, my deerest.”

Alastor squints, his brow furrowing as he does. “That’s what I said.”

“You said Egg Boy, deerest,” you tell him, taking a longer sip than usual to drown your laughter. “Those eggs are called Egg Bois. They have different numbers—except Frank.”

On the corner of his cheek—just where it’s always been—Alastor’s smile strains. “You said the same thing as I did.”

“Egg Bois.”

“Egg Boys.”

“Egg Bois.”

“Egg Boys.”

You chuckle a bit, and take another long slip. “If you say so.”

Alastor rolls his eyes and he makes it a point to show you he’s doing so. “You could have mentioned to that egg creature that you’d had a long day.”

“Management was dropping by my floor today.” You grab another balloon to pump it.

Alastor’s head tilts, and you hear the small crack of his neck. Static fills the air. “Well, I’m always glad to be used in such a way.”

You roll your eyes, making it a point to show Alastor that you’re doing so. The sharpened feathers and the glow of your eyes were just for the fun of it. “There is another reason why I dropped by the hotel.”

“Do tell!”

You knot the end of the balloon and throw it to the side. “Who am I to refuse the summon of the Radio Demon?”

“His wife.”

You snort, and toss a balloon at him. One balloon becomes two and now you’re just tossing whatever balloon you could get your hands on.

Alastor pops a balloon and static emits from his microphone.

You cross your arms, staring down at him. “I was going to use that.”

Alastor grabs the second pump.

An hour passes too soon. They always seem to do around your husband. The balloons are stringed and weighted. Razzle and Dazzle—the two lambs Charlie made a point to introduce you too—put up a…er… interesting banner on the railings.

Sir Pentious slithers out the kitchen, a tray of cookies in his hold. The Hazbin Hotel looks lively. The space looks decent—live in — as if Sinners actually gathered and used the space. (Those are your favorite kind.)

Sir Pentious offers a cookie to you, and you munch on it. You give him a compliment for its taste.

By the entrance, with Vaggie to her side and Alastor at the other, Charlie takes a deep breath, her nostrils flaring as she does.

Vaggie gives her a smile, and Charlie opens the door.

The bringer of sin rushes to his daughter, drowning her in a hug.“Chaaaaarlie!”

Charlie squirms in his hold. “Heeeyy, Dad!”

Egg Boi #13 and Egg Boi #08 twist their poppers and confetti pops into the air. Niffty grabs her broom, sweeping the floor.

You watch Lucifer, and try to hide your smile. The King of Hell looks different from any paintings or drawings humans make. They can’t seem to capture how shy he looks. How awkward. No painting has been able to capture his search for a place to belong.

This Fallen Angel has blond hair. He’s not the brunette you thought he’d be, which was a shame for you rather liked brunets. It makes sense he’d be blond. Afterall, Charlie has blonde hair as well, and she is the spitting image of her father.

If someone told you it was Lucifer who birthed her, you wouldn’t be able to deny it.

“It’s finally nice to put a name to the face.” Alastor shakes Lucifer’s hand with his microphone, wiping his own right after. “You are much shorter in real life.”

You turn aways, coughing to hide your laughter as Alastor banters with Lucifer.

Husk rolls his eyes at you and grumbles. “Of course, you’d find that hilarious,” he says. “Everyone knows it's smart to insult Lucifer.”

You place a hand on your cheek. “Guilty as charged.”

Charlie brings Lucifer to meet your group. He calls Vaggie, Maggie. Smiles awkwardly when Angel Dust calls him a ‘short king’. Lucifer waves back when Husk waves at him, and shrinks when Niffty jumps and pulls him by the collar. One by one, you’re introduced.

You extend your arm for a handshake.

Lucifer smiles awkwardly, shrinking a bit, but reaches out to shake your ha—

The chandelier crashes to the floor.

And oh God…

Lucifer begins to sing.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Your hair sticks to your face.

Water droplets splash on your clothes. You accept your fate, and trudge through the rain, even as your fingers freeze. The breeze blows your hair, making you nuzzle into your damp coat. You should have brought an umbrella, or taken a cab. Just your luck, a sunny day turns into a drizzle that turns your shoes into a lake. You hate damp socks.

An umbrella blocks the rain from your soaked clothes.

You spring out of its coverage, spinning to look behind. Your arms jerk out, causing you to wobble because of the wet pavement. (That’s totally not embarrassing.)

“The point of an umbrella is to stay underneath it when it’s raining.” Alastor smiles, giving you a small wave.

You wave back.

“Oh…hello,” you say, adjusting the straps of your bag. Alastor takes a step forward, and you jump backwards. “I’m alright—I can manage by myself.”

“Why don’t you tell me all about your very capable self from underneath the umbrella,” he says, twirling the umbrella. “Come on, now.”

You dip your head inside. Alastor inches closer, but there’s still a respectable gap between your shoulders. “I’m really alright,” you say. “I quite love the rain.”

“Yes, the rain is a beautiful thing to frolic underneath when you’re in a meadow,” Alastor says. You can’t help but feel that Alastor is scolding you, “not when it splashes off buildings and drips off power lines and other items that have not been cleaned. We are in the city, my dear.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“My mother would roll in her grave and haunt me when she finds out I left a lady in the rain.”

“But—”

“Constant refusal is quite rude, you know,” he tells you. “And I still owe you one favor.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Alastor says with a smile that makes you smile back. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, I’m happy to leave my umbrella in your umbrella-less but capable hands, and be on my way.”

You shake your head, inching closer. “We can share if you don’t mind walking.”

“I love walks. It keeps me stimulated.”

Alastor follows your every step, covering you with an umbrella that was meant for one. You glance at his shoulder, and turn away to hide your frown. Half of his shoulder sticks out into the rain, gathering droplets, while not a single speck of water slides on you.

Alastor is giving you the bigger half of the umbrella.

“Would you mind holding this?” he asks.

“Not at all,” you say, and take a hold of his umbrella. Alastor is taller, and you have to quirk your arms higher to avoid hitting his head.

Alastor slips out of his coat. You watch him slide it off his shoulders and pull his arm out the slits. He’s wearing a vest—a fine vest as well. Alastor flicks out stray waterdrops. He leans close enough for you to smell his cologne. He drapes his coat over your shoulders, grabbing the lapels to adjust its fit. His body heat lingers. It’s warm…he’s warm.

Alastor pries the umbrella from your grip with a wide smile. “Before you say anything, the only response that I will be accepting is, ‘thank you’.”

“Thank you, Alastor.”

“You’re welcome.” He adjusts the angle of the umbrella, careful to keep every drop of rain from touching you, even at the cost of his own clothes. “Whatever made you decide to walk? There are cabs and busses for a reason.”

“It wasn’t that bad when I started,” you say. “Plus, I was eager to get home.”

He keeps his eyes ahead. “It’s still quite dangerous.”

You step over a puddle, narrowly missing it. “Dangerous?”

“Yes!”

“The sun is—well, was still up when I began walking.”

Alastor hums, shaking his head. “Murders and thieves do not magically dissolve in the sun.”

You smile to yourself. “I’m sure you’re quite knowledgeable on that subject.”

Alastor turns to you, and his hair shifts as he tilts his head. “Pardon?”

“I heard your voice on the radio this morning,” you tell him, adjusting his coat around your shoulders. “I caught the news segment.”

“Well,” he starts, his smile widening. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “you must have been busy when I mentioned the forecast then.”

You inch closer as much as he’ll allow you, trying to keep a respectable distance, but still close enough that Alastor doesn’t need to sacrifice his clothes to keep yours dry. “Speaking of radio, what brings you to this area?” you say. “Isn’t the radio station all the way across town?”

Alastor laughs in a way that makes you wish you’ve kept your mouth shut. “Have you been tracking my movements?”

“Not at all,” you say and try to mimic his laugh. It comes out strained instead. “I just know how to read a map.”

Alastor steps over a puddle. He places a hand on your back, guiding you away from it. “I just had some business in the area,” he says and drops his hand. “I turned the corner and I found you walking all alone in the rain!”

You smile, careful to keep your eyes forward. “I’m thankful to whatever beings that fated our paths to cross.”

Alastor leans closer, eyeing your hands. “Been gardening recently?”

You glance at your nails, at where stubborn soil sticks underneath the cuticle. “No…not at all,” you say slowly. “I guess you could say…light treasure hunting…?”

“The more I get to know you, the more I find myself dumbfounded at your wide range of hobbies.”

“I hate seeing things go to waste.” You try to ignore the squish of your socks. You are definitely never forgetting your umbrella again. “For example, your garbage is my treasure.”

“What a wonderful philosophy to live by.” Alastor meets your eyes and smiles.

You smile back. “Indeed, isn’t it?”

Alastor’s hold on the umbrella stays firm, even as he follows you around the corner and across the street. Not a single drop of water lands on you. “What treasure were you able to find?”

“You have a lot of questions for me today,” you say and ignore the thumping of your heart. “I feel as if you know me more than I know you—I think that’s rather unfair.”

“Well, what would you like to know?”

You move your foot to avoid puddles of trash. The city could really use a good cleaning. “You know so much about my hobbies. So, I’d like to know some of yours.”

“There isn’t really much to tell,” he says. “The radio is my life.”

A strong breeze has you sinking deeper into Alastor’s coat. “You have your hunts.”

You glance at Alastor, and oh…his hair is as brown as his eyes. Wisps of hair stick to his face because of the rain.

Alastor’s brows furrow a bit, but you swear his smile turns sweet. “Those are more of… a necessity than a hobby.”

“In what way?”

“The woods around my area have a lot of… let’s say… mammals that don’t necessarily belong there, it is as if someone just leaves them from time to time. I hunt a few here and there to thin the population a bit.”

You smile to yourself. “Well, tell me about the radio—What is that like?”

He places his free hand on his chest. “Why, it is the proper medium of expressing oneself, of course.”

“It must be nice having such a creative outlet,” you say. “Sometimes, I wonder how you’re able to come up with the most exciting segments.”

“Sadly, you would think after all these years of bringing success and money into the company, I would be allowed to have more control over my content.”

You step over another puddle. A small tug on Alastor’s arm, and he steps over it as well. “That is quite sad to hear.”

“For example,” he starts, adjusting his hold on the umbrella. “I wanted to have this whole portion just on crimes that have been committed.”

“Like… the news?”

“No, not at all,” he says. “I was thinking more on the lines of old cases like robberies and murders—some solved, some not. Unfortunately, the director said it would be too gruesome.”

“It really depends on how you choose to present it,” you say. “I think audiences would love a good mystery with a satisfying conclusion.”

“That is exactly what I thought so as well!” Alastor’s smile widens. “I came across this story…Oh, well I wouldn’t want to bother you with the details.”

“I’d love to hear this,” you say, chuckling. “Show me how you would present it.”

“One winter night,” he starts off with that never ending smile on his lips, “a child—no ordinary child—disappears in the middle of the night. There were no signs of a break in and nothing other than the child was taken from the home. Not a single dust was out of place.”

“Wait, what was so special about the child?”

“I will tell you,” he says. “That child was the two-year old son of aviator Charles Lindenberg! Some newspapers called the child the ‘Eaglet’ because his father had become the first man to fly across the Atlantic Oce—Oh, why are we stopping?”

He angles the umbrella, careful to keep you dry. You smile at him and point at the small apartment complex behind you. “This is where I live.”

Alastor doesn’t frown, but his smile droops a bit. “Oh…” he says. “I was getting to the most interesting portion of the story—what a shame.”

“A shame, indeed,” you echo. “You have such a captivating way of conveying your words.”

“Thank you.”

The rain splatters on the umbrella. It’s not going to stop anytime soon. Your socks are damp and it’s starting to get colder. “Would you like to finish what you were saying?”

Alastor’s smile widens, just a bit, but it was enough for you to notice. “On the month of May, after continuous searching, a tiny little corpse was found abandoned on the side of the road. Forensics determined that the baby was bludgeoned to death.”

“It’s quite funny,” you tell him. “You talk of such gruesome murders but I find myself captivated.”

“Indeed.”

“Thank you for going out of your way for me, Alastor.” You slip out of his coat, returning it to him. It’s cold—has it always been this cold. “Will I see you around?”

“Of course,” he says. “We always meet in such unconventional places.”

You duck out of the umbrella, giving him one last smile and head up the steps. A twist of a doorknob, a few flights of stairs, and you would be home. You were tired, your socks are soaking, and the back of your clothes stick to your skin. So, why…why do you find yourself running back into the rain?

“Wait!” you find yourself exclaiming.

Alastor covers you with his umbrella. “What’s wrong?”

‘I… I may have a problem.” The words are slipping out of your lips. “Are you busy by any chance?”

“Not at all.”

“What about your business in the area?”

Alastor raises his eyebrows. “I can always come back.”

“Would you help me?” You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Of course.” Alastor brings the umbrella closer to you. “What can I do for you?”

“I think…” you begin to say. Stop. Stop! You should turn back; head inside where warm clothes and a bath awaits you. “I think I’m in the wrong area.”

Alastor laughs, and it’s that same breathy and light laugh as before. He drapes his coat over your shoulder once more, and adjusts its fit to secure it around you. It’s the warmest thing you’ve ever experienced in your life. “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I left a lady stranded in the rain.”

“Not at all,” you say with a smile that you do not remember smiling. “Lots of scary thieves and murders out there—apparently they don’t disappear during the day.”

Alastor nudges you along, down the path, to a destination either of you have the faintest idea where it will end.

Your feet stay locked in its place, and you hold Alastor in your gaze. (His bowtie is crooked, and even with his coat around you, he looks presentable. His vest matches his shoes. You note how his smile is asymmetrical, and how his eyes are still as brown as his hair. Alastor’s glasses are frosted, but he doesn’t seem to mind.)

“Are you alright?” Alastor asks you.

“I’m fine. It’s just….” You shake your head and smile. “It would be a waste to forget this.”

“Come on,” Alastor says in a voice that is oh so soft. He offers his arm, and you hook your own around his.

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“Motherfucker!” Husk curses into the air, his ears quirking as he does. “Would it fucking kill you to be gentle with that shit?”

“I am being gentle.” You stare him down, keeping the towel pressed firm against his foot. “Would you want to know what it’s like when I’m not? I’d be very happy to comply.”

“………No.”

“Then settle down, Husker,” you say and use your free hand to grab the forceps from the hotel’s medical kit. “This will be much easier if you stay still…or don’t and give yourself a harder time. I’m not the one with glass sticking out of my foot.”

Husk sinks into the clinic bed, sulking as he crosses his arms. He picks on the pillow, fidgeting with its seams. “Bitch.”

You raise your eyebrows and huff. “Virgin.”

Husk’s fangs show when he growls. “I am not…grandma.”

Your feathers bristle. It’s smart to keep Husk talking, even if hurling insults is the way to do so. If it keeps him distracted, you won’t complain. “I died in my late twenties…or was it my early thirties — I honestly forget.”

The blood on his foot begins to clot, and you toss the towel to the waste basket. You walk to the sink, rinsing stray droplets of Husk’s blood with soap.

“Settle down then, grandma,” he says with a triumphant smile, and you roll your eyes. “Today, it’s your memories. Tomorrow, it could be anything.”

You plop on the clinic chair, waiting for your hands to dry. “Yes, it would make sense you’re familiar with the signs,” you shoot back, “considering you lived long enough to be called Pawpaw — Is that why you’re a cat?”

Husk barks a laugh, his wings flaring. He grabs the pillow and tosses it to you. It hits the side of the chair and langs on your lap. You pick it up and toss it back at him. “At least my husband didn’t walk out on me for several years without so much as a word.”

You chuckle, and settle his foot on your leg for better access. Taking your forceps, you brush away slivers of glass from Husk’s foot …or would this be his paw?

You clip a shard of glass, and glance at him. When Husk doesn’t whine like a little bitch, you pull a shard and drop it to the metal pan across you. “At least my marriage lasted even through death, Arachnid Simp.”

Husk rolls his eyes. You smile when his whiskers twitch. “Where did you even learn that word?”

“I see you’re not going to deny it.”

Husk sinks deeper into the bed.

“This wouldn’t be happening if you—I don’t know—wore these things called shoes?” You pluck another shard of glass. Husk tries to jerk his foot away, but your hold stays firm. “They were invented a long, long, time ago, and were created to keep your feet protected.”

“Stop talking as if I’m a child.” Husk frowns and his teeth stick out. “Wearing them feels weird.”

“I guess they kind of are weird.” You grab a fresh towel when blood squirts out of Husk’s foot. “You die and then suddenly waking up to see you don’t have toes

A beat passes between you. “Do you…do you not have toes?”

You toss the towel, and pick out the last shard. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.”

“What does that even mean?” Husk growls, running his palms over his face.

“I…have absolutely no idea.”

You reach into the medical kit, grabbing some dressing. You peel the plastic and toss it to the trash, and press it against his foot.

Egg Boi #03 waddles up to you, a gauze roll in his tiny hands — you weren’t aware the little egg creature was in the room. You thank him with a smile, and wrap the gauze roll around Husk’s paw then his ankle. Satisfied, you clip it in its place.

“You’re all done,” you say. “It might be weird to step on it for a few hours, but it’s not impossible. The glass didn’t puncture you too deep.”

“Good to know.”

“Oh…and just in case, the amount of blood you saw isn’t anything to be scared of. There’s just a lot of tiny vessels on the foot. That’s why it took a while for it to stop,” you say and toss him a new set of gauze rolls and pads.

Husk stares at the items. “I don’t know how to use this.”

You stare at him, leaning into the chair. “Just slap the square on the skin and roll the gauze around your foot.”

Husk hops out of the clinic, keeping pressure off his injury.

It takes a while to clean up after yourself, but Egg Boi #03 keeps you company. The little egg speaks a lot of nonsense, but it’s entertaining nonetheless. You flick the lights, and Egg Boi #03 follows behind you.

The chandeliers had been dragged away, and the glass and debris cleared off the carpet.

Mimzy’s hug makes you take a step back.

You squirm in her hold, placing a placating hand on her shoulders.

“I am sooooo glad you are here!” Mimzy exclaims, shaking your shoulders. “This is like one big reunion, ay. Just between you and me, that Lucifer is a real looker—shame on Alastor for not warning a gal. I would have dressed better, and who knows? Maybe I could be the Queen of Hell. Ha!”

Mimzy grabs your arm and drags you to the bar. Husk pours you a drink with a nod, and stalks away. Seeing him hop up the stairs makes you laugh.

You swirl your drink. “It’s always good to see you, old friend.”

“Not that old!” Mimzy swats your arm, a huge grin on her lips. “And there’s no need to lie to me, darling. I doubt you actually feel that way.”

“Well, I still have those burn marks on my wall from the time you decided to play bartender with matches.”

Mimzy barks a laugh, and her legs kick. “C’mon you can’t still be blaming me! If I remember correctly, it was Alastor who brought out the matches.”

Angel Dust walks up to you with Sir Pentious trailing behind him. You wave.Sir Pentious waves back, his hood flapping open.

“Mind if we join ya?” Angel Dust asks.

“Not at all,” Mimzy says. “I’m always weak to such lookers.”

Angel Dust takes the seat next to you and pushes back his hair. Sir Pentious takes the one behind him. “Sooooo, you two and Alastor run in the same circles.” He takes a drink. “And you guys are friends with him?”

You take a sip of your own drink. “You could describe it that way.”

“Well, those are your words, not mind, but I think it fits.” Mimzy glances at you, a knowing smile on her lips. “But our good doctor here is more than just—Hey! Why do you look so surprised?”

“Well, I just didn't know he had any of those. He's been here a while and is still a big, creepy mystery,” Angel Dust says. Sir Pentious nods, his head squeaking as he does “What's his deal?”

Mimzy is happy to explain tall, dark, and creepy’s ‘deal’.

“But before that, he was the prime bachelor of my day,” Mimzy says. “Not a single lady wouldn’t want a taste of that twink. But eh… I wouldn’t wish marriage with Alastor on even my worst enemies. It would be a real shock when you die and find out your hubby’s got a real screw loose.”

“Well, it wasn’t a shock to me,” you say, rolling your eyes. You swirl your drink—hmmm, it’s good to know Husk still knows what you like.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” Mimzy chuckles nervously. She scoots closer, elbowing you lightly. “You happy he’s back? I still remember the few months you’d visit my place to look for your deerest, most darling Alastor, Mimzy at the bottom of a bottle.”

Your eyes twitch. “Quite pleased actually,” you say and force a smile. “It’s great to finally see my husband again.”

“Husband?” Angel Dust chokes on his drink.

Sir Pentious tilts his head and his hat slides off a bit. “Oh you’re married?”

You show them your ring, wiggling your finger. “Indeed.”

Sir Pentious puffs out his chest. “I would love to meet thisss husband of yours,” he says. “If you cannot be my rival, he can fight in your stead.”

“That wouldn’t be a smart idea

Mimzy stares at him. “He’s not the brightest is he?”

Angel Dust drops his drink with a clink. “Pause,” he splutters. “Shut u—” He coughs, still reeling from his drink going down the wrong pipe. “Shut up. Plause. Pause!”

Sir Pentious frowns, and his tongue sticks out. “No one elssseee is talking.”

“There is no way,” Angel Dust says. He turns to you, eyes bulging. “I refuse to believe that Freaky got hitched.”

Sir Pentious gapes, and his hoop opens. “Alastor is married as well?”

Mimzy slaps her forehead and points to you. “He’s married to her!”

“You are mess’in with me,” Angel Dust says. “Well, you can’t trick me. I refuse to believe it, toots.”

Mimzy takes a swig of her drink. “No one’s mes’in with ya,” she says with bright eyes. “They had a big white wedding and everything. I even got to bless them with my singing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Mimzy glares at Angel Dust, a hand on her hips and her noise in the air. “You calling me a liar?”

You place a hand on Mimzy’s shoulder. “It was a good day, wasn’t it?” you say.

“Could’ve been better without the rain,” she says shrugging.

The lights flicker. Static fills the air, making your skin buzz. The bar glows a faint green. “The rain made it sentimental actually,” you say and glance up the stairs. “We quite like the rain.”

Angel Dust crosses both sets of arms. “I thought you said you were friends.”

“I said partners,” you tell him. “Alastor said friends.”

Angel Dust blinks at you and sighs. “So, you married him? Like you’re his wife.”

“I am, indeed!”

“Are you sure?”

“I sure hope so,” you say, crossing your legs. “It would be weird not to be sure considering I was there in a white dress, walking down the aisle.” Mimzy barks a laugh, and the feathers on her head sway. A part of you hopes she topples off the chair.

“Uh…Is this something we should know?” Angel Dust asks. “He’s not going to try to kill me because I learned about this right?”

“We’re not trying to hide it, but we don’t broadcast it either,” you say. “And well…no wife likes to be introduced as a ‘friend’.”

Sir Pentious’ tongue sticks out. “Does Alasssstor own your soul or something?”

You empty your drink and revel in the taste. “We got married back when we were alive.”

Angel Dust reaches across the bar, grabbing a whole bottle off the shelf with his long arms. He pops open the cork and takes a swig straight from the bottom. “I still have trouble belive you,” he says, squinting his eyes. “I just…I can’t!”

“Your belief, or lack of, won’t change the fact that I have a ring,” you say. “And it’s not really for you to believe, now is it?”

“Why…?” Angel Dust’s mouth quirks into the cutest frown. “Why…ya’know?”

You sigh and place a hand on your cheek with a smile. “He makes me laugh.”

Angel Dust makes a face, and coils back like he’s been shot.

“Oh he’s a total kitten,” Mimzy says with a bright smile. She inches her glass closer to Angel Dust, and he fills it up for her. “Catch him in a good mood or pour him a drink and play some jazz and he’s totally harmless.”

“You still shouldn’t toss caution into the air, Mimzy” you say. “If I were you, I’d be wary about trusting Alastor just because he likes cleaning up your mess.”

Angel Dust crosses his arm, and his eyebrows quirk. “Ain’t he your hubby?” he says. “Isn’t there this whole spiel about trust and love and faith and all that other boring vanilla shit.”

“He wouldn’t be the Radio Demon if he could be trusted by just anyone, now would he?” you say. “It still crosses me when I remember how he lied to me.”

Angel Dust’s eyes shine. “You said no wife likes being introduced as a ‘friend’.”

“Yes?”

“It must have crossed you quite a lot, huh?”

You shrug, a bit confused. “I mean… I wasn’t really a big deal at the end of the day.”

Angel Dust’s smile widens and that golden tooth of his shimmer. “I want to know everything.”

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Despite the rain, clear skies show the moon, not a cloud in sight.

The flashlight clipped on your collar shines on your path. Your boots sink deep into the mud, but that’s alright. A few inches of goo won’t stop you from your destination. You adjust your leather medical bag—double checked that there are gloves inside.

Between those two trees, your treasure lies buried.

You lay your kit on some nearby stones and reach in for your gloves. You dig until bits of the cadaver’s skin stick out. You brush the soil of his chest and peel open the flaps of his skin. The underside of his skin has blood vessels attached to it. It was worth cutting out the fat to have a glimpse.

Superficial fascia connects his muscles to his dermis. You take your probe and disconnect the thin filament. It reminds you of spider-webs.

You discard your probe and exchange it for the bottle of formaldehyde. You can’t study the whole body, not when it’s exposed to the elements. His fingers are starting to rot, but that’s alright. The chest is all you need, for now. So, the chest is all you’ll preserve.

The cheesecloth you placed on him last night is still damp. Good, that means it’s been sanitized this whole time. You take the cheesecloth and wife it against his open cavity, sanitizing every surface you can reach.

The formalin stings your nose and burns your eyes. It makes you cough, but you push through the pungent chemical.

You peel off the cheesecloth and use it to spread formalin into the deeper crevices between his skin and muscle.

Good. There are no maggots yet. It means you still have time.

You discard your gloves for a fresh pair and prepare your tools. You take your forceps and clip the scalpel blade onto the handle. You lay all your tools on a clean cloth for easy reach.

A human’s adipose tissue buildup is thicker than animals. This man’s fat is soft, easily squishable. Sadly, you’re not here to study his fat.

The scalpel blade is balanced perfectly. Throughout this Earth, no… not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

You slice through his adipose tissue, discarding it behind you, carving the cadaver until a nice rectangle opening forms. Muscles are grey, not like the red color printed on textbooks. You run your fingers along the smooth fibers of his pectorals. It’s slimy. That’s probably moisture mixing with the formaldehyde.

You quirk your shoulder to adjust the angle of your flashlight, still running your hand on his pectoral.

There, on the side of the chest where a muscle resembles a fan, do you find what you’re looking for.

Taking your probe, you define the muscle. You don’t use your scapple—never a scapple, because it could slice the fibers. You’ll scrape off the muscles later when it’s time to move on to the systems.

You take a pen and write your notes.

Muscle name: Serratus Ventralis. Description: The Serratus Ventralis appears to be a fan-shaped muscle, just like Hyman writes it to be. Although he’s not describing humans, I think it looks the same. Will double check to see if such similarities are indeed correct. Just like the book says, I can see the muscle extending anteriorly and posteriorly from the scapula and to the walls of the thorax. The Serratus Ventralis appears to be divisible into anterior and posterior portions, with the anterior originating deeper into the body. (Will cut open if there is still time.) The posterior border seems to be where it originates from, and while it is buried by other muscles, I think it originates from somewhere between the ribs. Origin, Insertion, Action: Origin: Textbook says it originates from the outer surfaces of the upper eight or nine ribs. (Will double check once I’ve moved on.) Insertion: The muscle fibers appear to move upward to the side. Inserts along the anterior surface of the medial border of the scapula Action: If it indeed is inserted from the scapula, this could mean that it could draw the scapula, forward, backward or against the body.

You flip to the previous page, and cross out Serratus ventralis. You move on to the muscle on your list: Xiphihumeralis. Based on the name, the muscle should pass through the xiphoid process to the sternu—

“Is this what you meant about my trash being your treasure?”

You startle, jumping back until a tree hits you and there’s nowhere else to escape. Run. Run. Run! Your heart screams at you, hammering in your chest. No one is supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be alone. You were careful—not careful enough, apparently.

Alastor emerges from the trees.

He waves at you when your gazes meet, but you don’t wave back. He’s smiling. “Hello,” he greets you with a gentle voice that strikes your core. It would be foolish to mistake his gentleness for kindness. “And yet again, I’m forced to comment on how you have such interesting hobbies.”

You press deeper into the tree, even if a knot digs into your back. “This….” You pause, trying to find your voice. Do you run? “This isn’t a hobby. I’m merely studying.”

Alastor drops a bag on the ground. It looks heavy. “A man?”

“A cadaver,” you say, careful to keep your voice steady. You cannot let this man see any cracks. “They’re already dead, aren’t they? Wouldn’t it be a waste to let them rot like this? At least now, their sorry lives will be making a meaningful contribution.”

The admission of your crime was easy to say. You don’t want to know what that means about you.

Alastor laughs. It’s not that breathy and light laugh he had earlier. This one is lighter, more elated. “Please, tell me more.”

You harden your heart, searching for any speck of bravery. “Why would I?”

Alastor smiles until his teeth show. The moon makes his brown eyes glow—you did not think it would be such an attractive color. “I’m the one holding the large knife.”

You glance at his hand, and oh…that indeed is quite a large knife. It’s not even a kitchen knife, but a proper hunting blade meant to kill. “I see you’re resorting to threats,” you say and you don’t know why you do. It’s not really a smart idea. “I did not think you, a man, would feel the need to say such things to a woman.”

“That was barely a threat,” he says. “I’m just curious to know your motivation to dig up trash.”

“I’m studying—that’s my reason.”

Alastor waves the knife as he talks. “Are there no other dead bodies for you to prey on?” he says. “Don’t hospitals have an area specifically to keep the dead?”

“Only morticians or medical students are allowed access,” you say. “I am neither.”

“Why not become one then?”

“Women as doctors are still a relatively new phenomena,” you say. “There is not a single medical school in this area that will allow me to study, nor are there any that won’t bring me into debt.” Your blood boils and it replaces your thumping heart. It still beats in your chest, but it’s not because of fear. “I needed to find a way to learn, to study, and textbooks could only describe it in words. I want to see for myself.”

Alastor plays with the tip of the knife. “Sounds like a classic case of lusting for knowledge.”

“If lust is to be my sin,” you start and a wonky smile appears on your face, “pride would be yours. A classic case of judge, jury and executioner.”

“I do not need to explain myself to you.”

“Well, you are holding the larger knife,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Anything more you’d like to know?”

Alastor hums at you. “How did you figure it out?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” you say, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. “You should buy suspicious items at different times and places. Your turn—How did you know I was here?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” he echoes laughing like he’s told the funniest joke. “You shouldn’t have told me where you lived so easily. I thought I would have to hang around your clinic for a few days before I got your address.”

“I made sure to be careful.”

“You weren’t in the slightest,” he tells you. “Even an animal is harder to track. It was quite a surprise to see you heading in this direction.”

“Wait…,” you say slowly. “Hang around the clinic? You…you were stalking me?”

“I wouldn’t say stalking,” he says, putting his arms up. “And if we’re pointing fingers, you would have had to follow me around for a few days to learn where I buried my trash.”

Your eyes drift to his bag, and then to his knife. Realization hits you like a cruel bus. You face heat. “You!”

“Me?”

“You lied to me!” you say, venom lacing your words as you puff. “You had no business in the area, nor did you randomly spot me! You followed to kill me, didn't you?”

Alastor smiles at you.

“Oh my God!” you scream at him, throwing your arms into the air. You point at him, glaring “You’re still going to kill me?”

“I can’t exactly let you leave, my dear,” he says, rolling his eyes. “What did you think?”

You stare down at him from your nose. “Don’t be so brainless,” you spit, crossing your arms. “If you would use this thing on your head called a, ‘brain’, and use it to think, you would be able to deduce that you’re currently not in cuffs.”

Alastor glares back at you, tightening his grip on the knife. You don’t give a single flying fuck.

“Since you are adamant on not using your brain, I shall do so for you,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “If I wanted to rat you out to the coppers, wouldn’t I have done so already? Hmmmm?”

“Don’t speak to me as if I am a child.”

“I wouldn’t have to, if you aren’t thinking like one,” you say. “Why would I tattle on someone for giving me what I want.”

Alastor gives you a dry smile. “So much sarcasm to the person who does so.”

You cross your arms and lean against the tree. “I suppose I should be thanking you.”

“Will you?”

“No,” you say. “I don’t thank liars.”

You smile to yourself when Alastor rolls his eyes and furrows his brow. That strained smile of his is an extra bonus.

“If you’re going to kill me, be quick with it,” you say. “I’d like to die with my dignity as a lady.”

“How curious,” he says. “You’re not going to try and run? Fight me off in some clever way? Those are always the best kinds of hunts.”

You roll your eyes, making a point to show him that you are doing so. “That would be a waste of our time, wouldn’t it? And I think you’ll forgive me if I am not exactly keen on giving my murderer the satisfaction of experiencing ‘the best kinds of hunt’.”

Alastor laughs, breathy and light this time. He tosses the knife into the trees and puts his arms up as if surrendering. “It seems you have made me change my mind,” he says. “Not many are able to do so—especially not when I’ve settled on a hunt.”

“What an honor then,” you say, smiling dryly.

“Indeed, it is.” He takes a step forward, and when you don’t run, he walks to you and brushes stray dirt off your shoulders.

“Why change your mind?”

He smiles, inching closer to you. That is for me to know,” he says. “But, what I will say is I know potential when I see it.”

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“Someone, please, kill me again!” Angel Dust massages his forehead with one arm, using the other to empty the bottle. His third arm reaches into the bar shelves for a new one. You stare at his arms and wonder just how it got to be so long. “You’ve got to be shiting me right now. That’s your example? That’s your final answer?”

You pick at the wooden table, suddenly finding it hard to meet his eyes “Yes…?”

Angel Dust chugs his bottle at your answer. Mimzy avoids direct eye contact, choosing to study her empty glass. Even Sir Pentious keeps his gaze locked to the floor.. You bite on your cheek, letting out a soft huff.

If they didn’t want to know, they should not have asked.

“Out of all the misery he’s caused and will be causing,” Angel Dust says, “you think that Freaky ly’in to you about his reason for walking you home was the best possible example.”

“Yes?”

Angel Dust takes a deep breath. “Let’s be clear, okay? I’ll rephrase what I said, so listen closely,” he says. “Alastor lied about – and let me get this right—he lied to you about why he was in the area, and that’s why – hold on, bear with me – and that is why you were angry.”

You cross your arms, huffing a bit. “You make it sound stupid.”

Mimzy sighs, shaking her head with amusement. “That’s because it is, darling.”

“It is not!” you say, pouting. “It’s a very valid reason to be cross.”

Angel Dust takes another swig of his bottle. “It’s the fact that you weren’t angry that he was going to murder you in cold blood for me.”

You throw your arms into the air. “Okay, so it might not have been the best example,” you say, tapping your legs. “But that isn’t exactly my fault. Alastor is strangely honest.”

Angel Dust gapes at you. “No, he is not!”

“I don’t know, hun,” Mimzy says, leaning against the bar table. “Alastor kina is.”

“You won’t get the truth if you don’t ask,” you say, nodding your head. “And when you do ask, Alastor will either say the full horrifying truth, say it in a way that’s vague but still considered to be true, or dodge and not answer your question.”

Sir Pentious tilts his head, and he keeps a hand on his hat to keep it from falling. “And that is why we should not trust him?”

“There is no we, my dear,” you say. “That’s why you shouldn’t trust him.”

The hotel trembles.

You startle in your seat, gripping the table for stability. Mimzy clutches your arm, and you grab hers. It’s a small reassuring gesture that would make you smile at any other moment. Someone pounds on the door. You snap your head towards the entrance, nearly giving yourself whiplash. The hinges creak with every bang, and you watch with horror as the wooden frame begins to crack. Whatever wants to go in is determined to do so.

“MIMZY! We know you’re in there, you lousy bitch!”

You lock eyes with Mimzy, glaring at her with bristled feathers. “Really?”

“Whooops…?” she says with the most innocent smile. You grab your glass and throw it at her head. Mimzy snarls at you, searching for a stray bottle. She never finds it.

Glass rains down to the floor. Dust fills the space, and you cough when it irritates your throat. The whole hotel is in disarray. With a yelp, you jump away from the bar when one of the bone heads detaches and crushes your seat.

Mimzy scurries behind the bar.

A portal rips open in the middle of the room…Huh, that’s pretty cool. Vaggie steps out, Lucifer and Charlie behind her. “What is going on?”

Mimzy explains what she did. You roll your eyes when she does.

Fireballs shoot out the broken windows.

Motherfucker! You are going to kill Mimzy. You press against the wall to avoid Sir Pentious’ long tail from smacking into you as he slithers about. Angel Dust scurried away at the first sign of trouble. Of-fucking-course this happens today. Niffty scurries about, cleaning every debris in sight, You grab her by the collar, pulling her away from a stray fire. Niffty squirms out of your hold, and hops away. Another fireball keeps you from pursuing her.

“We’re under siege!” Sir Pentious exclaims, slithering about. “Take cover!”

Alastor pops out of your shadow, jerking your arm to pull you away.

You flap your arms to regain your balance.

Alastor keeps a steady hand on your shoulder, his hold on you firm. His touch keeps you grounded. Your eyes flutter to where you pressed against the wall, but Alastor pokes your cheek with the tips of your fingers, nudging your face to keep your eyes on him. The hotel burns in chaos, and you dig your fingers into the fabric of his coat.

Alastor holds your gaze. He smiles at you softly, but you see the hardness in his eyes and the tension is his jaw.

You try to give him your best smile. “Much better?”

“No, not in the slightest” he says, eyes squinting into a harsh glare. Alastor doesn’t frown, but his teeth bare into a snarl. “Are you hurt?”

The hotel trembles, and more fire crashes through the windows.

You try to turn to the chaos around you, but Alastor leans to the side, blocking the surroundings with his face. “I’d like an answer.”

He smoothes the feathers on your hair, and you lean into his hold, shaking your head. “Not a single feather out of place,” you say. “Thank you, my deerest.”

The hotel trembles once more, but you keep your gaze locked into Alastor’s.

“All of you get a safe distance,” Vaggie says, spear raised.” I’ll take care of this.”

Satisfied, Alastor drops his hand from your head and turns to the door. “No, my dear. Leave it to me.” Radio static warps the air around you. His eyes morph into radio dials. “It’s time I remind everyone why I am here.” He has the smile on his face—that same smile that tell you he’s on the hunt. It makes you buzz.

Mimzy pops her head out. “Ugh, finally!” she says, rolling her eyes. “Took you long enough.”

Tendrils shoot out of Alastor’s back and it waves around the air as if owning a mind of its own. His bones break with audible cracks to adjust to his expanding size. “A reminder to all, not to mess with the radio demon!” His teeth stick out when he smiles, and the little ‘x’ on his forehead appears.

Alastor laughs and begins his kill.

You rush out when your husband crawls out the broken doors, bolting from the bar and out the entrance. You watch Alastor. He grabs a shark with the tips of his fingers and uses the others to pull him apart, slowly, painfully, with a grin.

“Mimzy…” you say, slowly.

Mimzy shrinks next to you. “…Yeah?”

Alastor’s nails elongate and he pierces the shark, letting his blood trail down, reveling in his screams. “I really appreciate everything you do for me.”

A leg sails across the air, it’s bone sticking out. You smile to yourself as Alastor hunts down his prey. Blood paints the flowers red when his tendrils wag like a happy tail.

You’re faintly aware of Lucifer and Charlie arguing behind you.

The show is over too soon.

Alastor shrinks, twirls his microphone and stretches.

Mimzy runs, the first to approach Alastor. You don’t hear a word they’re saying, but Mimzy jabs her fingers into his coat. She leaves with a frown and a middle finger pointed at him.

You walk closer to your husband, a smile on your face. Alastor inches to you, bending close enough for you to reach his bowtie. The fabric is smooth against your fingers as your straighten it for him. “Much better?” you ask.

“Indeed.”

“You put up quite the show,” you tell him. “You looked absolutely riveting, my deer.”

Alastor’s smile widens, and he offers his arm, guiding you back into the hotel. “Did I?”

“You always do, my love.”

And oh…

Another song.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Lucifer leaves, taking his singing with him.

As quietly as possible, you grab your belongings and check that nothing is missing: wallet, flip-phone, bus card, pieces of mint, various essential items, and lastly, your umbrella. You step out of what is left of the Hazbin Hotel’s front doors and stifle a yawn. Today’s excitement has gone on for too long. It was time to go home.

Drops of acid fall from the sky, a light drizzle forming. It was a good idea to stash that umbrella in your bag.

Alastor slithers out of your shadow, and covers your heads with an umbrella. “Did you happen to forget your umbrella?”

You force a sheepish smile on your lips. “I did, actually,” you lie to him. “But a walk seems rather lovely today.”

Alastor twirls the umbrella, his smile widening. “May I join you for your walk?”

“Are you not still working?” You glance behind you, observing the hotel.

Angel Dust sweeps glass off the carpet. He steals glances from time to time, trying his hardest to avoid looking in your direction—he doesn’t try hard enough. Your eyes meet, and you brush your stray feathers from your hair. A not so subtle way of showing off your ring. You stick out your tongue.

Angel Dust laughs, shaking his head with amusement.

Alastor adjusts the umbrella, angling it to block the prying eyes from inside the hotel. He raises his eyebrows, looking at you with a questionable glance.

You offer your most innocent smile. “I think they’re going to need a new door.”

“I think it’s time I clocked out,” he sys, inching the umbrella closer. “I shouldn’t have them getting too dependent on me.”

“Are those not grounds for prime picking?”

“I wouldn’t exactly be a doting husband if I left my wife to walk alone in the rain,” Alastor tells you.

“Doting husband?”

He nods, leaning closer to you. “Yes. Was that not your condition for our marriage?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Did I say that?”

“You did.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, humming a bit. “I do not remember saying that at all.”

“Well, it wasn’t for you to remember,” he says. “And in any case, I did not call you to the hotel to prepare for some party.”

“Then why did you call me here?”

Alastor meets your eyes and his smile widens. “Allow me to join you, and you shall find out.”

“You’ve piqued my interest, deerest,” you say. “The best walks are usually the ones that are shared. It doesn’t hurt that you have an umbrella.”

“What would you do without me?”

You roll your eyes, and take a step closer. “You always seem to remember for me.”

Alastor fiddles with the umbrella. “What did you do for several years—get pelted by acid?”

“You would know the answer to that had you been present for those years,” you say and you don’t fight the coy smile that forms on your lips.

Alastor hums in displeasure. “Well, in any case, I only have this one umbrella.”

“I guess we’ll have to share.”

“Yes, it seems we will.”

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his. He doesn’t need to take precautions to ensure your clothes stay dry nor do you have to for his own attire, not when you press closely against each other. The umbrella covers the both of you just right.

You rest your head on his arm. It’s nice. Warm. Even if it was as thick as a stick. His bones press into your cheek. Your eyes flutter into a close… just… one… second…

Your knees buckle causing you to trip.

A frim grab of your waist keeps you from the ground. Your nose crinkles when you collide with Alastor’s chest. Finding strength in your legs, you dig your foot into the ground and stand.

Alastor keeps his hold on your waist steady, and you don’t move from his hold.

“Before you say anything—you are not fine,” he says. “I don’t want to hear anything else but an agreement.”

You peel your face from his chest, meeting his eyes to give him the brightest smile you can muster. It doesn’t come out as you hope. “It seems…It seems it will be my turn to postpone our outing today,” you say. “The excitement of the day seems to be catching up to me.”

You fell asleep while walking,” he says. “If it was not for me, you would be on the pavement.”

“Then it is a good thing I am no longer alone.”

A single tendril emerges from his back. It wraps around the umbrella’s handle, keeping it secured over your heads.

Alastor’s hand shifts from your waist to your back. You feel his other arm snaking down your legs, trailing your skin until he reaches the back of your knees.

Alastor lifts you like a bride.

Well, you actually are a bride…his bride, specifically.

Alastor continues the walk, holding you in his arms. You lean into him, and he places a chin on your head. “Your pointy chin is poking me, my deerest,” you say but you don’t move to push him off. “It’s digging into my scalp.

His chest rise and fall as he laughs, and you feel every bit of it against your cheek. “I could always drop you right over this puddle.”

“That wouldn’t really be part of the doting husband image, would it?” you say chuckling into his suit.

“No, I guess it would not.”

Smiling to yourself, you nuzzle deeper into the crook of his neck. “Hey, Al,” you mumble softly, “tell me a story.”

At the corner of your eyes, you see Alastor glance at you. His gaze lasts a second before he turns back ahead. “It was 1929,” he says. “The beginning of the glorious Great Depression.”

You roll your eyes even if he doesn’t see it. “You are the only one I know who calls the Great Depression ‘glorious’. People were starving, and we almost got fired from our jobs.”

“That’s because it was a great year.”

“Because you got to see the sufferings of the masses?” You laugh softly. “That’s definitely something you would do. I can practically hear you laughing at the way they try to claw their way out of misery, only to fail spectacularly.”

“Because we got married that year,” he says. Even if you’re wearing a coat, and Alastor wears his gloves. Even with layers of cloth between your skin, you still feel the way Alastor caress your with his thumb. “Can I continue my story now or would you like to bicker about your failing memory?”

“Continue.”

“So, the start of the glorious Great Depression,” he says. “That day, I saw an ad for the local zoo. I wasn’t doing anything important, so I decided to support my local animals.”

“How kind of you,” you say, stifling a yawn.

“Indeed it was,” he says. “I stalk through the animals. Looking at every malnourished species they kept locked up—”

“You get to the alligator enclosure and to this day, swear that you saw it do a backflip,” you mumble softly, eyes dropping. “That’s pretty good for someone you claim to possess failing memories.”

“Alright then. I shall find another.” Alastor hums as he thinks, and his chest vibrates as he does. “Summer of 1916–long before I met you.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” you say, huffing. “I’m well aware of the year we met, my deer. So, Summer of 1916?”

“It was a dark and stormy night. Weird for the summer seasons. Usually, the house becomes a furnace, but it was terribly cold,” Alastor tells you. “During that second night of the hurricane, a knock sounds from the door.”

“Oh… I’ve heard this as well.” You pick on the lapels of Alastor’s coat, tracing the white lines.

“You have?” Alastor raises his eyebrows

“Yes, it was your neighbor. His tree fell into the window and you and your mother ended up sheltering him for the night,” you say. “Then, you’ll tell me that he gifted you three pounts of cheese the next week.”

“I guess there’s nothing left to tell.”

You lean back to meet his eyes. They’re no longer brown. Once, a long time ago, you thought it was your favorite color. Now, you don’t think you’ve ever had a favorite color. You just liked his color. “Nonsense,” you says. “We are definitely not that old. I’m sure there should be be at least a few.”

“Alright, this one began fifteen years ago,” he says, tightening his grip on you. “I was waiting outside St. An’s, and a Sinner came out. It was my first time seeing a cow. It was quite a conundrum because — Oh, I think you’ve heard this already. Have you?”

Your eyelids are heavy. “I have.”

“And you choose not to inform me?”

“Can you tell it to me again?” You sink deeper into his hold.

“Of course, my love.”

Alastor’s steps lag until he comes to a full stop. He holds you in his gaze as the acid rain splatters grow stronger. It’s just you and him in this tiny bubble of an umbrella.

His eyes flicker, touching every inch of this scene. You do not know what he is thinking.

“Are you alright, my love?” you find yourself asking.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m just…trying not to waste, that’s all.”

“Come on,” you say in a voice that is oh so soft.

Alastor continues his story. You don’t hear the end of it.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part: | Part 4: The Radio Stars' Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes| I am excited to know what you guys think about this chapter. My replies and inbox are always open for any questions. I always get so happy to see my notifications. It's a bit addicting actually. Thank you to everyone who has interacted with this story. Every like, reblog, and reply means so much to me. Part 4 will be poasted as soon as possible

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packsvlog · 14 days

Text

⠀🎱⋆˙⊹ … OLYMP, the darlings of this gerenation, one direction gone rock, has another scandal following it’s name. once again, caused by none other than member naoya zen’in. this time, under the care of their new agency, NME, seems like the dust won’t be hidden. naoya is out, expelled with only an instagram post and pats on his back as a goodbye. the world and the band’s fans are split, while some think it was too much ( he has done worse, after all ), others are finally relieved. the constant headache of his presence is gone, but what about the void of his angelic voice? who will take his place?

𖦹 instagram ⋆ ⠀🎸

Liked by olymparchive and 2,6M others.

olympofficial Is with a heavy heart that we announce that our member Naoya Zen’in, know for his stage name Apollo, is departing ways to pursue his own solo career. We send you blessings and wishes of luck.

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olymphoe this is so unnecessary! bring him back, he is just an angel 😭

tojititts yeah, lucifer

gongojonon put ⭑ in his place!

naoyableachedhair that’s like changing from water to h20

getoslut that’s rude, she’s not as nearly as bad as him. i think :/

cowboygojou who is she?

sukunasacrifice @ohbabyi

aresinrehab you can sense the sassyness, mr nanami himself wrote that!

˚⠀ ᯤ ﹑ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐬. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐬. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬. ♰ ◞‏‏‎ ‎

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ⋆ social media and written ⋆ modern world!au ⋆ famous!au ⋆ this series has topics of prejudice such as homophobia, misogyny, abuse of power, substance use and addiction ⋆ smut ⋆ more in depths in the chapters ⋆

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⋆ reader x multiple

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋆ open, leave a comment to be tagged ⋆

𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 ⋆ minors are not allowed to interact with this post ⋆ do not spam like, because it affects my account, you may reblog it as you please, but more than five likes in a row and i’m blocking you ⋆ not a rule, but interactions are really motivating, so leave a comment on the chapters, please ⋆

well, hi. hello! new series being posted, this time with a rockstar universe. icaru’s sun is an idea i’ve been harboring for a while now and one night i made the poster and the next the synopsis, so i think it’s ready to be presented to all of you. it it’s not a light fic, because, as you can see from the warnings there is a lot to look out for, and that is just the tip of the iceberg. i’ll make sure to add on the chapters the more in detail warning for those who would like to be cautious, and you’re valid for that! differently from bet you can’t, my other series, this won’t have that amount of pairings, is strictly with band members and maybe a bit more, you will see. the end will also be different. i guess that summarizes what is to be expected, see you later.

#♱ 𓂃 ࣪ ˖ fancam ! ᯤ #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #toji x reader #sukuna x reader #naoya x reader #nanami x reader #shiu kong x reader #choso x reader #smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #fem!reader

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featguler · 3 months

Text

held my bluff this time ────── a confession long due.

♡ ────── pairing : kylian mbappé x reader ♡ ────── tags : reader's gender, ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified. reader works @ nike and meets kylian there, they also live in paris. set in a bar, OPEN ENDING!!!!!! ♡ ────── wordcount : 1,041 ♡ ────── notes : it seems like all i write for is kylian omfg...... idk he's my muse (LMAO). another good luck post: good luck for tonight, boys... i trust that you won't disappoint me and that i'll see you in the semi-finals. i have morning shift so i wont be watching... the french nt is not paying my bills. title is from garden gate by mon rovîa ♡ masterlist.

“Spain?”

Just as he sees you settle in on the bar with a glass in your hand, Kylian decides to put on a brave face and approach you. Assigned to him a few months ago, you have been the one he turns to most in his Nike sponsorship shenanigans—business meetings, merchandise design, shooting locations; everything he could think of, you were there for him.

“Spain,” You confirm with a light chuckle, drinking a bit of the beverage in your hand. “Barcelona, to be precise.”

Damn it, Kylian thinks, fuck Nike.

“If the transfer were to Madrid, I’d invite you out to brunch every other day.”

You laugh, a melodic titter that leaves your throat so freely like angels on their off days. “Used to the Madrid life already, Kylian?”

He blows a breath, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s not France, but I’ll make do.”

“You’ve got to,” you sigh, crossing your legs as you lean your back behind to the bar. “Real Madrid, huh? Viní Jr, Bellingham, Tchouaméni…”

“Kylian Mbappé,” he adds softly, drawing another laugh from you.

“You’ve had a hard season,” you turn to him with a gentle smile, patting his knees—and Kylian stiffens, the contact sharpening the air he was breathing in, but he prays to god that you don’t notice. “I’m happy for you.”

“It’s a new chapter,” he nods, clearing his throat, still facing you. “Funny that fate both brings us to Spain.”

“Should’ve brought me to Madrid, huh?” You joke, “Not sure if you’d settle for any Barcelona clubs.”

Kylian shakes his head. “Real Madrid is more than a dream,” he mutters, “It’s a destination. One I dreamt of since I was a boy.”

Your smile scrutinises him. “Well, Madrid is, what? Two hours away? Three hours?” You take another sip of your drink. “We’ll visit each other.”

“We will,” Kylian agrees. “Leaving Paris, huh?”

For a moment, Kylian raises his eyes and gazes across the crowded room—a kind of revel where everyone knows everyone, and yet no one really knows anyone at the same time. A part of Kylian does not believe in the stars; fate is not written in them, fate is written in what you do.

But tonight, he is feeling romantic.

What is it, but fate, that brings you together?

What is it, but destiny, to have you both be transferred down south?

He has felt this before. The churning feeling in his stomach, reminding him of his adolescent days, holding hands with the victim of his puppy love—the excitement in his veins whenever your name pops out in conversations. Though now, he’s not sure that he is able to declare his love to you like he used to do in school.

Kylian, still, is unapologetically thunderous. His face does not hide his heart, and his heart is definitely plastered on his sleeves. But he has to thread on this gently. You are not vulnerable, by any means, but he fears that the string connecting the two of you is.

“I have to confess,” Kylian has never seen his voice to be this vulnerable, full of hope, full of that certain kind of craving to be also known, not just loved.

You looked tender under the bar’s dim lighting; in your hand is a glass of neat whiskey, room temperature, and you tilt your head as the background voices in the bar loudened, prompting you to glance away from him, leaning in closer to listen in.

He takes in a deep breath—which turns out to be a big mistake, because the scent of your faded perfume mixed with beer that another colleague had spilled on you earlier into the night instantly spun his head around.

“I have to confess,” he repeats, this time a bit more groggily. Kylian gulps in, and you nod to encourage him. “Over the months, I have grown to care for you…”

You lift your head, looking at him with both eyebrows raised, and fear rushes into Kylian. But he charges in, headfirst. He doesn’t hold back. If he sees an opportunity, he would walk straight into it; if he sees an open space between the goalkeeper’s hand and the goalpost, he would kick the ball straight in.

“I’ve grown to care for you,” he repeats again, “And I have grown fond of you.”

He is sure you heard him, despite the loud stereos and conversations around you. He stares deep into your eyes, and fights the overwhelming urge to look away.

“Fond…” You mutter; Kylian watches as you ponder about his choice of word. For a second, your gaze wanders to the bottles of wine lined up neatly stacked on fancy shelves. He watches as you inhale.

“What I’m trying to say is—” When he sees you struggle to come up with a response, Kylian tries to interrupt, but you cut him off.

“What you’re trying to say is,” you straighten your back, placing your drink on the bar, swallowing in your own hesitance it seems, “that you developed an interest in me.”

“Developed an interest?” He chuckles, his shoulders relaxing. “Yeah, I guess you can say that.”

He sees you think and decides to correct himself.

“Well, rather than an interest in you, I would say that I developed an interest in pursuing a relationship with you.”

The business lingo tickles his throat, but all the same, he finds the situation amusing. His heart races under his ribs—he feels them hardening as he waits the eternity you take to gather your thoughts and answer him.

“A relationship where—,” you hesitate, and he sees only now how flustered your expression looks, “—where we act as lovers.”

“Where we become lovers,” he murmurs, agitated, now feeling the youth and naivety crawling up his words. “But that takes time.”

“That does take time,” you whisper.

“I guess,” he begins, “what I’m asking you to do is… give me a try.”

Kylian presses his lips against each other, leaning towards you the way you leaned towards him earlier.

“Us, if that makes it easier. Give us a try.”

You clear your throat, and Kylian does not move from where he was sitting.

“Trying us on,” you mutter over his words, facing your lap.

Kylian inhales. He holds back his tongue.

#໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა : 𝑬𝑼𝑷𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑨 𝑺𝑶𝑳𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑨 #kylian mbappe #mbappe #kylian mbappe x reader #mbappe x reader #real madrid x reader #real madrid fic #real madrid #football #football fic #football x reader #one-shot #kylian mbappé #mbappé x reader

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diorsluv · 7 months

Text

feather , part 34

“ where i’m at ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

hockeynewschannel

liked by yourusername and 123,659 others

newschannel1 rookie nhl player, luke hughes of the new jersey devils, and longtime suspected girlfriend are seen out at the beach spending time together!

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username21 no fucking way they got news channels covering this

username78 LMFAOOO

username45 how the hell do you even????

username90 there’s no way they could tell it was them from the BACK

→ username79 prob just couldn’t snap a pic from the front without getting caught

username46 i genuinely think they could give less shits if they’re seen out together

username84 ppl are forgetting they were friends before they started dating 😭

yourusername oh my god i’m famous 😱

→ username42 LMFAOAOAOAO

→ username71 stirring up the drama i see

→ username99 you’re trolling so hard aren’t you

bardown

liked by yourusername, lhughes_06, and 194,901 others

bardown luke hughes or a dupe?

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username1 BARDOWN??? this has got to be jesse there’s no one else who would cover this

username82 even bardown’s roped into the dryshughes rabbit hole 😭

username72 waiting for the next pod to come out and it’s just then talking about the dryshughes lore for an hour straight

liked by bardown

→ bardown soon!

username24 LMFAO IS THAT THE DRUNK LEAKED PHOTO

username36 i’m sorry they did luke so dirty

→ username34 on par with all the other news reports about him 😔😔

username47 THAT’S MY WIFE she’s so hot

username88 but they’re not even canadian 😭

→ username14 they used to live in toronto idk

username8 next quiz idea: state every event to happen in the dryshughes timeline

liked by bardown

username23 next thing i know i’m prob getting a notif from tsn about this shit

tsn_official

liked by yourusername, lhughes_06, and 200,007 others

tsn_official just spotted luke hughes and his girlfriend getting lovey on the ferris wheel

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username23 i just manifested this wtf

username41 GOOD FUCKING BYE

username60 they can’t even say mother’s name i see how it is 🙄🙄

username79 wtf!

username15 since when did tsn and bardown cover romantic relationships in the nhl 😭

→ username2 since dryshughes.

username58 they can’t catch a break holy

username97 let’s just leave them alone 💀💀

username42 they didn’t even wait for the actual hard launch to happen 😭😭

username76 THEY’RE CUTE TOGETHER WHO IS SHE

lhughes_06 damn i thought we were being lowkey about it

→ yourusername ‼️‼️

→ username84 i’m so confused what’s going on

yourusername

liked by lhughes_06, _quinnhughes, njdevils, and 320,155 others

yourusername we had it coming boys…

look at this fucking dumbass (i love him) he looks so stupid (he’s so cute) and he’s so cheesy (he legitimately makes me swoon) AND IF ANY OF YOU TRY AND SHIT ON OUR RELATIONSHIP i’ll thank you! (I WILL BEAT YOU UP)

thank you for coming to my ted talk

tagged: lhughes_06

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lhughes_06 i hate you more (i love you so much) and you’re my least favorite drysdale (you’ll always be my girl)

→ yourusername this is so gross you made me cry fuck you

→ lhughes_06 i think you forgot to add the parentheses

_quinnhughes only took you a decade!

→ yourusername HEY DON’T CALL US OUT

→ lhughes_06 fr that’s so uncoolio

markestapa OH MY GOD I CALLED IT

→ yourusername called what 🤨

→ markestapa mackie’s dumb ass said luke was gonna hard launch first

→ mackie.samo THEY PRACTICALLY POSTED AT THE SAME TIME

→ markestapa BUT SHE POSTED FIRST

→ mackie.samo BY LIKE 10 FUCKING SECONDS

→ markestapa give me my damn money 🙄

maddysamo does this mean samo time gets cut down even more

→ yourusername unfortunately yes…

→ msamoskevich okay then keep breaking my heart 😔

→ mackie.samo stfu samo time is NOT getting cut down

→ lhughes_06 yes tf it will mackie.samo

→ maddysamo YOU ALREADY SPEND ENOUGH TIME WITH HER AS IT IS

njdevils favorite couple by far!

→ lhughes_06 YEAHHH LETS GO

→ yourusername 🤭

colecaufield you chose the worst possible photos of him

→ yourusername i deadass didn’t have any good pics of him

→ colecaufield go on pinterest???

→ yourusername and search up pics of my own boyfriend?? hell no

_alexturcotte ayeeee there we gooo

→ yourusername you were our #1 supporter from the start 🙈

→ trevorzegras THAT IS A FUCKING LIE AND YOU KNOW IT.

adamfantilli oh look he gave you flowers

→ yourusername he gave me flowers 🥰💐

dylanduke25 mini golf

→ yourusername i destroyed him

→ lhughes_06 you didn’t but i love you so i’ll let it slide yourusername

→ dylanduke25 the balls r really small right

→ yourusername yeah…….

→ dylanduke25 maybe that’s why you were so good at it yk, since you got a lot of experience from lukey boy

→ lhughes_06 DUDE STOP

rutgermcgroarty why was bro recording the helicopter

→ lhughes_06 because i wanted to 😔

→ rutgermcgroarty ur such a weirdo

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lhughes_06

liked by yourusername, trevorzegras, edwards.73, and 345,174 others

lhughes_06 just wanted to say i was fucking struggling to keep us a secret and i love you more than the entire universe

tagged: yourusername

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yourusername WHY’D YOU HAVE TO CHOOSE THE WORST PHOTOS OF MEEE

→ lhughes_06 shush you look beautiful

edwards.73 you were not keeping it a secret bro 💀💀

→ lhughes_06 BECAUSE I WAS STRUGGLING

→ edwards.73 yeah we could tell… 😬

mackie.samo that first pic is photo evidence of you selling on chel

→ lhughes_06 IT WAS LITERALLY YOUR FAULT

→ _quinnhughes i was a witness i can attest to your shit playing

→ lhughes_06 😐

luca.fantilli you let her paint ur nails.

→ lhughes_06 IT’S CLEAR

→ luca.fantilli u were shitting on me for wanting to paint stars on my nails

→ lhughes_06 IT WOULD LOOK BAD ON YOU

→ lhughes_06 AND MINES JUST A TOP COAT

→ luca.fantilli SHUT UP HYPOCRITE

jamie.drysdale yeah yeah you look cute but you better not hurt her or else i will hunt you down and i am a hell of a lot closer to you than i was when i was still with the ducks

→ lhughes_05 yes sir 🫡

→ yourusername the paragraph. the fucking paragraph.

→ jamie.drysdale I’M JUST DEFENDING YOUR HONOR

trevorzegras LETS FUCKING GO???

trevorzegras ROOTING FOR YOU SINCE THE START

→ lhughes_05 we thank you for your service

→ yourusername sure you were z

→ _alexturcotte it was obviously me 🙄

jackhughes i bought you all of those films and they were expensive as hell

→ lhughes_06 so was my tooth when you knocked it out of my mouth when I WAS SIX

→ jackhughes IT WAS GONNA COME OUT ANYWAYS

→ _quinnhughes it was not about to come out 💀

→ yourusername you’re rich stop whining about instax films

njdevils that’s our boy!

liked by lhughes_06

comments on this post have been limited

njdevils

liked by lhughes_06, yourusername, dylanduke25, and 356,924 others

njdevils we support you! (as long as she’s cheering us on when we play the flyers 🤫)

tagged: lhughes_06, yourusername

view all comments

philadelphiaflyers gritty will not be happy to learn that his favorite player’s sister will be cheering for the other team

liked by njdevils

lhughes_06 ❤️

→ yourusername dry ass comment

username3 SCREAMINGGGG

jamie.drysdale hm.

→ lhughes_06 don’t be salty man

→ yourusername frfrrr

username87 MY BABIES

username41 IT FINALLY FUCKING HAPPENEDDDDD

username56 AHHHH

username68 LOOK AT THEM THEY’RE SO CUTE

username25 FUCK YEAH

username76 HARD LAUNCH OF THE CENTURY

yourusername i’ll make a deal 🫣

→ njdevils let’s hear it

→ yourusername whoever’s playing at home is who i’ll cheer for

→ lhughes_06 no

→ jamie.drysdale no

→ njdevils no

→ philadelphiaflyers no

username44 YESSSS

next chapter notes ) HARD LAUNCH OF THE CENTURY?? YES OR YES????? and also i’m so pumped from the stars’ 9-2 thursday win and we finally got our hard launchhhhh

tags: @aliaology @hockeyboysarehot @absolutelyhugh3s @jackquinnswife @freds-slut @love4ldr @blueeyedbesson @43hughes @v1olentdelights @dancerbailey3 @random-human02 @ho3forfakeguys@loveforaugust@cstads-blog@h0e4fictionalme-n

#luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes fic #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes #jack hughes #quinn hughes #alex turcotte #trevor zegras #cole caufield #jamie drysdale #rutger mcgroarty #adam fantilli #luca fantilli #mark estapa #dylan duke #mackie samoskevich #ethan edwards

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madelynraemunson · 1 year

Text

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

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

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

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

* loosely inspired by Sara Cate’s “Salacious Players Club” series

🔥 EXTRA CONTENT HERE 🔥

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

* = somewhat smutty chapters , ** = smut chapters

Summary: 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐓. After getting kicked out by your brother, you have no other choice but to take off your big girl pants and add stripper to your resume. Desperate to pay the bills and support your little sister, are you willing to accept the risks that come with such a perilous profession? With the stage name ‘Shy Girl’, you take the leap of faith, weaponizing your divine femininity to steal the hearts of all the bachelors in Hawkins — including Eddie Munson’s, the owner of Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club.

warnings & disclaimers — slow burn, eventual smut (a lot of it), voyeurism, mutual pining, sexual tension, jealousy, drug/alcohol, profanities, sexual harassment, domestic violence

Welcome to Hellfire.

theme song: meet you in hell by jade lemac “Look me in my eyes. I know that you’re scared. You see yourself and you cry for help. Look me in my eyes. Tell me it’s not fair. If you taught me well, I’ll meet you in hell.”

Chapter 001: Wolves

The Hargroves are cursed. Generationally, that is. One night Billy takes it too far, costing him the only thing he had left... his sisters.

TW — abuse, domestic violence, blood, profanities, implications of infidelity, death

word count: 8.5k words

author's note: there are four different acts to this introductory chapter :) so much foundation to lay down and i spent forever on this to craft it perfectly for you guys. thank you for being as excited about this fanfic as I am releasing it. i hope you all enjoy! -madelyn

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

_______________𓆩♡𓆪_______________

"Once I ran to you. Now I run from you."

♡

Duality of man. Mom was always a firm believer in that notion. In fact, she always used to say, "Inside of you, there are two wolves: a good one and a bad one. Depending on which mouth you feed, one will triumph the other.”

It became more evident when she died.

“YOU FUCKING SLUT. GRAB YOUR SHIT AND GO.”

Once identical in every aspect, the differences between you and your brother slowly began to unravel over time.

Being ‘good wolf’ was impossible while living under the same roof as Billy. So you settled for neutral wolf instead. Meanwhile, the big, bad wolf possessed him at age 15, when he realized hitting your father back would get him to back off.

It was 2010, post-homecoming game.

Dad nearly flung Billy into another dimension when he came home. The preferred alternative would have been attempting to reason with one another, but it just wasn’t something that was normalized in the Hargrove household. Communicating with words was a daunting task; but not nearly as daunting as accountability.

“I’M DONE WITH YOU, BILLY. GRAB YOUR SHIT AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE.”

“I’m a literal minor, you can’t do this, Dad!” Billy wailed. "PLEASE!"

Over a football game.

The Friday Night Lights were a staple of Vista Palms High School. That and all of its nacho-eating, pot-smoking, LMFAO-playing, neon-filled goodness.

"C’mon V-P, c’mon, let’s beat S-D!” For weeks Billy had been chanting that mantra. There was no clearer indication that it’s where he would be the night of the championship game. He didn’t communicate it, of course, but it was implied. But still, it didn’t cross Dad’s mind.

Any parent who thought their child was coming home on time — and sober — that night was a foolish one. Especially if their kid was a sophomore with senior status.

“You sure as hell don't act like one,” Dad spat. “Coming home, acting all grown." Little did Dad know Billy was there for community service. Billy was a good student. More than anything he wanted a full ride to a UC, mainly to get away from home. Either that or military. Maybe then, walking on eggshells and being accused of something he didn't do — like drinking and doing drugs — would be a seasonal occurence instead of daily. "ACTING LIKE YOU PAY THE BILLS. YOU DON'T. YOUR MOM AND I DO.”

Dad knew he hit a nerve. It was his signature move aside from alienating his victims to establish control. While the feeling of getting your wings clipped really did you in, reactive abuse was Billy's top trigger, especially when Mom was mentioned. After all, Billy was the one who found Her.

Through glassy eyes and gritted teeth, Billy closed up his fists before mustering up the courage to say, “I’m…not…calling Sue... the operative word.”

Dad snarled. “Like there’s anyone else physically here you’ve reserved that title for?”

Oh.

"This tainted love you've given-"

Billy took the bait, lunging forward to grab Dad. As if on cue, Dad winded up his arm, assuming his usual position. You managed to assert yourself between in hopes of stopping them. Suddenly the back of Dad's hand collided with your cheek, sprawling you onto the couch. Billy watched horrified while you fought to keep your eyes open, growing anxious when all you could hear was the room pulsating around you at the highest frequency you had ever heard in your 15 long years of life. Enough was enough.

One punch. Bridge of the nose. Game over. The control Dad had over you both had ceased.

Billy rushed to your aid while Dad took a few moments to gather himself. It was then his beat-in, throbbing eyes realized that the little boy he mercilessly pushed around was no longer there. His own little Frankenstein had taken his place.

"I gave you all a boy could give you"

"Oh my god, Sissy," Billy cried, crouching down to run a soothing hand through your hair. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," you sniff, wrapping a hand around his arm. "I'm fine, Billy. I promise."

"I'm not gonna let that son of a bitch hurt you ever again," he vowed. "I'm gonna fuck him up and anyone else who tries."

"I love you, Brother."

"I love you, Sissy." The magnitude of power that surged through Billy melted into every neuron in his body, the warmth of its adrenaline imitating a tender — long overdue — embrace. He became fully enveloped in what was like an electric current, its tide higher than any wave he's ever surfed. It became more exhilarating than cruising down the I-5 in his Camaro at 130 MPH, and more intoxicating than any keg of beer he's ever swigged at a Wanna-be Project X Party.

It was the rush Billy had been searching for his whole life.

Every high Billy ever pursued before that rapidly declined in value. He would trade in anything for the static that had encoded itself into him. He felt untouchable, a luxury your father couldn’t afford his wife and children.

"YOU PUT YOUR HANDS ON HER AGAIN, YOU'RE DEAD DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

From that day forward, feeling respected was a freedom Billy was not willing to sacrifice, ever.

"Take my tears and that's not nearly all-"

But now Billy is the abuser, something you never imagined happening given his innately soft personality.

"Oh, tainted love. Don't touch me! Please.”

Slapping. Biting. Choking each other out. Pulling each other’s hair. Calling each other names. Spitting. Throwing things. Who would’ve thought the Hargrove twins were capable of the same horrors as their parents?

Yesterday was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Billy’s voice, like nails on a chalkboard, clawed at your brain in agonizing intervals.

“That’s all Max is. A pathetic little liar.”

“She will do anything for any bit of attention…even whore herself out to all the men in Del Mar.”

“You can get out. And stay out. Since you wanna act so grown all the damn time.”

He became the very thing — or person rather — he sought to destroy. The very person who indirectly, but explicably killed your mother.

And deep down you feared that if you and your stepsister Max don’t get out of that house, you’d both suffer that same fate.

“It's fucking JULY and 90 degrees out!” your sister retaliated. “What do you want me to wear to the beach? Fucking sweats?"

Max was out with friends the night prior. They hosted a birthday bonfire for her at the beach. She broke curfew and got a ride home from a friend. A guy friend. Billy wasn’t having it.

Max always got the short end of the stick. She was an easy target for Billy’s antics. Being the literal carbon copy of the woman he hates the most didn’t make it any better, and neither did taking the bait whenever Billy dealt it to “keep the peace”. Max believes being and acting helpless would get Billy to back down. It was far from the truth. In reality, she was feeding him his supply.

And what a volatile supply it is.

Mom also had another saying: "Anger is just grief with nowhere to go".

So you watched Billy and Max go back and forth with their pickleball tournament-o-insults, shouting at one another to their lungs’ capacity, their dead, black pupils strangling each other mentally while they gathered the physical strength to do so as well. You kept an arm halfway up and torso slightly turned in case you needed to butt in.

“I do this because I love you, Maxine,” Billy insisted. “So just SHUT UP and stop being a little cunt. Okay?”

“You stop being a presumptuous asshole first,” Max fired back. “We’re fighting again — why? Because someone with a penis drove me home? And we broke curfew by 10 minutes? I don’t control traffi-”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he dismissed her. “Just say you wanted some dick and call it a night.”

Classic slut-shaming, as if Billy’s Instagram following wasn’t all models, strippers, and OnlyFans girls.

Before you could even process what was happening, the blurbs of their argument skidded to a halt when Max finally broke. Billy watched in subtle amusement as she screamed, her fist meeting the wall repeatedly out of frustration.

Reactive abuse is Billy’s favorite abuse tactic.

“Someone who’s not guilty wouldn’t react like this,” Billy quipped in a sing-song voice, eyeing the new hole in the dry wall that Max had created.

There was no sense in backtracking if Billy already got what he wanted. Max just needed the last word. Before any of you could process it, an acrylic storage box soared through the air, hitting Billy right in the groin. He roared in agony while Max attempted to collect herself off to the side. She still saw red.

That’s when the knife came out.

One slice to the brow and it was over. To ensure the last word was his to keep, Billy ended up chucking a knife at your sister.

“OHMYGOD!” Max shrieked repeatedly, entering the ‘freeze’ stage of her shock. “OHMYGOD, OHMYGOD, I’M BLEEDING! I’M BLEEDING, THERE’S BLOOD!”

It was then you realized, the little boy you vowed to protect and refused to leave behind was long gone. Dad’s essence had taken his place now.

“You just don’t know when to FUCKING STOP, do you?” you exclaimed, putting pressure on Max’s eyebrow with a washcloth as she wailed. Suddenly it was Dad you were talking to. They had the same apathetic, dead look in their eyes. “I don’t care who said or did what, throwing a fucking KNIFE?”

“Me?” Billy tutted. “You wanna call me crazy, who did that?” He was referring to the hole in the wall. “And who was the one to throw shit first? EXACTLY. EXACTLY.”

While Billy was technically correct, he would never admit to what he did to provoke you two.

“So you can both get out if you’d like. Be my fucking guests.”

You and Max exchanged one look. The look. It was time. You both were ready and now had the green light. Now was the chance to bolt without immediate consequences.

So you and your sister spent several minutes rummaging through your pre-packed belongings while Billy continued to shit-talk aimlessly around the rental you shared. The place soon reeked of cheap bud and gas station gin. Trash bags were soon filled with your favorite clothes and you shoved them into as many of your childhood suitcases as possible. Struggling to see past your tear-coated eyes, you reached for your books, the ones you've hollowed out 300 pages deep to pocket all the tips from your waitressing job, and shoved the loose bills into your crossbody. You’d sort through them later. Lastly, you popped the cap off the bottom of your salt lamp. There was a pre-paid Visa you bought several months beforehand waiting for you. With trembling hands, you grasped it and whispered a gratitude to the Universe before tucking it neatly into the back pocket of your Levi’s.

When it was all said and done and everything was loaded into your car, you focus on the hole in the dry wall one last time.

Never again.

Billy was complacent throughout the entirety of the event. You glared at him while he continued to soothe himself with drugs and alcohol, refusing to own up to the irreversible damage he caused your little family.

“SIS,” Max boomed from outside. “LET’S GO!”

A part of you used to pity Billy, but now his destructive behavior took away any ounce of guilt you felt for leaving him.

You never fought back until you had no other choice. Similarly, and tragically, Billy shared that very sentiment.

Who the villain is in the narrative relied solely on whose lens you are looking through.

It took you by surprise all the time. How could identical twins, who grew up in the same environment, end up so different from one another?

“I love you, though you hurt me so. Now I’m gonna pack my things and go." - Tainted Love by Soft Cell

There are two wolves inside of everyone.

——————————𓇼——————--------

"Are the pieces of you in the pieces of me? I'm just so scared you're who I'll be. When I erupt just like you do, they look at me like I look at you" - DNA by Lia Marie Johnson

The heart-wrenching ballad by Lia Marie Johnson dissolves as you crank the dial to the left. Music is always depressing when Max has the aux chord.

"Did you hear what I said?" you question her.

Max abruptly sits up and reorients herself, attempting to shrug off the trance “DNA” had put her in for a few minutes.

"No, sorry. What'd you say again?"

"Do you need a bathroom break?"

"I'll go at the airport.”

"Okay, but if you change your mind and decide to take a leak one last time, I'll be happy to oblige.”

Swami’s is also an exit away and you’re just fixing for a hot meal before takeoff. But you don’t directly say that. Besides, Max loses her appetite when she’s upset and may only have room for shitty airplane food.

“I’ll just eat on the plane.”

Stale pretzels and flat soda it is.

Despite the decrease in appetite, Max is holding up well. As well as anyone-who-was-nearly-stabbed-by-her-brother-and-is-now-moving-states-away-from-everything-she’s-ever-known-with-her-sister could be.

It wasn’t your first choice to leave California. In fact, you did everything you could to avoid it. But nonetheless, anyone with a conscious and only $4,000 to their name would make the wise decision to move away to somewhere more affordable.

Enter your online friend, Robin.

Working ungodly hours six days a week to pay the bills took up so much of your time that you had no friends in San Diego — albeit high school friends who would have never guessed how you and Billy turned out. Those friends had happy families anyway. They couldn’t hold space for you. Your online friend Robin, who you met on an art forum, however knew your family dynamic and was there for everything. But she lived in Indiana with her partner and was never able to offer you any physical comfort.

You entertained Robin’s idea of moving to where she lives, a small town in Indiana called Hawkins just 20 minutes southeast of the city. Living under the radar to get your ducks in a row seemed like such a perfect plan, but you didn’t want to do so at the expense of Max losing her only support system she had outside of you.

Moving would’ve also meant pulling her out of school, which wouldn’t be possible because Billy was her legal guardian. Now that she’s graduated high school, and today is her 18th birthday, the game has changed completely.

“Donovan texted me happy birthday,” Max reports, finally disclosing a fragment of her inner conscience. “Thought it was sweet.”

You can’t help but smile. "You thought he wouldn’t?”

She refrains from rolling her eyes and shifts them towards the rocky beach cliffs outside her window.

“You know,” you add. “I really think you two could make long distance work. I’ve never seen so much chemistry between two people before.”

Max scoffs. "Yeah right. Long distance with a guy going to Santa Barbara for college?” She fiddles with the strings of the knit poncho resting atop her lap. “I'd be breaking my own heart."

You bite your lip to stop the waterworks. Max doesn’t deserve any of this. She deserves to enjoy bonfires with her skater friends, surf all the tubular waves, and go on all the nature hikes without worrying about her stepbrother’s codependent-fits-of-rage waiting for her when she comes home. She deserves to eat fried funnel cake at the county fair and share a kiss with the boy of her dreams atop a Ferris wheel on the 4th of July. She deserves a San Diego summer, not a summer spent in hiding from her abuser in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.

Max decides to change the subject.

“So what’s Robin like? Your online friend.”

“She’s very sweet,” you breathe. “Been, uh, telling her about Billy for a long time now. Her arms have been open since day one.”

“And her girlfriend?”

“Vicky’s the best,” you insist. “A match made in heaven for sure. It’s like they’re the same person, just different font.”

You get a giggle out of Max. Her laughter during such a turbulent time is like music to your ears. The non-depressing kind.

“I’m really sorry I couldn’t get you a gift this year.”

She side eyes you.

“What are you talking about? You quite literally gave me the best gift of all.”

“Did I? What did I give you?”

“You gave me safety.”

And with that, you give yourself a mental pat on the back, confident you made the right choice despite how foreign everything currently felt. The conversation dies down while you and Max ride on, driving further and further away from the Park and Ride you spent the night at, off Coast Highway, and onto the I-5 one last time.

Boarding the plane is a swift process. Your plane is a two-seater, so Max gets the window and you get the aisle. After receiving your snacks and drinks, you decide to play white noise and dissociate for the next five hours. It’s safe to do so, anyways. Liminal spaces were not something you took for granted.

Meanwhile, Max looks out the window, watching as the world she has come to know her whole life shrinks right before her eyes, before disappearing underneath a quilt of soft white cumulus clouds.

“This is 18.”

Goodbye, San Diego.

—————— ✈︎ ———————

Hello, Hawkins.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Robin incites, trudging through the miscellaneous projects that sit at her feet. “As if we weren’t DIY freaks enough, the pandemic really just amplified that.”

The pandemic was a hard time for everyone. You lost your fine dining gig and abruptly switched to UberEats to adjust to the flow of takeout. Billy couldn’t go to the gym, his happy place, and it took a toll on him mentally. Max broke quarantine multiple times to see Donovan, which didn’t sit well with your brother. He of course lashed out on her and also proclaimed that people like her were the reason why America hadn’t opened up yet.

“And I get no time at the gym!” Billy screamed. “So now I have to do this—”

You learned that a decent lamp costed $70 that night.

That wasn’t your first rodeo though. You and Billy grew up replacing furniture all the time. You two would gather up your money and spend it on replacing whatever needed replacing for Mom’s birthday. She always wanted to make your house feel like a home. Feel lived in. You and Billy thought you were heroes doing it, but it dawns on you now that you two were just babies.

“Oh!” Vicky interrupts. “Before we forget…”

You and Max watch her as she scrambles around, looking for something that she seemed ecstatic about.

“Happy birthday, Max!”

“No way, Kate Bush!” Max exclaims as she accepts the gift, an original Kate Bush vinyl record of her album Hounds of Love.

"Wow," you beam, rubbing your sister’s back. “Way to fuel her 80's hyperfixation, huh?"

“We found this at the thrift store,” Vicky boasted. “Knew we had to get it for ya.”

“It’s the real deal too," Robin adds. "Look, printed 1985.”

“It’s perfect,” Max gushes. “Can’t wait to play it on my Crosley.”

She thanks them both and hugs them before running back to the living room to get the rest of your belongings. You listen as she hums some of Kate Bush’s discography along the way.

You then observe Max as she unpacks her things one by one, slightly peppered with remnants of the California sand and the snobby fee it took to ship it all here via cargo. She then proceeds to sit on the new bed to check the springing quality, testing its bounce factor and comparing it to that of her old bed.

You let out a bittersweet sigh.

Suddenly you're eight years old, doing the same thing at the local motel Mom managed to snag a couple nights from when Dad trashed the house.

You turn to look in the mirror atop your new dresser.

Suddenly, you're Mom. Quite literally. You both have the same wavy blonde hair, scattered freckles across your nose that Billy used to call “stardust”, and the same tsunami blue eyes. It makes it no wonder why you and Dad never got along. You are Mom’s spitting image — and Billy is Dad’s.

Funny how life turns out.

You graze the crows feet at the outer corner of your eyes, realizing now how many years have silently passed you by, and then take note of the stress-defined scars in the form of eye baggage from all the sleepless nights that came as a souvenir.

You’ve put up with so much. For so long. The trauma is starting to manifest itself physically.

Robin snaps you back into present day. "So I was thinking we go to Applebee's for dinner, walk around Old Town, get you guys settled and unpacked when we return, Jenga at night, and then-"

She stops when she sees the horrified expression on your face.

“Hey…” the pitch in her comforting, raspy voice heightens. “What’s the matter?”

Your voice breaks. “It’s…” you manage. “It’s been a lot.”

Robin pats your back. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

Without looking, Robin snags a few tissues from a box laying around and gives them to you. You blot the tears away, careful not to mess up the makeup you had on with the intention to make you look less…dead.

“Sue didn’t even call and wish her happy birthday. Her own mother.”

“I’m so sorry,” Robin repeats.

“Every day I watch Max store her trauma in the box... and just shove it into the corner where it gathers dust,” you continue. “If she doesn't unpack it..."

You didn’t even want to think of the collateral damage you and your brother caused her. A part of you wants to think Maxine has remained untouched from that side of you, but the dry blood on her outer brow was a reminder that it was far too late to shelter her from that.

"You see yourself in her."

"And my mom in myself,” you admit. “Now more than ever.”

You rub your eyes.

“I’m rambling, I know. It’s just… SO aggravating. Max deserves better.”

“She’s handling it really well.”

“We don’t know that. I know Max. She’s a pro at hiding her feelings.”

“She’s being strong for you, like you are for her. It’s very endearing, whether you both admit it to each other or not.”

She rubs your arm.

“For as long as Vicky and I are here, you and Maxine have a soft place to land. We are here for you. Y’all are safe.”

You two glance over at Max, who is now unpacking your Zen Basics Himalayan salt lamp. She sets it on top your new bedside table, a reupholstered one whose old wood was painted over by an earthy olive green, the old hardware replaced by eccentric shaped, neutral-toned knobs. Her Crosley sits on your floor, now playing a track off Kate Bush's vinyl while she stares out the window. Your new view for the foreseeable future.

Can't you see where memories are kept bright?

Tripping on the water like a laughing girl

Time in her eyes is spawning past life

One with the ocean and the woman unfurled

Holding all the love that waits for you here

Catch us now for I am your future

A kiss on the wind and we'll make the land.

Dinnertime comes fast, but you blame it on the time zone difference. You call shotgun and ride with Robin in the passenger seat, catching up with your best friend while Vicky and Max watch YouTube shorts in the backseat.

Robin gives you a backstory of everything you pass on the way to Applebees, from the schools to churches to family-owned gas stations. She and Vicky seem to know everyone by a first-name basis, naming random people off and knowing exactly who that is every so often. You try to stay engaged, but the only thing on your mind is where you’re going to apply for a job.

Robin drives into a plaza next.

"This used to be a mall, but now it's completely empty," Robin continues pointing to an empty building with remnants of a star symbol etched on it. "E-commerce really turned this strip into a ghost town."

"So basically, if I wanted a job, it would have to be any of these food places, an office of sorts, or an off-brand Blockbuster store?"

"Family Video is closing too," Vicky chimes in. "It's sad. But I guess Hawkins needs yet another overpriced coffee shop."

"You could always work at the gentlemen's club," Max jokes, pointing off to the side.

You turn to where she’s pointing and take note of the matte black rectangular building by the Sizzler’s. It didn’t seem out of place, but the silhouette of an exotic dancer with devil horns gave the sinister establishment away. You couldn’t read the name of the club, but a part of you tries to.

Robin slightly turns and nods in that direction. "Oh yeah. I heard the girls there make bank in tips."

“I made bank in La Jolla doing fine dining,” you point out. “Maybe I can do the same thing here. But at a similar establishment.”

“Fanciest restaurant you’ll get here is Benny’s,” Vicky says. “You’re gonna have to go to the city for fine dining. I don’t think the commute is worth.”

“Guess stripper is your best option,” Max nudges you.

You shoot a glare her way. “Very funny.”

"I know, I was joking," she scoffs. "Billy would kill you anyways."

Billy would literally go insane if you dared to work at a strip club. The slut-shaming would never end. Not that he never slut-shamed you anyway. There was always something for him to be misogynistic and hypocritical about.

Then it hits you. Billy isn't here. And you really need the money since in this day and age, $4,000 meant nothing. You peer over at the gentlemen's club one last time as it shrinks out of view the further Robin drives.

HELLFIRE.

-----------𓆩♡𓆪------------

Dungeons & Dragons.

Of course one of the very few strip clubs in Hawkins has to be the dorkiest.

But you understand the vision. Beyond the cobblestone entrance, the veil between real life and fantasy thins.

As you near the club with nothing but a purse and car keys in hand, you notice that there’s already security by the door. You’re surprised to see a leaner guy, tall and slender with soft blonde hair and a soft grin to match. He catches sight of you and greets you with a nod.

“Good afternoon,” he says. “How are you today?”

“I’m good,” you nod. You reach for your wallet and give him your ID. Typical screening process. “Yourself?”

“Not too shabby,” he replies.

He examines your ID card. You notice his surprise when his eyes slightly widen before retracting shortly after. You guess that he was wondering why you are here out of all places. You peer over at his name tag while he concludes his screening. Henry.

Upon verification of your identity, the friendly security guard returns your card to you.

“Let me give you a wrist band.”

He motions for you to hold an arm out. You extend your right arm to him and watch as he gracefully pulls a paper wristband out of his pocket, clasping it into place with the side that read “21+” facing upwards.

You take the time to admire the gentleness of this man. The softness of his face. His dreamy gaze.

“Any weapons on you?”

“Uh…” you stammer. “Just pepper spray?”

A laugh escapes from his nostrils. “That’s fine, my dear.”

“I hope I don’t have to use it.”

“Don’t worry, darling. Under my watch, you won’t.”

Henry gently strokes your hand before motioning you inside.

“Enjoy the show.”

“Thanks,” you smile politely.

It’s a slow afternoon, but granted no one goes to a strip club at 2 PM. The Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club was comprehensively laced with playful innuendos. The accent wall by the entrance showcases an array of chains and handcuffs. Kukris, nun-chucks, and flails all of different variants and sizes are displayed on the walls, the point of balance being a vintage pulp print of a metal puppeteer. On the print, "OBEY YOUR MASTER" is written in edgy bubble letters.

Kinky.

And there’s a bonus of this themed club: the ladies are dressed in cloaks. You watch as beautiful women from all walks of life strut around the joint, leaving the clients with only their imagination to guess what’s underneath the tantalizing, medieval velvet.

There are LED signs that lit up corners of the space, indicating what they were for. KAS’ KORNER: GRAB A BITE, DRAGON'S BREATH: HOOKAH LOUNGE, and POTIONS — the bar.

You catch a glimpse of the private show rooms, or at least what you think are the private show rooms.

The LED sign to those rooms read, "I PUT A SPELL ON YOU AND NOW YOU'RE MINE."

The general seating area for the main event reads VECNA’S LAIR.

The Dungeon Master of this joint thought of every possible detail he could and ironed it into perfection.

Surely, someone who truly plays would adore every aspect of all the details, but it was evident that everyone came here for the same reason:

Girls, girls, girls.

You walk over to the bar to see two men conversing behind it.

One looked to be in his late 20s, with scruffy chestnut brown hair, some tired eyes, peach fuzz, and a patterned shirt decorated in a kaleidoscope of colors — a shirt meticulously calculated by quite possibly a girlfriend.

The other looked like he had another year left before being allowed to be behind that counter... of course judging by the “Hawkins High School class of 2021” on his insulated water bottle in his hand, a cracked iPhone in the other, and Beats with a small basketball sticker on it.

When you appear in their periphery, the conversation between the two gradually comes to a stop.

“Whoa,” the younger man hums. “New face. Welcome.”

“Hi. What do you recommend?”

“In terms of what?” the younger man questions slyly. There’s a timidness to the young man’s spirit, making his flirtatious demeanor somewhat dorky. The age appropriate bartender nudges him.

“Drinks, hotshot,” you refrain from chuckling. “Drinks.”

“Depends what you’re into,” the younger man replies, the slyness continuing. “If you’re into light liquors, Jonathan can make you a mean Cîroc with pineapple juice. But if you’re more into the dark stuff…”

He gestures up and down on himself.

“Then look no further.”

“That was very painful to listen to,” the older one who you assume is Jonathan cringes. “Can you get anymore corny?”

“Ta-ha!” the younger one tsks. “He said could I get any more corny. Can you get any more bitchless?”

“I have a girlfriend, Lucas.”

“Emphasis on the singular sense.”

“Nance is all I need.”

"Nancy is all you can pull," Lucas chuckles. "With that goofy ass shirt, man. Stop playing with me."

So you weren’t the only one who thought the shirt was absolutely ridiculous. It had "Bad Bitch Repellant" written all over it.

Jonathan whacks Lucas with the cloth that was sitting atop his shoulder. You request a double Tito’s straight on the rocks from Jonathan to which he automatically starts to make. Lucas continues to interrogate you.

“As you heard, my name is Lucas. Lucas Sinclair.” He extends his hands to you. “But my favorite ladies call me 'Dark Chocolate'. You can call me, 'The Man of Your Dreams' though.”

You take the youngster’s hand in yours and shake it. His heavy locker room cologne makes your nose swell, an uneven mix of what you believe is Axe and — is that Dior?

You tell Lucas your name then hit him with a, “But you can call me ‘When You’re Thirty’.”

Lucas laughs at your joke, beaming up at you as he does so. Then he nods to communicate a gracious fair enough. The flirting, you could sense, was in good nature, playful.

“It was worth a shot,” he shrugs. “Do you have a younger sister by any chance?”

“Oh in your dreams, mister.”

Jonathan chuckles and rubs Lucas’s back.

"That’s enough man, can you go buss that table over there?"

Lucas gives a thumbs up before putting his Beats on and walking away. You divert your attention back to Jonathan who is now done with making your drink.

“Alright… I got a Tito’s double shot — straight — on the rocks,” Jonathan announces as he slides your vice on over. He studies you as you take the drink and request to keep the tab open. “I’m inclined to ask. Are you okay?”

When you’re not around Billy, you wear your heart on your sleeve. It wouldn’t hurt to trauma dump on a stranger. Especially one who asked.

“Pretty far from okay,” you answer before chugging it. “Can’t you tell? It’s 2PM and I’m consoling…” You slosh the drink around in your hand. “…my man Tito.”

“I see that.”

“It’s been a long day,” you continue. “It’s my second day in Hawkins so I thought I’d scope this place out. Dilly dally for a bit.”

“Second day?” Jonathan questions. “As in…ever?”

“Yeah, just moved here.”

The bartender looks around as if he’s missed something. “But…why?”

It’s a fair reaction. If the welcome sign is correct, Hawkins only has a population of 1,314 people. 1,316 now including you and Maxine.

“My friend lives here and convinced me to make the move,” is what you explain, though it only seems to make Jonathan more confused. “Couldn’t take the heat Cali was dishing out. Hawkins seemed like the perfect place to slow down.”

“Oh man,” Jonathan mutters. “California to here, what a change.”

“You lived here long?”

“Lived here my whole life,” he answers as a matter of factly.

“What made you get a job at Hellfire?”

Jonathan didn’t have to think. “I love booze.”

You laugh together, raising your half-empty class to clink his invisible one.

“I hate 9-5s,” Jonathan draws on. “Working from home ‘bout damn near drove me insane, don’t know how my mom does it with such ease. My boss here smokes me out on occasion and my friends make me nachos.” He smiles. “Can’t think of anything better.”

“There we go.”

"I’ve also just been looking out for women my whole life," he adds. "Bout time I get some financial compensation for it, no?"

“Amen to that,” You chug the last of your drink. “Thanks for your service.”

"Pleasure is mine. Anything else I can do for ya?"

You think. "Hm, probably not you, but maybe the hiring manager can do something for me."

"You're looking to work here?" he clarifies as you nod. "Oh sweet, you're going to wanna talk to Eddie. He's the owner."

"And a dweeb," says a significantly younger looking fellow as he slides into the conversation.

“Here we go.”

In front of you now is a gentleman around Lucas’s age with wild curly brown hair. You watch as he helps himself to a club soda, dunking three large wedges of lemon into his cup as well.

The guy offers you a playful, pearly white grin. “Eddie may own a nice club with some smokin' hot babes, but he's got no game whatsoever."

“Hey Dustin.”

“Sup, man.”

“You think so?" you challenge him.

"I know so,” the boy who you now know as Dustin insists. “Can't talk up a chick to save his life."

"Yeah," Jonathan says, half-jokingly. "He's the bitchless one."

Dustin glances between you both, slightly puzzled.

You shake your head. "No way."

"I wouldn't say he's that bad," Dustin says. "I actually think he's seeing someone casually. But in general, dude's got zero rizz."

"Projecting are we?" Jonathan nudges him.

“HELL. NO.” Dustin booms. You attempt to refrain from laughing. “My game is what got me the baddest gal at science camp. Eddie? Clumsy as hell, stutters on his words, he's got the anxiety level of someone who drinks cold brew on an empty stomach… Now that I say it out loud, I think he does drink cold brew on an empty stomach. Some chicks dig it though, which is good for him.”

Curly was fun to observe. Once he’s done talking down on the club owner, Dustin politely walks over and shakes your hand, bowing to you like you’re a princess of sorts. You later find it that like Lucas, Dustin works as a bus boy and server, and his girlfriend makes sure that he remains in Kas’ Korner at all times. Dustin has about two years left before legally being permitted behind the POTIONS bar, but that doesn’t stop him from using it as his own storage shed.

You watch as he grabs some deodorant and hair pomade from an old shoe box under the counter.

“Anyways, later,” Dustin holds up a peace sign, starting towards the door. “I'm not on today, I'm just hitting the gym with Steve."

“Later, man!” Jonathan calls after him.

“Deuces. Say hello to Dark Chocolate for me.”

Before he could get any further, the loud swinging of a door closeby causes him to halt in place.

“ALRIGHT!” a loud, gruff voice booms from that direction. “Which one of you shitheads forgot to take inventory on the 10th?!”

You can’t help but turn your body towards the ruckus. And to your own pleasant surprise, you don’t regret it. Emerging from the door comes the possible shift lead, a tall and broad man with medium length wavy brown hair, chocolate-colored, youthful doe eyes that contradicted the deep lines on his face, bleach white Chuck Taylor’s, ripped black jeans, and a Hellfire Club baseball tee with the logo smack-dab in the middle.

The man looked to be in his mid to late 20s, with an assertiveness in his stride. His lips, a perfectly formed bow with a smirk-like undertone. The cool rings that rest upon his fingers look icy as they sway at his side, shining in contrast to his dark clothing.

The man is too tunnel-visioned to see where he was going. But that doesn’t stop Dustin from looking absolutely mortified.

“The 10th and the 11th,” the man clarifies. “So for all we know, we might need new kegs and ground chili, which is one more thing I have to d-”

Finally he looks up, with you being the first thing he sees. Proximity taking him aback, he snaps out of his stress-induced trance and softens up at the sight of you. You meet his eyes, big and beautiful with long wispy lashes and you can’t help but mimic the flutter in your heart in the form of a smile.

“Whoa.” He says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Whoa, indeed.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s Eddie’s first day back, he tends to get a little in the zone,” Dustin explains.

Eddie.

Does that mean…

“Are you the hiring manager?”

You didn’t know who you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the man in front of you. He must be proud of himself, having such a successful business so early in the game.

Eddie gathers himself quickly.

“Dungeon Master, hiring manager, manager, owner, sanitations, re-stocker,” Mr. Jack-of-all-trades confirms. “I do it all.” He grimaces at Dustin. "Since you know, some people don't wanna work."

"You said I can have off!" Dustin exclaims defensively. "I worked for you before the weekend already and I wasn’t even on the 10th and 11th, fuck outta here."

All it takes is a scowl his way from the boss and Dustin is radio silent. The look on Eddie's face definitely said "Watch your tone". Eyes are all on you once more soon after.

Eddie’s gaze softens when he looks at you.

“Were you…looking to apply?”

“Yeah,” you reply sheepishly. “As a dancer. I’d like to perform here.”

“You don’t sound too confident.”

“Some guys like shy girls,” you shrug.

He laughs, a dark honey kind of laugh that just oozed from the back of his throat. “That they do.” His voice deepens drastically. Eddie studies you. “Any dancing experience?”

“Dancing, yes.”

“Stripping experience?”

“None.”

“Hm,” Eddie says. “What do you have experience in?”

“I danced for a bit…I have good core strength,” you explain vaguely. “And I’ve worked in the restaurant industry so I’d say customer service is my superpower.”

Eddie soaks in the information.

“I know how to talk to people,” you continue. “I know the right things to say. Favorite pass time is upselling drinks. And dessert…”

You wait for Eddie to take the low hanging fruit. He doesn’t.

"Any experience with the pole?”

Your cheeks grow hot. You decide to lie.

"No.”

“Kinda essential for this profession, sweetheart.”

"I know," you respond humbly. "I wouldn’t doubt it for a second..." you scan the room. “So uh, do I need a permit to perform here?”

“Nah, Hawkins is a lawless wasteland pretty much,” he sighs placing his hands on his hips. “And my club does things a little different anyways. The ladies also don’t pay to perform, we pay them to.”

Shit. Strippers pay to perform at venues?

“The dining experience is what brings the base revenue in,” Lucas explains, returning from wherever he had been. “The ladies are a luxury.”

“And should be treated as such,” Jonathan chimes in.

“I take it you don’t work at any other clubs?” Eddie questions judging by your wide eyes attempting to take in every bit of information that has been dumped on you. The man sees right through your mask.

“No, but I-”

“I personally like to give everyone a chance,” Eddie says. “So don’t worry babe, you’re good. Even though you don’t have any experience, your energy tells me that you have potential. Wanna show us what you can do?”

Your heart sinks. The handsome club owner called you babe. And you’re also being asked to perform with the little experience you have — in front of girls who had tons of experience.

“Here? Now?”

Eddie nods.

You weren’t prepared to dance today. But with your sister and the mountain of debt on your mind, you are willing to do anything. So you walk over to Jonathan and tell him what song you feel most comfortable performing to and stretch as he takes the time to find it. When all is said and done, you make your way to the icy pillar made of chrome steel that was calling for your attention.

You exhale deeply.

Back to the old stomping grounds. The last time you worked with a pole you were wearing Heeley’s and light up sneakers. Of course in place of the horny spectators there were playground supervisors, and the only “bars” there were monkey bars. Oh, and you were 8, not 28.

The slut-shaming still existed, though. One time a boy told you that you were acting like a ‘hoe’ for trying to do a trick upside down. To Billy’s retaliation though. Before you knew it, the same boy was being shoved down and dragged across the wood chips, acquiring a series of splinters along the way. Admin phoned home. You and Billy got spanked. But, of course, Billy had no regrets. While you both cooled off together, you remember him grazing your hand, telling you he’d beat that kid up “a gajillion times over”.

He kept that promise. Except as you two grew older, it was you he was doing it to. A gajillion times over.

You laugh at the bittersweet nostalgia.

“Whenever you’re ready, babe,” Eddie says.

You give Jonathan a thumbs up to play your song selection. Soon, Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club is filled with the catchy, seductive tune that is Layla by Eric Clapton.

You start with a small stroll around the pole. Then a dramatic dip to flaunt your bouncy golden locks. Soon, the women of Hellfire gather around with the men following soon after to watch you work your magic in Vecna’s crowded Lair.

If muscle memory is in your favor, they are in for a good show.

What will you do when you get lonely

No one waiting by your side?

You've been running, hiding much too long

You know it's just your foolish pride

Eddie claims a seat at a throne directly in front of the pole. He studies your technique, your movements, your facial expressions. You aren’t sure if reality is projecting onto you or if you’re dizzy from all the spinning, but you almost see a slight smile spread across the club owner’s face. It prompts you to keep going.

Layla, got me on my knees

Layla, begging, darling, please Layla

Darling, won't you ease my worried mind?

It’s a lot harder, your techniques and tricks. Most likely since you weigh more than 50 pounds now and had to exert more energy to keep yourself balanced an aligned. But nonetheless, you persist.

Tried to give you consolation

Your old man had let you down

Like a fool, I fell in love with you

You turned my whole world upside down

You buck your hips upward from you back arch to go into an upside down position. It earns you some hooting and cheering from the crowd.

“You better work, mamas!” a dancer cheers.

“I KNOW THAT’S RIGHT!”

“YOU GO GIRL!”

“YAAAS!”

Layla, got me on my knees

Layla, I'm begging, darling, please Layla

Darling, won't you ease my worried mind?

Eddie watches intently, leaning backwards with his hands clasped forward. You feel his eyes burn through you, from the top of your head down to your toes. You feel as if he’s mentally scoring you like you’re at a competition, but the sisterhood that cheers you on makes you feel slightly less intimidated.

“SHE’S SO GOOD!” comes a high-pitched voice in the crowd. “I FREAKING LOVE HER!”

You turn to look at your own personal cheerleader, a bright-eyed cute little redhead with pigtails with an outfit that looks like an ode to Britney Spears’ “Hit Me Baby One More Time”. She has cherry hair ties that hold her two pigtails at the bottom.

You watch her clap and jump up and down, cheering you on with a beam in her eyes that made you feel like your souls have been friends for decades.

Motivated to attempt more risqué moves, you jump into the splits before kicking your legs around to end on your knees.

Clapping and whistling erupts from the lair. Once it dies down, Eddie stands up, offering you a delighted series of slow claps as he makes his way towards you.

"That was really good, Shy Girl. I like how you finished your set."

“Aw, thanks Eddie.”

He walks around you.

"Go like this?" Eddie does a stretching motion, lifting his hand up.

You imitate him and reach up.

"Okay, and... turn like this? Then pop your ass out a bit more."

The word rolled off the club owner's tongue like it was nothing. It was done in a way that was professional, a hint of respect in his tone with no sort of ulterior motive.

You swallow hard, attempting to internally tame the goosebumps on rising upon your skin. He’s just giving feedback, he’s just giving feedback. This is a professional line of work.

You do as he says as he circles around you, fingers grazing on the cool floor of the stage just inches away from your thighs. He taps them in thought.

"For a beginner you’re pretty damn good,” he says.

“Yeah?” you look up at him and smile.

“Yeah,” his voice deepens. “You’re a natural. All that shyness just went away.”

Well, it’s about to return, you think to yourself.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

“Not in this specific setting.”

There’s a slight shift in his eyes as his imagination wanders. The dimples at the side of his mouth concave slightly.

“I gotcha.”

Eddie clears his throat. “So uh, when can you start?”

Today is Wednesday. You have tomorrow, Friday, and the weekend to settle you and Max in and make any last minute stops. Then the appointment with the other loan officer and DMV appointment on Monday. Tuesday afternoons are dry — everywhere so that left the earliest you can start as

"Next Tuesday? In the evening?"

A soft snort escapes from the club owner’s nose.

"Driest night of the week," he comments, looking around his club.

He turns back to you.

"But a good time for orientation. Works for me, Shy Girl. Can I call you that?”

You smirk. “So I got the job?”

He nods.

“Then you can call me what you want,” you smile shaking his hand. “In this case I’m Shy Girl Hargrove.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiles. He knows you’re flirting. Eddie accepts your hand and shakes it firmly.

“Eddie. Pleased to formally meet you. And welcome to Hellfire.”

You two exchange contact information for professional purposes before he leaves. You study Eddie as he sees himself out, planting a firm, teasing smack on Lucas’s stomach on his way and whispering something to Jonathan as well.

Your cheerleader from the crowd excitedly makes her way over.

“I know a dancer slash gymnast when I see one,” she chirps. “I’m Chrissy. Stage name is Cherry.”

You two shake hands and exchange further compliments with one another. Your heart swells when you realize you’re slowly starting to find community.

“It’s so nice to meet you.”

Others come and say hello, but you’ve tuned out all the faces because all you can think about is Eddie. His demeanor. The way he carries himself. His presence alone was something so intoxicating that it lingered around the place in his absence.

Your heart flutters.

“Oh, Hargrove!” Jonathan says. “Before you go I just wanted you to know that you don’t have to worry about the drink.”

“Oh?” you respond. “No?”

“Eddie says it’s on the house.”

You smile and Jonathan returns the favor, making sure you see him when he voids your entire tab. As you wave bye to all your spectators, you release a grateful sigh. You felt very humbled about this new, yet unexpected beginning.

The happiness soon wears off when the events that just unfolded dawn on you. Suddenly, the flutter in your heart moves to your stomach, settling in a way that feels eerie. The unknown is pestering you again. Wrong, but oh so right and necessary.

You take in the area around you. You have a place to call home. You’re a stripper now. Your boss just bought your drink. You’re going to have money coming in. Oh, and YOU’RE A STRIPPER NOW.

Then it dawns on you. You need to go shopping.

#Spotify #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things 5 #hellfire club #Eddie munson fan fiction #Eddie munson fics

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blythsholland · 7 months

Text

No More Secrets! - Part 5

Pairing: Tom Blyth x Actress!Fem!reader

Warnings: None.

Summary: You join the cast of TBOSAS, sparks fly between you and Tom, and fans are quick to notice some things.

AN: And here is the final part of No More Secrets! Thank you immensely for the support in this. I truly appreciate it and it means a lot to me 🤍 To read the previous parts and my other works, you can check my masterlist here! Happy Valentines Day 💗

(For the sake of this last chapter, let’s pretend Tom is promoting the full second season of Billy The Kid. )

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

blythupdates & youruserupdates posted a photo

liked by blythloverrrr, youruser, tomblyth, user and others.

tagged tomblyth, youruser

blythupdates This account and @ youruserupdates account wanted to say that in result of the current events, we won’t post those pics of them to respect their privacy. Remember to leave them alone and to give them time. They’ll confirm their relationship when they feel comfortable to do so. We are their fans and we should all respect them.

Comments on this post are limited.

tomblyth Thank you. It really means a lot to us.

comment liked by author.

youruser Thank you. 🤍

comment liked by author.

user They replied, I hope they’re both okay.🥺

*Few weeks later*

tomblyth added to their story.

*Press Tour*

e!news

liked by deuxmoi, blythfanz, blythupdates, youruser and others.

e!news Tom gushes about his relationship with actress @ youruser during press for his new show. More of the story in the link in our bio! (📸 Getty).

View all 500 comments.

user What’s the name of the show he’s promoting?

↪️ user73 Billy the Kid! Season 2 is releasing next week!

blythfanz This is such a clickbait post. If you really saw that interview you know what he exactly said.

↪️ userfan what did he say?

user1 Can someone briefly say what he said. I can’t see the interview right now.

blythfanz For everyone asking. The interviewer asked what’s something that you like to keep to yourself as much as possible and he responded by saying privacy. I’ll add the quote.

↪️ blythfanz “Privacy for sure. We are in an industry where your personal life can be invaded by so little. One glimpse and privacy is out of the question and everyone wants to know your business. ‘What does your family do?’, ‘Where do you live?’, ‘Are you seeing anyone?’ And that’s why I like to keep my personal life as private as possible.” +

↪️ blythfanz “There’s always going to be that factor where paparazzi take pics whenever you are, invading your personal space, and then we have the tabloids making headlines just to get more people invested and it’s all a mess.” +

↪️ blythfanz “When it comes to dating, the only thing you will know from me is that yes, I am in a relationship and that’s it… I’m in a beautiful relationship with the most amazing and wonderful person I know but you won’t see me or us give details about it because to us that’s our most sacred thing and we want to keep it private and to ourselves. Maybe you would see a pic here and there shared by us because we want to, but other than that, what goes in our relationship is our business only, no one else’s.”

user1 @ blythfanz Thank you so much! The way he said everything so perfectly. Respect their privacy people!!

youruserlovers @ youruser liked this 🥺 Tom Blyth, the man that you are!!

user My respect for Tom went higher. That’s a man!

tomblyth posted a photo.

liked by youruser, rachelzegler, hunterschafer, blythupdates and others.

tomblyth Incredibly proud of this season. Make sure you watch Billy The Kid season 2, now streaming on MGM+. 🤠🐎

View all 2,346K comments.

youruser So so proud of you, my love! 🤍 Gonna definitely binge watch.

comment liked by tomblyth.

↪️ tomblyth ❤️ I’ll go get the snacks!

↪️ blythloverrrr awwww 🥺

rachelzegler YESSSS LET’S GO!

lionsgate If Coriolanus Snow was in an alternate universe!

↪️ user95 bestieee what are you doing here???

blythupdates Finally! 🤩

blythfanz Save a horse, ride a what???

↪️ youruser a cowboy 🤠

↪️ rachelzegler @ youruser NOW GIRL.

↪️ blythyouruserlovers SO REAL!

joshandresrivera That cowboy got me feeling some type of way 😍

↪️ youruser @ rachelzegler come get your man!

youruser added to their story.

*Few Weeks Later*

youruser posted a photo.

liked by tomblyth, rachelzegler, zendaya, hunterschafer and others.

tagged: tomblyth

youruser Happy Anniversary to the one that makes me the happiest. Life is better with you in it. I love you more than words can describe 🤍🤍🤍 @ tomblyth

View al 4,765K comments.

tomblyth I'm so deeply in love with you. I love you. ❤️

↪️ youruser 🥹❤️

↪️ blythyouruserlovers I’m not crying my eyes are just sweaty.

userfan IM GOING INSANE

↪️ user83 OKAY BUT THE 6th PIC?? HELLO?? THEY ARE INSANE.!!!

user THE PICTURES 🥺

rachelzegler MY LOVES 🥺

rachelzegler the way I witness you both fall in love in-front of my eyes. I’m emotional 😭💗

youruserlovers our girl is in love you guys 🥹🥹🥹

blythupdates Happy Anniversary! 💗💗💗

blythloverrrr TAKE IT DELUSIONAL PEOPLE! I know the antis are screaming and crying somewhere.

tomblyth posted a photo.

liked by youruser, hunterschafer, rachelzegler, joshandresrivera and others.

tagged: youruser

tomblyth One year with you and to many more. Happy Anniversary, my love. I’m deeply in love with you and I won’t stop saying it. I love you. ❤️ @ youruser

View all 3,458K comments.

youruser How many times you’re going to make me cry today?? 😭 i LOVE you so so so much 🥹🩷🩷

comment liked by tomblyth

↪️ tomblyth i LOVE you.❤️

↪️ joshandresrivera Damn you are both cheesy.

↪️ tomblyth @ joshandresrivera you’re one to talk!

↪️ youruser @ rachelzegler come get your man… again.

↪️ rachelzegler @ joshandresrivera but babe YOU ARE cheesy, so idk what you’re talking about.

blythfanz The pictures, the third and the fourth one 😭😭😭

user can I join the relationship?

userfan con😭gra😭tu😭la😭tions😭

blythloverrrr the pic with the cowboy hats 🥺

hunterschafer CUTIES. I love you guys 🩷🩷🩷

rachelzegler I’m not crying, my eyes are just sweating I swear!!!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The End!

Again, thank you so much for all the support on this! I really really appreciate it 🤍

tags: @coconut-dreamz @bobgirllll @that-one-little-soybean @duckyyyx @spencerstits @kuromismom7

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x fem!reader #tom blyth x actress!reader #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth fic #tom blyth x you

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siconetribal · 1 month

Text

Beyond the Bookshelves (8)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Friendly banter, overworking

Summary: You’re a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You’ve been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N:

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know! (If I missed any tags, please let me know, I’ll add you right away!) I’d also greatly appreciate it if rebloggers remember to add the tags (or some at least).

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

“You have it?” Loki raised a brow at this, pulling out his phone to see her full name and some extra information about her that Steve had stored on his phone. The sight of it only made his mood even more sour as he shoved the device back into the pocket it came from after saving it. “Quite a bit of information you have saved on here.”

“Yeah? It’s stuff I picked up on overtime.” The innocent, casual shrug of his shoulders held arrogance in the eyes of the God of Mischief. A smug punctuation of how the star-studded super soldier was able to freely come and go from the library and he was not.

“Oh? ‘Just stuff’ that you picked, huh? ‘Overtime’ you say? What kind of ‘just stuff’ did you save overtime?” Tony leaned in closer, a smug little smirk on his face with a twinkle of interest in his eyes.

“It’s not what you’re thinking, Tony. Y/N and I are just friends. Don’t go spreading unnecessary rumors. It’s nice to just have someone to talk to and not have to worry too much.” The stern tone in his voice earned a groaning sigh and eye roll from the impulsive scientist. “Also, dating in the workplace is unprofessional and would inevitably lead to complications.”

Romantic involvements are always troublesome. Loki silently agreed, the tension in his shoulders slipping away as Steve made it clear that there was nothing going on between the two of them. The last thing I need is her feeding him misinformation or him spying for her to see what I’m saying or doing. I require access to the library, not an extended sentence. He reasoned with himself.

“Mr. Rules strikes again, don’t you know any other tricks? Or is justice and teacher’s pet your only ones? I don’t even know why I bother talking to you, give me her number. There’s something there, I know there is!” Loki sat up straight at the words that came out of the short Midgardian. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Share her contact with me.” The prince’s eye twitched at the demand. He could not fathom why all of them wanted her number now that it was clear that none of them actually had it. What good was there in having contact information for someone that would never be contacted.

Especially when his interests were more fickle than the tide, ever-changing from one stupid notion to the next.

“I’ll pass on that,” Steve rolled his eyes at the petulant child look that Tony gave him. Loki silently agreed with this decision. “But you’re more than welcomed to get it from yourself.”

No, he is not! What sort of denial is that?! You may as well have given him the damned number if you’re giving permission to get it! His jaw ached from how tightly it was clenched, his leg rapidly bouncing under the table. Thor noticed the changes in his younger brother’s demeanor, but said nothing. He figured the company of the others was the cause, and as the elder of the two, he thought it best that Loki grew accustomed to the presence of the other Avengers.

“Are you gatekeeping her number? Why not just give it to me?”

“Because, I want you to actually work for something. Plus, this is just you trying to get under my skin, and you’re not actually going to go after her to get her number, Tony, I know you. This is a shiny new toy that you’re going to forget about the moment something else comes along.”

“You do like to play with things and toss ‘em aside when you’re bored.” Clint agreed, sipping his drink as he nudged the empty tray forward. “You’re not actually going to call her anyway.”

“Et tu, Robin Hood?” Tony gasped in horror. “Is that what all of you think of me? That I’m someone so callous to just use a poor innocent maiden like Y/N and just throw her away like yesterday’s newspaper the next day? I am offended. I’ll show you, me and her, we’re going to be like this.” He entwined his index and middle finger of one hand before standing up from the table. “You’ll see, and you’ll all regret it!” He threw his nose into the air and left, the others amused by his dramatics as they continued to not take him seriously. The only person not amused was Loki. They all goaded the chatty Tin-Man into actually getting her number instead of leaving her alone, the exact opposite of what should have been done.

It’s horrible enough that Major Constellations over here frequents the place, and he’s friendly with her, now I’ll have to share my sanctuary with that aluminum can? I refuse to accept this! There has to be some logic I’m missing, unless this is all some ploy to ruin my peace and quiet. No, I can’t be, can it? They’re all trying to ruin what little solace I have here? He eyed the remainder of the group suspiciously. Thor is working with me on that infernal project that started this mess, I doubt he is tied to it. The straight-laced sergeant only comes when he needs to for missions. I don’t think I’ve seen the bird-man there. That leaves just that nuisance of an existence, but his focus is currently on troubling their leader. Perhaps that is all there is to it? If it truly is, then I have nothing to worry about, so long as I get to her first and convince her to not share her contact information. To do that, I need her to first lift this Stygian banishment!

“Well, I thank you for her number, you proved most helpful in this matter of miscommunication. I should start putting my efforts towards composing a proper response, so I take my leave.” Loki stood from the table and left without giving anyone a chance to pry anymore than they already had.

“Director Y/LN, looks like everything checks out here. The programs are all running and there hasn’t been any repetition of the errors we first faced.” The weary voice of her subordinate pulled Y/N’s attention from her laptop screen.

“About time,” Y/N pushed a chipper tone into her voice to mask the true exhaustion that had taken lodging inside her. Lacing her fingers together, she turned her palms outwards and stretched as she sighed. “I swear, technology isn’t as amazing as it’s cracked up to be…especially when it flops like this first thing.” She grumbled as she logged the successful trial and cleared this site as operational.

“When it acts up, I can’t agree more. When it’s working, I have no complaints.” Her subordinate’s soft chuckle could not mask the fatigue. “C’mon, it’s late, but we still have time to grab dinner. The rest of us are heading out to celebrate that we’re finally online!” The eager twinkle in those brown eyes made the offer more tempting, but Y/N had to decline.

“You gotta join us, Chief!” Another chimed in, hearing her answer.

“Pretty please?” Came another plea.

“I really wish I could, but I’ve got a red-eye to catch. I need to finalize and submit the report before I’m off.” Y/N closed her laptop and pointed to the large clock on the wall.

“Damn, they’re really not giving you any wiggle room, huh?”

“That’s not fair at all! Other directors don’t go running around like they’re making you. This is abuse!”

“Let’s not get too hasty, I choose to handle certain things personally to make sure it’s done properly. It reduces the chances of unnecessary back-and-forth. Next time we can celebrate, I promise. Thanks for all your hard work, everyone. Let’s keep it up and get this project completed as soon as possible.” With a chorus of confirmations and cheers. Y/N packed her things and gave one last wave before leaving back to her hotel.

She dropped back onto the awaiting mattress, heaving a heavy sigh as she finally let the fatigue show itself. For the last five weeks, Y/N flew between all the S.H.I.E.L.D. locations that had a library department to manage the setup and checks of the new system that was provided per location as promised. She had been formally trained on the software, but sat through the boring session with the staff each and every time it was given. There was no doubt in her mind that if she were to die now, her last words would probably be incoherent ramblings from the lecture. The only good news in all this was that she was finally done. This flight would bring her one step closer to her much-needed comfy bed in her small, cozy apartment.

Forcing herself up, she pulled out her laptop to edit her report one last time before sending it off and logging out for the remainder of the evening. She changed to something comfortable and made sure everything was packed away and ready to go before ordering room service.

At least they don’t cheap out on where I stay and pick up the tab entirely. She leaned back into the padded headboard that was attached to the wall. “Did I check in to my flight? Crap, I don’t think I did.” She muttered, feelings round the covers until she found her phone hidden away under a pillow. A good hour and a half was burned away through all her editing and rechecking the report. Her stomach growled in protest. Gently patting the disgruntled creature, she quickly checked in through the app and sighed with relief at the boarding pass notification on her status bar. It was then that she noticed the message notification that was sitting there unread, still.

The corners of her lips tugged downwards into a frown. Y/N could have sworn that she read all of her messages. Opening the texting application, she noticed the unknown number had sent about 3 messages to her, the latest being from a couple of days ago. Her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the glowing screen, trying to recall anything. When nothing came to her, she gave in and opened the chat. Her jaw dropped as it all cam rushing back to her.

Oh shit, I’m in trouble now! She lightly and rapidly hit the heel of her left hand into her forehead several times. Way to go, Y/N, you completely ignored someone for almost three weeks now! “What do I do, what do I do?! Obviously, I need to reply, but how?!” She bit her lower lip, typing, reading, erasing, and retyping too many times to count before giving up at the knock at her door. Paying the server a tip, she sat at the table and began to eat. Clearly she needed food to get her brain in some semblance of working order as she reread the messages.

<Librarian, this is Loki, the second prince of Asgard. It has come to my attention that you have been working under a misunderstanding. Remove the banishment order.> It was the first text that came roughly three weeks ago.

<Librarian, this is not amusing. You placed a banishment order with no means for me to rectifying your misunderstanding by leaving the facility. Remove it at once.> This second text came four days after the first.

<Why do you not answer me, woman? I have repeatedly asked you to remove your misguided decision, and it has yet to be fixed.> This text, which made her snort, came almost two weeks ago. <I know you have read my texts.>

None of this is asking me anything, you’re demanding. She rolled her eyes.

<Perhaps my prior texts were not properly worded. As per the insistent pestering of my brother and the others, I am messaging you again. I did not intentionally ignore you the day you banished me from the library. I had just come from a lengthy training session and review/strategy meeting afterwards. The only thing I had done between then and arriving at the library was to refresh myself in my quarters to be more presentable in public. The ‘promise’ I made slipped my mind completely, but I had no control over that matter due to how long it took. You make ask your precious admiral if you wish to confirm my story, or you can request the data of that session to prove the time. With all that being said, I understand why you would be upset. I would greatly appreciate it if you would remove the order given to the system so that I may read peacefully in the library once more.> She was surprised to see such a lengthy text coming after all the short, demanding ones that came before it. What surprised her even more was the last text sent earlier today when she was fighting with the program errors. <Are you alright? You have not read my last text.><Sorry for replying so late, I was tied up with my work. Also, I accept your ‘apology’. By ‘admiral’, do you mean CAPTAIN America, Steve?> It took her a minute to realize who he was referring to, and she nearly fell out of her seat laughing at the mistake no one has ever made. At least not to her. <Why would I go ask him or check the records? I doubt you’re lying about a long session, I trust you. Sadly, you’ll have to wait until I’m back on site to cancel the order. I can only do those type of changes while on S.H.I.E.L.D. grounds and on their network. Good news is I’ll be back Monday, so just two more days!> She confidently sent her reply and finished the rest of her meal. Glancing at the clock, she sighed and called for the driver to come as she made her way to the lobby and checked out. Soon you’ll be home, Y/N, soon.

Tags: @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss @softestqueeen @thegodofnotknowing @princess-ofthe-pages @firedrakegirl @rcailleachcola @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lotrefcp @lwtannie @jainaeatsstars @msdjsg7 @tom-hlover @kneelingformyloki @gruftiela @gigglingtiggerv2 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @evalynanne

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badkitty3000 · 5 months

Text

I had to make a new post for the remaining chapters because it was getting too long to add them to the original. If you'd like to read chapters 1-6, here is the link.

☕Love In The Time Of Cholera And Coffee ☕

Part Two: Chapters 7-9

Five x Female Reader, Klaus x Female Reader

You and Klaus are in a casual relationship. No ties, just sex. When you start spending a lot of time at his apartment, you somehow manage to break through his brother's prickly outer shell. He seems to like you, or at least tolerate you the best that Five can. When you start to realize that maybe there is more than just mutual friendship between the two of you, it opens up a lot of feelings and unanswered questions. And a lot of problems.

This story contains sexually explicit material! (But also lots of humor and fluff)

Chapter Seven: Be My Baby

The morning rush is typical for a Saturday. Lots of parents on their way to soccer tournaments, and elderly couples that wake up early, starting their day when the sun rises. You don’t need to be there, necessarily. Your team can handle it. But you like it. You like the early morning sunrise and the smell of the first pot of coffee brewing. The smiles of the hopeful people as they start their days. The morning is perfect. It gives everyone the chance to start fresh.

As you’re surveying the pastries and taking note of inventory, the bell over the door rings. You don’t even look up as you focus on the spreadsheet on your tablet. The customer, however, is not the usual. You recognize the silhouette of the person walking towards you. How could you not? It’s been 6 months, but you’ll never forget it.

“Hey there,” he says, as he nears the counter.

He’s just as you remember him and he addresses you as if no time has passed.

“Hi, Klaus,” you respond with a timid smile, looking up from your tablet.

Klaus removes his sunglasses that had been perched on his nose, and he looks around, taking it all in. He smiles that smile that usually means he’s up to something.

“Wow, so this place is hopping!” he says as he leans against the counter.

He’s wearing a pair of way too-tight white jeans, and a tank top that says “Slut” across the chest. His signature dog tags hang down over the lettering and jingle when he moves.

“Yeah, we’re doing alright. Our profits are actually up since I bought it,” you respond with pride.

You haven’t seen Klaus since that day he and Five had their blow-out fight over you. Well, technically you haven’t seen him since the night before the blow-out. You had figured you’d never see either one of them again. Yet, here he was.

“Is that right? Well, mazel tov,” he answers with a genuine smile.

“Can I get you something?” you ask.

“I’ll take a green tea if you don’t mind,” Klaus says.

He doesn’t sound angry like you assumed he would be. Like he should be, honestly.

You nod at the barista who is working today and he busies himself with making Klaus’s drink. In the meantime, there is no one else in line, so you and he are stuck staring at each other. Klaus speaks first.

“So, it’s been a while. How are you?” he asks, a suspicious-looking smile on his face.

“I’m fine, thank you. And you?”

Klaus shrugs his shoulders and looks around again. “Oh, you know. I’m always here and there, doing something.”

You smile. “Same old Klaus. Like a feral tom cat just prowling the town.”

He winks back at you with a grin. “Meow.”

The barista hands him his tea and he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet to pay, but you hold out a hand.

“Don’t be silly. It’s on the house.”

Klaus raises his eyebrows, then lifts his cup up in a toasting gesture. “Thank you!”

You shrug. “It’s the least I can do. The very least.”

He nods thoughtfully and takes a sip, looking around the shop again. “Do you have a minute? You know, to talk?”

You swallow nervously and chew at your bottom lip. He doesn’t seem upset, but what does he want to talk to you about? It can’t be anything good. But you nod and come around the counter. You gesture to an empty table near the back, away from listening employees, and you both make your way over. Once you and Klaus are situated, sitting across from one another, you wait with hands folded in front of you.

“So…you’re probably wondering why I came here, aren’t you?” he asks, still with that same Klaus smile on his face.

You nod. “A little, yeah. I know we have good tea here but given the circumstances…” You look down at your hands and start picking at a cuticle. “I really never thought I’d be seeing you again.”

Klaus leans back and drapes an arm lazily over the back of the chair. “Yeah, well…I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. And maybe a little bit of therapy.” He rolls his eyes. “Anyway, I’ve been trying to be a better person and see the error of my ways, and all that shit. And I have come to the conclusion that I owe you an apology.”

The surprise on your face must be evident because Klaus gives a little laugh and shakes his head. “I know that’s not what you were expecting. But, it’s true. I owe you an apology and I’m sorry.”

“For…for what? I’m the one—”

He cuts you off with an airy wave of his hand. “Listen. I was selfish and I should have appreciated you more. I know we weren’t going to end up getting married or anything, but I could have made more of an effort. Like when you were sick…that was shitty of me and I’m sorry. If I had treated you just a little better, then maybe…”

You groan and drop your forehead onto your hands as they rest on the table. “Klaus, I appreciate the apology, but you had nothing to do with that. That was me and I’m the one that needs to apologize, not you. I’m the one that fucked everything up between you two.”

Klaus is quiet and you glance up at him. He has a tiny smile on his face again. “Ok, so we both had a hand in it. And I accept your apology. But you didn’t fuck everything up. I mean, you’re not that amazing,” he says with a smirk before taking another sip of his tea.

You lift your head. “What do you mean? You guys aren’t…”

Klaus shakes his head and gives another dismissive wave. “Nah, we’re good. He did move out, though. But that might have been more about me leaving wet towels on the bathroom floor than anything else.”

You chuckle a little and lean back in your chair, starting to relax somewhat. “Huh. Well, good. I’m glad to hear that.”

Klaus is looking at you with one eyebrow raised, his mouth turned up at the corner.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask.

Klaus shrugs his shoulders, trying to look innocent. Then he reaches into the pocket of his pants and pulls out a small, folded piece of paper. He slides it across the table to you. You pick it up with a look of confusion. When you unfold it, you see there is an address scrawled on it in Klaus’s messy handwriting.

“What is this?”

He gives another shrug. “I think maybe you two need to talk.”

Your eyes widen and you glance back down at the paper. “Wait…this is his address?”

Klaus nods, but then he’s starting to stand up, apparently ready to leave. “If you don’t want it, throw it out. But I figured I owed you that much.” He puts his sunglasses back on and looks down at you. “You do know he’s in love with you, right?”

Your shocked expression makes him laugh and he leans down to give you a quick peck on the cheek.

“Thanks for the tea. Maybe I’ll see you around. You know, at family gatherings or something?”

Then Klaus is walking out the door, leaving you stunned and staring down at the piece of paper in your hands, your brain whirring.

A week goes by and you try not to think about it. But it’s kind of hard when you carry that paper around with you in your pocket every day. The address isn’t far from your store. Just a few blocks, actually. Which makes you realize that he has probably been avoiding you and the shop like the plague. Or has he been quickly walking by, taking a glance through the windows to see if you’re there? Maybe blinking away before you can raise your head and see him. Doubtful. Despite what Klaus told you, you have every reason to believe he has no desire to see you again.

Every time you think that maybe you should walk over there, to that address you have memorized now, you change your mind. Maybe it would be different if you still didn’t have a clear image of him in your head from the last time you saw him. That blank, uncaring look on his face. Those cold words he said to you. That’s what stops you each time.

But then at night, when you’re home alone and in bed trying in vain to sleep, different images come to mind. Memories of his face and his smile, and the way he would begrudgingly laugh at something funny you said. And of his body on yours, the heat of his skin, and his urgent kisses. You remember every word he said to you in the dark that night. And you just can’t believe he didn’t mean them. Not when he was pleading with you to be his.

The crazy thing was that you had already given yourself over to him. You wanted to be his. And you had thought that night was going to be just one of many you would spend together. Maybe it would have been awkward at first, with Klaus; but you were willing to try and work past that. Because that’s how much you wanted to be with him.

What an idiot you had been. On your way out of work one night, you throw the paper with the address into the trash can and walk away.

It has been two weeks since Klaus came by and even though you still can’t stop thinking about what he told you, you aren’t taking the bait. You’re better off without him or any of that mess. He’s better off without you, too.

The café is quiet, with only a few lights left on. It’s been closed for an hour now, all cleaned and the food stored away for the night. Your staff has gone home and it’s just you there. You’re finishing up some financial documents on your laptop at a table, a mix of some soft rock tunes playing on the speakers overhead. You’re humming along to a Whitney Houston song when you hear a knock on the glass door. When you look up, you take a sharp breath in and accidentally knock over the glass of water you had sitting next to you.

It's Five. He’s standing there, right outside the door, and he’s already spotted you, so you can’t exactly hide. Plus, now you’re jumping up and trying to mop up the spilled water with a few flimsy napkins and swearing to yourself out loud.

“Shit shit shit,” you mumble.

When you look up again, you can see Five watching the whole thing go down and he’s got that smirk on his face. The one you hate but also can’t stop thinking about. You huff, rolling your eyes, and motion for him to come in. The door is locked for the night, of course, but that doesn’t matter. He blinks in right away, reappearing a few feet away from you, hands in his pants pockets.

“Hi,” he says with a smile.

You pause, taking him in for a moment. Damn it, why is he so good-looking? With his stupid dark hair falling onto his forehead and his annoyingly perfect body and ridiculously chiseled jawline. And that goddamn sexy, smart-ass expression on his face. Fuck.

“What are you doing here?” you say, trying to appear like you couldn’t possibly care less that he’s standing right in front of you.

He shrugs. “Just walking by. I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d see if you were still here.”

After throwing the soggy napkins into the trash behind the counter, you come around again and lean against it, your arms crossed.

“Just walking by, huh?”

Five at least has the decency to look a little embarrassed as he glances at the floor and clears his throat.

“Yeah, well…something like that,” he mumbles.

“Why are you here, Five?”

You’re determined not to let him see the uncertainty in you and you raise your chin and square your shoulders to try and appear more confident. Inside, a million butterflies have taken residence in your stomach.

He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, so…Klaus told me he came by the other day.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yes, he did. And?”

“He told me he talked to you and gave you my address.”

You make a circular motion with your hand to get him to hurry this little story along.

“Anyway, he said he gave it to you and I thought maybe…” he trails off and looks down at the floor again.

“Ohhh…you thought maybe I’d come crawling back to you? Run right on over and jump into your arms? Tell you all is forgiven. Is that what you thought?”

“No!” he snaps, and then his voice softens again. “No. I just thought…” He throws his hands in the air in frustration. “Fuck! I don’t know what I thought! This is stupid, I don’t know why I came here.”

He turns around to leave, but you call out so that he stops in his tracks. “I almost did!” He turns to you and you blush a little. “I came really close to going over there. I had a whole speech prepared and everything. It was good, too. I was really going to let you have it.” You give a short laugh.

“Why didn’t you?” he asks.

“Because I was afraid that what Klaus told me wasn’t true,” you admit.

“What did Klaus tell you?”

You’re not really sure you want to get into all of that quite yet, so you change the subject back to him.

“Really, why are you here, Five? It’s been six months, so why now?”

“I just…” he takes a deep breath. “I just wanted to see you again. And to say I’m sorry.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Then they crease together again. “And which thing or things are you sorry for?”

Five sighs and takes a few steps toward you, but stops short of coming too close. He seems to gain a little more confidence and he looks you in the eyes.

“I’m sorry for everything. For putting you in that situation. And for saying what I did. I know I was a jerk and you didn’t deserve that.”

You look up and blink a few times to try and keep your emotions in check. Then you look back at him.

“Jerk doesn’t even begin to cover it. You hurt me, Five. Really hurt me. Do you realize that?”

He swallows hard and nods. “I know.”

“Why? Why did you do that? I don’t understand. I was ready to…” Your voice cracks and you don’t finish your sentence.

“After the fight with Klaus, I just felt so awful and ashamed, so I panicked and took it out on you. Which was a really shitty thing to do, and I’m so sorry. I also understand if you never want to see or talk to me again, but I thought I’d take a chance by coming here. I at least wanted to let you know.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah, ok, so you’re sorry. Is there anything else you’d like to confess?”

“What do you mean?”

You shift your weight to your other foot and cross and uncross your arms. “Did you even mean those things you said that night?”

He pauses for a minute and you see him swallow hard. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I meant them.”

“Klaus said you’re in love with me,” you blurt out, and you watch as his eyes get wide and his face flushes.

He clenches his teeth together. “Fucking Klaus,” he mutters under his breath.

“So?” you challenge. “Is he right?”

He is visibly uncomfortable and his hands are in his pockets again as he looks at the floor. Then he gathers some courage and he looks up.

“He’s right,” he says. “I am in love with you. I have been for a long time.”

You sigh and put your hands on your hips and look up at the ceiling, then back at him again. “Damn it, Five!”

“What?”

“You know, just because you say that does not mean all is forgiven, or that I’m automatically in love with you too, even though I am, although why I have no fucking idea. I really cannot believe the nerve of you showing up here after all this time. You are still the biggest asshole I have ever met and I’m not even sure I want anything to do with you anymore—"

Your rant is cut short when Five closes the few feet between you in a short spatial jump, making you yelp sharply when he suddenly grabs you around the waist and pulls you into him.

“Let go of me!” you say in protest.

“What did you say?” he asks, that arrogant look on his face as his mouth turns up on one side.

You squirm, trying to get out of his grasp but it’s not very convincing, and it’s also making your body rub up against his, which is not helping matters. His hold on you is strong, though, and he doesn’t let up. He’s looking you right in the eyes and you can’t seem to look away.

“I said you’re a giant asshole,” you say, your voice much weaker all of a sudden.

“You said you’re in love with me.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did,” he says with a smirk, right before he jerks your body closer to him, his arm wrapped around your middle and his hand resting on the small of your back.

His eyes travel over your face and you look at his lips and suddenly you can’t think straight anymore. You nod your head slowly.

“Yeah, maybe I did,” you confess in a whisper, right before he kisses you.

His kiss is soft and slow, and he brings his hand up to the side of your face. All of those feelings that you had pushed down come rushing back to you with that touch. You kiss him back, savoring the feel of his soft lips and the way his body feels next to yours.

He smiles against your mouth, even as he continues kissing you, and you drape your arms over his shoulders. When you pull away, he keeps his hand on your cheek.

“I’m sorry it took me this long to get my shit together,” he tells you with a breathy laugh. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you tell him with a smile, but when he goes in for another kiss, you pull back and place a hand on his chest. “Whoa there, buddy, not so fast.”

He scrunches his eyebrows together and it takes a lot of resolve for you not to kiss him right now because his pouty man face is so cute.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

“Ok, so you said you’re sorry, but I’m going to need a little more than that.”

“More?”

“Yes. You can’t possibly think waltzing in here and simply saying you’re sorry and you love me is enough, can you?”

“So, what do you want? You want me to fall on my knees and grovel?”

You place a finger on your lips in thought. “Hmm…that does sound nice, but something tells me you’d actually like that. No, let me think…” When you hear the music that has been playing on the store speakers, your face lights up. “I got it!”

“I’m afraid to ask, but ok, what is it?”

“Sing.”

“Excuse me?”

You step out of his arms and lean back against the counter again. “I want you to sing the next song that comes on. No matter what it is. And I want it done with feeling. To me.”

Five’s face is hilarious because he looks like you just kicked him in the nuts. “Are you fucking serious? You want me to sing to you?”

You nod. “Yep.”

He stares in stunned silence for a minute before he crosses his arms and tilts his head. “You know I took a punch in the face for you.”

You shrug. “Sorry to hear that, but that’s not really relevant at the moment. Plus, I wasn’t there to witness or enjoy it, so it doesn’t count. No, I want you to sing, and if you half-ass it you will have to start over. I want to see some professional, Frank Sinatra-level, Elvis in Las Vegas-style crooning. And I want it right now.”

Five glances up and notices the security camera mounted in the corner behind you and runs a hand down his face. “Shit. And this is the only way you’re going to forgive me and stop torturing me by standing there looking cute but not letting me touch you?”

“Pretty much, yes.”

“And there’s no way I can talk my way out of this and get you to kiss me again? Because I really want to kiss you again.”

“Nope. You say you love me. Prove it.”

He sighs heavily. “Alright then.”

“Alright, what?”

“I guess I’m fucking singing.”

You smile widely and at just that precise moment, the song that had been playing fades out and another one starts up. You start laughing when you hear “Be My Baby” by the Ronettes. It’s such a cheesy, girly pop song, and it’s perfect.

“Don’t forget…with feeling,” you remind him as you perch yourself on the countertop and wait expectedly for him to start.

With another sigh and a sarcastic smile in your direction, Five reluctantly starts singing.

The night we met I knew I needed you so

And if I had the chance I’d never let you go

It’s bad and off-key and he’s stumbling over some of the words. He can’t decide if he wants to sing it in the high, women’s register or lower his voice, so his voice keeps cracking. But he’s putting the effort in, like you requested.

So won't you say you love me?

I’ll make you so proud of me

We’ll make ‘em turn their heads, every place we go

He’s starting to get into it a little, adding awkward dancing and elaborate hand choreography.

So won’t you please

Be my little baby

Say you’ll be my darling

It’s maybe the cutest thing you’ve ever seen and when you start giggling, that’s when he really kicks it into gear. He grabs a plastic knife from the counter and uses it as a microphone to up his performance.

Be my baby now…whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh

He is singing his heart out directly to you, as dramatically as he can. He is also trying not to laugh while you are barely holding it together as you watch his horribly wonderful performance that he is putting on just because you asked him to. The dramatic emoting and facial expressions are too much, so you cover your eyes with your hands and peek through two fingers to watch him.

I’ll make you happy, baby,

Just wait and see

For every kiss you give me

I’ll give you three

For this, he grabs your hand and kisses it dramatically as you toss your head back and laugh at him. You have never seen him act this stupid and silly, and it’s making you love him that much more because you know he’d never do this for anyone else. When the interlude comes on, Five tosses his knife microphone over his shoulder without taking his eyes off you and takes your hand again, pulling you into him. He holds you to him as he dances slowly with you and when the lyrics start up again, he finishes out the song by belting it out as loudly and as off-key as possible while you alternate between laughing and visibly cringing.

So won’t you please

Be my little baby

Say you’ll be my darlin’

Be my baby now

Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh

As the song winds down and fades away, he stops dancing, but he’s still holding you close to him. He stands there with a wicked grin, waiting for you to say something.

“That’s all on video, you know. So I can blackmail you whenever you act up,” you say with a smile.

“Do you believe that I am willing to do anything for you, including humiliating myself? Did I sufficiently prove my love to you?”

“Well, I reserve the right to demand further proof at future times, but for right now, yes. That was sufficient.”

He doesn’t wait any longer before he’s back to kissing you, and this time you don’t try to stop him. When he holds you tight to his chest, his arms wrapped around you and his hand winding into your hair, you feel happier than you have in months. You probably shouldn’t have taken him back so willingly, despite his apologies and musical performance. But you can’t help yourself. You want him like you’ve never wanted anyone in your life, and the fact that he came back here for you has immediately melted any stoniness you had in your heart for him.

It’s quickly obvious that a few kisses are not going to be enough and you are both breathing hard as you try to pull each other even closer. Five pushes you up against the counter, boosting you up so you’re sitting on top and he is standing between your legs, his hands gripping into your thighs and pulling them forward to wrap around his waist. After a few seconds, you place a hand on his chest again.

“Hang on, we can’t do this,” you say, your chest heaving.

Five frowns. “I’m sorry, am I moving too fast?”

“No, I mean we can’t do this here . This is a major health code violation and if someone sees I’ll be in deep shit.”

Five laughs. “Well, I wasn’t planning on jizzing into the espresso machine, but I guess I see your point. We can stop.”

“No, I don’t want to stop ! Can’t we go to your place? It’s just a few blocks over.”

Five raises his eyebrows in surprise and chuckles. “I thought you didn’t care where I lived.”

You blush. “Well…I may have thrown your address out but that doesn’t mean I didn’t memorize it or map out how to get there from here.”

“Stalker!”

“Shut up,” you tell him, even as you’re smiling. “I know you’re loving this, you bastard.”

He shakes his head. “You think I’m loving the fact that the girl I’m head over heels in love with has secretly been obsessed with me and stalking me like a total creep?”

“I wasn’t stalking you! Jesus Christ, Five…are we going back to your place or not?”

He laughs again and you find yourself laughing right along with him. “Come on, psycho, let’s go.” He holds out a hand for you and you hop down off the counter. “It’s a nine-minute walk. Three if you let me blink you part of the way there.”

“You know exactly down to the minute? Who’s the stalker now?”

“Alright, I confess. I may have walked past here a couple of times.”

“Only a couple?” you ask with a smile.

He rolls his eyes. “I think I already regret coming here.”

You give him a quick kiss and then pull him by his hand towards the door. “No, you don’t. Because, in a few minutes, I’m going to rock your world, baby.”

He gives a frustrated groan. “You’re definitely letting me blink you there, now. I can’t wait a full nine minutes.”

Chapter Eight: Slow Hand

When we arrive at my apartment (5 minutes later, after one blink and a quick make-out session on the street), we step inside and she takes a look around. It’s not much different than the one I shared with Klaus, just a little smaller. The furniture is nice but simple, and everything is clean. There’s nothing fancy about it, but it’s comfortable and cozy. She notices a folded-up newspaper on one of the tables, turned to a half-completed crossword puzzle.

She smiles and points at it. “Such an old man thing to have.” She glances around. “Where’s the bowl of butterscotch candies? Or the plastic furniture covers?”

I am watching her as she starts walking around the living room, but then I suddenly blink over and grab her from behind. My arms are around her middle, holding her close to me while my mouth makes its way to her neck. After her initial shock wears off, she melts into me and tips her head back onto my shoulder.

“I might be an old man, darling, but my body and my hormones are 21 and you are driving them fucking crazy right now.”

She inhales sharply and exhales a soft laugh as I caress her stomach and hips with my hands, letting my mouth trail over her neck.

“Good thing for you, I happen to have a thing for older men in hot, young bodies,” she says. She turns around to face me, my arms still around her, and she gives me a smile before kissing me.

“Lucky me,” I reply.

Before I can say anything else, she pushes me backward until my legs hit the back of the couch. She gives me a shove with a hand on my chest, making me sit down, and she immediately climbs onto my lap, straddling me. Just that move right there has me hard already and I grab her face with both hands, kissing her deeply while she pushes herself over my crotch.

“Can I ask you something?” she breathes out while my mouth returns to her neck.

“Hmmm,” I respond in between kisses.

“Have you been with anyone else since me?”

I stop and I just can’t help but tease her a little with an inside joke about the book we read together. I flash her a devious smile. “622. Give or take.”

She laughs and whacks me on the chest. “Yeah, right. You wish.”

I shake my head. “No, sweetheart. There’s been only you on my mind.” Then I trace my thumb across her bottom lip and look her in the eyes. “But it’s ok if you have.”

She kisses me again, running a hand through my hair. “I went on one date, that’s it.”

Despite what I just told her about it being ok, my body immediately tenses up when she says that and I know she can tell. I start to relax a little when she places her own kisses onto the side of my neck. I let out a long breath before I ask more questions, even though I don’t really want to hear about it.

“Just one?”

She nods, continuing her kisses. “Yes. Just one.”

“And how did this date end?” I ask, trying to play it cool, although I doubt it’s very convincing.

She runs her tongue under the curve of my jaw before giving it a small bite. I grab her hips in return.

“It ended with a very steamy good night hug.”

I let out a hum of approval, leaning my head back while she draws her lips over my Adam’s apple.

“Why nothing more?”

She pauses and waits until I’m looking at her again. “Because he wasn’t you,” she tells me. I think maybe she is teasing me, but the look on her face is completely serious.

“I like that answer.”

I put my hand on the back of her neck as I try to pull her in for another kiss, but she resists and pulls backward. I’m momentarily confused until I see her very devilish face as she slowly slides off my lap and onto the floor, kneeling in front of me with her hands on my thighs. She looks up at me, biting her lower lip and it’s a goddamn miracle I haven’t come in my pants yet. I let out a little whimper just from the sight of her.

“You know, you kicked me out before I had a chance to repay you for that amazing tongue action you gave me that night,” she tells me.

“That was pretty fucking stupid of me,” I joke, although I’m clearly breathing harder and I have to shift in my seat.

She smiles and leans forward, letting her mouth graze over the crotch of my pants where the hard swelling of my erection is impossible to miss. When I feel her warm breath seeping through the fabric, I suck in a loud breath and push my hips up.

“Fuck,” I whisper.

As she starts unbuckling my belt and opening my pants, she looks back up. “You don’t have to,” I tell her quietly.

She gives me a small smile but starts to pull at my pants until I help her out by lifting my hips up slightly. When she takes my straining cock in her hand, I make another groaning noise and swear under my breath.

“Let me give this to you,” she says softly.

She is licking and sucking up and down my shaft and circling her tongue over the head, and I’ve never experienced anything like this before. I may have had a few sexual experiences before her, but none of them involved anything sensual like this.

“You taste so good,” she moans before her lips pass over my entire length again and I have to close my eyes.

I move a hand to her head and she makes a little whining noise that I take to mean she’s ok with me doing that. Which is very good, because I am having one hell of a time controlling myself right now. I flex my fingers and pull her hair at the same time I just slightly push her head down. I want to fuck her face so badly right now, but I know if that happens, I’m going to be done in about three seconds and I’d really like to wait just a little longer before I embarrass myself again this evening.

“Oh fuck, honey, that feels so good and I really don’t want you to stop, but…shit…I’m not going to be able to hold out much longer if you keep doing that.”

She doesn’t laugh, or argue, and she looks pretty proud of herself as she removes her mouth from me and looks up. My chest is heaving and I lick my lips.

“Get up here,” I say with enough authority that she knows I’m not messing around.

It must have worked because she’s standing up in a second and stripping off her clothes until she is fully naked in front of me.

“God fucking damn it, you’re gorgeous,” I groan, reaching out a hand for her.

Rather than climb directly onto my lap again, she shakes her head and leans down to unbutton my shirt and drag it down my arms. I love the way her warm hands feel on me as she quickly undresses me. She yanks my pants the rest of the way down my legs and off until I’m completely naked, too. She stops for a minute and looks me over. My mind drifts back to the time she caught me in the shower, jerking off while thinking of her. Luckily now, I get to do a lot more than just imagine things.

This time when I pull her by the hand, she immediately relents, straddling my lap once more. I dive onto her mouth to kiss her hard while I grab her hips tightly. She whines quietly as she automatically starts rubbing her soaking wet slit over my cock. It feels amazing, but I need to be inside of her again; I can’t wait any longer. With one lift of her hips and some maneuvering with my hand, she sinks down onto my shaft, letting me fill her up entirely.

“Oh…oh my god!” she cries out.

We stay like that for a minute, neither one of us moving yet, and I bring my hand up to the back of her neck, pulling her closer to me.

“I’ve missed you so much…” I murmur into her shoulder and I hear her sigh happily.

When she starts to move, slowly, over my dick, my grip on her tightens and I thrust up to match her rhythm. I can’t stop looking her deep in the eyes, so when she tries to look away, I gently guide her face towards me again. My hands travel down her sides and back up again, around to her ass, and then over her thighs. I want to touch every part of her and I can’t believe how long I’ve gone without feeling her. I love how it feels with her slowly fucking me, but I can’t stop the urge to have her pounding away on top of me.

“Ride me harder, sweetheart,” I tell her with a groan as I jerk her body forward.

She does exactly what I say and starts moving hard and fast on top of me, her hands holding onto my shoulders and her forehead pressed to mine.

“I love you, Five. I need you and I love you,” she tells me, and she sounds so desperate.

I’ve never been so happy to hear something in my whole life and it’s almost painful to feel the amount of love that is flowing through me right now. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry for everything. I love you so much.”

It’s hard to focus on everything all at once. I want to keep kissing her and tell her so many things. I want to feel her body pressed against mine, her hands all over me, and her harsh breathing on my skin. The desperate noises we are making are getting louder and higher pitched, and underneath all of that, I can hear the wet slapping noises between the two of us as her cunt passes over my dick. She is fucking me as hard as she can, but it’s not enough; I want more.

I don’t say anything or ask if it’s ok before I lift her off by her hips, pulling out and throwing her next to me so that she’s lying on her back. She’s sprawled out, whining at the loss of my body against hers. That doesn’t last long though, because I’m back on top of her in a second, thrusting inside of her again while I hold myself over her.

“I do love you, but fuck , I want to destroy this body of yours right now,” I warn between clenched teeth.

“I’m all yours,” she moans, throwing her head back as I slam into her.

I am rough and relentless, and even though I’m fucking her to the point I’m sure it’s almost painful, she is screaming for more. She is gasping for air and whimpering with each forceful drive of my cock inside of her. I’m starting to sweat and my hair is hanging in my face, but I keep my eyes trained on her. I’m hoping to god she’s getting close because I know I am and this is one race I do not want to win.

“Five…Five, oh my god yes!”

Hearing that is too much, though, and suddenly I’m violently coming inside of her. “Ah, fff-fuck!”

She is falling apart, clutching at my shoulders and writhing beneath me, her body spasming with pleasure as she lets out a sobbing cry that is filled with emotions. My manic thrusting stops as I stiffen against her, my hips twitching as I fill her up with a surge of cum. My moans are loud and long as I hold myself over her, finally lowering myself down enough to kiss her through panting breaths.

As my body relaxes, she pulls me onto her so I can press my face into the crook of her neck, my chest flush with hers. We trade soft kisses back and forth as we both try to catch our breath. She smiles at me and pushes my hair off my damp forehead, trailing her fingers down the side of my neck and over my shoulder. I could stay like this forever.

“Shit, that was amazing. I want you like that every day,” she tells me. “Although, maybe you have lots of important things to do this evening? Should I leave?”

I let out a long sigh. “Is this going to be a thing? You’re just going to make me pay for my stupid behavior again and again?”

She shrugs and gives me that impossibly cute smart-ass look of hers. “Probably.”

I return it by giving her a small bite to the side of her neck and I chuckle when she yelps. I hold myself over her so I can look down on her, one eyebrow raised. “I suppose that’s fair. But you are the only important thing I have to do this evening and you are never leaving again.”

“Oh, so now you’re holding me captive?”

“I’m afraid so,” I tell her sadly.

She laughs and pulls me down to kiss me again. “You’re so cute when you’re all soft and sweet like this.”

“I think we’ve been over this,” I say with a frown. “I am not cute. I am an angry, smoldering, sex god.”

Running a hand over my back and down, she grabs my ass and gives it a squeeze. “Yes, you are. And you are my smoldering sex god.”

I don’t know about the sex god part of it, but I know I am undeniably hers from now on. I smile. “Yes, I am.”

After another quick kiss, I help her up off the couch and she heads to the bathroom to get cleaned up. I still can’t believe this is real and I just stand there like a big, naked dope smiling to myself because I’m so happy right now.

When she comes back out, I’m still there waiting for her and I watch as she bends down to pick up her underwear that was discarded on the floor. I startle her when I grab them from out of her hands and tilt her face up with a hand on her chin.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask with a smirk.

She blinks up at me and sticks her bottom lip out. “I thought I was getting dressed.”

Without taking my eyes off her, I hurl the balled-up panties over her shoulder so that they land halfway across the room. “Like hell you are.”

Then, just to be a giant prick, I grab her around the waist and in half a second we are falling out of one of my portals and onto my bed. She lets out a shriek as her back hits the mattress and I laugh evilly when I land next to her. This might be my favorite party trick and it never gets old.

After she gets her wits about her, she sits up with a scowl and punches me in the arm. “Don’t ever do that without giving me a heads-up again! Fuck, that was weird.”

“Sorry, darling. But when you have the ability to teleport a beautiful, naked woman into your bed, it’s nearly impossible not to take advantage of the opportunity.”

She’s probably still trying to get that foggy feeling to leave her brain, but I don’t wait before I kiss her again, deep and hard while I push her back onto the bed. I know she can already feel me getting harder as I lay myself over her.

With a giggle, she pulls back. “Already? Pretty impressive for someone your age.”

I flip a piece of hair out of my eyes and gaze down at her with an expression I’ve been told makes me look like an arrogant asshole. “Sweetheart, if you think for one minute you are getting any kind of break tonight, think again. We have a lot of time to make up for and with that amazing fucking body of yours, I get hard as a rock just looking at you.”

She lets out a little whimper that has me proving my previous statement as I start pressing myself against her thigh. She lays her head back and lets me kiss down her neck and over her chest. Her hands are warm and firm as they travel over my body in response. Everything is perfect and I’m in heaven.

"Five?”

“Yes, love?” I ask, not stopping as I move my mouth to her cleavage, sucking at the skin there while I massage her perfect tits and lightly graze her nipples with my fingertips.

“I want this to be real. And I want it to last.” I stop what I am doing and look up at her. “If you think there’s a chance that tomorrow or next week or even a month from now you are going to change your mind; if there’s any doubt at all…then I can’t do this. So, tell me now if this is just another impulse you are acting on but are going to regret in the morning. Tell me if you’re going to wake up tomorrow and say none of this was real. Because that shit hurt and I don’t want to feel that bad ever again.”

It’s like someone just ripped my heart out of my chest. I look at her face and it’s filled with so much uncertainty and hurt, and it was all caused by me. I want to reassure her that I will never do anything like that again, but I hardly know where to start. My mouth opens partially before closing again. I reposition myself so that I am lying next to her, placing my hand gently on the side of her face, urging her to look at me. I want to look her in the eyes so that she knows I mean it.

“I know I hurt you. I was horrible to you and I understand why you don’t want to trust me right now. I wish you could see inside my head and know how fucking sorry I am. How I wish I could take back everything I said to you that morning. All I can do is beg for your forgiveness and let me try and make it up to you. I meant everything I said. I’ll take care of you. I want to make you happy. And I want you with me not just for tonight, but always. I love you.”

“Ok,” she whispers with a small nod. “I believe you.”

“I’m serious. I can’t promise I will never do anything stupid again or that I will magically stop being an asshole sometimes, but I can promise that I will never deny my feelings for you again.”

She nods again, and then her mouth turns up in a cute little smile. “Never? Even when I’m incredibly annoying and wiping my snotty nose all over your shirtsleeve?”

I make a disgusted face that has her giggling. “You wiped your nose on me?”

“Just once or twice when you weren’t looking.”

I shake my head. “No wonder I ended up with your disease ten days later.”

She smiles and traces my lips with her fingertips. “A deadly disease and a punch in the face? Just for little old me?”

I kiss the tips of her fingers and nod. “And I would do it all over again a million times if it meant you’d end up here. Specifically, right here, underneath me and naked.”

When I start to kiss her again, I feel her body react as she sighs into me, and her hips start slowly rolling upwards. She tries to drag my body on top of hers, but I don’t let her. Instead, I pull away from her mouth to look at her again, my fingers following the curve of her jaw. I have been thinking of something she said while she was talking in her feverish dreams that night, and I’m going to need to try it out.

“I told you I’d take care of you and I meant it.” I give her another kiss. “So, let Daddy take care of you, my love.”

Her reaction is just what I was hoping for as she sucks in a loud breath and bites at her lip, her hips pressing up again. I laugh, kissing her gently while running the back of my hand down her cheek.

“I take it you like that, sweetheart?” I murmur as I move under her chin.

She whines out some sort of response that might resemble a yes, and I smile with approval while my mouth travels back down her neck and onto her collarbone.

“I want to make you feel good.” I go about sucking a dark bruise onto the hollow between her shoulder and neck, making her hiss through clenched teeth. “Tell Daddy what you want, darling.”

“Shit,” she breathes out, at the same time trying desperately to push herself against me, but I’m being mean and not letting her. “I really fucking like it when you say things like that,” she moans.

I’m trailing my lips over the soft skin of her neck. She’s so beautiful and I nuzzle my face into her shoulder, sighing happily. “Do you? Now, how did I know that I wonder?” My hands start roaming all over her body. I continue to speak close to her ear and bite her earlobe. “What else, my love? Tell me. Tell me everything you want.”

With a whine, she closes her eyes and tips her head back. “I want to feel your hands all over me. I dream about your hands.”

Well, that’s new information. But it’s definitely going to work in my favor because if she likes my hands, I love exploring every square inch of her body with them.

I place another deep, sucking kiss that brands a mark onto her neck and she tries to stifle a whimper, but it comes out anyway. One of my hands is already making its way down her side and onto her hip while my other gently pets her hair as I hold myself partially over her with my forearm.

My fingers trace along the curves of her thighs and onto her stomach. I continue watching her face as I map out her body, bit by bit until she is so starved for more, she tries to push my hand between her legs. I’m quicker and stronger, though, and I pull my hand away with a sly grin and a shake of my head. I really am being a bastard right now.

“If you want something, sweetheart, you need to tell me.”

She gives a small groan of frustration, but she meets my eyes as her hips jerk upwards.

“Fuck me with your hand, Daddy.”

Damn, if that isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever heard and I think about forgetting her request altogether and just slamming my cock into her instead. I resist, though, and I lower my head to bury my face into her shoulder again. “Oh, shit I love hearing that,” I tell her.

I want to give her everything she wants though, so I get back to work, my hand slowly moving across her lower abdomen and then lower still. I tease by stroking the crease between her thighs and hips and then pull away again. She is getting more and more worked up by my fingers traveling over her body. I decide to crank up the dirtiness level just a little by bringing my hand up to her mouth and pushing my two fingers inside. She immediately grabs my hand by the wrist and starts sucking on them, wetting them all over and slipping her tongue in between. Her eyes fall shut and she moans. I push them in and out a few times, and I like the way she looks when I do that.

“You look so pretty like this, baby,” I tell her before I remove them and she licks at her lips.

I give her another kiss before I’m back to tracing lines over her breasts, leaving a trail of her own saliva over each one. I keep moving down, over her stomach again and around to her hip. It’s slow, but the anticipation makes it all the more erotic when my fingers finally make contact with the satiny area between her legs. The noise she lets out is loud and long and when I slip two digits inside of her tight hole, she cries out; pressing her hips up to try and fuck my fingers.

“Five! Ohhh...god...”

“Don’t close your eyes. Look at me,” I order her, and she obeys.

I want to see her reaction to every little movement and calculated maneuver I perform on her. I also want to hear her. I want her to cry out my name and scream so loud the neighbors will think something is wrong. The crease between her eyes deepens and her mouth falls open as she keeps her eyes on me like I want; all while I am fucking her slowly and deliberately with my hand.

“That’s my sweet girl. Just like that.”

When I curl my fingers inside of her and press my thumb into her clit, she grips the bed covers on either side with her fists and arches her back off the bed.

“Oh, fuck yes!” she screams out.

Watching her like this is turning me on like crazy, and I have to tell myself to keep going. I want to pound my cock inside of her again, to feel her tight cunt around me as I slam mercilessly against it. I keep fingering her, but the thought of everything else I want to do is getting to me and I can’t help rubbing my dick against her leg.

She is so wet that my hand is covered in the slick of her arousal, and it’s dripping down my wrist. I push in deeper and work her clit harder while she writhes around, thrusting her hips up. I’m practically humping her leg now, shoving my cock between her thigh and the bed, and I can’t fucking stop. Any contact with her body against my raging hard-on feels amazing and I want more.

Right before she comes, she grabs my hand and shoves it harder against herself, grinding and bucking against it while the noises she’s making get louder and louder. I feel like my dick is going to explode I’m so worked up right now and just watching her fall apart like this is making it worse.

When she starts to squeeze her eyes shut, I don’t let her. “Look at me,” I demand, and she does.

“Ff-iive!” she moans as she pulses against me, her grip on my wrist tightening.

When she calms down and her hand slackens on mine, I pull my soaking-wet fingers out. She smiles dreamily up at me and lets out a breathy laugh.

“Sorry, I got a little—”

I don’t let her finish what she was going to say, because all I can think about are my own needs at the moment. I want to fuck her so badly, but I know that I’m going to come instantaneously if I shove my dick into her right now. Instead, I take her hips and flip her over while I sit up on my knees behind her, pulling her towards me so that her ass is in the air directly in front of me. I hear her make a little squeal of surprise, but I barely register it.

When I haul back and smack her voluptuous ass cheek with the flat of my hand, leaving a beautiful pink mark on her skin, she cries out louder.

“Be a good girl and stay right there for Daddy,” I growl.

All I can think about is how she is finally mine and no one else can have her. I violently pump my hand over my dick as I stare at the perfectly round ass that belongs to only me. I rub one cheek while I’m still jerking my cock; she is moaning while sprawled out on the bed in front of me, ass in the air. It’s such a depraved scene and what I’m about to do will probably not be appreciated, but I can’t be bothered to care at the moment. After a few more strokes I am unloading all over her, covering her with ropes of my cum. I watch as it pools in the small of her back and drips down in between her crack. More of it lands directly on her ass and is sliding down the backs of her thighs.

I want this image to be burned into my brain, as sick as that sounds. I feel like I just marked her as my own like some sort of territorial animal. Some psychiatrist out there would probably have a field day with me right now, but fuck them. She is mine and here’s the sticky, milky proof all over her.

“Fuck!” I yell as the last few drops spurt out.

I’m breathing loud and hard and it takes me a minute to fully grasp what I just did, which was jerking off all over her ass and back without any warning or permission to do so. I can’t see her face either, because she has it turned to the side and her hair is partially covering it.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” I start to say, but then she pushes her hair away and glances back at me as she lowers her body so she’s flat on the bed again. I start to feel a little better when I see she’s smiling.

“Damn, Daddy, you are one horny, perverted old man!”

“Yeah, that was not my finest moment, was it? I am so sorry,” I say sheepishly.

She laughs. “Don’t be sorry. Anytime you want to take charge like that, you can do whatever you want to me.”

I break into a wide grin. “That’s a good thing, then, because I have many more dirty things in mind that I’d like to do to you.”

“Can’t wait,” she says in that sexy way I love.

She’s still lying there covered in my semen that is rapidly cooling and sticking to her skin. Even if she says she’s ok with me jerking off all over her, it is probably not the greatest feeling in the world, so I tell her to wait there as I blink into the bathroom to get a warm washcloth to clean her off with.

After all that is taken care of, we settle into bed. She feels so good snuggled up next to me, her body warm next to mine, and I breathe in the scent of her strawberry-infused hair that I have been missing so much. I love how soft her skin is and I can’t stop running my hands up and down her arm and hip as I pull her in closer, her back flush with my chest.

We are quiet for a while, just comfortable in the silence until I speak up. There’s so much I want to tell her, and I’m not even sure where to start.

“You know, for years I would dream about this. About having someone to fall asleep with and wake up with.”

“What about Dolores?”

“I loved Dolores with all my heart, and I will always love her. But there were many nights, after she fell asleep, that I would allow myself to think about what it would be like to have someone that could kiss or hug me back. To touch me at all, really. That’s probably why I liked reading all of those romance novels. There wasn’t a lot of physical love in my house growing up, and then there was only Dolores. My two sources for any affection in my life came from my robot mother and my mannequin wife.”

I let out a small laugh at that, but she doesn’t return it. Instead, she just squeezes my hand and pulls my arms tighter around her. She waits for me to keep going.

“So, those books were the only reference I had for real love. And I wanted that for so long. After a while, though, I just stopped thinking about it. Because I knew it was never going to happen. It was all just a made-up fantasy.”

“I’m so sorry, Five,” she says quietly.

“Don’t be. All of that made me into the fully functioning and mentally stable man you know and love today.”

At that, she does laugh. “You are one of a kind, Five, that’s for sure.”

“That’s another thing,” I start as I rub my cheek against her hair. “Are you sure you’re ok with…you know…my situation?”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, by my rusty mental math, I am technically more than double your age.”

She’s silent for a minute and I think maybe she really is re-thinking this whole thing. “I know that. I don’t care.”

“Are you sure? Because it’s not going to get any better, you know. I’m just going to keep getting older and crankier. Pretty soon, I’m going to want to eat dinner at 4 pm and bitch about my expired grocery coupons.”

She giggles. “I don’t think you can get any crankier than you already are, so I don’t have to worry about that. And the rest I can deal with.” She flips over so she’s looking at me. She threads her fingers into my hair at the back of my neck and I close my eyes at her touch. “I love you because of, not in spite of, all of that. I love you for all that you are, Five. Even the cranky, old man parts.”

When she kisses me, it’s the softest, most loving kiss I have ever felt and I want to melt into her. “With you, I get the best of both worlds. Hot young guy with the mature mind and life experiences of an older man. What’s not to love?”

I lean in for another kiss, and when she breaks away from it, she gives me a little smile. “Besides, as long as you keep fucking me like you’ve been, I don’t care if you’re sixty or six hundred years old.”

She throws her leg over my hip and I shake my head with a smile. “Honey, I really don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“I can tell,” she says before pushing harder against me and kissing me again.

The next morning, after one of the best sleeps of my life, I wake up to the smell of freshly roasted coffee and a soft kiss on my cheek. When I open my eyes, there’s my girl, standing over me and setting a tray down on the table next to the bed. I barely notice the coffee cups with their fragrant steam drifting out of the tops, because I can’t take my eyes off of her. I must be having one hell of a dream right now because she’s wearing one of my t-shirts with nothing else on except a pair of cotton panties adorned with little pink cats. When I smile blearily up at her, still in the process of fully waking, she laughs at me.

“What?” I ask, as I try and haul myself up to a sitting position.

“Your hair. It’s sticking up everywhere. You look like you stuck your finger in a light socket.”

I frown and pat my hand on top of my head, feeling the rat’s nest that’s there. “Give me a break, ok? I just had a pretty wild night. Some crazy woman kept trying to maul me all night long.”

She presses her lips together in an effort not to laugh. “Well, I can hardly blame her. Have you seen yourself with no clothes on? Kind of ridiculous to expect to be left alone.”

“Come here, crazy,” I say as I reach out and yank her towards me by her hand.

She lands sideways on my lap and I kiss her while she attempts to smooth my hair into place. “I brought you some coffee,” she tells me after I let her up for air.

“Thank you, love. Although that hardly seems fair that you’re serving me coffee. Don’t you have to work today?”

She shakes her head. “I was supposed to, but I asked my boss and she said I should stay here today, instead.”

I reach for one of the mugs of coffee and hand it to her before taking my own. “Your boss sounds very smart.” When she giggles at that, I run a hand over her bare thigh and give it a squeeze. “Especially since you’re wearing these little cat panties I love so much. I was hoping I’d get to see these again.

She makes a little face over her coffee mug. “What do you mean, again?”

I take a drink from my own mug and give her a crooked smile. “You already gave me a nice little show in them before. Although I definitely prefer you wearing my shirt over them instead of my brother’s.”

“What…wait…you remember that? You were wasted drunk!”

I roll my eyes at her. “No amount of alcohol would let me forget you standing half-naked in my doorway trying to look mad but not really succeeding.”

She scoffs at me. “I was mad! You were being obnoxious!”

“Right. And you weren’t being obnoxious when you decided to put on that little vocally-driven performance right afterward?”

That makes her break and laugh, and she leans in to give me a kiss. “You know why I did that, right?”

“To torture me until I considered stabbing a pencil into my ears?” I deadpan.

“No…” she smirks. “For one, I wanted to piss you off and make you jealous. Show you what you were missing out on.”

“Uh-huh…well mission accomplished.”

“And two, well, there was a reason I was acting much more spirited than usual.”

“Spirited? It sounded like you were possessed.”

She runs a hand down my chest. “Maybe I was thinking of someone else at the time.”

I like where this is going and I raise my eyebrows before taking a sip of my coffee. “Go on. I like the turn this story is taking.”

“Well, I won’t go into detail, but just know that all of those noises you heard, were caused by you.”

I set my mug down and then grab hers to do the same. With my hands free, I pull her closer to me while I slip a finger into the waistband of her underwear and snap it against her skin.

“Naughty girl,” I murmur before kissing her hard on the mouth.

“Maybe so,” she says when she pulls away, “But, I’m willing to bet that gave you some nice material to use for a few lonely nights?”

When I pull her by her hips over my lap, there is no way she is missing the growing hard-on I’ve got going on under the sheets. “Baby, you have no idea how much material that gave me.”

Before I can get too involved with my roaming hands and mouth, she stops me by pulling back. My eyebrows crease together and my lips form a tight line with annoyance. I don’t like not being able to indulge in an early morning bone session at the moment. Especially when she’s sitting here, grinding her tight little ass against said bone.

“Before you get too carried away, and before you start pouting any more than you already are, I have to show you something.”

“Is it under your panties?”

She sighs and rolls her eyes at me. “No.” Then she reaches over and takes something off the tray. She hands me a book and when I look at it, I see it’s the book we read together. Love In The Time Of Cholera. And it’s not just any copy, it’s my exact one.

I look up at her in surprise. “This is mine! I’ve been looking everywhere for it. I thought I lost it when I moved.”

She shrugs and smiles shyly. “I may have stolen it from your room before.”

“You stole it from me?”

“Kind of. After we were done reading it, I put it in my bag because I wanted to take it home to reread it again. And I meant to tell you and bring it back when I was done. But then you decided to be the world’s biggest asshole…”

“Yeah, I know that part, we don’t need to rehash that again.”

“Well, anyway, I forgot it was in there and I left with it. So, there it has stayed, in my bag for the past six months. Which is how it ended up here again because I brought my bag with me when I left work last night.”

I turn the book over in my hands and smile. “I love this book. For obvious reasons.”

“So…will you read to me?” she asks, just like she did before, with the big eyes and the pouty lip.

“You want me to read this again? Are you sure? Because there are a lot of other things I can think of that we could be doing right here, right now, in this bed.”

She shakes her head, and then climbs off my lap, taking her coffee cup, and then snuggling up next to me under the covers. “I want to lie right here next to you, all warm and cozy, while you read our book to me with that super sexy voice of yours.”

I smile and kiss her forehead. “Well, when you flatter me like that, how can I resist?” I start to settle in and open the book. “And then…”

She sighs. “Yes, and then you may use me to take care of that giant bed snake I felt stabbing me in the leg just now.”

“I’m going to remember you said ‘giant’, by the way.”

“Just read the damn book, Five.”

“Yes, my darling. Anything for you.”

Chapter Nine: Hey Daddy

“Five!” you yell from the bedroom, as you’re on your hands and knees, frantically searching under the bed. “Where are my shoes?”

You hear his voice from the other room. “How the hell do I know?”

“Well, can you come here and help me look for them? I’m going to be late!”

After a few seconds, Five comes striding casually into the room, holding out a pair of strappy black heels that are dangling from his fingers. “Looking for these?”

“Oh! Yes, thank you! Where were they?”

“One was on the kitchen counter and the other was lying on the sofa.”

You give an exasperated sigh as you start tugging them onto your feet, using Five’s shoulder to steady yourself so you don’t tip over. “How in the world…I am a walking disaster this morning!”

When you get your shoes on, you straighten up and tug your clothes down, then you smooth your hair. Your nerves and scattered brain are obvious and Five grabs your hands in his. You can see he’s trying not to laugh at you.

“Hey, everything is going to be fine. You’re supposed to be having fun. It’s a celebration, remember? Not a tax audit.”

You give him a strained smile and you’re dying to start picking at your fingernails, but he’s got your hands held tight. “I know, but there’s just so much to do. I have to make sure all of the food is there, and the gifts for my staff and the music…” Five gives your hands a squeeze when he sees you starting to panic again.

“You’ve gone over everything a million times, it’s all done. All you have to do now is show up, be your delightful, albeit slightly neurotic self, and celebrate your one-year anniversary of ownership.”

“You’re right,” you sigh.

“As always.”

You give him an irritated look at his response, but you only receive a smirk in return. Then he leans in to kiss you and suddenly you feel a little more relaxed.

“You’re going to come by later?” you ask him.

“Absolutely. I want to hear you make your big speech, and also snag some of that good champagne we bought. I can’t let all of that go to waste on the riff-raff over there.”

“They are not riff-raff, they are my loyal customers.”

“If Klaus is there, they are riff-raff.”

You laugh. “That’s true. He said he was coming and bringing friends.”

“See?”

“Well, anyway, don’t be late. What are you doing before then?”

“Going to visit Leroy and Mr. Featherbottom the Third. They’ll be expecting me.”

After a deep sigh and a look up, while you mutter under your breath, you look back at Five. “You’re naming them now?”

“Well, not all of them, that’s ridiculous. Just the frequent flyers.” A giant grin spreads across his face. “Get it?”

“Oh, I get it alright. I get that my boyfriend is a certifiable nutcase and is starting to name pigeons at the park.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“I’m jealous of some dirty old pigeons?”

“Yes. You’re jealous because I have to split my time between you and my feathered friends and you can’t handle the competition.”

You let out another frustrated sigh, but your exterior is starting to crack and you can’t help smiling as you pull your hands away from his and put them on his shoulders. “I can assure you, my sexy old man, that I am not jealous. Because if I were, that would mean you’d be doing something much weirder with those birds than feeding them in the park, and if that’s the case we need to have a long talk. And I don’t have time for that right now.”

He gives your cheeks a squeeze and kisses you on the mouth. “I promise you are the only one, human or non-human, that I am doing weird things with.”

“Glad to hear it. Now, I need to get going, so tell Mr. Featherbutt…”

“Bottom.”

“Whatever…tell him I said hi and I’ll see you later today, ok?”

“I’ll be there.”

You start looking around the room. “Now where the hell are my car keys, I know I just had them.”

Five fishes around in his pants pocket and pulls out your keys, holding them up in front of you with that know-it-all look of his.

“Damn it! Where were they?” you ask as you snatch them out of his hand.

“In the dishwasher.”

“In the dish…what in the hell is wrong with me today?”

Five shakes his head. “I’m not sure, but you are so damn cute, you know that?”

You give him a hasty kiss on the cheek and then you’re hurrying out the door. “Yes, I know I am, but thank you for reminding me. Love you!”

The anniversary party for your café has been planned for weeks. You never had a grand opening celebration, since you had just taken it over from the previous owner, but you decided you needed to mark the occasion somehow. Five had helped you with the planning, which ended up being extremely helpful and annoying at the same time. As it turns out, which was not a huge surprise, an uptight man with attention to detail and a lot of spare time on his hands can be a bit much. But he really did take care of a good portion of it, so you were very thankful in the end.

On your drive in to work, you let your mind wander and start thinking about how happy you are at this point in your life. Your business is profitable, you have a good staff that likes and respects you, and you are no longer lonely. Only a few weeks after your reunion, you had moved in with Five. Everyone you had told at the time had thought you were crazy and moving way too fast, but you knew deep down that it was the right choice. You two were happy together and neither of you were going anywhere. So, it just made sense.

Now it was six months later and you had never been so in love. He had not broken his promise of making sure you were always taken care of and he did everything in his power to make you happy. Not that you needed much. You made sure he was content with your life together, too. And even though his old man tendencies sometimes tried your patience, you were happy if he was happy. The amazing sex was an added bonus.

The party was supposed to be an all-day event, with free coffee, music, and glasses of champagne for every customer. Then, you were going to close early and have the party continue for just your staff. They were as much of a part of the success of your business as you were, and you want them to feel appreciated. The staff party was when Five was supposed to drop by.

The event goes well and when Five does walk in, you catch him out of the corner of your eye while you’re deep in conversation with someone. You are drawn immediately out of it, though, when you do a double take as he stands across the room, watching you and waiting for you to finish. You’re pretty sure your jaw drops open and you feel your heart start to beat faster.

“Holy shit,” you mutter to yourself as you rudely blow off the person you are talking to and start heading in Five’s direction.

He is dressed impeccably in a black, three-piece, tailored suit and black tie. His hair has been freshly cut and combed neatly into place. And he smells amazing. For a second, all you can do is stare and you feel like you’re back in the apartment when you were dating Klaus and you were eyeing him up from afar, imagining dirty scenarios about the two of you. Then you snap out of it and remember he’s yours now, even if you still find yourself imagining dirty scenarios.

You run the palms of your hands down the front of his suit coat and down to his waist before bringing them up again, grabbing his tie and smoothing it down.

“Hey, Daddy,” you say quietly while looking up at him hungrily.

When he draws a line down your cheek with the back of his finger, you shiver. “Hello, darling.” He places a hand on your chin and raises your face up before leaning down to kiss you sensually. You hope the sound you made wasn’t audible by anyone else because it is embarrassingly pathetic. Five pulls back with a satisfied smirk because he knows he looks fucking good and that you’re weak in the knees for him right now.

“Are you feeling alright, sweetheart?” he asks like the giant asshole he is.

“You look amazing…and I think you know it.”

Five shrugs and puts his hands in his pants pockets, which only accentuates the lean lines of his body even more. He looks around cooly and then back at you. “Thank you, but I was just trying to clean up a little for your special occasion. I didn’t want to come in here looking like a bum.”

“I don’t think it’s possible for you to look like a bum, but you most definitely went above and beyond with this suit.” You can’t help but run your hands down his chest again. “Damn it, Five, this isn’t fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

You look around to make sure no one is close enough to hear you. “How badly I want to take you into the back room so you can fuck me against a wall right now.”

He laughs. “Since I know you want to remain professional at the moment, how about this? I will most definitely fuck you against any wall you wish once we get home later tonight.”

“I can live with that, I suppose. I just want you to know, though, that you are the hottest man in here by a mile and I have already seen at least two women checking you out.”

“Is that so?” he asks with a quirk of his brow. He looks around the room. “Which ones?”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, your hotness factor is starting to diminish now.”

“Yours hasn’t,” he tells you before kissing you again.

Just then, Klaus enters the shop. You can see he has dressed for the occasion as well, with fitted red velvet pants that flare at the bottom and a flowy green shirt that is halfway unbuttoned down the front. It should be a hideous outfit, but Klaus makes it look good. You can already see a few people eyeing him up. When he sees you and Five, he makes his way over.

“Hey there,” he says as he saunters up. “Well, don’t you two look adorable? Kind of makes me nostalgic for the good old days, if you know what I’m saying.”

Klaus leans in to give you a quick kiss and Five scowls at him. “Watch it.”

Klaus puts a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “My dear brother, have no fear. I wasn’t suggesting anything lewd between me and your lady love.” He pauses and smiles while looking Five up and down. “You are most definitely included in the equation, too, you sexy bastard.”

Five gives an exacerbated huff. “Klaus, you’re disgusting.”

“Why thank you!” Klaus turns to look at you. “Great job, by the way, I’m very proud of you.”

“Thanks, Klaus,” you say.

“Now, I heard there was booze here?”

You laugh. “Yes, the champagne is over there. Help yourself.”

“I shall,” Klaus replies as he floats away in the direction of the table loaded with flutes of sparkling wine. You watch as one of your employees immediately rushes over to him, and within thirty seconds Klaus already has his arm around the lucky man. You laugh and shake your head. He really does have a way of charming everyone he meets.

After a few more minutes, you make sure everyone has a glass and you take one for yourself before you head to the front of the room, facing the small crowd of coworkers and friends. Klaus and his new boy toy go over to stand next to Five.

“Excuse me, everyone?” you start, gathering the group’s attention until the room is quiet and all eyes are on you. You suddenly feel very nervous, even though all of these people are close to you and they feel like family. Your gaze drifts to Five standing at the back of the room, and he gives you an encouraging smile.

“I just had a few brief words to say about marking this one-year anniversary of the café. I want to thank every single person in this room for all of their hard work and dedication. Without you, we would not be the success we have become today. I love my job and I love my staff, which is much more than most people can say about their work. You are all truly wonderful and I cannot thank you enough.”

Everyone claps at that and when the noise dies down again, you continue on.

“I also need to thank someone else, and that is my very supportive, yet mildly abrasive boyfriend.” When you see Five react with surprise, you smile. “Five, you are truly the love of my life and I owe a lot of my success to you, too. You make me a more confident person and I always know that you will have my back. Plus, I have become pretty good at conflict resolution because of you, since living with you every day has its definite conflicts.”

You laugh when he gives you an exhausted look. “But I wouldn’t change any of it, because you are my rock and I love you so much. Thank you for loving me back.”

There is a chorus of “aws” throughout the room. Five has a combined expression of embarrassment, pride, and love on his face. You watch as Klaus nudges him with his shoulder in a fond gesture.

You continue on with a smile. “Because I love you so much, I was trying to think of a new name for the place that would be a little tribute to you. The obvious name would be ‘Cholera and Coffee’, but I have a feeling that would not be good for business.” Everyone laughs, including Five. “Then I thought of ‘Bean My Baby’, since I know that’s your favorite song.” Five raises an eyebrow at you. “Then it was ‘The Old Man And The Tea’, but that was too long.”

“In the end, I decided on ‘Books, Love, and Coffee’, because you don’t know this yet, but I am going to add a small library of classic romance books to the store so that customers can sit and enjoy their drinks while they read about love. And hopefully, it will inspire them to find someone perfect for themselves, just like we have done.”

You can see Five get a little misty-eyed after you say that, and you have to control your happy tears, as well. After you finish your little speech with a toast to everyone, you go back over to Five where he immediately pulls you in close with an arm around your waist. He kisses you softly and looks deeply into your eyes.

“The Old Man And The Tea? Really?” he says dryly.

You laugh. “Come on, you have to admit that’s funny.”

“It’s not.”

You squeeze his cheeks in with your hand, just like he had done to you earlier and you plant a big kiss on his lips. “My grumpy old man…I love you.”

He tries to look irritated, but that makes his face squish together even more, which gets you giggling again before you let go.

“I love you, too. Against my better judgment,” he says.

“So, what do you think of my new idea with the library?”

“I think it’s great. I know you’ll make it work and it will draw more people in.”

“I might need your help with some logistical things.”

“I’d be happy to help, you know that. I’m always here for you.”

“I know that,” you smile. Then your eyes travel down his body again and suddenly you’re not thinking about the café anymore. You kind of wish everyone else would get the fuck out so he could pound you into one of the tables, health code violation be damned.

“We need to get home soon,” you tell him with a hand on his chest. “I can’t keep looking at you in this suit without having some very inappropriate thoughts.”

Five smirks and pulls you in closer, his hand rubbing up and down your back, making your skin tingle. “Yes, we do need to get home. I’m going to need details of these inappropriate thoughts and then we can work on making them happen.”

When you two arrive back home, it’s late and you’re exhausted. You kick off your heels in the middle of the living room, prompting Five to pick them up with a heavy sigh and place them neatly near the door.

“I need to shower,” you tell him.

His mouth turns up in a mischievous smile. “Is that an invitation?”

“I’ll let you decide.”

Once you are in the shower and you have washed the grime of the day off of you, you start to wonder if Five is going to join you in there after all. You are just about to turn the water off and step out when you shriek loudly as your body is forced flat against the tile wall. Five is behind you, his body pressed against yours and his lips on the damp skin of your neck.

“What took you so long?” you say as you try to catch your breath.

“I was torturing myself by seeing how long I could hold out before blinking in here to violate you. Turns out, it’s really not that long.”

“Felt like a long time to me.”

“Sweetheart, how many times do I have to tell you…just ask for what you want and I’ll give it to you,” he murmurs against you.

His hands drift down your arms, encircling your wrists to hold them tightly. He’s in complete control of you, trapping you between the wall and his body, your arms pinned to your side. You turn your head and look over your shoulder as best you can. His gaze catches yours and he grins.

“Lucky for you, I happen to know exactly what you want right now.”

“Oh, do you? And what’s that?” you answer back with as much sass as you can manage with your face smashed against the wall.

You feel the heat of his mouth against your wet and rapidly cooling shoulder. He licks up the water droplets that cover it and you can feel his teeth scrape lightly across your skin. You don’t think you will ever get tired of feeling his mouth on you and right now you would let him do just about anything without hesitation. And you have no doubt that he does know exactly what you want right now.

His voice is dark and husky as he speaks next to your ear. “You want me to make you helpless. You want to be fucked hard and rough until you can’t take it anymore.” He pauses to push his hard cock against your ass. “You need me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you whimper, and maybe you sound a little pathetic but you know he likes it.

Taking your wrists, he roughly yanks them over your head and pins them to the wall. “Beg me,” he demands, and the hardness in his voice sends shivers down your spine. “Beg me to fuck you. I want to hear it.”

“Please,” you whine.

He takes your wrists and pulls them away from the wall before slamming them against the tile again. You notice that he keeps his hands around you in such a way that you don’t get hurt by the impact.

“You want to try that again, princess?” he hisses, before biting the side of your neck with enough force to make you flinch.

“Please, Five…I need you.”

“Keep going. Beg for my cock.”

He starts pushing against you harder, and your tits are smashed into the wall almost to the point of pain. But the feeling of him behind you, grinding his hard cock against your ass is making you so damn wet that it hardly matters what the rest of your body is doing.

You give out a little cry and try and push your ass back into him, but he’s stronger than you and there’s no way you can move. “Please, Five, please. I need you to fuck me.”

Five reaches over and grabs some soap off the shower shelf. He holds onto your wrists with one hand, using plenty of his strength to keep you there. You feel his soapy hand drag between your cheeks, his finger stopping and rubbing over your tight hole, dipping just a little inside before pulling back again. Then he is sliding his dick between your ass cheeks, pumping it back and forth with a long groan.

“God, I could come just from this,” he rasps before biting and sucking at your shoulder again, his hips jerking and snapping against you from behind.

“No…” you whimper sadly. You would much rather him come somewhere else.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” He slams his cock against you, the soap making it slide easily between your cheeks, rubbing over your hole. “You don’t want me to come like this? I thought you loved it when I cover that beautiful ass of yours with my cum.” His voice changes from sweet to menacing in a second and his hold on your wrists tightens, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of the underside.

He doesn’t demand an answer from you this time. Instead, he asks you another question. “Tell me, darling…who else fucks you like I do? Who else makes you scream?”

“No one,” you moan out, louder than you meant to. You’re so desperate and you don’t care how pitiful you’re becoming just from some dirty words and a dick pressed against you. “Only you, Five.”

His self-satisfied smirk is evident against your shoulder as he passes his lips over one and then moves to the other. He’s teasing you mercilessly as your pussy gets slicker with each second.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing that,” he muses.

He lets your wrists go, but it’s only so that he can grab your upper arms and spin you around so that you are facing him. His eyes are dark, and the spray from the water has dampened his hair. He takes one hand briefly off of you to slick it back off his forehead before he has you in his full grip again, your back flush against the wall. When he rubs his dick between your legs, you moan and close your eyes.

He suddenly drops to his knees in front of you, and there’s no time to react because he’s moved his hands to your wrists again. Once again, your arms are pinned against the wall. Five looks up at you with feral eyes.

He keeps his intense gaze on you, even as he gives a long, slow lick through your throbbing heat. The sound that comes out of your mouth is high-pitched and desperate as you jerk your hips into him.

“Ohhh…Five…”

He doesn’t give you anymore just yet but makes you sweat it out while he kneels before you and watches your face.

“Did you like that, baby? Want more?”

“Yes, fuck yes I want more!”

He gives one more long lick up through the middle and then he stops just like before, leaving you desperate. You push your hips into him again, but he pulls his head back just enough that you can’t make contact.

“I could do this all day; you taste so fucking good. Maybe I will,” he teases with a dirty smile before diving back in again for another long, single lick.

“Ohh…god…please, Fiiive…” You can barely stutter out a coherent sentence you’re aching so badly for him.

“I love hearing you beg for me. Fuck, that turns me on.” He runs his tongue over you again, one time. “Keep going, sweetheart.”

“Fuuck…Five, you’re not being fair.”

“Oh, I’m aware.” Another single lap wets your already-soaked sex as he drags his tongue over it. “But I really do like watching you squirm like this.” He licks you again. “And let’s not forget who’s in charge here. So, if I want to make you wait, I guess you’re waiting. Isn’t that right, darling?”

You tip your head back against the wall with a frustrated sigh. “Yes.”

Five resumes his torture for several more minutes, one agonizing lick at a time. He continues to hold your arms down and any time you try to push yourself into his face, he backs off. You’re dying to come, but he won’t let you, and the more he makes you wait, the more he gets off on it.

When you’re absolutely sure you’re going to die from lack of sexual satisfaction, and the water has run cold so that your skin is covered in goosebumps, he finally relents.

“I think I’ve made you wait long enough. What do you think? You want to come on my mouth or my dick?” he asks with a crooked smile.

Your chest is heaving and you try to answer the best you can in between gasping breaths. “Fuck…I don’t care…just…fuck me!” You’re practically screaming you’re so desperate.

“I think both,” he says, right before he covers your cunt with his entire mouth.

It hardly takes anything at all. As soon as he is sucking at your clit and tongue fucking your pussy, you are falling apart. This time he doesn’t stop when you’re bucking wildly against his face as your orgasm ripples throughout your body, but he does keep your arms restrained. Your cries are echoing off the shower walls and throughout the whole apartment. If the neighbors didn’t know Five’s name before, they sure as hell do now.

“Oh, fuck…oh fuck…oh my god…” you pant as you try to compose yourself just a little after your body stops shaking.

Five pulls away from you and stands up, letting go of your wrists as he gives you another direction.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he growls, before picking up one of your legs and wrapping it around his hip. He pushes his cock into you with one deep thrust. “I’d hang on if I were you.”

With that warning, he’s pounding into you hard and fast as you scramble for purchase on the slick shower floor with your one foot, grasping onto his shoulders for support. Your back is being slammed against the wall as he uses all of his strength to fuck you as hard as possible.

“I…fucking…love…you,” he tells you in between his grunts and groans.

You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, even as he is currently trying to destroy your body and smash it into a million pieces.

“Five, I love you,” you tell him as you’re hungrily trying to kiss him more and more.

You’re going to come again, you can feel it building inside of you, as he continues to penetrate you over and over again. He has one hand on your leg, holding you up, while the other is in your hair, alternating between pulling and stroking it.

Five is moaning as he talks to you. “Fuck, you feel amazing. I’ll never love anyone like I love you. Please, don’t ever leave. Ah fuck! Damn it, I’m going to marry you!”

It’s maybe not the best time for him to be confessing his undying love and proposing to you, but it doesn’t matter. You lock eyes with one another and you smile before you kiss him again. A few seconds later, you’re climaxing together, clutching onto one another, both of you wet, cold, and shivering. As soon as you are both finished, and he lets your leg down, Five reaches over and turns the water off. Without the sound of the shower going, it feels intimately quiet. You are still shaking from the cold and having just had two back-to-back orgasms when Five helps you step out and wraps a towel around your body. Then he pulls you in close again, holding you tight.

“I’m sorry, I know that was probably not—"

“My answer is yes, by the way. I know you didn’t actually ask me, but if you do, my answer will be yes.”

The smile that he flashes you is so full of love that it makes you want to melt into the bathroom rug at your feet. “Alright then. Will you marry me?”

“Yes, Five, I will marry you. I love you more than anything.”

Five lifts you up so that your feet are off the ground and he kisses you again. “I promise, I will give you everything you deserve.”

“I’m not even sure I deserve you, but I’m so lucky I have you. You make me happy every day.”

“Good. Because I plan on doing that for the rest of our lives.”

It is three months later and you are at home by yourself. Five has been out with his family most of the day. You know this usually pisses him off like nothing else, and he will most likely return in a foul mood. You don’t mind, though; you are used to dealing with his mood swings. The only difference today is that you can hardly wait until he gets home.

You can’t sit still and keep trying to sit down, only to pop up seconds later to do some mundane task like dusting the baseboards or scrubbing out the kitchen sink even though it was already clean. You really hope he gets home soon because you are majorly on edge and you feel like your brain is going a mile a minute, with a constant whir of thoughts and emotions running through it.

You are standing in the kitchen, wiping down the counters for the tenth time when you hear him appear inside the doorway with the familiar supernatural noise that you’ve come to associate with Five’s preferred form of transportation. And, as predicted, you can already hear him bitching and complaining to himself or anyone else that may be in the general vicinity.

When you walk out to the living room to find him, he is striding over to the liquor cabinet that resides there, taking out a crystal tumbler and filling it with a generous pour of bourbon. You watch as he slings some of it back with a grimace before looking over at you. He gives a tight smile, but you can tell he’s all wound up.

“These fucking morons! I swear, they get dumber by the day. Is it really that difficult to download the spreadsheets and charts that I have sent them all in preparation for our meeting today? And, per their request, I kept it under ten this time!”

He’s ranting in your general direction and you have to hold in your laughter so he doesn’t get even more pissed off. You perch yourself on the arm of one of the chairs.

“It’s really astounding the amount of stupidity they possess as individuals and as a group. I really don’t know why I waste my time on them.”

“Because you love them,” you offer matter-of-factly with a small smile.

Five scoffs in frustration, but he doesn’t deny it and seems to have stopped dwelling on the subject now. He takes another sip of his drink and when he lowers the glass, he manages a genuine smile.

“Sorry, this has nothing to do with you, really. I just needed to vent to someone.”

“I know. I’m used to being vented at by you.”

Five doesn’t comment on that, but he holds up his glass. “Do you want one?”

You shake your head and walk over to him. When you are standing in front of him, you can smell his usual scent of after-shave and general annoyance. You give him a kiss and you can immediately feel him start to morph into a normal, rational human again.

“How was your day, darling?” he asks after he kisses you back.

“It was good,” you say with a smile and a shrug.

“Nothing exciting happened, then?”

“Not really.” You reach up and give him another kiss. “But I did get some good news.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“Well, Daddy…I think we may need to move into a bigger apartment,” you say slyly while running a hand down his arm.

Five frowns and looks around. “Why? What’s wrong with this place?”

“You know, it’s kind of small, really only big enough for two people.”

Five is still looking at you with his eyebrows creased together and he takes another sip of his drink. “And last time I checked, we are only two people.”

You sigh but smile at him again. “Yes, we are right now. But what if there was another person here? Someone that we would love and take care of?”

“What do you mean?” Five puts his glass down and tilts his head. “Don’t tell me Klaus lost his apartment because he is not moving in here with us. I don’t care what sad story he told you. That is some history I do not need to repeat.”

“Christ,” you murmur under your breath, before trying again. “Listen very carefully, Five. Soon, it’s not going to be just the two of us. We’ll be a threesome.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and looks at you with what you like to call his ‘what the fuck’ face. “What are you talking about? Like a three-way? I don’t know, that’s pretty weird, and I’m not saying I never thought about it, of course, but…it still seems kind of awkward and where would we even meet a—”

“Jesus Fucking Crist, Five! For being a self-proclaimed genius, you are the densest person on the planet sometimes!” You run a hand down your face and try one more time, taking his hands and holding them tightly in yours. “Listen to my words. You are going to be a daddy. And not in the sexy way that you’re used to. Do you get it yet?”

He blinks down at you in confusion and you think you might need to resort to pulling up a PowerPoint presentation on the birds and bees when you see the lightbulb finally flick on. His eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead.

“Wait what? You’re…”

You smile and nod, squeezing his hands. “Yep, I’m pregnant. And I really hope you’re as excited about it as I am.”

Five brings his hands up to his face in disbelief and he nods. “Yes, yes, of course I’m excited. This is…I don’t even know what to say.”

You stand there for a few seconds while he processes everything. Then he suddenly grabs you and picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. He kisses you while your arms loop over his shoulders. When he pulls away, you can see the tears welling up in his eyes.

“I can’t believe this. Are you sure?”

You nod. “Yes, I’m very sure.”

He kisses you again and you start laughing just from the pure joy of the moment. There are actual tears running down Five’s face and you wipe them away with a gentle touch of your hand.

“You’re happy?” you ask.

He nods and smiles through his tears. “I’ve never been happier in my whole life. And I promise to love you and our child for the rest of my life. I’ll take care of both of you with everything I have.”

“I know you will, Five. Because that’s who you are. You take care of the people you love, even if you pretend to be an old grouch most of the time.”

“I am an old grouch, that’s true. However, I am willing to change and try to be a little less grouchy for the sake of our kid. And you.”

“Well, don’t change too much. I still want the same old man I fell in love with.”

Five kisses you and another tear slides down his cheek. “Sweetheart, I promise I will always be the same old man that you love. And you will always be the beautiful young woman who saw right through me and stole my heart with her relentless love and annoyance.”

“And I promise to always love and annoy you.”

He rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes with a happy sigh. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Thank you everyone for reading! If you'd like to check out my other, Five-centric fics, here is my MasterList :)

@baileebear @myinnermonologueisepic

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silveryclear · 11 months

Text

STNAF Coraline AU

MDNI ALL CONTENT REGARDING STNAF IS 18+ AND SO IS THIS BLOG

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Pairings: Normal Friend/ GN Reader | Other Friend/ GN Reader | Carter/GN Reader

CW: NSFW, manipulation, kidnapping, torture, sexual content, obsessive behavior

A/N: Yes, this is what I’ve been working on for the whole month of October. This is my first long fic and I’ll be posting the chapters daily. I hope y’all enjoy! Happy Halloween!

Around 4-5 chapters, three different endings (for each love interest)

Friend, Carter, Scrim belongs to @stnaf-vn

Art belongs to me

Chapter 1

“So… what do you think?”

Your best friend asks as he looks at you with excitement. You look up at the looming old manor in front of you, trying to find the right words to match his enthusiasm. However, you end up blurting out the first thing that pops into your head. “Pink. Very pink.”

He snorts in amusement. “Is that all?”

“Old.” You add.

Friend rolls his eyes playfully and moves behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Those are some amazing observation skills! Would our resident caveman like to tell us anything else?” He teases.

You laugh, feeling some of your initial uneasiness slowly reaching wash away with Friend’s humor. “Hungry.” You exclaim.

Friend smiles and you feel him gently push you into the large manor. “Then let us get settled in and we’ll order some pizza, my sweet Neanderthal~”

You let yourself get pushed into the manor whilst you do your best to keep your emotions in check, feeling your face heat up. The sweet tone he uses with you along with his soft touch and penchant for nicknames leave your heart beating in the tune of a bittersweet melody.

Friend goes to a lot of trips for his clothing line and sometimes you tag along. For a lot of the time, this is the only way you get to spend any time with your super busy friend. You put up with the long hours of traveling, jet lag and uncomfortable situations because not only is he your best friend since childhood, but you’re also very in love with him and have no way of telling him how you feel. Recently, though, it feels as if the gap between your two worlds has gotten bigger and you have no way of knowing how to close it. It seems like the more you try, the farther he slips from your grasp.

This time, you stay at an old manor called “The Pink Palace”, fairly near the city, but still hidden enough to feel like you have privacy. Friend was always a sucker for old fashioned houses and architecture so this was a way for him to keep his love alive while also doing his job.

You are currently sitting in a classy living room adorned by vintage decor with your best friend by your side, ready to watch a movie on the flat screen TV that looks very out of place.

You manage to take a peek of your best friend beside you and you begin to feel butterflies in your stomach. Moments like this when the two of you are alone are the ones you treasure the most. You feel as if you are the center of his world, with no distractions from his job and the modern world to come between the two of you. You hoped this would be the best time to admit your feelings for your best friend, but every time you tried, you’d get a wave of anxiety and mental images of your best friend rejecting you, making this trip awkward.

Suddenly, your phone buzzes, effectively snapping you out of your inner turmoil.

Carter: I could sense you chickening out from a mile away.

You roll your eyes at your college friend’s ability to know exactly what you are doing. How does he do that??

You: I’m just waiting for the right moment, okay?

Carter: No, you’re waiting for the last possible moment and torturing yourself. Drag this out, and you’ll be the “best man” on his wedding day.

You: …

The thought made your stomach churn and you write back quick.

You: It won’t come to that! I swear I’m telling him this time. No take backs.

Carter: Good. You can do this. 👍

You chuckle.

You: Thanks, Carter. I’ll let you know how it goes.

The movie keeps playing as you work up the courage to finally tell him how you feel. You take a deep breath and open your mouth… and his work phone rings. You sigh. Another confession thwarted.

Friend looks at you apologetically. “I’m sorry I’m doing this during movie night. I promise I’ll make it up to you when I’m done with work, okay?” He kisses the top of your head and leaves in a flash, right before you barely have time to register your own fluster.

You sigh. Alone again. You don’t want to get in between him and his work, but it feels like it gets in between the only time the two of you get together. Even now, the reason you both are staying in this palace is because of work. You don’t mean to be ungrateful, but when will you be a priority?

A bolt of lightning strikes near and shakes the manor slightly, making you jump. Rain starts to pour in buckets and you chuckle dryly as you think that even the universe knows what you’re going through.

“This sucks.” You mutter, before getting on your feet and walking around the palace, exploring the multiple rooms available. You try to push your feelings for Friend and your thoughts of loneliness away while you observe your surroundings, taking in the grand building in which you’re currently staying in.

This place would almost seem isolating and scary to you if it wasn’t for the fact that it was very… pink. Or at the very least, tried to include the color in every place that it could. No wonder Friend loved this place so much.

“I wonder if something like this is where he’d like to settle down and have a family.” You blush and shake your head.

You’re getting too ahead of yourself… you haven’t even confessed!

Not paying attention, you walk into a room that looks different from the rest of the house. For one, it doesn’t have an ounce of pink. And the color motif are the primary colors, along with the color black. It sounds strange, but in person, it actually looks cohesive. A jar of buttons sat on the dresser along with many sewing materials. The room seemed to reflect this craft as you noticed that buttons where everywhere around you. Your attention is quickly robbed by the most adorable bunny plushie you have ever seen! It has cute little button eyes and it’s so soft and fluffy to the touch, you can’t help but squeeze and nuzzle into it.

You giggle softly, feeling much better now than you were before. You decide to take the plushie just during this trip since you’re the only person in the palace. No one else will miss it.

You go back to the living room to finish the movie by yourself along with your little plushie. And maybe a bottle of vodka you found in the back of a cupboard. The two of you watch the movie while you drink who knows how much, before you feel yourself begin to drift off.

A loud clap of thunder wakes you up suddenly. Lifting your head off the couch and wiping away some of the drool on your chin, you groan and massage your temples gently, doing your best to ward off the hangover that is slowly creeping up to you. You notice the credits of the movie are playing so you grab the remote and turn it off. You had fallen asleep in the middle of it. You begin to snuggle back into the couch again only to realize your little fluffy friend is missing. You look everywhere around you but it’s nowhere to be found. Strange.

You go back into the strange room and you find the rabbit sticking out from underneath the bed. You must’ve imagined you took it with you and you actually dropped it. When you go to pick it up, you notice something weird on the other wall as you peek from under the bed. You stand up again and walk towards the wall where the wallpaper protruded in some areas, almost as if it was covering up something.

You take some scissors from the desk and you crouch down to cut along the dented areas of the wallpaper. You scoot back and look at what it’s revealed.

A tiny door. Just big enough for you to fit through. You try to pry it open but it’s locked. You rummage through the key drawer that Friend had showed You previously and one caught your eye. A black key with the shape of a button.

And with one flick of your wrist, the door is opened.

You debate whether you should go in alone in the middle of the night, but you’re too curious (and drunk) to ignore this great discovery.

“I hope I don’t find a rat’s nest at the end of this…”

You crawl through the surprisingly clean tunnel, lighting the way with your phone flashlight.

You reach the end and open the door to the other side to find…

The exact same room.

“What the hell? How did I end up in the same place?” You say out loud.

Suddenly, you noticed sounds coming from downstairs. You reach for the bunny plushie and the scissors and take them with you as you slowly stalk down the stairs.

You hear the muffled sounds of people talking and sound effects in the background and you figure the TV must be on. But you distinctly remember turning it off after the movie had ended…

You clutch the scissors tighter.

You walk into the living room, the lights and TV turned on, playing an old western movie. But you barely pay any attention to it as your gaze zeroes on the figure sitting on the couch, eating popcorn. You take a step forward, but to your luck, the wooden floor panel creaks oh so loudly.

The figure stiffens, most likely aware of your presence and you gulp, raising the scissors to attack the intruder. The figure cautiously turns around and every inch of hair on your body stands up.

Once he faces you, you freeze in shock. Is that..?

“Hey sweetheart~ I was just watching this while I waited for you. Ready for movie night~?” Friend smiles sweetly at you.

However, this Friend is dressed very differently from the one you’ve known your whole life. Also, he is blonde? And it looks good on him?? You curse his ability to look good in anything. But the thing that actually made you stop in your tracks and made your skin crawl were his eyes. Gone were the eyes full of life and wonder that often sucked you in when you gazed into them. In their place stood black buttons just like the ones on the plushie you’re clutching. They were piercing and unsettling to stare at. If it weren’t for the fact that the figure was moving and breathing right now, you’d most likely think he was a model made after your best friend. With some changes of course.

Your silence made this “Friend” tilt his head to the side and look at you with concern, or you figured it was. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I have no idea what I’m looking at right now…” You murmur, gaze unwavering from this doppelgänger.

“Friend” chuckles in amusement and grins at you. “I’m Friend, silly! You know, your best friend since forever?”

You raise an eyebrow, keeping the scissors clutched tightly in your hand. “I don’t know exactly what you’re playing at, but you are not Friend. Friend is not blonde, he doesn’t own clothes like yours and he definitely doesn’t have buttons for eyes.”

This so-called “Friend” grins wider, unsettling so, but quickly disappears into a charming expression. “What, can’t a person try out a new look without their best friend threatening them with a pair of scissors?” He teases.

You give him a deadpan stare.

He coughs. “What I mean to say is…” He stands up and walks around the couch, approaching you casually. You can only stare in slight fear into his soulless eyes as each step brings him closer to you. He stands in front of you and gives you a reassuring smile. “I’m your Other Friend!”

“My Other Friend? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like! I’m your friend from another world. A world filled with wonder where everyone has buttons for eyes!” He says with bright smile and a glint in his button eyes. His voice sounding like a cheery animated character.

You blink. “Oh man, I must’ve drunk more than I thought…”

He laughs in amusement. “Maybe so… but why not try to enjoy this while you can? I’ve got popcorn and your favorite snacks. Aaaand we can watch any movie you want~” He sweetens the deal.

You raise your eyebrow, intrigued. “Is the popcorn extra butter?”

His grin widens. “Of course! What kind of best friend would I be if it wasn’t?”

You narrow your eyes and give him a firm nod. Before he could even attempt to come closer you point a finger at him, your expression full of suspicion. “I’m staying because I’m not fully convinced this isn’t a dream—“ You let out a loud hiccup. “…And I’m too drunk to walk back up the stairs.”

Other Friend giggles. “I understand.”

“I’m keeping the scissors, so don’t try anything funny!” You exclaim, sluggishly making your way towards the couch, slumping down on it.

“Wouldn’t dream of it~” He chuckles before sitting on the couch next to you.

While watching the movie in your drunken haze, you fail to notice your Other Friend’s grin grow possessive as you clutch the plushie he had made just for your arrival~

Chapter 2

#yandere #fanfic #stnaf #yandere writing #yandere x reader #friend x reader #stnaf friend #stnafgame #yandere smut #carter x reader #coraline #coraline au

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 10 months

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Symbols I would be making sure were present (or adding) if I were producing the Six of Crows TV show

(Btw I’ve been writing my own script for a bit of fun since the cancellation news so if anyone wants to see that I’ll tag you, and the save S&B petition is also on my page if anyone wants the link)

EDIT: Sorry I should’ve put this I forgot; SA reference warning for the second point, nothing explicit but in talking about Inej’s experiences and the experiences of women in Greek mythology 🖤

FLOWERS. I want geraniums on the Exchange balcony from chapter 2 and I want reference to the geraniums at 19 Burstradt, I want Matthias the big brooding yellow tulip contrasted with the red tulips laid on his chest and in the water after his death, I want crocuses at the Hoede manor, I want jurda blossoms in Jesper’s flashbacks and maybe Kaz’s too (and probably crocuses in his), I want geraniums hidden all over the caravan and circus tent in Inej’s flashbacks, I want wild flowers in Wylan’s hands on the way to St Hilde’s that get discarded in the lobby, I want wisteria growing outside St Hilde’s, I want blue tulips painted on the floor tiles at St Hilde’s, I want white roses all over Nina’s room in Ketterdam and I want to hear the comment about how all the flowers at the White Rose are perfumed by hand, I want a cascade of geraniums falling all over Kaz and Inej as they tumble of Goedmed Bridge, I want lavish flower arrangements at the Menagerie accented by peacock feathers, I COULD TALK ABOUT THE FLOWER SYMBOLISM IN THESE BOOKS FOR YEARS I WANT IT NOTICED LET’S GO

BIRDS. I want crows, I want pigeons, I want nightingales (that one’s my personal addition but oh boy do I have reasons; Nightingales are a symbol of immortality in literature and could be painted on the tiles at St Hilde behind the wisteria for all the same symbolic reasons the wisteria’s there; in Greek mythology Philomela prayed to the gods to escape her Tereus, who had raped her and intended to kill her, and they turned her into a nightingale, representing freedom and imprisonment at the same time because she’d lost who she was so this wasn’t true freedom DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW BADLY I NEED A NIGHTINGALE TO CROSS THE SCREEN WHILST INEJ CONTEMPLATES HAVING COMMITTED MURDER AND HER PERSONAL MORAL AND RELIGIOUS IMPLICATIONS OF THAT!!?? I’m going crazy), I want more emphasis on the bird cage in Heleen’s office because in its three seconds of screen time in season one I was SOLD on how genius it was, I want peacocks EVERYWHERE, I want to be so committed to the birds vibe that we can start throwing in a whole load of new birds for other symbolism!! Let’s have owl symbolism around Wylan and Jesper, let’s have heavy emphasis on Nina as the little red bird, let’s talk about the nightingale again because I’m obsessed

KOMEDIE BRUTE. I have talked before about how I think the costumes each character wears are symbolic and directly linked to their arc but it was a long time ago and I updated it a few times based on replies so if anyone wants a full updated version of my thoughts on that lemme know, I also wrote a thing about how I think Mr Crimson could possibly be an omen of death so again if anyone’s interested let me know - I’ll either tag you or write a post fully involving all my Komedie Brute thoughts. I want Nina as the lost bride, Wylan and Inej in matching grey imp costumes, Kaz in the madman’s mask, Jesper and Matthias as Mr Crimson, all of them as Mr Crimson with a black tear in their masks, silver coins thrown all over the staves, costume shops on Ketterdam streets. I want Jackal masks and Drüskelle “costumes” in plain view on market stalls and in shop windows, and as an add on to that I want references to Nina’s fake Kefta being Kerch-made and uncomfortable to wear.

PURPLE. I want purple stadwatch uniforms, I want purple kruge notes, I want purple decor in the Geldrenner, I want purple silks in Inej’s flashbacks.

TREES. I want so many reminders that trees are sacred to Fjerdans!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This has already been done really well in the show but I would want to maintain it; I want to see Matthias praying when Wylan fells the tree before the Ice Court heist, I want his indignation over the relevance of the sacred ash tree, I want to see the look on Nina’s face when she realises Brum has walked her all the way around the sacred ash instead of crossing underneath it (at the time she thinks it’s because she’s pretending to be a prostitute but later we understand it’s because she’s Grisha and I know we couldn’t have had Nina’s internal thoughts in this scene even though I wish we could have but we can still have hints!!!)

SEALS AND STAMPS. I want to see a blue wax seal with a peacock feather pattern, a black seal with a crow, a pale green stamp for the bank, a purple stamp for government correspondence, I want a stack of letters with unbroken red seals with a laurel wreath crest hidden under Wylan’s mattress.

RELIGIOUS SYMBOLS. Ok there’s loads we could say here but specifically I want “rich as saints in crowns of gold” contrasted with “if it was worth anything Heleen would have taken it. But this is just a simple token of faith that my mother stitched”, I want the imagery of Ghezen contrasting the imagery of the Saints contrasting the imagery of Djel, and I so so badly want “Djel is the god of life, not death”

#someone save this show and then hire meeeeee #I have too many ideas #save shadow and bone #save six of crows #grishaverse #six of crows #crooked kingdom #leigh bardugo #inej ghafa #kaz brekker #nina zenik #jesper fahey #matthias helvar #wylan van eck #kanej #wesper #helnik

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ooihcnoiwlerh · 5 months

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Hello! I'm back with another chapter of my Feyd-Rautha/Reader arranged marriage series.

AO3 link here for full fic: And I Don't Want Your Heart - Chapter 5 - ooihcnoiwlerh - Dune (2021) [Archive of Our Own]

Side post that has some of my headcanons for how I interpret Feyd-Rautha's own relationship to his sexuality: Hello, Friend - So I've been working on a Feyd-Rautha/Reader... (tumblr.com)

This fic and this chapter are 18+ up only. Tags, content warning, and full chapter below the cut

Tags/CW list: rape/noncon; graphic depictions of violence; dubious consent; arranged marriage; forced pregnancy; nature versus nurture; implied/referenced child abuse; implied/referenced sexual assault; implied/referenced incest; first time; rough sex; oral sex; vaginal sex; vaginal fingering; blood kink; pain kink; sadomasochism; period sex; problematic smut; inappropriate misuse of BDSM; slow burn emotionally but the exact opposite of a slow burn phyiscally

CHAPTER FOUR: A BLOODY GASH

You're fertile. You’ve never had any reason to believe otherwise. This union is contingent on giving him children–at least one son, and as many attempts as necessary to get there ( and you desperately hope that you’ll only need that first one. You don’t want to raise a daughter in this place, amongst these people .)

So you’re horrified when you wake up the following morning to blood smeared between your legs, staining your chemise that rode up to your hips when you were sleeping, and leaving a smear on the sheets below when you move.

No. No. You pull up the hem of your chemise and stare at your inner thighs as if just looking will change the outcome. Feyd-Rautha came inside of you four times in two days for nothing . He’ll be furious. He’ll question your very biology. He’ll have you examined as thoroughly and cruelly as possible.

You scramble, trying to cover yourself, wondering what you can even do next when Idrisa comes in with fresh water and coffee.

To her credit, she doesn't drop the tray when her eye line goes directly to your bleeding crotch for the few seconds it’s still visible.

“I knew my time for it was coming up, I just didn't think it would,” you say to yourself as much as her and come to meet her gaze.

She glances back down out of respect, but the awkward tension hangs between the two of you for a moment.

“Do you…” you start, embarrassment flushing your face and neck, “do you have anything for it?” You have no idea how menstrual care even works on Geidi Prime. You’d just assumed that it wouldn’t be an issue for another ten months.

She composes herself again immediately. “Why yes, of course, Na-Baroness. I apologize for my negligence.” Before you can tell her there's nothing to apologize for, she adds, “I'll help you get cleaned up first.”

“That’s alright, I can do it,” you tell her as you wonder for a moment who she served before that she’d assume you want her to clean between your legs when you’re perfectly capable of doing it yourself.

She inclines her head further. “Thank you, Na-Baroness. I’ll be back in just a moment.”

As soon as she’s out the door you’re up and walking briskly to the bathroom.

You’ll need to have the sheets changed.

It’s only been two days, you think, washing between your legs. This doesn’t mean anything bad . When he asks for you, you can just explain the situation and try again in a few days. Until then…until then… For a moment you draw a blank, before remembering a conversation you had a few years ago with a slightly older friend when you asked her if husbands still desired their wives when their wives were bleeding.

“ They honestly just want something warm, soft, and wet to bury themselves in, ” she’d told you matter-of-factly. “ So most men just use their wife’s mouths .”

“ What do you mean? ” you’d asked, fairly certain you had an idea what she was talking about but still more willing to briefly embarrass yourself by asking than remain ignorant.

“ You know what goes on between a man’s legs, right? ” she’d asked in turn.

“ Of course ,” you’d said, a little offended that she’d think you so naive.

“ When you’re bleeding and he still wants you to please him, put your mouth there instead, ” she’d told you. “ Like he’s burying himself inside your mouth instead of your canal. You can’t make babies that way, of course, but they often don’t care about that . You can’t really make babies during your monthly courses anyway. ”

You wonder how she reacted when she found out who you’d be marrying. You never got the chance to ask and assume, like many young women and their parents, that she was relieved that she wasn’t the one hand-picked for him.

You also haven’t done that to him yet, nor any other man, for that matter, and you’re sure your lack of skill will show. How are you meant to take the entire thing in your mouth when you can barely fit it where it’s meant to go? What are you supposed to do with your teeth? It also just seems somehow more daunting and personal than just having inside of you in the traditional manner.

He’ll be aggressive with it, like he is in everything else.

You can’t stop thinking about it as you brush your teeth and hair and try to ignore the discomfort in your lower belly before you hear a click and the door to your quarters opening.

Idrisa’s back with a basket made of some kind of black synthetic material; it’s covered to protect its contents from passing view. You could kiss her for that, you think, and she starts unpacking.

She pulls out what look like thick handkerchiefs, going to your bathroom to stack them neatly on the countertop. She also hands you a canister that you open to find a handful of circular tablets.

“They’re not as strong as what I left for your wedding night,” she says, “and they won’t put you to sleep, but they should suffice if you need them.”

You’d chalked up your cramps to nerves but now that you have your answer the symptoms couldn’t have been more obvious. “Thank you, I think I will,” you tell her as you think about how you’ll likely be expected to join your new family, if one could call them that, for breakfast again. The thought makes you want to crawl back under the covers.

“Can you also please tell Feyd-Rautha that I apologize for missing breakfast but that I'm feeling unwell this morning and wouldn't want to be poor company in my condition?” you ask.

Idrisa hesitates, nervous. You realize that she's thinking, You know that your husband finds me far more disposable than he finds you, right? He could easily kill and replace me and no one would care. You also realize that she can’t and won’t say no to you. But just that look reminds you that as frightening as this fortress is to you, it’s much worse for her. You haven’t seen Feyd-Rautha kill outside of the arena yet, but you also barely know him; killing people who displease him over minor inconveniences, especially if they’re low-born and low-ranking, could be a common occurrence for him. The Harkonnens didn’t earn their reputation for nothing.

“Unless you think they won't notice if I’m even there,” you add, thinking. The Baron couldn't care less if he never has a conversation with you again, and outside of the marriage bed, Feyd-Rautha doesn't appear to have any real plans for you. “I could just…stay here and if Feyd-Rautha has any questions he can ask them.”

Idrisa’s shoulders had been locked and tense but appear to relax just a little at your words. “I can make a plate for you and bring it back here,” she says, already knowing your preference. Given Geidi Prime’s incredible wealth and lack of natural resources other than fuels and metals there are imported fruits that you’d never had before coming here that you’re certain you’ll never get sick of.

“Sounds perfect, thank you,” you tell her, and take advantage of the new medication when she leaves.

When she returns with another tray for you, she’s accompanied by two other girls holding a fresh arrangement of sheets; the hems and necklines of their garb are cut a little different from hers and they look younger, perhaps the same age as your little sister. You wonder if the difference in the way they’re dressed suggests rank? They keep their heads down and don’t acknowledge you other than a silent curtsy before stripping your old sheets and setting down a new spread. You look at them for a moment, wondering if it’s at the Baron’s insistence that no staff ever look a Harkonnen royal in the eye or if this rule’s been going on for generations when Idrisa snaps you out of your thoughts.

“I have a tea prepared for you as well, Na-Baroness,” she says, gesturing towards the tray that she’s set on your end-table and removing the cloche covering your plate. “It’s not medicine strictly speaking but it has soothing properties.”

You turn and look at her. She doesn’t look much older than you, but the same can be said of most of the female slaves. Are they banished to where they won’t be easily seen when they reach a certain age? What’s the life expectancy? It feels more than a little insensitive to ask right now, so you just let them work as you take a seat at your end-table and take a sip of your tea.

After breakfast is over and you’ve found a comfortable position sitting up in bed, propped up by the pillows and headboards, you read a bit more on the Harkonnen lineage. The more you read, the more you understand why Father always insisted that Geidi Prime is no place for a woman. Women in high places, you find, have in history been assassinated more often than the men, or kidnapped to use as collateral and tortured. You wonder if that’s why you saw so few at the wedding and reception, why they seemed so hidden out of view even while accompanying their high-ranking husbands.

You’re reasonably certain that your new husband’s concerned enough with his image as heir to the Harkonnen throne not to tarnish the alliance your marriage has created, that even if he doesn’t really know you and may never love you–you’re reasonably certain that he’s incapable of feeling such an emotion–he’ll still make sure to protect what he sees as his. His uncle will likely be another story.

The door opens unannounced and you look up, expecting Idrisa only to find Feyd-Rautha letting himself in without a word and closing the door behind him. He doesn’t speak at first, but everything in his demeanor tells you that he did in fact notice your absence and wants an explanation.

You compose yourself. There’s no need to panic. “Good afternoon, husband. To what do I owe the pleasure?” you ask, tone as light and cool as the weather would be on your home planet right now.

He leans against the door as he folds his arms across his chest and looks you over. “I missed you at breakfast,” he says.

“Yes, my apologies. I’m not feeling well,” you tell him.

He clearly doesn’t believe you. You don’t seem feverish , he seems to think with his unimpressed gaze. You seem fine . “Still getting adjusted to the atmosphere on Geidi Prime?” he asks, and for a foolish moment you hope that he’s giving you an excuse. Maybe he thinks you’re avoiding him because of last night, and you’re content to let him think that.

“Yes, husband,” you tell him.

“That’s a shame,” he says, crossing over to your bed and sitting at the edge of it. “It occurred to me last night that whoever taught you close-range maneuvers didn’t do their job right. You should’ve been able to evade me.”

You wrinkle your brow and don’t have it in you to hide your insulted glare; your House’s military is considered a force to be reckoned with and a slight against your training is a slight against your House and your father himself. “Did you want me to evade you?” you ask.

He seems amused by your sudden sharpness, and you realize that he’d wanted to hit a nerve. He knew what he was implying and got the precise reaction he’d been hoping for. “That’s not the point, wife. You said yourself that you were out of practice and as soon as you’re feeling better I intend to rectify that. Your cute little boot-dagger won’t serve you any good if you can’t correctly use it.”

He places his hand on your leg, trailing it along your thigh and stopping just shy of your apex, his thumb brushing against it through the fabric of your skirt. You give a sharp inhale that makes him smile. You start to close your legs but his hand, now cupping your inner thigh, holds one open enough for him to continue to fondle as he pleases.

His hand stays there for a moment, stays over the light material of your skirt even as you're sure the soft flesh of your inner thigh heats his palm, as flushed as you feel under his touch. He leans in, inhales as he leans over you and sniffs your hair. It’s not even the first time he’s done it. You wonder if he finds your hair to be a sort of forbidden fruit; something he can’t say he likes because to do so would disrespect Harkonnen hairlessness, but still something he finds fascinating or even enviable. You’re not sure yet whether his lack of it is down to genetics or grooming but you assume the former, if it affects everyone including those who wouldn’t have such prime access to constant shaving.

But then he fully brings his hand between your legs, fingertips rubbing up against you and you flinch.

Now? Is he going to try and fuck me right here and now? You shift, trying to hide what you’re sure is a look of panic on your face, trying to scramble for an excuse as Feyd-Rautha rubs a whimper out of you.

In the moments he does and you freeze, he watches your face a moment longer and then something shifts in his eyes, and he pulls back.

“I’ll call on you soon,” he says. There’s something satisfied, almost smug in his tone. He doesn’t wait for a response from you before he gets up and leaves, and you wonder what caused his departure.

Idrisa comes in a minute later with more tea for you. “The Na-Baron seems mollified,” she says. “He’s taken the news well.”

“I didn’t tell him.”

You catch Idrisa furrowing her brow-line, incredulous even with her head bowed before she can smooth over her expression into one of polite indifference.

“He doesn’t need to know yet,” you tell her. “He said he’d call on me later.”

“My apologies for speaking boldly, Na-Baroness,” she says, “but the Na-Baron will still take you to bed tonight or whenever he decides is convenient. Harkonnen men expect their wives to always be available to them, no matter how they’re feeling.”

You suppose you already knew this. It certainly doesn’t help the gnawing feeling in your stomach even as the medicine Idrisa gave you has soothed the cramps for now.

“It appears I can hold him off until after dinner, at least,” you finally say. There’s that; you also appreciate having another meal without the Baron’s presence.

You wish you had someone you could talk to about this in which it wouldn’t feel weird to ask. You look over at Idrisa. She’s the only friend you’ve managed to make so far and while you don’t see that changing anytime soon, you haven’t forgotten that she keeps you company out of obligation. You can’t be certain as to whether or not she actually likes you, or if she only tolerates you due to her heightened position within the Harkonnen Fortress as your personal attendant. Still, she’s certainly better than no one to ask. She takes your old mug and heads for the door.

“Idrisa,” you start. She turns. “You’ve…have you been with men before?”

She inclines her head in a polite nod. “When it’s required of me,” she says.

Your second question dies in your mouth. Oh. Right . Yet again you’re disgusted but can’t say you’re all that surprised.

And instead of asking for advice you’re struck by another thought. “Has the Na-Baron ever…?” you start and she immediately shakes her head.

“Never, Na-Baroness,” she assures you. “He has never been known to satiate himself that way with slaves.”

Are you being honest or telling me what I want to hear? you almost ask but spare her the indignity. You’re reasonably certain that if Feyd-Rautha had taken advantage of her, he’d have gloated to you about it. “Thank you,” you tell her. You don’t want to know how men on Geidi Prime have abused her mouth. “I was just curious.”

“Not at all, Na-Baroness,” she says.

As the hours tick by you wish you'd just told Feyd-Rautha your situation and gotten whatever awkward ensuing conversation over with.

In the evening Idrisa brings you dinner, more tea, and a glass of wine. “The Na-Baron has given you two hours before expecting you in his bedchambers.”

You sigh. “Thank you, Idrisa,” you tell her, not quite willing to add, you were right . You eat, you have your tea, you bathe and clean your hair. And in the remaining time that you have before you need to leave, you sip your wine. You’d be foolish to assume that it will truly settle your nerves, but it tastes nice.

“I guess it’s time,” you say finally, looking at the timepiece on your nightstand. “How angry do you think he’ll be?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know, Na-Baroness,” Idrisa says as she opens the door to lead you to your husband. “He’s never been married nor been instructed to sire an heir before.”

When you get to his bedroom he’s already standing in the middle of it, wearing only black pants with a relaxed fit that suggests leisure, maybe sleep. And here you hadn’t taken him as the kind of man to own pajamas.

He looks over your shoulder at Idrisa, who seems just as surprised to see him as you are even as she immediately lowers her head in deference.

“Dismissed,” he tells her, and she curtsies and scurries out of the room, closing the door behind her, leaving the two of you alone and rather more dressed than you’ve been in this room.

You stand, awkwardly, playing with the sash to your robe as the two of you look at each other in silence. Or rather, he stares at you and you look down, knowing what you’d rehearsed and still needing to force the words out.

“My apologies, husband, but it’s my time of month,” you finally manage.

“I know,” he says. “I could smell it on you. I could feel your rag in between your legs.”

Was that what he was doing? You look up at his face and find nothing that you can really parse and pause, unsure what you could say to that, before you move on.

“I know it’s not ideal, but we can try again in a few days, and in the meantime,” you try to sound like you’re not as nervous as you are, fully aware that seduction was never something you learned, “I know that there are…other ways to satisfy you.” A few days and we can resume trying to secure your firstborn .

He gives a small smirk at the second part of your statement but comments only on the first. “A few days?” he repeats, as if you’ve just said either the funniest or dumbest thing he’s heard all week. “What makes you think I care to wait a few days?”

You’re not sure you heard him right. “The blood,” you say slowly. “I can’t control it.”

“You think a Harkonnen would be scared of a little blood?” he says.

You’re not sure what to say to that. In hindsight, you’re not sure why you’d assumed that this man of all men would be too squeamish to fuck a bleeding woman.

“Strip down,” he says, after the seconds of silence that follow. He sounds so casual as he says it, as if he just told you to have a seat. You hesitate, still unsure if he’s being serious.

“Did you not understand me?” he prompts when seconds tick by and you haven’t moved.

“I do, husband,” say. “But still, I have to warn you that it’ll make a mess.”

“Y/N,” he says, his tone somehow light. There’s an element of danger to it. “You’re not the one who’ll have to clean up afterwards.”

Nor you , you think. “So you want me in this state.” You don’t phrase it as a question but he can hear the confusion in your voice.

The smirk never quite left his face but returns in full as he crosses the few steps over to you that leaves you close enough that you can feel his breath. He takes your wrist and presses your hand to his groin–it’s rapidly filling out.

“What do you think?” he says.

You gasp, almost giving an incredulous laugh as you glance between his face and back down to his groin. Harkonnen men are built differently, you suppose.

You pull away enough to unravel your robe and step out of your slippers. He doesn’t object to your garments being left on his floor instead of neatly tucked on his dresser, so you keep going, pulling your chemise over your shoulders, pulling down your undergarment and letting it slide down your legs, until you’re bared entirely for him.

He looks down at the blood that gathered in the kerchief lining the gusset of your undergarment as it hits the floor and you step out of it, and then he looks back at you.

“Hold your arms out like this, wrists together,” he says, extending his own to demonstrate.

He still doesn’t seem angry, his tone suggesting patience that you know he doesn’t have, but you hesitate before mimicking him.

“Very nice,” he says, and you bristle at his condescension as he half-circles you before heading for his armoire. You turn around to watch him open it, and your jaw drops when you see what’s inside.

It’s lined with whips, rope, chains, knives, scalpels, collars, and other items you’ve never seen before but if this is in his bedroom then it must serve one particular purpose, either on himself whoever has the misfortune of being with him when he wants to use any of these devices.

He glances over his shoulder and looks if anything delighted by your stunned reaction, the growing sense of dread. “I didn’t say you could drop your arms,” he says, and turns back to pick out a length of black rope.

You suppose you ought to be grateful that he didn’t pick out any chains.

You watch as he loops an intricate tie binding your wrists. He does it with such practiced ease he looks directly into your eyes as he does it. You manage to hold his gaze in defiance even as your heart hammers in your chest and you’re scared of what’s going to happen next. You know that, like a true Harkonnen, he likes your fear, but it hasn’t occurred to either of you yet that he also appreciates your fire.

“Get on all fours on the bed, pet,” he says, tone light and playful as much as his gravely timbre can make it.

You try to keep your eyes on him as much as possible, making sure he’s never fully out of your sightline as you get on the bed, squirming but managing to maneuver the position he wants while your wrists are bound. He knows that you don’t trust him, and if anything that seems to elevate his excitement.

Good girl, he seems to be thinking. He looks you over, turning and sauntering so he can take a moment to gaze first at your naked profile, then at your backside.

You have to keep reminding yourself that he won’t do anything that will risk you being able to give him children as he turns away and pads over to his armoire. For a moment you’re not sure if he’s trying to decide what he’d like to use, or if he’s purposefully biding his time to make you more nervous. His fingertips seem to dance over the whips, then the chains. He briefly touches the handle to one of his knives.

Not the scalpel. Please not the scalpel.

You see it–corded leather. A black whip with multiple knotted tails. He takes it down from his display but leaves the armoire doors open–undoubtedly to keep reminding you of what else he could be and very likely will be doing to you in the future.

You think about the Bene Gesserit Litany and try to repeat it in your head as you consider the tool? the weapon? clutched in his fist. At first glance the whip looks like the cat-of-nine-tails your brother-in-law seems so fond of. However, when you shut your eyes, take a breath, and think of the words– fear is the mind-killer –you realize when you open your eyes again that what Feyd-Rautha’s holding is a lot smaller than a proper cat-of-nine-tails and the tails thicker. You have no doubt that this is going to hurt, but it doesn’t look like it will rip you apart.

“What, what is this? A punishment for bleeding? ” you finally ask, unable to handle the silence anymore and because that’s the only explanation you can imagine.

And yet Feyd-Rautha looks amused that you’d suggest it. “It’s because I want to use it on you,” he says, as if any further explanation would be silly. “Ever since I first saw you, I wondered what that pretty ass of yours would look like after I’d taken this to it.” He holds up the device for emphasis. “I wondered what noises you’d make. I wanted to know what you’d look like with your wrists bound, naked and helpless in my bed. What you’d look like squirming and bleeding.

“ Yesterday was a punishment,” he adds. “This is just fun.”

For you, perhaps, you think. It’s no matter; you’ll just have to prove that you can take whatever he dishes out. You just have to decide whether it’s better or worse that he’s not doing this out of anger.

“Are you scared, pet?” he asks.

“ No, ” you lie in the most adamant and dignified tone you can muster, and once again he acts like what you’ve said is cute. He clicks his tongue.

“You mustn’t lie to me in bed, pet,” he says, approaching the bed again, his free hand skimming over your ribcage, your side, your hip, as he finally stands beside the bed, and ever-so-slowly draws the corded whip up and down the backs of your thighs. The tassels brush gently against your skin and it feels perverse, the anticipation he’s building within you. On his second pass you inhale sharply, shutting your eyes, hips twitching away from the device, and Feyd-Rautha chuckles at that.

“Relax,” he says.

Fuck you. You know I can’t. Just do it and get it over with , you want to tell him with your sharp exhale, and one second later he draws his hand back and brings the whip down.

You cry out, rocking forward, your entire body clenching up as much from shock as pain. Nothing could really prepare you for this; his hand from the first night had been easier, more personal. The individual cords spread out like a fractal tree, like cracks in a block of ice fanning out.

The second time is less sharp, more of a thud that reverberates through your body, the impact reverberating in your pulse. Tears prick up at the corners of your eyes and for a moment you can’t breathe. It would figure that this man has used this device often enough that he knows how to inflict different flavors of pain depending on whether he’s putting the movement in his wrist or his forearm. You clench your fists, waiting for the next lash, and then the next.

Your nerves are on fire. You can barely think, barely focus on anything but the exquisite pain on impact, the sharp sting of the air against your impacted flesh, the sweet moments you adjust, finding your breath, before he comes down again. You don’t scream, not after the first blow, but the tears forming at the corners of your eyes start trickling down your face and then drop directly onto your forearms the covers below you when you bow your head.

You don’t know how long he keeps going, don’t keep count. The pain starts to dull but the intensity becomes overwhelming as he compounds on every lash. Your ears are ringing. You taste iron at the back of your throat. The worst part is that you find, to your horror, your nipples feel stiff. You start to feel wet.

It has to be a fear response. This isn’t enjoyable . It’s intense, it’s painful, and you can’t help but feel shame lance through you that your body would react this way.

Please. I can’t take any more , you want to tell him, but opt instead to whimper through your clenched teeth.

At that moment the whip comes down and it sends you toppling forward, finally collapsing. The covers are soft against your tear-stained cheek. You shut your eyes, panting, waiting for him to haul you back up and continue the process.

But nothing happens. You don’t try to look behind you and hope that he’s done. You just take a rattling breath and listen for the sound of the whip and its tendrils slicing through air, and it doesn’t come.

“You lasted longer than I thought you would,” Feyd-Rautha says, the first time he’s spoken in minutes, and you open your eyes and turn your head to see him twist the coils of his whip and head over to the armoire.

“Come on,” he says over his shoulder. “Back into position, pet.”

You grit your teeth and force yourself back up on your hands and elbows. “Good,” he adds softly, and it’s embarrassing how one single word of praise makes you flush, sends a pleasant tingle down your spine. This shouldn’t have the effect on you that it does–maybe it’s because now that it’s over, you feel lighter, almost dazed. All of your muscles had tightened into coils, but now you feel pliant to the point that your limbs feel rubbery. You’re exhausted. You’re hurt. You don’t know what else he has on the agenda for you tonight but you just hope it doesn’t involve another one of his whips or ropes.

He sets the device back in the armoire and turns to face you. He looks at your flushed, tear-stained face and smiles, mouth-closed before approaching the bed, his cock hard in his pants, and even though part of you wants nothing more than to melt into the bed and to get some relief for your stinging backside, you know he’s still going to chase his own pleasure.

‘He’ll want your mouth,’ you remember.

You won’t wait for him to force it or grind your face into his privates. If that’s what he wants, you’ll get there first, and so you drop your head and fumble as you reach with bound wrists for the fly of his pants.

You’re focused on what’s directly in your eyeline, so you don’t see his brief look of surprise, but you hear his voice, sounding pleased. “Let me help you with that, pet,” he says, pulling away long enough to pull his pants down, stepping out of them.

It’s even more daunting when it’s this close to your face, but he steps back in, cradling your jaw, and you lean in and lick the tip of him.

For a few seconds that’s all you know to do, to lick around him, feeling the ridges and veins under your tongue. It’s all the verification he could possibly need that you’ve never done this before, and that spurs him on, cradling your head in one large hand as the other guides himself past your lips and into your mouth.

It confirms what you suspected; he’s too big to take all the way and thankfully, doesn’t try to make you.

Not yet, a part of you thinks. You try to breathe, try not to get your teeth on him, try to relax and close your eyes as he controls the pace. It’s easy enough at first; far from the rutting of the past couple of nights. It doesn’t occur to you that, by his standards anyway, he’s being gentle with you. Doesn’t occur to you to wonder why. You just try to keep up as your backside and the backs of your thighs sting like hell and you hope Idrisa will have some sort of lotion for it when you get back to your quarters.

Feyd-Rautha appears to have yet another reason to like your hair, it seems, as he threads his fingers through it, guiding you onto him in slowly greater increments until he’s suddenly over halfway in and you freeze, nearly gagging, forgetting how to breathe.

He holds you in place for a moment, just long enough for your eyes to widen as you glance up at him and his heavy-lidded eyes and chest heaving with arousal. He waits until you’re about to struggle and tear away from him before he relinquishes your hair and steps away, pulling out. You take a deep breath, gulping the air down.

“Stay right there,” he says, and settles in behind you, stroking your hindquarters like you’re a horse that he’s trying to calm down. Will he put a saddle on you next? You exhale hard through your nose, mouth pursing, waiting for what he’ll do next. Will he mark up the stinging raw skin he’s already flogged with his hand?

Fine. Fuck you again. I can take whatever you’ve got. I can handle it , you want to tell him out of spite. You sense him shift, dipping his head, and despite your steeled nerves can’t help but gasp and feel something flutter in your core when you feel his breath against your lower back.

What exactly is he–? is all you have time to think before he dives in.

You jolt and wriggle in shock as he licks over one of your growing welts; you can’t quite tell but wouldn’t be surprised if he broke skin. However, it’s how his tongue glides over your backside before shifting his weight to your folds that sends waves of shock, revulsion, and excitement as you cry out, stunned.

He’s licking my wounds .

You’re trying to wrap your head around how salacious it is that his lips and tongue alternate between licking the impacted skin on your buttocks and the backs of your thighs and dipping his tongue inside of you. He has your hips firmly in place, which serves him well given that you’re torn between recoiling away from the heat of his mouth and wanting to press back against it. You can feel him smirk at the sounds of your shocked moans.

He pulls away long enough to turn you on your back and you wince at the impact before you see him slide down along the bed and continue the onslaught. You can hardly believe it as he grabs your still-stinging buttocks and buries his face against your bleeding pussy.

This is disgusting , part of you thinks. Another part of you can hardly understand what’s happening. In all your years you’ve never met a man who didn’t recoil hearing about monthly courses. You’ve never heard of anyone wanting to taste a…a bloody gash .

Your wrists are still bound, and you grip onto the pillows above your head as he lifts your thighs to rest over his shoulders and dives back in, tongue pressing inside of you.

It feels incredible. You’d prefer it if it didn’t. More than anything else, you don’t want to be enjoying this, wish the continuous whines and moans he’s drawing out of you were insincere, but he can feel as well as you do that you mean every sound. You, Lady Y/N of the powerful and dignified house of Y/H, are getting your bloody pussy licked by the ruthless barbarian Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen and Great Mother and every forgotten old god, you’re enjoying every visceral and shocking moment of it.

He knows it, too, the smug bastard. He probably feels even more powerful like this, on his belly and with his face between your legs, than he did when he was tanning your hide.

He raises one hand from your hip to your breast, giving one of your nipples a cruel pinch, smirking against your slit as you whimper in protest, and continues. His nose presses and rubs against your bud in the onslaught and you finally admit to yourself that any last vestiges of resistance you might have had has caved when you squirm, rocking your hips upwards and desperately wishing that your wrists were free so you could press his face closer into you.

He keeps up his pace, bringing you as close to the edge as possible without reaching it until finally, mercifully, he shifts his mouth to your bud, his fingers replacing his tongue inside of you. Your unrestrained cries fill the room, spurring him on, and then the force of it hits you as he brings you over the precipice for the first time. It feels like it comes in shockwaves, especially as he keeps going through it all.

You’re still pulsing and squirming against his tongue when he stops, raising himself up and leaning over you. Inky, sticky blood coats the lower part of his face, from his chin to his nostrils, and you’re a little surprised at how the sight doesn’t alarm you as much as it probably should, especially since that’s your blood covering his face.

There are far worse ways he could be smeared with your blood . You gasp, still, at the striking color against the pallor of his face, reminded of seeing him in the arena.

He presses damp, open-mouthed kisses against your stomach, your ribcage, your breasts and collarbone, as if to mark you with it. Finally he sits up, bringing your legs over his as he guides himself into you with his bloodied fingers.

He stays upright as he pulls you onto him, and you watch his face as he looks down where you’re joined, his groan like a rumble in his chest as he sees himself pumping in and out of your bleeding pussy. He won’t last long, you realize. He’s been holding himself back from fucking you into the mattress since he visited you in your chambers hours ago.

He curves in then, bracing one hand above your head to grip your still-bound wrists as his other hand grabs your hip to keep you stable. You realize what he’s about to do a split second before it can happen.

He’s going to kiss you with that bloody mouth .

You tamp down on the revulsion of it and the coppery smell, again refusing to let him shock you or give you anything you can’t take and move in first, leaning up and capturing his mouth in a kiss.

He groans into it, hips pumping, tongue invading your mouth as he speeds up, going hard, hips snapping into you. He’s relentless; this would be agonizing if he hadn’t worked you open and pliant with his lips and tongue and even still, it veers on the edge of being overwhelming. Your whimpers and cries only encourage him.

And then he finally comes, burying his face in the crux of your neck and biting down, not hard enough to draw blood but enough that it will leave a bruise later.

For a moment the two of you stay that way, then he releases your wrists and sinks down onto you, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder as he pulls out and takes a moment to catch his breath. After a moment he raises himself back up on his forearms, pauses, and takes in the sight of your face and your lips stained red before reaching for your wrists again and untying the rope; once freed you notice that your skin’s been chafed rosy but still fully intact.

He gets up, and you watch the lines of his legs, the slope and curve of his buttocks, the taper from his shoulders to his waist as he gets up and sets the rope back in the armoire before finally closing it shut.

Guess he’s done for the night .

But is he going to send me back right away? you wonder, turning to your side to watch the way he moves. It takes some effort. You feel as depleted as a rung-out damp rag.

He approaches the bed and wordlessly holds out his hand, and once you take it guides you to your feet and leads you into this bathroom.

Like his bedroom, it’s larger than yours.

He doesn’t let you wash your blood off your body; he wants it to remain on you until it dries and peels off on its own. Instead he wipes his face, rinses and cleans out his mouth, and gives you a cup of water to do the same. He wipes off in between his legs and then yours, quiet and strangely peaceful. He takes another cloth and wets it, and then grabs a small bottle out of a drawer. “Turn around, hands on the counter,” he says.

Fairly certain you know what he’s about to do, you acquiesce. “Did you draw blood?” you ask over your shoulder.

He shakes his head. “Not this time,” he says. “Wasn’t trying to.” And then he surprises you by getting down on one knee.

You give a small gasp. It just seems…lewd? Subservient? And tired and sore as you are, you can’t help the twinge you feel in between your legs as he gingerly presses the cloth against your reddened skin. You grip the countertop tighter as he opens the bottle of what you can only assume is ointment because after a moment his fingertips are smeared in a cool balm that offers such sweet relief you drop your head, trying to hold yourself together when your legs feel like they’re about to give out and you can feel Feyd-Rautha’s breath so close to the sensitive skin of your backside.

He seems to be applying the ointment to the worst of the welts, starting in silence and then adding, “You’re sensitive, but you have a decent pain tolerance. I like that.”

You huff a laugh. I bet you say that to all the girls, you almost tell him, and immediately think that that’s probably not true. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s tending to your wounds you’d assume that he’d never do anything like this. Something tells you that this small act of kindness isn’t to be taken lightly or for granted.

Once he seems satisfied with his work he gets back up, sneaking a glance of your face in the mirror.

Is he thinking about how much you’ve already changed since you’ve met? Since you’ve married? When you see your reflection you don’t see the same person you did a week ago. Of course he didn’t know you a week ago. He barely knows you now. Still, when your eyes meet in the mirror, he looks at you with something almost close to affection before he leaves the bathroom.

“Stay the night,” he says when you walk over to your abandoned clothes so you can gather them up, get dressed, and return to your chambers.

You look over at him.

“I’ll want to sample you again first thing in the morning,” he explains, “so it’s more convenient if you remain here.”

You huff, torn between incredulity and amusement. “Taking advantage of the situation while we still can, are we?” you ask.

“I doubt it’ll come again for another ten months,” he says, and then strides, still naked, for the door. He opens it, and a few words of battle-language later he shuts again. He sees your confused expression and explains, “Your slave was still waiting for you. I told her to go.” He tilts his head in the direction of his bed, and after a moment you follow. It appears that he doesn’t even want you to pull your undergarment back on.

As soon as you’re under the covers with him he tugs down your end of it to get one last look at your marked chest. And after he’s looked his fill, he reaches for a switch that turns off the lights and even as the two of you can’t quite see each other, you still find yourselves on your sides facing one another.

“I wake up earlier than you’re probably used to and I’m a light sleeper. Your slave assured me that you don’t snore,” he says.

“Not that I’m aware of,” you tell him.

“Once you stop bleeding I’m going to start having you train in my Halls,” he adds. “I was serious earlier.”

“But for the next few days I’m chained to this bed.”

“That could be arranged,” he says. “In any case you weren’t complaining when I was licking your cunt earlier.”

He won’t see your flush, but he must know that it’s there. “So… is it safe to assume that none of this is…” you try to find the right words, “typical? For a man, I mean.” And in quite possibly the biggest understatement you’ve ever made, “You’re not a normal man.”

You’ve adjusted enough to the dark to see his smirk. “I think you've known that since before we met, Y/N,” he says. And after a moment he lays his head, settling in and getting comfortable. He doesn’t say another word to you that night, just closes his eyes and within a couple of minutes his breath slows.

It’s hard to imagine being able to let your guard down enough with this man to sleep beside him, even if he falls asleep first. Like sleeping beside a wild animal.

Sleep does come to you, though, after long minutes watching him sleep, waiting for him to wake up and scare you, lunge for you, and it doesn’t happen.

You turn to your other side, facing away from him then, and the only signal you get that he’s not entirely asleep is that as you start to drift off yourself, he reaches one arm to pull you in closer to him.

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