#— you will go INSANE in the first five minutes of your new life / new day / wakeful hour
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#the thing about poem-a-day is that some days you Will wake up and turn to check your emails and not knowing —#— you will go INSANE in the first five minutes of your new life / new day / wakeful hour
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this night together - chapter five (j.yh + s.mg)
chapter five: not so easy to ignore
chapter summary: things at the studio turn out just about as bad as expected, but wooyoung takes you under his wing and introduces you to some new friends.
warnings: references to a/b/o dynamics such as heat and knotting and designations, alcohol/drinking, angst, sad vibes, but also good vibes?, reference to work place sexual harassment but not like you think
notes: thank you all so much for your kind feedback on this fic. i'm having an absolute blast writing it, and i'm so thankful for all the people giving it a try even tho this genre isn't their thing! that means a lot. this is the last chapter i have written in full, so chapter six may take a little extra time. i'm about to hit a few insane weeks of work, so i'll do my best but please be patient with me. there's a lot more chapters to come though, i promise.....
pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader
genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory
word count: 6.9K
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As it turns out, you can’t just go back to being friends. When you wake in the morning you still feel sick, and your first thought is to wonder if Yunho does too. Maybe Mingi feels the same, but was better at hiding it. Maybe you’ll get to the studio and they’ll take you in their arms like a movie and kiss the breath out of you and hold you close and tell you they should have never, ever driven you home. But you doubt it.
You’ve been in love before, and you’ve had crushes before that. You’re no stranger to getting tangled up in emotional webs, it’s just usually not with people you work with and it’s usually so much easier to walk away. Or run, as you’re used to doing. This body, this designation, this biology, it makes everything always feel so confusing and artificial. Do you want them or does your omega? Do you need them or is it just the after effects of heat?
It’s a lot easier when you lie to yourself.
You’ve been dealing with this biology all your life. That’s all this is, and after a little time and a little distance, your body will catch up to your mind and stop feeling this way about them.
You take those aching feelings and lock them away tightly and then you get up. You shower, you take a deep breath, and then you buy yourself the fanciest coffee you can think of despite the absolute lack of funds in your checking account. This momentary serotonin will be worth the overdraft fee if that’s where it puts you, you need this.
By the time you get to the studio, you’re pretty confident that you’re over them, convincing yourself that it was just fun, good sex. Great sex, even, but still just sex.
But the minute you see Mingi every stitch of the resolve you knit for yourself unravels, and he looks surprised to see you even though it was part of the plan that you’d return today. He leaves the room before you can even open your mouth and try to say something innocuous and you know right then and there you were right all along. It was never going to be that simple.
Yunho blushes when he sees you, his ears turning a dark shade of pink and for a second he trips over his words addressing the wider group.
Mingi avoids your touch when you cross his path at lunch, offering you just a quick hello and then he’s gone again.
Instead of searching for their eyes, you start to get really comfortable with the wood grain of the floor and do your best just to focus on yourself. You’re working on something new, and a week ago you would have stayed late to fine tune your understanding of the choreography with Mingi while he waited on Yunho to wrap up in the back office, but you know those days are gone.
When practice ends they disappear, and you’re left to pack up by yourself. You give it a few minutes, thinking maybe when the rest of the crew trickles out maybe they’ll come to you, but they don’t. So much for being adults about this. You blink back hazy tears as you pull on your jacket, focused on packing up as fast as you can now just to get the hell out of this room.
You don’t even hear him coming up behind you.
“Come on,” Wooyoung says with a roll of his eyes, “we’re going for drinks.”
“I really should get home,” You glance over at him as you finish packing up your bag.
“I’m buying,” Wooyoung counters, “so you really have no excuse.”
What you really want is to go home and bury yourself under the covers for the foreseeable future. Every awkward second glance with Yunho was making you want to curl into a ball and every moment Mingi spent pretending he barely knew you made you want to go home and cry. An entire day filled with almost sentences and troublesome glances and all you can tell yourself is that you knew it, you were right all along.
You don’t answer Wooyoung, and instead you just can’t help yourself, you look behind you towards the back office, but neither of the men you want to see are there.
“Are you really so afraid of making friends you’re turning down free drinks?” Wooyoung prods your side, “That’s really fucking lame of you,”
“Wooyoung,” You sigh, your head dropping back.
“It’s fine,” He says, his voice lilting up in a sing-song, “I thought you were cool,”
Your jaw tightens.
“And I’m not usually wrong,” He goes on, “but it’s fine, I’m man enough to admit when I’m wrong, and you, y/n, are lame.”
“Fine!” You snap up and meet his eyes, “Fine, I’ll come, but just one drink.”
“Excellent,” He smiles, and you’re starting to get the sense that Wooyoung doesn’t really take no for an answer ever.
“One drink,” You repeat.
“Yeah,” He shrugs off, “come on, get your stuff, we’re meeting San at 1987.”
“Where?”
“Bar,” He brushes off your question without really answering, “let’s go,”
Wooyoung turns on his heel without a second thought, and he’s off. You have to jog to keep up with him to get out of the building, and he’s mostly quiet until you hit the evening street outside. He slows to a casual pace and turns his head to you when he says, “You like San, right?”
The question catches you off guard, “Of course,”
Wooyoung smiles, “He’s definitely all business at work, most of the time, but don’t worry.”
“Why would I worry?” Your brow furrows, every interaction you’ve had with San so far has been perfectly pleasant, albeit professional.
“I just mean he’s fun,” Wooyoung corrects himself, “he’s just really serious about the work,”
“You’re all kind of like that,” You point out, “mostly,”
“Right,” Wooyoung nods, winding his way through an alley and you divert off the main street to follow him as he leads you through the back way to their regular spot.
“He takes training really seriously,” You offer, “but I think that’s good. We could all hurt ourselves if we weren’t following his plans,”
Wooyoung grins, “Oh, he’s going to like the sound of that.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm,” Wooyoung lays a hand softly between your shoulder blades to direct you through a small crowd, “follow that up with how handsome he is and you’ll get special treatment forever.”
You laugh sharply, “Noted.”
He points ahead, “Just up there,”
At the far end of the alley is a hanging neon sign, the ‘7’ in ‘1987’ flickering intermittently. It’s not as flashy as some of the other bars or restaurants along the street you’re walking, but that looks to be part of the charm. As you make your way up to the door and inside, Wooyoung is quick to greet a few people on the sidewalk, throw a wave to the bartender, and he throws around names and details to you faster than you can pick up on them.
San waits at a table in the far corner, two light, wheat beers already waiting on the table. When he glances up from his phone and sees you both his eyes widen but he smiles pleasantly.
“Hey!” He smiles, standing and pulling a chair out for you, “I didn’t realize you were coming, I would have ordered you something,”
“I’m not crashing plans, am I? Woo didn’t say,” You glance between them.
“Not at all,” San shakes his head, gesturing for you to sit, “you’re more than welcome. Seonghwa should be coming too at some point,”
“Oh,” Your stomach does a little nervous flip flop.
“Chill,” Wooyoung interrupts your thoughts immediately, “have a drink, make some friends.”
You smile, taking your seat and letting San push it in for you so you’re settled at the table before he returns to his own place, gesturing for the server’s attention, “What’s your drink?” he asks you.
“Whatever you’re having is good,” You make it simple.
San smiles and points to their glasses before holding up a finger and silently communicating to the server that they need one more. He’s more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, now outside of work full of easy, confident energy.
“Well,” Wooyoung smiles and takes a long sip of his drink, “this is nice,”
“Yeah,” You’re not entirely sure what you’re doing here, but you might as well go with it, “thanks for letting me tag along,”
“Mm,” San’s eyes are trained on the serving staff but he nods, and then stands as your server approaches, meeting them halfway and taking the beer, thanking them profusely for running it out so quickly. When he returns to the table he presents your drink with ease, “There we go,”
“Thank you,” You nod, accepting the cold glass, and now that it’s in your hand you’re grateful to have the drink after the day you’ve had.
The sip is calming, cool and crisp, and you sigh as you swallow, not realizing the way you’re being watched by both men.
Wooyoung’s words nearly knock you sideways, and a tiny piece of you is grateful he waited until you finished sipping your drink, “So, how was your heat?”
You cough anyways though, just the idea that someone would say it so brazenly, and in public, “What?”
“Youngie,” San slaps him with the back of his hand, “you can’t ask her that,”
Wooyoung ignores him, leaning forwards with his elbows on the table now, “The perfume isn’t helping as much as you think,” he says and you blanch, “and I’ve never seen Yunho stare at someone for so long in my life, so,”
He barely met your eyes all day, and your head snaps up, “He was staring?”
His mouth quirks up on one side and San swivels his head towards you. Wooyoung nods, “Like a puppy,”
“Fuck,” You breathe.
Both their eyebrows raise.
“Sorry, sorry,” You lean back in your chair, hiding your face in your hands. So much for a convenient story about them having the flu.
“You can curse,” Wooyoung laughs, “I just didn’t expect you to admit it that fast, I thought I’d have to pry it out of you.”
“Oh, this is so bad,” You groan.
“Why bad?” San asks, “Yunho’s nice,”
You sigh, still hiding your face.
“He’s easily one of the best guys I know,” San continues, “and there’s nothing that says we can’t date within the company, we’re not idols,”
“Oh god,” You groan again.
“Is it so bad he has a crush on you?” San asks.
Wooyoung breaks into hysterics and your hands fall away, a blank, open expression on San’s face as he tries to pick up on the joke. You wince, shaking your head, “It’s worse than that,”
“Worse,” San repeats, still slow on the uptake.
“Woo,” You find his eyes with yours, “please don’t make me say it.”
He sobers quickly, and takes a swig of his beer, “Right,” he faces San, “Yunho had the flu, but it wasn’t really the flu. They were heat partners.”
“Oh,” San says, “oh,”
“Exactly,” You sigh.
There’s a beat and then San’s brow screws up in confusion, “Didn’t Mingi have the flu too?”
Heat tints your cheeks pink instantaneously and you look down at your glass, suddenly focused on the tiny bursting bubbles at the top of your beer. You brace yourself for their reaction.
“Holy shit,” Wooyoung breathes, “y/n, you’re a god,”
“What?” Your head snaps up.
“Both of them?” Wooyoung shakes his head, “Tell me everything,”
“You don’t have to do that,” San interrupts him again, smacking the back of his arm, “he’s needlessly curious, but you know, you don’t have to share if you don’t,”
The words flood out of you, a small piece of you thankful that you don’t have to hold this whole thing inside yourself forever, “I went into heat at the studio,”
“What?” Wooyoung’s face softens, and you know that he understands just what that means. The anxiety, the fear, all of it.
“This is embarrassing,” You sigh.
“Then you don’t have to,” San tries again, wanting badly to save you from any further humiliation or pressure.
You ignore him and hold Wooyoung’s eyes, “Friends, right?”
He nods.
You swallow hard and then take the leap, “I can’t afford my suppressants right now,” you start and his eyes soften more, “I thought I had rationed them right, but after the recording it hit me like a truck.”
“I knew you seemed off,” Wooyoung says softly, “then what?”
“Mingi found me in the locker room, and then he got Yunho, and they made sure I got out of there okay,” You lean back, crossing your arms and biting the inside of your lip.
“Sharing your heat was unplanned?” Wooyoung clarifies.
“Yes,”
“And it was,” He searches for the right words, “I mean… were they okay? Everything was okay?”
You know what he’s asking without asking, and you nod, “Completely, it was more than okay, they were…”
“They’re both good guys,” San says, “it’s good they were there.”
“Yeah,” You breathe, before snapping yourself out of own head and reaching for your beer again, “anyways, yes, so they took me back to their place and now it’s four, five days later and everything’s so fucking awkward,”
“Hmm,” Wooyoung murmurs, “and it was good?”
You nod, lips pressed tight together in a line.
“Oh, it was too good,” Wooyoung grimaces, “yikes.”
“Right,” You sigh, “and Yunho and Mingi both made it pretty clear that this was a one-time casual sex thing, which is fine, but also you know how heat goes. Everything is all jumbled up now,”
“Mm,” Wooyoung nods, and then his eyes shift to above your head and he grins, “Hwa, right here!”
Park Seonghwa appears a moment later, a warm smile on his angular face and he pushes a lock of dark black hair behind his ear as he finds an open seat and slides into the table, “Hey,” he greets, and then turns to you, “hi, y/n, nice to see you outside the studio,”
“You too,” You smile.
San once again repeats his process for getting Seonghwa a drink, and your stomach tightens as you think about what Wooyoung might say in front of this man you barely know.
“It looks like I interrupted something,” Seonghwa says a few moments later when everything is still quiet and hanging still.
Wooyoung doesn’t say it, he just holds your gaze intently and raises an eyebrow as if to say - Can I?
You sigh, catching Seonghwa off guard, and then you nod.
“y/n just got back from heat leave,” Wooyoung turns to Seonghwa to explain, “with Yunho and Mingi.”
You expect a sheepish or embarrassed reaction, someone quick to divert the conversation away from sex, but it turns out you don’t know Seonghwa as well as you thought. He merely makes a noise of acknowledgement and glances to you, “How messy are things, then? They were both being weird today,”
“I don’t know,” You answer honestly with a sigh.
“They said they wanted it to be a one-time thing,” Wooyoung says, “but is the problem that you like them? Or one of them?”
“I can see that,” Seonghwa smiles, “Yunho kind of oozes perfect boyfriend,”
“It’s not that,” You shake your head, words bubbling up as you try to make sense of it, “it probably shouldn’t have happened at all, and I’m new, I don’t want to make anything weird or uncomfortable, but we spent like four days together… it was intense, and now I just feel like I can’t not think about it when I look at them,”
“Intense, good?” Wooyoung quirks a brow, nudging you under the table.
“Woo,” You sigh, “I’ve never felt like that,”
“What do you mean?” He asks softly, the two alphas at the table going silent to watch you both.
“I don’t know what it is about them,” You confess, “but the entire time all they did was make sure I was okay, they were so tender and kind, and when I left I just wanted to go back.”
“Oh,” Wooyoung murmurs, “you’ve got it bad,”
“My hormones are just out of whack,” You shake your head, “you know what it’s like. Have an alpha tell you they want to give you pups enough times and your brain short circuits,”
Seonghwa shifts in his seat and San clears his throat, but Wooyoung just laughs.
“Anyways, yes,” You take another sip of your drink, “I spent my heat with them, had the best sex of my life, and now I’m sitting here with a stomach ache because I don’t know where they are right now. I feel like the universe is playing a trick on me,”
“Wait,” Wooyoung starts to say, but you’re on a roll now, the single beer hitting just a little harder than it should have.
“Working here, with all of you, was my dream. I just think it’s funny that I haven’t even been here for three months and I’ve already managed to fuck it up, because now everytime I look at Yunho all I can hear is me begging him to claim me, which is insanity, pure and complete insanity,”
“Wait,” Wooyoung repeats again, hands up and out trying to get you to slow down, “I thought it was casual heat sex,”
“It was,” You resurface from your own panicked rambling and realize just how shocked the table looks, “what?”
“You asked Yunho to bite you?” Wooyoung asks, and when you nod he says, “and right now, how do you feel?”
“Fine,” You knee-jerk answer, “but, a little anxious I guess?”
“I don’t know how to explain this,” He says, looking to the two alphas for help who both shake their heads.
“Why do I feel like I’m missing something?” You glance between them.
“Okay,” Wooyoung claps his hands together, “listen, I have never asked Sannie to give me pups. I have never asked him to bite me, and I have never, ever, gotten all dizzy and sick when he’s not around.”
“Hey,” San grumbles, “I think she gets it,”
“I don’t,” You manage.
“What you had is a lot more than heat sex,” Wooyoung finally settles on, and your stomach drops.
“Woo,” You shake your head again, “no,”
“I’m serious!” He insists, “How else do you explain it,”
“You’re so dramatic,” You roll your eyes and reach for your drink, but find the glass empty, “it was good, really good, but that’s all it was.”
“He’s not wrong,” Seonghwa interrupts, his deep voice still calm and easy, “sometimes connections are just stronger. Scents match better, you know, everything just clicks. It doesn’t mean Yunho’s your soulmate, but if the pull is there, then there’s something there.”
You ignore the pull and flash him a weak smile, “Not for them.”
“Them,” Seonghwa corrects, “both of them?”
“I know,” You bury your head in your hands again.
“y/n,” San’s hand lays softly on your forearm, “no matter what happened, Yunho and Mingi are both still the guys from a few days ago. They’re still good men who care about you, even if that’s just as a member of the crew or a friend.”
“Can I ask a question?” Seonghwa interrupts.
“Sure,” You sigh, lifting your eyes to his.
“How do you know they don’t want you too?”
The question makes you feel awful, and you catch Wooyoung’s sympathetic look in your peripheral vision and nearly lose your composure, but the truth of it is simple. You clear your throat softly and straighten up, “They said so,”
“Oh,” He nods.
“And I’m not even sure I want them,” You tack on, “I don’t even really know them,”
Silence stretches at the table, and San’s eyes flick from yours to Seonghwa.
“Then let’s get another drink,” Seonghwa finally says, “let’s get your mind off it, and let’s have a good night. I know things are awkward at the studio, but don’t let them be. Just focus on the work and yourself and make some friends, and this whole thing will just be a funny story,”
You nod and sigh, “Okay,”
“Yeah,” Wooyoung offers, “a month from now no one’s going to remember,”
It’s around the third bar when someone brings it up again. You’re several more drinks deep, learning so much about the group dynamics that you can’t get while inside the studio walls. Wooyoung is quick to peel back all the layers for you now that you’re actually out with them and not just pushing it off a little longer for the sake of your wallet.
Leaning across the expanse of the table Seonghwa gets your attention with a drunken tap on your arm and his eyes narrow, “What’s this about you not being able to afford your suppressants?”
“What?” For a second his words don’t compute.
“Your meds, your suppressants,” He gestures, a little beer tipping over the edge of his glass, “why aren’t you on them?”
“I will be soon,” You lean in closer to hear each other over the music, “insurance window,”
“Ah,” He nods, “so what’s your plan next time?”
“Next time?” You turn your head so that his mouth is closer to your ear.
“Next heat,” He clarifies, a little slur in his speech, “while you’re onboarding,”
Your eyebrows shoot up at his words, “I don’t really know, I guess,”
“Mm,” He nods.
“Why?” You scoot your chair closer.
“I’m assuming you don’t want to,” His voice gets swallowed up by Wooyoung shouting something over the music and you shake your head.
“What?” You squint, shifting closer, bracing your hand on the table by his glass to steady yourself.
“Go back to Yunho and Mingi!” He all but shouts, “I’m assuming you don’t want to do that,”
“Fuck no,” You groan, “I’d rather take care of it myself than deal with feeling like this,”
“What about me?” He says and you laugh, but you don’t really know why. He clears his throat and shakes his head, sobering himself just a little, “Seriously,”
“What about you, what?”
He rolls his eyes, “Help with heat, I help Woo, San and I both do,”
“Oh,”
“Only if you need a hand,” He smiles, round eyes shining and kind, “or you know, a knot in this case,”
You clap a hand over your mouth and can’t help but fall apart into giggles, “You’re serious,”
He quirks his eyebrow at you, dropping his drink back onto the table so he can draw an X over his chest with two fingers, crossing his heart.
“What are you doing over there?” Wooyoung interrupts and your head snaps to the side, “Making a blood pact? You’re both trashed,”
“I am not trashed,” You insist, even though you can feel yourself slipping off the chair you’re on inch by inch.
“You’re allowed to be,” Wooyoung pushes a shot of soju towards you, “you’re broke and in love,”
“Wooyoung!” His words strike panic through you, “Seriously, stop that,”
“Alright, alright,” He throws up his hands, “broke and and in lust, whatever,”
San’s lips curl up in a half smile at his friend’s words. His eyes are closed, and he’s swaying a little from side to side, jerking back to center every now and again when his equilibrium feels too sideways. It’s entirely possible Wooyoung is the most sober one here and that thought makes you burst into laughter. San’s eyes fly open at the sound.
“I was offering my services,” Seonghwa cuts in, like he had been thinking about what to say that entire time and finally found the words.
“Your what?” Wooyoung laughs.
“For her next heat,” He explains, waving his hand like it’s simple addition, “my services,”
“Seonghwa,” San shakes his head sharply, “stop.”
“It’s not as if I’m with someone,” Seonghwa replies, holding San’s gaze intently, and for a split second it’s obvious there’s some kind of a backstory behind them all or their friendship or just Seonghwa himself that everyone knows and you don’t, but it isn’t the time to ask.
“Yeah,” San says a little gruffly, blinking hard to shake off the alcohol, “well, this still isn’t the time.”
Wooyoung wraps it up smoothly, “We’re all too drunk for this,”
“Exactly,” You take a moment of solace in the cup of soju.
“I mean it though,” Seonghwa tears his eyes away from San and a hand drops onto your knee, “you’re pretty, I’m pretty, just keep it in mind,”
There’s almost no way he’ll remember this tomorrow, so you let him off the hook with a smile and a hand on the side of his cheek, “Thank you, Hwa,”
“That’s what f-friends are for,” He hiccups lightly, and then you watch his eyes unfocus as the dizziness floods his vision and he drops his head unceremoniously onto your shoulder, “oh, God, I’m drunk,”
“There it is,” Wooyoung grins.
You slip forward as Seonghwa’s weight drops onto you and you brace yourself on the edge of the table, but San swoops in, “Come here, hyung, stop hanging on her,”
“Hmm?” Seonghwa’s eyes look tired when San gets him off you and over his shoulder, “Sannie?”
“Yeah,” San softens, “it’s just me,”
“I think I need to lie down,” Seonghwa murmurs, his head falling onto San’s ready shoulder.
“I know, hyung, I know,” San softens, and then turns to the table, “can we go?”
“Yeah,” Wooyoung stumbles as he gets up but then straightens, tucking himself under Seonghwa’s other arm once he gets his feet under him, “y/n, you good?”
You pull yourself up too, knocking back the final shot of soju so it doesn’t go to waste and pulling on your jacket, “Good,”
In the cool night air outside the bar everything gets dizzier, more watery and hazy, and something in your gut pulls hard. For a brief passing moment you wonder what Yunho and Mingi are doing right now.
San’s saying something and you shake yourself out of your stupor, “What’s that?”
“I said, where do you live?” He lets Wooyoung take more of Seonghwa’s weight as he turns his focus to you.
You give him your address, “I can call an Uber,”
“I live kind of close,” He nods, “let me take you,”
“You really don’t have to,”
“It would make me feel better,” San brushes you off immediately, “we’ve all been drinking, you shouldn’t be alone,”
“What about him?” You nod towards Seonghwa.
“I got him,” Wooyoung assures, “we live in the same building.”
“You sure?” San checks, “We can all go together,”
“It’s the opposite direction,” Wooyoung shakes his head, “and I’m tired, this just makes more sense,”
San nods and then checks on Seonghwa once more, “Make him drink some water, okay?”
“Yep,” Wooyoung salutes, rolls Seonghwa into an Uber, and then they’re gone.
Leaving you and San alone on the sidewalk.
“Let me get a car,” He says, shaking off some of his lingering drunkenness and pulling out his phone.
Of the three men, you talked to San the least. As the night had stretched on, you found yourself sidled up with Seonghwa or talking across the table animatedly with Wooyoung, but San seemed to give you a little space. He was also the one who commented the least on your recent sexual escapades and now standing in the middle of the street with him and him alone, you have no idea what you’ll talk about.
You watch as he types into his phone, lets it search, and then his nose crinkles, “Twenty minutes,”
“Oh,” You push up on your tiptoes to see his screen, “damn,”
He thinks for a minute and then sighs, “You want to walk a bit? I need to sober up a little anyways,”
“Sure,”
“Hungry?” His brows perk up.
“Definitely,” You smile.
“There’s places in our direction,” He waves you on, and you fall into lockstep with him as you wind out of the alley and back into the city streets.
It’s quiet for a moment, and you know one of you has to break the silence, but mercifully he gets there first, “You’re a good dancer, you know,”
“So are you,” You glance up at him, and he smiles.
He’s handsome, especially like this with his cheeks tinged pink with the night of drinking and his hair falling in his eyes. He directs you forward across an intersection and then looks down to keep talking, “You pick little things up really quickly, it’s impressive,”
“I appreciate that,” The alcohol seems to be less pervasive now that you’re out of the loud club and walking some of it off and you sigh, “honestly, I was staying late with Mingi a lot of nights. He was helping me catch up,”
“Ah,” San nods, “that makes sense,”
You keep walking. Normally you can get a conversation going without any problems, but with the alcohol and the late night and the fact that you really don’t know San all that well, you’re tongue tied.
He sighs heavily and looks at you, like he had been weighing whether or not to say something and finally chose to just do it anyway. “Don’t worry about what Seonghwa said,” He manages, “he was drunk, and I’m sure he wouldn’t have wanted to make you uncomfortable.”
“Oh,” Your stomach knots up, “he didn’t,”
“Good,” San nods, looking relieved, “he’s a good man, he’s,” San searches for his words for a moment, “not the type to proposition a coworker, that’s not what,”
“Oh!” It makes sudden sense why San was being so careful, offering to walk you home and trying to keep Seonghwa in check, “No, San, that’s not at all what I thought,”
“It’s not?” His eyebrow quirks up.
“No, I mean,” Your gaze falls away from him, “it probably should be, but I know he meant well. Plus, I know you both help Wooyoung,”
“Well,” San shakes his head, “that’s a little different,”
“Because you’re all men?”
He smiles, a little sheepish, “No, I was going to say because we’re old friends, but I guess there’s that too.”
“Ah,” You turn towards him, “well, really, you shouldn’t worry about me like that. Hwa was just trying to be a good friend, and I’m sure he won’t remember it tomorrow anyways,”
He sighs, relieved this time, “Good, okay,”
“Is that what you were worried about?” You ask.
“Between that and Woo practically interrogating you,” His nose crinkles again, “that part of your life is private, he shouldn’t pry like that.”
“I would have told him to stop,” You shake your head.
“I hope so,” He says, “I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with us after everything you’re dealing with. We like you in the crew,”
“You do?”
“Definitely,” He twists to meet your eyes, “you have fire. I saw it in the audition tape,”
Blush flushes your cheeks, “Thank you,”
“I’m just being honest,” He smiles.
You smile back.
It gets easier the more and more you walk with San. The alcohol slowly dissipates in both your systems, and after a few more blocks the idea of street food seems even more appealing. He refuses to let you pay and you only protest once, albeit weakly, before he gives you a simple shake of the head and takes care of things without another word.
It’s a thirty minute walk, especially at this meandering pace, but eventually you make it back to your block, and you don’t know what possesses you to turn the conversation back to Yunho and Mingi and everything it means but you do. He’s less shy to discuss it now, especially after enough time getting to know each other and sinking into a conversational rhythm.
By the time you make it to your apartment walkway, your corn dog is half eaten and your previous anxiety about talking to San is gone entirely. You gesture up to your building, “This is me,”
“Nice,” He comments, and then he takes a seat on your stoop and looks up at you, expectant.
“What?” You ask at his expression.
“You weren’t done, come on, tell me the rest,” He leans back against the railing, stretching out his legs.
“Right,” You remember yourself, flopping down onto the step next to him and running a hand through your hair, “where was I?”
“Yunho reminding you of your ex,” San prompts you.
“Ah,” You shake your head, “I mean not really, my ex was an asshole, but… I guess I didn’t know that for a long time. I thought he was nice, I thought he was the right guy.”
“And Yunho’s nice and the right guy?” He smirks.
“No, no,” You wave your hands, “fuck, I’m not making sense with this at all.”
“Can I guess?” San turns his body towards you a little more.
You nod.
“When your heat was over,” San’s expression is almost a little apologetic as he addresses it directly, “did you all agree it was just sex?”
“Yes,”
“And that you could all be adults about it?” He adds.
You nod again.
“And today you were all awkward as hell and avoiding each other?”
“Basically,”
“Listen,” San rests his hand on your knee, “I don’t know what your ex did or didn’t do, but they’re not that guy.”
“I know,” You sigh.
“But I get it,” San interrupts, “it feels like you had this connection and everything was good and now they’re pretending you don’t exist, and how is that different from any other guy?”
He has you there. You manage a nod.
“Well, I don’t know how they feel about you,” He offers, “but I promise you they’re just as embarrassed as you. It’s easy to say you’ll stay friends and that the lines won’t get blurred, but they always, always do.”
You study him for a moment, at the way he’s speaking so genuinely and it dawns on you, “You speak from experience, I’m guessing?”
He looks down and away, nodding before he brings his eyes back up to yours, “Yeah,”
“Woo?” You guess softly.
After an entire night of watching them lean against each other, touch each other, talk amongst themselves in their little bubble, you’re shocked when his mouth turns up into a sad smile and he shakes his head, “No, Woo and I have figured out how to make this whole thing easy,”
“Oh,”
“Wooyoung loves me, but he’s not in love with me.” San clarifies.
“And you?” You ask softly.
“He’s my best friend,” San says confidently, “and I’ll never let him be in pain,”
“But?” You nudge him.
“It was a long time ago,” He shakes his head and for the first time all night you know he’s told you a lie, but you let it pass. He shakes off the momentary lapse and continues, “but I know how you’re feeling.”
“Then how do I make it right?” You ask him.
“Sometimes you can’t,” He says honestly, “sometimes one person just feels so much more than the other, and you try to make it work until you bend so much for them you break.”
“I know what Woo said,” You shake your head, “but I’m not in love with them. I’m not.”
“I trust you,” San nods, “you know yourself better than Youngie.”
“It’s just this thing inside me,” You confess, and maybe it’s the alcohol or the lateness of the hour but you feel safer here on your stoop with him than you have in a long, long time, so you keep confessing. “I wish sometimes so much that I could just be a beta, that I could forget all about this and just know for sure. I’ve… never known anything for real and how am I supposed to trust anything I feel if my body just decides for me.”
He’s quiet for a moment, but then he says, “Being an omega is a beautiful thing,”
“Don’t,” You shake your head sharply, “I’ve heard that one all my life,”
“It is,” He insists, “all of it’s beautiful. Every part and piece of us is, alpha, beta, omega, all of it.”
“San, that’s not,”
“I know what you meant,” San says softly, sliding his hand into yours and giving you a squeeze, “and it would be easier to be a beta, and to not have to wonder every time. Does the person you like feel right because you like them or because something about them is a good biological match?”
“Exactly,”
“Believe me,” He squeezes you again, “I get it.”
Tears prickle in your eyes and you swallow hard to clear them, “Then how do I make this work? How do I go back to the studio and put this behind me?”
“Is that what you want?” He checks, thumb stroking along the back of your hand.
“Yes,” You sigh, “it doesn’t even matter how I feel or don’t feel, I can’t take that risk here,”
“The work is more important,” He finishes for you.
“Yes.”
“Then don’t let them in again,” San says simply, “not like before. Be friends, but keep things professional. Get some distance from this whole thing,”
“I have a feeling this is not the advice Woo would be giving me,” You smile.
“No,” San laughs, “Wooyoung would tell you to open yourself up to the great mystery of being loved or something,”
“And you’re not a romantic,” You smirk.
“No, no,” He shakes his head, “I am, but being a romantic doesn’t mean you have to let people hurt you. I’ve seen Woo get his heart broken a dozen times now, and he keeps trying. He’s the strongest person I know, and I love him for it, but it’s not the only way.”
“So what he said at the bar,” You tuck your unfinished food into the little bag and leave it to the side, “what he said about my heat?”
“I mean,” He shrugs, “y/n, this isn’t your first time. Don’t listen to him,”
“But Seonghwa,” You remember the way Seonghwa agreed, like a scent match was the stars aligning.
“Fuck them both,” San shakes his head, “just because you had a connection with them doesn’t mean they’re the only people you can connect with.”
Your eyes fill with tears again and he shakes his head when he sees your hazy eyes, brushing your jaw softly with his fingers. You swallow hard and sigh, breath hitching in your chest, “You know what’s funny about this?”
“Hmm?” He brushes your jaw again.
“I don’t even want to date right now, I just,” You shrug lightly, “I want to work. I want to have friends. I want to go out and meet people or stay in if I feel like it. I don’t want to sit on the couch pining or walk on eggshells at the studio,”
“y/n,” San steadies you, his voice low and calm, “listen to me, okay?”
“Okay,” You murmur.
“You have work to do, so focus on it. You have friends, including me, and Woo, and Seonghwa, okay? You come out with us… or don’t,” He smiles and squeezes your hand, “and the studio will feel weird for a little while, but trust yourself, it will fade.”
“It will,” You nod, “you’re right,”
He nods, holding your gaze a little longer until he gives you one more squeeze. San shifts back to give you a little space, his hands leaving you and clasping together to hang between his legs. He smiles, “Do you feel any better?”
“Yeah,” You run your hands through your hair and let out a long, tired exhale.
“Sobered up?” He checks.
“Mostly,” You nod, checking your watch, “but it’s so late I’m still going to be feeling it tomorrow,”
“Mm,” He nods, “we aren’t starting until eleven though,”
“True,”
The night is drawing to a close, you can feel it. You don’t really want to be alone with your thoughts again, but you’re also so tired you think you might drop on the spot, so you start to pull away and hope that you’ll be able to fall asleep the minute you hit the pillows.
He pushes himself up to stand and offers you a hand to help you to your feet, “Should I walk you up?”
You shake your head, “I got it,”
“I’ll wait until you get in,” He smiles and nods.
You make it two steps up before you turn back to him, “Thank you, San,” you tell him, “for everything tonight, really,”
He smiles wider, his eyes crinkling up and he nods again, “Don’t thank me, just remember what I said.”
“I will,”
“And y/n,” He calls after you as you start back up the path, “sleep well,”
“You too, Sannie,” You give him one last look before you push open your apartment door and start up the steps. He doesn’t budge, making sure you’re in the door before he pulls out his phone and starts his short walk home.
Coming home this time doesn’t hurt the same.
You hope for more of the same tomorrow.
You hope every day that it fades away, little by little.
#ateez#honeyhotteoks fics#honeyhotteoks series#this night together fic#yungi x reader#yungi smut#yunho x reader#mingi x reader#ateez ff#ateez series#yunho series#mingi series#yunho fic#mingi fic
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How I Run Wildshape
Listen, "wildshape rules are fucking stupid" is not a fresh or hot take. Level 3: You can transform twice a day. Level 19: You can still transform twice a day! But now you can stay transformed for longer.
(Because as we all know, "eight-hour strategy commitments" are the core of how most people play D&D.)
And then of course: Level 20: INFINITE WILDSHAPES! You go from "2 per day" to "UNLIMITED! YOU GET A SQUIRREL AND YOU GET A SQUIRREL AND YOU GET A SQUIRREL, EVERYBODY GETS A SQUIRREL" and that's insane.
Tl;dr: The core appeal to me of playing druid at all is the shapeshifting. I would, genuinely, prefer it if the druid class was a half-caster that focused heavily on the shapeshifting mechanic--and before you all pile onto me in the notes, I know there's barbarian subclasses that bring in some shifter flavor, but that's not really what I'm talking about. I want to play a druidic shapeshifter.
So here's how I house-rule Wildshapes at my table (if, of course, the player is interested--I'm not out here forcing OTHER people to play THEIR characters the way I prefer, come on now) and then, just for fun, a couple of wildshape variants I've thought up but never had the chance to really play with, that DMs might offer as optional druidic feats.
If anyone with more experience and skill than me at putting together subclasses ever wants to yoink these, please do. Please. Someone fix this.
Core Wildshape
The no-frills replacement to RAW wildshape, just a 1:1 replacement.
You have a number of Wildshape charges equal to half your Druid level, rounded up.
Each Wildshape charge allows you to take one animal form, with restrictions as listed on the Beast Shapes table, for up to one hour.
There are no "partial charges," so transforming for five minutes uses the full charge just as if you'd transformed for a full hour.
Charges can be chained together seamlessly; if you choose to remain transformed past the first hour, you simply expend another Wildshape charge. You can also move directly from one Wildshape form to another by expending a new Wildshape charge. (This isn't Animorphs; you don't have to "re-transform" between charges.)
Wildshape Variants
Variant: Feral
(Prerequisite: Druid level 8)
Your communion with nature has made you as comfortable in the form of animals as in your own skin--if not more so.
You have a number of Wildshape charges equal to your Druid level. Beginning at level 12, your Wildshape forms can have a CR equal to 1/3 your Druid level, rounded down.
Variant: Druidic Avatar
You have achieved deep congruence with one of your animal forms, such that it has become tightly associated with you. Choose one wildshape form of size Small, Medium, or Large as your avatar.
While in this form, you can cast spells as normal, replacing verbal components with appropriate animal noises, as long as any necessary material components are physically present (being absorbed into your wildshape form when you transformed counts).
You can choose to alter your avatar when you take a long rest. Once you have done this, you cannot alter it again until one month has passed.
Variant: Deepwoods Shifter
Your travels in the wildest and most remote woodlands have given you a deep understanding of many forms of life beyond simple beasts--forms of life that are, to you, no less natural.
You have a short list of Deepwoods forms. Choose one non-humanoid creature, of no higher than CR 1, of a type other than Beast, to begin this list. Every time you are given the option of an ability score improvement (applied retroactively), you may choose another non-Beast, non-humanoid creature form with a CR of 1/3 your Druid level, rounded down, to add to your list.
These choices can be altered whenever a new form is added to the list.
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Karting around
Lando Norris x reader
•in which one small choice will get you to the Bahrain gp paddock.
Lando will never forget the day you met. How you tripped on a kart and almost fell on your way to clear the tires off of the circuit the day he went karting with friends during summer break.
The hot summer day and the amount of work you had to do was not a good mixture with sleep deprivation from the final semester of your bachelor's. Picking up summer programs was not a wise choice. "At least it would end sooner" you had thought as you handed in the form. Now you regretted it.
The job in the racing track had been your motivation to keep going. After getting into Formula 1, this was the cheapest and the closest thing you could get to the experience. You started racing karts and landed a job on the same track a couple of months later. Never knowing this small choice would lead to a bigger fate and gravely embarrassing yourself infront of professional drivers of the fastest cars in the world was the price to pay to get to it.
"Be careful are you okay?" Lando reached his hand for you to hold onto to prevent you from falling. He was too far away but you caught yourself just in time.
"Yes." You exhaled sharply in relief, "this guy is begging me to ride him...that sounded so weird sorry." You pointed at the blue and yellow LN go-kart you tripped on. The track's new owner had bough quite a few of them. You even learned how to drive a go-kart on them so you were super excited about the owner visiting, wanting to look good, yet you ruined it, twice.
You looked up at Lando, who was trying not to laugh at your joke. You didn't think the joke itself was funny to him, but the way it sounded dirty was making him giggle. You noticed his eyes wrinkle when he did.
"Wanna give it a go?"
Your raised your head with the suggestion.
"So you could beat the crap out of me?" You immediately wished you lead a more polite life and wouldn't keep making yourself look worse.
But Lando didn't seem to care much. The blue of his eyes kept looking deeper in the shade.
"How about we give you a headstart? The karts are all the same it won't be like F1."
You suspiciously looked back at him, "is this a make a wish situation? Mind you I am not dying yet."
He laughed. "I promise we made this choice ourselves. It'll be fun with one more driver. Your boss told me you have experience. Come on." He gestured you to follow him.
"I sort of wish he didn't."
***
Five minutes later there you all were, you in your rental helmet and everyone else in their custom designed ones.
Despite your liking, they all agreed to let you start at the front of the pack with them starting a little further from the line.
The flag was waved and off you went. Pushing hard on the gas, trying so hard to beat at least one of the four people racing against you. Three were F1 drivers so you were focused on beating the other man. The only thing your mind was thinking was "don't lose" and you even surprised yourself since not even in go-kart championships, did you push so hard to win.
By the final lap your core muscles were extremely sore and your grip on the wheel felt numb. You had no idea if you had lost yet but you kept on going and you crossed the line with a simple exhale like you had kept all your breaths in the whole race. This was the first time you felt so out of your own body.
A slight tap of the finger on your helmet brought you back on earth,
"You still there?" Lando's voice sounded stuffy through your helmet.
He offered his hand which you took to stand up, taking off your helmet after.
"Your speed was insane are you alright?" Lando put a hand on your shoulder, bending over a bit to look you in the eye, making sure you're fine.
You nodded yes and started walking towards the building to ask about your lap times.
"Lap time goes: Lando, Alex, .... wow.. y/n, George and Mike."
The "What??" You screamed was the third embarrassment you put yourself through that day. But it was all worth it. You started jumping around making weird noises to your coworker who had just read the names.
Later on George would claim he was trying to be nice and gave you the spot because he wanted to make you look good infront of Lando because he knew you two would end up together.
***
Lando kept coming back to kart with different groups of people. Different drivers, family members, friends. And you had become a member of their racing bunch throughout summer.
Couple days to the official new formula1 season, while your shift was ending and men with cameras were walking in to take some pictures from Lando and his Quadrant team for publicity, Lando pulled you to the side.
He started out hesitant but you didn't really notice at first.
"Before you go I wanted to ask you this once in a lifetime question."
"That would be the second one this summer then."
He smiled, you had become a little closer, a little friendlier during the summer. You felt like it was okay to try and make him laugh.
"How would you like to be a special guest in the Bahrain gp paddock? I might be able to show you around."
You didn't know what to say. Your hands started to sweat and your heartbeat got fast. Was this part of the dream you were having or was it all real?
"What? Yes of course. Yes yes."
So you exchanged numbers and he told you that your trip will be paid for. After a couple months of dating you realized that was just Lando's way of asking for your number. Offering something big to get something small. Maybe that's how it worked for the rich.
You said your goodbyes and waited a couple days for Lando to send you further information.
And this was only the beginning.
#lando norris#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 x female reader#lando x reader#bahrain gp 2024#george russell#alex albon#mclaren#karting
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Fuck the Rich
Sooo, I wrote a smutty little one-shot (you can read here or on A03)
Thank you to @athenasparrow for her lovely ✨ Smut Sprinkle ✨ of bending ppl over counters 😉 It really got Lily going 😆
Rating: E Word Count: 11.5k
Warning: Long lead up and then pretty fucking filthy. Lily is super bitter and jaded here — basically what I see could have happened if she’d never given James a chance. And… rich ppl bashing? Is that something I have to warn about? Is that a plus? Again, I dunno, you decide. 🤷🏼♀️
Read story after the line ↓
Fuck, she hated rich people.
Lily grimaced to herself as she followed the frail, old lady through the halls of her larger than life mansion situated here on this vast, sprawling estate. The woman had had the audacity to look at her watch when Lily arrived (at exactly her scheduled start time) as if she was trying to ‘politely’ admonish her for being late. The funny thing about rich people was they loved ‘joking’ that your pay should be docked if you were even a second past the hour, but never seemed to think you should be compensated if you showed up twenty minutes early and they insisted you get to work right away. ‘Because, well, if you’re already here anyway!’
That’s why Lily had started showing up precisely when her paycheck began raking in Galleons. With Apparation, it was just so easy to do. Why give anyone her free labor? This job wasn’t even her passion — it was just her means of keeping her (small, crumbling, hardly suitable) roof over her head.
Fuck. She shouldn’t be thinking like this. Being a chef wasn’t that bad. Honestly, Lily would even enjoy it if she didn’t feel like it was a job she was forced into out of sheer necessity. What was even the point of graduating the top of her class at Hogwarts if no one was hiring her kind? Ahem, let her rephrase that, people without experience who also, just so happened — weird coincidence really, definitely don’t quote us — to be Muggle-born. Lily had watched rejection after rejection owl in from all the prestigious potion companies, followed by the average ones, and then even from the potion shop down the street from her. It turned out a handwritten letter of recommendation from Professor Slughorn himself couldn’t convince the owner of Pop-Up Potions that hiring Lily was worth the possible Death Eater retaliatory attack.
Lily wished that people understood that ‘staying out of it’ was very much still picking a side. And that side was the wrong one.
So, Lily had licked her wounds and tried not to get more and more bitter as all her friends, and enemies, found jobs she would have killed for while she had to scramble for gig economy work. Eventually, she was hired as a chef for a luxury catering company. It worked because she was kept out of sight in the kitchens, and the clients were never the same (but always so insanely wealthy), so no one had to worry about being attacked for employing an undesirable. At first, Lily didn’t understand why the families that hired her didn’t just use their house-elves’ cooking, but she supposed that everyone wanted to try new dishes every now and again. (And a darker, more cynical side of her wondered if these rich prats secretly got off on making other humans serve them.)
Lily got to use her potions skills, but instead of making life-saving brews like she wanted to, she was using her magic to make the best damn five course meal of these people’s lives — all by herself. Who needed a sous chef when you had a wand?
The best part of her job was the pride that came from seeing all her food, all lined up and ready to go, and knowing it was scrumptious and she could replicate it again for herself at home — even though it would have to be with slightly less expensive ingredients. The worst part was knowing sometimes her creations were going to feed the very same people who were pushing her to the outskirts of society. She would never forget the day she accidentally overheard some of her clients say how ‘Muggle-born rights had gone too far.’ It was insane to think that she was somehow good enough to make them their food, but apparently not good enough for anything else. Their logic was infuriating.
And that’s how she ended up here: following this lady through the maze of her home, being told ‘not to touch anything — it’s all antique family heirlooms.’
It’s all Merlin-awfully hideous, is what it is. Why this lady was convinced that Lily would want to run off with her gold-framed oil painting of a basket of fruit was so beyond her.
“And here we are!” the lady announced, pushing open the swinging door to her gigantic kitchen. “I’m sure the house-elves are around here somewhere if you need help finding anything.” Lily knew what that meant: don’t ask me because I’ve literally never used this kitchen before in my life so I wouldn’t even know where we keep the spoons. She turned to leave, but then stopped dramatically. “Oh! The countertops are Italian marble, so they—”
“Stain instantly,” Lily finished for her. She would never understand this. Why on earth would anyone ever pay a premium to install a surface into their kitchen that made it practically unusable? Even a mere drop of lemon juice could forever tarnish the damn entire slab. Because they’re not the ones who have to use it, Lily. You and the house-elves are… “Not to worry,” Lily said out loud as she swished her wand, covering all the counters in a shiny film of magic. “This will protect it.”
The old lady’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”
Another thing Lily just loved about rich people? They always assumed the help was so, so dumb. “Yes. Please don’t worry. I’ve done this countless times. Your counters will be spotless when I leave.”
The lady nodded, either mollified by Lily’s words or by the knowledge that she could simply sue Lily’s company for new marble countertops afterwards, and left out the door.
Lily let out a huge sigh of relief, glad to finally be alone. She opened her tote bag and began emptying out all her coolers before magicking them back to size. If she recalled correctly, tonight’s event was an engagement party — so while the food was always expected to be delicious, tonight its presentation had to be absolutely flawless. Basically, the plates would have to look like edible art — but yummy. Always yummy.
After briefly being greeted by her manager, Lily started on the hors d’oeuvres, laughing a little to herself when she saw the menu choices. Okay, one of the people getting married still had the appetite of a child, because for every high-end option like ‘ahi tuna on a gluten-free wonton crisp topped with a wasabi aioli drizzle’, there was a ‘pig in a blanket with ketchup’ alternative as well. (Truth be told, the appetizers that looked like they belonged on the kids’ menu were always the biggest crowdpleasers. Even with the rich.) She knew which hors d’oeuvres her servers would be fighting to pass tonight. (No one liked having to be the poor sod who had to push ‘goat cheese on a Belgian endive’ on anyone. Coming back to the kitchen with anything other than a completely empty tray was discouraged.)
“Hello, Lil,” Mary, her favorite server and also longtime friend, said as she arrived in the kitchen shortly afterwards.
Lily embraced her in a quick hug. “Mm, you smell nice.”
“You smell like bacon. What’s on the menu?”
Lily laughed as she handed it over. “Knock yourself out.”
Mary’s smile dripped off her face seconds later. “Lil… why does this menu say ‘Black Engagement Party’?!”
Lily snatched the sheet back. “Oh bollocks, seriously?” If she had to make a list of all the affluent, entitled Purebloods that she didn’t want to serve, the Blacks would probably be at the top of that list. “I didn’t think they had an estate out here?” She looked around the kitchen as if there would be a bright neon sign that read ‘Food for Purebloods Only’ just lying about.
“I dunno,” Mary said, shrugging her shoulders.
“Hang on, no,” Lily reasoned desperately. “The woman that let me in — she was the lady of the house and I didn’t recognize her.” The Black family loved being in all the society pages of The Prophet. As much as Lily hated to admit it, she would probably be able to identify the lot of them.
Mary’s eyes got large as saucers. “Unless…”
“Quaffle, have you seen—?” Lily didn’t even get to prompt Mary to continue, because just a second later, a handsome, unfairly fit wizard whom Lily hadn’t seen since graduation three years prior ambled into the kitchen. He stuffed a hand into his hair, and Lily hated that she remembered the quirk so well. “Oh. Hey Evans.”
Fuuuuuuccccckkkkk. Lily did a mental replay of her morning routine to recall if she’d put on some makeup, or even paid any attention to her appearance at all. She had not. “Potter,” she replied shortly.
“Fuck,” Mary whispered the word of the day under her breath before zooming off. Lily assumed she was finding a bathroom where she could compose herself — or have a nervous breakdown. If James Potter was here, then there was a near certain likelihood that the Black who had gotten engaged was Sirius — aka Mary’s ex-boyfriend. Lily’s heart ached for her friend. Was there anything worse than having to serve your ex and his newly beloved? She thought not.
“She all right?” James asked concerned, looking at the still swinging door that Mary had exited through.
“She’ll be fine,” Lily lied, covering for her. “Can I help you?”
“Oh, uh,” James said, shifting from one foot to the other, clearly finding himself off-kilter with Lily’s unexpected appearance. “I was just looking for my house-elf.”
Oh. Oh my gods, of course! This is his house! Well. His parents’ house… Lily slowly closed her eyes and took a deep breath in through her nose. She’d known he was rich, but she’d never imagined he was castle-on-the-hill type of wealthy. His whole privileged, popular air at school made so much more sense now. He’d always been annoying, and for a year straight he’d asked her out as a joke, but after she’d temporarily hexed his bollocks off at the end of 5th year (Pomfrey had not been amused), he’d finally gotten the message and steered clear of her. Last Lily heard, he was working for his dad’s potions company — because of course he was.
“Haven’t seen them,” Lily replied.
“Right, okay,” James said awkwardly, looking wholly uncomfortable. Lily wondered if he was still a little bit afraid of her. She supposed that would be a reasonable reaction — she doubted anyone else had ever temporarily castrated him. But in her defense, she had told him if he ever asked her out one more time that she would.
What could Lily say? She was a woman of her word. Her stubborn, stubborn word.
She took a moment to take him in. There had been a couple of times (okay, maybe more than a couple) her final year at Hogwarts that she’d wondered if she had perhaps made a mistake in rejecting him. He’d obviously matured quite a bit, and honestly, he wasn’t too bad on the eyes…
Well, looking at him now, here in his kitchen, he’d only gotten better. He seemed to have finally found a good hairstyle that worked well with his luscious locks, not too long and not too short, and it let his soft curls have a bit of bounce in all their beautiful disarray. He’d also filled into his formerly lanky body quite nicely, and Lily was definitely noticing the slight strain to his shirt sleeves around his biceps and the cut lines of his forearms. His arms. Honestly, those were probably what did her in the most at school… If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the traitorous sting of jealousy the day Emmeline Vance had leaned over to him across her desk and doodled on one of his arms with her quill. She couldn’t explain back then why her blood had boiled quite so ferociously, but she probably could now… if she thought about it. (She didn’t want to think about it.)
Either way, the same hazel gaze that had peeved her before now pierced, and even in his uncertainty, he was still exuding a confidence that had definitely been lacking before. At school he’d given a boyish performance of arrogance. Now, he simply oozed the self-assurance of a man. And a dangerously sexy one at that.
Fuck, Lily thought for what felt like the thousandth time this evening. She was far too horny to be at work. She hadn’t gotten properly laid in way too long, and clearly it was manifesting itself in strange ways. She’d never slept with any of her clients, obviously, but she’d also never even had any sort of desire to.
There is no need to start now, she told her body to no avail.
“Do you need anything else?” she asked him. Sure, he lived here, but if there was anything she hated, it was hosts who hovered in her space while she was trying to do her job — handsome hosts or not. (She was telling herself she hated his presence, ooh, she was telling herself that.)
“Nope,” James replied. “Is there anything you need?”
Oh, so many fucking things, and none of them are PG.
Lily shook her head, trying to clear her unsanctioned, gutter musings. Unfortunately, the follow-up thoughts were not very helpful either. Was this the first time a client had ever offered to help her? Like… with anything? How in the world was it James friggin’ Potter who was showing her more common decency than all the previous pompous wankers combined?
The bar was truly so low.
Just before she could gape at him for too long, wand hand slightly sagging while attempting to chop her onions, her manager Greg came rushing through the door, looking at his clipboard. “Shit, Rebecca’s just called in sick. We’re gonna be short-staffed tonight. Where’s Mary?”
Lily winced. If there was one rule in catering, it was to never let the guests see you sweat. “In the bathroom?” she said mousily, hoping her tone would convince Greg to look up and realize they weren’t alone.
It did. “Oh! Mr Potter!” Greg schmoozed, his demeanor completely shifting to pleasant and ingratiating. “I didn’t see you there!”
“Oh, you can just call me James,” he said, offering his hand out for Greg to shake. “Mr Potter makes me sound like my father.”
“And what a compliment that must be! I’m Greg. I’m your party’s manager tonight.”
Barf. Lily didn’t hate that Greg groveled, because she was sure it often got them extra tips, she just hated that he had to.
James chuckled good-naturedly for Greg's sake while he clapped his hands together. “I feel like since I’m the groom’s best man and live here, I’m duty-bound to be of service. So seriously, if you’re understaffed or need any help tonight, you can always put me to work.”
Greg laughed even though his face said he was crying of mortification on the inside. “No! Nooo, absolutely no need. We got this all under control! Please, don’t let us stop you from getting ready! Everything will go off without a hitch on our end!”
James gave Lily one last good look, making her uneasy and inexplicably twitchy, before giving Greg a nod and leaving.
Fuck. What was that? And how dare he make her so wet? She was at work!
“Shit!” Greg whispered, breaking Lily’s strange trance. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me we had the goddamn host in the kitchen?!”
Could she point out it wasn’t her job to make her manager open his damn eyes? “Sorry.”
Greg rubbed his forehead. “It’s fine.” He sighed. “Now where’s Mary?”
Lily pointed to the door she’d left through, wanting him to go away so she could have peace. No angry managers, no sultry blasts from the past — simply her and her food. Suddenly the end of this shift couldn’t come fast enough. Sure, she wasn’t ashamed of what she did for work, but she knew that deep down, she wished that the first time she saw James after years wasn’t while cooking at his place for a party that she hadn’t been invited to. Obviously you weren’t invited; you were never a part of that circle! But still: it was weird, and Lily didn’t like it.
Now if only she could stop thinking about how bloody good he looked, then maybe everything would be okay.
☆☆☆
“Shit! Shit shit shit shiiiiit!” Greg wheezed, ambling back into the kitchen, not having learnt his lesson and still not looking up, only five minutes later. “Mary says she’s sick and is going home now too! We only have one server for like fifty super upscale guests! This is a disaster!”
“Maybe they both caught the same bug?” Lily fibbed. Rebecca wasn’t a liar, so she probably actually was sick, but Mary deserved someone to have her back today. “We all worked the same party last night.”
Greg looked up at her pointedly. “Don’t you dare get sick on me too. I won’t let you leave. If you vomit, vomit away from the food.”
Ew. “Roger that.”
So half an hour later, Greg and one poor, overworked server were pushing out all the appetizers by themselves while Lily started on the entrees between heating duties.
“The truffle honey brie cups are ready,” Lily said as she heard the door swing open.
“Roger that.”
Lily looked up startled, this time actually dropping her wand. It turned out she too hadn’t learnt from Greg’s mistake.
It was James. He still says that, she thought (somehow) breathlessly.She’d nearly forgotten that the whole reason she said that silly phrase was because it was practically all he’d ever reply to her at Head meetings when they’d been Head Girl and Boy. She’d started parroting it back to him in jest, but then it had sort of… stuck.
It was weird to realize all these years later that he’d had any impact on her, even if it was something as small as a slight tweak to her vernacular.
Before Lily could react, he bent down to pick up her wand off the floor, offering it to her. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He had changed out of his grey teeshirt and jeans and was now wearing a crisp navy blue button-up, tastefully (albeit cruelly) unbuttoned two notches. He’d always had beautiful, flawless skin, and that still seemed to be the case, although she didn’t think she’d ever seen that particular patch. She’d made a point to never go to Quidditch matches back in school lest she witness any more reasons to regret her decision to reject him.
“You’re fine,” she said under her breath, trying to ignore the way her fingers had to brush his to take her wand back. Okay, so they hadn’t had to, but she’d wanted them too. Damn, I shouldn’t want to touch him. She turned around to direct all her fingerling potatoes into neat little piles across fifty plates.
“You doing okay in here?”
“Huh?” Sure, she was a professional, but it still took a lot of concentration to keep so many moving parts going.
“Are you doing okay?” he repeated. “I figured Mary bounced after she realized this party was for Sirius because… well. You know.”
Lily turned back to face him, finding him tugging at his hair again. He had to stop doing that. It was making her want to do it for him. “Yeah…” Wow, of course he still remembers Mary. She had dated his best mate in school. Naturally, they must have hung out too. If Lily recalled correctly, Mary had tried to persuade her on many occasions that James was actually a decent bloke, but Lily hadn’t wanted to listen. Of course Mary had said that — she was in love with his best friend! She probably wanted some sort of harmony amongst her people or had some silly daydream about double dates and whatnot. Mary had dropped the topic when she’d realized Lily was going to remain obstinate about the whole thing.
She’d truly always been too pigheaded for her own good.
Lily cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes, we’ll manage just fine. We always do. Sorry you heard all that, but I’m sure your family will be reimbursed for getting less staff than you paid for.”
James’ brows scrunched as he observed her. “Evans,” he began slowly, “it’s me. You don’t have to give me your whole customer service bullshit.” She watched as his pronounced Adam’s apple bobbed with what looked like a parched swallow. "We know each other.”
A shiver ran down Lily’s spine, and like most of the feelings she experienced around this man, she wasn’t quite sure why. Did they? Did they know each other at all?I mean, they’d shared a bunch of classes years ago, but had they ever really talked more than a few jibes here and there? She pushed all the confusion away. “Sorry Potter, but I really need to get these plates ready or else—”
“Then put me to use,” James said simply as he committed the single biggest sexy sin: he deftly popped open his cufflinks before slowly rolling up his sleeves.
Oh, fuck you. Was he trying to torture her? Kitchens were already notoriously hot enough without James Potter parading himself around like some sort of mouthwatering arm candy. “That’s okay—”
“Seriously, Evans. I don’t know if you remember, but I’m actually quite good at magic.” She really hoped he didn’t notice she was still fixated on his gorgeous hands and forearms. “So go on. Order me about. I remember you really used to love doing that.”
Oh man. Yep. She was still too horny for this — because that? Him telling her to ‘use him’ and ‘boss him around’ was really doing things for her. Deciding it was easier to just put him to work rather than fight him on it, Lily blew a stray strand of hair that had escaped her bun off of her forehead before showing him the correct wandwork for how to place the filet mignon slices in a delightful staggered row. At least this way, she’d have enough time to finish up her sauce.
They worked side by side for some time, Lily wholeheartedly trying to ignore just how much she liked having him there. Sure, watching a man cook was sexy in and of itself, but just…knowing that there was this whole party going on on the other side of that wall, but instead of being there, he was electing to stay and help her?
Honestly, the whole thing sort of made her want him to bend her over this stupid-ass marble countertop and do her right there. Why could she picture that so easily? Her leggings around her ankles, his hand bracing against the cabinets above her while he pounded into her again and again from behind, bruising her hips as they bumped rhythmically against the counter. She rubbed her thighs together, almost wishing she could feel the soreness that should be there — that would be, if only he let her use him in the manner she so desperately craved.
Fuck, she needed some water. And maybe a cigarette. (She had never even smoked a day in her life.)
“How have you been?” he asked, finally breaking the amicable, if not highly charged, silence between them.
“Fine,” she lied. It was easier to sugarcoat things. She truly doubted he’d ever understand her problems. Why would he? He obviously lived a completely different life.
He nodded.
A few seconds later, she realized it was probably really rude if she didn’t at least ask him the same thing back. “And you?”
James looked at her and smiled, a genuinely warm and lovely smile, and Lily felt her heart skip the smallest of beats. “Good, yeah, really good. Happy for Pads of course.”
“Oh yeah,” Lily hummed noncommittally. “Getting married.”
“Yup.”
“That’s crazy.”
“You think so?” he asked her, completely taking her by surprise.
“I mean, yeah,” Lily fumbled. “We’re still quite young…”
James shrugged. “When you know, you know.”
Lily swished her wand and watched as a sprig of rosemary deposited itself onto every piping hot dish, finishing the plates’ perfect appearance. “I guess.”
James folded his arms and turned to her, leaning back against the (far too saucy) counter. “What? You don’t believe in love or something?”
“No, I do.” Why had the question unnerved her so much? Why did she suddenly feel so defensive?
“We’re just too young?” he pushed.
Lily’s eyes shot up to his with his choice of words. We aren’t anything, at least not together — not in that sense. But the more she saw his eyes shining through his glasses, challenging, twinkling with mischievous mirth, the more she decided she was so down to bang him. The thought had morphed from a naughty daydream to a full-blown mission in record time, but screw it, we are young. Wasn’t youth all about making mistakes and doing what you wanted? She was horny, and if he was anything like he was at school, he was probably also down, so why the fuck not? She’d probably never see him again, so as far as no-strings attached hookups went, he was probably the best she was going to get. Besides, she wanted to shag him. Like, really, truly wanted to have him blow out her back and break her mind from how hard she wanted him to fuck her. Shouldn’t that be reason enough?
It was just sex.
Fuck it, let’s fuck him.
Now all she had to do was glean if he was actually down — but come on, he was spending like a quarter of this party with her; this had to be his motive. Get in her good graces so he could get in her pants — it was practically what he’d tried to do back at Hogwarts, but he hadn’t been as smooth back then. Or maybe she just hadn’t been this desperate, who knew?
Then, once she was sure he was game, she had to figure out how to make it happen.
“Shouldn’t you be out at the party doing best man duties?” she fished.
James’ eyes dropped to her lips and back before his own slipped into a smirk. “He’s so wrapped all over Aya right now, I doubt he’s even noticed I’m gone.”
Oooh, so that’s it. Lily held back a scoff. Weddings always had a special way of making single people feel lonely as hell. Lily was cool with that. If he wanted to fuck away his wedding-related blues and she wanted a good lay to make her temporarily forget all the injustices of the world, that sounded like a win-win to her.
“Lily are the—”
Lily hadn’t even realized her lower lip was between her teeth until Greg’s sudden intrusion into the kitchen had made her bite down on it. “Ow.”
“Mr Potter!” Her manager sounded borderline hysterical. “Can we help you?”
“Oh no, Greg. Lily was just being kind enough to entertain me for a bit. I’ll get out of everyone’s way.” He pushed off the counter, walking past Lily with the brush of his palm against her lower back.
She normally hated it when guys did that. She did not hate it this time. Oh he is so fucking down. She grinned to herself smugly. The rest of the evening passed by pleasantly swift after that.
☆☆☆
“Thank you so much! Really, everyone was simply raving about the food!” the frail, old lady — apparently James’ mum — said at the end of the party when only the last few stragglers were left mingling by the edge of the bar in their backyard. Lily suspected the rest of her crew would probably have to stay another hour for cleanup, but mercifully, she could go home now.
“I’m glad everyone liked it,” Lily said politely, trying not to look at James standing by his mother’s side. It felt wrong to acknowledge him in his mother’s presence considering all the filthy ways she’d already fantasized about taking him that night. After James had helped her make dinner, he’d popped back around for desserts, and then even again afterwards to slip her a glass of champagne. Normally, the servers would be the ones to do that — ‘I’ll sneak you some booze if you sneak me some food’ — but with how crazy the party had been, obviously this hadn’t been the case tonight. Also, Lily had never encountered a server brazen enough to bring Lily a glass of the really good stuff. She had no doubt that she had probably been sipping on a hundred Galleons worth of bubbly. James had choked a little bit when Lily had splashed a dash of orange juice into her flute, but honestly, she didn’t care. If it tasted better ‘ruined,’ then so be it.
Oh, how the other half lives.
James’ mum turned to him. “Will you please be a dear and give this woman her tip and then see her out?”
Lily resisted the urge to roll her eyes. I don’t want your damn oil paintings, lady. Lily almost laughed to herself as she amended, Just your son’s dignity.
James had the decency to blush with his mum’s command. “Of course.” His mother patted him on the chest before leaving for a separate door that Lily assumed led upstairs.
And then they were alone. Lily checked to make sure she’d shrunk and stashed away all her coolers before removing the counter protection spell.
“Got everything?” James prompted. Did he feel slightly awkward too? Was he perhaps also figuring out a way to get the two of them just as alone upstairs where they could have a little more privacy?
“Oh…” Lily smiled as she turned around and reached for the water bottle that she may have placed on the far reaches of the counter solely so that she could bend over to grab it. If she had to be tortured by the desire to have him fuck her against it all night, then the least he could do was join her in her pain for two seconds. “Got it,” she said innocently as she turned around, hoisting her tote bag higher over her shoulder before slipping her water inside.
She’d never seen James’ cheeks rosier. It was oddly endearing. She wondered if he’d always had a smattering of freckles across his nose, or if they had shown up with his darkening tan. They’re probably new and due to his increased time for lavish vacations now that he’s out of school.
Ugh.
“Great,” James said, still seemingly having a hard time looking her in the eye after her little stunt. “Let me just take you to the vault for a second.”
“Excuse me?” Vault? What?
James looked at her horrified. “It’s not in the basement or anything—”
Lily laughed. “I don’t think you’re gonna kidnap me, Potter. I was more pointing out the absurdity of someone having a vault in their home.”
“Oh.” He looked kind of lost for words. Clearly he didn’t even realize it was absurd. Maybe everyone he knew had one. “Right.”
Lily followed him out of his kitchen and down the hall.
“So you had a good night?” he asked.
“It was all right. Yours?”
“Only all right?” he prodded, turning around and walking backwards so that he could look at her with a boyish grin as he continued leading the way.
Oof. Stop. I’m already gonna fuck you; you don’t have to be any more charming. “I mean, I was working, so…”
James’ nose twitched before he came to a stop. “Right.” He opened an ornate door and cast a special charm on a thick titanium box inside that glowed purple before cracking ajar. Lily didn’t think she’d ever seen that many Galleons all stacked in neat little rows as far as her eyes could see. Clearly the vault had been cast with the same magic spell as her tote bag and could hold infinite objects. Oh how Lily wished her bag was filled with this much gold.
“Uhh…” James struggled, again not being able to look directly at her, but now for a completely different reason. “Um,” he let out a weird chuckle, “what do you normally get… uh—”
It was hard not to take pity on him. Why was money such a touchy subject? Well, you really hate the rich so… clearly the whole money thing affects you too. Lily pushed the bout of self reflection aside.“How much do I normally get tipped for parties that I cook for?”
James slid his glasses up his nose where they’d started to slip. “Yes.” He seemed so grateful she’d found the words for him.
Lily crossed her arms, figuring toying with him might be fun. “Depends. I guess you need to determine how satisfied you were with my work.” James’ eyes sliced to hers before he blinked profusely, and so fucking cutely. Fuck, she had never found him cute before. Truth be told, she didn’t think popular jock James Potter could be cute back in the day. “I’m kidding,” she whispered, leaning into him before his internalized panic combusted him. “You were just making it really weird. But yeah, normally just a few Galleons for a party this big—”
“Here,” he cut her off, grabbing two heaping handfuls of gold and shoving them into her hands.
Lily’s brows shot up her forehead as she tried to balance all the coins. “Yeah, that’s too much—”
“Hogwash.”
“No really, I think you just gave me like, twenty times my biggest tip ever—”
“Great! Consider it backpay for all the times I bothered you in school. Can this conversation be over now?”
Lily looked at him skeptically before tittering, somehow finagling her bag open a smidge so she could throw the money inside. The coins clattered for a good thirty seconds, raining down on all the various coolers and tools she’d brought, before she could talk again. “Well. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Ever.” James smiled. “Please.”
She bit her lip again, but this time, she was fully aware of it. “Okay.”
James ruffled his hair before pointing the way out of the small room. “It was actually good to see you again, Evans.”
Oh crap. Was it silly of Lily to feel slightly cheated? Like, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever been more pitifully worked up in her life, and he was going to send her home? She sighed. She supposed this was her karma for rejecting him all those years ago. Although, she stood by that choice. (She did!) The James walking beside her now was leagues beyond that bloke she’d avoided like the plague back in 5th year.
They got to the grand foyer of his house. “Yeah.” She grinned. “Surprisingly good.”
“Surprisingly?” he repeated teasingly. “Evans, you wound me.”
He was flirting. Was it bad that some of that hope for a possible hookup came rushing back to her? “Let’s just say you weren’t the worst company tonight.”
Clearly her face was doing something, because his expression suddenly seemed to morph to match it. Was he getting it? Was he understanding that bedding her tonight was a done deal? She’d heard that some ridiculously high percentage of all communication was nonverbal, and in this moment, she believed it. A look flitted across his face, but was gone an instant later. “Do you…” His eyes strayed from hers, watching the way Lily licked her lips utterly enraptured before snapping back. “Do you wanna…?”
Lily nodded at him encouragingly. “Stay?”
James blinked rapidly, as if physically removing the confusion from his eyes. “Um, yeah?”
She shoots, she scores! Lily cheered to herself, so glad this whole night wouldn’t be a complete bust. It really was so hard to go out and mingle with people her own age when her work hours were literally everyone else’s party time. “Awesome.” She gave him a charming smile, figuring they were both finally on the same page. “Do you mind if I use your shower first? Sorry, I smell like food.”
James shook his head, still seeming to have a hard time processing the entire chain of events. He was probably used to having to work harder for it, but at this point, Lily was so ready to get off and was past the point of caring what any rich douche thought of her. “Oh, yeah. Of course. You can use mine.”
Lily followed him up the grand staircase, making small talk and glancing at the various childhood photographs of him that lined the wall. As far as she was concerned, they were far more interesting to look at than the stupid fruits on display downstairs.
“And this is my room,” James announced rather unnecessarily. Even if he hadn’t been there to proclaim it, Lily was sure she could have found his space by the loud pop of Gryffindor red on the walls or the various Quidditch posters plastered everywhere.
“Wow James,” she teased, closing his door behind her and walking around, taking it all in. “This feels very…”
“I know,” James admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “I haven’t really changed anything since school, but honestly I keep telling myself I’m about to move out so it doesn’t matter, but then…”
“You don’t,” Lily finished for him. Normally, she’d feel pissed, thinking about how he was blessed with the advantage of free room and board only to be considering giving it up… but then she realized that if he wasn’t planning on living by himself soon, she would judge him for his inability to grow up.
It was rather silly how you could always find flaws in the people that you were already determined to hate anyway.
How was James Potter making her think of him — and people like him — like a person? It was pretty uncomfortable. She rather enjoyed thinking of all the privileged assholes of the world as one entity. One conglomeration of misery that met every Tuesday to discuss how they could ruin the lives of everyone else. Of poor people.
All that being said, this was hardly the bachelor pad she’d been envisioning for him. It was damn near impossible to picture him bringing that many girls back here.
“Yeah,” James sighed. He pointed to the door in the back corner of the room. “That’s my bathroom. You can shower and there are fresh towels in the closet.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I can go back while you—”
“No, that’s okay,” Lily responded quickly. She wasn’t going to take that long. Why would he leave? That sort of defeated the whole purpose of tonight. “Stay. I’ll be right out.”
“Okay,” James agreed, stuffing his hands in his pockets as she disappeared into his bathroom. It was clean as hell, but she supposed that was to be expected when he had house-elves; she wouldn’t be giving him any unearned credit for tidiness that wasn’t even his own.
The first thing she did was stare at herself in the mirror. Sure, so it wasn’t her best look, but it wasn’t her worst either. And clearly, the man wasn’t complaining. She turned on the water while stripping out of her gross work clothes before stepping in and melting under the divine water pressure of James’ shower head. She could really get used to this. (It might just be the best perk of being rich she’d discovered so far, you know, besides all the other obvious ones.) She scrubbed and shaved herself quickly (thank you wand) before toweling off and rummaging through her bag for her emergency eyeliner. If she was going to shag this guy, she might as well feel her best while doing so.
Satisfied that she was presentable, Lily performed a quick hair drying spell, clutched the towel around her chest, and walked back into James’ room, finding him sitting at his desk, bouncing his knee. He popped up to his feet as soon as he saw her re-enter, his eyes wildly scanning down her towel-clad body. “Hi.”
He was still fully dressed. Lily had no idea why, but she’d have bet money that he would be lounging across his bed in his boxers by the time she got out. Maybe with one leg propped up and open while he leaned on his palm. “Hi,” she responded with a curious grin. Did she, Lily Evans, actually make him nervous? Like, not scared-for-his-bollocks nervous but… this kind of nervous?
“Good shower?” he asked, his eyes seemingly unable to keep from dipping to her towel periodically as she walked up to him. She had to imagine it was a thrill just knowing how close she was to being totally bare for him — because no one looked that good in a fluffy red towel. If she’d have seen his awestruck expression in a vacuum, she would have assumed he was watching the most beautiful woman on the planet approach him in the sexiest lingerie known to womankind. Not because of this.
She was ready, he was ready, so why should they keep playing games? “Excellent shower,” she whispered as she dropped the towel, standing before him naked.
There was a three second beat.
“Holy shit.”
Lily laughed, appreciating that he was at least trying (and succeeding) to make her feel special. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down for a kiss. He took a second to reanimate, a nice further touch on his part, but then Lily felt his fingers as they clutched her waist, pinching her in as he pulled her closer, flush against his body, before responding to her lips’ fervor. Fuck, the man knew how to snog. Lily rarely found anything as disappointing in life as having a crush whose kissing style vastly differed from her own, but all it took was two seconds to realize this would not be the case with James. When their mouths danced and her instincts took over, she knew that she could switch her mind off and just let her body feed off of his. She didn’t have to overthink, she didn’t have to analyze, she could just feel her yearning and have it be answered by his, because his body was picking up what she was putting down and meeting her there. He groaned into her mouth and her hips stuttered, somehow already so fucking primed for him to take her.
“Fuck Lily,” James breathed between kisses, reaching down for her bum and picking her up, encouraging her legs to wrap around him so he could spin them the other way and deposit her onto his desk. “Where did—?”
But Lily didn’t want to entertain his questions; she wanted to get him naked. “You’re still awfully dressed, Potter.” She kissed and nipped down his neck, squeezing her calves so that his tented trousers grazed her cunt, hopefully reminding him that she was exposed for him already, so let’s get a move on. Her fingers got to work plucking open his buttons, pulling back slightly so she could see his chest as she pushed his fancy shirt over his broad shoulders. Fuck! Yeah, not attending his games had definitely been a smart act of self-preservation on her part. The man looked like a friggin’ model straight out of her dreams.
“I’m living out my fantasy,” James panted, finally helping her out and shrugging off his shirt, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor in a heap. He seemed to really love the attention she was giving his neck. It only encouraged her to graze her teeth a little bit rougher, loving how she could directly feel the effect it had on his breathing. “Give me a moment.”
Ugh, there was the cocky arsehole she remembered. The line was just so corny. “You’ve always wanted to fuck your chef?” she sassed back. He could try to win her over with witty rehearsed one-liners, but she sure as shit didn’t have to fall for them. As far as she was concerned, she was hooking up with him in spite of who he was, and definitely not because of it.
James laughed but didn’t respond, instead opting to lean forward into her and claim her mouth once more as he dragged her closer to the edge of the desk, his hand on the small of her back just like she’d liked so much in the kitchen. He didn’t seem to be able to help himself from rocking her against him, making them both moan in unison. This whole situation just seemed like a drawn-out tease, and Lily was ready to get to the real action.
Truthfully, he was far too good at kissing, his tongue wickedly playing with hers, and if Lily wasn’t careful, she might just let him do this all night. She had to remain focused. She couldn’t get distracted… no matter how much it seemed like James was cheekily, rakishly trying to. She pushed his body back slightly by his warm, far too chiseled chest so that she had room to finagle with his belt, biting and tugging on his lower lip as she pulled the leather end free. “I need you to fuck me, Potter,” she commanded before pulling the belt all the way out and pushing down his trousers.
James’ jaw clenched as he stepped out of his pants and took both of her hands in his own in order to pull her from the desk, leading her towards his bed. “What do you want?” he asked gruffly when she stood beside the mattress. He hurriedly pushed his trunks down so that he was just as naked as she was.
Fuck yes. She had no idea why — again, probably for survival purposes — but through the years she had convinced herself that he had to have the world’s tiniest pecker.
Turned out he didn’t. Not even close.
“Eyes are up here, Evans,” he taunted, and Lily was almost mad that she’d given him the opportunity for such an easy line.
“From behind,” she said, already knowing the pure havoc those simple words would wreak on the poor boy. The same basic, primal instinct that she knew she was tapping into to get the best reaction out of him as possible was the same reason she wanted the position in the first place. She didn’t want his fake romance or any platitudes that he’d forget spewing as soon as he came — she wanted to get fucked. Raw and hard and deep. Right fucking now. If she was nothing but a servant to people like him, he could just as easily be nothing but an easy shag for someone like her.
She crawled onto the mattress on her hands and knees, looking back over her shoulder at him, making sure to give her hair a good flip. He looked like he’d just died. She was right: he was easy. “Chop chop.”
He shook his head, trying to get at least some blood back into his brain. “Chef humor.” It didn’t come out as a burn or any sort of comeback, but more like the words of a man who was trying to prove to himself that he had some semblance, any clue really, of what was going on around him.
Lily chuckled. She had to at least give him brownie points for putting those two things together in his addled, fully erect state. She knew men weren’t always at their brightest when their cocks were so painfully hard.
But then, James seemed to want to regain some iota of his dignity back. Standing behind her, he gently skimmed his fingers from her tailbone, over her arse, all the way through her pussy lips while his free hand tugged absentmindedly on his cock. The sight stole the breath straight out of Lily’s lungs. It was dumb, because he was about to be inside of her, but she wanted to be the one with his cock in her hands. She wanted to feel him as he thickened, ride him as he throbbed, and taste him right before he wilted. She wanted him all, all to herself.
“Are you ready?” His voice was a timber so low, so sexy, she thought she might have gotten even wetter — a feat that she wasn’t aware was even possible.
“Touch me and find out.” She bit her lower lip, not sure anymore if she was still seducing him, or just in desperate need to bite something, anything, if she couldn’t bite him. He was currently this perfect combination of flustered and eager and it was completely driving her up a wall.
He followed her heed and slipped one finger into her, whimpering almost as loudly as she did when he felt her body clutch around him greedily. “Fuck, Lily, you’re so fucking wet right now,” he breathed as he slowly began to massage his finger in and out of her.
Lily arched her spine, flexing into the welcome feeling of him discovering her. “I’ve been this wet for you all night. So kind of you to notice.” Her fingers scrunched into his sheets, clearly some expensive, high thread count shit, as she lowered her chest to the mattress, displaying herself all the more blatantly for him. Had James been a viable dating prospect for her, she probably wouldn’t have been so shameless. If James Potter was someone whom she could actually date in the real world, she might be playing it coy, or give a single flying scruple about how he could interpret her visible keenness for him to plow her senseless as a negative. Because, who knows why, but actively wanting to get fucked is still seen as a negative for girls. But alas, the James Potters of the world never ended up with the Lily Evanses, so… she could be as real, and as lustfully turned on for him as she positively was… and show it.
“Fuck,” he repeated, actually sounding tortured as he added a second finger inside of her.
The naughty stretch was everything Lily had been missing these past few months. She rocked forward as she muffled her cries into his mattress, letting her bottom lip drag across the satin sheet as she slowly tilted her head up before looking back at him. “Yeah, just like that, Potter.” She hadn’t expected him to be quite this talented of a lover, but she supposed she shouldn’t be that surprised. He did have a reputation after all. And it’s not like he was ever an academic idiot. She figured he’d always learned things quickly enough. And boy am I benefitting from it now…
He’d gotten on his knees behind her at some point, face eye level with all the action. His stare kept oscillating between his fingers, watching them disappear into her over and over again, and her face, as though sinking up all the events in his head as one, continuous reality that he now had the absolute privilege of living. “May I?”
May I what? “Yes.” Lily decided whatever he was asking didn’t matter. In that moment, she’d let him do anything.
A second later he leaned in and his face disappeared from view as he replaced his fingers with his tongue and moved his thumb’s attention to her clit. Lily yelped in pleasure, the unexpected switch nearly driving her to the edge already. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever had a man eat her out without her prompting him to (quite insistently… for months) and the shock alone was thrilling. It was so dumb, but as James licked her again and again and, so beautifully, rubbed her nub in tight, satisfying circles, she couldn’t help but feel like an idiot. In what world was Potter the one giving her head? In what world was he the guy who was going to make her come with his mouth when the so-called saviors of her world had laid on their backs and expected her to service them as a reward for all the ‘hard work’ they did on the daily of treating her as an equal?
Sure, James had been an ass, but had he ever treated her as an inferior? Had he ever made her feel worthless? Or had he just been a standard, teenage idiot?
Had Lily really been missing out? Had she really shot herself in the foot purely out of spite by misjudging him? Was she insane for altering her whole life view around the act of cunnilingus?
Fuck. She was thinking again.
His tongue made a broad, firm lick against her clit before flicking her back and forth and Lily wanted to scream, settling for balling his sheets in her fists instead. “James…” she sighed with a suppressed moan, eyes screwed tightly shut. He was far too good at this too.
He lapped at her more incessantly and Lily couldn’t believe she could feel that his lips had formed a smile. “You like that?” he teased.
Yes. No need to be so smug about it.
Lily reached behind her and pulled on James’ wrist, tugging him up so that he was forced to return to his feet. The way he wiped his moist lips on the back of his hand, reminding her of her own arousal for him, was lethal. “Yes?” he asked, chest heaving in and out exaggeratedly as he stared into her very soul. She had to look so pathetic, face smushed into the mattress, cheeks flushed whilst on the verge of breaking for him, but you wouldn’t be able to tell from how he was looking at her.
“Fuck me. Now. Please.”
“Roger that.”
She could only watch the first few seconds after he lined himself up behind her, because as soon as he started pushing in, his cock feeling so fucking good and so right inside of her, she had to turn back into the sheets, muffling her whimpered whine as she hit her left fist into the mattress beside her face. It wasn’t fair. Someone so hot shouldn’t have a cock so perfect. James Potter should not have the perfect face, and the perfect body, and then also the perfect boyfriend dick that was exactly large enough to fill her up so generously and make her feel every damn inch of him as he thrust himself into her from behind — making her so unfairly aware of just how deep her body could stretch when she was hot and bothered for him — but not too large that she felt like crying at the thought of taking him like this forever. She wanted to get fucked like this forever. She wanted to have his cock in her cunt, in her mouth, wherever else he wanted to shove it, in perpetuity.
“Does that feel good?” he gasped behind her, his right hand migrating from her hip up her body until it found her chest, his grip possessively digging into her breast. How were they fucking already but he hadn’t even properly worshiped her tits yet? How was it that a few hours ago she was celebrating the innocent placement of his hand upon her back, and now she was pondering just why he hadn’t yet mapped out every centimeter of her body with his tongue?
“Yes,” she bit out. “Harder.”
James groaned as he obeyed her command, his hips snapping back and forth at a brutal pace. His free hand applied light pressure against her lower spine so that her body stayed in place, just where he wanted it. The move kept her from jostling too much up and down the bed, allowing her cunt to fill to the hilt with him with every punishing thrust. “Like this?”
“Harder.” She wanted him to hit her so deeply that it finally shattered her.
For some reason, the muffled curses he breathed into her shoulder as he bent completely over her, doing everything within his power to grant her request — his hips never stopping even though it seemed as though his brain was frying — was the thing that was curling her toes and making her eyes start to roll up. His balls were hitting against her clit, and Lily had never wished more vehemently that she could see the action herself.
“Fuck, Lily, fuck—“ he got out in choppy bursts before his teeth finally sunk into her skin. It turned out she wasn’t alone in her need to bite the shit out of anything she wanted to either fuck or squeeze to death. His right hand left her tit and instead migrated to the mattress so he could interlock fingers with her, pushing her palm down.
“Just like that… just like that,” she babbled incoherently, feeling herself so fucking close to the edge that she could taste it. Which is why she fully screamed when he pulled out of her and rolled her over onto her back. “Potter, what the fuck—!”
“Your turn,” he said simply as he collapsed onto the mattress next to her and pulled her on top of him. In any other context, she would hate just how much he was throwing her body around like he owned it. In this particular instance, she wished he’d never stop. “I wanna see your face when you come.”
“Fuck you,” she grumbled as she swung her leg over him, realizing that if she wanted something done right, she really would have to do it herself. She was ready to ride one out on him, hot and heavy and fast, but just as she sunk down on his cock, James sat up, his hands clutching onto the back of her shoulders. She felt oddly cocooned in this embrace, safe and warm and… held? What the fuck is he doing? It was impossible not to watch his face in this position, impossible not to see every emotion that played out in his eyes as he looked lovingly from her lips to her lashes before he tangled a hand in her hair and kissed her, deeply.
Lily gasped and pulled back when the intensity of their snog became too much, squeezing her eyes shut as she felt her cunt flutter around him. He’s been edging you so hard, she told herself. She told herself. She told herself.
He lazily rocked her on his lap, giving Lily far less friction than she needed as he tucked some loose hair behind her ear. “I bet you regret not giving me a chance in school now, huh?” he whispered arrogantly.
Excuse me? First of all, fuck you. But Lily realized she didn’t need a second of all, because she simply just could. With more than a bit of anger, she ignored his words and instead pushed James’ torso down onto the mattress, hard, so that she could shag him with renewed vigor, ridding his stupid face from her sight in the hopes of coming with impunity. She ignored his knowing chuckles even as she appreciated the way his fingers came between them to rub her clit for her.
She imagined him in the kitchen telling her to put him to use. She pictured him on his knees behind her willing to do whatever it took to please her. And yeah, fine, she envisioned the look on his face when he had realized back in school that she was not someone he could mess with — and then she came harder than she’d ever come in her life, her head thrown back and her nails digging deeply into his pecs.
She didn’t realize tears had welled in her eyes from the pleasure until James had flipped them back around and she could feel them trailing down her cheeks.
“Do you mind if I come?” His hips were moving agonizingly slow, as though he was hedging his bets until he got a proper answer out of her.
“What?” Lily asked, not really understanding what was going on anymore.
“Can I come, please?” James repeated, the pleading tone of his voice knocking some sense into her. They were forehead to forehead, and Lily felt like he’d just shagged her so well that she needed to be that close to his desperation for it to actually register.
“Sure,” Lily allowed, bonelessly melding into the mattress as James fucked her with everything he had, his thrusts solid and rough as he sought his own end. The bed groaned as he pounded away into her, her thighs widening to accommodate his brutal onslaught while her hands finally sunk into his hair.
He moaned, either from the way her cunt was squeezing him or from the way her nails scratched his scalp. “Lily…” His voice was pure even as his body destroyed her.
“Fuck, James,” Lily whimpered. “Come. Come for me, please.” She wanted to watch him. She wanted to see him come undone.
“Thank you,” he breathed, his hand traveling up to clutch at her chin and hold her in place so he could kiss her as he spilled himself into her. His lips glided over hers, demanding yet soft, sweet yet sinful, and Lily felt powerless to their pull.
She fought to breathe when he finally let go, somehow overwhelmed and simultaneously left wanting as she realized their session had come to its inevitable conclusion. “You’re welcome,” she tried saying with a laugh. She wasn’t sure if it worked, but she knew her attempt at least helped to quell the weird butterflies he’d coaxed from her belly. His face was still hovering right above hers, so how the hell was she supposed to feel? She knew it was human nature to bond after sex. She also knew that it was in her best interest to deny this instinct. “You’re awfully polite when you shag.”
He chuckled as he began trailing kisses down her face, past her chin, and over her clavicle, and Lily secretly rejoiced that she hadn’t ruined the moment. She would love to experience the feel of having her tit being sucked on by his expert lips, and he was getting so awfully close, but perhaps she was being greedy. She had, after all, just come from a one night stand — and magnificently at that. She’d practically already hit the jackpot.
“Is that a bad thing?” he murmured, his lips lingering just beneath her collarbone, and Lily felt a horrid tug a little lower under her left breast.
“No,” she admitted, far more openly than she was used to as she forced a swallow. “It’s just not what I expected.”
He grinned, and the tug disappeared only to be replaced with a new one. A stronger one. ”You had expectations?” His body was crushing hers, and yet she couldn’t find it within herself to shove him off.
“Well yeah. Sure. It’s hard not to think about when a boy invites me to his room.”
“Oh.” Was she imagining things, or did she just watch his whole body deflate in real time? Why was Lily suddenly struck by the strange notion that they were having two completely different conversations?
Her awkward shifting prompted him to pull himself back and out of her. “Lemme get you a tissue.” James reached for his nightstand, grabbing one and turning back to her like he had every intention of cleaning her up himself.
What the fuck? “I got it, thanks,” she cut him off, snatching the tissue and wiping away the trail of him she could feel leaking out of her. Sure, there was probably no sexy way to clean up post-coitus, but there was definitely a way where she could at least hold on to the last dredges of her propriety.
She’d choose that way. Every single time.
“I’m just gonna go to the bathroom real quick,” she announced, hopping to her feet and making a dash for the door. At this point, she wasn’t even sure if she was acting strangely or if he was. She was pretty sure it was the latter. Well, it was him first, and then she was simply reacting accordingly.
Lily sighed. Whatever it was, it truly didn’t matter, because they’d both gotten what they’d come for, hallelujah, and now Lily could be on her merry way and James could catch the very tail end of his best friend’s celebration of love without feeling like a single loser. Lily peed, put on her old clothes, splashed some water on her face, and was ready to go.
“Thank you for a lovely time, Potter,” she said cordially as she exited the bathroom, ready to pick up her bag and bounce.
“Oh… You’re leaving?”
Lily felt her neck physically crick as she looked up to find him sitting on the edge of his bed in his trunks, his elbows resting on his knees. Why was everything he was doing tonight surprising her? Why? She’d half expected him to already be gone. Leaving would have been a foolproof way to avoid any further awkwardness. What the fuck was off with her? She usually trusted her intuition so much. She was used to being right. “Yeah…” she began. “I have a shift in the morning. Turns out people like to schedule all their parties on the weekends.”
“Course.”
She hated the sudden tension in the room. But worse? She hated how hurt he looked. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times before he finally asked, “Can I owl you?”
Lily tucked a lock of her wild sex hair behind her ear, doing everything in her power to not remember all the ways he’d just disheveled it. Was this not a one-time thing? A ‘Hey, I had a crush on you in school but we were both idiots back then so it was nice to finally see what it could have been like?’ or a ‘I was really frustrated with my life, and you sort of represent everything bad in it (sorry about that), so this was a great way to work some of that tension out of my system’? Lily paused. She supposed it sounded a bit messed up when she phrased it to herself like that.
“You don’t have to,” she eventually answered, wanting to let him know he really didn’t have to do the whole fake-chivalry act for her. She guessed it was sort of like what he’d said downstairs in the kitchen when she’d given him her customer service spiel: this was her. They knew each other. So why pretend like this night hadn’t been exactly what it was? She was fine knowing they’d merely shared a night of passion or whatever, and they could just leave it at that. He didn’t have to owl her the next day to absolve her conscience or anything.
James stood up, looking her dead in the eye. A pulse of longing shot down Lily’s core like a lightning bolt. It was the first time all night he’d looked even partially ticked off. “I want to.”
Lily felt oddly nervous. She’d just fucked this man. He’d just come inside of her and she’d needed to clean the mess they’d made together from off of her thighs, so why was this the behavior that her body was deeming to be ‘too much’? She wanted to ask, ‘What do you want from me?’ but the declaration seemed far too melodramatic to utter out loud. At the same time… it was all she could think of. What was he doing? He’d gotten what he wanted… didn’t he know playtime was now over?
“Sure.” She swallowed thickly. “You can do whatever you like.”
He didn’t stop approaching her until he was standing directly in front of her, forcing her to look up at him. “Good. I will.”
She felt more exposed now than when her actual arse had been in his face. She could barely breathe as her eyes tracked the slight upturn of his lips as they slanted into a grin before getting lost in the golden specks of his irises. Why did it suddenly look like he’d won something? And why did it feel like what he’d won was a prize they both secretly wanted?
What had she done?
“Okay.”
His smirk turned lethal. “See you, Evans.”
Lily backed away slowly, not knowing whether it was better to keep an eye on him, or to turn her back as quickly as possible to break whatever unnatural hold he had on her psyche. All she knew was that a few seconds later she had her spine pressed against the outside of his door and was wondering what the hell had just happened.
Fuck.
#my fics#Jily smut#fuck the rich#xavier serrano#jily oneshot#james potter smut#lily evans smut#kinktober#Jily kinktober
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friendzone - chapter 1
The one where director!reader is forced to work alongside her new work crush and the idiot who broke her heart
For general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.
“C’mon, just give me a chance…” I was not having a good day, to say the least. Oh, no, not at all. Not a good year, perhaps - let’s go there, yes, why not? I deserved it, after all. This was all my own doing, and I never allowed myself a single second to forget it.
“Not gonna happen, Evans.” I might have closed the door a little harder than necessary if all of the gazes that fell on me upon entering the set were any indication. “I’m sorry, I know, I just- Where’s my coffee?”
I usually wasn’t this bitchy, but having to work with your ex-boyfriend - your cheating, lying ex-boyfriend - usually had this effect on a person, I imagined. Sending a grateful smile to the PA who had the guts to approach with a steaming cup of joe, I set out to put as much distance as possible between me and the man who was still following my every step.
Why did I ever think a slammed door would stop his pursuit, I would never know. Five months, hundreds of ignored calls and texts, and the guy didn’t quit it. Hell, he even managed to force his way into my dream project, just to force me to talk to him.
I was determined not to give up. He couldn’t be rewarded - not for what he did, not for what he was doing to me right now - but his ego stopped him from even seeing the error of his ways.
He just kept pushing, and as the director of the movie he was starring in, I couldn’t completely ignore him. As much as I wanted to.
“Is everything okay?” My body immediately relaxed at the sound of the (now) familiar English accent. “What’s going on?” It was clear that Henry wanted to outwardly ask me if Chris was bothering me, but he refrained from doing so. Like the gentleman he was - or, at the very least, someone able to think about the consequences of his actions before doing something he’d come to regret - he didn’t want to put me in a weird position, or even potentially complicate his work relationship with his co-star when he truly didn’t understand what was going on.
It’s not that I didn’t want to tell him. I did. But we’d only known each other for four weeks - the time since pre-production started, plus the week since we started filming. It didn’t matter how much we’d clicked in that time, he was still a relative stranger to me.
Even if I were to trust him… why would he even care about my past with another man? We weren’t yet friends, and nothing romantic was going on, despite all of the dirty dreams I’d been having since our eyes connected for the first time.
I knew I wasn’t the only one who suffered from his superpower. All of the people attracted to males - even some who swore they weren’t - had the same lustful haze in their eyes after spending seconds in his presence…
… and I’d been there before. The woman standing on the sidelines while their lover enraptured the world. Never again, I’d sworn. Never again, I still reminded myself under my breath every time Chris popped into my brain, life or heart. and yet, there I was: five whole minutes into staring into clear blue eyes and no words left to say like I’d unlearned the entire English alphabet simply because Henry Cavill decided to rest his gaze upon me.
Men really did make women go dumb sometimes.
“Nothing that involves you,” Chris spoke from behind me, two hands coming up to seize my waist and pull me against his chest. “You don’t have any reason to be concerned, I can assure you.”
… or insane.
“Get your hands off of me.” I don’t think I’d ever used this tone on Chris before, so his instinctive reaction to let his hands drop to the side of his body could probably be explained by that. But the truth? I didn’t even know I was able to make such a guttural voice until his actions led me to see the world in shades of red, in a way much similar to the one I used to stare at while we were in love, and yet so drastically different it confused and terrified me.
“Do you even have a scene to film today, Chris?” I asked, deciding to completely ignore Henry while I still had to deal with the manchild that was my ex-boyfriend. It took him a while to answer, but after some hesitation, he nodded.
“Yeah, it’s the-”
“No, you don’t.” I knew I was being silly, but fuck. This was my movie set, and he couldn’t just keep doing this - interrupting my work schedule, my dream job because of a romantic past he screwed up.
“Go back to the hotel. I’ll film Henry's solo scenes today.” His nostrils flared, his temper once again getting the best of him, but when he opened his mouth to argue… “Go.”
I was tired of letting him take the reins of my life.
#friendzone#henry cavill angst#chris evans angst#henry cavill#chris evans#angst#henry cavill rpf#rpf#chris evans rpf#henry cavill fic#chris evans fic#henry cavill x reader#chris evans x reader#henry cavill reader#chris evans reader
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Being Best Friends with Robin and Going from Enemies to Lovers with Steve HCs
When Robin first tries to convince you she's actually friends with Steve Harrington, you don't believe her.
Acquaintances? Sure. They work together and they seem to get along well enough. You've watched them banter plenty of times when you come to visit Robin at work.
But something changes.
You're not sure what happened exactly, but sometime after the disaster at the Star Court Mall, Robin and Steve become inseparable.
Robin's happiness has always come first for you. She's your best friend, practically a sister at this point, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't insanely suspicious at this new development
Maybe it was jealousy talking, but you didn't trust that someone like "King Steve" turned his life around over night. What if this was all a prank? What if he was going to humiliate Robin and really hurt her?
"I know he's a dingus. But he's good, I swear. Just give him a chance." Weeks of Robin's pleading pout and puppy dog eyes sold you.
"Fine. I'm going to be a bitch the entire god damn time." Robin grins. "You won't regret it I swear."
The first time you all hang out it is so unbelievably awkward, Robin spends forty five minutes rambling non-stop without a single breath. It's impressive.
At some points she does have to pee though so she leaves. It's just you and Steve.
The silence is fucking deafening.
Finally you speak. You are trying not to be petty, you swear, but you can't help but be protective of your favorite person.
"Listen, Harrington. I know you and Robin are besties now, or whatever. But if you hurt her, I swear to god I will bury your ass so far into the woods no one will ever find your body."
Steve just stares at you, mouth hanging open, eyes blown wide. It would be hilarious if you weren't dead serious.
"Whoa, what the hell?" You are surprised to see that Steve looks genuinely hurt. A feeling of guilt bubbles up in your gut seeing the wounded look on his face. It's almost as if you've slapped him. "Why would I ever hurt Robin?"
You blink at him, stunned. This is not the direction you saw things going. The person sitting before you is not the swim captain, basketball star, with his signature smirk and arrogant attitude. You swallow around the lump in your throat suddenly embarrassed.
"I don't know. You wouldn't have given either of us the time of day in high school, and now I'm just supposed to believe you're not the same kid who watched Carol and Tommy spray paint my fucking car two years ago?"
You can't look him in the eye so you start picking at your nails. "Look, I can take that shit. I've got a thick skin. But Robin's not as tough as she seems. She's got this sensitive side that people don't really think about. And I'm not going to let her get hurt."
When you finally look up, you watch as ten different emotions seem to be competing with one another inside of Steve. Honestly it makes your stomach drop. Maybe Robin isn't the only one with a secret sensitive side. You try to hold on to your self righteous anger, ready to fight with Steve, when you hear him release a sigh.
"I'm really sorry."
What the fuck.
"I'm sorry that Carol and Tommy fucked with you. And I'm sorry I didn't do anything to stop it. They're dickheads, and I should have stopped hanging out with them a lot sooner. " He runs his fingers through his hair and looks like he's genuinely embarrassed. You're convinced you've entered some alternate dimension.
In your experience people only apologize when they want something or if they've been cornered, but Steve seems so unbelievably genuine-- you don't question it for a second.
"Uh... Well.. the past is the past, Harrington. Don't worry about it. I just want Robin to be happy is all."
Steve looks at you and you can't remember the last time you saw eyes that earnest. "Robin has done way more for me than you know. I would never hurt her."
After that, you and Steve begin a tentative acquaintanceship.
You never spend a lot of time alone together, but you do come into the Family Video every single day after school to bother him and Robin.
It isn't long before the three of you start having move nights together, often featuring Steve and Robin's squadron of adopted young nerdlings.
All of them seem to accept that you are now one of their surrogate parents almost instantly. It's actually unnerving how quickly you're just absorbed into the routine of things.
And at some point you realize your mutual protectiveness of Robin is just one of many things that you and Steve have in common.
Steve is genuinely interesting. He's got pretty descent taste in music and movies. And more importantly, he's more open minded than you imagined.
You often run up behind him and plop the headphones of your Walkman on his head, misshaping his perfect hair. "Listen to this."
He'll grumble, pulling at his hair but keeping the headphones in place. He sits through entire songs, even if you can tell he hates them. He'll begrudgingly endure it all just so he can give you an accurate analysis at the end.
Then there comes a day when you walk into Family Video and see him behind the counter, shelving videos, knowing he will be on his own. "Robin isn't here."
"I know. She stayed home sick. I've got her homework." You wave a binder in front of him. "I just..." you feel embarrassed as you try to explain yourself. "It felt weird not to come in. Even if she isn't here, you know? It's like... annoying you is a tradition or something."
Steve studies you for a long time. "Damn. Between you and Henderson there's never any peace." His brown eyes are mesmerizing as always, especially when you can see the humor and joy shine through them. "I'll give you a ride to her place after my shift. Just give me 20 minutes."
And that's how you and Steve start spending more and more time alone.
It isn't really intentional at first. Just whenever Robin isn't around.
But Robin suddenly starts to have lots of other things to do, so your one on one time with Steve becomes much more frequent.
You start to become a little suspicious when Robin tells you she has to go get her haircut twice in the same week, but you're also not mad about being alone with Steve so you decide to let it slide.
(Robin really is the wing-woman of the century though and will be demanding acknowledgement at some point.)
It feels silly, in retrospect, but you didn't even realize you had a crush until it all hit you like a baseball bat to the head.
You were just cruising around in Steve's car, listening to a mix tape he'd made in companionable silence, when one of your favorite songs came on.
"Holy shit! I thought you said you hated this song." You lean over to turn up "Crush On You" by The Jets. You'd listened to this single so many times the record had broken.
You roll down the window of Steve's car and singing along "How did you know? Cuz I never told. But you found out, I've got a crush on you~"
Your eyes meet as you turn to elbow him, trying to get him to sing along.
Any desire to tease him dies on your tongue.
Those big brown eyes are making you feel something you've never felt before. Your entire body is on fire. It's hard to swallow around the lump in your throat, but nobody has ever wanted you as clearly as Steve does right now.
"You have to look at the road or we're going to die" you finally say, your voice struggling around your own want.
Steve pulls the car over on the side of the road so fast in nearly gives you whiplash. Thankfully the forest road is basically empty besides the two of you and a bunch of squirrels
"Jesus Christ, Harrington. You should have your license revoked."
But he's already unbuckling his seat belt and reaching over to grab your face. You let him, struggling to undo your own.
Kissing Steve is unlike anything else you've ever experienced. He's so goofy 99% of the time, but right now he's pouring his heart and soul into the moment. It makes your insides flip and your breath catch in your throat.
It turns out making out is another hobby you both share in common.
Robin spends the first few weeks of you two dating strutting around with the smuggest fucking look you've ever seen. "I told you he's not so bad, didn't I?"
#This is so long#I'm so sorry I just have so many thoughts#Maybe I will make this into a fic some day when I have the patience lol#steve harrington#stranger things#steve harrington x reader#robin buckley#steve harrington x you#I wanted to make this so much longer but the tumblr character limit wouldn't let me lol#steve stranger things
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Based on this. I know I'm supposed to be working on my WIP but this just wouldn't leave me alone.
They met in Heaven. Steve was barely even old enough to be there, wide-eyed and in awe, like every baby gay that walked into the most prominent gay bar in England.
Eddie remembered the feeling well, it had only been a few years since he'd stood there for the first time himself but from his spot on the dance floor he could see the vultures circling. And just like looking like a tourist in the middle of Trafalgar Square, it's easy to end up in a bad situation if you're on your own and don't have a good poker face.
Eddie’s first time he'd been with Chrissy, his childhood best friend and given his mum insisted she move in with them after her dad had gone berserk when he'd caught her snogging Jessie, he supposed that also made her his sister. That's just how she was, his mum, just so full of love and kindness and generosity and for someone who'd been through all she had, it always amazed Eddie. His dad was AWOL, never even spoke to Uncle Wayne, they suspected he was in prison given the amount of time he'd been gone. Not that Eddie cared, his mum was his hero, hardworking, endlessly compassionate, staunch and all in all just out-of-this-world.
And between his mum and Wayne and Scott, Eddie and Chrissy had all the parents they were ever going to need. His uncles only lived two doors down, so the five of them ate dinner together most days, they were an amazing support for all of them, had been throughout Eddie's life. He knew how incredibly lucky he was to have them, hell he knew just how blessed he was just to have a family that accepted him. But the three of them loved so unconditionally, they made amazing role models, not just to him and Chrissy but to Scott's students too, the couple just wanted kids to grow up in a different world to the one they grew up in.
So Eddie couldn't in all good conscious just stand there and let this little baby bird get swallowed up. He didn't even wait for the song to end, completely forgetting his dance partner Jack or James or whatever, he just dashed over all overly friendly, "Hey! Where've you been? We thought you weren't coming!" He was shouting absurdly loud but it did the trick, prying eyes slinking back into the shadows.
Steve was initially confused but Eddie used the excuse of a friendly hug to tell him he was attracting all the wrong kinds of attention. In fact, Eddie's pretty sure he told him he was "far too pretty to stand in the middle of a gay bar gawping like a newbie" but it didn't matter, Steve had just been grateful to be rescued.
He'd only just arrived in London, he didn't even know anyone in the city but he just couldn't sleep until he'd at least tried being in the club, Eddie didn't need to be a mind reader to see Steve had found whatever he was looking for.
Eddie knew how important it was to have a community, especially for someone new to not only the city but to themselves (he'd always had Chrissy, she'd been by his side through all of it, just as he'd done for her, he wouldn't be him without her) so he'd taken Steve to meet Chrissy and Gareth and Jeff.
They'd all hit it off immediately, Steve was a sweet little angel with a razorsharp tongue, what wasn't to like! The five of them were fast friends who spent every spare minute hanging out together, quickly becoming a group of six when Steve rescued Robin after she'd walked into Heaven doing the very same thing Steve had. And those two were insane, it was like they'd been separated at birth, Eddie was surprised to find out they didn't share actual brain cells.
And god they were all just so close! They barely left each other's sight those first few years, they got jobs together, flats together, had dinner parties and sleepovers, went for coffee and on shopping sprees, Steve and Chrissy even went jogging together in the park when they weren’t too hungover from a night on the lash, they were settled in their domestic little London life. Looking back, the years spent in their tiny shitty flat was when Eddie was happiest, just the six of them, skint and hungover but full of life and completely content.
The girls were the first to fall in love, Eddie was unsurprised, he knew full well it'd been love at first sight for Chrissy, and from Steve's drunken ramblings (which was the only time he'd spill Robin's secrets) Eddie was pretty sure the same could be said for Robin. Jeff and Gare had been fuckbuddies for years but they finally got together after Jeff's particularly nasty breakup with Danny. Jesus H Christ! Gare had hated him! Basically from the moment he'd met the guy, it was speculation amongst the others as to whether it was a problem with Dan or a problem with someone else shagging Jeff. Things came to an explosive end when Dan cheated on Jeff, in the club bathroom of all places! Gare was about ready to take Dan outside, probably would've if Steve hadn't got involved until Jeff calmed him down enough to convince Gare to take him home instead.
Eddie had fallen so gradually for Steve he hadn't really even noticed it was happening until they were in Heaven one night and the light caught Steve just at the right angle as he was dancing and the realisation just plonked itself down in Eddie's head and heart, like oh! Oh fuck, I'm in love with him. Not that Eddie ever told him that, of course, Steve had come back to Eddie sweaty and panting and Eddie for the first time in his life, he'd been completely speechless. Then Steve had kissed him playfully on the cheek as an excuse to steal his wallet and all Eddie could do was laugh as he disappeared into the crowd to buy another round.
And it was all going amazing until, just as Eddie was bucking up the courage to tell Steve that he was kinda sorta maybe in love with him, everyone's career started to take off.
A random audition landed Steve a place in a boyband, where godforbid anyone is openly queer, the girls started a tour, and a summer anthem flung him, Jeff and Gare into the stratosphere overnight. And it was fine, love confessions could wait, they had time, Steve's contract was only for two years and who knew how long their popularity would last, they could be a one-hit wonder for all he knew. So those first few years, the six of them just focused on the music and making sure not to party too hard. They all really thought they’d done it, they’d made it big and they were happy, but it didn't take long for the cracks to start showing and then quick as a flash everything started to crumble.
Both he and Steve ended up solo acts, the boyband eventually running out of steam and his band ending when Jeff and Gareth imploded somewhere over the North Atlantic.
Not that it took long until they were back to being the best of mates though, with that much history you either part ways for life or you wiggle through the awkward stage and be the best friends you've always been. That's how Jeff described it anyway and given they both eventually met other people, and Gare's godfather to Jeff's little one (who's two going on eighty, Robin keeps calling them an old soul, he's never quite sure whether she means it literally or figuratively) Eddie's inclined to believe him.
Chrissy and Robin were the only two who actually managed to stay together, both musically and romantically; they're set to get married soon, he's happy for them, he is! And he's excited to walk Chris down the aisle, doesn't mean he also can't be a little jealous.
Because he and Steve, they're still acting like teenagers! Sneaking around, texting constantly, seeing each other whenever they can get five minutes on the same continent, and as much as Eddie still feels blissed out from their whole week together on an equatorial island in the middle of nowhere, being a teenager is only fun for so long.
Musically, it's going great! It is! He's producing bigger and better than ever, which'll happen when you're completely free of creative restrictions, and it's great, but sometimes there's such a thing as too much freedom and no-one's there to rein him in or talk some sense into him when he needs it.
Steve's also enjoying his solo career, he's bigger than ever, freer, his fans adore him, the general populous prefer his music now it's just him and none of them are surprised by how huge he's become, it's rare that someone so beautiful is also an absolute fucking gem as well as a creative genius.
So it's all going great! And Eddie looks forward to every second he gets to spend in Steve's arms, whether it's hours or days hauled up in a hotel room together (or on the luckier times, at home together). Because honestly there's no place he's happier than with his Sweetheart but he knows they can't have anything more, they can only ever have hidden moments and undeclared feelings, and it's kinda starting to feel like it's killing him because every time either of them leave, Eddie's leaving a little bit more of his heart with Steve.
And he isn't sure there's much left to give.
But the group are all still best mates, so he can't talk to any of them about it, can't talk to his manager because she's practically married to the guy who just also happens to be Steve's manager, can't talk to his therapist because they just come out with dumb comments like "why don't you just tell him how you feel?", can't even call home about it because they just want him to get down on one knee and propose and he can't tell anyone outside his immediate circle about how he's feeling because what if it gets out?
So he just does what he always has, he channels all these feelings into a cover of a song he hasn't been able to stop listening to since he first heard it because it's speaking to him and this is the only way to make it stop.
And when he steps off stage after its debut and he's met with nothing but a whole twenty-four hours of radio silence, it starts to make him nervous, then it makes him jittery and then it just makes him sad.
So he's alone in his hotel room, like he often is these days. The only thing he had planned for the evening was waiting for the videos to start pouring in from Steve's concert because his fans are wild in the very best way. And he can't blame them; he often feels the same way when he sees Steve perform and something about seeing the videos settles something in his feral goblin brain.
He's just laying in bed, channel flipping, eating Doritos and generally feeling sorry for himself when Nancy (his manager) calls, tells him to get dressed now! Chrissy has tickets for a thing, which should've been a massive tip off because one, why wouldn't Chris just call herself? And two, why is Nancy, Queen of planning every last detail down to the milliseconds, being so damn vague? But the silence has him all off kilter so he just does as he's told on autopilot.
He's dressed and in a limo and outside the stadium Steve has sold out before he even has time to register what's happening. And the whole group are there and they all have VIP tickets and yet they've barely said two words to him.
Eddie wants to ask what the fuck is going on but he daren't, he's a strong believer in not asking questions you don't want the answers to and he feels like he really won't want the answer whether it's a good or bad one so he just follows quietly while they chat about the terrible two's and trying to deal with stroppy wedding planners.
Eventually, they get situated and then the concert starts and for the first few minutes, Eddie stays shell-shocked in his seat but Steve's voice wraps around him like silk, like it always does, and before he knows it they're all on their feet, dancing and singing along, having a whale of a time, it almost feels like everything's back to normal but then there's a costume change.
Steve comes out in his full Danny Zuko outfit that he'd worn that very first Halloween all those years ago, and of course he still looks as good now as he had then. Dare Eddie say he might even look a little better now that he's grown into all of his features, now he's a little more muscular and he's got the swagger of a man comfortable with himself and the way he looks.
Everyone's going mental, his fans, the group, Jeff recognises the outfit first and starts ragging on Eddie, with full mimicry and big eyes "but Jeff didn't you see him, he's just so sexy!" making Eddie sound like the chick from Aqua. They'd all been hammered that night, Eddie's surprised he even remembers, can't deny it though, Steve had looked sexy, still does. Eddie'd take Steve over John Travolta any day of the week, but honestly he's kinda glad for the teasing, that's just Jeff's way of showing love and a bit of normality feels nice.
Especially because as he watches Steve strutting around the stage, chatting with fans and waiting for the screaming to die down, Eddie finds he's actually trembling. Then Steve speaks, settling thousands of people by just putting the microphone against his lips, like he's got them all under a spell and god it's so alluring Eddie's starting to feel a little hot under the collar.
And then his words float across the stadium, "A special song, for the very special someone in my life. There seems to have been some miscommunication between us, so I'm hoping this'll make things clearer," he tells the crowd, turning his attention to the VIP seating, searching for him until their eyes meet, smiling the smile Steve only ever seems to have for him and Eddie just melts.
He recognises the song immediately, of course he does, he knows it inside and out, knows it in his very bones because they've watched this movie together a thousand times, in a thousand cities, howling along or turning the characters into muppets or impersonating other celebrities because what if so and so had played…? because when they're together they can just be themselves, they can laugh and be silly like they used to when they were younger but to Eddie it never matters how he's singing, Steve always sounds beautiful even when he's purposefully trying to sound terrible.
But right now he's just Steve singing a song to Eddie, for Eddie, completely from the heart, in front of thousands of people, in front of the whole world and Eddie can't breathe.
Because how stupid could he be? How could he have got it so wrong? His Steve, his beloved Stevie, his Sweetheart. The years they've spent together! And yeah, in the beginning, they'd both been with other people, but it never lasted because really for both of them, it's only ever been the other one, probably from that very first moment, so eventually they just stopped trying, stopped involving other people and were just them whenever they could find the time to be together.
And yeah they never actually discussed being together and that clearly wasn't the smartest thing to do because that seems to be what's tripped them up because in private they're a couple in every way that matters. He's Steve's, it's just a fact of life. He thought Steve knew that!
Their family know that! They don't even have separate families, for god's sake, they might all have different surnames but whoever calls it's always "And how's Steve?" or "How's our boy?" like he's an extension of Eddie, like they're EddieandSteve. Even some of their fans have cottoned on, creating their own little subgroup, with cutesy names and "evidence" of the length and depth of their relationship.
It's only by the grace of god and Nancy and Jon's (Steve's manager) careful planning and scheming that means they've made it this long without the press finding out, he and Steve rolling around in bed laughing, the night after they've walked down a red carpet together, even having the audacity to hold hands sometimes and just howling at how clueless the tabloids are, because they've only ever been seen as bachelors, bros supporting one another and as Robin has pointed out on many occasion, it's ridiculous that so few people have spotted the ridiculously besotted, gooey eyes Eddie always has for Steve.
So they know they're not single but somehow they've both got their wires crossed because he somehow thought he was someone to keep Steve's bed warm and Steve has given him his heart and assumes Eddie doesn't want him! And how after all this time have they managed to get it so wrong?
The song ends and Eddie just flops into his seat and sits in wonderment, not really hearing and only seeing the tunnel vision of Steve doing his thing, just trying desperately to understand how he missed the signs that Steve loves him and how the hell he's going to untangle the mess he's made.
But before he knows it the concert ends and he's no closer to an answer and he's so far up in his head Eddie doesn't remember much else, just flashes of moments. Chris' encouraging smile, Robin's curled lip, Gare's arm around him, being backstage, his phone vibrating in his pocket, knocking on the dressing room door.
Then it's all Steve, his tentative smile, the shine in his eyes, his hair still wet from the shower dripping onto his t-shirt making glistening trails down his neck. His damp collar, his arms around Eddie, the sandalwood of his products, peppermint toothpaste and that underlying something that's just Steve.
Quiet, hesitant greetings in the silence, Eddie just opening his mouth and letting it all out, everything he's been holding in for so long, apologies and admissions and declarations, finally ready for the chips to just fall where they may, and he knows he's rambling, can tell by the endeared look on Steve's face, by the way he runs his thumb over Eddie's bottom lip knowing full well it'll stop his blathering in its tracks.
Using the opportunity to lean in, bumping their noses together, knowing Eddie will close the gap, will chase his lips with his own, will be thoroughly distracted from his thoughts as his whole world becomes Steve, Steve, Steve.
Eventually they come up for air, Eddie sitting in Steve's lap, content to rest their foreheads together, just feeling each other close and breathing the same air. Eddie, unable to stop playing with the still damp hair at the nape of Steve's neck, can't quite manage to wipe the stupid, lovesick grin off his face.
It takes a moment to register what he's doing as Steve wiggles Eddie's continuously vibrating phone out of his pocket, it had been ringing for so long Eddie hadn't even really noticed it but no doubt it's driving Steve crazy. Steve hates phones, he makes them all put them in a bowl when they hang out together, only Jon is allowed anything to hide behind but that's because he and his DSLR are inseparable.
It's his mum calling, Steve answers and she actually squeals! She loves Steve so much, she has from the moment they met, she treats him like he's her son and honestly if he didn't know that that's just the way she was he'd probably be a bit jealous, especially when he's only ever home for such short periods of time and her and Wayne sit around the breakfast table gushing over Steve's latest whatever, it drives him a little crazy.
Steve had barely been gone an hour the first time Eddie took him home for the weekend before they both started practically begging Eddie to marry him, they've only become more insistant since Chris and Robin's announcement, luckily Uncle Scott always has his back, rescues him from their tinkering with a "leave the boy alone, he'll ask him when he's ready" which is only somewhat helpful.
"So it's true?" she wants to know, Steve kisses Eddie's cheek, hums an affirmative and she screams so much Steve drops the phone onto the couch with a laugh, it goes on and on, like she's won the bloody lottery, the noise coming through the phone only interrupted by Charlie barking, confirming Eddie's suspicion that she's at Wayne and Scott's. Because he loves his family but they're abysmal when it comes to technology and thank god for Uncle Scott because he's the only one who can handle anything more complex than a TV remote.
And it hits him like a freight train because that means this whole thing was planned, and of course it was, he doesn't know why he's only just realising that, but it means that Steve heard him, that he saw and he heard and that this was his response.
It explains why Robin was so pissed, explains why no-one had anything to say because the whole group probably wanted to bang their heads together because what the fuck after all this time, how were they still not understanding each other?
And Eddie can't quite believe his luck, because they've had this massive communication hiccup but Steve just declared his devotion to him anyway, not only in front of his thousands of screaming, adoring fans but in front of the people who matter the most, because yeah the public finding out had been a sticking point once upon a time but none of that had ever really mattered.
Steve declaring his love to him in front of their loved ones though, even after Eddie's massive fuck up, even after he managed to get so stuck in his own head, even after he let that song corrupt what he knew in his heart, he just couldn't quite believe it. Steve's just…
Jesus H Christ!
He's everything!
"Marry me," Eddie blurts and Steve looks surprised for all of two seconds before he's nodding a watery kiss against Eddie's lips.
His mum starts screaming again, "He said yes, right? Eds! Eddie! Answer me!" Then there's the sound of the phone being handed to someone else, it's Wayne, "Eddie! Boy, answer your mother before she deafens us all!"
Eddie breaks away from Steve just enough to grumble "He said yes!" into the phone before turning the damn thing off. They’ve had enough distractions, enough time apart. For now, he just wants five minutes with his fiancé in his arms, before she calls Chrissy and the maniacs come piling in.
#this just wouldn't let me go#these boys#i adore them so much#their communication skills suck so hard#steddie musician au#steddie modern au#steddie british au#steddie au#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#platonic stobin#platonic eddissy#background buckingham#background clarkson#background jancy#aj writes
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lace & silk
a/n: this is a beyond random post for me here at sunsetsixx hq but as a journalism major & previous owner of a multifandom writing blog i guess i was bound to return to my roots at some point ! this isnt me becoming a writing blog, instead just a one-off fic of an idea thats been floating around in my brain for the last 2 weeks that came to fruition in a google doc at 2am. i dont know if theres even an audience for this besides me & maybe like 3 other people in my notifs so enjoy if you wanna & pls dont judge my out of practice writing too much <3
pairing: current!vince neil x fem!reader
word count: 2315
warnings: smutty dialogue, light (?) smut, mentions of tommy & brittany getting it on lmfao, a highly unrealistic take on the behind the scenes of the stadium tour that was necessary for the plot
“Can you fuckin’ believe we’re already halfway through this tour?” Brittany asked, shaking her head as the two of us walked back to where the buses were parked. “I swear to God we just hopped on that plane to Atlanta like yesterday.”
“Seriously.” I nodded in agreement. “Time has flown.”
“It’s been a crazy ride. Like so fun.”
“If I’m being honest though, it’s really not as chaotic as I thought it would be.”
“Really? What do you mean?” She asked.
“I don’t know…I guess it’s just different actually living the modern day reality. We’ve heard and read all these insane stories of them in the 80s but obviously life just isn’t like that anymore.” I let out a short laugh. “No real backstage shenanigans…it’s funny to see how much they’ve mellowed out over the years.”
“Girl you’re lucky you don’t have to deal with shenanigans. My husband thinks it’s funny to light shit on fire with hairspray every five seconds. There’s literally never a dull moment in that dressing room.”
“I don’t know if I’m jealous or not.” I said laughing. “We keep it pretty chill in ours. Mainly just me helping with his outfit and hair. Lots of Fiji water and listening to Sammy Hagar’s solo stuff as ‘pump up’ music.” I explained as Brittany laughed this time.
By this point in the conversation, we had made it to tonight’s stadium’s back parking lot where our temporary homes were located. All of the buses were set up in a line with the lights on, as if ready to drive off at any minute. But from the looks of Brittany’s face, and the absence of our men, we weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.
“Hold up.” She said, a look of disbelief gracing her features.
“What?” I asked, laughing in confusion.
“You’re telling me that you and Vince Neil haven’t fucked in your dressing room this entire time?”
My mind began to rewind as many shows back as it could remember, but nothing of the sort stood out. I shook my head at her. “No. Just in the hotels and a couple times on the bus…” I trailed off as my gaze wandered over to the vehicle in question, all kinds of memories from the first week flooding back when Vince so romantically suggested “breaking in the new place” with multiple rounds on multiple surfaces.
“(y/n)! What are you even doing? You’re a tour wife man, you gotta act like it!” She joked, lightly hitting my arm with her bag.
“I don’t know! I guess it just always gets too busy back there, especially with all the meet and greets and photoshoots and filming…I never wanted to tire him out before the show or whatever. I haven’t even thought about it too much.”
“The rushing around is what makes it so good though. Tommy & I were like rabbits back in St. Louis. I don’t know what was in that water but shit got crazy.”
I nodded, thinking about everything my best friend was saying. “You might be right, Britt. Truly what am I doing if not the lead singer in the sleaziest band to walk this earth backstage? It’s a disgrace to their reputation, honestly.” I said, shaking my head.
“There you go!” She laughed. “Just because they’re getting older doesn’t mean we are too. We gotta keep them on their toes babe.”
“You always do make a good point Ms. Furlan-Lee.” I replied, and the two of us broke out into laughter. We stood outside scrolling through our phones and judging each other’s Instagram feeds for a few more minutes before we were finally joined by the men of the hour.
“Goodnight guys! See you on the next!” Nikki’s slightly raspy post-show voice called out. He was walking up with Courtney and a sleeping Ruby in tow on the way to their bus as well.
“See you dude!” An unmistakable voice yelled back, followed by the appearance of the lankiest guy of the bunch, still somehow with a single drumstick in hand.
Finally I caught a glimpse of my specific man of the hour, who had traded in the bright red glitter and leathers of his stage costume for a pair of camo shorts and a black tank top. His signature chain hung around his neck and for some reason he was also still adorning sunglasses at 1:30 in the morning.
“There you are.” I said smiling as he walked up.
“Hey lovey.” He said, wrapping me in a hug and pressing a short kiss to the top of my head.
“You tired?” I asked, still in his arms.
“Yeah I could sleep. Fuckin’ awesome show though. I still can’t believe how many people are actually showing up.”
I scoffed at his words. “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said. This is literally the tour of the century. People are gonna be showing up for you guys forever.”
He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Hopefully.”
He gave my back a quick rub before motioning for us to get on our bus so we could start off to the next city. As we got ready for bed, my conversation with Brittany played over and over in my head, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized she was right.
I just said it too– this is the tour of the fucking century. I need to start treating it like that for myself and my man. Tomorrow is a new day full of new experiences and new ideas and new desires. A million possible ways I could go about what I wanted to do swirled around in my brain, but as I settled under the covers of our shared bed in the back room, a lightbulb moment was had.
~
The next night began like every other after we arrived at the latest stadium and got everything settled. Crüe was closing the show tonight, which meant we all had more time to hang backstage. We were currently in an in-between period between Poison and Def Leppard, meaning there was about two hours until Crüe’s set. Vince was mostly ready to go, and was over in someone else’s room with the rest of the guys in the band hanging out and doing whatever other pre-show rituals they all partake in these days.
I was in his dressing room, putting last night’s ideas into action. I was nervous for a million different reasons; nervous he’d shun me off if there wasn’t enough time, nervous he’d think I was trying to act like some groupie on the Girls Girls Girls tour, nervous the idea my brain had conjured up was overstepping or I’d get in trouble with their stylist somehow. Lots of nerves. I just hoped Brittany’s advice was right to take for Vince and me.
After connecting my phone to the speaker and turning some music up decently loud, I began the action steps of my plan. I grabbed my tote bag and wandered into the bathroom. I took off the ripped blue jeans and tank top I had been sporting all day and opted for something more…(well technically, less) appropriate. I had dug out one of my red teddies from my luggage on the bus, a lacey number I knew was one of Vince’s favorites, and slipped it on in place of my clothes. I touched up my makeup that had begun to flake off over the course of the day, and ran a brush through my hair.
Once satisfied, I walked back out into the now much more noticeably cold air of the dressing room for the main operation.
There on a silver rack hung Vinnie’s most prized possession this tour– a floor length, silk piece of art hand painted with Japanese symbols in reds, golds, and royal blue covering the back. I ran my hands down the oversized sleeves as it hung there, looking like something that should’ve been in the MOMA rather than trekking around dingy baseball stadium hallways being diligently followed by a short woman with a portable steamer.
It had been almost a month of The Stadium Tour and I hadn’t dared to touch it, especially not after seeing how pissed off Vince got when someone (still a mystery who) stole his original show pants from backstage. Tonight was different though. I needed it to help me with the fantasy I had dreamed up after a middle-of-the-night conversation in a parking lot in Cleveland with my best friend.
I took a deep breath before carefully taking it off the hanger and placing it on me. My smaller frame was of course drowning in it, since the length and size was custom made for Vince. I tiptoed over to the full length mirror hanging on the wall, careful not to drag too much of it on the floor.
My eyes went wide as I took in the sight of myself. Bright red lace hugging my hips and chest perfectly, (the bodysuit had been a gift from Vince last Christmas, something that actually was custom made for my body’s measurements), with the iconic Wild Side performance look draped over my shoulders. I felt expensive– high class even, and now understood why Vince was always on such a high between the opening song and Shout at the Devil. This piece was enough to make anyone’s ego go through the roof.
I tied the kimono up in the front to conceal what lay underneath and took a deep breath before walking back over to sit on one of the couches. My back was facing the door, so the surprise wouldn’t be ruined when he came back in, which after seeing the clock turn to 6:39pm, realized should be almost any minute now.
I smoothed my hair over a few more times with my hand and picked at some stray nail polish that had chipped off onto my cuticles. My mind wandered to the endless amount of reactions he could have at the sight of me until they weren’t just fantasies anymore, but the real thing.
It took everything in me not to jump off the couch like some sort of rabid animal in anticipation when I heard the doorknob turn and the heavy door creak open.
“Hey baby, have you see my kim–”
The sentence died in his throat as I rose from the couch in the very article of clothing he was asking about not a second before. I smiled innocently up at him as his wide eyes looked me up and down.
I walked toward him, making a show of my bare legs peeking through the soft fabric with every stride forward. He bit his bottom lip when I placed my hands in his.
“This what you were looking for?” I offered, officially setting the backstage plan into motion.
“Oh yeah…” He trailed off, letting go of one of my hands so he could twirl me around. “Look at you baby doll.”
“I got you a present.” I said softly, after a moment. His eyebrows raised when I didn’t continue. Finally I walked backward a couple steps and held my arms out so the kimono’s tie was on display. “You have to unwrap it.”
He practically pounced on me the second the words exited my mouth. He pulled the silk fabric gently and the loose knot fell, allowing a glimpse of what was underneath to show through.
“You fuckin’ tease.” He said in a low voice, still smiling like a kid in a candy store. The plan was working.
His hand graced my shoulder as he pushed one arm of the robe off so it draped down my back. “You want something tonight, huh sugar?” He asked, pressing a short kiss to the underside of my jaw. My eyes fluttered closed at the touches, almost completely abandoning the act then and there. I did my best to stay strong.
“Don’t you have a show in an hour?” I teased, taking a small step back.
His face dropped. “Don’t you start. Those fuckers can wait.”
Before I knew it, I was being lifted up and carried towards the couch. He laid me down so my head was on the armrest as he hovered over me. I ran my hands up his tattooed arms as his lips pressed down onto mine.
He ran his hands over the red lace that clung to my skin and massaged my soft flesh underneath. The couch was beyond uncomfortable, but I found I didn’t care at all when Vince was touching me like this.
As we made out, his right hand snaked around my back to undo the thin fabric and pull it down my body. I started to slide the kimono off my shoulders to give him more access as well.
“No.” He said and put his hand on my arm. “Leave it on. My girl wants to play dirty tonight, right?”
I bit my lip and took a deep breath through my nose as I nodded in response.
“That’s what I thought. You want me to fuck you in this then wear it onstage in front of 40,000 people…is that it?” He whispered.
Any and all facade of confidence and calmness I previously had completely melted away at his words. Just the thought of him putting it back on later after these less than wholesome activities to go sing in front of a stadium full of unsuspecting fans had me shuddering in anticipation. He started kissing down my jaw and neck again until he reached my heaving chest.
“God I love these tits.” He spoke softly. “Especially when they’re filling out this outfit.” He trailed his hand over the kimono once again, down my curves until he reached the part of me dripping with need.
“You’re lucky I got an extra one of these baby…because you’re gonna be the fucking death of me.”
#vince neil#motley crue#mötley crüe#the dirt#vince neil x reader#vince neil imagine#vince neil fanfic#vince neil smut#vince neil fluff#vince neil the dirt#the dirt imagines#the dirt movie#the dirt cast#daniel webber#vince neil x you#motley crue imagine#motley crue smut#motley crue x reader#motley crue fanfic#sunsetsixx.gif
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𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓱 𝓹𝓮𝓸𝓹𝓵𝓮 & 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓪𝓼 𝓻𝓲𝓵𝓮𝔂,
greetings from wherever you are and whatever timezone you are in, and with any luck, in that nook you are tucked, it is still the best day of the year aka...Rile Pile's Birthday ( aka pastorcraigenjoyer on ao3 ), who some of you may call the style one-shot whump wizard now ft. lizard, but i am blessed to call, my lovely computer wife and life. <33
my angel, my darling, my dear, sweet girl: happy birthday, beloved.
( beneath the readmore is a birthday surprise. xx for my favorite redhead writer girl, but also for all of you. fair warning, you do have to read a lot to get there, but i promise that it will be worth the while. )
@actually-its-riley @1moreoffkeyanthem @marryme
i know that you do not like to make a big deal about your birthday, but unfortunately, i am a chaotic bisexual disaster, of whom pep!stan's insane stananigans and big sweeping gestures are #Based, so unfortunately, you have to endure my psychosis, RP.
which you often do, you wild and patient and wonderful thing you. <3 i sent you a DM on new years that was way better articulated than this, but when writing peppermint, i made a lot of friends who were readers and that was extremely gratifying, but i felt very isolated from the style writing community on ao3...until you came along. c':
i was also extremely anxious and over encumbered/ill-equipped to handle the stress that came along with the success of my fanfic, but your support throughout my writing journey made that load lighter.
it has been a joy and an honor being your friend and for once, being able to read rather than write -- all 70+ fanfics you have uploaded. which, given that i have written two unfinished ones, the fact that riley has written that many and finished them is astounding. :***
-- they are also brilliant, btw. we seriously don't deserve her. </3
but here's to trying!
and drying those tears for fears of dying, because when you write, you live forever, clever girl. but before i ramble on too long, my salt of the earth ( dissolved in oj ), here, dear, is my birthday gift to you. <3
so...listen. at first i was going to post a whumpshot for you but...the only person i ended up hurting was myself because i couldn't finish. granted, i never finish anything, as we know, but i had a backup plan.
which is this:
i am thankful for all the support i've gotten writing my fanfictions, but riley has been particularly supportive of me, both emotionally, and also regularly wrecks havoc on her poor followers by reblogging my insane niche au ask meme content onto her blog and likes all my stuff, no matter how weird or deranged it is.
i apologize because that's going to happen again, but this time it will hopefully be slightly more relevant because rp is fond of peppermint, and i am very fond of her so i decided...that for riley's birthday, i will be releasing everything i have in my drafts pertaining to…
pep 12. <3
whiiiiiiich is not much, please don't get your hopes up, but i think it is well deserved by you all and on what better occasion than today?
anyways, your cursed limited edition peppermint package includes:
-literally like the first five minutes of the chapter ( i'm not even joking that's how little i've written -- which is still too much -- and how slow )
-this weird thing that i posted on twitter once where stan is thinking about the friendship bracelets and being emo as fuck oh my god, i made a lot of weird metaphors...it's garbage, but...have at it.
-and finally, a very weird fucking flashback from hell that...is the main reason why my update got stalled because i couldn't figure out how to write it and when i started writing it, i got so comfortable in kyle's narration, i fucking *jersey vc* forgot it was stan season and started writing it in kyle's consciousness, then...tried to switch it back to stans...it's a mess. it's also not done like...at all, so you get a little bit of actual writing and actions and thoughts and a lot of...just dialogue. i wasn't sure about giving you guys the whole thing but i'm not sure if its gonna make it into pep, so i wanted to give you guys a chance to read it before i throw it into the fire where it belongs, smh...jail.
again, rp, i know today is a hard day, but i hope this makes it easier. thank you for being born, happy birthday...and i hope you heal, lovie.
but now...dear readers...without further ado, it is time,
to enjoy the very worst part...
...of the very best day. ;)
-uncle neen the queen with the scheme <3
p.s. the computer quality is ass, it looks better on the app, smh.
𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓿𝓮; 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷 𝓼𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷
a/n: EVERYONE SAY YOU'RE WELCOME UNCLE NINA FOR NOT KILLING STAN!!! HSDLKD STAN LIVES!!!! BARELY! SMH!!! i'm so sorry you waited so long for...sigh...that...anyways here's this too:
𝔀𝓮𝓲𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝔂 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓹 𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰
A/N: wow...so edgy, nina. i wrote that instead of sleeping one night and i did not take my mood stabilizer so that's why it sounds insane. okay, here is this last thing which is...actually so embarrassing, but i love you all and riley specifically, so merry riley's birthday everyone.
𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓾𝓷𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓲'𝓿𝓮 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓷
A/N: my kylepilequil!!!! HELLO!!!! HOPE YOU HEAL NATION!!! WHO IS UP BITCH!!!! that was choatic, i am not proud of a lot of that dialogue, particularly kyle being insane ( it was not gonna stay like that i promise...it was a road map...leading where? i have no clue ) but i hope that it thrilled you! please smile, pendejos lmaoooo, rip!
#ITS RILEYS BIRTHDAY#HIP HIP HORAY FOR GAY PPL#its a big day for annoying people aka riley fans aka me#i'm sorry this was insane queen u know how i am#i am physically incapable of not being dramatic as hell#BUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY HERES PEPPERMINT!!!! I LOVE U#IM SORRY THIS IS CRINGE BUT I HOPE U HEAL BABES#im physically cringing at how much i need to rhyme things#like ok go off riddler what the fuck#my hands are over my eyes ur welc or im sorry rp & everyone else#the spelling and wording of all of this is hell#but im too lazy to try and make it better#it is what it is…a draft and flaming hot garbage
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Crimeboys it is.
And would you know it, it be a fluffy Crimeboys prompt with an instinct driven Giant Wilbur and a human Gremlin Tommy.
The prompt starts with Wilbur not letting Tommy go as he woke up with instinct begging for him to take Tommy everywhere he goes.
Tommy tries to bite Wilbur's fingers so he can put him down but Wilbur ain't buggin anytime soon.
Anywhere Wilbur goes, Tommy is right there since Wilbur isn't letting him go.
Like you can have Wilbur be at work and he still brings Tommy with him as an example.
Just make it as fluffy as you can, you can add anything you want.
If you're up to make this prompt then pog, that is if you want to do it.
Also, if you wanna send me a random g/t prompt that u have, go for it.
Quack
This has been in my inbox since I joined Tumblr.
Orchid gorgeous!!!!!!!!! I've rewritten this twice!!!! It took me awhile as I got stuck at one point BUT! I had a new idea today so while its short, I'm very happy with it! I hope I did the prompt justice and you like it!!!
Mine to hold close
cw: mcyt g/t , soft, fluffy, tiny tiny death mention.
Words: 607
[One shot]
Disclaimer! This story is based on the characters of the Dream SMP and not the real life content creators. Anything that occurs in this story is purely fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you.
“Can you put me down you prick?! I’m not gonna freeze I swear!!!” Tommy said with huff as Wilbur scooped him up.
“After the last time it snowed? I don’t think so.” Wilbur responded as he tucked the little human close to his chest.
“But Wiiiiiiilllll!! I’m not even outside this time!” The giant always tended to get extra clingy around this time of year. His instincts in high gear and on Tommy the second he was awake, worried that Tommy wasn’t warm enough. Tommy didn’t blame him though. Not when he literally met Wilbur in the midst of a snow storm. He hadn’t meant to lose the trail and get stranded in Giant territory, but stuff like that always seemed to follow the Great Tommy Danger Kraken Innit! He’s just lucky that the giant had found him in the snow before he became a frozen popsicle. And even luckier that this Giant didn’t eat humans. So yes, Tommy understood that Wilbur was going to be a little extra cautious about him almost dying of Hypothermia again. But he didn’t have to be so damn cuddly and touchy all the f***** time!!
“Wilbur I’m fine! I’m not gonna get cold! The fires going and keeping everything nice and toasty warm, so stop being a d*** and put me down!!” Tommy said as he squirmed in Wilbur’s hold.
“Tommy. You are literally the most chaotic little gremlin I’ve ever seen. If I put you down, I guarantee you’ll be screaming for help in less than five minutes trying not to freeze your a** off!!” In retaliation, Tommy started biting and scratching at Wilbur’s hand. It didn’t hurt of course, but Wilbur found it cute watching the attempt at escape. He loved Tommy like a brother and ever since he found him had sworn to protect him no matter what, his instincts often being a little overbearing at keeping the chaotic child safe. And if that meant holding onto him for hours at a time, then he’d happily oblige. So what if he had to do his work with one less hand? He’d take holding Tommy any day. That and his instincts kept screaming at him to keep the human close.
After a few minutes Tommy eventually resigned himself to his fate and just chilled in Wilbur’s hand. Though he’d never admit it, he secretly loved it when Wilbur would hold him. He felt safe knowing nothing could hurt him when he was with the giant. He didn’t have to worry about anything and could just be content with his pseudo brother. Staying with the giant being the best decision of his life after their first initial meeting.
Tommy stayed in Wilbur’s hand all day. They chatted while Wilbur did his chores, Wilbur singing songs to Tommy, Tommy sharing wacky insane ideas with Wilbur, all the while the giant's instincts to keep the human close not faltering once. As day turned to dusk and dusk turned to night, Tommy eventually curled up in Wilbur’s hand. Snuggling in as he fell asleep, hugging one of Wil’s fingers close. Wilbur had to resist the urge to coo at the small sleeping human in his hand. Tommy was so small, so fragile but you’d never guess he had such a boisterous personality and was as lively as what he is. Slowly and carefully, Wilbur made his way to bed, getting in and tucking the human close to his heart. He sighed contently knowing nothing could hurt his brother, his instincts finally satisfied.
“Good night Tommy.” Wilbur whispered quietly as he drifted off to sleep. The brothers comfortable in each other’s warm embrace.\
WOOOOOOOOOOOOO I MADE ANOTHER FIC!!!!! THAT'S 2/3 POSTED!!!!!
I swear I'm still writing the other fic! I swear! I swear! I swear!!! It's gonna be worth the time its taking! PROMISE
#I PROMISE I'M STILL WORKING ON THE OTHER FIC!!!!!!!!! CURSE MY BRAIN FOR GETTING DISTRACTED!!!!!!!!!#mcyt g/t community#mcyt gt community#mcyt gt#mcyt g/t#giant!wilbur#human!tommy#tiny!tommy#tiny tommy#giant wilbur#g/t#gt#giant/tiny#giant tiny#gt writing#g/t writing#beckyu writes#beckyu but on ao3#my fic#one shot
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In honour of helmetless Din pics and the dream I had last night...
HC of Din and an SO taking care of him and Grogu? My dream last night was pretty much me running around fixing everyone's problems (because even in my dreams I can't escape being people's therapist 🙄) and Din trying to get me to calm down before I hurt myself 😅
mmm yes domestic din the loml
it's easy to go absolutely fucking insane on the razor crest
the ship itself is falling apart and din djarin's to do list of shit to fix is longer than the list of new parts he has to buy
then you consider the pilot himself: a man who regularly forgets to eat and runs on like two hours sleep and pure spite
then there's the kid. small, green, objectively cute, cries for hours if you don't give him attention and oh look!! there he goes again BREAKING THE FUCKING SHIP
so yeah. not the calmest place in the world.
and when you feel this innate need to look after din and the kid and try and keep the razor crest in working order, it's easy to lose yourself to it
but let it be said: din never let you into his life or his ship with the intention of you becoming the unofficial caretaker. you're smart and a bad-ass and not a house wife (husband/spouse, pick ur fighter) but goddamn hell it is in your nature to put everyone before yourself
din gets that. he really does. he's given up nights of sleeps and days of food for his son. he's thrown aside the very foundations of self care in pursuit of a bounty. our guy has exactly minus three legs to stand on when it comes to calling you out for not looking after yourself
the difference is that he loves you more than anything in the world and he is quite frankly fuming that you're running around like a headless chicken in pursuit of other people's happiness
din's first port of call is to get you to sit the bloody hell and have a cup of tea (because the mandalorian is a british caricature, apparently??)
he'll take his helmet off and move it aside and just hold yours hands
"why are you letting yourself go for me?"
and you can argue it's because you care about him and the kid but he won't let it be to the extent that it's to your own detriment
"relax for a while, cyar'ika. the ship won't fall apart if you sit down for five minutes."
you look after din. you look after the kid. but sometimes din has to look after you.
okay...he's always looking after you in his own way but every so often, he kinda saves you from yourself
he'll just sit there and hold u for a while. can't be running round like a crazy person if there's an even crazier one restraining you right??
#asks#din djarin x reader#din djarin imagines#din djarin imagine#din djarin reader insert#din djarin fluff#mandalorian x reader#mandalorian imagines#mandalorian reader insert#mandalorian fluff#star wars fluff#star wars reader insert#star wars imagines
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Why are you so quiet? Everyone has gone insane and making up new facts every five minutes, you're usually the first one to lose your patience and lay it down. You're obviously on Chris' side yet you're letting people talk shit about him. You need to say something!!
I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted. You talk as if I'm some matriarch of the fandom when in fact I'm just a mediocre fanfic writer who is exhausted with this whole debacle and it's barely been two weeks. Nobody listens to me!
Today I saw a magnificent example of both Chinese whispers and alternative facts in this fandom. The person who alleged that CE was at her work for medical imaging, who I suspect was also the author of the now-deleted Reddit post, only tweeted that she had found out he was at her work. I appreciate that many people deleted the screenshots of the tweet as it was a gross invasion of his privacy and a HIPAA violation that, if true, would have very serious consequences for both the tweeter and her employer, and that a lot of people didn't see it. But suddenly people were talking about an actual x-ray or MRI image that had been posted and deleted. There was never an image. That didn't stop a few people from saying they knew someone who had seen it, which adds credence to the rumour despite being a lie due to there never being an image.
A lie can run around the world before the truth has got its boots on - The Truth by Terry Pratchett
We are seeing this in action every single day since the People article. I've seen people make the most outlandish claims. Suddenly, everyone has a friend who knows his flight details or what he ate for dinner. It's utterly demented. It's beyond crazy.
Let's go through all of the utter horse shit I can recall from the past fortnight. Shall we have more bullet points?
It's all PR
They have a contract for two years (how could anyone possibly know this?)
Chris obviously cannot stand Alba anywhere near him
The girl in the park who was forced to delete her Twitter was in on it and planted there to record
Chris has been personally seeking out Tumblrinas to block on Twitter
Narrative PR wrote the deranged fan letters to make the fandom "look crazy" (lol) and garner sympathy for Chris
Literally anyone who sticks up for Chris or Alba is, in fact, Chris or Alba or their moms
Alba wore a halter to WDW to show off her tattoo and be recognised (Really? Who on earth is going to recognise her?)
She only flew into FL to record the video and then left immediately (y'all really don't like them spending time together, huh?)
They are reading every single post every single gossip blog writes and using the comments to make their fake PR relationship more convincing
There's more but this is so exhausting. If you take one thing from this post, let it be this. Take EVERYTHING with a pinch of salt, no matter who posts it and how sure they seem. Sometimes people are right and sometimes they are wrong. This fandom has a nasty habit of voicing their opinions as facts, then others take that and run with it, like today with the medical imaging business.
The fact is, nobody cares whether or not you believe it. But you are devoting hours of your life, every single day, dissecting everything and going around and around in circles and it is not healthy. It is not healthy at all. Take some time off or at least talk about something else.
Someone asked what I personally think is happening with Chris and Alba, so I'll leave you with my thoughts. It's serious. They are in love. I think they'll probably get married sooner rather than later. The laser focused comment was an FYI, telling the fandom that he's going to be taking his foot off the gas and concentrating on his private life for the foreseeable future. Take it with a pinch of salt. 🤷🏽♀️
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A Christmas Prince; The Royal Wedding
Chapter 1: Back to Alderly
Summary: It's been a year since Dawn helped Quincey keep his throne. Now the pair's wedding is fast approaching, but unrest is stirring both in Alderly and in the personal lives of our heroes...
A/N: The second installment in the movie trilogy makes even less sense plot-wise than the first but Annie and I wanted to try our hand in this anyway. I expect this one will be a little shorter than the first fic was, because I'm cutting the stupidest parts from the movie script entirely, lol.
Words: 3k
Characters:
Dawn and Evan Harvelle @potionboy3
Quincey, Olympia, and Isabella Alderly
Tess Brandon
Lainey Bell by @gcldensnitch
Beginning | Next Chapter
Want to read the first fic in the series, A Christmas Prince? Click here!
Chapter 1: Back to Alderly
Dawn’s Blog, December 15th
Post title: Big Event!
Dear all,
It's been three hundred forty-nine days, eleven hours, twenty-three minutes, and seven seconds since I said “yes” to the love of my life, Quentin Christian Alexander, King of Alderly. But who's counting? Other than me and millions of people around the world. Needless to say, it's been a whirlwind year. There's been a lot of back and forth between Bristol and Alderly.
The long-distance engagement hasn't always been easy, but it's always been interesting. Somehow through all this insanity, I'm still me. Even though I'm about to become royalty of a small country.
Thank you for all your love and support this past year. Sharing my writing with all of you means more than you'll ever know. I promise to keep you posted on all my adventures to come, especially our wedding on Christmas day in Alderly.
“What’s with the sunglasses?” asked Evan Harvelle when he, Dawn, and Dawn’s aunt Teresa exited the airport.
“We’re in disguise, dad,” Dawn explained.
“You’d think that they would send someone to escort the future prince consort,” Evan mused quietly. The airport was bustling, as usual. Alderly’s tourism had seen unprecedented growth since Dawn and Quincey’s engagement announcement. Of course, there were also those that firmly opposed the marriage, but Dawn felt like nothing could dampen his spirits.
“I think they did,” said Tess, pointing towards a line of cars heading towards them.
“Oh, they’ve sent the royal motorcade,” said Dawn, surprised.
“Did you think they were going to make you take a taxi?” joked Tess.
“I mean we took one to the airport back in England so...”
The motorcade naturally drew people’s attention, and it wasn’t long until someone shouted: “Look, it’s Dawn Harvelle!” Several faces turned to look at them and Dawn and his family surely would have been swarmed, had the royal chauffeurs not managed to get to them and escort them to the car. As Dawn was about to get in, a reporter approached him through the crowd.
“Mr. Harvelle, any comment on the King’s new initiative? Will it affect the wedding?” she asked, thrusting her recording device towards Dawn. He had been prepared for this.
“I’m very happy to be back in Alderly,” he said. “And excited for the wedding, and Christmas of course.”
The reported didn’t look pleased with Dawn’s reply but before she could ask anything more, Dawn was ushered into the car.
“That was intense,” said Tess. She was already sat in the limo looking a bit hackled. Tess was Dawn’s mother’s sister and only five years older than him. Dawn had asked her to join them, since the two were quite close, especially since the passing of his mum.
“Are you okay?” asked Evan.
“Yeah…”
“What was that initiative that reporter was talking about?” his dad continued.
“I…” Dawn paused. “Actually, I don't know the details. I’ve been so busy I’ve barely managed to catch up with Quincey in weeks.”
“I can’t believe you’re going to be living in here,” said Tess, peering out the window.
“That makes two of us,” said Dawn.
“Three,” corrected Evan. “When you shipped off all your stuff here, it was one thing, but now…”
He looked a bit stricken and Dawn had to admit that his own chest felt suddenly tighter, too.
“Dad, I’m going to come visit Bristol all the time,” said Dawn. “And you can come here anytime you want. Remember, they’re making you a count or something.”
Every time Dawn thought about his father as a count, he felt the urge to giggle. Evan Harvelle was the most normal man in the world. Not to mention it would be infinitely amusing to have both Count Evan and Count Evander.
~
The motorcade weaved its way through the city. There was snow everywhere, because of course there was, and when the palace first showed up behind the snow-covered treetops, Tess actually audibly gasped.
“Not bad, huh?” asked Dawn.
“You’re so posh now,” she teased.
They all filed out and headed inside. Dawn was expecting to see a certain face among the welcome committee, but Quincey was conspicuously absent. Instead, he was greeted by Queen Isabella and Olympia, the latter of whom immediately wrapped him into a big hug.
“Dawn!” she exclaimed. “I’m so happy to see you again!”
Dawn hugged her back. “Damn right,” he said. “I missed you.”
Olympia let go of him and smiled.
“This is my dad, Evan,” said Dawn.
“Your majesty, your highness,” said Evan, only a little clumsily.
“And this is Tess, my aunt.”
Tess echoes his dad’s formalities.
“It’s nice to meet you both,” said Olympia and Queen Isabella nodded. She didn’t seem openly hostile, but Dawn could tell she wasn’t happy about how everything had turned out.
“Mr. Harvelle, welcome back to Alderly,” said the queen. “And I’m most pleased to meet you both.”
“And you,” Tess said with a smile. Isabella regarded her for a moment. Tess was dressed in her usual manner in a flowy, colourful dress and knee-high boots. It was quite the contrast to Isabella’s prim and proper pantsuit and immaculate bun. If Tess noticed the queen rating her outfit quite low on the scale of 0 to 10, she gave no indication.
Behind the royal family members was Dawn’s old friend, Miss Pince.
“Pince!” he said when the introductions were out of the way. “How are you? Has it been awfully boring here without me?”
“It has been quiet, Mr. Harvelle,” Pince replied, and it was quite evident she had vastly preferred it. “And I have been promoted to the head of Palace Office of Press and Protocol.”
“Oh, sweet,” said Dawn. He wasn’t exactly sure sweet was the right word, though.
“Come on, I’ll show you to your rooms,” Olympia said cheerily.
“That is hardly appropriate,” said Pince.
“Oh, Irma please, let it go,” said Olympia and headed towards the stairs. Pince sighed. Dawn, Evan and Tess followed the princess.
“See you all at the reception,” the queen called after them.
~
Dawn almost choked of laughter when Olympia announced loudly that he was to have the bridal suite until the wedding. He then also understood why Olympia had wanted to take him personally. They’d left his dad and Tess to settle into their own rooms.
“Pince did this on purpose,” said Dawn, more amused than anything.
“Oh Dawnie, it’s tradition, it’s protocol,” Olympia laughed.
“It’s very… frilly,” he noted. “And pink.”
“Nothing wrong with a little pink,” said Olympia, a known appreciator of pink.
“I love pink,” said Dawn, who didn’t really have a strong opinion for or against.
“I had hoped I could simply share a room with my fiancé.”
“That’s entirely impossible, and worst of all, common.”
“Where is he, by the way?” Dawn asked.
“He’s been busy with all kinds of kingly duties,” Olympia explained. “I’ve barely seen him, and I live with him.”
Dawn couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy with this new information.
“But I’ll let you settle in now, you must be exhausted,” Olympia said. “We must catch up as soon as possible though, I have so much to tell you.”
“Of course, thank you O.”
~
Once left alone, Dawn looked around the room. It looked straight out of one of those early 2000s animated Barbie movies. On one of the nightstands Dawn noticed a note, written on familiar hand. He took the paper and read:
“To my love, with all my heart.
From this day forth,
we shall not be apart.
Poetry can be a challenging art.
If not yet mastered, here's a start.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at the corny little poem, when a voice from the door behind him said: “It’s a limerick. Of sorts,” said Quincey.
Bad limericks be damned, Dawn all but ran to hug him.
“Sorry I wasn’t there to greet you,” said Quincey, hugging him back. “I had to finish my poem.”
“Next time, maybe you could forgo poetry and come greet me instead?” Dawn suggested.
“Hey,” Quincey protested. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”
“Yes. It most definitely was.”
Quincey laughed and Dawn kissed his stupid face.
“I can’t believe this is finally happening,” Quincey said.
“You’re telling me,” Dawn laughed. “A year ago, I was working a shitty job in Bristol, worrying about writing an article about a ridiculous playboy prince.”
“Ridiculous, maybe,” Quincey mused. “Definitely not a playboy.”
“I guess that’s true–,”
Dawn’s sentence was cut short, when Quincey’s new equerry showed up at the door.
“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” she said.
“What is it, Lainey?” asked Quincey.
“An urgent call from the Minister for Economic Affairs and the Prime Minister,” the equerry said, eyeing the both of them. She seemed to be around the same age as Quincey, with her blonde hair up on a ponytail and a tablet in her hand.
Quincey sighed. “Can’t it wait?”
“I’m afraid they insist.”
Quincey turned back to Dawn. “I must take this. We'll have more time this evening at the reception.”
He kissed Dawn’s cheek quickly and followed Lainey out the door. Dawn sat on his bed and dug out his phone. He typed in a message to the group chat he had with his friends: just saw my husband-to-be for the first time in months for all of 5 minutes.
Not long after came a reply from Jimmy: abolish the monarchy.
~
Two hours later Dawn had unpacked his meager little bag (most of his other belongings had been handled earlier by palace employees) and gotten ready for the reception. It was to be a party of importance, with government officials and foreign ambassadors. The thought might have spooked Dawn once, but now he was slightly better prepared. He met up with Quincey before the double doors that lead to the banquet hall.
“Hi,” said Quincey in a low voice.
“Hi,” Dawn replied. Quincey offered his arm and Dawn took it.
“Ready for this?” asked Quincey.
“As I’ll ever be.”
The doors were opened, and the pair entered, with a herald calling out: “My lords, ladies, and gentlemen; King Quentin and the guest of honour; the future Prince Dawn!”
As they entered, at least fifty pairs of eyes turned to look, among them the prime minister but most of the faces completely unknown to Dawn. He hadn’t had any official duties as a royal spouse yet, as their circumstances were rather unusual, and Quincey’s advisors felt it was best to move slowly and respect traditions. Dawn didn’t want to cause any more trouble than he already had but he wasn’t sure how much tradition and protocol he was going to be able to handle without complaint.
“Oh wow, this is–,” he started but suddenly a man in an expensive looking suit and a serious look on his face appeared and whispered something to Quincey.
“Dawn, find Olympia, I’ll get away as soon as I can,” he said as the man whisked him away and Dawn was left standing alone in the middle of the room, feeling more awkward by the second. He was approached by several people with greetings and congratulations, he recognized the Minister of Internal Affairs, as well as Magister Malinda, but some he only pretended to recognize, as he had been advised to do.
“Mr. Harvelle, here,” said the queen’s voice to his left and Isabella introduced him to some more dignitaries, such as ambassadors from Penglia and a president of the Council of Women in Alderly.
“I should go save Quiney…” Dawn mused as he saw him still talking, or rather, arguing with the same man.
“Best, I think, to leave him to it,” said the queen.
“What’s going on?” asked Dawn.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Isabella simply said. “You should focus on the wedding. Most of it is well in hand but Quentin insisted we leave some breathing room for you, despite the short notice.”
And the Queen's objection, Dawn thought but only said: “Well, that’s nice."
He had pretty much resigned himself to having no say at all with the wedding.
“To that end, I have hired a wedding planner to help you.”
“What?”
“A wedding designer, Your Majesty, but yes,” a woman said, walking up to them.
Dawn recognized her. Rosa Yaxley, the girl who had been briefly engaged to Count Evander, Quincey’s throne-stealing cousin.
“You’re a wedding designer?” Dawn asked.
“Yes, and now I’m here to help,” she said, though Dawn couldn’t be sure if she was all too happy about this prospect. “I hope there’s no bad blood between us?”
Dawn looked from Rosa to the Queen and back again and then said with a note of humour in his voice: “Well, if her Majesty found it in her heart to forgive you, then I suppose so can I.”
Rosa smiled. “Glad to hear it Mr. Harvelle. We’ll get to work tomorrow.”
~
Dawn finally found Olympia, chatting with his dad of all people.
“Well Dawn and I call them meat jelly, they’re pretty gross,” Olympia was saying to Evan, who examined a suspicious looking block of meat that a passing waiter had offered to him.
“Don’t eat that, dad,” said Dawn.
“Thanks for the tip, kiddo,” Evan said and deposited the meat jelly on a nearby table.
“Oh, Dawn, I was just telling your father about how I’m part of organizing a charity event!”
“You are?”
“It’s a play,” Olympia continued. “The Tale of Princess Froon, an Alderlian folk tale. I was asked to play the titular role to draw in the high society crowd.”
“Oh my god,” said Dawn.
“Hey, it’s a beautiful tale,” said Olympia with a grin.
“Oh, I’m sure.”
“Anyway, all the proceeds will go to helping those affected by the current depression.”
Dawn had read the newspapers, of course, and knew of the rather terrible financial situation in Alderly. “That sounds pretty awesome,” he told Olympia.
“I’d sure like to see some Alderlian culture in play,” said Evan.
“You’re most heartily invited, Mr. Harvelle,” said Olympia.
“Isn’t this the one where Princess Froon gives Santa his magic powers?” asked Dawn. He remembered Quincey talking about it last year.
“Yes, just the one.”
“Oh, I can’t wait.”
A tap on his shoulder made Dawn turn around, ending up face to face with Miss Pince.
“In my new capacity as the head of Palace Office of Press and Protocol, I’d like to have a word with you.”
“Of course,” said Dawn. “See you later dad, Olympia.”
Olympia gave him a thumbs up, as Dawn followed Pince to a less crowded area.
~
Once they were safely out of earshot of any visiting dignitaries, Pince said: “It's clear that you've had a very laissez-faire attitude concerning your image over the past year; magazines, television, blogs…”
“Blogs, that's what I do for a living,” said Dawn. Ever since his successful article about Quincey, he had run a blog focused on his journey into learning all about Alderlian politics, customs, and of course, details about his own personal life all mixed into a neat little package. He was quite proud of it. “I’m a professional write–,”
Pince interrupted him: “But now that you're a part of the royal family, we must be careful of the image that you project. Consider me your protector.”
Dawn wasn’t a fan of where this conversation was headed. “Look, Miss Pince, I know that my life is about to change in a major way, but I’m not going to quit my job.”
“The goal is to see you and the crown in the best possible light.”
Dawn sighed, and said: “Well, nothing shines quite like the truth, right?”
“I'm glad we see eye-to-eye. Please wait here and I'll have the King and you pose for the photographs.”
~
After their photo-op, Quincey led Dawn out of one of the doors lining up the outer wall into a beautiful little courtyard.
“Irma didn’t give you too much trouble, did she?” he asked.
“Just wants me to delete my blog,” said Dawn.
“Yes, we’ve had words about that before,” Quincey said. “She’s just passionate about protecting the image of the royal family. She feels like it is needed now more than ever, when we’re already breaking about a dozen ancient customs just by being together.”
“I know,” said Dawn and took Quincey’s hands in his. “It’s important to project an image of continuity even through this massive change.”
“Yes.”
“Has it been difficult?” Dawn asked.
“Well, not everyone is as on board with a gay monarch as I had hoped but it was to be expected. I can’t change people’s decades held beliefs overnight, but I know I can make a change over time.”
“You’re doing a great job,” said Dawn.
Quincey smiled, but it was a tight smile. He was hiding something, but Dawn didn’t feel like pestering him about it tonight. He was exhausted too.
“You have a new equerry,” Dawn noted.
“Oh, yes, her name’s Lainey Bell,” Quincey replied. “We met in uni. She’s about the only thing keeping me afloat right now.”
Dawn gave him a look and Quincey laughed. “Aside from my everlasting love for you, of course.”
“We should get a Christmas tree up in here,” Dawn just said, observing the tree-less courtyard.
“Oh, a good idea!”
“We could go look for one tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow’s no good, I’m going to town to give a speech.”
“What kind of speech?” asked Dawn.
“Well, you know how I’ve been trying to implement the initiative to bring Alderly into the 21st century? Strengthening infrastructure, schools, tech…”
“It's smart.”
“That's what I thought but instead of strengthening the economy, the country is bleeding money,” Quincey explained. “And nobody can tell me why.”
Dawn frowned. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Do you know any genius economists?”
“I can’t say that I do.”
“I’m having a meeting on Friday, trying to figure this out. Something’s not right.”
“Can I come?”
“I would really appreciate it if you did.”
Dawn smiled and squeezed his hands. “We will figure this out.”
“I hope you’re right,” Quincey said. “But I also have a feeling like Irma and Miss Yaxley are going to keep you quite busy with the wedding preparations.”
“Oh, for cock’s sake…”
tag list: @lifeofkaze
(ask if you want to be included or removed)
#fic: the royal wedding#a christmas prince au#dawn harvelle#quincey alderly#dawncey#here we are girls and gays!!!#*my writing#yes dawn's blog is called 'dawn's blog'#*tess is FIVE years older than dawn NOT FOUR#i can't count
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Klaine bingo 2023:
Debut fic: Feel my heart's intention by kurtsascot
Page turner: Come Alive by delires
Need tissues: Tying you to me by hippohead
Unusual occupation: Hidden in the deep By heartsmadeofbooks
Your choice: I’d cry a river just for you by maanorchidee
Summer story: The Stuff of dreams by gleefulpoppet
Written for a challenge: Wasn't expecting you by darriness
Laugh out loud: Opened one minute ago by klaineanummel
Genre/trope wouldn't read: The hating game by orphan account
Thanks for your card - find them on A03 ~Jen
Debut fic: Feel my heart's intention by @kurtsascot
Blaine started to hate Kurt on his first day. And it was a shame, really, because they could have been cute together.
2. Page turner: Come Alive by delires
1960s NYC: Newly-wed junior advertising exec Blaine Anderson finds a missing piece to his puzzle in the back room of a Manhattan bar. Mad Men era AU.
3. Fic that you need tissues for: Tying you to me by @hippohead
It’s been five years since Blaine kissed him goodbye at the airport, and he hasn’t seen him since.
Somewhere within those five years, though, Blaine became an international pop star. Which is... not exactly ideal; not when you’re trying to neatly pack away your feelings and the fact that you’re still desperately in love with him, and his face is on every billboard in Times Square.
(in which there is an invisible string, tying Kurt to Blaine, and Blaine to Kurt, and isn't that just so pretty)
4. Fic where one of them has an unusual occupation: Hidden in the deep By @heartsmadeofbooks
Kurt Hummel's only concern was getting the perfect role in the perfect Broadway show. But when one night he witnesses a real nightmare, Kurt's focus shifts from saving his career to saving something much more important: his own life.
5. Your choice: I’d cry a river just for you by maanorchidee @forabeatofadrum
Seven years ago, Kurt and Blaine had a huge fight that ended a ten year long friendship. Now they unexpectedly run into each other in another part of the world. Can they let go of the past?
6. Summer story: The Stuff of dreams by @gleefulpoppet
Kurt is spending two weeks at the beach learning how to relax and discover new things. This morning, in a moment of insane courage, he strips naked right on the shore for his first-ever skinny dipping adventure with the rising sun as his only companion. Or at least, he thought he was alone.
7. Fic Written for a challenge: Wasn't expecting you by @darriness
Kurt meets a new father at parents group who turns his world upside down...if only the new father wasn't straight.
8. Fic that made you laugh out loud: Opened one minute ago by klaineannummel
The one where Kurt accidentally sends his best friend a dick pic
9. Genre/trope wouldn't read: The hating game by orphan_account
Blaine can count on one hand the amount of people he has hated in his life. But Kurt Hummel is definitely The Worst.
Or: That co-workers AU where they hate each other (until they don't)
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Text
It takes them a while to show up, even though Shy had specifically told all three of them 10 pm, sharp.
Still, at least they showed up at all.
Gordon is first, looking sharp and slick. Every picture of the television host.
Then comes the brother - Noah - a little harried. A little confused, but pleasant.
Lenny is last. Grumpy, black-suited and chain smoking to beat the band.
Shy sips his bourbon as he looks them all over. “I appreciate the three of you coming out tonight. I know everyone has lives to get on with, but I need about forty-five minutes of your time.”
“I’m a little confused,” Noah admits shyly. “If we’re playing ‘one of these things is not like the other...’“
“That would be true, except that we all have a person in common,” Shy explains.
Lenny narrows his eyes, turning to Noah. “Who are you?”
“Uh...Noah Weissman,” he replies. “I uh...I’m a researcher for-”
“Midge’s brother,” Gordon grumbles. “What’s wrong with Midge?”
Noah’s eyes widen. “Wait, what? What’s wrong with Midge? And-” He takes a head count of the the other men. “Why isn’t Joel here?”
“Because I do not care for his face,” Shy tells him. “Or his voice. Or his clothing. Or his attitude.”
Noah blinks. “I like you.”
Shy nods. “thanks. Look...I went by Midge’s apartment last night. We were supposed to get dinner together, and when I got there, she was sitting at her kitchen table, trying to piece together a broken casserole dish.”
Noah blinks. “The Pyrex broke?”
Shy nods. “The Pyrex broke. She said she’d gotten clumsy and dropped it.”
“Fuck chance,” Gordon comments. “That thing made it into her very first set on my show. There’s no way she would be that careless.”
“It took a while, but it turned out the ex broke it by accident,” Shy goes on. “They were talking and he lfited it up, fiddled with it and it slipped.”
Lenny narrows his eyes. “We’re sure that wasn’t on purpose?”
“No,” Shy says. “We are not sure...and she’s...not in a good place. I offered to buy her a new one - ten new ones - but she said she just wanted hers. But the damn thing is completely ruined.”
“And something tells me she’s not taking that too well,” Noah mutters.
“No, she is not,” Shy confirms. “She’s working too hard, she’s got those kids most days, her parents are insane-”
“They’re not so bad,” Lenny comments. “I mean sure they’re a handful...”
Noah looks at him as if he were insane. “When did you meet my parents?”
Lenny shrugs and takes a drag off his cigarette. “In jail.”
“I’m sorry, in-”
“That’s besides the point,” Gordon cuts in.
“I just thought, that between the four of us, maybe would could...I don’t know,” Shy shakes his head. “Make her feel better. Help her out. Do something. I’m not exactly fantastic at thinking about other people, but it broke my heart, watching her try to put that thing back together.”
“One of the last pieces of her old life,” Lenny says quietly. “That thing probably held a lot of meaning about...I don’t know. Motherhood and shit.”
“‘And shit,’“ Noah nods. “Very eloquent. Don’t you talk for a living?”
“Wait, why are you hocking me a chinik?” Lenny asks, looking confused.
“Oh, I don’t know, Mr. ‘I want to go back to being friends,’“ Noah responds, eyeing him warily.
Gordon rubs his eyes. “Lenny. Fuck. Please tell me you didn’t.”
“That is no one’s business but mine and Midge’s,” Lenny snaps. “Aside from which, I am a garbage fire.”
“Yes, but she wanted you to be her garbage fire,” Shy comments. “God are you dumb.”
“Weren’t we talking about ways to make her feel better?” Lenny pleads.
“Yes, we were,” Shy says.
All eyes land on him.
Lenny stubs out his cigarette and lights another one. “Fuck.”
“Oh, please, it’s not like you’re not dying to take back that ‘let’s just be friends’ horseshit,” Gordon accuses. “Anyone who has ever seen the two of you together knows you’re so in love with her you can’t fucking see straight.”
“That’s not-”
“Oh, no, he’s right,” Shy cuts Lenny off. “You have no chill around Midge.”
“Why didn’t I know about this?” Noah asks, bewildered. “I thought he was just some shitty guy who jerked my sister around.”
“He is, but he’s doing it because he’s terrified of being happy,” Gordon tells him.
“You all do realize I am sitting right here,” Lenny grumbles. “I can hear you bar stool psychologizing me.”
“Good, maybe you’ll get your head out of your ass,” Noah snaps, annoyed. “No wonder she’s losing it over the Pyrex. Joel leaves. She has to pick up the pieces. Shit blows up with Benjamin, more pieces to pick up. The tour blows up, even more pieces to pick up, and now you, rejecting her, and for what?”
“For-” Lenny sighs. “I just- if you knew-”
“Give me a little credit,” Noah scoffs. “I know who you are. I’ve been trying to get you off of people’s shit list for months, because you’re not worth going after, and we have bigger fish to fry.”
The other men blink.
“I work for - people,” Noah stumbles. “That’s not the point, the point is, if you love my sister, what the fuck are you doing?”
“I cannot believe this conversation has become an intervention on my love life,” Lenny shakes his head. “You know what I’m thinking? I’m thinking that between the arrests and the drugs, I am not worth the heartache that will inevitably befall your sister if I throw caution to the wind. I am thinking that she might deserve better. More than what I can give.”
“Except she just wants you,” Gordon says simply.
The four men go silent at that.
Shy sighs and eventually speaks up. “I am concerned, that this is going to spiral into a very intense breakdown. I can throw money at the problem, obviously. Noah, you’re her brother, you can rally your family-”
“Kinda,” Noah admits, a little grim. “The family hasn’t exactly been...supportive. Of the comedy thing. I mean. Joel and I both know she’s good, but our parents just think she’s vulgar and Moishe and Shirley doesn’t think she’s funny.”
“Ouch,” Gordon flinches a little. “That’s gotta be rough.”
“The life of a comedienne,” Lenny mutters.
“I can give moral support at work,” Gordon shrugs. “Give her some time off if she wants.”
“And Lenny can stop being a moron,” Shy nods. “Good. This is a good start.”
“I did not agree to-”
Shy turns to him, looking him in the eyes. “Tell me you don’t think about her every days.”
Lenny doesn’t respond.
“Tell me you don’t wish you could call her. Spend time with her. Tell me, and I’ll drop it,” Shy says.
Lenny looks away, fiddling with his cigarette.
“That’s what I thought,” Shy shakes his head.
“For all of our sakes,” Gordon pleads. “Just drop the friends thing. It’s insane, and you’re just hurting both of you.”
Lenny lets out a breath. “I’ll...I’ll think on it.”
“I’ll make arrangements for the kids to stay with Joel’s parents for a little bit,” Noah chimes in. “And I’ll find a way to get our parents out of the house for a few days. That way she can have some quiet when she’s not working, and when Lenny goes over, they won’t be interrupted.”
“I said I’d think about it.”
“Don’t forget to get her flowers,” Gordon says.
“I didn’t say-”
“Nice ones,” Shy adds.
Lenny shakes his head. “Jesus Christ. What the fuck have I gotten myself into?”
#fic#au#tmmm#Fictional Lenny Bruce#Shy Baldwin#noah weissman#Gordon Ford#and this weirdo idea I had at midnight#To Hock me a chinik (Hock me a Chy-Nick) is to give someone a hard time
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