contents: sadie adler x f!reader
pov: youâre a harlot in the 1700s and long for escapism with the fairer sex. your wishes are granted in the form of sadie adler.
(iâve been rewatching harlots and thinking about sadie and it came together to form this fic)
disclaimer: reader is f! and lesbian, in her 20s!! mentions of sex work, mentions of comphet (forcing herself to sleep w men), fic is set in 18th century england so progression isnât amazing for women back then. tiny hints of smut i guess but itâs more pure sapphic yearning
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The brothel smelled of perfume, sweat, and candle wax, a heady mix that clung to your skin as you walked through the dimly lit corridors. The laughter of drunken men spilled from the main hall downstairs, accompanied by the discordant sound of a piano being played with far too much enthusiasm and far too little skill. The air was thick with pipe smoke, curling in ghostly wisps through the low-hanging chandeliers.
You had learned to ignore the noise, the debauchery, the way men pawed at you with hands that had never known softness. It was your lifeâone of lace and rouge, of whispered lies and painted smiles. âThe finest courtesan in the cityâ they called you, and in a world where a womanâs worth was measured by what she could offer men, you had made yourself invaluable.
But it was all a performance.
Your body belonged to them, but your heart⌠your heart was caged. You had spent years locking it away, crushing the longing that stirred when a womanâs fingertips grazed your skin, when a ladyâs lips brushed your cheek in a farewell that lingered too long. You had seen what happened to women who let those feelings slip through their pretty little facades. You had seen the ruin, the scorn.
So you had buried it deep.
Until the night she arrived.
The doors swung open with an abrupt force that sent a hush rippling through the parlor. You didnât look up at firstânew patrons were nothing unusualâbut something in the air shifted. The murmur of voices lowered, the sharp scent of gunpowder and leather cutting through the usual sickly perfumes.
Then you heard her voice.
âIâm lookinâ for some fine company.â
It was not the slurred, lecherous drawl of a man looking to drown his loneliness in warm flesh. It was smoother, edged with something dangerous, something untamed. You turned your head, and there she wasâleaning against the doorway like she owned the whole damn place.
She was unlike anyone you had ever seen.
She wore no silks or satins, no powdered wig to hide the wild golden hair that fell over one shoulder. Her clothes were travel-wornâbrown leather, dusted with the road, a pistol strapped to her hip as though it were as much a part of her as her own hand.
And then there were her eyes, sharply assessing you. You felt something shift in your chest, something unfamiliar and terrifying.
You forced a practiced smile and smoothed your skirts, rising with a grace that belied the way your pulse hammered beneath your corset.
âThat depends on the company you seek,â you said, voice sweet as honey, though your throat felt dry.
Her lips twitchedânot quite a smile, but the ghost of one.
âI reckon Iâll take you,â she said simply, flicking a coin onto the table between you.
You reached for it, but before you could grasp it, her hand caught yours. Rough leather against soft skin. A touch that was not forceful, not demandingâjust firm. Deliberate.
You swallowed, tilting your head. âAnd what is it you seek tonight, MissâŚ?â
She released you, eyes flickering with something unreadable. âSadie. Sadie Adler.â
Without another word, you led her upstairs, past the shadowed alcoves where other courtesans entertained their clients, past the prying eyes of the Madame who arched a brow at your choice of patron.
In the candlelit glow of your chambers, you turned to face her, expecting the usual motionsâthe pretense, the undressing, the transaction.
But Sadie merely leaned against the bedpost, arms crossed, eyes studying you like she was peeling back layers no one had dared touch before.
âYou donât belong here,â she murmured.
The words struck something deep inside you, something you had spent years trying to forget.
You let out a soft, breathy laugh, though it did nothing to steady you. âAnd where do I belong, then?â
Sadie pushed off the bedpost, stepping closer. âSomewhere you ainât gotta pretend.â
Her voice was steady, but there was a softness there, an understanding.
You hated how much you wanted to believe her.
Her gloved fingers traced the lace at your wrist, not in possession, not in demandâbut in question. A silent ask.
The room was quiet, save for the distant sound of rain beginning to patter against the window.
You swallowed. âYou paid for an hour.â
Sadie exhaled through her nose, almost a laugh, but there was no amusement in her gaze. âThat what you want? For me to pay you for this?â
You had played this game before. You had entertained noblemen who thought themselves charming, who feigned affection to ease their own guilt. But Sadie was not like them.
She was giving you an out.
You had spent your life being touched without being felt.
And yet, for the first time, someone was offering you the choice.
The silence stretched, fragile as spun glass.
Then, barely above a whisper, you spoke the most honest words of your life.
âThen come here, darlinâ.â
For the first time in your life, you did not hesitate.
The space between you and Sadie disappeared with the quietest of movements. She reached for you, slow as the tide drawing back from the shore, giving you every chance to stop her.
Her hands, clad in worn leather, traced the line of your corset where ribbon met fabric. Unlike the men who had come before herâclumsy, impatient, eager to takeâSadieâs touch was careful. Reverent.
She pulled off her gloves, one finger at a time, letting them drop to the floor before her fingers found the laces at your back.
âYou alright?â she murmured, so low you almost didnât hear it.
You swallowed, nodding, though you had never been more uncertain of anything in your life.
Sadie exhaled softly against your throat as she leaned in, her breath warm, teasing but never taking. Her hands moved slowly, tugging the ribbons loose, easing the tension from your ribs inch by inch. No one had ever undressed you like thisâno rush, no fumbling hands, no tearing at fabric like you were something to be unwrapped and discarded.
Your corset fell open, slipping from your shoulders, leaving your chemise the only thing between you and the cool air. You shivered, but not from the cold.
Sadie pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, so light it was barely there.
âYâknow,â she murmured against your skin, âI never paid for an hour with someone just to take my time like this.â
You let out a breathy laugh, the sound unexpected, even to yourself.
Sadie lifted her head, her lips curving into something soft, something knowing.
ââCause I figured no one ever has.â
Your heart clenched at that because she was right.
The men who had touched you before had done so with hunger, with greed. They had never asked, never waited. Never made you feel like you were anything more than a fleeting indulgence.
Sadie made you feel like something precious.
Her fingers found the hem of your chemise, pausing again, waiting for permission.
You inhaled sharply, caught between fear and want. No one had ever touched you like thisâlike you mattered.
Slowly, tentatively, you covered her hand with yours, guiding it upward.
That was all the answer she needed.
She pulled the fabric over your head, leaving you bare in the candlelight. The fire in the hearth flickered, its glow casting golden light across your skin.
Sadieâs eyes roamed over you, but there was no hunger, no entitlementâonly admiration.
She lifted a hand, brushing the back of her fingers down the curve of your spine, so gentle it sent a shiver through you.
âYouâre beautiful,â she whispered.
The words sent warmth pooling in your stomach.
No one had ever told you that without wanting something in return.
Sadie cupped your face, tilting it up so you had no choice but to meet her gaze.
âYou still alright?â she asked again, voice rough but tender.
She smiled, then leaned in, finallyâfinallyâclaiming your lips with her own.
Her kiss was slow, unhurried, as if she had all the time in the world. Her lips were warm, slightly chapped, tasting of whiskey and something untamed.
She kissed you the way a woman should be kissed. No force. No expectation. Just quiet, lingering want.
Your hands found her waist, tugging at her belt, but Sadie pulled back just enough to smirk against your lips.
âEasy, darlinâ,â she murmured. âAinât no rush.â
Your breath caught in your throat.
There was always a rush, always a demand, a need to perform, to please. But Sadie⌠Sadie was waiting.
Your chest tightened, a strange ache settling beneath your ribs.
You had never been seen, never been loved like this before.
