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freedomfireflies · 1 year ago

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Better Not Pout*

Summary: The one where Harry isn't leaving until he gets what he really came for.

You.

Word Count: 10.6k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, violence, guns, gunplay, exhibitionism (This one-shot is a bit darker, so please only read if you feel comfortable! 💞)

December 24th, 1945.

The streets of Chicago are cold. Windy. Dark. Everyone is either at home, visiting loved ones, or spending their Christmas Eve at the one place they know they’ll be welcome.

The Bees Knees – the renowned, underground speakeasy – is rather sparkling tonight. The customers continue to bustle in, some here for the booze, some here for the atmosphere and warmth, and some for the entertainment.

You.

You’re one of the establishments best performers, three nights of the week. Employed by none other than Johnny Winters himself to sing for the lost souls of Chicago as they drown their worries in a bottle of whiskey.

You quite like your job, and the people you work with. Milton, who tends the bar, always has a compliment to lend, offering you engaging small talk between sets or any new mixes he might make.

And Johnny isn’t so bad. But perhaps you’re a bit biased, seeing as he is your fiancé. But more than that, he’s one of the most powerful men in all of town. And considerably wealthy, which you suppose doesn’t exactly hurt.

But he’s also kind. Giving. And so very attentive. He spends every second he’s not working with you. Doting on you, showing you off to all of his friends. And having such a handsome man on your arm is certainly not the worst thing.

Tonight, however, Johnny is nowhere to be found. Which you don’t consider to be too terribly odd, given how much work he mentioned he’d be catching up on.

Even still, he hates to miss your performances, and insisted that you keep a part of him with you as you take center stage tonight in the small bar.

That part happens to be in the form of a stunning red, silk dress that was gifted to you for this very occasion. It sits on your frame like it was always meant to be yours, hugging every desirable curve, and showcasing just enough skin to taunt the imagination of those in the audience.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so beautiful, and you walk up the steps tonight with pride. Shoulders back and painted lips poised with your first song.

The few gentlemen scattered across the main floor holler when the spotlight finds you, and you offer your signature smile.

“Evening, gentleman,” you call as the pianist begins behind you. “How are you all doing tonight?”

A few whistles are offered that make you laugh, and just like that…the show begins.

Santa Claus Came in the Spring is always a favorite, and you croon the festive lyrics while the live band follows your lead.

And even though the crowd is rather dull and distracted, you have a blast. You feel comfortable in this role and in the way their eyes drink you in. Even if their attention drifts between you, their drinks, and the cigars.

In fact, you get so swept up in your act that you hardly notice the door open or the tall, lanky stranger that slinks in from the cold.

But when his head lifts, and his eyes find yours, you feel a hitch in your throat.

Unfortunately, he looks away all too quickly, pulling off his trench coat before moving along the shadows toward the far end of the bar.

He goes unnoticed by those around him, yet your attention follows him all the way to the booth that he settles in. And it stays even after he’s leaned back, gotten comfortable, and pulled a cigarette from his rather expensive looking suit pocket.

But even though your focus has drifted, you don’t miss a single beat of the song. After all, you could sing it in your sleep, and this habit serves you well as the intriguing stranger finally shifts into the light and allows you a better look at his face.

He’s…stunning. Absolutely beautiful, with his slicked back curls, sharp jaw, and pointed nose. And he’s lighting the end of a cigarette with what you can only call practiced precision before perching it between his two, crimson-colored lips.

Rings adorn his fingers as he holds the nicotine to his mouth, inhaling a long drag before exhaling the dark smoke from his lungs.

Yet unlike the other patrons in the bar, this man seems to be rather put together. He’s not missing any teeth, his skin isn’t stained with dirt or grease, and his clothes appear to be rather new. It’s quite the upgrade from the usual appearance you’ve grown used to, and you can’t help but feel rather relaxed.

And it’s now that you realize that this striking stranger seems to be watching you much like you’re watching him. Studying your dress, your silhouette, the way you grip the microphone stand. He takes in each detail presented before him with what looks to be wonder, and your cheeks instantly grow warm.

Still, you carry on with the ballad, making your way through the final chorus and the last few notes as the band plays you out with a flourish.

The few men in front of the stage clap, and you smile gratefully as you nod your thanks and call out your appreciation.

Jingle Bells is next, and a few more people join in on the fun this time around. They clink their glasses together or belt out the lyrics a few seconds too late and wildly off-key.

Even still, it’s rather fun as you continue on with your set before finally wrapping it up with a high note that’s accompanied by a rather lively trumpet solo.

And once it’s all over, the room bursts into applause. You wave to the growing audience, taking a quick bow before gesturing toward the band. Offering them their due praise which the crowed quickly obliges.

But you notice the man in the booth keeps his expression indifferent as he continues to watch you exit the stage and make your way to the bar. He doesn’t applaud your performance or even offer a smile of encouragement. He merely takes another hit of his cigarette and throws his arm over the back of his seat. A position you imagine is intended to display dominance more than it is to find comfort.

Truth be told, you find it rather unnerving. He doesn’t seem to be here for the alcohol or the company. Perhaps he’s only here to get out of the cold or perhaps he’s avoiding his home.

Either way, his focus stays only with you, and you feel a sharp chill run down your spine as you turn to the counter and flag down Milton’s attention.

You ask for a drink and request that he tell Johnny that you’ll be waiting in his office until he arrives.

He quickly agrees, preparing the beverage for you before jutting his chin toward the silent stranger.

“Want me to have him escorted out?” he asks, but you only smile as you shake your head.

“No need, I’m sure he’s harmless.” You take the crystal glass and tip it toward him in thanks. “Besides, the attention is rather nice.”

Milton nods his understanding and you leave it at that, taking your drink toward the hallway just off the corner of the room.

You sip leisurely as you stroll to Johnny’s office, picking up the edge of your long gown so it doesn’t drag on the floor. The sounds of the crowd grow quieter and quieter with each step you take, and soon, it’s nothing but silence.

After retrieving the key Johnny insisted you keep on you at all times, you slip open the door, and make your way inside.

It’s quite dark, given the time of night and lack of lighting. He’s only got three lamps in the room, one by the window, one on the shelf, and one on his desk.

Right beside a photo of you.

Getting your photograph taken is quite the privilege, but Johnny insisted he have a vision of you in his office at all times. And you couldn’t help but indulge him, allowing him to dress you up and place you in front of the large contraption one Sunday afternoon in spring.

It’s his favorite thing in the entire world, and he mentions it constantly. Commenting on your beauty or your ethereal outfit. You know he’s only trying to embarrass you, but it’s still rather flattering to hear.

You grin to yourself as you take a seat in the large chair behind the wooden table. Downing the rest of the contents in your glass before setting it down and taking a glance around the large space.

Vaguely, you hear footsteps approaching just outside the door. Echoing through the hall as your grin grows a bit wider.

And as the knob turns, you expect to see the handsome face of your Johnny.

What you don’t expect, however, is the green-eyed devil and his quiet charm.

He’s followed you. You assume this immediately, and your heart leaps into your throat as he steps inside…and shuts the door behind him.

A tense silence settles between you as you slowly sit up and force in a quiet breath. “Hello,” you call quietly.

The sound of your unsteady voice seems to amuse him, the corner of his mouth curling up as the burning cigarette sits tucked between his lips. “Hello, mama.”

You feel your lashes flutter. “Can…can I help you?”

“I’m looking for your fiancé,” he says, and his voice is low. Deep. And you believe you catch just a hint of an English accent. “This is in fact his office, is it not?”

You hesitate, unsure whether or not to disclose such information to a stranger. “It…yes. Yes, but he’s not here right now. Perhaps you could come back later?”

“Later,” he repeats, almost thoughtfully as his head tilts. Then, he tsks. “See, I’m afraid later just doesn’t work for me. I need to speak with him right now. It’s quite urgent, and I’d like to finish this up and be home to my lover by midnight.”

“Oh…” You shift a bit in your seat and hope he doesn’t notice how nervous you’ve become. “Well, I would love to help, but I don’t believe I know when he’ll be in.”

He considers this for a moment before striding further into the room. Eyes tracking every tremble of your fingers and heave of your chest. “Can I tell you a secret, mama?” he murmurs, placing both hands on the desk and leaning closer.

You nod.

“Your boy Johnny owes me money,” he whispers. “And I’m here to collect.”

And now you understand. Now you know why he’s here. Because even though his tone is friendly, it can’t disguise the threat you know lingers underneath.

“Oh,” you whisper back, and he hums.

“Exactly. And I’m a pretty reasonable guy. Decent. So, I’ll make you a deal.” He begins to smirk behind the cigarette. “If he’s not here within the next five minutes…you and I will find another way.”

The truth is, you don’t really know too much about the financial side of Johnny’s affairs and business. You know he has plenty of money, but you don’t know what he does with it. Or where he keeps it.

And if this alluring stranger seems to think you’ll be his key…you’re afraid he’ll be mistaken.

“Problem, Doll?” He seems smug, and it makes your skin crawl. “M’not scaring you, am I?”

The answer is obvious to you both, but you force yourself straighter and attempt to appear calm. “Not at all, sir. I only want to help.”

"Mm? Good girl,” he mumbles, eyes flicking down to your painted red lips. “Knew you’d behave for me.”

Your heart is hammering inside of your chest. You’re unsure what to do now. Do you ask him to leave? Do you scream for help? Do you call the police?

And where the hell is Johnny?

He should be here by now, especially after promising to wrap up his meeting early in order to catch your last performance before Christmas. He’s always here. One of your biggest fans and greatest protectors.

The only thing you can truly think to do now is attempt to call him. You figure the police won’t get here in time, but at least if this gentleman can be assured that Johnny is on his way, he won’t be as inclined to act rashly.

However, the moment your fingers lift from the desk in order to reach for the phone, the stranger reaches for something, too.

In a matter of seconds, he’s wrapping his hand around the barrel of a gun, pulling it from his back pocket, and aiming it straight at your head. Cocking it loudly as you gasp and withdraw your arm as quickly as possible.

“What are you doin’, hm, mama?” There’s a haughty condescension in his sneer, laced with just the faintest disappointment. “Thought you were gonna be good.”

“I…I was just going to call him,” you stammer. “I know you’re in a hurry.”

The stranger studies you now, that familiar smirk beginning to fade as his attention flicks across your face. Perhaps he suspects a lie or perhaps he merely doesn’t trust you, but truth be told, you know better than to try and pull a fast one on him.

Finally, he plucks his cigarette from between his lips before tossing it to the floor and nodding at you. “Yeah? Go on, then,” he instructs, reposition the barrel at your chest. “Call your little pretty boy. Tell him he’s got a visitor.”

With a racing pulse, you once again slowly reach for the telephone, eyeing the gun carefully as you scoot closer.

You’re careful not to make any sudden moments. Hesitant to even look at him for fear of upsetting him, but your timid demeanor only entertains him further.

He simply chuckles as he slowly makes his way over to your side of the desk. Snatching up the phone just before you can reach for it and handing it to you almost cockily.

Curious, you glance up. That soft green in his eye is almost alluring, even despite the circumstance. Still, he reeks of nicotine and expensive cologne, and you lean back in an attempt to put as much space between you as you can.

He smiles. “I’m gonna watch you dial,” he tells you calmly. “Make sure you keep your word. Okay, Doll?”

Posed like a question, although you both know you don’t exactly have a choice. And you'd likely point this out if you were just a touch braver, but nevertheless, you nod. Agreeing to his terms as you take the phone and begin to dial.

As the seconds go by, you feel him watching you closely while the line rings. Leaving you to desperately await the sound of your sweet Johnny’s voice. A sound you’ve never needed more than in this moment.

Yet his voice never comes, and your heart sinks to the cold floor blow as you return the phone to the desk.

“He…he must already be on his way,” you murmur, and the man hums.

“You think so?”

You nod weakly.

He takes a seat on the edge of the desk, just inches from your arm before leaning closer. “How much are you willing to bet, hm?” His brow raises. “How sure are you that your precious fiancé will actually save you tonight?”

You feel trapped by him now. The closer he moves, the faster your heart pounds. You have nowhere to run, no personal space to disappear into.

But you only have to hold on for just a little longer. Johnny will come for you. He always does.

“Incredibly sure,” you respond, ignoring the slight waver in your voice. “He said he would be, so he will.”

The man considers this before clicking his tongue. “All right. Then how about I make you another deal, yeah? For every minute he’s late, and for every minute he leaves you here unattended…I’ll put an extra bullet through his head.”

A sharp chill runs down your spine, skin growing hot and prickly, but you force your expression to remain unfazed. “And why would you do that if you need him so badly?”

The gentleman laughs now. A sound that would almost be charming if he weren’t so vile. “Because I don’t need your precious Johnny,” he answers calmly. “I just need what’s in his safe.”

And despite the danger you’re in and despite your better judgment, your features scrunch into a grimace as you scoff, “Oh, how pathetic.”

Your reaction loosens his smile.

“Truly, how incredibly pathetic to come all the way down here at this time of night – and on Christmas Eve – just to break into his safe,” you huff. “Honestly. He won’t give you a damn thing. And you have absolutely no business to come storming in here and—”

You don’t get the chance to finish the rest of your furious scolding before he’s suddenly standing to his feet and wrapping his fingers around your arm.

Instantly, you’re yanked from your chair and shoved against the bookcase just behind you. Hard enough to knock the wind from your lungs as he traps you there, leaning in so close, his nose nearly brushes your own.

“I’d be careful how you fucking speak to me, mama,” he seethes quietly, yet even still, there’s just an air of pleasure. “Because you might not get the chance to do it again.”

He’s desperate to scare you. Desperate to see you cry, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction.

Instead, you suck in a sharp breath, and do the one thing you can think to do:

You spit.

The collection of saliva just misses his eye, landing on his cheek with a rather wet splat until the amusement fades and fury takes its place.

His fingers leave your arm and find your throat, curling around the delicate skin and forcing your head up as he begins to chuckle darkly.

“So, that’s how you wanna play, hm, Doll?” Another tsk. “You wanna be bad? Wanna test my fucking patience?”

You squirm a bit in his hold, yet for some reason, you don’t feel as frightened as you did before. Because there’s this look in his eye – this hunger. And even though his grip is tight…you feel oddly safe.

“Better find a way to keep this pretty little mouth shut,” he says next, head cocking to the left almost curiously. “Or I’ll have to shut it for you.”

His attention returns to your mouth, fingers slowly slipping up toward your chin until he can brush is thumb over the painted fibers of your lips.

Just enough to taunt you yet startle you all in the same second.

“Maybe,” you finally breathe before jerking your head away from his cruel touch. “If you knew how.”

The cocky grin widens as his hand immediately returns to your neck. “Still disobeying me, hm?” he nearly purrs. “Guess I could always just squeeze this sweet, little throat to keep you quiet, yeah? Feel your pretty pulse beneath my fingertips. Feel the life drain from your body…watch the light go out in your eyes.”

You take in a strained inhale, and he makes a sound that almost sounds like a groan.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, moving in just a bit closer until his lips are ghosting across yours. “Or maybe…I could put my gun in your mouth. See how chatty you are then, yeah, mama?”

Your chest heaves anxiously, but you find just enough confidence to whisper, “But without your gun, how will everyone know what a tiny cock you have?”

And you’re so proud of yourself. So endlessly pleased with the way you’ve managed to make his smug expression waver, even if he keeps his smirk in place.

“Oh, you think that’s funny,” he snorts as you attempt to bite back a laugh. “Well, you wanna know what I think is funny? I think it’s funny that you said Johnny would be here…and he’s not.”

“He will be,” you retort, a bit firmer. “He will.”

“See…you keep saying that,” he muses, placing one hand on the bookshelf beside your head. Truly trapping you beneath him. “And yet…your noble fiancé still isn’t here to save you.”

You tilt your head back in an attempt to appear stronger, but it doesn’t seem to fool him.

“Are you afraid?” he whispers, chest brushing against yours. “Are you afraid your Johnny won’t be able to keep you safe from the bad man?”

It’s almost hostile, the way he goads you. And yet you can hear just the slightest concern beneath his question.

“Or maybe you’re afraid he can’t pay up,” he continues. “Maybe you’re afraid he’ll have to find another way.”

Suddenly, the grip on your throat constricts. Recapturing your attention.

“Are you gonna be my other way, mama?” he exhales. “You gonna be my consolation prize?”

You feel dizzy. The room is spinning. And you aren’t sure if that’s because of the hold on your neck or the way he’s speaking to you.

However, before you can decide if you’re actually intrigued by his intimidation tactics…the sound of footsteps echo outside through the hall.

Johnny.

It has to be him. You almost need it to be him, and your shoulders unwind as the man glances toward the closed door curiously before finally leaning back.

Then, he grabs onto your arm for a second time, and flings you back toward the chair. Shoving you down and keeping you still.

“You’re gonna sit here and you’re gonna keep your fucking mouth shut,” he hisses softly right as the door swings open. “And then maybe…I just might reward you.”

But you don’t even mind this malicious threat because then you see him. Your fiancé, smiling brightly as his eyes find you before they flick to the man to your right.

For a moment, he seems surprised, seemingly assessing your position and the situation before his grin widens.

“Ah, Mr. Styles,” he calls as he strides into the room, quickly removing his hat and coat. “What a pleasant surprise. Did we have a meeting tonight?”

He seems relaxed. Almost too relaxed, as though he doesn’t view this man as a threat, and you aren’t sure whether to feel relieved or wildly confused. You hadn’t exactly expected him to grab the mysterious guest by the collar and throw him out the window, but you also didn’t expect him to welcome him with open arms.

A strange man is alone with his future wife, in his office, in the middle of the night, and that doesn’t seem to concern him even a little?

Perhaps Johnny is far too friendly for his own good.

The gentleman, in turn, straightens up while subtly slipping the gun behind his back. Tucking it into his belt just out of view before Johnny can catch it. “Not quite,” he says coolly. “I’m here to discuss a bit of unfinished business.”

Your heart sinks, yet Johnny merely nods. “Ah, I see. Well, is there any way this can wait until after Christmas? It’s been a long night, and I’d like to be getting the lovely lady home.”

Now, both of their stares turn to you, and eagerly, you begin to rise from the chair. Grateful for the opportunity to leave this unsettling stranger behind.

Yet before you can even find your footing, the man’s hand is coming down in a firm smack on your shoulder to force you back down.

“I’m afraid the lovely lady isn’t going anywhere,” he replies, and you catch Johnny’s expression fall. “And neither are you. Have a seat.”

Johnny begins to frown. “Look, Harry, whatever business we might have, I’m sure it can—”

“I said, have…a seat,” the man – Harry – repeats a bit brasher. “Yeah? Or things will get a lot worse for your darling fiancé.”

Johnny hesitates, eyes flicking to yours. But he must notice the panicked look you wear because he finally sighs and does as instructed. Taking a seat in the chair just in front of the desk before glancing toward Harry.

Harry nods, almost proudly. “There you go. S’not so hard, is it?”

Johnny’s figure slumps but his lips purse together. “What do you want?”

“Oh, I just want to talk,” Harry says, his smirk returning. “And lucky for you, your schedule just cleared up.”

“Harry—” Johnny begins, leaning closer as though getting ready to stand.

But instantly, Harry is reaching back behind him for the gun, pulling it free, and aiming the barrel straight at his head.

Johnny quickly leans back, eyeing the weapon hesitantly while you gasp and glance up at the stranger pleadingly.

Harry only looks at Johnny. “See, I’m running out of fucking patience. Eight goddamn months I’ve had to listen to you go on and on about this special fucking shipment you got. And now…it’s time to collect.”

Your sweet fiancé understands now. Realizes why this man is here and how real the threat is, and glances back at you almost apologetically.

You merely mouth, “It’s okay.”

Johnny’s eyes flick back to the gun. “I’d be careful waving that thing around. Somebody might get hurt.”

The man merely hums. “Oh, I’m fucking counting on it.”

Now, the office grows quiet. A tense, charged sort of energy that filters between the three of you as Harry begins to walk around the desk.

“So,” he continues, grabbing onto the other free chair in order to spin it around and sit in a straddle, “where’s the safe, Johnny?”

Johnny’s brow raises, but his Adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. Down at the club, you said you just got a brand new, fancy safe to hold everything from your latest shipment. Practically bragged about it to the whole goddamn bar, yeah? So…where is it?”

With piqued interest, you look between the two men curiously as you await Johnny’s answer. You’ve never really been sure where he gets all his money. You assumed most of it came from the bar and alcohol sales, so you’re rather stumped by what sort of shipment they might be referring to.

However, Johnny isn’t so quick to divulge all his secrets. “And what is it you’re expecting to get out of my safe, Mr. Styles?”

There’s another heavy pause as Harry rests his arms over the back of the seat and whispers, “Everything.”

Instantly, Johnny scoffs. “You think you can storm into my office on Christmas Eve and threaten my fiancé? Threaten me? That you’re entitled to anything you damn well please?” A bitter scoff as he leans back. “You’ll be arrested before morning, and you’ll never see a red fucking cent.”

His retort dangles between them for only a moment as a breath catches in your throat. Pulse racing as you watch the stranger’s reaction closely.

Yet the mystery man doesn’t so much as flinch as he suddenly repositions the gun into the air, aims it just to the left of Johnny’s head, and fires.

The sound is deafening, much like your sharp, shrill shriek as the bullet flies through the air – just missing Johnny’s ear – and lodges into the wall behind him.

Johnny immediately flinches, eyes screwing shut and muscles recoiling before he seems to realize that he remains unharmed.

And once he does, he takes a deep breath, and begins to smirk. “You missed.”

“Did I?” Harry runs his tongue over his bottom lip before re-cocking the gun. “No, see…I never fucking miss. That was your first warning.”

Johnny simply snorts. “Yeah? Well, eat my shit.”

Things move quickly from there.

Harry is instantly on his feet, tossing the chair aside rather angrily before he’s turning to you once more. And you don’t even have a moment to think before you’re being yanked from the seat for a second time and immediately tugged to his chest as he presses the barrel of the gun into the side of your temple.

“Where’s the fucking safe, Johnny?” he says again, and you notice Johnny’s face pale.

“Styles,” Johnny murmurs, “you don’t have to do this—”

“The safe,” he seethes. “Where is it? Or do you need a little incentive, huh? Need to see her pretty little brains all over your goddamn floor? Is that what it’s gonna take?”

Poor Johnny doesn’t know what to do. He looks from the gun, to your face, to the arm keeping you hostage.

And you almost feel bad for him, yet you aren’t even afforded the chance for empathy before Harry furiously growls and shoves you in Johnny’s direction.

You stumble across the wooden floor until Johnny can quickly take you into his embrace, keeping you safe from the bad man as you begin to sniffle.

“My love,” he whispers, tightening his hold on your trembling frame while turning you away as if to protect you. “It’s gonna be all right, I promise.”

With a quick nod and a hiccup, you look up and slip your hands around his neck for comfort. “I know.”

He smiles.

It’s Harry’s disgusted sneer that brings you attention back. “Fucking pathetic. Really, mama? This is who you choose to save you?”

Your features fall ever-so-slightly while Johnny begins to pull you behind him, shielding you from the aggravated aggressor. “If you need money so badly, there are plenty of other ways.”

“It’s not just about money,” Harry retorts calmly. “It’s about your money. Yeah? So where’s the fucking safe.”

“None of your goddamn business—”

The reply no sooner leaves his mouth before there’s another gunshot fired into the air.

One of the paintings on the wall falls with a crack and you jump almost two feet into the air, nails scratching down Johnny’s nice shirt.

“Johnny,” you whisper faintly, refusing to let this go on any longer. “Johnny, tell him. Tell him, please. I don’t care about the money; I don’t care about any of it. I just want you. I love you, and I can’t lose you.”

The office falls silent as you request hangs in the air, and you feel Johnny take in a deep breath.

“Yeah, Johnny,” Harry adds in a condescending murmur. “She loves you. Don’t make her watch you die. It’d be such a shameful waste of her tears.”

Johnny looks to you, and your expression softens. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “It’s okay, I promise.”

Finally, he sighs. “Under the desk.”

Harry’s head whips toward the large table curiously before he frowns. “Where?” he murmurs before repositioning the gun at Johnny’s chest. “I promise you don’t wanna lie to me.”

However, Johnny’s indifferent expression remains. “Under the desk,” he repeats while thrusting his chin toward the massive piece of furniture.

And now Harry seems to understand, although it does little to relax him as he suddenly reaches for you again and yanks you from your lovers’ arms.

“Show me,” he hisses, keeping you hostage again while ushering Johnny forward with the barrel of the weapon. “And don’t be dense.”

And Johnny can do nothing but obey, seemingly defeated while sending you one last remorseful look. Finally moving to lift the desk and pull it back.

The sound of wood scraping against wood is heavy, and it takes him quite a while to relocate the table beneath the window by himself.

But once it’s out of the way, you notice a particular part of the flooring juts out. The rotten board almost askew.

You and Harry lean closer, both magnetized by intrigue as he bends down in order to wrench the board up, revealing the hollow hiding place underneath.

And there you find it. The large, black box with a gold dial in the middle.

He glances up toward Harry, perhaps looking for permission – which Harry quickly gives him – before reaching down to put in the correct combination.

And after a couple seconds of clicking and turning…the door swings open.

Truth be told, you were hoping to find a secret gun that might help you out of this situation, but it seems there are no weapons to be found as Harry shoves you back in order to get a better look.

He no longer seems concerned about Johnny or the possibility that he might attempt to attack because Johnny seems to have given up.

All your dejected fiancé does is straighten up and motion you back to him, watching Harry bend over and reach inside the safe almost uninterestedly.

Your heart aches for him, yet you can’t help feeling relieved. You’re a few steps closer to this wretched night being over, and perhaps once Harry has what he came for, you’ll be able to leave.

“Are you all right?” Johnny whispers to you now as Harry begins to unload the contents in the floor.

You nod quickly, clinging to his strong frame as though you’re scared you might be taken again. “Yes, I’m all right. Are you?”

“I will be once I know you’re safe,” he says, and your heart sinks.

Once everything inside the safe has been shoved into a bag, Harry turns to the two of you. “That was a good start, Winters. Now where’s the rest of it?”

Johnny frowns. “I don’t know what you mean. Everything I have is in there.”

But Harry only tsks as he sets the items down and begins to stride closer, making you curl even further into Johnny’s embrace. “Come on, now,” he mumbles almost tauntingly. “You know what I really want. And you know that you’re gonna fucking tell me. Isn’t that right, mama?”

He looks to you for only a moment as you swallow.

Johnny begins to seethe. “No. No, you can have everything else, but you won’t touch that.”

“Johnny,” you try, unnerved by the sudden look of warning in Harry’s eye. “Johnny, please…just give it to him. Whatever it is, I don’t care, just…just make him leave.”

“Smart girl,” Harry adds. “Come on, Johnny boy, your darling fiancé is scared. Don’t you wanna save her?”

Your lover simply grows stiff, eyes narrowing at the faux sincerity in the stranger’s voice.

“Johnny,” you mumble again. “Johnny, please, he’s right. I’m scared and I don’t care about what you have or what you don’t have. I just want you. And I want him to go away.”

Still, Johnny wrestles with his decision. With the choice he’s being forced to make, and as the seconds go by, Harry’s patience reaches its limit.

He grabs for you – again. Forcing the weapon under your jaw this time around as Johnny’s muscles tense and his fingers curl into his fist.

“God, look at him,” Harry whispers to you now, lips ghosting up the shell of your ear while forcing your eyes on your fiancé. “Fucking look at your pathetic excuse for a man.”

You attempt to remain indifferent – appear unafraid – but he sees right through you.

“D’you really think he cares about you, Doll?” he murmurs. “Do you really think he’ll choose your life over his own?”

“Let her go,” Johnny barks, yet it only forces the barrel even further into your skin.

Your chin is tilted up, a sharp inhale getting caught in your throat until Harry begins to chuckle.

“How about this,” he says. “I’ll let you choose, mama. I’ll let you decide if he gets to watch me kill you…or if he gets to watch me take you. All for myself.”

“Fucking piece of shit—” Johnny hisses, but Harry simply tsks.

“So, what do you say? What’ll it be? Either way, I’ll have him on his goddamn knees by the end of the night. And then we all win, yeah?”

“Enough,” Johnny yells, and a strangled silence splits the air. “Fine. Fine, I’ll tell you. Just let her go.”

Harry’s arm begins to lower but not very far. “Once it’s in my hand, she’s all yours.”

And you want to resent these men for treating you like you’re some sort of object to be traded, yet you’d happily be given back to your lover if it meant you could leave this nightmare behind.

No matter the cost.

Johnny rolls his shoulders back and flicks his unrelenting stare back to his desk. “There. The picture.”

You feel your eyebrows raise while Harry slowly begins to loosen his hold on you.

“Get it,” he instructs, and with an aggravated sigh, Johnny obliges.

He retrieves the golden frame from the table before pulling open the back and removing the picture inside.

The picture of you.

It almost breaks your heart, the look on his face. Like he’s absolutely gutted to be defiling this memory of you both, and you ache to comfort him.

Once the photo has been plucked from the glass, you catch the faintest sparkle in the soft light of the moon, and hear yourself gasp.

There, sitting snug inside the small frame, is the biggest fucking diamond you’ve ever seen.

It’s…stunning. The most gorgeous jewel you’ve ever been privileged to lay eyes on, surrounded by what you can only assume to be hundreds of tinier diamonds and rubies arranged in a delicate but intricate pattern.

Altogether creating the most breathtaking necklace you’ve ever seen.

It has to be worth hundreds of dollars – thousands, in fact – and Harry reaches over to take it from the frame with the biggest Cheshire-like grin you’ve ever seen.

This is what he came for.

“You have it, all right? You have it, now go,” Johnny calls, already attempting to reach for you. “You got what you want.”

With an agreeable hum, Harry studies the necklace a moment longer before finally looking to you. “You’re right. We did, didn’t we?”

You both smile.

Instantly, you raise the gun that Harry had discreetly and secretly slipped into your hand only moments ago and aim it at Johnny’s chest.

Three.

Johnny’s expression shifts, eyes widening as he begins to piece together what’s really going on. Why Harry looks so proud and why you look so relieved.

Two.

His lips part. Ready to speak to you, whisper your name, ask for an explanation. And a part of you can’t help but wonder if you’ll feel any remorse for the deception you’ve put him through these past few months.

But as you stare at him now…you feel nothing but liberation.

One.

The third and final gunshot echoes through the air. Louder and far more permanent. Resolute.

Johnny stumbles back, unable to catch himself before he goes tumbling to the ground. A dark red stain expanding like watercolor across his chest, ruining the clean white shirt underneath.

You’d bought him that shirt.

And as the look of life slowly leaves his eye, you feel your muscles unwind, and your shoulders droop.

It’s over.

Harry’s got his arms around you before you can even release the deep breath you’ve been holding onto for so long.

“Oh, good fucking girl,” he nearly groans, pressing his lips to yours for the first time in months as you sling your arms around his neck. “Fucking hell, I missed you, mama.”

If Harry had had it his way, Johnny would have been dead months ago. He never liked this plan – not because he thought you couldn’t handle it, but because the idea of going without you for so long nearly killed him.

But it was the only way to gain Johnny’s trust. And to find his true weakness. He never would have given you the location of the safe or the necklace if you’d simply held him at gunpoint from the get-go.

No, he needed a reason to cave, a reason to put his possessions on the line in order to save something else he truly cared about.

And that’s where you came in.

Sure, it was hard to be without Harry, but you knew it had to be done. Getting these items would set you up for years. You’d never have to work in sleazy bars again. You could simply be with him…forever.

And perhaps pretending to be a stranger to him and appear frightened of his intentions wasn’t quite necessary, but you happen to like the roleplaying aspect.

The way he threatened your life as though he wouldn’t do everything in his power to protect it. The way he taunted you, teased you, scared you…when he knew deep down how much you fucking loved it.

You can still feel his fingers around your neck. The pressure of his hand against your throat, holding you still, keeping you close. You hadn’t felt it in months and a part of you wanted to keep the game going for just a bit longer if it meant you could have him.

You weren’t able to run into his arms and kiss him the way you can now and it’s…perfect. Absolutely perfect.

“Did he hurt you?” he whispers, leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw. “Did he fucking touch you—”

“No,” you’re quick to assure him. “No, never. He wanted to, but I never let him.”

“Good.” He takes hold of your hip and gives it a firm squeeze. “Good girl, knew you’d be on your best behavior, yeah?”

You grin. “Of course. Only ever thought about you.”

“Is that right, doll?”

“Mhm.” You tuck your lip between your teeth and nuzzle your nose to his. “How could it ever be him?”

His lashes flutter, and you can see the edges of his frayed sanity coming loose. He’s had to pretend for far too long, and you don’t imagine he can do it much longer.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, nearly clawing at your dress. “Then, maybe I’ll—”

“What…did you do?”

The sound of Milton’s confusion pulls you apart instantly. He’s standing in the doorway, eyes wide, expression horrified. Looking from his boss, to you, to Harry, and back.

He sees the necklace on the desk, sees the gun in your hand, sees the bag of gold and cash lying at Harry’s feet.

He understands, and your heart almost sinks. Milton was one of the good ones.

Quickly, Harry takes the weapon from you and points it in Milton’s direction.

Milton only leans back with a soft inhale while you turn to your lover and whisper, “No. No, not him.”

Harry’s pursed lips and furrowed brows never waver. “What?”

“Not him,” you repeat, as firmly as you can.

And he hesitates for only a moment before dropping the weapon and nodding his chin at you. “Grab the bag and go out the window.”

You nod your understanding before stealing one last glance at the bartender by the door.

He’s heartbroken and terrified…but his features grow softer as he finally mumbles, “…five minutes. I’ll give you five minutes.”

And you can’t help but smile.

You rush to grab what you came for and hurry to the window, with Harry right behind you. You don’t have a lot of time. Once Milton makes the call to the police, you’ll need to be far enough away that they can’t find you.

You know they’ll be looking. Know they won’t stop until they find you both – after all, they’ve been searching for you for years.

But you don’t mind a life that’s on the run, as long as it’s with him.

And the pleased smile he offers you now only confirms this.

You quickly lift the hem of your dress and begin over the ledge, with Harry right beside you to help. He takes your hand for support, keeping you steady until you can safely drop to the ground outside before he’s following suit.

The moment his feet hit the ground, you both run. The Chicago air is cold – frigid. You don’t have enough clothes to truly cover you and your feet are sore from having to wear these outrageous shoes all night.

But you somehow feel…alive. Invigorated and so very free. You have everything you’ve ever wanted.

You have him.

You both slip along the shadows as you make your way through town, leaving the speakeasy and Johnny Winters behind. After a minute or two, you hear the sirens in the distance, and the stakes are raised. They grow louder and louder the closer they get, and it’s then that Harry recaptures your hand and tugs you into a dark alleyway for cover.

This is where you stay until the cars have zipped down the street and proceeded without you. They don’t even think to look for you here and you’re rather impressed with your lover’s quick thinking.

Harry, however, isn’t as quick to revel in the success. Continuingly peeking around the corner in order to watch for anything unusual. Ignoring your amused laughter and giddy grin of accomplishment.

He’s on edge. Alert. Ready to run again if need be, and while you rather admire his practiced precision, you hope to put it to better use.

You drop the bag near the wall and make your way for him, palms quickly finding his cheeks in order to pull his attention to you.

He grunts. “What?”

But you don’t answer with words. You answer with a kiss. A kiss that makes your stomach flip and your mind grow fuzzy.

And this seems to be explanation enough as he groans with approval and wraps his arms around your middle to keep you against his chest. Nipping and licking at you as though his life depends on it.

Perhaps it does.

He shoves you back against the brick after only a few seconds, finding the leverage he needs in order to deepen the kiss and truly claim you. In a way he’d been desperate to the moment he saw you sitting in that office in such a beautiful dress.

“Trying to distract me, hm?” he murmurs, and you can’t help but smile. “Yeah? Or did you just need me that badly?”

He spins you around, pressing your cheek to the cold blocks of clay before dancing his fingers down your spine. Indulging in you.

It makes your insides twist.

You feel the hem of your dress gather in his fist as he finally gets a proper look at what he’s been missing for months. And the sound he makes goes straight to your cunt.

“You filthy fucking thing,” he whispers, rather delightedly while moving in to trail his mouth along your neck. “Look at you. Look at how perfect you are.”

His fingers find your pussy, stroking over your covered slit once or twice before plucking the covering from your hips and dragging it down your thighs.

“Just dripping for me, yeah? All fucking night.” He drags his palm up the inside of your leg. “Power makes you weak, doesn’t it, mama?”

You nod desperately, unable to answer with words.

But he understands, smirking to himself rather deviously before his hands are tangling in your hair in order to yank your head back. Just to hear you choke on a whine. “I’ve waited months for this. Yeah? M’gonna take my time with you…gonna make it worth it.”

And you don’t doubt that you will.

You nod again as the sound of his leather belt coming undone echoes between your ears. You’re trembling with anticipation, body aching for the feel of his cock. It’s been far too long, and you’ve nearly withered away without him.

You imagine he feels about the same, already fisting himself in one hand and readjusting your dress in the other. You hear him mumble something under his breath – you’re not quite sure what. But you suppose it doesn’t matter. He can say whatever he likes as long as he gives you what you need.

Normally, he’d take his time. He loves to make a show out of ruining you, but there’s no chance for that tonight. No patience. So, he kicks your feet apart, grabs your hip, and eases himself in all before you can take a breath.

And it’s perfect. Exactly the way you remember. The stretch, the scratch, the desperation. Nobody feels the way he does, and you both know it.

He’s still for a moment, merely pushing himself in and watching your pussy swallow him whole. As if so overcome by the sensation that he can’t do much else. As if losing control over his own body.

So, you push against his chest to remind him you’re here while your fingers reach back for his hair in order to tug it softly.

You feel him smile against your cheek. “All fucking night,” he whispers the moment he’s buried to the hilt. “Knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?”

You grin as well. You’re rather happy he noticed.

“Spitting in my fucking face,” he continues. “Challenging me. Acting like a fucking brat. S’all cause you were so fucking needy for me, wasn’t it, mama?”

“Maybe,” you can’t help but retort. “Maybe I knew you’d like it.”

He laughs now. A low, deep, sadistic sound from the back of his throat. Using his hold on your scalp to force your head into his shoulder. “Is that right, hm?”

You only nod.”

“Yeah? Then say it,” he hisses. “Tell me you missed me. Tell me you missed my cock. That nobody fucks you like I do—”

He accompanies this request with his first, sharp thrust. Pulling back only to drive himself in so hard, the air is nearly knocked from your lungs.

“Because they can’t, can they?” he coos, yet it’s angry. Fingers moving from your hair to your neck. Squeezing until you gasp. “Nobody knows how to treat this little pussy like I do. Do they?”

You fall mute. Going limp in his hold as the pleasure begins to build.

“You love it when I fuck you like this.” His nose presses to your cheek as he breathes, your delicate throat a plaything in his touch. “Love it when I kill for you. Love it when I make you mine—”

You gasp at the ecstasy, hardly able to hear him, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You love me,” he murmurs, and you just about disappear into his embrace.

“I do,” you gasp, almost too loudly. “I do, Harry, please—"

“Quiet,” he hisses, glancing now toward the street in order to make sure the police haven’t found their way to you. “You know better than that. You’ll take me and you’ll do it quietly. Understood?”

Your only response is to whimper pitifully while your nails scratch down the brick walls of the alley.

In turn, he grasps onto your jaw, forcing your head to the side until your eyes can meet. “I said, is that fucking understood?”

“I thought you said to be quiet,” you can’t help but retort, and he hums.

“Oh, is that how you wanna play it?” He releases your throat only to take hold of your hips once more and spin you around between thrusts. Quickly returning to his place between your thighs before lifting one of your legs and hiking it around his waist.

“What…” you begin, chest heaving as the tip of his cock drags down your clit. “What are you—”

“Had to see you,” is his gritted response. “Had to see this pretty, bratty face as I ruined you.”

You imagine you’d smile if you weren’t so close to coming apart, but he understands. Pressing his forehead to yours before reaching up toward the top of your dress and ripping the fabric down to reveal your chest.

You can tell he’s been wanting to do this all night. Know he’s been ogling your tits from behind the expensive fabric since the moment he walked in, and truth be told, that’s the real reason you wore it.

Not because Johnny loves you in red.

But because Harry deserved to look at something pretty.

The cold air meets your skin with an unforgiving fervor, and you squirm against the brick as Harry’s eyes fall to the tattered fabric lying so pathetically on your chest.

Instantly, his head dips, mouth leaving open and sloppy kisses to the beautiful pair before him. Tongue stroking the hardened nipples rather respectfully, all things considered.

In turn, you run a hand through his dark curls as he does this to you. As you watch him take whatever he wants. Feeling the way his hair moves like butter between your fingers. The way he hums against you. The way his lashes flutter.

You’ve missed this.

Then, your grip tightens, and you yank his head up until his lips can meet yours. And you take. Take the taste of him, the taste of you, and the taste of victory.

His palm comes up to rest against the wall beside your head. Steadying himself as he works to find that perfect rhythm again. Over and over and over.

And all you can do is move your anxious kisses to his throat as he fucks into you. Whispering, “Nobody, baby. Nobody feels like you do. Nobody.”

Your fingers trail down his strong back, feeling each muscle that dips and flexes as he moves. The way he grunts when you scratch your nails down his spine. The way he consumes you and succumbs to you all at once.

Johnny was beautiful, but Harry is a beast. You’ve never seen a man like this before – never felt a man like this before. Every curve of his body is ethereal. Every detail, every touch.

Your touch continues to move lower and lower down his strong frame until you find something at the base of his spine.

And it makes you grin.

You slip it from his belt with ease, feeling the way it sits firmly in your hand as though it were made for it.

Harry doesn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps he just doesn’t care with the way he’s so deep into you. Emotionally, physically.

But he’s quickly pulled from his pleasured trance the moment he feels the familiar, cool touch of his gun sweeping across his jaw.

He stills. Straightening up ever-so-slightly, eyes finding yours.

But you’re too busy gazing at the barrel that dances across that beautiful face.

After all, he got to have his fun this evening.

Now it’s your turn.

You bring it to a stop just under his chin, tilting his head up exactly the way he’d done to you earlier as he releases a deep breath.

“Mama…” he warns, but you only hum.

This isn’t the first time this deadly weapon has made this an unofficial threesome, but it is certainly the first time you’ve been the one to wield it.

You hate guns. You do. But you love Harry’s. The way he holds it. The way he handles it. The way he uses great care and great power.

Because there’s something about seeing him with it. Seeing the way he controls it, controls the room. The way he holds someone’s life in the palm of his hand…

Perhaps you should be concerned by how enamored you are by it. By him.

But not tonight. Tonight, you simply enjoy.

And from the look in his eye, he seems to be enjoying it, too.

After all, you know he loved watching you use it on Johnny. Know he almost had you right then and there, on Johnny’s desk, before the mission was even through.

He’s endlessly pleased with you, and you can’t help but use this to your advantage.

So, with the weapon still taut to his clenched jaw, you lean forward and ghost your lips over his. “What’s the matter, Daddy? Does power make you weak?”

The twitch of his cock is answer enough.

You go in for the kill. With your fingers dancing over the trigger button, you lean back and dip down before dragging your tongue up the length of the barrel.

His eyes nearly roll back, and the sound that leaves his chest is euphoric. You think you might just kill him.

Because you’re slow. Meticulous. Licking every inch of the weapon until you finally reach the tip still tucked just beneath his chin.

Then…you kiss him.

And he’s so overwhelmed that he growls into your mouth, no longer threatened by the gun at his throat. Instead grabbing onto the back of your neck in order to squeeze it tight and keep you close. Devour you the way he’s been so frantic to.

You don’t even realize that you’ve begun to lower the gun until you feel it snatched from your grasp.

And pressed tightly to your clit.

The cold surface of the weapon against the warmest part of your body has you arching your back with a whimper. He has the upper hand once more, and he’s certainly not about to waste it. Mouth curling up into a satisfied, smug grin at the way your expression has gone hazy.

You’ve never looked at another man the way you look at him and he knows it.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks softly, adding just enough pressure to make you whine. “All fucking night? The moment you saw me? Saw my gun? Wanted me to fuck you with it?”

Your nails meet your chest, scratching down the frigid skin in a desperate attempt to find something to ground you.

His only response is to drag the tip of the weapon down just a bit further. Until he can watch it glisten in you.

“Fucking looking at you,” he muses beneath a strained exhale, enamored by the way you subconsciously begin to grind on it. “So desperate to feel it. To be fucked by it. And what if I do, hm? What if I fuck you with my gun right here in this alleyway?”

You only whisper his name and an airy, “Please…”

“I thought about it,” he continues quietly, nose brushing yours as he slips the soaked barrel back up your cunt. “Thought about ripping off this pathetic little dress and fucking you right in front of your precious fiancé.”

You wish he had.

“You’d have liked that, wouldn’t you, mama?” His fingers drum against the handle. “Yeah? I know you would. Would have loved to watch him watch me.”

And he’s not wrong. He hardly ever is when it comes to your darkest fantasies, and it’s just one of the many reasons why you love him.

“But I had to wait,” he tells you now, finally pulling the gun away from your dripping clit until you nearly crumple to the cold concrete below. “Because after all this time…I’m the only thing that gets to fill you tonight, yeah?”

You simply nod again as he brings the gun back to your mouth with a proud grin.

And you know exactly what he wants, swiping your tongue all along the barrel and tasting every drop, every indication of your need for him. Swallowing it all as he watches proudly.

The moment you’re finished, he takes the gun and returns it to his pocket, tucking it away safely. Because he’s right again, and you need to feel him far more than you’ve ever needed anything else.

So, you grasp onto his face and bring his lips to yours, allowing him to pick up right where he left off.

Because as much as you love the power…you love being weak for him more.

At least in moments like this.

He fills you and fucks you until you’re dizzy. Until you can taste the pleasure and the unraveling.

You make a show of it. A way to apologize for all the time lost. Trailing the tips of your fingers along your own chest and down your sternum until you notice you have his attention.

He watches you take your tit into your palm before you’re tweaking the hardened nipple with a soft whine. Allowing your head to drop back into the wall while you do it again and again.

And he’s an angry sort of infatuated. Groaning almost pitifully before kissing you again and easily swatting your hand away in order to do it himself.

But that’s still not enough. So, you play your ace, and move your touch down to your clit in order to pinch it exactly the way he likes.

And it’s beautiful. The most exhilarating feeling, and this is what sends him over. The feel of your pussy clamping down on his cock, the sight of your fingers against your clit, the sound of your pathetic whimpers and pants as you cry out his name.

He fills you before he can stop himself, kissing you quickly as he releases into your aching, abused cunt.

Claiming you in more ways than one until you have no choice but to follow.

It rips you apart in the same way he ripped the dress. Until you see stars, and your back arches, and your toes curl. And everything makes sense.

He works to make it last for as long as he can, and once it’s all over, there’s a soft, tender moment of silence as you work to catch your breath.

You forget about everything else. The sirens, the lies, the deceit. Even Johnny. You forget about it all.

Because you got more than a diamond necklace tonight.

You got Harry back.

After a second or two more, you lazily reach up to sweep some of his rogue curls from his forehead. Wanting to really see his eyes as he holds you tonight.

“Harry?” you whisper into the cold, dark alley.

He hums. “Yes, mama?”

“I love you.”

And you’ve never seen him so happy. “I love you more,” he breathes, kiss you again as if to cement this vow.

Eventually, the moment comes to pass, and you have to drop your leg back down to the floor and part from him. You find that your muscles are sore, and just a touch achey, but you don’t even mind. Because it’s somehow just as deliciously pleasurable.

Harry works to readjust your dress and keep you covered; despite the way he’s ruin the expensive fabric. He offers you his jacket – insists on it. Wrapping it around your shoulders before you can even argue.

You smile as you snuggle into the warm material, feeling calmed by the familiar smell of him.

“There,” he says as he looks at you before his head tilts. “Just missing one thing.”

Curious, you watch as he slips his hand back into his pant pocket in order to fish something out.

The necklace.

He hadn’t told you about it before the mission. Only about the safe, and now you think you’re beginning to realize why.

He places it around your neck and readjusts the clasp until it can sit comfortably over your heart.

And you both look down as it sparkles from your chest, smiling together as though you truly can’t believe it’s real.

“You like it?” he whispers.

You grin so wide, your cheeks hurt. “I love it.”

He kisses you again, and it’s perfect.

Everything. All of it.

Him.

Suddenly, a loud toll echoes through the small town. The sharp chime coming from the clocktower in the town square.

Once, twice, three times.

Midnight.

“It’s Christmas,” you realize aloud as you and Harry both glance toward the clock.

His expression softens, and it makes your heart soar. “I guess it is.”

And then…you feel it. The first drop of something cold on your cheek. And then another. And another. And another. Gathering in your hair, getting stuck on his lashes.

Snow.

With a gasp, you look up into the dark sky as it dances down onto the quiet Chicago streets.

A rather perfect ending to a perfectly imperfect day.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

With a soft giggle, you curl yourself under his arm and press your lips to his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”

He laughs, and you’ve never been so happy.

“Merry Christmas, Mama.”

I'M SORRY THIS ONE GOT A BIT DARKER, IT WAS FUN BUT MOSTLY JUST FOR THE ERA ASPECT!! Thank you for reading if you did and letting me write something a little weirder 😭💞

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs

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casedclosedbye · 14 days ago

Text

Braiding the lines

Spencer reid x reader

Oneshot

Fluff

Wc: 2k

Summary: A thought popped into your head, and before you knew it, you were standing and walking toward him. "Hey," you said, surprising even yourself, "can I braid your hair?" Spencer blinked, his eyebrows quirking in that way that made him seem both completely puzzled and oddly intrigued. "My hair?" he repeated, as if it was a foreign concept.

The apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the ceiling fan, and the faint rustling of pages turning in a well-worn book. You sat on the couch, curled up in a blanket, your legs tucked under you, eyes scanning a page of your own novel—though your focus was slipping. Your mind kept wandering to the figure across the room, Spencer Reid.

He was sprawled across the armchair in the corner of the living room, his head tilted down as he focused on his book. A faint light from the lamp on the side table illuminated the sharp lines of his face, the way his hair fell messily over his forehead, and the intensity with which he read. He was always like that—so lost in whatever he was doing, so absorbed in his thoughts.

You shifted slightly, a thought flickering in your mind. It had been a while since you'd spent an evening like this, just the two of you, no case looming, no FBI emergency. Just quiet time together.

Finally, you set your book down, the decision made. The soft clink of your cup as you placed it down on the coffee table drew his attention. Spencer looked up, a soft smile forming on his face when his eyes met yours.

"Something on your mind?" he asked, his voice quiet, but that familiar edge of curiosity to it.

"Actually... yeah," you said, glancing at the pile of notes and books he'd accumulated in his space. "I was thinking… maybe I could braid your hair."

Spencer blinked, his eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion, though there was no real hesitation in his expression. "My hair?"

"Yeah. You've been letting it grow out a bit, and it's getting a little long. I could braid it for you... If you want. It seems like it could be kind of relaxing."

A surprised laugh escaped him, but it was genuine, more of a chuckle than anything else. "I’m not sure I’ve ever had someone braid my hair before," he admitted, running a hand through the mess of curls on his head. "But, I mean… I guess it could be a good way to wind down. I don’t mind."

You could sense his quiet curiosity about the idea, and as you moved to sit next to him on the armchair, the tension in his shoulders seemed to soften. You reached for his hair, fingers brushing against the slightly damp strands, noticing how it seemed to have grown longer since the last time you’d really paid attention to it.

"Alright, let’s do this." You grinned. "No going back now, Reid."

Spencer chuckled softly again, then leaned back in the chair, allowing you to settle behind him. There was a moment of silence, and you could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing, his muscles relaxing as you began to run your fingers gently through his hair. You knew he was always a bit more sensitive to touch than most people, and it made you focus even more carefully as your hands slid through the strands, smoothing out any tangles.

"How does it feel?" you asked after a moment, pausing to check in.

"Good," Spencer murmured, his voice soft, almost sleepy. "It’s… kind of soothing, actually."

"Glad you think so. You're so tense sometimes, I figured this might help."

A quiet silence settled in as you continued working through his hair, weaving your fingers through it in slow, practiced motions. You had braided your own hair for years, but doing it for someone else felt different. It felt like you were giving a little part of yourself over, offering something intimate. You’d noticed how Spencer tended to avoid touching his hair too much, almost as though he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it when it wasn’t in its usual disheveled state.

"Why don't you let it grow out more?" you asked after a few minutes, as you delicately sectioned off his hair, separating it into three strands. "It suits you. The curls are kind of… charming."

He huffed a laugh, a small, self-deprecating sound. "Charming? You’re just saying that."

"No, I mean it," you replied with a small smile. "It makes you look… I don't know, kind of mysterious? Like a mad scientist, but in the best possible way."

"Mad scientist?" he asked, sounding slightly amused, but also intrigued. "I’ve never been called that before."

"You’ve got the whole eccentric genius thing going on, I think," you said, your fingers working with his hair, weaving the sections more tightly together. "It suits you. And this," you added with a light tug, "definitely suits you."

There was a long pause as Spencer processed the comment, and for a moment, you thought he might say something in response. But instead, he just sighed in contentment, his body relaxing even further as your fingers continued their slow, rhythmic movements.

"Maybe I should grow it out more," he said, after a moment, as if considering the possibility.

You smiled. "I think you'd look good with longer hair. More people would probably notice you too."

Spencer hummed thoughtfully, as if debating that. You focused on finishing the braid, working quickly and efficiently, now that the first few sections were in place. His hair was a little longer than usual, so it took a bit more time to manage. You kept your hands steady, not wanting to rush.

"Do you think I care if people notice me?" Spencer’s voice was quiet, but there was something thoughtful about it, something more vulnerable in the way he asked.

You paused, considering his question, realizing there was more behind it than simple curiosity. You hadn’t been sure if Spencer, with all his intelligence and the depth of his mind, cared much about things like appearance. He wasn’t someone who placed importance on being seen, or at least, that’s how it seemed.

"I think," you said slowly, "it’s not so much about whether or not people notice you. It’s about… well, whether you notice *yourself* sometimes. You’re smart, Spence. You do incredible things, but I think you forget to take care of the little things. Like letting someone braid your hair, or noticing that your hair’s a bit longer than you thought."

His lips curved into a smile, but there was no teasing in his expression—just a quiet acknowledgment.

"Maybe you're right," he said, his voice quieter now, like he was mulling over your words. "Maybe I should let people take care of me more."

You finished the braid, the end of it hanging neatly against the back of his chair. Gently, you tied it with a small elastic band you found in your bag. There was something oddly satisfying about the simple act, about taking care of him in this small, tender way.

"All done," you said, leaning back to admire your work. "How does it feel?"

Spencer reached up to touch the braid, his fingers brushing over the smooth, neat sections. "It feels… surprisingly good," he said, the surprise in his voice almost amused now. "Like I’m a little more put-together than I usually am."

"Good," you said, smiling. "It’s nice to see you relaxing a bit."

Spencer gave you a small, genuine smile in return, his eyes softening as they met yours. "Thanks for doing this," he said quietly, as if the gesture itself meant more than the words conveyed. "I didn’t realize how much I needed this… Just sitting here with you."

The moment between you both lingered for a while, a quiet connection, a soft warmth in the space you shared. The apartment felt even quieter now, the buzz of the world outside fading into the background, replaced by the subtle rhythm of your breath and the shared understanding that sometimes, it’s the small things that bring people closer.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds memes #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #alex blake #david rossi #derek morgan #elle greenaway #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid au #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #ssa spencer reid #dr spencer reid #matthew gubler #matthew gray gubler

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garciaasfluffypen · 4 months ago

Text

only have eyes for them

pairing: jemily x reader, but its only established jemily in this oneshot word count: 2.4k warnings: HI I FINALLY HAD INSPO FOR THE BEGINNING OF THE SERIES!! am i writing it out of order? mayhaps. do i care? absolutely not. anyway, reader is a bit aloof but they find it endearing, hotch is being a dad (as always) and emily is cheeky

the hum of the lights above jj filled her senses as the words of the most recent case blurred together on the page. running a hand through her hair, she shifted in the armchair she had perched herself on next to her wife’s chair at the round table. the two of them had been looking over the profile for about an hour now, waiting for hotch to say the official invitation from the maryland pd had come through before calling in the team. she, emily and penelope had offered to stay and get a head start on the profile, but jj now found herself wishing she had gotten more than just a bag of cheetos from the vending machine an hour prior to get her through the briefing. penelope had already holed herself up in her office to start a geoprofile, leaving jj and emily to go over the file instead of going out to dinner like they had originally planned. jj looked up from the case file she and emily were reading over, the darkness of the bau causing her eyes to go a little blurry from straining so much. the end of jj’s pen left her mouth as she tilted her head, brows furrowed in confusion as she looked to her wife. something was on her mind.

“em??”

emily cleared her throat. “so do you… you remember how we talked about finding someone together to ask out, yeah?” ”

“… yes?” jj wasn’t entirely sure what emily was getting at. “how is that…?”

“y/n is single.”

oh. that’s what emily was getting at.

jj closed the file in her hands, setting it down on the table as she looked over to the brunette. her elbows moved to rest on her knees, realizing that they clearly were having two different trains of thought at the moment. not that it was a bad thing, per se. emily wasn’t wrong at all- she also thought y/n was one of the hottest people she had ever met. what jj couldn’t figure out was how emily’s mind had gone to them instead of staying focused on the case. she’d have to talk to her about it tonight.

“okay, you’ve intrigued me. explain.”

“i think.. i think i’d like to ask them out.” emily looked at jj nervously. “you can veto it but-“

“no no,” jj sat up straighter. “go on.”

“i just feel like they’d be a good fit for us.” emily adjusted in her chair. “they get along with both of us, they’re queer, and as a bonus they’ve been flirting back with us.”

“with you, my love. they’re flirting with you.” jj chuckled. “i haven’t tried flirting with them since we technically don’t know how they feel about polyamory.”

it was a new part of their lives even they were still exploring, if jj were being honest. hooking up with women at the gay bar was fun to an extent, but there was something missing. something more both women hadn’t fully talked about. when tara told them about the prospect of polyamory, both women's interest had peaked, leading them to stay up much later than they intended on a saturday night to read up on it. it had only been a few months of this new part of their relationship, and it seemed to be making it a lot easier for both emily and jj to sit down and talk about their boundaries and feelings than it had been in a long time. jj felt like she could bring problems to emily, and emily was able to get better at expressing her emotions and talking about them. it hadn’t been a long time doing the whole polyamory thing, but it did put them on the same page about one thing. they wanted to share the same partner.

emily still had hints of jealousy and commitment issues that she was working through, and jj simply didn’t feel right not letting emily in on her dates and nights with the other women. it had been customary for emily and jj to do everything together, and this wasn’t about to be any different.

“we’re technically their superiors. they’re only a supervisory agent.”

the brunette shrugged. “so we have hotch request for them to get a raise and a title change.”

“have you been thinking about this the whole time instead of reading the case file?” jj raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“...i plead the fifth.”

“em-uh-lee”, jj enunciated the syllables of her name. “we’re supposed to be working.”

“to be fair, it's eight pm and i usually turn off work emily at seven thirty.” emily raised a manicured eyebrow at jj. “besides, what’s the point of window shopping if we’re not going to be on the same page?”

“okay but you were the one who suggested we get started on the profile before the rest of the team came.”

“you offered to stay.”

“yeah, you got me there.” jj gave emily a soft smile. “so, enlighten me. how do we go about this?”

“start flirting with them.”

“i don’t follow.”

“let’s see how they react to both of us flirting with them. and we go from there.”

jj simply nodded, trying to figure out how she would make this work. there were only so many times she got to be alone with you… she had to find more opportunities.

“i’ll ask hotch to pair me with them for this case.” jj looked to emily. “switch up the partnerships, i’m sure alvez won’t mind being paired up with someone else, maybe with you?.”

“you sure?” the blonde nodded. “alright, i’ll do it. don’t go too crazy, though.”

“that’s your job.” jj joked, smirking. “i’ll go check on pen, let me know when hotch is ready.”

“you know it.”

meanwhile, you were halfway home when you got the call to turn around and come back. after stopping for some chinese, you made your way back to quantico to meet up with the rest of the team. you hoped that the offering of crab rangoons you got satisfied not only your hunger, but the subtle disappointment that you know everyone would be showing due to being called in an hour after leaving. making your way straight to the round table room, you shot luke a smile as he grabbed his tablet from where he left it charging on his desk an hour prior. stifling a yawn, you placed your peace offering on the table before settling into a seat next to jj, your head falling onto her shoulder as you felt your eyes flutter shut.

“hey sunshine,” jj’s voice roused you from your half slumber. “you okay?”

“mmm… sleepy.”

“did you eat before coming back?”

“i had chinese.” you hummed. “bought rangoons for everyone.”

“do you want me to go get you a redbull?”

you started to nod, then froze as jj started to rise. “no, stay. you’re a good pillow.”

jj shot a quick text to emily to grab you a redbull from the vending machine before coming over to the round table room, doing her best to keep you awake. she knew you only got chinese when you planned on going straight to bed after eating dinner, which made sense since the case you all had just finished had taken a toll on everyone. the team all looked worse for wear as they filed in, some chuckling at the sight of you half asleep on jj’s shoulder as she talked to you in an effort to keep you awake. as long as you could make it to the jet, you’d be fine. the breifing was short, since the maryland pd requested the bau to come as soon as possible, which was how you found yourself once again curled up into jj’s side in the back of a fbi sanctioned van, wrapped around her arm.

thankfully, emily and tara were the other two in the vehicle with you, since everyone else was able to pile into the other car without a problem. it was a blessing and a curse, seeing as tara had been the one to originate the polyamory conversation. however, she had no clue it was you that the older women had their eyes on. emily caught her glancing at you curled up with jj a handful of times during the ride, but shot her a look when she was about to say something. once at the jet, jj’s hand stroked your hair a few times to rouse you from your half-assed slumber to get you out of the car. in your sleepiness, you clutched to jj’s arm, not wanting to let her go. jj shot a smile to emily, knowing their plan was working.

“come on, babe, let’s get you into the jet.”

she shook her head quickly and climbed up the stairs after you two, putting her and jj’s go bags with everyone else's. she found you and jj at the four seater in the middle of the jet, wrapped around jj’s arm in the smallest ball possible with the blanket jj usually used draped over you. jj sat on her phone next to you, smirking up at emily as she sat across from them next to luke.

emily had to hold back a chuckle as she looked across the table to you two again, a smile forming as you curled up closer to jj in your sleep. you had always been a cuddler, but had never had the chance to just let go and relax in front of the team like this so nobody ever knew. nobody except for emily and jj, that is. you had fallen asleep on their couch quite a few times now, especially since their house was closer to quantico than your apartment was. they had always offered you their guest room whenever you came over, knowing that you disliked having to drive the extra thirty minutes back to your apartment when their house was only fifteen minutes away from the bau building. most of the time you would decline, however, more often than not you found yourself wanting to go over more and more.

it was a sign, you thought, to look into apartments closer to quantico.

you were roused from your sleep once again as the jet landed in maryland, but this time you felt a bit more refreshed than you did back at quantico. you stayed by jj the whole time, knowing that she had your back when it came to making sure you would get to the cars without loosing your head. you were always in a bit of a daze when you woke up, needing about ten or so minutes before you could actually get out of bed. you trusted jj to be able to guide you to the car while you woke up, considering that her hand never left yours the entire time it took you to get into the backseat. it was nice, feeling cared for. but at the same time, you didn’t know how to handle it at all.

the night faded into day as you all worked hard as you could to put the pieces together on the unsub, unintentionally staying as close to jj and emily as you could muster. there was something pulling you towards them this trip, but you couldn’t figure out what. hotch made sure you had everything you needed to work properly, including a space to decompress for when it got too much. there was only so much hustle and bustle you could endure before needing to go find somewhere quiet to sit- was it a downfall? possibly. but hotch always made sure you had that space you could go when you needed it, which was appreciated. even if you couldn’t find the words for it.

emily and jj had started fighting for your accommodations too. mainly when hotch was out and not available to talk to the local officers in your place. a majority of the time they took advantage of your meekness and unwillingness to stand up for yourself, but emily and jj had started putting a stop to that. they would make sure that nobody would treat you like shit and if they did, they ended up with both of them in their face while you hid in a corner. you didn’t know how to thank them at all, it was something you were still getting used to. but it was nice, and it made you feel loved.

you hadn’t felt loved in a long time.

the rest of the case went by smoothly and you had the guy apprehended by lunchtime on tuesday. which meant you could be back in dc by four and home by eight. it was perfect. you found yourself back with jj in the car, the two of you chatting away while you swiped at the colorful candies on your phone screen in an effort to get farther than her in the game. emily watched you two fondly from the rearview mirror, sharing a knowing look with jj. you were receptive to jj flirting with you. even if you thought it was just her being nice for now, you were accepting it and they could start moving forward with their plan.

back at quantico, the team had split up to their receptive spots to do paperwork, leaving emily and jj to sit in the round table room. you had gone to sit at your desk, but both women knew you would end up with them within the hour. jj had excused herself to go to the bathroom, leaving just emily to stare at you out the window of the room, smiling fondly once again as you bit anxiously at the top of your pen. hotch caught this out of the corner of his eye and made his way over to the round table room. emily, in her daze, barely registered hotch coming up behind her until he cleared his throat.

“fuck-!” emily placed a hand over her heart. “oh, sorry sir.”

“y/n’s pretty attached to jj right now.”

emily nodded. “they are.”

“be careful with them.” emily’s head whipped around to look at hotch. “they went through some rough stuff, and it isn’t my place to explain anything to you guys but…”

“no no, i get it. you care for them deeply.”

“and i can see you guys do too.” hotch gave emily a rare smile. “i don’t know what’s going on, and don’t need to know unless it turns into something more. but tread lightly.”

“is there anything you can tell us? just out of curiosity.”

“i know they care for you two, quite a bit. you guys are probably some of the only people that fight for them to get proper accommodations. they’re not used to handling the feelings that come with it but they appreciate it. a lot.”

with that, hotch walked back into the bullpen, leaving emily alone with her thoughts.

taglist: @jayden-prentiss @idkwhatever580 @multifandomlesbianic

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comatosebunny09 · 1 year ago

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prey | astarion a.

summary: he makes you feel like small, feeble prey. something to be slowly devoured and savored. warnings: steamy, language now playing: desert rose [ slowed ] - lolo zouaï notes: i blame astarion’s bedroom eyes for this. tagging: @nanaoise08squad

The tavern is lively tonight. Filled to the brim with laughter, music, and the clinking of mugs.

You hang back from the festivities, tucked away from the other patrons at a secluded table. Not lonely. Just prefer solitude.

You raise your mug to your companions every so often as they venture past, their mirth infectious.

There’s a smile on your face. Your body buzzes from the ale settling in your belly. You nurse your tankard, the contents of it gently sloshing about.

A laugh occasionally touches your lips. Watching everyone enjoy themselves is a welcomed sight, given the doom constantly looming over your shoulders.

Subconsciously, you find yourself sifting through the crowd in search of someone. A familiar thatch of white. Vermilion eyes. Sharp features. And like a beacon, you’re drawn to him, watching him chat up some pretty brunette on the other side of the bar.

You sit up on the barstool, unconsciously tugging at your collar. Feel your stomach plummet to your feet. Your lips part with shallow breaths, and your throat grows dry.

Who the hell is that? And why are they standing so close to him?

You’ve no time to coddle the envy blooming in your chest, for his gaze finds yours through the throng of people with laser precision. As if he sensed you looking his way, his eyes crinkle with the slightest hint of amusement.

Your heart stutters at the sight. You suddenly forget how to breathe. Trapped in a soundless stare-down, only the two of you seem to exist as the noise of the tavern fades into the background. It’s all a muddled mess to you, your senses heightened and all trained on Astarion.

His eyes dip into a mysterious shade of red whilst he studies you from beneath dark lashes. Makes you feel like small, feeble prey. Something to be slowly devoured and savored. Your bones licked clean and left on display on a mantle like a trophy.

And you still can’t quite get the hang of breathing.

He pays no heed to the person in front of him. As if they were a mere distraction—an appetizer to sate him until the main course.

He continues to leisurely undo you with his eyes, stripping you down to the marrow until you’re raw and exposed. You feel heavy. Pulsing. Dizzy. Not sure if it’s the ale filling your head with static or the depth of his stare.

Whatever the cause, you tear yourself from your seat. Wend through the crowd, gulping down air as you propel yourself into one of the dark and secluded back rooms.

The noise of the tavern peters into silence.

You press your back against a cool, textured wall, fighting to get your head back on straight. You clutch your chest. Screw your eyes shut.

Breathe. Breathe.

You realize all too late that you’re not alone.

The room’s pressure shifts. And like a prowler, he emerges from the shadows. Slow and meticulous in his steps, ingesting you with those devastating eyes aglow in the darkness, and his brows quirk with intrigue.

You can’t get your limbs to work—to move. So Astarion easily traps you between the hard press of his body and the wall, and he frames either side of your head on bent arms. The hunger in his gaze never leaves, only growing whilst his face slinks in. You swallow thickly, your legs ready to give way.

You’re a sheep cornered in a wolf’s den. Gazing up at him, your lids feeling so very heavy, your head swimming. He smells divine. Feels even better. You unconsciously tangle your fingers in the collar of his coat, drawing him closer.

His lips pan in, his lids shuttering, lashes thick. You stand on the tips of your toes, waiting with bated breath. Ever patient. Obedient. But the kiss never comes.

Instead, he teases you with the promise of one. Grazes your lips with his, sparkles of delight flittering across your face. He releases little pleased, hoarse groans you have to strain your ears to hear. And he revels in this, torturing you so. Coaxing petulant whines from your throat, and you kick your feet like an impatient child.

“Astarion,” you rasp.

“My love?” The rumble of his voice is heady. Makes you throb. His lips brush against yours again, kissing along the outskirts of your mouth, causing the delicate skin to tingle pleasantly.

“Why do you insist on being such a little shit?”

A chuckle. His nose nuzzles along yours, his hands cupping your neck below your jawline, thumbs smoothing over your chin and angling your head further back. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Astarion,” you growl. “Just…gods dammit, just kiss me already.”

You’re desperate. Breathy. Teetering along the edge, and you have to cling to him to keep from careening over it. Your senses are overhauled, filled only with Astarion. Too hot. Too many clothes. Can’t think straight. Can’t—

“Oh, darling,” Astarion croons, continuing his cruel game of keep-away when you move to close the gap between your mouths. “Where’s the fun in giving you exactly what you want whenever you demand it?” He noses along the torrid flesh of your cheek, and you can hear the cruel smile taking hold of his voice. “I rather like the sound of you begging.”

You scoff. Try to kiss him again, but Astarion won’t have any of that.

“Now.” He zooms in, ghosting his lips over yours, fully intending to make you suffer. You lunge forward as if to bite him, earning another low, guttural laugh that you feel in the depths of your belly. “From the top, my love.”

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion drabble #bg3 fanfiction

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benispunk · 3 months ago

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Who's That Girl?

Chapter 7: You Don’t Choose Your Family

Y/n gets a surprise visit of her father at the apartment. It's not that she's not happy about it...but you don't choose your family.

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, mentions of divorce, D&W.

A/N: hey!! I am BACK!! I am absolutely not done with the story nor my exams but do not worry about anything. Chapter 7 is here (*applause*) and it's the continuation of the last one😚 we are also getting more of the Logan x reader I promised you 🤭 hope you like it!!!! enjoyyyyy <3

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist / Previous Part / Next Part

Y/N wasn’t expecting the call.

Her evening was supposed to be low-key —grading papers, maybe catching a show with Logan and Wade later. But when Logan called, everything changed.

When she arrived, her father was comfortably seated on the couch, chatting animatedly with Logan. Logan looked both polite and slightly panicked— caught in the middle of a conversation he didn’t initiate. The sight almost made Y/N laugh. How Logan always ended up trapped with the chattiest person ever was a mystery.

“Dad!” Y/N greeted, pulling her father’s attention away from Logan.

“Hey, kiddo!” Your father, Daniel, stood up with a grin, acting as if this surprise visit was the most normal thing in the world. “I thought I’d drop by and see how you were doing.”

Y/N gave him a quick hug, still trying to process the unexpected visit. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

“Just figured I’d come check on you in this new place of yours!” he said, waving it off as no big deal.

Logan stood, relieved now that Y/N was here to handle things. “I’ll let you two catch up,” he murmured, retreating toward the kitchen.

“Thanks, Logan,” Y/N said softly, before turning back to her father. “You’ve met Logan?”

Daniel nodded. “Yeah, nice guy. We were just talking about his work—special ed teacher, right?”

“Yeah, he is,” Y/N replied, adjusting to the idea of her dad sitting in her apartment, chatting with Logan of all people.

A moment later, the door opened, and Wade strolled in after his shift at the bar, his usual grin plastered across his face. He spotted Y/N and her dad sitting in the living room and raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, what’d I miss?” Wade asked, dropping his bag by the door.

“Wade, this is my dad,” Y/N introduced, trying to keep the situation from becoming even more awkward.

Wade immediately brightened. “Ah, family!” he announced with his signature charm, shaking her dad’s hand. “I’m Wade. Roommate number one— the one who makes sure this place doesn’t burn down.”

Y/N tried not to laugh while Logan snorted from the kitchen. Daniel chuckled, easily won over by Wade’s humor. “Nice to meet you, Wade.”

Wade flashed Y/N a grin before slipping off toward the kitchen, joining Logan who was standing by the counter, quietly observing from a distance.

“So that’s Y/N’s dad?” Wade asked, leaning against the counter. “What’s the verdict?”

Logan shrugged slightly, glancing back at the living room. “Talks a whole lot. Very intense. Protective. Y/N’s surprised by the visit.”

Wade crossed his arms, clearly intrigued. “I know, she was at the bar when you called. Did he mention why he’s here?”

Logan shook his head. “Not really. Just asked me a thousands questions in less than ten minutes. I didn’t want to pry.”

“Good call,” Wade nodded, then peered over the counter toward the living room again. “He staying for dinner?”

“No idea.” Logan replied, though the question hung between them as they began preparing something simple.

From the kitchen, Wade called out, “Mr. Y/L/N, are you staying for dinner?”

Before Y/N could answer, her dad jumped in with a grin. “Absolutely.”

Y/N shot a look in Wade and Logan's direction, as if to say, I wasn’t planning this, but they simply exchanged a glance between themselves. They shared a silent understanding— something about the situation was off. Wade raised an eyebrow, while Logan gave a subtle nod, signaling that they were both on alert now.

With no turning back, they set about preparing a simple meal, something easy but filling— pasta and a salad. While they worked, the soft hum of Y/N and her father’s conversation continued in the background, though they couldn’t help but tune in occasionally, catching snippets of what they were saying.

———

“So,” she began, choosing her words carefully. “What brings you here, Dad?”

Daniel leaned back on the couch, his eyes scanning the room. “Do I need a reason to visit my daughter?”

Y/N gave a small, hesitant smile. “No, of course not. But you didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“Wanted to surprise you,” he replied with a shrug, though there was something in his tone that sounded off. “Thought I’d check out your new place. Make sure it’s... decent.”

Y/N nodded slowly, sensing the subtle judgment in his words. “It’s fine, Dad. I like it here.” She let her eyes drift to the kitchen where Logan and Wade were working, grateful for the slight distraction.

Her father followed her gaze, raising an eyebrow when he saw Logan. “So… Logan, right?”

“Yeah,” Y/N said quickly, confused as to where this was going. “What about him?

“He seems like a solid guy. You sure you two are just... roommates?” He asked and she bit the inside of her cheek, bracing herself for where this conversation might go.

“Yes, Dad. We’re just roommates. That’s all.”

“Alright, alright, but what about Wade?” he asked,

“What's going on with you?" she blurted, raising an eyebrow as a grin threatened to break through.

Her father held up his hands in defense. “Just asking. Your mother and I used to talk about stuff like this, you know.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the mention of her mom. Her father rarely brought her up that way, especially with how tense things still were between her parents, even decades after the divorce. It was usually more an inappropriate comment her mother didn’t deserve.

“Oh, really?” she asked carefully, not sure where this was heading.

“Yeah,” Daniel continued, his tone softening a little. “Back before things went... south. We used to wonder what you’d end up doing, where you’d live, and who you’d end up with. She always had these big ideas. Thought you’d find someone nice. Maybe settle down with a guy like one of these guys.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond but paused, momentarily stunned by his gentler tone. Her father, for once, wasn’t launching into some bitter comment about her mom.

“She really said that?” Y/N asked softly, her curiosity outweighing her hesitance.

Daniel nodded with a smile. “She did. We were always so worried about you, you know? But it wasn’t just about who you’d end up with. We would imagine your entire future, what career you’ll end up choosing, how many dogs you would have— cause you always wanted one and we always told you ‘You’ll get one when you'll have your own house’…”

Y/N was quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. It had been so long since her father had spoken about her childhood without bitterness that she almost didn’t know how to respond.

“I didn’t know you guys had my whole life planned,” Y/N chuckled, her voice softer now, her guard slowly lowering.

Daniel glanced over at her, smiling. “Yeah, well…we did that with your brother— although we didn’t expect any of his life choices, but that’s another story.”

For the first time in years, Y/N felt a connection with her father. A sense of mutual understanding that didn’t come laced with tension or resentment. It was brief, but it was something.

She smiled, a real one this time. “Thanks for telling me all that, Dad. That means a lot.”

Daniel reached over and squeezed her hand, his touch firm but comforting. “I missed you, honey.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the weight between them lighten. “I missed you too.”

Before the moment could grow too emotional, Logan called from the kitchen, “Dinner’s ready.”

Y/N looked toward the kitchen and then back at her father, who was already starting to stand.

“Well, let’s see what your roommates can do in the kitchen,” Daniel said with a faint smirk.

As they made their way to the table, Y/N couldn’t help but think that they’d actually had a good conversation. One that hadn’t ended with her dad tearing her mom down or leaving her feeling caught in the middle. Maybe things weren’t perfect between them, but for now, this small moment of peace was enough.

Daniel took the seat next to Y/N, while Logan and Wade sat on the opposite side. The conversation started politely enough, with Wade doing his usual job of keeping things light. He shared stories from his bartending adventures, as he always did, earning a few chuckles from James, who seemed to enjoy Wade’s humor.

The smell of the simple pasta dish Logan and Wade had thrown together filled the apartment. The atmosphere was initially warm, with everyone engaged in casual conversation.

“So, Wade,” Y/N’s dad said as he twirled his fork through the spaghetti. “Y/N told me you're a comedian?”

Wade grinned. “Yeah, I make people laugh for a living. Or at least try to. It’s a tough crowd out there.”

Daniel nodded. “Well, we could all use more of that these days.”

The conversation ebbed and flowed easily at first, moving between work, the city, and Y/N’s life in the apartment. Wade cracked jokes here and there, and Logan offered his quiet, thoughtful input when needed. It felt comfortable, almost like a normal family dinner.

But then, the conversation shifted.

“So, Y/N,” her dad began, his tone changing ever so slightly. “Have you heard from your mom lately? Still living the California dream, I assume.”

Y/N felt her body tense, and she shot a quick glance at Logan, who was watching her father closely. Wade picked up on the shift too, though he didn’t say anything.

“She’s doing fine,” Y/N replied cautiously. “We talked last week, actually. She’s been busy with work, but she’s good.”

Her dad gave a small, dismissive shrug. “Work. Right. And still with that guy, I suppose?”

Y/N's eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes. His name is Paul.”

Her father sighed, shaking his head. “I just don’t get it. She moves halfway across the country, barely checks in, and now with your brother all the way in Europe—”

“Dad,” Y/N interrupted. “She didn’t move across the country to get away from us. She moved for herself. And we’re fine. Sam and I are doing just fine.”

Daniel scoffed softly, setting his fork down. “I’m not saying you’re not fine, Y/N. I just don’t see how a mother can be so far away from her kids and not feel guilty. If I were her, I’d—”

“Well, you’re not her,” Y/N cut in, her voice sharper now. “You’ve been divorced for years. She didn’t abandon us, and she still cares. You don’t need to keep bringing it up like she left us to fend for ourselves.”

Logan’s jaw tightened as he glanced between Y/N and her father, sensing the rising tension. Wade shifted uncomfortably in his seat but stayed silent, eyes flicking to Logan for some kind of cue.

“I’m just saying,” Daniel continued, his voice lower now, “she could have stayed. Made more of an effort. But she left.”

“She didn’t leave us, Dad,” Y/N said, her patience wearing thin. “And honestly, Sam and I— we’re adults. We didn’t need her to stay and ‘raise’ us anymore. You’ve moved on with your life. Why can’t you let her do the same?”

Her father’s face tightened, and the air in the room grew heavy with unspoken frustration. For a moment, it felt like everyone at the table was holding their breath.

“I know you’re grown, Y/N,” Daniel said quietly, his eyes hard but sad. “But I don’t think a parent ever stops worrying about their kids. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Y/N sighed, trying to keep her voice steady. “I am okay, Dad. But you’ve got to stop blaming her for everything. This is your issue, not mine. Mom’s living her life, and I’m living mine.”

The room was thick with tension now, and no one knew quite what to say. Y/N’s father looked down at his plate, clearly feeling the weight of her words. Logan glanced at Wade, who shot him a silent look of understanding—they both knew when to stay out of family affairs.

After a long pause, Daniel finally spoke, his voice quieter than before and looking at all the people at the table. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag things down.”

Y/N softened and shook her head. “I know, Dad. But you’ve got to let this go.”

There was another silence before he nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

The mood at the table lightened just slightly as everyone tried to return to their meals, though the weight of the conversation still hung in the air.

For a moment, there was silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Then, as if on cue, Wade jumped in, his voice cheerful and light. “You know what’s great about family dinners? Dessert! Who’s ready for some ice cream?”

The sudden change in tone broke the tension, and Y/N gave Wade a grateful look. Her dad, too, seemed to relax, chuckling at Wade’s enthusiasm. “Ice cream, huh? Now that’s something I like to hear.”

As Wade made his way to the kitchen, Y/N’s father glanced around the apartment again. His eyes landed on the fridge, and something seemed to catch his attention. “Hey, is that the picture I think it is?”

Y/N followed his gaze, realizing he was looking at the family photo she had put up weeks ago.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, her voice softer now. “Wade and Logan insisted that I should put it up when I moved in.”

Daniel stood and walked over to the fridge, staring at the picture for a long moment. His expression shifted, a mixture of nostalgia and something else—regret, maybe. He ran a hand through his hair, his voice quiet when he finally spoke. “That was a good day. One of the last before things started to go wrong.”

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat. Something about the way he was looking at the photo made her heart ache.

“It was,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daniel turned to face her, his eyes softer now. “You’ve grown up so much, Y/N. I don’t say it enough, but I’m proud of you. No matter what happened between me and your mom, I’m proud of the person you’ve become. And I’m sorry for…all the mess that we caused.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at his words. She gave him a small, genuine smile. “Thanks, Dad.”

The moment hung in the air for a beat longer before Wade returned with bowls of ice cream, his voice breaking through the heaviness. “Alright, dessert is served! I got vanilla, chocolate, and this weird one Logan bought—pistachio whatever. Anyone feeling adventurous?”

Daniel chuckled, the warmth returning to his expression. “I’ll stick with chocolate, thanks.”

The atmosphere lightened once again, and they all sat back down at the table, enjoying their ice cream and talking a bit more.

As the plates were cleared and the remnants of dinner were packed away, Y/N walked her father to the door, feeling the tension of the evening settle uncomfortably between them. The earlier argument still simmered, but it had cooled to a manageable level.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” her dad said quietly, standing in the doorway. “It’s just hard, you know? Seeing you grown up, dealing with your own stuff, and not being able to do anything about it.”

Y/N offered a small, tired smile. “I know, Dad. And I appreciate that you care. But I’ve got this. You don’t need to keep fighting old battles.”

Daniel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I just still see you as my little girl. Hard to let that go sometimes.”

Y/N stepped forward and hugged him tightly. “I’ll always be your little girl, Dad. But you’ve got to trust that I know what I’m doing.”

Her father hugged her back, his arms wrapping around her in a way that felt both protective and regretful. “I’m sorry for bringing all that up. It wasn’t fair.”

Y/N pulled back slightly, meeting his eyes. “It’s okay. Just…next time, maybe we can talk about something else?”

He smiled. “Deal.”

With one last hug, Daniel stepped out into the hallway. “I’ll call you soon. Let me know if you ever need anything.”

“I will.” Y/N said, watching as her dad gave her one last nod before heading down the hallway.

When she closed the door, Y/N leaned against it, letting out a long breath. It hadn’t gone perfectly, but at least it was over. She turned around to find Logan and Wade standing there, watching her with quiet concern.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N began, her voice barely above a whisper. “I had no idea he was going to show up like that. I didn’t mean to put you both through all that drama.”

Wade, who was leaning casually against the kitchen counter, waved it off. “Are you kidding? This is mild compared to some of the shit I’ve seen and heard.”

Logan stepped closer, his expression soft. “You don’t need to apologize. Family stuff happens. We’re in this with you.”

Y/N blinked, a small, grateful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Thanks, but it was just… a lot.”

Logan nodded. “We get it. You don’t choose your family, but you can make your own, you know?”

Wade chimed in with a grin. “And lucky for you, you’ve got us, the best family you could ever create.”

Y/N laughed softly, the warmth of their words settling into her chest. “Thanks, guys.”

Logan gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and Wade, sensing the need for space, stretched dramatically. “Alright, I’m out. This emotional rollercoaster wiped me out. I’ll catch you both in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Wade,” Y/N said, shaking her head with a smile as he disappeared into his room.

Logan gave Y/N a lingering look. “You good?”

She nodded, still trying to shake off the heavy emotions of the night. “Yeah. I just need a minute.”

Logan gave her a small nod. “Take your time. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight.”

Logan disappeared into his room as well, and Y/N sank into the couch. The living room was quiet now, and for a while, she let herself just breathe. The weight of the conversation with her dad still lingered, along with the tangled emotions from the night. She found herself staring at nothing, lost in her thoughts.

The hours slipped by unnoticed, the apartment dim and silent around her. She didn’t realize how late it had gotten until she heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. Startled, Y/N turned her head to see Logan walking into the living room, his hair tousled from sleep.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low, concerned.

Y/N let out a small, humorless laugh. “I thought you went to bed.”

“I did,” Logan said, sitting down on the couch beside her. “But I saw the lights were still on and thought you had fallen asleep here.”

Y/N sighed, her eyes fixed on the floor. “Sorry. I guess I didn’t realize how much time passed. I’ve just been… thinking.”

Logan watched her closely. “About what?”

Y/N shrugged, trying to find the words. “I don’t know. Everything, I guess. My dad, my mom, the divorce… I don’t want to cry about it. It feels like I’d be a little girl again, crying over something that happened so long ago. Like I can’t move on.”

Logan leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees as he looked at her. “It doesn’t matter how long ago it was. If it’s still hurting you, it’s okay to cry about it.”

Y/N shook her head, trying to swallow the lump forming in her throat. “But I shouldn’t. I’m not a kid anymore. Fuck, I’m a grown ass adult in my thirties. I can’t let this stuff affect me like it did back then.”

Logan's voice softened. “Y/N, you’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling. You don’t have to hold it in just because it’s been years. It’s still part of you.”

Y/N felt the tears prick at her eyes, but she fought to keep them at bay. “I don’t want to cry.”

“You don’t have to,” Logan said gently. “But if you do, I’m right here. You don’t have to do it alone.”

Y/N’s defenses crumbled at his words. She felt the dam break inside her, and before she could stop herself, the tears started to flow. At first, it was just a few quiet sobs, but soon she was genuinely crying, her shoulders shaking as the weight of everything she had been holding in finally spilled out.

Logan didn’t say a word. He simply shifted closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a comforting embrace. Y/N buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking his shirt, but Logan didn’t seem to mind. He just held her, letting her cry, offering nothing but his presence.

After a few minutes, Y/N’s sobs began to quiet. She stayed in Logan’s arms, feeling the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek. It was calming, grounding.

“I hate this,” she whispered after a long pause, her voice hoarse. “I hate that it still hurts.”

“I know,” Logan murmured softly. “But it’s okay. You’ve been carrying it for a long time.”

Y/N wiped her eyes, her breathing evening out. “I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Logan said.

Y/N sniffled, pulling back slightly to look at him. “Thank you. For being here.”

Logan gave her a small smile, his hand still resting on her shoulder. “I’ll always be here for you. You know that, right?”

She nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over her, and maybe something else. “Yeah. I do.”

After another long moment of silence, Logan shifted, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You should get some sleep.”

She nodded. “You’re right. I got school tomorrow.”

Logan stood up and offered her a hand, helping her up from the couch. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Y/N smiled, feeling a little lighter. “You need to rest too, you know.”

Logan chuckled softly. “I will. But I’m not the one who just went through a rollercoaster of a night.”

Y/N gave him a grateful look as they walked toward their rooms. “Night, Logan. And… thanks again.”

Logan stopped at his door and gave her a soft smile. “See you tomorrow.”

With that, they each retreated to their rooms, leaving the quiet of the apartment to settle around them once more. But this time, the silence felt a little more peaceful, a little more comforting.

XXX

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lesbianphan · 9 months ago

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The Myth of Sisyphus and PHILosophy (lol) - a brief essay on two nerds playing a game that might not be that deep but hey who's gonna stop me from pushing this boulder up the hill of writing this?

Disclaimer: it's finally my turn to use my useless degree that included a lot of literary analysis for something extremely important to society: analyzing Dan and Phil content!!! yay!!! This is about to be incredibly nerdy and waffly, but like what else are you doing with your time anyway on phannie tumblr?? (pls read it, I just reread Camus for this for the first time in years okay I'm dedicated to my craft)

"The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy." Albert Camus

As a part of Camus' essays on absurdist philosophy, The Myth of Sisyphus deals with the pointlessness of existence, through retelling the story of the greek myth about the titular character who, as a punishment for defying Death, was condemned to spend eternity pushing a boulder up a hill just to watch it fall back down. That may sound bleak, such is the futile nature of getting up every day and doing tasks, after all.

However, that's not really what the essay conveys. As the quotation provided in the beginning shows, Camus' takeaway about the myth of Sisyphus isn't about how easy it would be to take the option of not engaging at all with the repetitive tasks that make life what it is, or even focusing on how disappointing this pointlessness is. It's about how the journey of getting up everyday and motivating yourself to hit the peak of the hill is all there is to life, really. The absurd conclusion is, ultimately, that pushing the boulder up the hill everyday is what true revolt against the senselessness of the universe is. If there is no reason, we make the reason by climbing up with our rock everyday.

We choose to be happy every day and appreciate our rock, our hill, our existence as a whole. We choose to believe Sisyphus is happy, and, as disappointing at it may sound at first, it's worth it to live your existence, as long as you decide to appreciate your present more than your future (the destination, that elusive peak of the hill).

In Dan's words, you decide to have "just one good night" together every night on tour, you appreciate the journey of climbing out of that mental health hole again. You climb up that hill again and again, because it's worth it, and there are things - bigger than yourself or your personal boulder or even your destination, - that are worth fighting for every day. You embrace the void, and have the courage to exist today, not tomorrow atop the hill.

As Camus' Myth of Sisyphus was, admitedly, one of the inspirations behind We're All Doomed (and it shows!), it makes it even more intriguing to inquire about how much of their reactions to that particular game about Sisyphus informs their perspectives on the world and their personal philosophies.

As a disclaimer, I must add: I don't claim to know Dan and Phil personally, and I only have acess to the parts of them they decide to share, the performing side of them. So, quite obviously, I can be fully off the mark on this one. Still I think it's interesting to dive into, if not for accuracy, at least for better understanding of the personas they portray online, and how their worldviews bleed into it.

The first big point a lot of people brought to the table is the shift in Dan's philosophy ever since writing and performing We're All Doomed and (most likely) a lot of therapy and work on himself over the years. Gone are the days of existential crises being treated as a joke, or mental health in general being discussed without care for what the audience may take from it. During the video, it's quite apparent that he tries very hard to mantain that voice of reason (sometimes breaking it out of frustration, which is fair!), to somehow guide us into an understanding of what this philosophy means to him personally and to his self-proclaimed magum opus WAD.

This is relevant, of course, insofar as this becomes the thesis of the video, silly gameplay and jokes aside. So I couldn't not mention it here, as it's extremely noticeable and commendable of him to now have a different kind of perspective towards the topic of mental health, in this more mature era of their content. You can tell it's relevant to him to try to get the point of the myth across, in a way that tells his audience, as much as it tells himself, that giving up isn't a choice. You must keep pushing that boulder and you must believe that Sisyphus is happy, and so will you be during that journey up the hill. Even when it falls down again and you meet frustration, you pick yourself back up and keep trying to enjoy the present once again.

Secondly, regarding Dan's behavior during the gameplay, it's notable that he gets extremely frustrated when the boulder falls down (who wouldn't?). However, he always tries to catch it and put it back in the path upwards, instead of throwing his hands and giving up like Phil seems to do. This shows, very loosely, how he handles frustration in his own life: trying to fix things and get them right on path again. It's sometimes the most difficult choice to make, but it's extremely corageous to just keep trying in face of extreme frustration. We've seen it all over gaming videos, but also on his own personal projects getting shut down, and Dan still insisting on carrying on creating things that are personal to him, even in face of rejection.

Phil, however, seemed to give up out of frustration extremely easily, so much so that Dan kept pointing it out how he'd let go of the controls and let it happen. It might not mean much, but since he himself claims he gives up on things that are too difficult, it might just be an aspect of his personality to literally let go in face of things he perceives as impossible to achieve.

It is also notable that when he made a mistake, no matter how competitive they usually are on the surface, Phil decided to ask Dan for help, or try to tag out entirely and hand it over. This may not only be related to frustration, but also to knowing how to ask for help, and also a belief that Dan is "the strongest one out of both of us" and he will be there always to help (quite adorable). Dan's tenacity in front of difficult situations is a great complement to Phil's anxious eagerness to hand over the controls when things get overwhelming.

It's interesting to point out how their personal worldview influenced their gameplay as well. Dan was focused, sharp, driven to get to the top of the mountain by keeping in complete control of the boulder at all times. He held on tight to the challenges and kept going, and he wasn't afraid to run back and catch himself enough to try again. Phil's style showed something very interesting about him that is notable in gaming videos in particular: Phil's propensity for making little goals and celebrating the little things in the path to a goal.

Getting through one obstacle that was once difficult is enough to make Phil seem content with his progress. He celebrates every little step of the journey and, in that way, it's easier for him to appreciate it naturally. He's focused on the little tasks more than the big picture, and that makes the experience more enjoyable. His goals shift, of course, as they progress through the level, and the difficulty ramps up. Even so, he's still more likely to point out that's the farthest they've gotten and, hey look at this ramp, let's get through this ramp and then we've won, because that's my goal right now, and that's enough to make me happy in the present.

This counterbalances Dan's more bleak outlook wonderfully as well. While Dan is focused on making it to the top of the hill, and gets extremely discouraged seeing there's a lot more ahead they'll never get to experience, Phil's view is that they got through that one challenge and, surely, next time they'll get through one more, and so on and so forth. Focusing on smaller things is, ultimately, a good way of finding happiness in the process of pushing up that boulder.

Moreover, Phil's brief comment about how you could "make up little stories in your head" is also extremely telling of the kind of person he is. As Camus' philosophy claims: the only way to live with an absurd world is by living through it and learning what it means to be happy in a world that doesn't make sense. In Phil's mind, a bearable way to get through the harrowing experience of every day existence is making up stories, which matches up with his creative mind. Art and creation are indeed things that can make life worth living, and it seems that even subconsciously, that's the path he'd choose against the pointlessness of repetition. The joy of creation is, certainly, and extremely human and beautiful way to find meaning in life.

The most interesting point I'd like to raise, though, is how they got through that game together: as much as Dan accused Phil of distracting him, it was interesting to see that he didn't notice that's entirely the point. The boulder falling down is nothing compared to the stories we share, the conversations we make. What is important is the journey you take, and hearing about your best friend's weird school inter-sports anecdotes, even if you have to start over because you got distracted.

And that's entirely the point I'd like to leave this of with: pushing up that boulder is only worth it if you learn to live, if you learn to love, if you learn to enjoy the present moment, instead of focusing on that ever elusive destination. Therefore, what makes not only the video interesting, but also the game bearable at all, is their interaction with each other. Much like in life as partners, Dan and Phil would, obviously, climb that hill together. They would find the joy in the little moments together, laugh, yell, get frustrated, pick each other back up again in moments of frustration, and keep going up that hill together.

The only way to live is if one imagines Sisyphus happy. The only way to exist is if you decide that, no matter what, you'll create your own meaning. The only way is to find joy in the now instead of later. The only way to make those grueling day to day tasks happy and fun, is by choosing hapiness. Dan and Phil have, in every sense, decided to keep climbing up that hill of existence together. It may be slow and clumsy and loud at times, but it's their own experience. Ultimately, the only way to experience that gaming content is by imagining Dan and Phil are happy to make it for us, and that we can all share a little bit of our hill in moments of laughter and community. That's what makes life worth it in the end.

A/N: this may be the weirdest thing I've ever done, pls accept me for who I am, thank!

#amanda yaps #dan and phil #dnp #phan #sisyphus #idk what to tag this lmaooo #essay #phanalysis #lmao send help #here it is the craziest shit I've ever done #maybe not but like at least top 5 I fear

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didyoulookforme · 9 days ago

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1 and 29 for bf matty?? :) he’s so precious to me

from the prompt list here.

warning: smut. masturbation. a bit of spit involved. cumplay. me rambling.

so this is about a week after you both admit you like each other and finally talk it out. you agree it’d be stupid not to try, when it’s now so obvious you both want this. but you ask matty if you can wait on the sex—everything else is fair game, and god, you want to, so badly, because hello, gorgeous man you’ve been dying to get your hands on is finally yours—but you just want to hold off on getting his dick inside you. just in case. on the minuscule off chance it doesn’t work out. he obviously agrees, because at this point, he’d do anything for you. now that the love of his life is actually interested in him.

anyway, even though you’ve known each other for almost half your lives, this is all so new and exciting that neither of you can hide it. you feel like two horny teenagers again that get needy with just a single touch. when he came over tonight, it didn’t take long for the two of you to end up making out, hands all over, both lightheaded because neither of you want to waste time breathing when you could have your tongues in each other’s mouths instead. and you silently agree. that’s a much better use of your time.

you’re both so eager to learn everything about each other, and that’s why, between him licking and biting your bottom lip, you so sweetly ask if you can watch him jerk off. he freezes, finally inhaling for what feels like the first time since he arrived, before resting his forehead against yours, a grin very clearly appearing on his face. he nods, his voice barely above a whisper, but you can still hear the intrigue behind it. “‘f course, darling.”

and this is why the both of you end up on your bed again—matty seated against your headboard, his yo la tengo shirt the only thing left on his body. one leg stretched out in front of him, the other slightly bent as he gets himself off right in front of you, just like you asked. his head shifts from resting against the wall to tilting down to watch himself, and even that alone drives you absolutely mad.

“you’re so fucking hot, baby.”

he can’t help but gaze at you and smile at your words as he continues to stroke himself, not slow but not so fast either. you notice how his right hand slightly twists as he pumps the top half of his dick, every now and then using his thumb to collect some of the translucent precum for ease. his left hand either rests on his stomach, holding his shirt up, or stays loosely wrapped around the base of his length, keeping himself in place. it’s the most mesmerizing thing you think you’ve ever seen and really hope it’s not the last time this will happen.

“i’ve never done this before, y’know.”

his words shatter whatever trance you were under, and you swear your heart, mind, and body could split in half right then and there. because you both have obviously slept with other people before, never in your wildest fucking dreams did you think matty would be doing something for the first time with you. and now your mind is sprinting, running through every possibility, every other first you could be for him. but you do your best to drag your thoughts back to the present, because he's breaking apart right in front of you, and you need to watch every second of it.

once you get your head back on right—oh fuck, and now his hips are moving in time with his hand—you want nothing more than to be the reason he comes undone. so you hold your hair back, lean forward until your mouth is hovering over his tip, and look up at him through your eyelashes, asking if you can.

he barely gets out a “yes, baby” before you spit on him, pulling back just in time to watch matty’s face twist in pleasure as he uses it to stroke himself, faster now, messier. the sounds he’s making are fucking obscene, and you’re burning every single one into your brain, locking them away so you can replay them at a later date when it’s just you and your hand.

it’s just a few minutes more before you notice his hand lift up his shirt a bit higher because you know he’s close. confirmed seconds later by the way he keeps whispering that he’s coming, over and over again. you watch as his cum spills over his hand, making a warm, sticky mess of it. you take note of how he keeps his grip around himself even after he's done, even after he’s gone soft in his own hand. his face is slick with a thin layer of sweat, curls sticking to his forehead as he tries to steady his breathing. he’s so fucking pretty like this—your wrecked, ruined boy.

you shift up slowly, kneeling beside him, fingers cupping his face as you brush damp curls back from his forehead. then you finally kiss him again, swallowing the tiny, whimpers slipping from his mouth in the aftermath. when you pull back, your gaze flickers down to his hand, to his sticky, shaky fingers, and you don’t even realize you’re licking your lips until he laughs, breathless and dazed. he lifts his hand, bringing it to your face, and you can’t look away, your breath catching as he presses his thumb against your bottom lip, silently asking for permission.

so you part your lips, tongue sliding over the pad of his thumb before sucking it deeper into your mouth without hesitation. his whole body shudders at the feeling, and you grin around his finger when he moans at the fact that you’re eagerly and happily licking his cum off his hand.

"i don’t even know what i’m doing right now." matty barely gets the words out, aimed more at himself than you. because you know damn well that this is almost too much for him. he’s overwhelmed. fuck, you are too but in the best way possible. it’s like you’re floating outside your own body, just watching this unfold, completely stunned that it’s real. that it’s you—your mouth, your hands, your body—doing this to him after all these years. and honestly? you couldn’t feel luckier <3

#still making my way through the prompts #slowly but surely #this one is very self indulgent lol #thank you for humoring me #prompt asks #anon asks #bf matty asks #bf matty

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saturnville · 1 year ago

Text

40 days n 40 nights.

pairing; shuri udaku x black!fem!reader (kalila)

warning; toxicity. language. emotional manipulation. allusions to smut. descriptions of smut 18+ content.

reference; 40 days n 40 nights — mariah the scientist, vory

overview; in which two exes reunite briefly after ending their toxic relationship.

tags (people who recently interacted with my shuri fics): @neeville @pocketsizedpanther @l-o-v-e-galore @cosmic-parker

Toxicity used to be as foreign concept. At one point, healthy was all she knew. Open, honest, respectful communication and treatment from her partner to herself. It was easily acceptable. It was what she needed to thrive; it was what she required.

Kalila felt like a fool when she lowered the walls that guarded her soft heart. The sweet nothings and gentle kisses that the lips of the Queen shared, altered her brain chemistry in a way she couldn’t explain.

No longer was she headstrong and adamant about what she deserved. She didn’t stand on business. No, she was weak in the knees for the Queen, the Panther, for her. Whatever to keep her majesty satisfied, she was prepared to give it all.

Naivety was her downfall.

What she failed to understand, was that the deep desire to please her at any cause, stripped her of her dignity, honor, and self-respect. Subject to mistreatment as a result, Kalila’s eyes began to open. The rose-colored glasses fell and reality sunk in. Her loyalty was taken advantage of. Her kindness was laughed at. The love she gave was not enough. She was not enough. She came to be nothing but a body to keep the bed warm while the Queen did what a Queen had the pleasure of doing; whatever she wanted.

It took months to build the courage to end the relationship. How easy could it be to remove oneself from the most intense union they’d found themselves in? The one where while the pros were numerous, the cons extended themselves past the acceptable limit.

The worst part was; she didn’t care. She had no interest in fighting to keep her, working to change. Kalila’s world crumbled. Her heart tore in two, her lungs constricted, and her mind fogged. Suddenly, substances were her lover and they fucked her good; to the point where she’d be in an orgasmic haze from the strategic stroking of her brain.

She mentally smacked herself each time she thought or her. The Queen, the Panther, Shuri. The best and worst thing to ever happen to her. Kalila wondered what she was up to. Probably living her life; on a flight to a new country where she’d serenade a woman into being her lover for the night before retreating the following morning, intrigued when the women followed her like a lost child. Kalila knew it all too well—it was once her.

The room spun. Substances and lack of sleep were a deadly combination. Kalila shook her head. 40 days and 40 nights of endless bullshit. All she had to do was let go. Could it be so hard?

Her music paused briefly at the indication of a text.

S. Udaku. Open the door.

Apparently so.

Kalila’s knees were weak as she stood in front of her. Her knees were weak, her heart pounding, and her most intimate parts jolted at the sight of her. She looked much different than she had a year ago. Her curls were much shorter—she’d cut them—now small tendrils on her head. She retired her tracksuit for a black suit with accompanying loafers. Kalila glanced at the wall clock. It was 9:41pm. Where’d she come from?

Shuri stepped into the apartment with an indescribable dominance that shifted the atmosphere. She was taller in stature, so her neck was lowered to glare into the eyes of Kalila. Both sets of brown eyes were deep and rich, but told different stories.

“What are you doing here?” Kalila’s voice was slow. The door closed behind her and and Kalila’s eyes followed Shuri as she stood in the middle of her apartment. Her long arms were crossed just underneath her belt, and her rings shone under the dim lights.

“Why’d you let me in?” Was the Queen’s response.

Because I missed you. Kalila’s eyes told it all before her mouth did. Shuri gave a humored chuckle, but the stoic look on her face didn’t change. Tight-lipped and unamused.

“Why are you here?” Kalila pressed once more. Shuri was now on the couch. Her long fingers flipped through the magazine on the coffee table. Essence. Then, they ghosted over the lit candle aside it. She didn’t flinch when the flame kissed her fingertips. Slowly, she leaned back against the couch, arm thrown over the back.

Shuri shrugged. “Was in the area. Wanted to say hello. Sit.” As if she was trained, Kalila sat beside her. This was what she wanted; to be next to her, in her presence once again. Why act shy now?

“I see you’re doing well. Business flourishing and all.”Kalila’s eyes snapped up. She started a marketing and consulting agency shortly after her college graduation. It was a rocky start, and Shuri had been there to connect her to the best in the business to assist in its development. Little did Kalila know, her efforts never ceased even once they split.

Kalila, however, was confused as to how she knew the way she was flourishing. At least on the outside. Then she had to remember, Shuri had every resource at her fingertips. Hell, she probably had someone keeping tabs on her at one point. She chose not to think about it further.

“Yeah, things are well.” Her answer was short. “Can you just…why are you here, Udaku? We are--there is no us anymore. You made it clear what you wanted five months ago, and it wasn't me. So, why are you here?" Her voice shook as she spoke, but she spoke with intention.

Shuri's chin raised and her eyebrow quipped. "I had a revelation. You didn't deserve what I put you through, and I'm aware of that. So, simply here to take accountability. That's it."

It was Kalila's turn to raise her eyebrow. It seemed too good to be true. Shuri sighed deeply and turned to face Kalila, whose distrust was written on her face.

"Do you trust me?" Shuri asked. Kalila's response was delayed. Did she? To protect her life, sure. But to protect and honor her emotions, her mental wellbeing, her heart? No, no she didn't.

"In some ways, yes. In others, no. And that's not my fault. It's yours/"

Ouch. Shuri nodded once. "Okay. Let me make it up to you." Those words were dangerous. They were the entryway back into the world of Shuri Udaku, and she wondered if she'd be able to take it.

Kalila spent time contemplating, and it did not go unseen by Shuri. So, the Queen asked her, "What are you thinking about?"

"How I don't want to be hurt by you again."

"I love you too much to hurt you again."

"That's what you said last time."

Silence.

"Let me prove it to you, yeah?" Her slender fingers danced across the roundness of Kalila's face. Fingertips grazed her lips until they fell down her neck. She gave it a soft squeeze. Kalila's eyes fluttered and she leaned into Shrui's body. Shuri took it as an opportunity to graze her lips over Kalila's, whose fell slack and a quiet whimper fell from them. Exactly where she wanted her.

Soon, clothes decorated the floor and their songs of pleasure were on repeat. High and low shifts in pitch and octave. Whistle register with voice cracks when it became too much. Sweaty bodies slipped and slid against one another. A glorious event.

"I love you," the Queen whispered breathlessly in Kalila's ear as she brought her to the edge. "I love you, I love you...it's just us. Always."

If only she stayed true to her word. Kalila woke up by herself. Every remainder of Shuri was eradicated. The only trace of her was the scent of her perfume; strong and dominant, just like her.

Her phone buzzed against the coffee table.

S. Udaku. I'll see you soon.

She knew what that meant. She'd return when she felt like it. That could be days or weeks. Kalila's eyes welled with tears. Another 40 days and 40 nights were wasted, just to start the process all over again.

#saturnville #original writing #original content #original story #black!reader #black love #fic inspo #black reader #queen shuri #shuri udaku #princess shuri #shuri x reader #black panther #shuri x afab!reader #shuri x woc!reader #shuri x black!reader #fic inspired by a song #fic inspired by music #40 days and 40 nights by saturnville

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orchidniins · 9 months ago

Text

Opening Act | Track 1 | Arthur Hill

Pairing: Arthur Hill x f!Reader Warnings: Fluff Word count: 2.2k+ A/N: Yayy my first series! I still don't know how I feel about this series though and I'm still trying to figure out the best flow for this series. Hope you enjoy!!

Series Masterlist ⟡ Track 2

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Arthur’s POV

Arthur stood backstage, tucked away out of view as he watched you take the stage. The energy in the venue shifted as soon as you stepped into the spotlight. Despite having performed on stage before, this was your first time in front of a crowd this big, your first show opening for him. He could sense your nerves, just by the way you were slightly shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you stood in front of the mic, awaiting your cue.

The intro of your song started to fill the air. It was THE song. The one that had sent a flurry of mixed feelings rushing through his head. The song that had forever changed the friendship you two had. The friendship that he was so scared of losing. And now, as he listened to the audience scream along to every word, it felt more real than ever. He knew he had to talk to you about it, the two of you had to figure it out, even if you were avoiding him right now.

He did, however, feel a swell of pride knowing just how hard you had worked for this moment. But in the back of his mind, he couldn't shake that feeling of guilt nagging at him, the fact that he had almost messed all this up for you.

He couldn't pinpoint exactly when or how it all happened. Everything was great in the start, absolutely perfect, before he managed to royally fuck it all up.

Now, he just wanted things to go back to the way they were, back to simpler times. He couldn't help but think back to the first time he had met you.

———-⋆✧⋆———-

Arthur was in his room, just another Wednesday night.

He had spent most of the day in the studio, working on new music with his producer, and had just gotten back home from his session.

He was now settled into his desk chair, the soft glow of his computer screen illuminating the dimly lit room while music played in the background. As his playlist cycled through various tracks, one song in particular grabbed his attention.

It was your song.

Arthur couldn't help but feel a soft smile spread across his face as he listened to your music. There was something about your music that seemed to draw him in. He was impressed with your songwriting and absolutely swooned at your voice. Your voice…it was like honey to his ears, buttery smooth, yet so unique at the same time.

He had stumbled upon your music completely by accident, finding your account on TikTok, but from the moment he heard your music, he was hooked. Despite your relatively small original discography, he found himself spending hours scrolling through your TikTok feed, watching your videos and song covers. There was something in your lyrics that spoke to him on a deeper level.

With a sigh, Arthur picked up his phone, instinctively opening your profile. As he scrolled through your feed, he couldn't help but admire your talent. He found it surprising that you weren’t more popular than you were.

As one of your TikTok’s comes up on the screen, he starts to wonder…what kind of person you were? You hadn’t given away much about your private life other than the fact that you also lived in London, leaving him quite intrigued. Would you be fun to chat with? Were you interesting? Would you find him interesting?

Before he let himself fall into a web of what-ifs, he quickly decided that he needed to distract himself. Without further hesitation, he started a live stream on his TikTok.

He moved from his place at his desk and settled comfortably into his bed, tweeting about it before starting his stream. The chat started filling up quickly as people joined, the stream buzzing with questions and comments from his viewers. Reading them aloud, he started to respond to as many as he could.

'Hey Arthur, who's your favorite roommate?' one comment read, prompting a chuckle from Arthur. 'Anyone but Chris, he’s just a mean little man,' he quipped jokingly. After a moment's pause, he leaned closer to the camera, whispering, 'George… but technically he’s actually my boyfriend,' he said between laughs, before shaking his head and adding, 'No…It's pretty fun living with all the boys though, they're all my favorite.'

'When are you going on tour?' another viewer asked, and Arthur's smile widened. 'Soon, hopefully! We're planning a few shows for the upcoming album,' he shared eagerly, his excitement palpable. 'Right now I want to focus on the new album though—there's gonna be some really good stuff,' he added, sounding enthusiastic.

But it was when someone asked, "What's your favorite song at the moment?" that Arthur's expression softened. "You know, there's this one song I've been listening to on repeat lately called 'Honey'," he began, a small smile lingering on his lips. "It's by an artist called Y/N, and let me tell you, her music is honestly banging. I wish she had more songs," he added, genuine admiration evident in his voice.

At the mention of your name, Arthur's chat explodes with a mix of comments about you. ‘Oh, I love her music’, ‘I've seen her TikToks, she seems like such a sweetheart’, ‘Underrated queen!’, ‘Who's that?’, ‘Her music's kind of boring’, ‘She's really talented!’, ‘She’s so pretty!’, ‘She’s fit’, ‘I can't stop listening to her latest song!’, ‘I haven't heard of her before’, ‘I'll have to check her out, but I'm not convinced yet’

Arthur reads through the comments, laughing at a few of them and ignoring the mean-spirited ones, then says, "Yeah, I follow her on TikTok," his smile genuine. "She seems really cool." With a quick glance back at the comments, he resumes answering more questions until a certain username catches his eye—the last person he expected to see on his live stream.

———-⋆✧⋆———-

Y/N POV

You were in your room, just another Wednesday night.

You sit cross-legged on your bed, strumming your guitar absentmindedly, the soft sound of the chords filling the room with a gentle hum. A candle flickered on your nightstand, casting a warm glow on the walls as you try to get the melody stuck in your head out onto paper. But writer's block had other plans, and with a frustrated groan, you continued to strum, hoping for inspiration to strike.

You spend a few more minutes before setting your guitar aside with a resigned sigh, giving up on writing for the day. Instead, you reach for your phone, pulling up TikTok and scrolling through.

For the next few minutes, you read and respond to comments on your most recent TikTok. As a budding musician, you had started out by posting covers on Instagram and TikTok. Only recently did you decide to take the plunge into songwriting and put out your own material, something that you had always dreamed of.

Despite the challenges, you absolutely loved the few songs you had put out so far, extremely proud of each and every one of them. And over time, you had garnered a small but dedicated fanbase, who were your biggest supporters.

You shift your focus to your laptop for a bit, tossing your phone to your side as you go through some emails. You sit in the quiet for a moment, the only sound being the clicking for your keyboard, before your phone starts buzzing incessantly with notifications.

Confused, you retrieved your phone and see a flurry of TikTok notifications flooding your screen. What you thought would just be another ordinary night had suddenly taken an unexpected turn.

Your brows furrowed as you opened up the app, greeted by a stream of messages from your followers, ‘OMG, Arthur Hill just mentioned you on his live!’, ‘Arthur Hill just talked about you on his live!’, ‘Arthur Hill follows you?! That's amazing!’, ‘You should join Arthur on his live!’

Curious about who he was, you quickly searched for Arthur Hill’s TikTok profile. His impressive follower count left you momentarily awestruck.

You notice that he was currently live, and without hesitation, you click onto his live stream. There’s a nervous drop in your gut as you wait to connect to the stream.

Almost instantly, you notice Arthur's gaze zeroing in on the comment section and you swear you see a flicker of surprise on his face. And before you can even fully comprehend what’s happening, you hear Arthur speak up, "Wait, I think Y/n just joined this live. No way!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine surprise and excitement.

You start to feel nervous. Did Arthur really know who you were? And did he actually like you content enough to mention you by name on his stream, which, you might add, had more viewers on it than you had followers. This complete stranger of a man looked genuinely happy just because you joined his stream, and you found yourself slightly giggling at the fact.

The chat erupted with comments, ‘Y/N's here!’, ‘Arthur noticed her!’, ‘OMG, Y/N joined!’, among others, as viewers reacted to your presence.

You focus on reading some of the comments, before you hear Arthur chime up again. “Do you want to join the live, Y/N?" he asks eagerly. He shakily clears his throat as he scans the comments for your response. The chat erupts with encouragement, 'Oh my gosh, Y/N, join!', 'Yes Y/N join!!', 'Yes, yes, yes, please!'

Your breath catches in your throat as the comments flood in, urging you to join. Feeling a sudden rush of nerves, you hesitate. You could make out just from watching him for the few minutes on his live that he seemed like a good person, and he was probably just being kind. And you definitely didn't want to come across as if you were chasing clout. Besides, you were slightly embarrassed that you’d never heard of him before. You quickly type out a comment saying, ‘Thanks for asking, Arthur. But I don’t want to intrude!’

Arthur’s reply comes almost instantly, ‘Hey, no worries at all! It would be awesome to have you join, but it’s totally cool if you prefer to hang back and you absolutely would not be intruding.’ His genuine tone puts you at ease, and the comments are also encouraging. You couldn’t deny that he was charming, and you found yourself feeling persuaded just by this response. Most of his fans also seemed excited to have you join the live, and you felt yourself becoming comfortable enough to speak with him.

With a deep breath, you made your decision. ‘Yes! I’d love to join,’ you replied. Arthur face beams with a wide smile. You start to feel even more nervous as Arthur announces it on his live, "Y/N's joining!" before sending you the request to join the live.

As the invite pops up, you quickly spring up from your bed, giving yourself a once-over to ensure your appearance was acceptable. With your heart still pounding, you accept the invitation, your face appearing on the screen beside his.

"Hey, Arthur!" you greeted, your voice bubbling with a mix of excitement and nervousness. "Thanks for listening to my music. It really means a lot."

Arthur's smile widened at your words. "Of course, Y/N! Your music is amazing. I have your songs on repeat.”

You couldn't help but blush at his compliments. "Honestly, I’m a bit embarrassed that I haven’t listened to your music before," you admit sheepishly.

But Arthur waves off your concerns with a laugh. "Hahah, Don't worry about it!" You couldn’t help but smile at the way his face crinkled when he laughed.

The two of you hit it off instantly, chatting and laughing as if you'd known each other for years. Arthur's charm was undeniable, and you found yourself hanging onto his every word as the conversation flowed effortlessly. The fans and viewers on the live commenting about how unmistakable the chemistry was between you two, their messages flooding the chat as you spoke like you were the only ones there. Despite this being the first time you’d met, you found yourselves getting along really well.

You couldn’t help but be struck by how great he seemed—smart, funny, witty—and you felt incredibly comfortable speaking with him, all your nervousness melting away. As you observed him, you sensed that the two of you could actually be friends. You didn’t have a whole lot of friends in the music industry, and the more you guys spoke about music and work, sharing your stories with each other and answering questions on the stream, the more you realized how much you had in common.

After a few more minutes of conversation, you decide to call it a night and bid him goodbye, allowing him to get back to interacting with his viewers. As the live stream came to an end, you couldn't shake the feeling of exhilaration coursing through your veins.

Unable to sleep, you spent the rest of the night immersed in Arthur's music, wondering why you hadn't listened to it before. As you lay there, scrolling through your phone, a notification pops up: Arthur Hill started following you on Instagram.

You find yourself smiling at the notification before quickly following him back. It had become harder to make new friends after uni, and for the first time in a while, you were excited to see where this new friendship would lead you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: This first part is a little short, just to kick the series off. But I promise the rest will be a lot longer. Let me know what you think!

Check out my other fics and oneshots here. Not working on any new requests currently but feel free to drop into my asks for a chat! 😊

#arthur hill #arthur hill x reader #arthur hill fluff #arthur hill angst #fluff #angst #imagine #fiction #arthur hill imagine #Arthur hill fic #chaos crew #youtube #arthurtv #george clarke #chrismd

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hockey-fics · 1 year ago

Text

Something About Red Wine - Jack Hughes

"There’s just something about red wine. Something about red wine that makes you want to spill every secret you’ve worked so hard to keep."

Word Count: ~2,500

Warnings: drinking, language, smut.

You couldn’t be mad at Anna for introducing you to Jack. But perhaps you could be mad that she hadn’t warned you about what to expect. Because Jack was charming, he was funny, he was intriguing, and he was attractive beyond your wildest expectations.

You fell for him…hard. Harder than you had ever fallen for anyone before. He was intoxicating, his presence drawing you in. Too long without him left you longing for more.

You were just friends, but your mind and body wanted so much more than just that. When you were with Jack your heart rate would race just a little faster. Your cheeks would redden just a little easier. Your lips would linger in a smile just a little longer.

If you knew that Jack was going to be at a social event you were all the more eager to go. Extra care and time went into making sure you looked your best around him. You felt guilty for the way your body would fill with burning, hot jealousy when someone would flirt with him on a night out.

Jack had asked you to come with him to a dinner party. It was a cold Friday night in January and Jack picked you up from your apartment, his car warm and inviting. His music was loud and he turns it down the second you get in, so your voice could carry easily through the car.

“Hey,” you greet with a cheerful tone, pulling your seatbelt across your body.

“Hey,” Jack replies, not putting his car back into drive, his eyes locked on you. “You look nice.”

You were certain his words would tinge your cheeks with redness. So you look away from him, out the front window, where a few snowflakes were beginning to fall from the sky and settle on the windshield. “Thanks,” you reply, though your words fall flat and quiet. “We should get going, we’re going to be late.”

“Right,” Jack comments, his eyes glancing at the clock. You weren’t going to be late. Of course, he knew that you knew your statement wasn’t true. But he doesn’t say anything about it, simply shifting the car into drive and pulling out of your apartment’s parking lot.

Dinner slips by quickly, lively conversation over plates of food and glasses of wine. You find yourself gravitating closer and closer to Jack with each passing hour, with each glass of wine. His arm would fall onto the back of your chair and you would force yourself not to notice, not to let him know how fast it made your heart race. You would find ways to brush your hand against his, pretending that it was accidental.

By the time you were heading out the door that evening you were longing for nothing more than just a little more time with Jack. Just Jack. So when he invites you back to your apartment you agree easily.

“Do you want a drink?” Jack asks, pulling a beer from the fridge for himself. “There’s still some of that wine you left here last time.”

“The red wine?” you ask, leaning back, fingers curling around the cool edge of the countertop behind you.

“Yeah, I think it’s red.” Jack shrugs before spinning around, pulling it out of the cupboard. “It’s looks pretty red.”

Giggling you walk over, taking it from his hands and pouring yourself a glass. Bringing it to your lips you take a quick sip, the familiar flavour washing over your body, filling your mind with memories of all the hazy nights after a few too many glasses.

“Was I your date tonight?” you tease, your lips curling into a soft smile.

Jack chuckles, taking a swig of the cold beer. “Well I needed to bring someone, everyone else had a date.”

“Don’t try to tell me that you, of all people, couldn’t find a date for a dinner party?”

“Didn’t really try,” Jack admits with a casual shrug. “Don’t think it would have been as fun without you anyway.”

Glancing down at your glass you nod slowly. “I’m flattered,” you tease, looking back across the kitchen at Jack, your lips in a teasing smile. “Glad I can be of entertainment to you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jack grumbles with a chuckle. “Do you want to go watch a movie?”

“Sure,” you breathe out, letting Jack guide you into his living room. Settling down on the couch you watch Jack turn the TV on, watch him scroll through a handful of movies before settling on one that you had never heard of before. It begins playing, filling the room with a loud roar of a soundtrack you were unfamiliar with. It’s doesn’t take long into the movie before your mind is wandering beyond the confines of the tv screen.

There’s just something about red wine. Something about red wine that makes you want to spill every secret you’ve worked so hard to keep. Something about red wine that made you feel like there simply wouldn’t be any consequences to the things you said.

Swirling the dark red liquid around in your glass you watch the way the wine clings to the sides of the glass. Your eyes focus on the wine legs, watching the droplets sink back down into the liquid. Lifting your eyes away from the glass you stare over at Jack, focusing on his profile as he watches the movie playing on his TV.

You had agreed to a movie, but you had known your attention wouldn't remain on it for long. Tipsy thoughts were trailing into the recesses of your mind that you didn’t often explore. Uncovering desires you had only ever wanted to give fleeting attention to in the past. But now, under the warm blanket of a few glasses of red wine, you didn’t stop yourself from thinking them through in detail. Letting yourself explore the feelings that sober you tried not to fret over.

Your mind was so preoccupied that you hadn’t realized how long you had been staring at Jack. Not until he looks over at you, an amused smile spreading on his face. “What?” Jack asks, eyebrows furrowing.

“Nothing,” you whisper, shaking your head. Lifting your glass to your lips you tip it back, letting more of the velvety wine spill over your tongue. You don’t peel your eyes away from Jack, not even when you know that the sober version of you would have.

Jack clears his throat, shifting his body under your gaze. “Are you sure?”

“Mhm,” you hum, twisting the stem of your wine glass between your fingers. “How’s the movie?”

Jack’s lips part to answer before pausing, shaking his head so subtly you might have missed it if you hadn’t been so focused on him. “You haven’t been watching it?” It’s a question, but he says it like a statement, knowing the answer without you needing to tell him.

“No, not really,” you tell him easily, words pouring from your lips with no hesitation. “How is it?”

Jack’s eyes slide from you to the screen before returning to you, an amused smile on his lips. “You could watch it and find out.”

You give him a subtle shrug and a shake of your head. “Doesn’t seem interesting.”

“No?” Jack asks with a breath of laughter. “Is staring at me more interesting then?”

“It’s not…uninteresting.” Shifting slightly you turn to face Jack bringing your legs up onto the couch, one tucked underneath you, the other pulled to your chest. Running your hand along your leg you let it rest on your thigh, leaning into the couch beside you.

“Do you wanna do something else?”

“Like what?” you ask, taking another sip of your wine, your eyes locked with his as you do so.

Jack swallows heavily, sitting up straighter. “I don’t know. You’re the one who can’t watch a movie.”

“I can watch a movie,” you correct him. “You just picked a bad one.”

“Then you pick a movie for us to watch,” Jack offers, picking up the remote to hand to you.

Your eyes fall to the remote, making no movement to grab it. “Or we could just turn it off.”

Jack nods, pointing the remote to the tv, the screen fading to black without his eyes leaving you for even a moment. “What are you thinking about?”

Taking another sip of your wine you let the room fall into a comfortable, contemplative silence as you gaze around it. You pull a deep breath into your lungs, your fingers tapping against the side of your glass.

Finally, you turn your attention back to Jack, your eyes holding his gaze unwaveringly. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Jack is still and silent. He doesn’t react to your words, not verbally, not physically. He doesn’t so much as flinch in response to your statement. You knew that normally you would be riddled with worry after such a confession. But the buzz of red wine in your veins lulls you into a dangerous indifference. With each passing silent second, you begin to notice new things. The ticking of the clock on the wall. The hum of the furnace. The tag on your sweater that scratches your skin when you move.

You’re lifting your glass to take another sip of your wine when Jack slides across the couch, his hand wrapping around the glass and taking it from you. His body leans over you as he moves to set it on the table behind you. The glass clinks quietly on the table and when he pulls his arm back his fingers slide under your jaw, tipping your head back.

His lips brush against yours and you can feel his breath on your skin. Your hand comes to the back of his head, fingers tangling into his hair as you lean up to kiss him. It’s fast and frantic, eager and desperate. His tongue brushes against yours and you swear it feels like time stands still. When he pulls back, breathing heavy and unsteady, you find the hem of his shirt, fingers yanking it up to expose the bare skin of his abdomen. Jack leans back, pulling his shirt off in one swift movement. Your fingers trail up to his chest, sitting up further as your hands grasp at his shoulders. He takes the opportunity to pull your shirt off your body, tossing it to the floor. His hands cup your cheeks, pulling your lips to his again.

Jack slides his knee to rest on the couch between your legs and you instinctively rock your hips forward, the contact with his thigh bringing a shuddering breath and a quiet moan to your lips. Something in that moment flips a switch for Jack and he’s pulling back, frantic hands yanking your jeans off with clumsy, desperate movements. His fingers slide up your thigh to press against the fabric of your underwear. He presses a little harder, your hips squirming.

“Please,” you whimper, pleading eyes staring up at Jack.

He lets you have what you’re after, his finger slipping beneath the fabric of your underwear. It takes him a minute to find your clit but when he does he draws breathy moans from you as his fingers move in steady circles. Your back arches against his fingers, desperate and needy. His lips find your neck, trailing them down your skin. He pauses over your collarbones, grazing his teeth along it before stopping to stuck gently on the skin just above your bra.

You can feel the familiar build of pressure in your body, your legs tensing, fingers digging into Jack’s shoulders. Waves of hot pleasure rip through your body, legs shaking, loud moans filling the otherwise silent room. “Fuck, oh…fuck,” you breathe out, fingers clamping down around Jack’s wrist, your sensitive body flinching with every touch of his fingers.

Jack pulls you up, his hands quickly fumbling your bra off your body. His eyes fall to your chest, groaning quietly. Pressing your hands to his chest you push him back, fingers travelling down to the button of his jeans, shaky hands undoing the button and zipper. After a few futile yanks Jack takes over, pushing his jeans off quickly. You have his underwear off a second later, leaving them in the pile of clothes beside the couch. As you wrap your fingers around Jack’s cock you feel him slip his hand between your bodies, fingers sliding towards your entrance. He pushes his fingers inside you, slowly, gently and you inhale a sharp breath.

You’re not able to last much longer till you’re pulling Jack back down on top of you, guiding him inside you. He pulls your leg up around his hip, slamming himself into you. It was fast and hard and every thrust sends waves of pleasure through your body that makes your head spin. He has one hand on the back of the couch, the other pressed into the cushion beside you. His skin was hot against yours, sticky with sweat. Your fingers dig into his biceps, clutching onto him so tight as your body unravels below him, legs shaking, breath heaving and unsteady.

He pulls out of you, quickly and suddenly and a groan of disappointment leaves your lips. “Where do you-?” Jack begins, voice strained, a slight panic hidden somewhere in his tone.

Reaching over you take his cock in your hand, hand sliding up and down for only a minute more before his cum spills out over your body. It’s hot and sticky, covering your chest and torso. Jack looks down at you with a look you couldn’t recognize and for the first time you feel a twinge of panic deep inside you. What had you just done? You still didn’t know if he felt the same way. You had just let it happen, without thinking through what would be on the other end of it all.

Jack reaches over to the table behind him, pulling a handful of Kleenex from it. He brings the soft tissue to your skin, wiping himself from your body. He doesn’t say anything and neither do you. You don’t know what to say, even if you did want to say something. He finishes cleaning up, reaching over and taking your hands. Pulling you forward he lets you fumble your naked limbs over him, till you were laying with your sticky bodies pressed together, your head on his chest. His hand gently runs across your back, so different from the way his hands were on your body just minutes before.

Jack cranes his neck up to press his lips to your forehead before laying back on the couch, your head rising and falling with every breath that fills his lungs.

“I think I love you too,” Jack whispers.

#jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes imagines #nhl fanfic #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic

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jiyascepter · 1 year ago

Text

Embracing Radiance

Masterlist

Want to be added to my taglist? Here!

Pairing: Loki x gn! reader

Words: 1.1k +

Warning/Content: slight angst but mostly fluff, insecure reader, the reader undresses in front of Loki (but nothing really explicit activity happening), established relationship, no use of y/n | lmk if there is more

Synopsis: Loki becomes a source of strength and love for the reader who faces body-shaming at work. Through tender affirmations and intimate kisses, Loki proves that beauty is all about embracing their unique radiance.

A/N: Sooooo my first ever fanfiction! Please note that english isn't my first language so there is a possibility of some errors. Hope you all like this!

The evening sun cast a warm glow across the city, painting the buildings in hues of orange and pink. As the day came to a close, Loki lounged in the living room of the apartment he shared with you, awaiting your return. The door creaked open, and he looked up to see you enter, a weariness etched across your face.

"Darling, you're home," Loki greeted, rising from his seat with a gentle smile. He could sense something was amiss as he observed the way you carried yourself. Your shoulders slumped, and your eyes, once filled with spark, now seemed clouded with a burden. You offered a weak smile in return, kicking off your shoes and making your way towards the living room. Loki walked over to you, concern evident in his emerald eyes. "What troubles you, my love? You don't seem okay."

You sighed, a heavy exhale escaping your lips as you sank into the plush couch. Loki took a seat beside you, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's just been one of those days, Loki," you confessed, avoiding his gaze. Loki tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "Tell me, my sweet, what has transpired to cast this shadow upon your radiant countenance?"

You hesitated for a moment before deciding to confide in him. "I overheard some hurtful comments at work today. People were talking about my body, making me feel like I'm not good enough, like I should change the way I look."

Loki's expression shifted from curiosity to indignation. "They dare to criticize you? By the Nine Realms, such insolence!" He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace, placing a comforting kiss on your forehead. "You are perfect just the way you are, and anyone who says otherwise knows not the true essence of beauty." You nestled into his embrace, finding solace in his words. "I know I shouldn't let their words affect me, but it's hard, Loki. It's hard not to internalize their negativity."

Loki lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Listen to me, my love. Their words hold no weight. You are exquisite, a marvel crafted by the gods themselves. Your spirit, your mind, and yes, your body—all are divine. Do not let the shallow opinions of mortals lose your perception of self."

A small smile played on your lips, appreciating Loki's unwavering support. "Thank you, Loki. Your words mean more to me than you can imagine." Loki's eyes softened as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. "You are my heart, and I will not allow anyone to dim your light. Now, let me show you just how breathtaking you are."

With that, Loki stood, offering his hand to lead you to the bedroom. Intrigued by his proposal, you followed him, the warmth of his hand comforting. As you entered the dimly lit room, candles flickered, casting a soft glow that danced upon the walls.

Loki turned to you, his gaze filled with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "Undress for me, my love, and let me unveil the beauty that is rightfully mine to adore."

A hint of blush colored your cheeks, but there was a magnetic pull in Loki's gaze that made you feel desired rather than self-conscious. You slowly removed your clothes, each garment falling away as Loki watched with a hunger that wasn't merely physical but emotional—a yearning to connect with the vulnerability you shared.

Once you stood before him, exposed in more ways than one, Loki's eyes roamed your form, appreciating every curve and contour. He stepped closer, tracing his fingers delicately along the lines of your body.

"You are a masterpiece." he whispered, his breath sending shivers across your skin. "From the curve of your neck to the gentle slope of your shoulders, every inch of you is a testament to the divine artistry of creation."

Loki dropped to his knees, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the top of your foot. "This, my love, is a symbol of your journey—the paths you've walked and the steps you've taken. It is beautiful."

He continued his trail of kisses, looking up from time to time stealing glances of your reaction, moving upwards with each gentle caress. "Your knees, strong and resilient, have carried you through the storms of life. They are a testament to your strength."

His lips lingered on your thighs, and he spoke with reverence, "These, the canvas upon which life's tales are written. Every scar, every mark, tells a story of battles fought and victories won. They are a testament to your courage."

Loki stood, his eyes locking onto yours. "Your hips, a gateway to passion and pleasure. They are a celebration of desire and a testament to the allure that lies within you."

He circled his arms around your waist, pulling you close. A shiver runs across your body as his cold fingertips touch you. "Your abdomen, the core of your being. It houses the fire that fuels your spirit."

Loki pressed a gentle kiss to your collarbone. "Your chest, the home to your heart. It beats with a rhythm that is uniquely yours, and it is a testament to the love that defines you."

He looked deep into your eyes, his voice softening. "Your arms, the embodiment of your embrace. They offer comfort, strength, and support. They are a testament to the love you share."

Loki brought his lips to yours in a passionate kiss, the intensity of his emotions conveyed through the connection of your mouths. "And your lips, my love, are the seal of our love—a testament to the union of our souls."

As he spoke, Loki's words became a soothing balm, healing the wounds inflicted by the world outside. With each kiss, he unraveled the layers of insecurity, leaving behind a trail of affirmation and adoration.

"You are magnificent." Loki says, his eyes locking onto yours. "Do not let the opinions of others taint the truth of your worth. You are a celestial being, and in my eyes, you will forever shine for me."

Loki's words and soft kisses ended you flustered, and your body as always, asking for more. It was an intoxicating blend of mischief in his eyes along with his tender touch. The weight that had burdened your spirit began to lift, replaced by a newfound sense of confidence and self-love. Loki's words had the power to transform, to elevate, and you found yourself grateful for the depth of his understanding and the sincerity of his love.

In the arms of Loki, you found not just a lover but a partner who saw beyond the surface and cherished the essence of who you truly were—a radiant soul worthy of love and admiration.

#jiya writes #t: loki oneshots #loki x gender neutral reader #loki #tom hiddleston #loki x gn!reader #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki oneshots #loki imagine #loki x you #loki laufeyson #loki fluff #loki angst #marvel #mcu

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milkywayhou · 11 months ago

Text

You've Got Email (König x OC: Medical Student!Snow) PART III

Summary: When the Colonel from some Private Military Corporation group accidentally send KorTac's secret file via email to a random civilian girl and now they develop some weird relationship.

Snow now overthinking about how fucked up her situation can be

TWs: Slow burn (not really), Implies stalking behavior. I just wrote this for fun.

Words Count: 1.9k (The email contain 1.3+ words while the rest was Snow's 4Chan post)

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/13/23 at 01:38 am

Subject: A late night conspiracy ramble…

Hey!

Once again it’s a late night and these weary med student brain cells are firing off all kinds of…interesting theories and connections, to say the least.

For example, okay hear me out, but what if Big Pharma is actually run by ancient shape-shifting lizard people from the center of the hollow earth who feed on human adrenal gland fluid harvested during rituals conducted at Bohemian Grove, and they started the pharmaceutical industry just to get us all addicted to medication so we’re docile little cash cows?!

I know, I know, it’s utterly ridiculous…buuuuut it would explain a few things haha! Anyways, somehow my winding thought process led me back to pondering your own doubtless intriguing backstory, oh mysterious Colonel.

You’ve given mysterious snippets here and there, but never a straight history lesson, you sly dog. Care to unravel some of those shadows for this thirsty student? Like how’d you get into this line of work anyway?

Maybe share something to take my mind off lizard people conspiracies before this insomnia kills me. You’ve got me curious now!

Conspiracizing but also bedridden,

Snow

----

From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

05/13/23 at 02:01 am

Subject: RE: A late night conspiracy ramble…

You’ve a vivid imagination, to be sure. As for my own history…it’s nothing so fanciful, I’m afraid.

I grew up isolated, with only books as company. Social skills proved…challenging. The bullying was constant. All I wanted was to disappear into the quiet of nature, far from the incessant noise inside my head.

By 17 I was desperate to escape, and the military offered just that. I dreamed of being a sniper – controlling chaos from afar through calm precision. But my frame and restlessness didn’t suit remaining still for long. They saw potential elsewhere. They assigned as an insertion specialist instead. It was difficult, but taught discipline. In time I learned to turn noise into focus, chaos into strategy.

Now I protect others as I wished to be protected then. It brings…solace, of a kind. Purpose, where once was only turmoil.

Get some rest, Snow. Sweet dreams.

König

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/13/23 at 02:14 am

Subject: RE: RE: A late night conspiracy ramble…

I see.

Thank you for sharing that with me. I can’t imagine how difficult those experiences must have been, but I’m grateful you found your calling in spite of them. It takes real strength of character to turn trauma into purpose like that.

Also, I should say the bullying says far more about their weakness of spirit than anything about you. Their loss, as it brought you to where you’re meant to be – helping people in your own way. I can’t help but smile thinking of a tiny bookworm König dreaming of sniping lizards in the woods! Well, you may not be in the trees anymore but it seems your aim is truer than ever.

Thinking on childhoods, mine wasn’t all sunshine either as an awkward kid. Let’s just say blending in was…challenging, to put it lightly. Between moving a lot after my parents split and living with various relatives, school was an escape into study. Seemed the safest route to gain some footing and make the family proud, at least. Kept me busy avoiding the realities outside books for a while too, I suppose. Somehow I suspect lonely bookworm me and you may have gotten along splendidly if our paths crossed back then!

Anyways, not sure where I’m going with this aside from reflecting our younger selves may have found solace in one another, strange as that sounds now in these roles. At least we’ve come into our own in the end, in our own ways. Small favors and all that.

Just a light note before sleep – rest well, König!

Your friend,

Snow

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/28/23 at 08:27 pm

Subject: Essay Woes and Cadaver Flashbacks

Ugh,

My apologies for this incoherent word vomit you’re about to endure. I’m approximately 5-7 days into an all-nighter essay crunch and my last two brain cells are DANCING.

This final assignment is killing me dead but at least after it’s over I can finally be done with med school! *insert jubilant celebration emoji* Of course that’s if I don’t starve to death first living off instant ramen. I’m positively wasting away without a decent meal. At this rate they’ll be teaching anatomy lectures using my lifeless body.

Whoever invents a magic food delivery service that beams freshly cooked meals directly to overworked students is getting a freaking Nobel Prize. A girl can dream, right? At this point I’d kill a man for a good pizza. *hideshypotheticalmurderweaponbehindback*

Anyways, in my spiral of delirium my thoughts keep wandering back to that fateful day months ago when I randomly received your classified KorTac email out of nowhere. Still bewildered how you even had my address to begin with…were you watching me, Colonel? *pretends to be frightened but is secretlyflattered*

Getting that file was kinda scary at first, not gonna lie. Reminded me of the first time we received our cadavers – that creepy feeling of being watched even after leaving the lab. Is that what it’s like being you, always paranoid someone has intel on you? :)

Anyways, enough gibbering – just wanted to share my pain and also wonder again how our wacky email friendship began! Stay safe out there in whatever shady places your work takes you. And send help – I mean, good luck with all the classified stuff!

Tired and Hangry,

Snow

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/28/23 at 08:40 pm

Subject: WHAT DID YOU DO

KÖNIG I SWEAR TO GOD

I LITERALLY JUST GOT A DELIVERY AT MY DOOR. IT WAS PIZZA AND IT WAS ALREADY PAID FOR

DUDE TELL ME YOU DIDN’T HACK INTO MY LOCATION OR SOME SHIT. HOW DO YOU KNOW WHERE I LIVE??

I’M FREAKING OUT A LITTLE NOT GONNA LIE. I KNOW YOU HAVE ACCESS TO SHADY TECH BUT PLEASE TELL ME YOU DIDN’T TRACK ME DOWN

I was joking in my last email! Sort of! Please say this was all just a coincidence. I don’t need some extra secret stalker on top of everything else ;____;

Explain yourself soldier man!!! My paranoia can only be quelled with answers.

Sending mildly panicked regards,

Snow

----

From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

05/28/23 at 09:12 pm

Subject: RE: WHAT DID YOU DO

Snow,

I assure you, any capabilities related to surveillance are reserved strictly for operations.

As for your delivery, consider it a small kindness from one overworked soul to another. Now eat, regain strength, and get back to that essay. You’ve proven quite resourceful in pulling secrets from shadows. But some mysteries deserve to remain.

Worry not and carry on with your studies.

König

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/28/23 at 09:25 pm

Subject: Spill. Everything. Now.

I appreciate the pizza bailout, don’t get me wrong. But my paranoia has now reached DEFCON 1 levels and it WILL NOT stand down until I get some answers. So spill. Just how much do you actually know about me? Do you have my address on file somewhere? Photos? Socials? Pet peeves? Middle name??

I understand need-to-know for operations, but this is need-to-know for my own peace of mind. Please assuage these frazzled med student nerves and assure me you’re not some mysterious stalker Colonel (unless that’s just part of your charm). I’ll even send new Luna's pics in return! Consider it a debriefing – you give, you get. Otherwise the wheels will keep spinning in my head…

Sincerely (and only mildly obsessively),

Snow

----------

>>Anonymous

05/29/23(Mon)22:37:10 No:132926391

Colonel Stalker Dude is freaking me out

Image: [Confused pepe scratching head.jpg 230kb, 400x400]

>Be me, a totally tired out and broke student

>Remember getting those shady files months ago

>Thought Colonel dude was cool and weird pen pal

>Even started to like him after long talks

>But NOW he knows my address???

>WTF how long has he been watching me

>On one hand it’s creepy AF but kinda flattering a high rank dude cares

>Other hand I don't want a secret stalker or to get disappeared

>Free food is nice but feeling stalked is not cash money

>Used to have bit of crush but now I'm skeeved TBH

>What do? Can't go to cops cuz questions. No close friends/fam

>Too broke to move or change info

>Maybe he’s just lonely but also maybe he climbs in my window ;____;

>What if he takes my organs in the night like some human harvester?!

>Only protection is my cat Luna and she's useless in a fight ;_;

>Try to be positive and asking him how much he know

>Currently waiting for his replied while I was writing this post

>Anons pls help, should I keep talking to possible stalker man?

Don’t want my organs harvested but also don’t wanna waste a free food connection

Very conflicted and slightly paranoid this girl is in DIRE need of advice

Anonymous 05/29/23(Mon)22:45:19 No:132926405: >>132926391(OP)#

Sounds like a thriller romance novel lol! He probs just cares in his own intense way. Keep talking but be safe, maybe feel him out more? Could be nnothing ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anonymous 05/29/23(Mon)23:16:08 No:132926439: >>132926405#

IKR it does sound like a book! But what if it’s a prequel to a snuff film?! I’ll try to subtly find out wtf he knows without pissing him off…

Anonymous 05/29/23(Mon)23:37:12 No:132926502: >>132926391(OP)#

LOL girl chill no one climbin in ur windows. He prolly just admires ur spirit. Keep lines of comms open, set boundaries if needed but relax!

Anonymous 05/29/23(Mon)23:45:01 No:13292623: >>132926502#

You’re right, I do overthink! I’ll calm my farm. Thank u stranger, maybe he’s just a bored soldier man and not a psycho (´。＿。｀)

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)00:25:31 No:13292684: >>132926391(OP)#

Change ur info anyway, maybe he won’t go to ur new stuff. And get some locks/alarms jfc. Play it safe.

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)00:42:44 No:13292692: >>13292684#

Can’t change anything, I used my student email! And too broke for moves or upgrades, these loans gotta last :’( but self defense is a must, thanks!

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)01:28:19 No:132922735: >>132926391(OP)#

Send Luna pics. Also tell col u feel weird, set ground rules like no stalking. Maybe he just wants friendship. Be safe!

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)01:46:31 No:132922757: >>132922735#

[sleepy_Luna.jpg 1,3mb 1000x1000] You’re so right, communication is key. I’ll lay it all out clearly and see how it goes. Thx fren <3

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)01:59:36 No:132922805: >>132926391(OP)#

Maybe he liiiiikes you ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) whatever happens keep us posted! We’re invested now lol

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)02:08:55 No:132922822: >>132922805#

omggg don't say that!! Now I'll be paranoid AND flustered X_X But I definitely will update y'all, this is quite the melodrama unfolding

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)02:15:36 No:132922811: >>132926391(OP)#

Girlll tell that stalker if he wants a piece he gonna have to pay your tuition first! Then maybe you’ll reconsider the organ harvesting. Gotta respect your worth sis 💅

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)02:23:12 No:132922834: >>132922811#

Omg you genius!!! If he’s really interested he can sponsor my broke ass med student life lol. Alleviate my debt and he gets unlimited Luna pics, win-win!

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)03:01:46 No:132922839: >>132926391(OP)#

Lmao girl you been reading too many thrillers! Military guys have ways of finding people, changing email won’t do shit. Just ask him wtf is up like a normal person

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)03:39:44 No:132922926: >>132922839#

Ugh you make a good point, confronting is smarter than hiding. But what if he locks me in a dungeon for being nosy?! I have no one to turn to if I disappear ;-;

------

From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

05/30/24 at 03:45am

Subject: RE: Spill. Everything. Now.

Snow,

Let’s just say I know more than you think. But rest assured, your privacy and safety remain my priority here.

As for debriefs, some questions are best left unanswered, even between…friends. Maintaining mystique has its place too, no?

Focus on your studies. I’ll focus on ensuring no more interruptions are needed.

Now get some rest. You’ve an early lab tomorrow if I’m not mistaken.

Sweet dreams.

König