#I need more paul in my life and so does everyone else

[guardian-angle22]

911: Lone Star | S5E4 -> Paul talking to the rats

[movingmusically]

Caught Feeling - Chapter 1

Synopsis:

Tired of her quiet, predictable life, a woman takes a spontaneous detour into a gritty bar. What begins as a distraction becomes a night of rediscovery, as an encounter with a captivating bartender brings her face-to-face with her own fears—and desires.

Author’s Note:

I’ve never written anything before, though I’ve always had stories in my head. Seeing all the Caught Stealing set content this week finally pushed me to get something down. I’ve combined the original two parts I posted earlier into one updated story, adding in some details I couldn’t leave out!

Word Count: 8,712

Masterlist

The truth is, I don’t really know what possessed me to walk into Paul’s tonight. I’m not the kind of person who normally does things like this—spontaneous, bold, risky. That’s never been me. Or at least, it hasn’t been me in a long time.

There was a time when I was more comfortable in my own skin, when my shyness didn’t feel like a weight. It used to be a part of me, something I accepted, something I lived with rather than fought against. I could be quiet and still feel confident, blending into the background but never doubting my worth. But somewhere along the way, that shifted. The quiet I once enjoyed now feels stifling. I’m constantly second-guessing myself, overthinking every little action, every word I say, as if there’s some invisible audience keeping score.

The world feels too loud, too fast, and I feel too small in it.

Lately, the silence of my own company has become less of a comfort and more of a reminder. A reminder that I’m stuck. That life is moving forward, and I’m standing still, watching everyone else go on without me. I can’t even remember the last time I did something that made me feel...alive. Not just existing from one day to the next but really feeling like I’m part of something—part of the world instead of just a spectator.

Tonight, it feels like I’ve reached some invisible limit. I can’t take another evening of staring at the same four walls, of flicking through channels without really watching, of pretending I’m okay with the monotony. Work drained me, as it always does, leaving me too exhausted to think but somehow too restless to sleep. My mind feels like it’s stuck in a loop, clogged with the same old worries that circle endlessly, without resolution. They’re small things—most of them, at least—but they pile up, weighing me down until I can barely breathe under their collective pressure.

Normally, I’d push through it, fall back into my routine because that’s what I do. I know the safe route; I’ve perfected it over time. But tonight, the routine felt unbearable. The thought of going home, of slipping back into the same old patterns—it made my chest tighten with the kind of dread I couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t that I had a plan, not really. I just knew I couldn’t face another night of nothingness.

So instead of walking home like I always do, I took a different path, literally. One foot in front of the other, the sidewalk unfamiliar beneath me as I moved further away from everything that felt safe and known. It wasn’t intentional, not at first. But the farther I walked, the more it felt like I was being pulled—by something I couldn’t name, some need inside me that I’ve been trying to ignore for too long.

And that’s how I ended up here, standing in front of Paul’s, the bar I’ve passed countless times but never once considered entering. It’s not my kind of place. Never has been. It’s gritty, loud, with an edge that feels too rough for someone like me. The kind of bar where everyone seems to know each other, where conversations are shared over sticky countertops and half-drunk glasses of whiskey. The regulars here probably have stories they’ve told a hundred times, stories about the kind of life I don’t live—the kind of life I always thought I didn’t want.

But maybe tonight, I don’t want to be the kind of person who always plays it safe, who blends into the background without ever leaving a mark. Maybe tonight, I need to be someone else. Someone who isn’t so afraid to take up space. Someone who doesn’t spend hours dissecting every interaction, every conversation, until the memory of it feels more like a mistake than a moment.

I step inside, and immediately, the atmosphere hits me like a wave. The smell of cigarette smoke clings to the air, mixing with the sharp scent of alcohol and something else I can’t quite place. It’s dimly lit, the kind of place where shadows linger in the corners, and the faces blur together unless you’re really looking. There’s a hum of conversation, the low murmur of voices blending with the occasional burst of laughter, creating a background noise that fills the space without overpowering it.

I don’t know why, but the second I cross the threshold, I feel the weight of the room shift. Not in any obvious way. It’s not like anyone stops what they’re doing to look at me—most people are too engrossed in their own lives, their own stories. But I feel it. I feel different, like I’ve stepped out of my usual world and into something unfamiliar, something that makes my nerves buzz just beneath the surface of my skin.

For a brief moment, I want to turn around, to leave before anyone even notices I’m here. That familiar urge to retreat, to go back to what I know, bubbles up inside me, threatening to overwhelm the tentative boldness that brought me here in the first place. But I don’t leave. I take a deep breath, hold it for a moment, and then force myself to stay. To move further into the bar, even though every part of me is screaming to turn back.

I make my way toward the bar, my steps feeling both too loud and too quiet at the same time. My eyes flick around, taking in the crowd, but not really seeing anyone. I feel exposed, out of place, but at the same time, there’s a strange comfort in knowing that no one is really paying attention to me. I can be invisible here if I want to be—and that’s fine. I’m not here to be noticed. I don’t need anyone to see me.

I just need a break—from my own head, from the endless loop of thoughts and worries that seem to follow me wherever I go. I don’t know what I’m hoping to find here, or if I’m even looking for anything at all. All I know is that tonight, I couldn’t go home. I needed to be somewhere different, somewhere unfamiliar, somewhere that wasn’t the same quiet, predictable space where my thoughts would close in on me again.

That’s when I see him.

He was positioned behind the bar, leaning casually against the counter with an ease that suggested he was in his element, practically part of the furniture. His blonde hair, tousled and slightly unkempt, peeked out from under a well-worn baseball cap, pulled down just enough to give him a hint of mystery, shadowing his piercing blue eyes. Those eyes caught mine with an intensity that felt almost tangible, sharp and probing, as if he could peel back the layers of anyone who happened to fall under his gaze.

For a brief moment, the thought of diverting my eyes flitted through my mind, a reflex to escape the unexpected vulnerability I felt under his scrutiny. But I didn’t look away. Instead, our eyes locked, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face—a smile that seemed to see right through to the nerves I was trying so hard to mask. He held my gaze for a beat too long, creating a moment charged with an unspoken challenge before he turned his attention back to the drinks he was pouring.

A stir of something unfamiliar fluttered inside me—a cocktail of nerves, curiosity, and an exhilarating sense of daring. This wasn't typically me; I was not one to flirt openly, especially with bartenders, nor to sit alone boldly in such a buzzing place. But tonight was different. Tonight, I felt drawn to the unknown, compelled to explore whatever this could lead to.

As I approached the bar, each step seemed amplified, my awareness heightened as if every movement was a statement of intent. I slid onto a stool, feeling the coolness of the leather through my jeans, and my presence seemed to draw his attention once more. The bottles behind him caught the soft lighting of the bar, casting a kaleidoscope of colours across the polished surface. The room was steeped in the smells of smoke and aged wood, enriched with a hint of something musky, almost intoxicating.

He glanced up as I settled in, his earlier smile returning, expectant, as if he had anticipated the challenge I was about to present.

“What’ll it be?” he asked, his voice a rough blend of warmth and rasp, perfectly echoing the raw, ambient energy of the bar.

Under normal circumstances, I’d have a standard order ready, something simple and unassuming, designed to blend in rather than stand out. But tonight, driven by a newfound audacity, I hesitated, meeting his gaze squarely. “Whatever you recommend,” I ventured, my voice more steady than I felt.

His eyebrow arched, clearly amused by my response, and his smirk widened, adding a playful edge to his already compelling demeanour. “You trust me to pick for you?”

I nodded, the gesture firm despite the fluttering in my stomach. “Yeah. Surprise me.”

He chuckled, a low sound that seemed to resonate with a hint of respect, or perhaps challenge. Shaking his head as if in disbelief at my daring, he reached for a bottle. “Alright, you asked for it.”

Watching him work was like observing a skilled artist; each movement was fluid and assured. He selected ingredients with precision, mixing them with a practiced hand that spoke of years behind the bar. As he prepared the drink, I found myself stealing glances, drawn to the confident way he navigated his domain.

He slid the drink across the bar with a smooth motion, and when his fingers brushed mine, a spark of electricity zipped through me, startling and vivid.

“Here you go,” he said, his tone light, that easy grin playing on his lips again. “Let me know what you think.”

I took a tentative sip, and the drink was a revelation—smooth with an undercurrent of complexity that mirrored the night itself. It warmed me, loosening the edges of my anxiety, coaxing a sense of openness I hadn’t felt upon walking in.

“Not bad,” I replied, my own smile a reflection of his, a silent acknowledgment of the small adventure I had embarked upon.

His eyes studied me, a flicker of intrigue passing through them. “Good to know,” he said, his voice tinged with a subtle warmth. He momentarily excused himself to attend to another customer, his movements efficient and practiced as he refilled a drink without missing a beat.

As he worked, the familiar atmosphere of the bar wrapped around us—a comfortable hum of background chatter mingled with the clink of glasses and the occasional cheer from patrons watching the baseball game on the television above. Adjusting his cap, he made his way back to where I was sitting, his approach marked by an easy, confident smile that seemed to pull the dim light of the bar towards him.

Normally, I’d be tongue-tied, fumbling for words, but here, with him, it felt different.

“So, you come here often?” I asked, aiming for light-hearted but cringing a bit at the cliché.

He chuckled, a light, engaging sound that drew a grin from me. “I guess you could say that. I work here most nights. Name’s Hank, by the way,” he introduced himself, extending a hand across the bar.

Hank. It suited him perfectly—strong, straightforward, with just the right amount of rugged charm.

“I’m—” I began, ready to offer my own name, but just then, a regular at the end of the bar caught Hank’s attention, loudly requesting help with the jukebox that was stubbornly refusing to accept their money. Hank shot me a quick, conspiratorial smile that promised he’d return, and then he was off, his stride confident as he navigated the crowded space.

I watched him as he worked, noting the way his shoulders rolled with each movement, the casual confidence in his stride. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, something that drew the eye and held it. It wasn’t just his looks—though those certainly didn’t hurt—it was the way he seemed so completely at ease in his environment, as if he were as much a fixture of the bar as the shelves of liquor behind him.

As he adjusted the jukebox, his eyes occasionally flicked to the small television mounted above the bar. The San Francisco Giants were playing, and it was clear from his intermittent nods and muttered comments to another patron that he was following the game.

When he returned, the noise level in the bar had dropped a bit, and he leaned in slightly to resume our conversation. “Big Giants fan?” I asked, gesturing towards his hat and the screen above us.

"Definitely," Hank said, his smile broadening. "I played a ton in high school back in California, but a bad leg break sidelined me for good. Now, I never miss a game, it helps keep the spirit alive."

“From baseball player to master mixologist,” I observed, noting the transition from his past interests to his current profession. “Looks like you’ve got it all figured out.”

He let out a soft chuckle, a hint of irony flickering in his eyes. “Something like that,” he replied with a slight shrug. “Though life always has a few surprises up its sleeve, doesn’t it?”

As the evening unfolded, the bar had thinned out, not nearly as busy as when I first arrived, but still lively enough to keep Hank moving between customers. Between sharing a laugh, or tossing a rag over his shoulder with casual grace, his eyes would inevitably return, as though drawn by some unspoken pull. Each time he approached, it felt like we were continuing a conversation that had never really stopped, even if words weren’t always exchanged. It was more about his presence—the way he leaned in slightly, his focus making it seem like nothing else in the room mattered.

The warmth of the alcohol settled into me, quieting my usual reservations. It wasn’t enough to cloud my thoughts—I was still fully aware—but it gave me a newfound confidence. With each passing moment, the initial unease melted away, replaced by a comfortable rhythm between us.

“So, what brings you to Paul’s tonight? You don’t exactly blend in with the usual crowd here,” Hank inquired after a while, his tone casual but curious, his eyes searching mine for something deeper than the surface-level chit-chat.

I hesitated, the question more profound than I had anticipated sharing with a near-stranger. Yet, something about Hank’s straightforwardness, underscored by the honest curiosity in his eyes, made me want to open up.

I shrugged, glancing around. “Just needed a change of scenery, I guess. This isn’t exactly my usual kind of place.”

He chuckled, leaning against the bar, his blue eyes flicking up to the TV screen for a moment where the end credits of the game were rolling. “Yeah, I kind of figured. You’ve got that look—like you’re used to being somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else like… where?” I asked, curious what he saw in me.

He paused, his gaze momentarily drifting off as if visualising the answer, then locked back onto me with a reflective expression. “I dunno. A café, maybe? Somewhere quiet. You strike me as someone who appreciates peace.”

I smiled, touched by his perceptiveness. “You’re not wrong. I’m definitely more of a coffee shop girl than a bar regular.”

Hank’s eyes twinkled with a mixture of curiosity and amusement as he leaned in a bit, resting his chin on his hand, studying me as if he was putting together a puzzle. “Let me guess,” he started, his voice lowering to a warm, playful tone, “you’ve got that favourite little corner spot, don’t you? Always tucked away with a book or maybe a notebook for doodling or jotting down your thoughts. And I bet you drink your coffee black, no distractions—just you and your thoughts.”

The accuracy of his assumptions made me burst into laughter, more open and genuine than I expected in such a setting. “Okay, you’re close,” I conceded, still chuckling. “But, I do take a little sugar with my coffee—just a touch to sweeten the deal.”

His laughter joined mine, creating a light, easy atmosphere that seemed to set the tone for whatever was to come. “Noted,” he said, with a mock-serious nod. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

The lighthearted moment briefly subsided as he posed a more thoughtful question, his tone lowering to a gentle, inviting rumble. “So, what’s got you stepping out of your coffee shop comfort zone tonight?”

Glancing down at my glass, the swirl of liquid momentarily mesmerising, I acknowledged the underlying current of vulnerability. Yet, there was an ease in Hank’s presence that coaxed the words from me more freely than I expected. “I don’t know... I just didn’t want to be alone tonight. Work’s been overwhelming, I guess I just needed a break from myself for a while. From the routine, the quiet. You ever feel that way?”

Hank’s response was a nod, his eyes softening with a deep understanding. “Yeah, more than you’d think.” Curiosity piqued, I found myself more drawn to him, seeing him not only in his role here but as someone who genuinely understood the struggles people go through. “What about you? You seem like the kind of guy who’s seen it all here. What keeps you coming back?”

“The people, I guess,” he said thoughtfully, his eyes meeting mine again. “Everyone who walks in has their own story, their own reason for being here. I like that—it’s unpredictable. I can be part of the background or something more, depending on the night. Tonight feels different, though.”

“Different how?” I asked, my voice quieter now, the conversation shifting as his attention became more focused.

“Maybe it’s you,” he said, his tone teasing but his gaze serious. “You stand out. You’re not trying to blend in, like most people who come in here to disappear for a bit.”

I felt a shiver run through me, even though his words were light. “I wasn’t really planning on standing out,” I admitted, my voice softer now, a little shy.

He folded his arms on the bar, leaning in just a touch closer. The subtle intimacy of the gesture didn’t go unnoticed. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

I felt my cheeks warm, surprised at how much I liked hearing that. “Yeah… me too,” I said, smiling just enough to let him know I meant it.

He smiled back, his voice dropping lower. “Sometimes, stepping into something unfamiliar is exactly what we need to remind ourselves what we’ve been missing.”

There was a brief pause, comfortable yet charged with an unspoken acknowledgment of the connection forming between us. “And what do you think I’ve been missing?”

He leaned in, closing the space between us. “Maybe something real. Something that pulls you out of the everyday.”

I held his gaze, my heart racing a little faster now. “Maybe I am.”

“Well,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, “you’re not alone in that.”

The air between us thickened, charged with an undeniable pull. Even in the quiet, there was no mistaking the connection forming between us—raw, real, and electric.

The last patrons trickled out, and the bar lights dimmed slightly, signalling the end of the night. The soft glow cast shadows that only made the space feel more intimate. A slow, soulful tune from the jukebox filled the room, amplifying the closeness between us.

Hank leaned in a little more, his hands idly wiping down the already spotless counter, though his attention was fully on me. The air around us felt thick with unspoken anticipation, a magnetic pull that neither of us could ignore.

"You’ve definitely changed the vibe in here tonight," Hank murmured, his voice a low, warm rumble that seemed to match the mood of the room. “Doesn’t happen often.”

I felt a flush of heat rise to my cheeks but found myself leaning in too, letting the moment take over. "Is that your way of saying you hope I come back?" I asked, my tone playful, though beneath it, there was something bolder, something daring.

A slow smile spread across his face, one that made my pulse quicken. “I’m definitely saying that. You’ve made tonight... different. And I like it.”

The room felt smaller, as though it was just the two of us, the rest of the world fading into the background. Our eyes locked, the tension between us humming with an intensity that felt almost tangible. Neither of us moved to break it.

Hank leaned a little closer. There was a question forming on his lips, one that seemed to dance in his eyes as he paused, giving the moment the weight it deserved.

His gaze flicked to the back door, then back to me, and I could see the question in his eyes before he said it. “You wanna get out of here?” His voice was low, the words hanging in the air between us like a challenge.

The invitation was clear, laden with possibilities and the thrill of continuing whatever was unfolding between us outside the confines of the bar walls. I blinked, my heart skipping a beat. Normally, I would hesitate, tangled in self-doubt and over-analysis. But tonight felt different. It felt like a return to an older version of myself—I took a deep breath, embracing the liberating shift, and met Hank's gaze with a quiet nod.

"Yeah," I said softly, "I do."

Hank nodded, a knowing smile spreading across his face as he moved towards the employees-only door at the far end of the bar. He gestured for me to come closer to where the bar ended, and I walked towards him, my heart pounding in my ears.

As I reached the end of the bar, I found myself separated from him by a pane of glass that partitioned off the employees’ area. Above Hank, the neon “BAR” sign bathed him in an ethereal glow, casting dramatic shadows across his features, highlighting the contours of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes, and the gentle curve of his full lips. He reached up to unlock the door from his side, his eyes locked on mine.

Our hands met through the glass, fingertips aligning in a moment charged with anticipation. The cool surface couldn’t lessen the warmth that radiated from his touch. With a soft click, he swung the door open, diminishing the barrier between us.

“After you,” he said, his voice low and inviting. I moved around the partition, stepping into his world behind the bar for the first time. There was an intimate thrill to being on his side, close enough to share his space.

Together, we walked towards the back of the bar, where a heavy door led to the alley outside. As Hank pushed it open the cool night air hit my skin, but it did little to cool the fire that had been burning between us all night. The alley behind the bar was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the walls, but I barely noticed. All I could focus on was him—the way his broad shoulders moved, the way his hands flexed at his sides as if he was holding himself back.

We stopped just outside the door, and before I had time to second-guess myself, he turned to me, stepping in close. The space between us disappeared in an instant, and I felt his hand at my waist, pulling me gently but firmly against him. My breath caught in my throat, and for a split second, all I could do was look up into those mesmerising blue eyes, my heart pounding in my chest.

Then he kissed me.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. His lips crashed against mine, urgent and hungry, like he’d been waiting all night for this moment. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer as his mouth moved against mine, and I kissed him back just as fiercely, my fingers instinctively finding their way to the base of his skull. His hair was soft, curling around my fingers as I tangled my hands in it, pulling him closer.

He let out a low, guttural sound, the kind of sound that sent shivers down my spine and made my knees weak. His hands slid up my back, his fingers digging into my skin as he pressed me against the brick wall behind us. The roughness of the wall was a stark contrast to the heat of his body, and I arched into him, wanting—needing—to be closer.

As he kissed me deeper, the sensation was overwhelming—like a storm that obliterates everything else, leaving only a beautiful, blissful blankness in its wake. It blew my mind how everything inside me cast into darkness, every worry dissolving in the heat of his touch. What a relief it was, not having to think anymore.

My hands stayed tangled in his hair, pulling him down harder as his lips trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jawline.

This wasn’t me. This wasn’t the shy, quiet girl who kept to herself, who avoided risks. But right now, with Hank’s body pressed against mine, his lips on my skin, I didn’t care. All I cared about was him, the way he made me feel—alive, bold, free.

And I wasn’t about to stop.

His breath was hot against my skin as his lips moved lower, trailing down my neck, and I could feel every nerve in my body igniting. I tugged at his hair again, just enough to pull him back to my mouth, and when our lips met, the kiss was even more intense—desperate, as if we both knew this moment was everything we had been building up to all night.

I could feel his body press harder against mine, his hands roaming over my waist, my hips, pulling me even closer as though the small space between us was unbearable. My back hit the rough surface of the brick wall again, but the discomfort only heightened the sensation. The world outside the alley faded away—there were no more sounds from the bar, no distant cars, just the pounding of our hearts and the shared heat between us.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, and he rested his forehead against mine, his blue eyes searching my face in the dim light. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire.

I swallowed, my breath still catching in my throat. “I think I do,” I whispered back, unable to stop the smile that tugged at my lips.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “I thought I had you all figured out, but… you keep surprising me.”

“I’m surprising myself,” I admitted, my fingers still tangled in his hair, feeling the warmth of his scalp beneath my touch. “But I like it.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me fully, his gaze softening for a moment, as if he was trying to read me—trying to make sure I was still in control, still wanting this as much as he did. And I was. More than I’d ever imagined.

“What now?” His voice was a little quieter, a little less hurried, but still laced with that same intensity.

I didn’t need to think about it. I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his again, this time slower, more deliberate, savouring the feel of him, the taste of his mouth. “I don’t want this to stop,” I whispered between kisses, my hands sliding down to grip his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles as he held back.

He groaned softly against my lips, his hands gripping my hips tighter. “It doesn’t have to.”

The way he said it, so sure, made my heart race even faster. We were in an alley behind a bar, but in this moment, it didn’t matter. Nothing felt rushed or wrong. It felt like exactly where we were supposed to be. Like I had finally stepped into a part of myself I’d been avoiding for too long. And with him, it felt… right.

The intensity between us burned hotter, and soon, his hands were back on my waist, sliding under my shirt, his fingers grazing the skin there in a way that made me gasp. I could feel the roughness of the brick wall behind me, but all I could focus on was him—his touch, his breath, the way he seemed just as lost in this as I was.

But there was something else too, a sense of grounding I hadn’t expected. He wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t pushing. He was waiting, following my lead, giving me the space to feel, to take in every second of this. And I knew, in that moment, that whatever happened next, it was because we both wanted it. Because we were both ready for it.

And as the world around us continued to disappear, the night taking over, I knew that whatever came next—whether it lasted for just this night or beyond—it would be the best decision I’d ever made.

But then, as if sensing a shift in the moment, Hank’s lips stilled against mine. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine, our breaths mingling in the cool night air. His fingers tightened on my waist as though he couldn’t bear to let me go for even a second, but his voice was softer now, more grounded. “We should get out of here.”

My eyes fluttered open, meeting his in the dim light. He was still close, so close, his blue eyes darker now, full of unspoken promise. “Yeah,” I breathed, my heart still racing. “We should.”

Without another word, he gently untangled us from the wall, his hand sliding into mine as he led me out of the alley. The sudden openness of the quiet street hit me all at once, the world outside the alley much brighter, sharper, but I barely registered it. All I could think about was the way Hank’s thumb traced small circles on the back of my hand as we walked, like he needed the physical connection to tether us to the moment. I held his hand tighter, feeling the warmth radiating through his palm, the steadiness in the way he held me.

We walked in silence for a minute, the intensity of the night lingering between us. There was no rush, no need for words right now—just the sound of our footsteps echoing softly in the quiet night. I couldn’t help but steal glances at him as we walked, at the way his jaw clenched and relaxed, his gaze still fixed ahead, but every now and then flicking back to me with that same heat that had burned between us all night.

With every step, the cool night seemed to draw us closer, the world fading until there was nothing but the warmth of his hand in mine. Finally, we reached his apartment. Hank fumbled with the keys for just a moment, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, betraying a mix of nerves and excitement. The lock clicked, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet hallway, and the door swung open, revealing the inviting glow of warm light inside.

He stepped aside, letting me walk in first, his hand still wrapped around mine. The apartment was simple but cozy, a space that felt lived in but not cluttered. Warm light spilled from a nearby lamp, casting a golden hue over dark wood furniture, soft blankets draped over a well-worn couch, and a guitar propped in the corner. The air was tinged with a scent that was both woodsy and intimately familiar—perhaps cedar, or simply the essence of Hank—enveloping me in a sense of deep, comforting familiarity.

As he shut the door behind us, the soft click of the lock seemed to seal us off from the rest of the world. The moment was heavy with anticipation, yet it carried a tenderness that made the space between us feel charged yet safe. I stood still, taking in the room, and felt his presence behind me. Turning slowly, I met his gaze—intense, dark, yet filled with a softness that drew me closer.

The electric connection that had sparked between us earlier was not only still present but had intensified in the privacy of his space. His eyes momentarily searched mine, a silent question lingering in their depths, ensuring I was truly there with him, in this moment. Reassured by my subtle nod, his familiar half-smile appeared, sending a rush of warmth through me.

He approached me, each step measured and unhurried. Reaching me, he raised his hand to gently cup my face, his thumb tenderly brushing my cheek in a touch that grounded and calmed me. His fingers wove through my hair, and a shiver ran down my spine as his thumb delicately traced my lower lip, the gesture so filled with intent and tenderness that my breath hitched in anticipation.

For a moment, we simply stood there, barely inches apart, the stillness of his apartment wrapping around us. Then, driven by playful curiosity, I reached up and gently tugged at the brim of his cap, pulling it off. His hair, tousled and soft, spilled over his forehead. The golden lamplight highlighted subtle waves, which caught the light as they fell free. I smiled and let the cap drop to the floor.

“I’ve been wanting to see you without this,” I teased, my fingers weaving through his hair, exploring its texture—thick and surprisingly soft, curling lightly against my fingers. He exhaled a soft sigh, a sound of relief or perhaps pleasure, his eyes deepening into a more intense hue as they locked with mine.

“It feels better already,” he murmured, the timbre of his voice low and inviting. His hands found their way to my waist, his touch firm yet gentle, anchoring me close to him as his gaze stayed fixed on mine, conveying a depth of feeling that went beyond mere attraction.

We kissed again, but this time it was different—slower, more deliberate, as if we were savouring every second. His hands roamed over my waist, tracing the curves of my hips before gliding up my back, each touch sending shivers cascading through me. I leaned into him, my body pressing closer, feeling the firm warmth of his chest against mine.

His lips left mine only to trail down to my neck, soft and warm as he planted a line of kisses from my jaw to my collarbone. My breath caught in my throat, a flush of heat sweeping over me as his hands slid under the hem of my shirt, his fingers grazing the bare skin of my lower back. I arched into him, wanting more of his touch, more of him.

But he maintained a tantalising pace, not rushing the moment. His hands explored with deliberation, exploring the contours of my body as if he wished to etch them into his memory. His touch was gentle yet assertive, guiding without pressuring, and I felt the attentiveness in every movement, ensuring I was fully present with him. My hands wandered across his chest, tracing the defined muscles beneath his shirt, revelling in how his body tensed responsively to my touch.

He kissed me again, deeper this time, and in a quiet plea for more, I tugged gently at the hem of his shirt. He pulled back just enough to help me lift it over his head, tossing it to the side. The sight of him—shirtless, standing before me in the soft light—made my heart race even faster. His torso was sculpted and firm, his skin radiating warmth under my fingertips as I followed the lines of his muscles, feeling the slight tension there as if he, too, was holding back, letting the moment unfold slowly.

Hank’s hands slid up my sides, his fingers brushing over the fabric of my shirt as he slowly began to lift it. I raised my arms in silent consent, allowing him to pull the garment over my head. The cool air brushed against my skin, yet it paled in comparison to the fervour of his touch. His hands returned to the small of my back, drawing me in until our bodies aligned. I was now standing in just my bra and jeans, my bare skin pressing against his, the direct contact of our skin was electrifying.

His gaze swept over me, filled with a mixture of awe and desire, yet he maintained his deliberate pace. Leaning in, he kissed me tenderly, his hands rising along my back to trace the contours of my spine, finally pausing at the clasp of my bra. He hesitated, his breath warm against my ear, his voice a soft murmur, “Is this okay?”

I nodded, breathless, my hands running up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palms. “Yes.”

He smiled against my skin, his fingers deftly unhooking my bra before letting it fall to the floor. His hands were on me again in an instant, warm and firm, sliding up to cup my breasts gently, his thumbs brushing over my skin in slow, teasing circles.

Hank’s lips grazed my collarbone, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down to the swell of my chest. His hands explored me with deliberate care, his touch sending waves of heat coursing through my body. When his mouth found my nipple, he teased it gently, the sensation sparking something deep and primal inside me. I let out a soft moan, my fingers tightening in his hair. “God, that feels amazing,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

He let out a low groan as he lifted me with ease, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His hands tightened around my thighs, keeping me close, I could feel the hardness of his body pressing into mine, each step toward the bedroom intensifying my need for him, the heat between us nearly unbearable.

He laid me down gently on the bed, his body hovering over mine, his hands never leaving my skin. He kissed me again, slow and deep, as his hands moved down my sides, tracing the line of my ribs, my hips, before reaching the waistband of my jeans. His fingers lingered there for a moment, his touch light but full of promise.

My body ached for him, the need overwhelming now, and I reached up, my hands tugging at his belt. Hank’s breath hitched as I unfastened it, my fingers slowly working the buckle before moving to the button of his jeans. I eased the zipper down, each movement deliberate, and he quickly followed my lead, his fingers deftly undoing the button on mine. With one smooth motion, he eased both my jeans and underwear down. I sat up slightly, desire tightening in my core as I eagerly guided his jeans and boxers down. He groaned softly as I slid the fabric over his hips , and I couldn’t help but bite my lip, heat flooding through me as I took in the sight of him, feeling a mix of awe and raw need.

With nothing left between us, Hank moved closer, his weight slowly pressing down as he hovered above me, our bodies finally connecting. The sensation of his warmth and the solid press of his length against me was overwhelming, yet exactly what I craved. His lips found mine again, gentler this time, while his hands explored me with careful intention, as if he wanted to savour every moment and memorise every inch of me.

He paused for a moment, his forehead resting against mine as he caught his breath, his hands still cupping my waist, his thumbs gently brushing over my skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice rough with yearning.

I smiled up at him, my hands sliding up to cup his face, pulling him down for another kiss. “So are you.”

It was intoxicating—he was intoxicating. And yet, as his hand slid down my side, I felt a flicker of something else. This isn’t me, I thought, not for the first time tonight. The quiet, careful girl who played it safe, who kept her feelings locked away, wouldn’t have ended up here. But with Hank—with him—everything felt different. It wasn’t just the heat between us or the way his touch made my body come alive. It was the way he looked at me, the way he saw me, like there was no one else in the world but us.

And for the first time, I wasn’t afraid to let go.

His fingers traced lower, along the length of my thigh, caressing the sensitive skin there. He kissed just beneath my ear, and I could feel the soft brush of his hair as he moved, his breath heavy but controlled. Hank’s hand moved between my legs, his fingers parting me gently, slick with my wetness, exploring with a careful but knowing touch. My breath caught, and I let out a soft moan, my body arching into him, craving more. I could feel the tension building inside me, every nerve alight with sensation, and the way he touched me—so deliberate, so focused—made the moment feel even more intense.

He lifted his head, his lips brushing against mine as he met my gaze, his blue eyes dark and full of need. There was something in the way he looked at me, something that made my heart pound even harder—like he was asking for more than just permission. He was asking for trust.

And I gave it to him.

My hips shifted with his movements, my body instinctively responding as his fingers pressed deeper, working in rhythm with my rising need. His touch sent waves of heat through me, building toward a release I could feel just out of reach. His lips moved against mine, his breath ragged as he murmured my name, his voice thick with want. I could feel the urgency in every kiss, every movement, as he drew me closer to the edge.

This wasn’t me—this wasn’t who I normally was. I didn’t do this. I didn’t sleep with men I’d just met. I had always been cautious, reserved, taking my time before giving myself over to moments like this. But with Hank, none of that mattered. There was something different here—something raw and honest that made me let go in a way I never had before.

I wasn’t inexperienced, far from it. I knew what I wanted, and right now, I wanted him. It wasn’t the uncertainty of the newness that had me trembling beneath him; it was the way he made me feel like this was more than just the moment. It was the way he looked at me like he saw me—like I wasn’t just a passing encounter, but something real.

Without breaking our connection, Hank shifted, his mouth moving lower as his fingers continued their steady rhythm. My hands tangled in his hair as I guided him down, my body urging him on. Then his lips were on me, soft and insistent, sending another rush of pleasure through me. My hand moved to grip the sheets beside me as he sucked gently, amplifying the sensation while his fingers stayed firm, working me toward release. I gasped, my legs tightening around him, instinctively holding him there as I let go completely, my body giving in as the waves of pleasure crashed over me.

I’d never let go like this before—not with someone I’d just met. But right now, I wasn’t thinking about what was usual or expected. I was just thinking about him.

Breathless, I felt him move back up, laying the length of his body gently against mine. Before he could say anything, I pulled him into a slow, deep kiss, tasting the remnants of my release on his lips. When I finally pulled back, his eyes locked onto mine. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice rough, filled with both satisfaction and unspoken need.

My heart raced, still buzzing from the release, and I breathed out a soft, teasing reply. “Not done yet,” I murmured, my lips brushing his jaw. The warmth of his skin against mine only fuelled the fire that hadn’t quite faded.

With a shift of my hips, I surprised both of us, rolling him over beneath me. Hank let out a low groan, his hands instinctively settling on my waist as I straddled him, my confidence growing as I took control. His eyes locked on mine, dark with hunger, and I could feel the rapid beat of his heart under my palms as I pressed them firmly to his chest.

“You like that?” I whispered, his answer was another groan, deeper this time, as his hands gripped my hips a little tighter. “You have no idea,” he growled, his voice full of want.

I leaned down, letting my lips barely graze his, keeping him just on the edge of what he craved, knowing I was the one in control now.

I hovered just above him, our breaths coming fast, feeling the heat radiating from his body, knowing he wanted more—needed more. But I held back, teasing him with the lightest brush of my lips, making him wait, making him want it as much as I did. His grip tightened on me, his fingers pressing into my skin as he resisted the urge to take control again.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire.

I smirked against his lips, revelling in the power I had over him in that moment. “Good,” I whispered, barely audible, before pressing my lips to his in a deep, languid kiss that made his whole body tense beneath me.

Hank groaned into my mouth as I moved my hips ever so slightly, teasing him with the smallest amount of friction. His body reacted immediately, his hands gripping my waist with a new urgency, but I wasn’t ready to give in just yet. I wanted to savour every second of this, every sound he made, every look in his eyes.

“Please,” he muttered against my lips, his voice hoarse, laced with desperation that sent a thrill through me.

I pressed my palms against his chest, feeling the heat of his skin and the tension in his muscles. “I’m just getting started,” I teased, lowering my lips to his neck, letting my teeth gently graze the skin there, sending a shiver through him. The soft gasp that escaped his lips sent a thrill through me, and I knew I was in control now.

He let out a low growl, his control slipping just enough that I could feel the shift in his body, the tension coiling tighter, and it sent another rush of excitement through me. I rocked my hips again, this time giving him just a little more of what he wanted, and the sound he made—deep, desperate—was enough to make my pulse race.

He tried to move beneath me, but I pressed him back down, holding him there with just a look, my body hovering above his as I whispered, “Let me.”

His breath hitched, his hands stilling on my waist as he nodded, his eyes dark and filled with nothing but need. He was completely mine in that moment, and the feeling was electric.

Slowly, I lowered myself onto him, taking his entire length with one long, languid thrust. I began to move, letting the rhythm build between us, each motion deliberate, but this time, I wasn’t holding back. His hands tightened on my hips, guiding me as I set the pace, every sound he made spurring me on.

I didn’t think about anything except the feel of him. It was the not thinking I loved most, the not thinking that I never wanted to end.

“You’re incredible,” he breathed, his voice almost reverent as his eyes met mine, and the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine. “I can’t… get enough of you.”

The words sent a surge of heat through me, my movements becoming more urgent, more desperate, as the tension between us spiralled higher. His hands roamed over my body, tracing every curve, every line, and I could feel the restraint slipping from both of us, the heat between us burning hotter with each passing second.

I leaned down, letting my lips capture his again, this time deeper, my tongue sliding against his, claiming him just as he claimed me. His hands gripped my hips tighter, matching my pace as the intensity grew, our bodies completely in sync, every breath, every movement pushing us closer to the edge.

“Hank,” I gasped, my hands gripping his shoulders as I rocked against him, my body trembling with the intensity of it all.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice raw and full of promise. And then, with a swift movement, he sat up, pulling me with him so I was still straddling his lap. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close as his lips moved to my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. I gasped as he left soft love bites along my collarbone and down the side of my neck, his breath hot against my skin, each kiss, each bite sending a new wave of heat through me.

I gripped the back of his neck, my fingers digging into his skin as I arched into him, every nerve alight with sensation as his mouth worked its way across my skin, leaving a trail of pleasure in its wake.

The tension between us spiralled higher, my release building fast as my body tightened around him, the pleasure growing more intense with each second. His lips stayed on my neck, hands gripping my hips as he urged me to move, guiding me to grind harder against him. That added pressure sent me over the edge, and with one final push, I shattered, the pleasure crashing over me in waves.

Hank’s name escaped my lips in a broken whisper as I came undone above him, my body shaking with the force of my release, wave after wave, my mind completely lost in him. I felt him follow soon after, his grip tightening on my hips as he buried his face in the curve of my neck, his breath ragged and hot against my skin as his own release overtook him. His body tensed beneath me, and I could feel the shudder that went through him as we rode the high together, leaving me breathless and trembling in his arms.

For a moment, we just stayed like that, our bodies tangled together, our breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as we slowly came down from the high. His lips brushed my collarbone once more, softer this time, tender, before he leaned back, his eyes meeting mine.

“You…” he started, his voice hoarse, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I don’t have words.”

I smiled back, my own heart still racing, but this time, it wasn’t just from the intensity of the moment—it was from the way he looked at me, like I was something more. Something important. “Good,” I whispered, my voice just as raw, “I don’t need them.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest as his hands slid up my back, pulling me close once again. I curled up against him, my head resting on his chest as our breaths slowly synced. I could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath me, feel the warmth of his skin, and for the first time in a long time, I felt completely at peace.

And as we sat there, tangled together, I knew that whatever this was—whatever we were—it was only just beginning.

Masterlist

[melswifeasf]

Safest in your arms pt 10

previous chapter || next chapter || series page

Pairing: Georgia Miller x fem!oc

Summary: fall fest was supposed to be a fun activity for Samantha but it turned into nothing but a huge disappointment.

Warnings: (18+) MDNI, cursing, age gap relationship (18 and 30) grooming.

HALLOWEEN WAS THE BEST time of the year which all six friends could account for. they could dress slutty, get drunk and go to parties the whole weekend. it wasn't until their sophomore year they ditched the whole 'binge scary movies and stuff their faces with candy' deal and started going out instead. they had wanted to go to a party that night but none of them had planned a costume and Ellen had said she preferred her daughter to just go out on Saturday instead. Samantha didn't push it, it wasn't like her to do so.

the group of friends were in Matthews like most weekends. they were all sitting on the couch except for Natalie and Oliver who were on the floor like they had been last time they were there the last they were there. it was almost midnight and she thought by now she would be with a certain blonde but her friends were very persistent on her staying and she couldn't say no. even then that didn't stop her from texting her.

🍑 : are you gonna be at the festival

tomorrow?

S: prob? depends on if my friends

are going

S: are you?

🍑: i have to since Paul is running for

mayor again, he needs everyone in

the office with him.

S: does this mean Georgia Miller is

going to dress up?

🍑: i have to do that?

S: ofc you do, ur in the Mayors office

you kind of don't have a choice

🍑: does that mean your dressing up?

S: for the festival? no lmao.

S: i prob will later though, i think we're

going to some party

🍑: will i be able to see your costume?

S: i'll send pics;)

🍑: i'll be looking forward to it

🍑: what will your costume be?

S: idk tbh, we're all dressing up together

but they can't decide on what it should

whilst she waited for a response from the blonde she put her phone face down in her lap and turned her head to look at her friends. she was laying her head on Jades lap, her hair was being played with softly. Nia had Samanthas legs on her lap and Matthew was sitting beside the brunette with a respectable space between them. it was understandable that they wanted to keep things between them under wraps, especially considering they were still taking things slow and Oliver was overly protective when it came to Nia and her love life. she only ever had one boyfriend during her Junior year but it only last six months because Oliver would always try and scoot himself in between them. it wasn't fair, Nia never did that with him and Nat.

"i think we should go as nuns" Matthew said and looked up from his phone. they all laughed.

"the day i see you in a nun outfit will probably be the day that i die." Jade said with a chuckle.

"you putting that on would be an insult to nuns and i'm not even religious like that," Natalie said.

Matthew rolled his eyes, "okay i get it, i like sex." he shrugged. Samantha wondered if he was actually offended or if he was just acting like that because he always did. a part of her would believe he was offended, especially since the girl he currently had a thing with was sitting right beside him and listening to everything. although that shouldn't matter, Nia knew who Matthew was since the day they met and it's not like all of that knowledge would disappear now that they were figuring things out.

"more like you get around." Jade mumbled with a small chuckle making the girl in her lap slap her arm softly in warning.

"what about the avengers?" she proposed, trying her best to differ the conversation from him and to something else. "there's six of them so the numbers check out" she continued.

Oliver scrunched his nose, "i don't think any of us want to be hulk"

"or hawkeye" Nia mumbled.

Samantha sighed, "okay. any other ideas?" they had been going at it for a while now and it was starting to annoy everyone in the room. it was just hard, none of them wanted to pick something basic but there weren't that many group costumes, especially with six.

"we could all just wear purge masks" Natalie shrugged making both Samantha and Nia grimace.

"ew that's like super 2019. that is the most boring shit ever" she said shaking her head. Natalie sighed.

"okay then i don't know"

the room fell silent once more as they thought about more ideas. Matthew was on his phone searching for ideas but he seemed to be coming up with the same things over and over.

"what about toy story" Nia said making the raven girl point at her in agreement.

"i can be barbie. she's hot" she said earning a small smile from Jade.

"true." she agreed.

"holy shit," Oliver muttered making them all look at him in confusion. "Matthew and i could be Kens and you girls could be barbie." he proposed with a huge smile. that didn't sound like a bad idea at all, she doubted anyone else would think of doing that. it just surprised her that Oliver was the one to think about that over everyone else. she'd expect that from Nia or maybe even Jade but Oliver? that was something she never saw coming.

"why are you actually kind of a genius" Nia said matching her brothers grin.

"i think i'm more of a raquel though," Jade said, her lips twisted to the side as she was looking at the space in front of her in thought.

"i totally see that" Natalie nodded then gasped as she looked down at her boyfriend in excitement. "we could be Ken and Barbie from the Toy Story movie." she said happily.

Oliver's grin grew wider, "you're a genius babe" he said and the blonde shrugged sheepishly before she leaned down to press a soft kiss on the boys lips.

"i'll be howdy Ken," Matthew said, his lip curling into a smirk.

"valid, valid." Samantha nodded, "i never thought i'd see you in a cowboy costume and honestly i love that for you"

Nia frowned, "but then what would i be? i don't want to be in some horrid 80's work out jumpsuits" she said sadly.

"you could match with me" Matthew offered, his smirk gone and replaced with a small smile that everyone else in the room messed but Nia couldn't.

"yeah, you guys would look great." Natalie said to try and encourage her friend. they really needed to come to a conclusion so they could get the costumes the next morning.

"that just leaves you," Jade said looking down at Samantha.

"i'll be og barbie. you know, with the pink dress? god i'm gonna look so hot" she sighed out a bit dreamily causing them all to laugh.

"i sometimes forget how obsessed you are with yourself," Natalie chuckled.

"whatever, it's called self love." Samantha bit back and threw up her middle finger at everyone in the room.

they all started to talk about what they needed to buy which wasn't much since most of them already had clothes that could go with it. the only person who didn't was Natalie and Oliver because he needed a hawaiian shirt. Samantha figured her dad would have one though she offered to try and look for one for him. Samantha would just wear a pink dress that she already had and wear glittery eyeshadow along with pink heels to really seal the deal.

Samantha didn't feel her phone vibrate any more meaning Georgia hadn't texted her back. she tried not to overthink it, the blonde was probably asleep by now. it's not that she needed to talk to Georgia every minute of the day but the blonde had been a bit distant since the morning and she wondered if she did something wrong. the day that they hooked up Samantha and her stayed up another hour before the blonde grew tired and fell asleep, as soon as she did Samantha snuck out through the balcony. it was thankfully still slightly dark outside, the sun had just began to rise so it wasn't completely light outside. things were fine even the morning after, their dynamic didn't change but she was starting to wonder if the blonde had just now started to regret it, the reality of it all finally sinking in. the thought alone made her stomach hurt.

now that she knew what being with Georgia was like, life before her seemed so boring. nothing compared to the night they shared, the chemistry, the passion and overall it was just so fucking hot and every time she thought about it a light shade of pink would cross her features. her overthinking was cut short by Jade who locked her phone and threw it on the empty spot beside her.

"guess what i heard," she said a small smirk playing at her lips. everyone stopped to look at the girl, each of them just as confused, including Samantha who was looking at her with furrowed brows.

"what?" Oliver chuckled.

Jade looked down at Samantha, "Sophie Sanchez and your sister are talking." she said, her smirk never leaving.

"holy shit, are you for real?" Matthew laughed in slight amazement. Samantha didn't say anything as she waited for Jade to respond to him. there was no way Max was talking to someone - specifically someone she knew and wouldn't tell her. the thought alone hurt her feelings more than she thought it would.

Jade nodded, "yeah. i heard it from Kate. i think she even invited her to some party Brodie's throwing." she laughed and anyone who had common sense knew she was making fun of Max.

the raven haired girl didn't even care to comment on that. all she could think about was the fact that her sister was talking to someone and she didn't bother to loop her in. maybe she was a hypocrite considering she didn't tell the girl about her ex girlfriend but that was different, she couldn't tell Maxine because she knew it would ruin a lot of friendships and she didn't think it was fair for that to happen when all she wanted to do was to be happy. Maxine didn't have that problem, it's not like Samantha would get mad if she talked to Sophie. she just wished she was important enough in Maxs life to have been in the circle. maybe she was a shittier sister than she thought she was.

the girls mood had drastically changed and the only person who seemed to notice was Nia who began to rake her fingers through the girls hair. "you okay?" she asked softly, her eyebrows furrowed in worry.

Samantha shook her head as she tried to form a smile, "yeah." she whispered.

both of them knew she was lying.

the next day the group of friends all rode together to the festival. they had all gotten everything they needed for their costume and there was a while until they needed to get ready so they decided why not go. Natalie Oliver were still parking the car seeing as there wasn't any empty parking spaces so they dropped the four friends off before driving off to try and find a space. as soon as Nia and Jade saw that there was fresh apple cider they each broke away from Matthew and Samantha leaving them on their own. they were each waiting for the two girls near the face painting station where Samantha could clearly see her sister and her friends.

what she had heard yesterday was still fresh in her heart and seeing her sister only made it sting even more. she never thought she would be left in the shadows of her sisters life and yet here she was.

she wasn't the only one overthinking though. Matthew glanced at the shorter girl briefly, his heart was beating faster than usual which he had never felt before. why was he nervous? he only felt like this before games. he sighed, "can i ask you something?" he spoke up breaking Samanthas stare in her sisters direction and directing her sight toward him.

she had an idea of what he would be asking but nodded regardless, "what's up?"

"has Nia told you anything.. about us lately?" he asked a bit hesitantly, he paused to try and get the words out without seeming too n invested.

Samantha shook her head, "about what?" she asked feigning confusion. she didn't want to throw her friends under the bus like that, especially not with the literal guy she was crushing on.

Matthew looked at her with 'seriously' look on his face. "you're her best friend and she hasn't said anything? i don't believe you" he said and crossed his arms against his chest.

the raven girl rolled her eyes, "if you already knew the answer then why'd you ask."

Matthew shrugged, "i want you to be honest."

"she has."

"what did she say?" he quickly responded.

Samantha looked at him with raised brows, not at all used to seeing him this desperate. "just that you guys talked during Sophomore sleepover." she said honestly. they hadn't really spoken since and she assumed it was because they were taking things slow.

Matthew nodded, his face turning so he was looking in front of him and not directly at the shorter girl. "that's it?"

"did you want her to tell me something else?"

he shook his head. "i just.. i know she likes me and all but i don't know if she would want to actually go on a date with me." he said scratching the back of his neck nervously.

Samantha's expression softened, she now understood that it wasn't just one of his usual conquest, he actually care for Nia. "i think she'd say yes"

"really?" he asked his head snapped back toward the girl. she nodded with a gentle smile.

"yeah."

the boy couldn't contain his smile so he turned back around, "okay" he confirmed. neither of them could continue their conversation considering the sole topic of it was walking toward them with a cup in hand. she was laughing at something Jade had said and Samantha didn't miss the way the boys eyes shinned at the sight. she loved them together.

the brunette and Jade approached them, each holding a cup of cider. "want some?" Nia offered Samantha as she held her cup out but Samantha shook her head.

"im good. thanks though." she said earning a smile from the brunette as she went back to talking with Jade.

soon enough Oliver and Natalie were walking toward them hand in hand, once they were caught up with the group they walked around a bit to see what they could do. there were some activities which they participated in which really just means Oliver and Matthew would compete with one another. they spent half an hour carving a pumpkin which both looked equally as bad, none of them had the heart to tell them that though. that thankfully didn't last long since they all went toward the stage when they heard Paul begin to announce who had won the decoration competition. they all knew who the winner was even before so it was really pointless.

Samantha could see Georgia up on the stage, their eyes met for a second, each of them sharing a smile before the blonde turned to talk to her coworker. the six teens were in the crowd, half of them whispering to each other whilst Nia and Matthew were watching Samantha and the blonde exchange small glances.

"bootylicious really takes the whole costume thing seriously." Matthew said with a small smirk knowing the name he called her would annoy her.

he was right, the raven girl rolled her eyes at him. "shut up" she mumbled making both Nia and Matthew glance at one another in amusement. she looked so hopelessly in love and yet couldn't see that herself.

"best window decoration," Paul announced, a small card being pointed at him so he could read off of it. he was wearing a suit that was unbuttoned to reveal a super man costume, he was even wearing a black wig and glasses to complete the look. "goes to.. Liz Chavez" he finished earning an applause from the crowd. they watched as a trophy was brought up to Paul before her gave it away to the winner. "winner of best apple pie," Cynthia which isn't a surprise at all. "to the surprise of no one, goes to Cynthia Fuller." as they all expected. everyone began to clap once more but neither Samantha nor her friends did.

"bitch," Jade muttered under her breath making them all laugh.

"careful, the witch might hear." Matthew quickly whispered before turning back toward the front so they could watch the red head take a picture with the mayor. Samantha saw the small and cold interaction between her and Georgia when she grabbed the trophy from the blondes hand. that made a smile form on her lips, she loved that about Georgia. the camera snapped a quick picture and the redhead pulled away from the mayor and behind him on the stage.

"and now a very exciting announcement from the mayors office. we are going to be renovating the Wellsbury public library." cheers erupted from the crowd once more, even from the six teens who were glad they were finally going to do something different in the town.

not everyone had the same reaction though, Cynthia walked back up toward the front of the stage clearly upset with what she had just heard. "but the library is one of the most historic buildings." she said.

"exactly. this is why it deserves upkeep." Paul nodded. "we're gonna be adding a third floor. we are going—"

he was quickly interrupted by the red head who sounded even more upset, "upkeep? sounds like your plan is to depreciate a beloved landmark." she said in a condescending tone then reached over to snatch the mic causing it to make a slight squeaking sound making everyone cringe.

"fuck." Samantha muttered knowing whatever was going down wouldn't be good.

"what Wellsbury deserves is a mayor with a vested interest in preserving that standards in this town. i mean, first the drugs, now the library. where does it stop?" she said. cameras were snapping pictures repeatedly, each of them wanting the hot new story for the day.

"bitch needs to get laid," Nia joked earnings snickers from the group.

"someone get her a broom so she can fly away." Oliver added making his girlfriend shove him softly, not able to contain her amusement at his words.

"green gardens actually allowed us to have a surplus that far exceeds—"

"i saw Mayor Randolph last night on a date." she interrupted him, talking louder to drown his words out. murmurs erupted in the crowd causing her to nod, "yes. with his assistant" she confessed pointing at the blonde in accusation.

the crowd fell silent at her words just like Samantha felt her stomach drop, her before amused expression replaced with a blank expression. the three oblivious teens began to whisper their surprise whilst Nia and Matthew looked at their friend worriedly. they glanced at one another, each of them trying to have a silent conversation so try and figure out what to do.

Samantha's eyes locked with Georgia who looked nothing short of regretful but she quickly looked away, turning her attention to Paul making that horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach intensify. this was why she had been super distant they day before. she probably couldn't find the balls to tell her that she wanted to end things then. it shouldn't even matter, they aren't even together but that didn't take away the absolute pain she was feeling in her chest. was this what all of her one night stands felt when she didn't talk to them anymore? was this her karma?

she chuckled softly, her head shaking in disbelief. she felt stupid for ever thinking her and Georgia could be anything but a simple fuck.

"let's go." she said dryly, not even turning to look at her friends as she began to walk away from the crowd. not even Cynthia making a skeptical of herself could make her feel better and all she wanted was to get that horrible feeling out of her body and never have to talk to Georgia again. the pettiness of her words didn't matter to her, she didn't care that it had only been two months since they met, or that they only had sex once and that they never agreed to be exclusive. it was the fact that Georgia didn't tell her, the fact that she kept her in the dark and even texted her asking if she would be able to see her after she went to the halloween party because Ginny would be out til late. did she think she could just keep her little date a secret?

no, fuck her.

none of them questioned her as they walked to Oliver's car, at least not until they were actually in it. "why'd we leave? i wanted to get my face painted." Oliver said when he began to pull out of the parking space. his words earned him a slap in the back of his head from his sister who was sitting directly in the seat beside him.

"ouch, what the fuck?" he said his hand rubbing the impact to try and soothe the pain. Nia shot her brother a look through the rear view mirror which cause him to shut up a second later. Samantha wasn't paying attention to Jade and Natalie who looked extremely confused by the whole situation.

thankfully Matthew was the one who solved the problem which meant more to Samantha then she could ever really express. "Sam was having an attack." he lied. well, it wasn't a complete lie, she was having a sort of anxiety attack but it didn't have to do with the crowd around her.

"are you okay?" Jade asked quickly after, she turned her head to look at her friend with worried eyes.

Samantha nodded softly, "i'm good. i just didnt take my meds today." which also wasn't a lie. since she stayed the night at Matthews she didn't have her pills. she was planning on taking them before going to the party since she wasn't planning on drinking, the idea of driving to Georgias house drunk was incredibly irresponsible but that wasn't the case anymore and she was starting to regret it. in fact the only thing that could make her feel better at this point would be blacking out so she didn't have to think about her shitty love life. funny how she went from not having one just a month ago and now it was more complicated than ever.

[johnwickb1tsch]

A Walk in the Clouds/Don John crossover outline that's turning into a fic Part 5 ~

Paul Sutton x fem!Reader x Don John triangle

You grow up at Las Nubes vineyard, and have to go home to your dying father. You take your fake new husband, Sgt Paul Sutton, with you... Warnings: His Hotness don John being a bully 🙃 <----Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 chapter map

-Life moves at its own pace at Las Nubes. True, it is a vineyard, but it is also a working farm, a self-reliant symbiosis of the land, the beasts, and the men and women who tend them. There are sheep and chickens and pigs and of course, the pride of the land owning Californio: horses. There is always something to be done, when you are not tending your father, so when the chance comes at the siesta break you pounce on it to write a little in your diary. Everyone else is asleep, or at least resting during the hottest part of the day, and its almost as though you have the place to yourself by the duck pond in the shade of the courtyard. You throw them little morsels of stale bread, smiling at the happy way they wag their tails and mutter as they nibble. 

The hens enjoy themselves, at least, until the drake decides yet again that it’s time to bestow his special attentions. There is one hen in particular he favors, and you wince as it looks more like he’s trying to drown her than make love. The poor thing has a little bald patch on the back of her head from him biting her to hold on as he rides her. 

“Leave her alone,” you say, poking at him with a stick to dislodge him from the poor girl. She shakes it off and goes back to her bread. He makes his complaints to you, but retreats to the far side of the fountain. 

“Poor bastard. You didn’t even let him finish.” 

You jump a little at the sound of don Juan’s voice, not having expected to see anyone around. Warily you watch him as he takes the seat next to yours, his long legs sprawled out before him. He wipes his face with a handkerchief; he’s been doing something in the fields, perhaps, or out with his prized stallion. He seems tired, but content; whatever chore he labored at must have gone well. 

“He’s too much of a pest,” you say. “He needs to be sent to the cook pot.” 

Juan smirks over at you. “But then where will my ducklings come from?”

You make a sound between your teeth at that, and he goes on, “I like him. He is exactly what God made him. He does not have to apologize for it.”

It’s true, that he’s a handsome fellow, with his iridescent emerald green head and the proud curl of his drake feathers on his behind. “He looks like pato asado to me.”  

“You would take his life?” poses Juan, clearly enjoying playing the foil. He was always like this, even when you were children. Always taking the opposing side, for the sake of being contrary. “For being a man of passions?”

“For hurting his females for the sake of indulging his passions. He’s supposed to protect them.”

“Ah, well. Everything comes with a price.” 

You look over at don Juan, devastatingly handsome, even in a dusty work shirt open at the collar, his long legs encased to the knee in well-worn leather boots. Once you might have sold your soul, to possess this man for yourself. 

Now you realize, some prices are too high. 

“What do you want, Juan?” you ask cautiously. You can tell that strangely he’s in one of his more playful moods. That doesn’t mean you’re safe by half.

“Just to talk.”

“About?”

He leans in across the table, his dark eyes raking over you. You hate it, how that still gives you such a guilty thrill. “I have a proposition that may interest you.”

“Is this a proposition you would not like my husband to overhear?”

Now it is he who makes the frustrated hiss between his sharp teeth, sneering. “Come off it. You are no more married to that man than I am the Pope.” 

“Señor, how you offend me.” 

He narrows his eyes to slits, but a smirk pulls at the corner of his proud lips. He is enjoying himself–and that worries you. “I understand you, y/n, better than you think.”

You’re afraid that might be true.

“Oh?”

“I have always known you have a heart not easily tamed. Perhaps it is why I have always loved you.”

“Juan…”

“Marry me, y/n. Be the mistress of this place. Of your own destiny. I will give you your room with your typewriter in the tower, overlooking this.” He holds his arms wide, encompassing the entirety of Las Nubes. “There is no better view, no better place to be on this Earth. Your only master shall be me.”

Many things can be said of don Juan. If there is something you know he does truly love, it is Las Nubes. He is a man of this land, and you understand he truly cannot fathom wanting to be anywhere else. 

Then, you realize that he must have been spying on you and Paul in the pool that night, and that maybe he really does know everything. 

Once, being crowned reina of this estate might have been your fondest dream, something so far out of your grasp there was never any sense in even thinking of it in the light of day. Now…you know that binding yourself to Juan would be like offering your ankle up for a gilded ball and chain. 

He would destroy you, little by little. Maybe not even maliciously, but in spite of himself. He is what he is, and you are what you are. 

It would be war. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you say, tracing a finger over the edge of your little diary, unable to meet his burning eyes while your heart beats too fast in your throat. “I’m already married, and you are engaged.”

“To some girl I’ve never met, two-thousand miles away? What is she to me, but a dowry? We don’t need it. The harvest was generous; the land blesses us as always. We take care of Las Nubes, and she takes care of us.”

You can feel his eyes boring into you, and it sends an uneasy thrill down your spine.   

“I’m sorry, señor. You’re too late. Don’t marry her if it displeases you. But you must find yourself a different bride–I am taken.”

You physically feel the change in the air, as his jovial bonhomie shifts to blackness, like a thunderhead looming. Yet somehow it surprises you when he moves like lightning, snatching you up in his unforgiving arms, his grip on your wrists bruising. “WIllful girl. I offer you this highest honor, and you throw it back in my face? I will prove that you are lying to me,” he tells you, his voice low in your ear. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your fear. “And then, I will claim what is mine.” 

“Let go of me.”

“What if I don’t?” he demands, delighted by the thought of a fight. You can see the spark in his eyes. Despite his anger; this is fun for him, and you know a marriage to this man would never know peace. He would terrorize you for nothing if not his own amusement. Maybe he would give you a room in the tower–but its more likely he would lock you in it. 

“Y/n?” Again, Paul rides to your rescue, approaching from somewhere beyond the wall. 

Before you can answer this time, don Juan presses his mouth to yours in a punishing kiss, your teeth clashing in his furious bid to claim you. This time, he remembers to retreat before you can bite him too, releasing you so abruptly you fall back into your chair. With a dramatic sweep of his arm he knocks your diary into the fountain before stalking away on those long legs. “How clumsy of me!”

You shriek, diving for the little book. 

That is how Paul finds you, on your knees by the water, crying over your inked words now obliterated. 

“Y/n?” He falls to his knees beside you, at first not understanding, searching you for injury. “Are you alright?”

You hold up the little book, half the pages now more resembling a watercolor painting. “It’s ruined.” 

“Oh.” He frowns, not wanting to belittle this thing that clearly distresses you, but not understanding nonetheless. “Can’t you…write it again?”

You know you’ll never be able to recreate exactly what you’d put down there. You won’t be able to remember what you wrote, in the throes of feverish inspiration, the manic fugue of the cosmic muse whispering through your writing hand. 

Amidst your own daily musings, you’ve been writing a story about a spirited young lady who meets a handsome veteran on a bus. 

You shake your head, crestfallen, and Paul’s frown darkens for you. 

“What happened?”

You don’t know if he saw the tailend of don Juan turning the corner before he made the scene, but a part of you fears that if you tell on the master there will be a fight. “I dropped it,” you say meekly. 

For a moment, you can tell he wants to argue, but because he’s a better man than anyone here, he lets it go. “Ok, sweetheart. Let’s go see if we can get it dried out.”

You are beginning to see this miraculous thing about Paul. When you are dead set that a thing is doomed, he still finds hope. Although you’re mostly certain the diary is ruined, you still feel better returning to your room with his arm around your shoulders. 

Maybe you can rewrite it after all.  

[l0stfoster]

Paul anon here !! Its been a hot minute (like 3 days) and i fear i must return and ask things

- Does anyone ever find out Paul’s related to the person who cursed tulsa ??? Is that like a big deal or is that smth that everyone just goes “damn”.

- Idk if this has been like covered or answered but whats everyone’s lifespans ?? Is it the same as normal humans or are any of them different?

- Btw timewing your little one shot ate up so bad i need more about post-jumping plz just cuz overprotective darry makes me crazy 🫶🫶 i love yalls writing so bad

- Parry wedding hcs please 🫶

- can we also just get like some angsty parry stuff plzzz

I literally cannot rmbr anything else i wanted to ask i had stuff but my brain is fried from life okay thats all 🫶🫶

Ah yes, the talk of the town returns. Welcome back we were waiting very patiently >:)

Grasping your questions in my hands, you fuel the entirety of my writing habits at this point.

Does anyone ever find out Paul’s related to the person who cursed Tulsa??? Is that a big deal or is that smth that everyone just goes “damn”.

- The gang finds out about it over time, Darry being the first and everyone finding out progressively. They don't mind, if anything it's a little interesting to be friendly with the guy who's directly related to that. I can imagine Pony and his active imagination wondering if Paul could do similar magic to what was used to make the curse. It's a little intimidating because god damn that also helps people realize how powerful Paul COULD be. (Darry's also the only person who catches onto the fact that Paul's direct relation is why he feels so much guilt over the curse) - The socs don't find out,, for a few reasons. Think about it, this curse over Tulsa is looked down upon by the socs, they could argue that it's ruined their way of life having to deal with these things- and then they find out it was one of their own who contributed to it. They've already proven how far they're willing to go, and they'd likely hold a VERY similar thought process that Paul has. "If the bloodline ends, then maybe the curse will break." - To put it simply; if word got out to the socs, Paul would be LUCKY if he survived the next time he got jumped. Hell, he'd be lucky if someone could even find his body; humans are cruel. - Shitty doodle from last night but here's how the Paul art is going.

Idk if this has been covered or answered but what's everyone’s lifespans ?? Is it the same as normal humans or are any of them different?

- Lifespans for the Cursed follow human lifespans, with some minor differences. - Fae are functionally immortal (do remember that immortal does NOT equal invincible) and I think harpies have slightly lower life spans; most live to their 70s or 80s. Their bones are fragile as it is, and they get weaker as they grow- most elder harpies' lives are at risk if they fall even once.

Btw timewing your little one-shot ate up so bad I need more about post-jumping plz just cuz overprotective Darry makes me crazy 🫶🫶 i love your writing so bad

- Timewing was very hyped about you mentioning them, as they should be. - There will be more overprotective Darry to come, I'm very insane for him and so is Time so it's only a matter of when we get to chatting about them.

Parry wedding hcs please 🫶

- Paul and Darry elope; Paul doesn’t like big events or celebrations as is and Darry would stress the fuck out over the cost. - They just go to a courthouse, sign whatever papers (idgaf if it wouldn’t work like that because gay marriage wasn’t legal), forget to tell the gang, and then proceed to be like "Oh we got married" when someone (Two-Bit prolly) says "When's the wedding" as a joke - The gang is more upset that they didn’t get to throw a bachelor party, and Soda’s mad he didn’t get to be the flower girl /silly - They both have their own ways of going about marriage spells/rituals for both witch culture and fae culture. Paul’s witch marriage stuff is more physical (tying an anointed cord around their wrists- physically tying the knot); Darry’s is more spiritual. - Paul accidentally magic binds them. He needed Darry to use his magic for something relating to his ritual and they tied. Paul, later realizing he can feel when Darry is in danger/stressed/using his own magic: Shit Paul: Paul: Dar how would you feel abt eloping Darry: What - The second Paul suggests eloping Darry’s on board giggling. Timewing feels that the way Darry’s would work since it’s more spiritual, he’d press their foreheads together, hand over Paul’s heart, and say a sort of prayer in fae. - Paul’s chill the entire time but the second he actually registers what just happened he starts sobbing LMAO. Darry thinks he did something wrong ‘cause Paul is NOT a crier. He’s got anxiety god bless. - They can’t get gayer chat.

Can we also just get like some angsty parry stuff plzzz

- I think it goes without saying that the second blood ritual was a powerhouse for angst. Darry thinks his boyfriend was trying to fucking kill himself— and to an extent, Paul can’t even say otherwise because look at it; how do you explain that? - They both have a lot of doubts regarding their relationship with one another; Darry doesn't think it's authentic and Paul's walking on eggshells because he doesn't know if one wrong move will destroy everything he tried so hard to get back. - They still have issues regarding their roles as a greaser/soc; Paul's still adapting to life on the East side, so there are a lot of little things the greasers do that he doesn't understand. The same goes with Darry and Paul's more soc-aligned behavior. - They don't fight much but when they do it usually ends with days of silent treatments from both sides before the gang forces them to talk it out, as both of them are awfully miserable without each other. - Technically not Parry itself but Paul being kicked out and losing the financial support from his parents meant he had to drop out of college. Shit was heartbreaking, both for Paul and Darry bc he was really hoping he'd get to see Paul achieve what they both had wanted.

[margindoodles2407]

Fellas is it wrong to feel less holy for wanting to get married instead of entering religious life. Asking for a friend

In all seriousness. I just... I mean, half the people who know me think I'm going to enter the convent. And I love the religious life! It's a beautiful and noble vocation and I commend and love all the women who have given their lives so fully and completely to God!

But... it hurts me a little, that people think that I have to become a sister because I love the Lord. As if I'm too holy and pure to do anything else. I kind of feel put on a pedestal, and an undeserved pedestal, because I am- to use my favorite expression of St Paul's- the foremost of sinners. I have so many problems. I'm violent and proud and lose my temper too easily, my prayer life is atrocious, and I don't really want to get into it here, but I've had a huge, lifelong struggle and battle against lust that with God's help it looks like I am finally getting over. And I am working on it, and I am offering my broken, sinful self to the Lord and striving to change! To be holier and more patient and kinder and humbler and more chaste and more prayerful and, in a word, more Christ-like! Because that's truly what I want!

But I don't necessarily want that in a convent.

Ever since I was little, the deepest desire of my heart has been to be a mother and a wife. I remember preschool career day, everyone else came in wearing their firefighter and doctor and veterinarian costumes... and I came in, wearing casual clothes and with my baby doll bundled to my chest in a miniature baby carrier my grandma had made specially for the occasion. Maybe it's something about me being the oldest of so many siblings. Maybe it's the fact that my own mother is such an amazing role model. But that's what I truly want, and it's what I have wanted for so many years, and I genuinely think it's what God's been preparing me for my whole life.

But everywhere I go, everyone I've turned to, all I seem to be met with is "You'd make such a good Sister!" or, "So, when are you entering the convent?" or, "Have you ever thought of entering [x] religious order?" with the exception of my own family. And it's led to a lot of stressing over my own vocation, because I'm a very naturally scrupulous person, and so ever since I was, like, eleven years old I've worked myself into the mentality of "I so want to get married to an amazing, wonderful man and have amazing, wonderful children. But what if that's not what God wants for me? I mean, we are called to sacrifice, aren't we? And I'm sure that if I spent enough time in the cloister I could learn to love it. But it's really not what I want. But does what I want matter? Maybe I'm just being selfish. Maybe this is my big test, and I need to give up my own selfish desire for a husband and a family. I'm so afraid that I'm not doing God's will." And so on and so forth.

And it doesn't help that... I've never once been pursued romantically. This is both a blessing and a curse. I get it, I'm young, I've got years to go before I get married, and in today's dating world over half of the hypothetical boys who would ask me out I'd have to politely turn down for various reasons. But it just kind of adds to that whole feeling of me being untouchable, too good and holy and pure for any prospective suitor to soil by attempting to win my favor, and unfortunately... it's kind of gotten to the point where I feel unlovable. Like no one will ever want me like that, like maybe I have no choice but to head behind the grille.

And to make matters worse, there is a boy. He's kind, he's funny, he's courteous and chivalrous and handsome and, most importantly, devout. On fire for his faith. And he shares so many interests with me- we met over the summer and quite literally bonded over our shared love of Zelda and Star Wars. He's an artist, like myself (he draws and writes and plays music) and appreciates the value of beauty in the same way I do. He's also one of my only not-online friends I feel completely and totally secure talking about my faith with, which is the most important thing because in my other friendships I almost always feel spiritually stifled in some way. I am not kidding when I say that he is exactly the man I always prayed for. And, after a very long time of not having a crush, I fell fast and hard. And I can picture us together, I can see us being married and raising children and helping our family get to Heaven together. I can see us growing old together, and having our fights and squabbles but always, through God's grace, coming back more in love than ever. He is one of my best friends and we talk almost every day, and I know that a relationship with him would lead me truly closer to God.

The problem is: he lives pretty far away. We're in the same state, but it's still a three-hour drive. And I have no idea if he feels the same way, because I'd rather have a long-distance friendship that is Godly and holy and whole and lasts for years even if it never leads to anything more, than a long-distance relationship that fizzles out within months and strains the friendship we did once have. To make matters worse, we've talked about vocations and marriage and stuff before (we actually met at summer camp, and our little friend group talked about this kind of thing often), and it turns out that he experiences that phenomenon that seems to be found most heavily concentrated in teenage Catholic populations where there's this amazing incredible Godly young man that every Catholic girl who knows him ends up falling head over heels for. Now, he doesn't play into that (did I mention he's amazing and incredible and Godly), but... there are so many other girls that he could choose, and none of them live three hours away.

I don't know. I just needed to vent, I guess.

TL;DR: I am tired of marriage being seen as lesser than or sub-optimal to religious life, I am tired of always feeling like I need to enter a convent in order to please the Lord, I am tired of being constantly on the verge of a spiritual breakdown over trying to discern my vocation at the tender age of [redacted], and I am tired of feeling like no one will ever want me, except maybe the first guy I've ever been able to actually envision a life with but who lives three hours away and has plenty of admirers besides me.

[enderwolf91]

☆彡彡 A New Start ミミ☆

synopsis: life has become dull working your office job, unable to go out and enjoy yourself anymore. upon opening a letter your grandfather left to you after his passing, you find yourself on a bus to a new life, hoping to find that spark you so craved for in life.

word count: ~2.6 k

warnings: none!

notes: rewrite of this. the first part to (hopefully) a good series. this is the first fic I've written for an audience in a long time, and I want to put a lot of effort into each chapter, so I apologize if updates to this are slow. I also apologize if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes, English isn't my strongest subject despite speaking it my entire life lol. Enjoy!

“Three more? I just got done with the two you gave me yesterday!”

“I'm just here to give you your assignments, if you have problems take ‘em to the boss, Daniel.”

A loud scoff comes from the other side of the cubicle's wall, the sound of papers being taken with an aggravated force. “Whatever…”

A few moments later, a short figure takes up the opening to your cubicle, a man you're unfortunately familiar with as he holds out two Manilla folders with a bored expression. “Your next assignments for the week.” He speaks as if on the verge of yawning, casually glancing around the small, gray box at the minor number of decorations taped to the walls.

“Thanks, Paul,” you respond, less than enthralled to see more folders to join the stack on your desk. “I'll get started on them tomorrow morning.”

Turning back to your computer, the lines of words and numbers on the document you've been writing have started blurring together. But the looming presence still in the doorway of the cubicle draws you back to Paul, who's still looking around at the papers and photos you've taped up and the cliche cat poster the company gifted everyone last year that's started to wear and tear at the edges.

“Is there… something I can help you with, Paul?” You question him, biting back a grimace as his ears turn a light red as he finally looks at you.

“Hm? Oh! Actually, yeah, I wanted to ask if you were free tonight? There's a… bar nearby if you want to get drinks after work?” He fidgets with the stack of folders in his arms, shifting from one foot to the other as he can't seem to meet your eye.

It's the third time he's asked this month.

“Paul…” You sigh, “I appreciate the invitation… but I can't. There's stuff I need to finish by the end of the week, and with more work being piled on top of that. I just- I don't have time to go out.”

The disappointment is evident in Paul's expression as he gives a tight-lipped smile, “right. I'll… let you get back to work then.”

“Yeah…” You drift off, slowly turning back to your computer as Paul shuffles to the next cubicle, his voice notably less energetic than before.

Sighing, you go back to typing away on your computer, the hours of the work day passing by without you. Though, your own words keep echoing in your mind and distract you from work.

I don't have time to go out.

It's an unfortunately true statement. Ever since you got this corporate job for Joja Mart, you just haven't had time to spend on anything else. Oftentimes staying late at the office to finish a report, or taking the work home when the janitors eventually had to lock up the building for the night. Though the mountain of work does come with a generous pay, enough to pay for your rent and groceries and then some. Money saved up for the off chance you did get time to go out, go to the mall or a bar, but that day has yet to come.

Fortunately, the company graced you with some paid vacation time for your hard work, allowing you to fly back home for your grandfather's funeral. Long expected but still unfortunate, he was somehow always the optimist, telling everyone around strive for a long life like he had, strive for a happy life like he lived.

And while he gave everyone else in the family small trinkets and heirlooms, you received an envelope with your name written on it and a small note.

‘Open when you want a new start’

The envelope sat heavy in your bag on the trip back, and now sits waiting in the top drawer of your desk, your curiosity of what's inside still hot on your mind as you pull open the drawer.

The envelope sits atop a stack of graphs and old papers, a crimson red seal plastered to the front with an unfamiliar emblem, a sort of peace sign looking symbol you've never seen before.

The note written above the seal calls out to you, ‘a new start’ drawing your curiosity out even more as you pick up the envelope. Using your office scissors, you carefully open the envelope and pull out the paper folded inside.

Seeing the handwritten makes you smile softly, the neat print your grandfather seemed to have perfected being a bit shaky and smudged from his old age.

‘So, my dear, you want to start anew, huh? A change of scenery? Fortunately, I didn't leave you with just a silly old letter while the others got gifts. I own a plot of land in Pelican Town that I'm leaving to you. It's an old farm I used to live on when I was about your age and moved away from home, needing a change in scenery. Take good care of the place for me, will ya? The residents of the town knew me well, I'm sure they'll be happy to hear you're coming to town. The number at the bottom will call an old friend of mine, let him know you're on the way and he'll take care of you. With love, your old pa

Jack: xxx-xxx-xxxx’

It was a stretch, moving to a town that was over a seven hour bus ride away, packing up all your belongings from your apartment and saying goodbye to the company that's paid your monthly living expenses for the past few years; all to live on a farm that would become your only source of income, selling the fruits of your labor and not knowing anyone in town.

The bus wasn't as comfortable as you were hoping, but you could lay across the row of seats since there weren't many other people, and no one who was on the same journey as you're on. It was nice watching the world go by in the comfortable silence of the bus.

The bustle of the city and slowness of the traffic opened up to calm suburbs and residential areas, a park passing by every so often with children and dogs running around with parents watching over them; which all faded to the quiet of the countryside, rolling hills of grass and the occasional spotting of trees, it was then you drifted off to sleep to the lull of the bus driving and lack of bright lights.

The next time your eyes open, you're still driving and now you're going through a mountainous area. There's a few people on the bus again, all sticking to themselves until the bus stops at a town, though not the one you're going to as the doors close and the bus driver heads back onto the road.

It's only when you go through a tunnel and pop out the other side you start to feel like you're getting close. The scenery is starting to clear and open up more, and just as you look out the window you drive past a sign signaling the next stop to be Pelican Town.

Seeing the sign sends a jolt through you, realization of what you're doing settling in as you look down at your luggage stuffed under the seat. It dawns on you, you just threw away the security of the life you had to move a day away from anyone you knew and potentially lose everything you have, all because you couldn't stand your office job anymore.

“Pelican Town,” the bus driver's voice shocks you to focus, seeing you've stopped at a bus stop with the town's welcome sign outside.

“Right… thanks,” anxiety crawls through you as you grab your bags, giving the driver a nice tip before stepping off the bus with a shaky breath.

And before you can change your mind, the doors close behind you and the bus is taking off again. Without you.

Looking around, the bus stop is nice, unexpectedly away from the main town. Instead it's in a nice fenced area, a few trees, benches, and a paved path leading out of the area. It looked more like a rest stop than the entrance to a town.

Even more to your surprise, a voice calls out to you from the paved path. “Hey! I knew I heard the bus come by, you must be Samuel's grandkid, right?”

A tall woman approaches you with a kind smile, her white locks pulled back into a tight ponytail as she brushes off the sleeves of her dark green jacket.

“Uhm… yeah, I am,” you nod shyly, tightening your grasp on your bag as the woman greets you up close.

“I'm Sojourn. Jack said you'd be coming to town soon. C'mon, I'll show you to your grandpa's old place.”

Without saying much, you follow Sojourn down the path, taking a right at the fork and following until you see another fence up ahead and a large cabin-like home comes into view.

“Here it is,” Sojourn hums, opening the gate onto the property. “It's seen some better days, or years, but it's all yours now.”

Your eyes are wide as you take in the plot of land. Trees are everywhere, though not dense enough to make it a forest, weeds and miscellaneous plants fill the ground and leave little room to move around. Large logs and fallen over trees and rocks litter about the area. A large pond near the gate is filled with lily pads and overgrown roots, but would make a nice place for fish to live in once cleaned up.

The only part the seemed to be taken care of was the small area near the gate and house, clear of bushes and weeds and any overgrowth.

“We took some time fixing up the house for you, though most of the old furniture was rotten and broken down so we had to get rid of it,” Sojourn explains. “But, we got you a new bed, dining table, fixed up the fuse box and got you a new TV. It's only the essentials, but we didn't want you left with nothing on your first night.”

“Wow…” You can't help but stare up at the house, seeing it's bigger than your childhood home. “Did… Grandpa build this place?”

“From the ground up, though he had some help,” a man comes out of the house, the door swinging fully open. You recognize his voice as Jack's from when you called him a week ago, the night you had opened the envelope. Jack closes the door behind him, before properly greeting you with a warm smile. “Good to meet you, kid. After I heard what happened with Sam, I hoped he mentioned this place to someone, or at least sold it to someone so it didn't go to waste. Glad to see he kept it in the family though.”

“I don't think anyone in our family knew about this place,” you admit, unable to recall any stories about a farm from your grandfather.

“Sounds likely,” Jack chuckles. “Old coop didn't tell us he had kids, let alone grandkids, until he was too old to make the trip out here. Got his letters about your entire family about a year ago.”

“That's when Jack wanted to start cleaning up this place,” Sojourn adds. “Kept coming out here by himself and disappearing all day. Found him out here all tuckered out from pulling weeds and decided to help him out.”

Jack sighs, looking across the plot of land, “don't know how he took care of this place by himself. Took us a year to just freshen up this much. But he had rows of crops planted year round, and had everything nice and organized. Too bad the old barn and coops all rotted away, the greenhouse took plenty of weather damage too.”

The thought makes a weight sink in your stomach, the anxiety of your situation surfacing again, the realization of your new life coming to light.

Just as you start to look around in a panic, a warm hand lands on your shoulder, Sojourn speaking with a sincere kindness, “if you need help with anything, don't hesitate to ask. Once you've settled into the house, we can introduce you to some people in town who can help spruce this place up. I'm sure Satya and Zarya wouldn't mind planning out a new chicken coop and barn for the future.”

“Torbjorn can take a look at Sam’s old tools and fix them up for you too,” Jack adds with a nod. You look between them, names going over your head as you focus on the fact that there's an entire town of people your grandfather knew, yet never mentioned to your family

“Why don't you settle in for now, get used to the place, work on the landscape if you feel ready for it,” Sojourn suggests to you, realizing you're still carrying your luggage, and have yet to see inside your new home.

“There's a box with some farming supplies inside. For now, don't worry about paying for food, stop by the general store or the tavern whenever you need to eat. Once you start growing crops, you can sell them to the general store to start your income. Just know, you gotta work to get paid, just like your grandpa did. So work hard on your farm, kid,” Jack rubs the top of your head, ruffling your hair up before he leaves with Sojourn, letting you go inside to settle into your new life.

The moment you go inside, you drop your bags and fall back on to the bed, thankful for how soft it is as you sink into the covers. The strain of sitting and laying on a bus seat for so long puts a strain on your spine, the pain easing away as you stare up at the ceiling, contemplating what to do next.

You'd never worked on a farm before, let alone ran one on your own. You had some experience in taking care of plants thanks to your mother and her backyard garden, and your grandfather used to let you watch him make things in his garage, he had shown you how to use his power tools and how to put together pieces of wood. You had the knowledge of what to do, but not the experience enough to make it your lifestyle, your new way of living.

It seemed that had to change then.

Sitting up, you look around the open space, finding the box of supplies Jack had talked about. Inside of it you find old tools; an ax, hoe, watering can, and pickaxe; a large bag of fertilizer, and packets of parsnip seeds.

It's a start, and you manage to carry the supplies outside to the open patch of land in front of the house.

Getting a hold on the tools was a bit awkward to get used to, and having to dig through the lily pads to fill the watering can was a close call to falling into the pond, but by the time the sun began to set you stand in front of a plot of planted seeds, all watered and fertilized to grow fast and well.

And the first call of an owl makes you slouch and yawn, already feeling sore from the extensive physical activity you haven't experienced since taking your old office job. Barely conscious as you shower and change into pajamas, you slide into the new bed, feeling like heaven under your exerted body, the blanket providing a warm comfort as you easily drift off to the sounds of nighttime bugs and critters.

[transmascxielian]

its MY tumblr blog and i get to painstakingly write out an animatic i'll never make. SO ive got a heaven official's blessing piano man animatic in mind and i just can't shake it

ages ago i was listening and came up with this stupid concept just for the sake of funniness where i was imagining it as xie lian singing, mu qing and feng xin passive-aggressively going back and forth at each other with piano and harmonica respectively, hua cheng backing xl with the accordion, and shi qingxuan playing the lyre/mandolin in the background. and that was it for the longest time and was just a joke. but then i listened again and now have accidentally associated the lines with everyone

'he says 'son can you play me a memory? i'm not really sure how it goes, but it's sad and it's sweet and i knew it complete, when i wore a younger man's clothes''-- this is fairly nebulous because i don't know enough about him (sorry!) but this just makes me think of mei nianqing.

'now john at the bar is a friend of mine, who gets me my drinks for free, and he's quick with a joke or to light up your smoke, but there's someplace that he'd rather be'-- shi qingxuan. their whole feeling of lost potential. 'he says 'bill i believe this is killing me', as the smile ran away from his face, 'well i'm sure that i could be a movie star, if i could get out of this place'' once again. you're there and you have a role and youre good at your role. but can't shake the feeling that you could do so much more.

'now paul is a real estate novelist who never had time for a wife, and he's talking with davey who's still in the navy, and probably will be for life'-- this may be a little bit gauche but pei ming and shi wudu. pei ming's fuckboy reputation which may or may not be a front for just not having enough energy to give to one person. and the navy -> sea association aside, spending time with the other person there who can't commit. and they both definitely fucked but regardless of that this brings us onto

'and the waitress is practising politics as the businessmen slowly get stoned, yes they're sharing a drink they call loneliness, but it's better than drinking alone'-- ling wen. reduced to serving the other gods despite being more than capable (or perhaps because she's more than capable) intellectually. finding escapism from this place she's put in through others who are similarly disregarded in a sense based on reputation. the three tumours as three people who bonded initially only out of having nobody else really to turn to.

'it's a pretty good crowd for a saturday, and the manager gives me a smile, cause he knows that it's me they've been coming to see to forget about life for a while'-- jun wu, and how xie lian is such an emblematic figure for better or worse, representing everything idealistic and perfect about the heavens, and in the end being such a figurehead (and, when needed, an easy punching bag) that everything wrong with his heavens goes unnoticed for so long.

'and the piano, it sounds like a carnival, and the microphone smells like beer, and they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar and say 'man, what are you doing here?''-- hua cheng, watching and waiting for him the whole time. giving xie lian support and sustenance in everything he does for the heavens, and never telling him to leave, but wondering the whole time why he does all this for a system that doesn't deserve him. loving him enough to let him live by his own choices, but loving him too much to not be eaten up by watching him do this and receive nothing in response.

this is by no means perfect nor the best character analysis/song application. and it does bug me that nothing stood out to me to be right for mu qing and feng xin (i think about the xianle quartet a lot.) but i had such a vivid feel for everyone i mentioned here that they didn't feel right for the song. anyway if you've read all of this i love you and please talk to me about tgcf

[guardian-angle22]

911: Lone Star | Paul Strickland in 5.01

[modern-day-bard]

Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction

Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 25: Visuals

ao3 | wattpad

word count: 3.6k

Gwen

Twice.

A few minutes later, it’s three times.

I know I’m staring, and he knows it too. In the past few minutes alone, we’ve made eye contact three—well, now four, times. But if I don’t keep it together, everyone else in the room will realize it. Best case scenario, they think I’m disinterested in the budget for the possible expansion to three of our stations on the West Coast. Which would be, I think, completely understandable. Even Julian has stifled a few yawns in the past two hours. Worst case scenario, someone calls me out for eye-fucking my bodyguard in public.

He wore the leather jacket to the office today, my own personal form of torture and he doesn’t even know it. As if I needed any more reasons to have flashbacks all day long.

I don’t think I’ve ever actually enjoyed doing that with a man before. I’ve faked the enthusiasm, given them the doe-eyes, and pretended that there was nothing else I’d rather do. That was the first night in my life that there was literally nothing else I’d rather do. And unlike before, he insisted he take care of me afterwards, and also unlike before, I declined. All I wanted was to make him feel good, to show him that he is deserving of all things positive and pleasurable. Of course it turned me on to see the veins straining in his hands clutching onto the sheets, and to hear him lose his mind from my touch. But the thought of doing anything for myself afterward was somewhere too far away to fathom. As long as Joel enjoyed himself, I did too.

That part I was going to keep to myself for a while. Or at least, far away from Nyah. Or Harper and Landon for that matter. I barely know what I’m feeling, and trying to explain that out loud would just make them more excited before I even know how to handle it. Plus there is the logistical and ethical nightmare of the fact that he is employed by my father, and he is supposed to be protecting me. And he is. He’s just making me feel…a lot while doing so.

“Do we think that’s a realistic timeline?” Carter, one of the junior data analysts, asks Julian. I at least turn my head to feign diligence.

Julian nods slowly, looking through the blueprint in front of him. “It will be tight, but we knew that…” He continues, but I can feel Joel watching me again through the glass. I risk one more glance upward, and the man is smirking at me now. Bastard.

I push my thighs together underneath the table, returning my gaze back to Julian.

One more painful hour later, and we’re done. I was itching to be alone with Joel again, but Julian follows us all the way back to my office, discussing tomorrow’s calendar on the way. When we stop outside my door, I get the urge to ask him. “Do you know what Paul’s schedule is like tomorrow?”

Julian thinks for a moment. “No, but his assistant would be able to answer. Why?”

Because I don’t want to be involved in radio longer than I have to be.

“I had a few questions for him. No biggie. Thanks, Julian.” I give him a smile before walking around to the other side of my desk, and he takes the hint to leave.

Joel hovers by the door.

“Yes, Mr. Miller?” I unbutton my blazer to take a seat, making a show out of crossing my legs.

He smirks at me again, and a rare jolt of nerves runs down my spine as he walks in and closes the door.

“Do you want lunch first, or the bad news first?” He asks.

I sigh. “Bad news, please.”

“Arthur and Janet called during your last meeting. The news is breaking today, probably in just a few hours for online publications. They’re doing a few other celebrity gossip releases at the same time. It will hopefully steer people away from your case.” He watches my face carefully for my reaction, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel anymore. Instead, a new thought pops into my head.

“Do you think the publication will…encourage the stalker in any kind of way?”

Joel mulls it over, running a hand down his face the way he always seems to in times of stress. “I don’t think so, but it’s impossible to know. Some of these guys would be scared back into the shadows after a release like that. Others might…”

He pauses for so long that I’m afraid he won’t finish the thought.

“Might what, Joel?”

“They might derive some sort of pleasure from the whole thing. The article mentions that you moved residences, and I think that’s the worst thing they can put in there. I can see some asshole somewhere being pleased with himself that he’s made a large enough impression for you to leave your home.”

“Wouldn’t he just be focused on finding me again?”

“Probably. But it would start with the feeling of success, that you know who he is now, in his eyes.”

“I wish I knew who he was,” I mumble.

“You and I both.” His rigid posture and agitated tone tells me everything I need to know about what might happen to the stalker if Joel ever found him.

My phone buzzes and I look down to see a text from Nyah, only to notice that it’s past five o’clock.

I raise an eyebrow at Joel. “You’re asking about lunch and it's almost dinner time?”

“You never ate lunch,” he eyes an unopened salad container on my desk. “I brought it to you and it was still untouched when we left for the budget meeting. Thought you could use the reminder.”

I glare at him despite the butterflies in my stomach. “You weren't hired to be a detective.”

“I’ve done several things I wasn’t hired to do.” His eyes are playful, his voice low…

I need to keep it together. In this building, at least. In my new apartment building, however…that’s fair game.

My phone buzzes yet again from Nyah.

“Is it the story?” He asks as if he wasn’t just alluding to our incredibly unprofessional escapades.

“No, it’s Nyah.” I pick it up, swiping the messages open. “She’s asking about Paris. I’m assuming it’s sort of out of the question now that the story will break, though.”

I start to type as Joel asks, “Do you want to go?”

Huh.

I hadn’t actually thought about what I wanted. “It sounds fun. Nyah has wanted to work with Andre Bacri for the longest time. It would be great to get the chance to cheer her on…”

“So, let’s go.”

He says it like we were, in fact, just talking about lunch.

“What?” I chuckle a little, but he’s serious.

“Time away from the city wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. Most stalkers like this most likely won’t have the means to follow you across the world. And, I’m no public relations expert, but a couple of pictures of you out and about as if nothing happened might help the press.”

I blanch at him.

“You—the most overprotective man on the planet—think Paris is a good idea?”

A small smile tugs on his lips. “Not overprotective. Just protective,” he lowers his voice, taking another step toward my desk even though the door is still closed. “If I remember correctly, you yourself told me to guard your body.”

I hate how much of an effect this man has on me. My complexion, my breathing, my thoughts... And I hate how much I don’t want it to stop.

“Do you want to go?” He asks again, reveling in my silence.

“Yes, I would like to go.” I straighten up in my chair, determined not to get further distracted by how impossibly broad his shoulders look at this angle.

“Okay. I’ll run it by Janet to make sure it won’t do any harm.”

“Thanks, Joel.” I say it the way I would to anyone else, leaning over to power up my computer. But his name alone is enough for him to linger a moment longer, eyes drifting a little lower than what could be classified as appropriate.

With his hand on the doorknob, he asks, “Anything else I can do for you, Gwen?”

“Not at the moment, no,” My eyes flick over to him with a challenge, “Maybe later tonight. I’ll let you know.”

“I’m at your service.” He doesn’t miss a beat, which only makes me hate him more.

I start emailing Paul’s assistant before Joel has finished closing the door.

I liked Julian and the rest of the team, but I don’t have an interest in the radio part of the company. Ideally, I would be training directly underneath my father. I did for a summer or two, but in light of recent events, that privilege has been revoked. I know that it’s a long-shot for him to allow me to work for either the Russell Foundation or my mother’s foundation, also in light of recent events. Particularly those that are better kept under wraps. But from what I know, I’m wondering if I can use it as leverage. At the very least, if it’s not my mother’s charity, maybe he will be willing to put me under the Russell Foundation.

That’s where Paul comes in. If I can talk Paul into allowing me to work under him as one of the board members for Russell’s Corporation’s philanthropic side, I can bypass my father altogether. I know that he likes basketball and wasn’t able to score season passes this year, and I also know that my father hardly ever uses his box at Madison Square Garden. I just have to hope Paul isn’t above bribery. With this crowd, it's likely that he isn’t.

After checking a few more things off my list, I take another look at my phone to see several missed messages. Skimming through, Harper had someone over last night and she desperately wanted to reenact how bizarre they behaved. She was promising that only in person would do it justice.

I feel my heart clench, remembering that in a matter of hours all of the stalker information will be public knowledge. Public knowledge that my friends weren’t privy of, and will undoubtedly hear about it from a random source instead of their friend. Part of me wants to believe that whatever celebrity gossip Janet and her team are cooking up will bury my information so deep that my friends won’t hear of it. But I’ve been doing too much wishful thinking lately. They need to hear it from me directly, and soon.

- - -

To my surprise, Joel didn’t fight me when I said I wanted to go to Harper’s apartment. I had prepared a small defensive speech about how we can take a winding way home, not that Rodney and him wouldn’t have planned that anyway, but I didn’t need it. All I said was that I think they need to hear it from me, and he agreed. I was even more surprised when we arrived, he did a sweep of the place, and agreed to wait just outside.

All four of our faces were still dumbfounded even after he closed the door.

“How much did you pay him for that?” Landon jokes, taking a seat by Harper’s large bay window.

“I guess it’s pro bono.” I sit on one of the floor cushions across from them. “So, Harper, tell us about last night.” I gesture for Nyah and her to walk over and join us, but Harper shakes her head.

“I have to show you guys what happened in the bedroom. Well, I guess I can start here.” She’s bouncing up on her tiptoes in excitement.

Nyah takes a seat next to me, leaning into my side. Harper starts in the kitchen, saying that her overnight guest took a look through her fridge before running a hand along the wall, looking for…

“Your wifi, maybe?” Landon offers.

“Or maybe she was just admiring your exposed brick?” asks Nyah skeptically.

“I don’t know but it was weird. She wasn’t shy, but she spent all this time in the front of the apartment, looking at my walls and stuff. I mean, thanks to Lands, I’ve got some killer art so—”

“That’s probably why,” they wink.

“Exactly. But, anyway, we’re on the couch and I thought we were going to get to it, but then she starts asking about all my plants.”

“You do have a lot of plants. More since the last time I was here, actually,” I say. Harper’s apartment was absolutely stunning with its eclectic, bohemian charm. Even the beams above us had vines of some sort running through them, so that question, at least, wasn’t that unusual.

“You need plants in an oasis,” she says like it’s a cardinal rule, “But anyway, we’re kissing and stuff but every time I go to do a little more, she pulls away. So, I’m like okay, she’s not into it. That’s fine. But then she gets up and just walks upstairs without saying anything. Turns on all the lights, and I just hear her walking around up there.”

“Maybe that was her way of saying ‘let’s take it to the bedroom.’” Nyah drops her voice to a sultry level for the last part.

“I followed her, obviously. And she was pacing around like she meant business. I would have thought it was coke or something but I’d been with her most of the night.”

“Remember that guy last year who paced before and after sex?” I muse.

“Oh my god, yes! Except this woman, Layla, was pacing in between rooms. At least that guy kept it to one space. She kept commenting on the apartment, which was nice but I was just super confused.”

“So you guys didn’t hook up?” Landon asks.

“No, we did,” Harper grins, “Come on, that’s what I want to show you.”

The three of us exchange a look before following her up the stairs. The next ten minutes is Harper physically acting out last night’s affairs that went from the hallway, to the bedroom, to the shower. Besides the pacing, and what Harper described as staring into each windowsill, the two of them seemed to have a pretty good time.

“And, she left as soon as we were done.”

“Is that weird too?” Nyah watches Harper flop down on the bed.

“I guess not. Usually it’s guys who want to leave right away, sometimes girls do, but I don’t know. She was quite a bit older, so maybe the rules are different. I just thought the pacing and checking and questions were so weird. But I didn’t even get her number so the mystery will remain unsolved.” Harper sits up, slapping her hands on her legs. I take that as our cue to go back downstairs, but Landon puts their hands up.

“Wait. This might be easier to discuss up here.”

I give them a curious look.

“Speaking of good sex…” their eyes land on me. I wait, wondering if I can play it off.

“You and Elijah…?” I circle one hand over the other, thinking that might be where they’re going with it.

“Well, obviously. But I’m talking about you.”

My gut fully drops now.

“Oo! With who?” Harper turns to lay on her stomach, her feet kicking in the air behind her.

“Who do you think? The bodyguard she can never stop complaining about.”

“What?” I gasp, turning whirling on Nyah. “You told them?”

Nyah’s eyes grow wide and she shakes her head, but before she can say anything, Harper and Landon chime in simultaneously.

“Told us what?”

“There’s something to tell?”

Oh shit.

Nyah didn’t say anything. I should have known.

I sigh, sitting down on the edge of Harper’s bed. “I was going to tell you all sooner. And technically, it wasn’t sex, sex. I called Nye the morning after it happened, but there was some other stuff I found out right after, the reason I had to cancel. And everything became too much and—”

“Gwen, it’s okay.” Landon’s voice is careful now. “I was just teasing. Tell us whatever you want to tell us.”

“I really was going to tell you both, it’s just hard to find time away from him. And he probably doesn't want anyone to know. He told me he’s never been with a client before. I can’t imagine it’s usually encouraged.” I laugh lightly and both Nyah and Landon take a seat in front of me.

“If it’s any consolation, I can just always tell when you’ve had sex. It was a lucky guess that it was Joel.” Landon says softly.

“Lucky guess, and the fact that we all know he’s damn good looking,” Harper smiles, nudging my shoulder. “So, what’s the issue?”

I tell them everything. Even though I know it will worry Harper, and for that reason I’m glad I can’t see her face unless I crane my neck. I tell them about the gifts, the messages, the breaking of the windows, the lie about the fumigation and why I switched apartments, the background checks of my team, the fact that they aren’t allowed to know where I’m staying now. I don’t go into all the details about Joel and me, mostly because I’m too embarrassed to admit I asked him to stay. But I tell them that he did stay in my room at home with me, and that he’s been staying in my new room since we moved in. When I’m done, I take a big breath, and finally feel a relief wash over me that I haven’t felt in a long time. Not all my secrets were out, but having a few less on my shoulders was a good start.

We sit in silence for a few minutes before Nyah speaks up.

“When will the story break?”

I shrug. “Probably in the next hour or two if it hasn’t already.”

She grabs my hand and squeezes it. “I’m sorry, Gwen. I knew there were weirdos online but this is a completely different level.”

Harper hugs my shoulders from behind me. “I’m sorry, too.” After a beat she adds, “But I’m also super proud of you for sleeping with Joel.”

All of us burst out into laughter. “What?” I ask, still giggling.

“That’s not what I mean! I mean, I’m proud of you for hooking up with him, sure. But you’re letting him in. Even a little! And I think that’s great.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m still smiling. “Yes, well, we’ll see. It’s not exactly an ethical relationship.”

“You told me he tried telling you that and you kept refuting everything he said.” Nyah raises a brow at me, and I whack her lightly.

“Whatever! He was…we were…It made sense at the time.”

“Are you going to do it again?” Landon asks.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if he’ll want to.”

This time, the three of them are the ones exchanging looks.

“What?”

Landon speaks slowly, delicately. “It’s…the way he looks at you. I get it, all bodyguards have to watch their clients, but—he’s clearly infatuated with you.”

I can feel my heart rate pick up, but I shake my head. “Infatuation doesn’t mean anything.”

“Even if you look at him the same way?” They still say it gently, but it feels like a harsh slap of vulnerability. Like someone had seen the things I conceal even from myself, polished them, and placed them on a table in front of me. I’m not ready to face that reflection just yet.

“I tell you guys I have a stalker and this is what we’re talking about?” I try to laugh it off, and tonight, they let me. They have me go over a few more of the details, and Harper pulls out her phone to go through my comments. The thought of finding someone who writes similar comments to the gift notes is good and all, but there’s too many of them. And the notes were too short to really grasp onto anything.

“What did you do when you thought someone had broken in?” Nyah asks, concern etched on her perfect features.

“I grabbed a bookend and I went out to help Joel.”

“What?” Harper screeches. “You could have been killed!”

“I know, I know. I was just thinking that it could be like four guys against just him and I was picturing him getting hurt, unable to call for help and…” My voice catches slightly on the memory, and I clear my throat as quickly as I can.

Three pairs of shocked eyes are resting on me.

“What?” Unfortunately, my voice still shakes a bit as I ask.

“Like I said,” Landon gives me a small smile, “You look at him the same way.”

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

[movingmusically]

Caught Feeling - Chapter 1, part 1

Summary: A reserved woman, craving something different, enters a bar and meets Hank, a confident bartender. As their connection deepens, she steps out of her usual quiet self, embracing a night that changes everything.

Note: This is the first writing I’ve ever posted, but after seeing the set pictures yesterday I had to get something down.

The truth is, I don’t really know what possessed me to walk into Paul’s tonight. I’m not the kind of person who normally does things like this—spontaneous, bold, risky. That’s never been me. Or at least, it hasn’t been me in a long time.

There was a time when I was more comfortable in my own skin, when my shyness didn’t feel like a weight. It used to be a part of me, something I accepted, something I lived with rather than fought against. I could be quiet and still feel confident, blending into the background but never doubting my worth. But somewhere along the way, that shifted. The quiet I once enjoyed now feels stifling. I’m constantly second-guessing myself, overthinking every little action, every word I say, as if there’s some invisible audience keeping score.

The world feels too loud, too fast, and I feel too small in it.

Lately, the silence of my own company has become less of a comfort and more of a reminder. A reminder that I’m stuck. That life is moving forward, and I’m standing still, watching everyone else go on without me. I can’t even remember the last time I did something that made me feel...alive. Not just existing from one day to the next but really feeling like I’m part of something—part of the world instead of just a spectator.

Tonight, it feels like I’ve reached some invisible limit. I can’t take another evening of staring at the same four walls, of flicking through channels without really watching, of pretending I’m okay with the monotony. Work drained me, as it always does, leaving me too exhausted to think but somehow too restless to sleep. My mind feels like it’s stuck in a loop, clogged with the same old worries that circle endlessly, without resolution. They’re small things—most of them, at least—but they pile up, weighing me down until I can barely breathe under their collective pressure.

Normally, I’d push through it, fall back into my routine because that’s what I do. I know the safe route; I’ve perfected it over time. But tonight, the routine felt unbearable. The thought of going home, of slipping back into the same old patterns—it made my chest tighten with the kind of dread I couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t that I had a plan, not really. I just knew I couldn’t face another night of nothingness.

So instead of walking home like I always do, I took a different path, literally. One foot in front of the other, the sidewalk unfamiliar beneath me as I moved further away from everything that felt safe and known. It wasn’t intentional, not at first. But the farther I walked, the more it felt like I was being pulled—by something I couldn’t name, some need inside me that I’ve been trying to ignore for too long.

And that’s how I ended up here, standing in front of Paul’s, the bar I’ve passed countless times but never once considered entering. It’s not my kind of place. Never has been. It’s gritty, loud, with an edge that feels too rough for someone like me. The kind of bar where everyone seems to know each other, where conversations are shared over sticky countertops and half-drunk glasses of whiskey. The regulars here probably have stories they’ve told a hundred times, stories about the kind of life I don’t live—the kind of life I always thought I didn’t want.

But maybe tonight, I don’t want to be the kind of person who always plays it safe, who blends into the background without ever leaving a mark. Maybe tonight, I need to be someone else. Someone who isn’t so afraid to take up space. Someone who doesn’t spend hours dissecting every interaction, every conversation, until the memory of it feels more like a mistake than a moment.

I step inside, and immediately, the atmosphere hits me like a wave. The smell of cigarette smoke clings to the air, mixing with the sharp scent of alcohol and something else I can’t quite place. It’s dimly lit, the kind of place where shadows linger in the corners, and the faces blur together unless you’re really looking. There’s a hum of conversation, the low murmur of voices blending with the occasional burst of laughter, creating a background noise that fills the space without overpowering it.

I don’t know why, but the second I cross the threshold, I feel the weight of the room shift. Not in any obvious way. It’s not like anyone stops what they’re doing to look at me—most people are too engrossed in their own lives, their own stories. But I feel it. I feel different, like I’ve stepped out of my usual world and into something unfamiliar, something that makes my nerves buzz just beneath the surface of my skin.

For a brief moment, I want to turn around, to leave before anyone even notices I’m here. That familiar urge to retreat, to go back to what I know, bubbles up inside me, threatening to overwhelm the tentative boldness that brought me here in the first place. But I don’t leave. I take a deep breath, hold it for a moment, and then force myself to stay. To move further into the bar, even though every part of me is screaming to turn back.

I make my way toward the bar, my steps feeling both too loud and too quiet at the same time. My eyes flick around, taking in the crowd, but not really seeing anyone. I feel exposed, out of place, but at the same time, there’s a strange comfort in knowing that no one is really paying attention to me. I can be invisible here if I want to be—and that’s fine. I’m not here to be noticed. I don’t need anyone to see me.

I just need a break—from my own head, from the endless loop of thoughts and worries that seem to follow me wherever I go. I don’t know what I’m hoping to find here, or if I’m even looking for anything at all. All I know is that tonight, I couldn’t go home. I needed to be somewhere different, somewhere unfamiliar, somewhere that wasn’t the same quiet, predictable space where my thoughts would close in on me again.

That’s when I see him.

He was positioned behind the bar, leaning casually against the counter with an ease that suggested he was in his element, practically part of the furniture. His blonde hair, tousled and slightly unkempt, peeked out from under a well-worn baseball cap, pulled down just enough to give him a hint of mystery, shadowing his piercing blue eyes. Those eyes caught mine with an intensity that felt almost tangible, sharp and probing, as if he could peel back the layers of anyone who happened to fall under his gaze.

For a brief moment, the thought of diverting my eyes flitted through my mind, a reflex to escape the unexpected vulnerability I felt under his scrutiny. But I didn’t look away. Instead, our eyes locked, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face—a smile that seemed to see right through to the nerves I was trying so hard to mask. He held my gaze for a beat too long, creating a moment charged with an unspoken challenge before he turned his attention back to the drinks he was pouring.

A stir of something unfamiliar fluttered inside me—a cocktail of nerves, curiosity, and an exhilarating sense of daring. This wasn't typically me; I was not one to flirt openly, especially with bartenders, nor to sit alone boldly in such a buzzing place. But tonight was different. Tonight, I felt drawn to the unknown, compelled to explore whatever this could lead to.

As I approached the bar, each step seemed amplified, my awareness heightened as if every movement was a statement of intent. I slid onto a stool, feeling the coolness of the leather through my jeans, and my presence seemed to draw his attention once more. The bottles behind him caught the soft lighting of the bar, casting a kaleidoscope of colours across the polished surface. The room was steeped in the smells of smoke and aged wood, enriched with a hint of something musky, almost intoxicating.

He glanced up as I settled in, his earlier smile returning, expectant, as if he had anticipated the challenge I was about to present.

“What’ll it be?” he asked, his voice a rough blend of warmth and rasp, perfectly echoing the raw, ambient energy of the bar.

Under normal circumstances, I’d have a standard order ready, something simple and unassuming, designed to blend in rather than stand out. But tonight, driven by a newfound audacity, I hesitated, meeting his gaze squarely. “Whatever you recommend,” I ventured, my voice more steady than I felt.

His eyebrow arched, clearly amused by my response, and his smirk widened, adding a playful edge to his already compelling demeanour. “You trust me to pick for you?”

I nodded, the gesture firm despite the fluttering in my stomach. “Yeah. Surprise me.”

He chuckled, a low sound that seemed to resonate with a hint of respect, or perhaps challenge. Shaking his head as if in disbelief at my daring, he reached for a bottle. “Alright, you asked for it.”

Watching him work was like observing a skilled artist; each movement was fluid and assured. He selected ingredients with precision, mixing them with a practiced hand that spoke of years behind the bar. As he prepared the drink, I found myself stealing glances, drawn to the confident way he navigated his domain.

He slid the drink across the bar with a smooth motion, and when his fingers brushed mine, a spark of electricity zipped through me, startling and vivid.

“Here you go,” he said, his tone light, that easy grin playing on his lips again. “Let me know what you think.”

I took a tentative sip, and the drink was a revelation—smooth with an undercurrent of complexity that mirrored the night itself. It warmed me, loosening the edges of my anxiety, coaxing a sense of openness I hadn’t felt upon walking in.

“Not bad,” I replied, my own smile a reflection of his, a silent acknowledgment of the small adventure I had embarked upon.

His eyes studied me, a flicker of intrigue passing through them. “Good to know,” he said, his voice tinged with a subtle warmth. He momentarily excused himself to attend to another customer, his movements efficient and practiced as he refilled a drink without missing a beat.

As he worked, the familiar atmosphere of the bar wrapped around us—a comfortable hum of background chatter mingled with the clink of glasses and the occasional cheer from patrons watching the baseball game on the television above. Adjusting his cap, he made his way back to where I was sitting, his approach marked by an easy, confident smile that seemed to pull the dim light of the bar towards him.

Normally, I’d be tongue-tied, fumbling for words, but here, with him, it felt different.

“So, you come here often?” I asked, aiming for light-hearted but cringing a bit at the cliché.

He chuckled, a light, engaging sound that drew a grin from me. “I guess you could say that. I work here most nights. Name’s Hank, by the way,” he introduced himself, extending a hand across the bar.

Hank. It suited him perfectly—strong, straightforward, with just the right amount of rugged charm.

“I’m—” I began, ready to offer my own name, but just then, a regular at the end of the bar caught Hank’s attention, loudly requesting help with the jukebox that was stubbornly refusing to accept their money. Hank shot me a quick, conspiratorial smile that promised he’d return, and then he was off, his stride confident as he navigated the crowded space.

I watched him as he worked, noting the way his shoulders rolled with each movement, the casual confidence in his stride. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, something that drew the eye and held it. It wasn’t just his looks—though those certainly didn’t hurt—it was the way he seemed so completely at ease in his environment, as if he were as much a fixture of the bar as the shelves of liquor behind him.

As he adjusted the jukebox, his eyes occasionally flicked to the small television mounted above the bar. The San Francisco Giants were playing, and it was clear from his intermittent nods and muttered comments to another patron that he was following the game.

When he returned, the noise level in the bar had dropped a bit, and he leaned in slightly to resume our conversation. “Big Giants fan?” I asked, gesturing towards his hat and the screen above us.

"Definitely," Hank said, his smile broadening. "I played a ton in high school back in California, but a bad leg break sidelined me for good. Now, I never miss a game, it helps keep the spirit alive."

“From baseball player to master mixologist,” I observed, noting the transition from his past interests to his current profession. “Looks like you’ve got it all figured out.”

He let out a soft chuckle, a hint of irony flickering in his eyes. “Something like that,” he replied with a slight shrug. “Though life always has a few surprises up its sleeve, doesn’t it?”

As the evening unfolded, the bar had thinned out, not nearly as busy as when I first arrived, but still lively enough to keep Hank moving between customers. Between sharing a laugh, or tossing a rag over his shoulder with casual grace, his eyes would inevitably return, as though drawn by some unspoken pull. Each time he approached, it felt like we were continuing a conversation that had never really stopped, even if words weren’t always exchanged. It was more about his presence—the way he leaned in slightly, his focus making it seem like nothing else in the room mattered.

The warmth of the alcohol settled into me, quieting my usual reservations. It wasn’t enough to cloud my thoughts—I was still fully aware—but it gave me a newfound confidence. With each passing moment, the initial unease melted away, replaced by a comfortable rhythm between us.

“So, what brings you to Paul’s tonight? You don’t exactly blend in with the usual crowd here,” Hank inquired after a while, his tone casual but curious, his eyes searching mine for something deeper than the surface-level chit-chat.

I hesitated, the question more profound than I had anticipated sharing with a near-stranger. Yet, something about Hank’s straightforwardness, underscored by the honest curiosity in his eyes, made me want to open up.

I shrugged, glancing around. “Just needed a change of scenery, I guess. This isn’t exactly my usual kind of place.”

He chuckled, leaning against the bar, his blue eyes flicking up to the TV screen for a moment where the end credits of the game were rolling. “Yeah, I kind of figured. You’ve got that look—like you’re used to being somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else like… where?” I asked, curious what he saw in me.

He paused, his gaze momentarily drifting off as if visualising the answer, then locked back onto me with a reflective expression. “I dunno. A café, maybe? Somewhere quiet. You strike me as someone who appreciates peace.”

I smiled, touched by his perceptiveness. “You’re not wrong. I’m definitely more of a coffee shop girl than a bar regular.”

Hank’s eyes twinkled with a mixture of curiosity and amusement as he leaned in a bit, resting his chin on his hand, studying me as if he was putting together a puzzle. “Let me guess,” he started, his voice lowering to a warm, playful tone, “you’ve got that favourite little corner spot, don’t you? Always tucked away with a book or maybe a notebook for doodling or jotting down your thoughts. And I bet you drink your coffee black, no distractions—just you and your thoughts.”

The accuracy of his assumptions made me burst into laughter, more open and genuine than I expected in such a setting. “Okay, you’re close,” I conceded, still chuckling. “But, I do take a little sugar with my coffee—just a touch to sweeten the deal.”

His laughter joined mine, creating a light, easy atmosphere that seemed to set the tone for whatever was to come. “Noted,” he said, with a mock-serious nod. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

The lighthearted moment briefly subsided as he posed a more thoughtful question, his tone lowering to a gentle, inviting rumble. “So, what’s got you stepping out of your coffee shop comfort zone tonight?”

Glancing down at my glass, the swirl of liquid momentarily mesmerising, I acknowledged the underlying current of vulnerability. Yet, there was an ease in Hank’s presence that coaxed the words from me more freely than I expected. “I don’t know... I just didn’t want to be alone tonight. Work’s been overwhelming, I guess I just needed a break from myself for a while. From the routine, the quiet. You ever feel that way?”

Hank’s response was a nod, his eyes softening with a deep understanding. “Yeah, more than you’d think.” Curiosity piqued, I found myself more drawn to him, seeing him not only in his role here but as someone who genuinely understood the struggles people go through. “What about you? You seem like the kind of guy who’s seen it all here. What keeps you coming back?”

“The people, I guess,” he said thoughtfully, his eyes meeting mine again. “Everyone who walks in has their own story, their own reason for being here. I like that—it’s unpredictable. I can be part of the background or something more, depending on the night. Tonight feels different, though.”

“Different how?” I asked, my voice quieter now, the conversation shifting as his attention became more focused.

“Maybe it’s you,” he said, his tone teasing but his gaze serious. “You stand out. You’re not trying to blend in, like most people who come in here to disappear for a bit.”

I felt a shiver run through me, even though his words were light. “I wasn’t really planning on standing out,” I admitted, my voice softer now, a little shy.

He folded his arms on the bar, leaning in just a touch closer. The subtle intimacy of the gesture didn’t go unnoticed. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

I felt my cheeks warm, surprised at how much I liked hearing that. “Yeah… me too,” I said, smiling just enough to let him know I meant it.

He smiled back, his voice dropping lower. “Sometimes, stepping into something unfamiliar is exactly what we need to remind ourselves what we’ve been missing.”

There was a brief pause, comfortable yet charged with an unspoken acknowledgment of the connection forming between us. “And what do you think I’ve been missing?”

He leaned in, closing the space between us. “Maybe something real. Something that pulls you out of the everyday.”

I held his gaze, my heart racing a little faster now. “Maybe I am.”

“Well,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, “you’re not alone in that.”

The air between us thickened, charged with an undeniable pull. Even in the quiet, there was no mistaking the connection forming between us—raw, real, and electric.

The last patrons trickled out, and the bar lights dimmed slightly, signalling the end of the night. The soft glow cast shadows that only made the space feel more intimate. A slow, soulful tune from the jukebox filled the room, amplifying the closeness between us.

Hank leaned in a little more, his hands idly wiping down the already spotless counter, though his attention was fully on me. The air around us felt thick with unspoken anticipation, a magnetic pull that neither of us could ignore.

"You’ve definitely changed the vibe in here tonight," Hank murmured, his voice a low, warm rumble that seemed to match the mood of the room. “Doesn’t happen often.”

I felt a flush of heat rise to my cheeks but found myself leaning in too, letting the moment take over. "Is that your way of saying you hope I come back?" I asked, my tone playful, though beneath it, there was something bolder, something daring.

A slow smile spread across his face, one that made my pulse quicken. “I’m definitely saying that. You’ve made tonight... different. And I like it.”

The room felt smaller, as though it was just the two of us, the rest of the world fading into the background. Our eyes locked, the tension between us humming with an intensity that felt almost tangible. Neither of us moved to break it.

Hank leaned a little closer. There was a question forming on his lips, one that seemed to dance in his eyes as he paused, giving the moment the weight it deserved.

His gaze flicked to the back door, then back to me, and I could see the question in his eyes before he said it. “You wanna get out of here?” His voice was low, the words hanging in the air between us like a challenge.

The invitation was clear, laden with possibilities and the thrill of continuing whatever was unfolding between us outside the confines of the bar walls. I blinked, my heart skipping a beat. Normally, I would hesitate, tangled in self-doubt and over-analysis. But tonight felt different. It felt like a return to an older version of myself—I took a deep breath, embracing the liberating shift, and met Hank's gaze with a quiet nod.

"Yeah," I said softly, "I do."

Hank nodded, a knowing smile spreading across his face as he moved towards the employees-only door at the far end of the bar. He gestured for me to come closer to where the bar ended, and I walked towards him, my heart pounding in my ears.

As I reached the end of the bar, I found myself separated from him by a pane of glass that partitioned off the employees’ area. Above Hank, the neon “BAR” sign bathed him in an ethereal glow, casting dramatic shadows across his features, highlighting the contours of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes, and the gentle curve of his full lips. He reached up to unlock the door from his side, his eyes locked on mine.

Our hands met through the glass, fingertips aligning in a moment charged with anticipation. The cool surface couldn’t lessen the warmth that radiated from his touch. With a soft click, he swung the door open, diminishing the barrier between us.

“After you,” he said, his voice low and inviting. I moved around the partition, stepping into his world behind the bar for the first time. There was an intimate thrill to being on his side, close enough to share his space.

Together, we walked towards the back of the bar, where a heavy door led to the alley outside. As Hank pushed it open the cool night air hit my skin, but it did little to cool the fire that had been burning between us all night. The alley behind the bar was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the walls, but I barely noticed. All I could focus on was him—the way his broad shoulders moved, the way his hands flexed at his sides as if he was holding himself back.

We stopped just outside the door, and before I had time to second-guess myself, he turned to me, stepping in close. The space between us disappeared in an instant, and I felt his hand at my waist, pulling me gently but firmly against him. My breath caught in my throat, and for a split second, all I could do was look up into those mesmerising blue eyes, my heart pounding in my chest.

Then he kissed me.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. His lips crashed against mine, urgent and hungry, like he’d been waiting all night for this moment. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer as his mouth moved against mine, and I kissed him back just as fiercely, my fingers instinctively finding their way to the base of his skull. His hair was soft, curling around my fingers as I tangled my hands in it, pulling him closer.

He let out a low, guttural sound, the kind of sound that sent shivers down my spine and made my knees weak. His hands slid up my back, his fingers digging into my skin as he pressed me against the brick wall behind us. The roughness of the wall was a stark contrast to the heat of his body, and I arched into him, wanting—needing—to be closer.

As he kissed me deeper, the sensation was overwhelming—like a storm that obliterates everything else, leaving only a beautiful, blissful blankness in its wake. It blew my mind how everything inside me cast into darkness, every worry dissolving in the heat of his touch. What a relief it was, not having to think anymore.

My hands stayed tangled in his hair, pulling him down harder as his lips trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jawline.

This wasn’t me. This wasn’t the shy, quiet girl who kept to herself, who avoided risks. But right now, with Hank’s body pressed against mine, his lips on my skin, I didn’t care. All I cared about was him, the way he made me feel—alive, bold, free.

And I wasn’t about to stop.

His breath was hot against my skin as his lips moved lower, trailing down my neck, and I could feel every nerve in my body igniting. I tugged at his hair again, just enough to pull him back to my mouth, and when our lips met, the kiss was even more intense—desperate, as if we both knew this moment was everything we had been building up to all night.

I could feel his body press harder against mine, his hands roaming over my waist, my hips, pulling me even closer as though the small space between us was unbearable. My back hit the rough surface of the brick wall again, but the discomfort only heightened the sensation. The world outside the alley faded away—there were no more sounds from the bar, no distant cars, just the pounding of our hearts and the shared heat between us.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, and he rested his forehead against mine, his blue eyes searching my face in the dim light. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire.

I swallowed, my breath still catching in my throat. “I think I do,” I whispered back, unable to stop the smile that tugged at my lips.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “I thought I had you all figured out, but… you keep surprising me.”

“I’m surprising myself,” I admitted, my fingers still tangled in his hair, feeling the warmth of his scalp beneath my touch. “But I like it.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me fully, his gaze softening for a moment, as if he was trying to read me—trying to make sure I was still in control, still wanting this as much as he did. And I was. More than I’d ever imagined.

“What now?” His voice was a little quieter, a little less hurried, but still laced with that same intensity.

I didn’t need to think about it. I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his again, this time slower, more deliberate, savouring the feel of him, the taste of his mouth. “I don’t want this to stop,” I whispered between kisses, my hands sliding down to grip his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles as he held back.

He groaned softly against my lips, his hands gripping my hips tighter. “It doesn’t have to.”

The way he said it, so sure, made my heart race even faster. We were in an alley behind a bar, but in this moment, it didn’t matter. Nothing felt rushed or wrong. It felt like exactly where we were supposed to be. Like I had finally stepped into a part of myself I’d been avoiding for too long. And with him, it felt… right.

The intensity between us burned hotter, and soon, his hands were back on my waist, sliding under my shirt, his fingers grazing the skin there in a way that made me gasp. I could feel the roughness of the brick wall behind me, but all I could focus on was him—his touch, his breath, the way he seemed just as lost in this as I was.

But there was something else too, a sense of grounding I hadn’t expected. He wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t pushing. He was waiting, following my lead, giving me the space to feel, to take in every second of this. And I knew, in that moment, that whatever happened next, it was because we both wanted it. Because we were both ready for it.

And as the world around us continued to disappear, the night taking over, I knew that whatever came next—whether it lasted for just this night or beyond—it would be the best decision I’d ever made.

Part 2

[igotanidea]

Selflessness : Matt Murdock x fem!reader pt 1

Request: Ages ago (I'm so, so, sorry) @somest1 gave me an idea: in her free time from law school(*) reader does kind of volunteering - helping people in the church under the guidance of Matt's mom. Season 3 where he is healing in the church, so she basically helps him, but doesn't know who he is.

I changed it a bit and decided to divide it into parts (probably up to 3 or 4) but the main idea stays unchanged. Once again, I'm sorry and hope you enjoy it :)

***

„I’ve taken care of the kids in the room 6, sister Maggie. They seem unruly, but to tell the truth all they need is some care and attention.”

“Thank you, Y/N. You are a saint.” Sister Maggie Grace smiled lightly at the girl. Normally, she was far more reserved in her opinions and praises but this girl brought on the softer side of the nun.

“I assure you. I am not. I made a lot of mistakes in my life. Some worse than others.” Said girl looked down, a bit ashamed of her past.

“We all did, Y/N. What is important is that you are trying your best to do good. You help people.”

“I still think like I’m not doing enough….. Like there are so many men and women and kids who are suffering …..”

“You sound awfully like someone else I know…..”

“Really? Who?” that little tone of curiosity In her voice was not a good sign. Y/N was the nicest person even but also the one who wouldn’t take no for an answer. If she wanted to do or know something there was no power in earth, heaven or hell that would prevent her from it. She would charm her way around, getting exactly what she set her mind to.

“Doesn’t matter. But he has the tendency to put himself on the cross and take the pain and suffer from everyone in the name of greater good.”

“Seems like a charming person.” Y/N smirked

“Oh, you poor girl…..” Maggie sighed and shook her head. It was better to just distract her little helper from whatever was going on inside her head and heart “if you are done talking here, off you go. You might have covered for 6, but little Tom has been crying all night again. I have no idea why, but you are like the only person who can get to him, so why don’t you focus on the job?”

“On it, sister Maggie.” Y/N flashed her most beautiful smile and with her sunshine and rainbow attitude left the nun by herself.

“Don’t you think she could be the one to help our guest downstairs, Maggie?” the second Y/N was out of sight father Lantom emerged from the adhering porch.

“No.”

“Maggie.”

“No, Paul. I’m not putting her into this mess. She’s been through enough.”

“And you are wondering who Matt took his stubbornness after.” Lantom muttered, but it was done with his representative sympathy. He was not the one to mock people. “I’m just saying, that perhaps she will help him see the other side of life. Not all the darkness and evil. And bring him back up. She has a natural talent for it, and you know it.”

“If anything it would consume and crash her. Just like it did to Matt. I’m not letting another kid go through something like that.”

“She’s not a kid.” Lantom shrugged but turned serious under the nun’s stern gaze  “Just think about it Maggie, that’s all I’m asking.  She’s been through a lot and nothing broke her, so maybe she’s stronger than you presume.”

“Hm.” Maggie scoffed

“Promise me, you’ll consider it. You know I only want what’s best for both of them.”

“Fine, fine, I promise.” she threw her hands in the air “you are so persistent at times. God have mercy on us all if they were to meet.”

***

Y/N Y/L/N was a perfect kid. Obedient, helpful, cheerful. Great student coming from a good family. An only child, never causing any trouble. Listening to her parents, her teachers, her lecturers. Graduated with honors and getting her MD, even if it came as a surprise to those who knew her. She always gave an impression of a person who would focus rather on some humanistic studies like  literary science or philology.

Her choice however was deeply rooted in her past, in her good family heritage.

You know this saying that every family has its secret. Some of them have more than it seems, and sometimes so called good ones are truly the worst, after you strip them from all the window dressing and hypocrisy.

Y/N had to be good and avoid trouble. Otherwise, any manifestation of disobedience, even the slightest would be met with extensive punishment. Most of the times leaving her with literal bruises, that she had to learn to cover and in tears and sobs that she had to muffle to avoid harsh words and accusation of her being weak and pathetic. Both of her parents were esteemed at work, mum being a CEO and dad a computer programmer and were extremely busy. To say the least, they have little to no time to take care of a kid, more often than not leaving Y/N wondering why the hell did they decide to have one in the first place. Their relationship was based on the how was school, did you do your homework  and what grade did you get from the test questions. And that was only from her mother, her dad never cared enough to even form them. Excusing himself with tiredness and the argument that woman should be taking emotional care of the kid, especially a girl.

All things considered, Y/N was lonely. She did not really have any friends, because how can you form any relationship if you have no good patterns of how it should look like. How can you connect with someone when all you know are quiet evenings filled with work and avoiding another members of the family. What was surprising about her, was that despite all this gloominess and coldness stemming from her closest surrounding she developed this quiet, inner happiness, calmness and peace. When there was problem she was the one to keep straight head and solve it. When someone was in distress she was the one to ease the situation and placate the conflict. But despite that, she was lonely. Always looking for something more, trying to make it better for people who were less privileged then her. And that was how she ended up volunteering at the convent under sister Maggie’s guidance.

She quickly proved herself to be great working with kids, and Maggie warmed up to this optimistic, energetic soul in a way that surprised and delighted father Lantom. It’s been three years of her work there now and she gained sympathy and trust of both.

***

 “Hey there little guy” Y/N entered the room when Tommy was placed. His back was to the door but he turned around as soon as he heard the girl’s voice.

“Hi, miss Y/N.”

“Some little bird told me you had a hard night?”

“I wasn’t sleeping” he rubbed his eyes with fists, looking so small and fragile, Y/N heart was breaking.

“Come here.” she sat on the edge of the bed and opened her arms, in which the boy immediately dived in. This poor little one, abandoned by his mother was in desperate need of warmth and whatever little joy could be given. And Y/N was more than willing to give hugs to him. “Did you have nightmares, again?” he muttered something, hiding face in her sweater “come on, Tommy, I need you to use human language.” She laughed

“It was the clown.” He pulled away, a few tears dripping down his cheeks

“Again? Oh, you poor thing.” Y/N caressed his cheeks rubbing the water away “was it that guy at school again?”

“Yes. He’s making me scared…..”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll settle that matter” she embraced him once again rocking gently from side to side “and in the meantime…..”

“Why is the time mean?”

“Oh, no, it’s not like….. “ the girl could not stop the giggle. Luckily the boy smiled as well, dispelling her worries that he might feel laughed at “ you know what, in fact, we are going to have a really, really nice time. I got a new book if you are interested. No clowns there. How does that sound?“

“Ok.” he mumbled

“Ok? Good. I’m gonna pick it up in just a second…..”

“Can you hug me some more?” the boy asked

“Sure, Tommy. We got time here.”

“Y/N?” Lantom was like a literal ghost, appearing out of shadows, out of nowhere “how’s out little fella doing?”

“I think it’s nothing  a good story and a serious talk with certain guy from room 11 could not fix.”

“Was it Anton again?”

“Mhm. Unfortunately. I’ll talk to him.”

“I think this boy may need some more seriousness than you can treat him with.”

“I can be serious.” She scoffed moving towards Lantom with twinge in her eyes, causing Tom to hold onto her tighter and  whimper.

“That’s good. Because we got one serious matter we need to discuss.”

“We being me and you, father?”

“We being you, me and sister Maggie.”

“Oh. I don’t know if I’m worthy enough.”

“You are the most trustworthy person we know, Y/N.”

“All right then. I’ll meet you after I make sure Tommy is taken care of.”

***

“You want to me to take care of a guy in the basement.” She repeated, both Lantom and Maggie watching her reaction carefully. She showed no emotions and it was hard to guess what was going inside her head. “Is he in need?”

“Yes.”

“All right then.” she shrugged “I’ll help.”

“Just like that? No more questions?”

“Why would I need any? If you trusted him enough to take him in. It’s not like he is the daredevil, right?" she smirked (not realising how shocked her interlocutors were for a moment) "So of course I’ll help. Should I go now?”

“You know the way.” Lantom managed to say, since Maggie couldn't force herself to say a word.

“On it, father.” she smiled, using her typical sentence and walked away.

“I think we made a mistake here, Paul.”

“She’ll be fine. She’s gentle but not naïve and know how to take care of herself.”

“I still think we made a mistake.”

to be continued (part 2 is up)

@pinksirensong

[licncourt]

I just went back and read your original Louis head canons, so I have to ask: do you have any new ones? They're all so good, I could listen to you talk about him for ages !

Nasty baby boy!! Thank you for asking, I need to gnaw on him like a chew toy rn because of my IWTV reread. It's giving me even more Louis brain worms than usual. Little guy....

He is not an animal person in general, but he has a very special and very strong affinity for birds. He has bird feeders at all the windows in his favorite spots, and an assortment of little bird friends (he's had lots of different kinds) in a big aviary who are very spoiled and very well trained. He's also a big fan of the birdtok scroll hole and fighting about birdkeeping on reddit until someone is crying

Louis knows his original family name from France, but never uses or speaks about it. If anyone were to ask, he'd say he doesn't care for it because he wants """his""" achievements to speak for themselves, but in reality it kind of bothers him that his ancestry is "common" and nouveau riche

Lestat's dumbest nickname for him is Minky (because Louis' hair reminds him of those fancy mahogany mink coats, all dark, shiny and fluffywavy). He perhaps maybe possibly finds all the stupid pet names a little bit sweet

Phone game junkie. If brass buttons were that interesting to him, imagine candy crush or the businessman enrichment he would get from animal crossing. Lestat has to limit his screen time so he doesn't rot his brain

He watches Protestant televangelists and bitches at the screen like a dad watching football. Just in general he likes to look at things that make him angry and then complain about it (big fan of Facebook and the news for the same reason)

Really into modern self-help and wellness culture. He konmaris his house every two months and is a top user of the headspace app. It's really annoying for everyone else but it does seem to be working

He uses his vampire prodigy skills to do a lot of sketching outside, especially when the weather is nice. He's always been a nature enjoyer but now he can capture it easily and keep it close. He likes to take pictures too. And show them to other people whether they care or not. The oak tree in his favorite park is like a grandchild to him

Because of his poor feeding habits very early on after being turned, his fangs are just slightly smaller and duller than the average vampire. It makes his kills messier/harder to keep tidy because there's a bit of sawing and ripping involved in the feeding process instead of a clean bite

Contrary to popular belief, he does enjoy physical affection from very close people, like his siblings when he was human and Lestat now. He needs more space than his stage five clinger husband (they would be surgically attached if Lestat had his way), but he likes having someone to lean against while he reads or a lap to sit in during a movie or cuddles after a long day. It just took an acclimation period and some trust building/bonding to get there

His hatred of granulated sugar was partly financially motivated (business competition) but also because he had a massive sweet tooth as a human but it didn't fit his image. Almond mom who sneaks twinkies in the bathroom

On a somewhat related note, his disordered eating wasn't a totally new thing as a vampire. His image of himself was always very reliant on his ability to be "godly" and In Control which led to a lot of extreme monk food habits and secret binging on fat, sugar, and alcohol. It's also why he spiraled into being an actual alcoholic so quickly after Paul's death

Against all odds, he is a fancy bath guy. Hot water was obviously not super easy to get and regulate for most of his life so it wasn't really a feasible option, but now he's extremely into the idea of being up to his neck in hot water that smells like lavender. He's kind of embarrassed about it though so he takes them when he's alone like it's some kind of petty crime. Lestat knows and leaves him little bath product gifts (and eventually gets to be in included in the baths sometimes)

[phoenixwatchesmovies]

What I'm Watching: April 2024

Back at it again with Rocky Horror Picture Show, A Knight's Tale, The Exorcist, Doom Patrol, Hard Candy, and Dead Boy Detectives. I did a lot of regular writing this month and it used up words that would have gone into this, so bear with me.

Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975)

A newly-engaged couple have a breakdown in an isolated area and must seek shelter at the bizarre residence of Dr. Frank-n-Furter.

I think I was still riding the very distinct high of Repo! when I decided to throw this on, and I think they'd make a good double feature. Shockingly, this was only my second all-the-way-through watch, and I can't tell you why that is, because I love this movie. I'm familiar with the discourse, but I'm in the camp of "context is everything" and back in the day? This was groundbreaking. Even now, the general celebration of embracing what gives you joy no matter what anyone else has to say about it is nothing to scoff at. And yeah, I cried at the ending. Do something about it. I am, however, ashamed to say that I did not do the time warp this time around...but I sang along, so that counts.

A Knight's Tale (2001)

After his master dies, a peasant squire, fueled by his desire for food and glory, creates a new identity for himself as a knight.

Kind of at a loss for this one, ngl. This was a combined favorite between me and my brother when we were younger, and we did in fact run through two VHS copies over the years (which reminds me that I still need to get my hands on a DVD). Not only does it hold up, but I think it's even better coming back to it after so long. The nostalgia still hits, and age/experience makes some elements hit harder. But god DAYUM, did it make me bawl. Found family, underdogs beating the odds, and Heath fucking Ledger. I'm still mourning that man, and I will until the day I die. If you've gotten used to me yelling about Mike Flanagan ensembles, then apply any one of those tirades here, because the supporting cast is Excellent™. This is the movie that introduced me to Alan Tudyk, Mark Addy, and James Purefoy, who have yet to disappoint me, and it also kick-started my crush on Paul Bettany. What can I say? I'm a sucker for the snarky smooth talkers who are simultaneously the smartest little shits in the bunch and also cringefail losers. And the soundtrack? Speaks for itself. You can't separate the music from the movie, and to this day I'll hear songs used and still think of this movie before anything else. This was the first place I heard my favorite David Bowie song! (I unfortunately lost my train of thought for the rest of this section, but) If for some reason you haven't watched this yet, I highly recommend it. It's fun, hilarious, and occasionally heartwarming. It's medieval Rocky! What else is there to say?

The Exorcist (1973)

When a young girl is possessed by a mysterious entity, her mother seeks the help of two Catholic priests to save her life.

I'm also at a loss on this one. Everyone has a few classics they just can't get on board with, and this is one of mine. Maybe it's just that religious horror doesn't do it for me, or that some nitpicks I have with the pacing and editing take me right out of it. Don't know, don't really care. None of that, of course, is to say that I think this is a bad movie, which is the most annoying part. I want to like it more than I do! Believe me! But the stuff that I take issue with kinda blow the whole thing for me. I already made a separate complaint post, so I'll focus on everything else here. Linda Blair and Ellen Burstyn carry this thing on their permanently injured backs (look up the production of this movie if you want to have a bad time) and there's no contesting that. Yeah, sure, the whole question of faith plot is no doubt compelling, it's moving as shit when good triumphs over evil, blah blah don't really care. The strongest aspect of the movie for me is the relationship between the MacNeils. You can't spend so much time establishing how close they are and how much they love (and like!) each other and expect me not to latch onto them. The entire point of that time spent is to make it hit that much harder when Chris breaks down in desperation to help her daughter. Tell me you don't feel something when she's sobbing and begging Father Karras to do something for Regan. Juxtapose that with how detached Karras is from his own mother and his guilt that he wasn't there for her when she needed someone, just for funsies.

Doom Patrol (2019-2023)

The adventures of an idealistic mad scientist and his field team of superpowered outcasts.

Ok. OK. You've been seeing my meltdowns ever since I started this, but that doesn't even scratch the surface of how weird/fun/cathartic this show is. I knew I loved it as soon as I saw certain casting announcements back in 2018 without knowing literally ANYTHING else about it. I'm just getting into season two, and I've already cried so much over these broken, chaotic, disasterpiece losers. Again, not many words for the roundup, but expect more meltdowns.

Hard Candy (2005)

Hayley's a smart, charming teenage girl. Jeff's a handsome, smooth fashion photographer. An Internet chat, a coffee shop meet-up, an impromptu fashion shoot back at Jeff's place. Jeff thinks it's his lucky night. He's in for a surprise.

Impossible--IMPOSSIBLE--to overstate how much this movie means to me. Discovering it when I was getting serious about writing changed the way I write. Learning about production changed the way I watch movies. And finding this story of all stories, exactly when I needed it, probably did more to keep me in one piece than we have time to discuss here. THANK. GOD. It still works. This one is right up there with Perfect Blue in that it skeeved me out so bad the first time I saw it that I had no intention of going back to it ever again, but the longer it sat with me, the harder it was to shake it off. The older I get, the harder it is to sit through, and I think that works 100% in its favor. I'm not about to make this standard practice, but here's the trailer, included because it's still my favorite that I've ever seen:

Leaving aside the story for awhile, the whole thing is top notch. Barring maybe fifteen minutes, the entire movie is one location and two characters. Naturally, things have to stay interesting somehow, and the script alone kicks ass. There is maybe one scene that could be cut, but that's it. Everything else builds off of everything that came before. The cinematography stays dynamic, with gorgeous wide shots and intimate close ups, smooth and sweeping movement during quiet moments and frenetic handheld action when shit goes down. The color palette of the set and the editing is harsh and atmospheric. The sound design is *chef kiss* crisp. And the performances pull all of that together. If the premise of 30-something guy and 14-year-old girl meeting online and then in person at his place isn't icky enough, then seeing how Jeff and Hayley interact with each other will do it. Patrick Wilson sells you on the charming groomer, and his casual delivery of some of these lines are, in context, fucking horrifying. Contrast that with Elliot Page, equally charming in the opposite direction, trying so hard to be mature and impressive. Each one knows they shouldn't be meeting the way they are and acknowledge how inappropriate the whole situation is, and with the first line of dialogue you get hit with this sense of dread over what is going to happen to this kid. And then the first twist happens. It's an interesting power dynamic, each trying to get one over on the other and overlaid with this commentary on predators in online spaces, how abuse victims are often dismissed and persecuted, and how the perpetrators of some of the most vile crimes you can think of never have to answer for what they do. It is baked into nearly every scene, and it could read very easily as soapboxy or heavy handed, but Page delivers it with rage and disgust, and paired with Hayley's moments of distress and vulnerability, it paints a very visceral picture that is so. Fucking. Cathartic. If I have to boil this one down to a single statement, it's "how you wish Lolita had gone."

Dead Boy Detectives (2024-)

Charles Rowland and Edwin Paine decided not to enter the afterlife to stay on Earth and investigate crimes that involve supernatural stuff.

WATCH THIS SHOW. FINISH THE WHOLE THING. I WANT A SECOND SEASON.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Masterpiece: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Summary: While giving a lecture with Spencer and Rossi, a man approaches you with information regarding five missing people. Can you save them in time?

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

"Y/N, I need you to do something for me," Rossi says.

"Anything."

"You said he feels intimidated by women. He didn't want to look at you. I want you to come in when he least expects it to throw him off his game."

"You got it," you nod.

You, Rossi, and Spencer get up to head to the interrogation room, and Rossi looks at Spencer in confusion.

"What's our strategy going to be in there with the interrogation?"

"You're not gonna be in the room."

"What? Why?"

"That's what he wants. He wants to play with you. We have to knock him off his game. That's all we have right now."

Rossi walks into the room without your boyfriend, but he doesn't leave. You two watch from the window, and Paul looks around when he doesn't see Spencer in there.

"Where's Dr. Reid?"

"Busy."

"You have something more important going on than me?"

"My dry cleaning is more important than you."

"That's very hostile."

"I think you're just a big-mouth wannabe who doesn't have the guts to do anything at all about this."

"Well, then I guess I'm free to go. I didn't spend the last five years of my life working on a masterpiece just to fold to a bad bluff, especially to someone who doesn't even have a hand to play."

Paul grabs his jacket and opens the door to leave, and you take this moment to walk into the room. As soon as he sees you, he lowers his head and becomes super shy. He didn't act this way when he first met you because Spencer was also there. Now that it's a more intimate setting, he has nothing to do but be a coward in front of you.

"Agent Y/N, you remember Professor Rothschild, right?"

"May I?" you ask and take his jacket from him.

He walks to the wall and cowers next to it without so much as a look in your direction.

"A God like you doesn't have a problem with women, does he?" Rossi asks.

"Do I make you nervous?" you ask him.

"It's okay, Agent. I think we have everything we need to know. This is not a man who can confront a woman on an equal footing. He sneaks up on them and gets them from behind. The original seven victims, oh, they were alone when they came up missing. They had a routine, and he watched them. Hiding in the weeds like a snake... Like a coward."

You set his jacket down over the chair before leaving the room. As soon as you leave, Paul recovers and goes back to being mysterious and calm.

"That was a waste of precious time."

"Oh, it's all part of the game now, isn't it?"

"You think you know what game you're playing, David? You aren't even able to grasp what questions to ask."

"Such as?"

"How about asking what the rules are."

"Rules?"

Paul takes off his watch and sets it on the table so Rossi can see what time it is.

"Two o'clock... and then there were four. I told you that in less than ten hours, another five people would be dead. I never said they would die at the same time. I wonder which one it was--the woman or one of those precious babies." Rossi is seething at this point, but he is doing a good job at hiding it from Paul. "You have to know the rules to play the game, David. Every two hours, one of them will die. In the end, they will all be gone."

"Is there something else I need to know?"

"Only that I'm rooting for you... David."

Rossi gets up and leaves the room, but he doesn't look your way. You and Spencer follow him out of the room only to run into Penelope who is panicking.

"What's wrong?"

"It's them. They're on my screen." Everyone follows her to her office, and when she sees the computer, she frowns in confusion. "Wait, that's not right. There were four children when I went to get you."

"What's that on their faces?" Emily asks.

All three children and Kaylee are wearing some kind of mask to protect themselves from whatever gasses are pumping inside the room they're in.

"They look like gas masks."

"Why would you fill a place with gas and then provide gas masks?"

"Maybe the gas serves another purpose. Look how evenly they're spaced out, and the hoses are stretched as far as they can go without coming off. The masks are to keep them in specific positions."

"He said one of them is already dead," Spencer says.

"One of the five, and now there are only three children left. Who sent you this?" you ask Pen.

"An anonymous site emailed to me."

"He said one will die every two hours, not all five in ten. When he said ten hours, I just assumed--"

"It's a chess game, he's two moves ahead," Spencer cuts Rossi off.

"Let's not get diverted. How are we doing with the seven missing women?"

"So far, I've got thirty-nine missing brunettes in central Virginia," Penelope says, pulling up the pictures of all the women missing.

"Kaylee is about thirty, so look at the women who are at that age. Narcissists tend to be extremely preferential."

Penelope types in the parameters, which narrows down the list.

"Twenty-eight."

"He said he's been working on this for five years, so check within the last five years."

"Seventeen," Penelope says after typing some more.

"Alright, if he thinks he's going to jail for even one of the original seven homicides, maybe he'll tell us where the rest of them are and give himself some deal room. How long do we have until the next one?"

"One hour and forty-eight minutes."

"Dave, can I speak to you for a second? The rest of you, see if you can figure out who might have been the original seven."

Hotch and Rossi go off to the side while the rest of you go to the briefing room with printouts of the women on Penelope's list. Each woman has their own file with everything regarding their disappearance. You can eliminate some of them based on the circumstances of their disappearances, so you know they won't be Paul's victims.

The ones you have suspicions about, Penelope writes on the whiteboard, and before you know it, you have five names already on there. Hotch walks into the room without Rossi, and you know he is with Paul.

"How are we doing?"

"We already have five women we believe are his victims," Emily says.

"I might have another," you state and hold up the file in your hands. "Her name was Margaret Peters. She disappeared in 2006 on her way to work. She was last seen at a coffee shop she went to every morning."

"That's number six," Spencer says as Penelope writes her name down. "We need one more."

The screen JJ usually uses to showcase new cases to the team has the live footage of Kaylee and the three children. You look up to see Kaylee trying to talk to the child furthest from the camera. She gestures for the little boy to run to her, and he takes a deep breath before doing so. She gives him her mask, and she checks on the other children before swaying over to the mask the child left behind.

"She put herself closest to the end, farthest from the camera. Why?"

"Maybe she knows something we don't like she doesn't have a lot of time. Let's continue," Hotch sighs.

"I have Lindsey Connor. She was last seen when she stepped out to have a cigarette while having a blown tire fixed."

"That doesn't sound routine. I don't think she was one of them," you shake your head.

"What about Lisa McDaniel? She went missing in Saluda, North Carolina in early 2008 while on her daily jog." That sounds like one of his victims, so Penelope writes her name on the board. "That's seven, and including Kaylee, that makes eight." Penelope puts their pictures on the big screen while still keeping the live footage up. "They're all incredibly beautiful."

"Almost unnaturally," Spencer comments.

"What are the chances that three out of our seven victims are from the same town?" Penelope asks.

"That's not a coincidence. He chose it that way."

Spencer gets a picture from Derek who is at Kaylee's house with Jordan. He took a picture of one of the bedrooms where a bunch of kids' toys are arranged in a weird way. They are in a circle with a line of them going down the middle.

"Morgan just sent this to me from the Robinson house."

Spencer looks at the picture and then at the board with all the names on it. He has such a smart brain that he sees with more than just his eyes. You're not sure what is going on inside his head, but he grabs the marker and makes a circle over the names, and draws a line down the middle of it.

"1-1-2-3-5," he mutters.

"Does that mean something?" you ask.

"I know where to find them."

Without another word, he rushes out of the room. He knows where to find them, and the pendant around Paul's neck is going to help him find them. As soon as he gets the pendant, he walks back to the briefing room with it in his hands.

"Garcia, can you put the map of Virginia up on screen? It's an irrational number known as 'Phi'. It's based on the ratio of line segments to each other and of the whole. It's called the golden ratio," Spencer explains. "It's a ratio found all through life. In fact, many people that we find conventionally attractive are proportioned based on that ratio. He made a reference to Leonardo da Vinci, remember this? Da Vinci used it in a lot of his paintings. As a matter of fact, the last supper--"

"Reid, Reid, how do we find them?" Hotch cuts him off before he goes on a tangent.

"Right. The whole concept is represented by this pendant, including the logarithmic spiral created by using a Fibonacci sequence. Follow me on this. You can manipulate this image, right?"

"Tell me what you need," Penelope says.

"Pull up all the towns that the missings are from." She does what he asks. "Wonderful. We had one in Richmond, one in Dinwiddie, two in Gloucester Point, three in Saluda, and finally five in Loretto this morning. 1-1-2-3-5 is a Fibonacci series. Each number is added to the number before it. Now geometrically, it can be expressed as a spiral. It's called a logarithmic spiral. Can you put the spiral up on the map?" Again, Penelope does so. "Thanks. Okay, now flip it 180 degrees." The image flips like he wants. "Now make it bigger. ... Bigger ... just a little bit bigger. The pendant is like a key." He puts the pendant on the screen, and Penelope marks the middle of it. "Chester, Virginia."

"You're sure?" Rossi asks.

"With his level of obsession with these numbers, the ratio will have permeated his entire life. If we took a city map of Chester, the location where Kaylee and her children are being held, it would follow one of these points on that map as well. The ratio works with any scale at all."

The spiral connects all of the cities to be a perfect spiral, so you know they are in Chester, Virginia.

"That's my boyfriend," you say proudly.

"Morgan and Todd are closer. Call them and tell them to get to Chester. I'm gonna get a chopper ready. Reid and Y/N, get a city map and you're with me."

"There's still something bugging me about this still," Rossi sighs.

While Rossi tries to figure that out, you, Hotch, and Spencer head out to the helicopter to get to Chester faster. Derek and Jordan are already on their way over to the house, and they get there as soon as you land.

You take out your gun and rush over to the house, but before you can get too close to it, you stop and put your hands out to stop everyone else from going further.

"Wait!"

"What's going on?" Hotch asks.

"This place is a trap." Angry red energy is floating around the property, but it slithers around the back of the property into a patch of trees. You see yourself walking through the front door, and a cloud of acid gets blown into your face. "The acid tanks are in the back. If we go through the front door, we'll die."

"How do we get inside?" Derek asks.

"We disengage the acid tanks. Once we do that, we can enter through the front."

"That's my girlfriend," Spencer smiles proudly.

You lead the group to the acid tanks, and Derek and Hotch turn them off to prevent everyone from dying a horrible death. They take off the hoses to take that extra step, and now the house is clear to go inside.

"Thank you for saving our lives," Derek says as he passes by you.

"Don't mention it."

Your group heads inside to see pictures of the Mona Lisa and the spiral everywhere. In the back of the room is a concrete door with a camera outside of it, and you know Kaylee and the kids are inside. Paul really wanted to make this as easy as possible because there is a key already in the lock.

With the acid tanks out of the way, Kaylee and all four kids are saved. The one you thought had disappeared was only separated by a concrete door. Ambulances are called to the house to take care of Kaylee and the kids as well as the kids' parents.

"Thank you," Spencer says to you. You and Spencer are off to the side while Hotch is on the phone with Rossi. "For saving our lives."

"You'd do it for me," you smile up at him. "How are you doing with your parents?"

"Much better. What about yours?"

"My dad still has some issues with you, but I believe he'll come around. He just needs to get to know you, that's all. He's being more stubborn than usual, and he's not going to like you for a while, but he will eventually."

"Listen, I had my suspicions about Paul and this case, and I followed my gut just like you did with the acid tanks. My gut is saying something isn't right with your parent's business. If you don't mind, could I look into it?"

You're not sure why, but this really pisses you off.

"Spencer, nothing is going on with them. They're my parents! I stood by your side with your dad, why won't you do the same with me? You accused him of murdering that child, but he didn't do it. You thought he did it, but he was innocent. Why are you picking on my dad? Is it because he doesn't like you? He doesn't like anyone!"

"Y/N, I understand your anger, but I really do think something is wrong here. This is different from my dad's situation."

"Spencer, please let it go! There is nothing going on with my mom and dad. They are normal parents who are very protective over me. Nothing is wrong, and don't you think I'd know about it with my abilities?"

"Your judgment can be clouded due to your relationship with them."

"Seriously, just drop it. I'm not going to give you permission to look into their foster business, and I'm done repeating myself."

You walk off to calm down, and Spencer watches you with concerned eyes. Whenever he has this feeling, he's usually right, and for some reason, he can't shake this off.

"Man must evolve for all human conflict a method which rejects revenge, aggression, and retaliation. The foundation of such a method is love." - Martin Luther King, Jr.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[bonesandthebees]

Btw, I promised Dune thoughts, didn’t I? Let’s get into it. Apparently they changed a shit ton from the book to be able to fit it into the film. Can’t really comment on the changes, cuz I haven’t read the books and I don’t plan to. Spoilers from now on for my fellow anons btw.

Movie Chani is very different and you can pry her from my cold dead hands. I love that girl. She goes through so much shit. Idk, I just love how she’s the only person to not fall for this planted project (the only surviving one anyway). And part of it is the fact that she didn’t believe in it in the first place, so did her friends, so they back each other up and it’s nice and it influenced Paul too. But then she gets to know him, and she sees him at his most human, right? She sees him at his most vulnerable and after his nightmares and that “I with love you as long as you stay true to yourself” or whatever the exact words are is killing me. Because her love had always been conditional and she made that choice and stuck to it and she was forced to be part of a prophecy she didn’t even believe in in the first place and I am ILL.

Then there’s Paul. Poor boy had his future set in stone, yet he still made the conscious decision to go there. He wasn’t dragged into it kicking and screaming. He willingly drank the Water of Life. He doomed himself (and everyone else in the process). And it’s just so interesting to watch the shift, because the more people follow, the more he denies it, the more he sort of surrounds himself with people who don’t believe even when his mentor is the most loyal believer of all. And still he makes that choice. And it’s to protect other people, right? Because he couldn’t see and he couldn’t predict and he could have saved them if he had seen, so he needs to see and he needs to take that role, but once he does everything shifts. My man literally dies, comes back wrong, walks in all arrogant, gives ONE speech and raises an army to commit not 1 but 2 genocides within the space of a day, then kills of half of his remaining family and starts a intergalactic war. Completely insane.

Quick little aside about the filming itself, because the start and the shots and there’s so much non verbal communication. Really using to medium to it’s fullest with the way it starts like we are one of the characters, crouched in the sand, looking around, equally confused. It’s so fun. And the visuals are all gorgeous. And it’s just a lot of subtitle story telling that I feel I can’t fully grasp without having read the books, but appreciate all the same.

Anyway, Bene Gesserit. I am Intrigued. I am all here for the planning and the scheming. This is so interesting but also so morally bankrupt on so many levels. They really feel like this all powerful force that’s fully in control of everything happening in the universe. Idk, it feels like even the emperor himself is just a puppet to them. And the princess is more aware, and well trained, but she’s still only in control because they allow her to be in control. They allow her to have power and should she become too much of a threat, they would probably end her just as easily as they tried to end the House of Arteries. Idk. Anyway, we like badass women and we support their wrongs in this household.

Lastly, Jessica. I feel like she’s the one who started it all. It’s been a looooooooong time since I watched Dune part one, but isn’t the entire catalyst that she was meant to have a daughter, but she fell in love and Leto wanted a son, so she gave him one. (And maybe she knew she had a promising bloodline and wanted to try and see if her son would have been the one.) To me, her character seems to be this combination of love and this life long manipulation that has led to arrogance. She is so terrified until she drinks the water of life and then she becomes absolutely ruthless. She’ll do what it takes to protect her family and she’ll sacrifice everyone else to get a way out. But at the same time the “You should have believed.” Sorta shows her own arrogance again, this belief that she had before that her bloodline was good enough (when her son never asked for any of this).

That’s enough for now. Not sure if I have more to say anyway. Enjoy the ramble!

-🌲

YESSS DUNE THOUGHTS. I also haven't read the book so we are in the same boat

god I love Chani so much. she's SO interesting. the fact that she and her friends were part of the Fremen group that don't follow the religious legends of Lisan Al Gaib so she never approaches Paul thinking he's this messiah, but just thinking that he's interesting and seems to genuinely want to learn and understand her culture means so much. he's just a person to her. she falls in love with a boy and sees the parts of him no one else does. she sees his nightmares, hears his fears, learns that he doesn't want to be this messiah even though everyone else is trying to push him towards that future. she tries to hold onto him so he has an anchor to the human being he is instead of this myth, but the prophecy must be fulfilled. and chani is forced to have a hand in completing that prophecy against her will. god. my heart.

paul is also very interesting as a character because there's so many facets to what's going on with him. like, he's being pulled towards this destiny that's been predetermined for him through centuries of bene gesserit interference. everything happening around him is telling him he has to go down this path, it's the only way. and he tries so hard to fight against it. because he knows he's not any real messiah and that the abilities he has is only the result of his mom's weird witch cult, and even the religion itself was planted by the bene gesserit as well. it's all outside manipulation of these people who have been subjugated for centuries and he doesn't want that, he doesn't want to hold this false power and especially not to lead so many people to their deaths. but like you said, he steps into this role willingly in the end. yes, there are outside forces pressuring him, but he drinks the water of life all on his own. and then boom it's genocide time.

(also, before I saw the movie I saw a meme on twitter describing the water of life as "the juice that makes you worse" so that's literally how I kept referring to it in my head the entire movie. he and jessica both drank the juice and got So Much Worse)

the film itself is SOOOO gorgeous and the elements of filmmaking are so well utilized. denis villeneuve the man that you are. he uses so much subtle storytelling just through the shots and the colors and everything like that. and yeah that opening scene is fantastic. great way to really throw the viewers back into the deep end.

I find the Bene Gesserit so fascinating in all of this. like it's very clear they're the ones who really control what's going on in the larger galaxy. none of the houses will make a move against another without getting permission from the Bene Gesserit. but of course the movie also makes you wonder what their end goal is. what exactly are they trying to accomplish with Arrakis? and what's the princess's role in all of this? like you said, it very much feels like she's only has power because the Bene Gesserit allow her to. so I'm just curious what's going on with all of them.

ahhh Jessica I love her she is so unhinged. yes, in the first movie it's mentioned that she was supposed to have a daughter, but instead chose to have a son. from what I've heard about the books I believe that if Jessica did what she was told, she was supposed to have a daughter, and then that daughter would give birth to a boy who would be the Kwisatz Haderach. but she decided to skip ahead a generation and have a son. it was her love for her husband that first led her to disobey the Bene Gesserit, and from there she wanted to protect her family and see her son ascend to what she believed was his rightful place as the Lisan Al Gaib. it's so jarring to see how different she is before she drinks the water of life and afterwards. she knows now, she can see what she believes is the only way now, and she's willing to do whatever it takes to achieve the best ending for her and her son. and of course, she's incredibly arrogant about it all at the same time. I love her there's so much wrong with her.