#i don’t think i was in a place to reconnect with people yet so i’m so sorry 😭

[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

With Discretion - Part 2 **

Part 2 is here! We'll get to learn more about Harry's side of things and be exposed to a bit more of the mess Caleb is in, and of course...the reconnection of Y/N & Harry! I hope you guys like it! I think there will be a 3rd/final part to this fic:) Read Part 1 HERE & find my masterlist HERE.

Warnings: verbal argument, dirty talk, oral (f-receiving), hand job, p in v (unprotected), creampie, breast play, infidelity,

WC: 14.2K

… SIX MONTHS AGO …

When Harry saw your smiling face at the bar, asking him about some fictional business trip to Tokyo, his lips involuntarily turned up in a smile. He hadn’t forgotten about you because you had dropped a huge bomb on him when you revealed to him that his CFO was married. He didn’t care too much about his employees’ personal lives, but after learning that he started to notice how big of a flirt he was around the office. Those observations then led to him dedicating the occasional thought to you and how you might be fairing. He was pleased to see that you seemed to be doing well.

But there was also a part of him that felt sad for you . He thought that perhaps the knowledge of yet another lie Caleb had told you would weigh heavily on you and surely break you but he was surprised that as the night carried on you were the most composed out of your friends. You didn’t seem like you were upset in the slightest even as you drank, which was what usually drew the emotions out of people. You were having fun and singing and dancing, talking with everyone as if your life was a dream. Harry wanted to get in your head and see for himself what it was that you were thinking; he couldn’t stop looking at you…you were too beautiful to not draw his gaze so he kept looking until you were looking back just as much. And after an hour he was planted beside you, talking to you and flirting a bit and it didn’t seem to bother you. You were flirting back and he was having a lot of fun getting to know you. You were smart and kind and so much fun to be around! 

What he was enjoying the most was that you seemed to be on the same wavelength internally and that was rare for him to find. Harry was great at connecting with people on the surface, but it was special for him to meet someone who made him feel like they got him. And you seemed to get him really well, he could feel this pull…an attraction that he hadn’t felt to another person in far too long, and it was electrifying and it was keeping him on his toes. He knew that there was nothing he could do to fix your situation with Caleb, but he wanted to go out of his way and shower you with kindness and chivalry while he could and maybe something in your head would click and make you leave that sorry son of a bitch, Caleb. “Harry?” You said as you came up to him.

“Yeah?” He asked, placing a hand at the middle of your back as he leaned his ear down to your mouth.

“I think I’m gonna head out. Cecilia is way too drunk, I want to get her back to the hotel before she blacks out on me somewhere and I can’t do anything about it.” You explained, “But thank you for including us tonight, it was so kind of you!”

“S’not a problem! And look, I have a car waiting around the block, I can help you take Cecilia to her hotel. Are you also staying there?”

“Yeah, we all are! But don’t worry about it! Stay and enjoy, have fun!” You assured him.

“Don’t know how much fun I can have after you’re gone, love.” He flirted and you smiled bashfully and looked away for a moment.

“Sure, sure…”

“I’m serious and also about taking you guys! I’ll feel better knowing I left you both safe and sound, alright? Please, s’no bother at all.” He said over the music and you sighed.

“OK, alright. I really do appreciate it, Harry.” You said with gratitude drenching your expression.

“Not a problem. Alright, let’s get to it.” He said as you started to get your things together.

Of course, there was a bit of traffic, even at 1am, and he watched as you ran your fingers through the top of your friend’s hair before gently massaging her scalp after she had laid down in your lap. He wanted to feel you like that; to be close to you and to smell your perfume and feel your fingers in his hair as he dozed off. 

He continued talking to you, this time asking if you worked or if you had any projects you did in your spare time. And well, he learned that you ran your own event planning company, you had two masters degrees, one in Business Strategy & Leadership and the other in Finance & Accounting. You also enjoyed music, cooking, swimming, and traveling. Between the two of you, you had a lot in common, talking made the drive go by way too soon. But when you arrived at the hotel you two were in stitches as you tried to get Cecilia out of the car. 

“I wonder if they have a wheelchair? Or maybe they’ll let us use one of the little luggage carts the bell boys use?” You asked through your laughter and he sputtered out a laugh.

“Unlikely. I ummm, I’m positive I can carry her.” He said to you.

“Oh my god, no. You’ve done more than enough tonight, Harry-”

“Just let me show off a bit, alright Y/N?” He teased and you giggled.

“Don’t think you need to carry Ceclia for that, but alright…” you smirked and he chuckled. 

He was careful as he pulled her out of the car and well, he asked you to ensure the skirt of her dress wasn’t ridden up before you made your way inside. He noticed how friendly you were with the staff as well and that put a another good feeling about you in his chest. He wanted to know…to understand… to be able to rationalize Cal’s infidelity because from everything he had seen so far you were an angel in the flesh. Sure, some people were totally fake and had this dark side hidden within them. He’d fallen victim to that since he was young because of his family’s money and well, now his own money, so he could tell those people apart with ease now and if you were one of them he was none the wiser. 

Before he knew it you guys were in the lift and you were looking through your friend’s bag for her room key. You looked relieved to find it and then shared a story about how one time in university the “responsible friend” was given the room key but lost her purse at some bar, so you all had to wait to get a replacement at the front desk. However, they had all been quite drunk so it complicated a fairly simple plan and a few of them ended up blacked out in the hallway and you and another girl had to drag them into the room when you got the replacement key.

“Are you the put-together friend, then?” Harry asked and you giggled.

“After my undergrad, yes.” You said and he chuckled.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, I was the only one who was going to grad school. I got into the Marshall School of Business on a really good scholarship, I couldn’t do anything to risk losing that. I had to have my wits about me at all times. The USC network is just so extensive, especially in LA, so I would probably run into another alumnus randomly at a taco bell at midnight. They’re very gossipy as well so while in school it’s good to just be on your best behavior.” You explained to him. 

But soon enough you were leaving Cecilia in her room and he just wasn’t ready to leave you yet. So he offered to take you up to your room. Yeah, he’d been thinking about possibly kissing you or more throughout the night because there was chemistry between the two of you. The electricity was buzzing and he wanted so badly to see what would come of all of that attraction in an intimate setting, but you were married…to his CFO nonetheless! And well, he just had to ask you about what the deal was between you and Caleb. And he was shocked to learn that you’d been married to him for seven years though because Caleb had never once mentioned a wife and had always brought other dates around for parties or work outings and he felt angry at Caleb now. He wanted to tell you that this one affair wasn’t the only one, but that wasn’t his business to share. But it was shocking to him…he didn’t know how you kept your composure when you knew about his infidelity…he mentioned something about getting revenge on Caleb and he got a bit worried when your expression changed, maybe he had pushed you too far? And he was awaiting your response.

“I mean…thankfully, I don’t think I need that validation from anyone else.” You explained. Harry’s lips turned up in a smile as soon as he heard the words leaving your mouth, “I know who I am and I am happy with who I am, in every way. And not to sound arrogant, but I know what I bring to the table as a partner and if that’s not enough for someone then… their loss.” You said with ease.

Harry was absolutely blown away. He felt like his world had come to a screeching halt at your response. If he didn’t already like you before, he did a whole heck of a lot more now. He’d never met a person more put together than you and it was like a breath of fresh air. He had done a lot of challenging and painful work on himself in therapy, so he often found that most people lacked in self-worth or had no self-awareness, but you did. You were at his level mentally and emotionally and in truth, he had struggled finding partners because there was never really anyone out there who seemed to be on his level as well. If you’d been on a date he would’ve proposed to you then and there. 

“You’re absolutely extraordinary.” He said without a single hint of inhibition. 

And well, next thing he knew you were kissing ardently and then he was making you come over and over, showing you exactly how you deserved to be loved on. He was showing you how he would love on you if he were your man. And just getting to sink into you…he hadn’t had an experience that pleasurable in years. He was infatuated with your body and how it reacted to his. He wanted to ask you what felt good because he needed to make sure that he was doing exactly what you liked so that you could get off with intent. And hearing his name dripping from your beautiful lips was otherworldly. Everything about you was perfect and he made sure that he was treating you as such. You definitely needed the fuck, but you needed his tenderness and romancing just a little bit more. You needed to feel appreciated and seen above all else and he was going to give that to you while it was his chance to. Because as much as he was enamored with every part of you and longed to get lost in you, he knew that this was a first and last. A mere fluke of luck in his insignificant existence on this earth.

After everything he did to you, you had passed out almost immediately after he had cleaned you up. You were tucked safely into his side, cheek smushed against his brawny chest. His right leg was tucked securely in-between yours and his hand was smoothing up and down your lower back and just a bit of your bum. He couldn’t sleep without experiencing you like this for a bit. He wanted to see your soft and delicate features up close without alarming you in anyway. He wanted to get to smell you long enough to figure out what that perfume you were wearing was. He wanted to imprint in his memory what your skin felt like bare against his. 

Harry was infatuated in a way he hadn’t been since he was 12 years old! He used to get sick to his stomach with adoration for another person and he felt it now, that everything was stirring up inside of him. He’d always felt things very deeply, but he hadn’t felt something so big in quite a while. It could be overwhelming to feel so much, to be so vulnerable all the time, he’d been hurt so often in his youth due to the heart he so proudly wore on his sleeve. So he learned to toughen up, mastered stoicism, and became the level-headed tycoon he was today. He taught himself discipline, routine, predictability…so that he wouldn’t ever be caught off guard again. But then, there’s always someone who’s just so perfectly honey-sweet that they get through the cracks. And you were exactly that. Even after your first meeting he thought of you often…another pretty picture that lived in the gallery of faces in his brain. But yours always stood out. He did hope he’d see you again, and it seemed that fate was on his side because there you were resting safely, with total trust in his arms…

The stoicism returned the following day because he didn’t want to risk perhaps being a toy in a game between you and Caleb…because if you asked he would be there for you again however you wanted him. He’d be at your beck and call if it’s what you wanted. But even still, you were kind and assured him that he was right, that this couldn’t happen again and that was that.

…ONE WEEK AGO …

  Harry had imagined that it would be a while before the impression you’d left on him would fully wear off…that he’d stop fantasizing about you eventually…but here he was, six months later and feeling his irritation swelling as he watched Caleb flirting a bit with Tamika, his intern. Tamika was great. She was the top undergraduate business student at NYU. And yes, Tamika was a beautiful young woman, but he had boundaries unlike some people, and she was also gay. Maybe Cal didn’t know that, or perhaps he didn’t care…after his encounters with Y/N he started to realize just how much of a flirt he was. But as long as people weren’t complaining or Cal wasn’t wreaking havoc amongst his employees there was nothing Harry could really reprimand him about and that kind of pissed him off.

“You’re crazy, Cal!” Tamika laughed as she came up to his office door and opened it up the rest of the way, “Give me just a second and then I’ll leave you guys to it.” She assured him. “Harry, Dr. Dopico’s assistant called, her meetings are running about an hour late. I called Dean Sundaram and he said he’s flexible to what you decide. So do you want me to push your dinner plans or reschedule the meeting with NYU?” She asked him.

“Depends on what Caleb’s here to tell me…” Harry said as he smiled at Cal. He had been working on landing this potentially huge account that would be the thing that pushed him into billionaire status by the end of the year. There was some suspense in the air, but when Caleb started to grin, Harry chuckled knowingly.

“We got it.” Caleb confirmed and Harry was elated. Tamika was screaming, jumping up and down because she had been involved in the investment proposal writing and service planning that was presented to this client. This was huge for her resume and CV for grad school. Harry liked hiring students because he felt it was important for them to really apply what they learned in class, like he had. His dad was a beast in business and now Harry was too and he wanted to give others the same opportunities to learn and grow in a real world setting. But more importantly, being a billionaire would help him to launch forth tons of charitable and educational projects around the globe, like the one he was meeting Dr. Dopico for. He wanted to do more and be able to help more people and now, he could do it at a scale that actually made a difference.They all hugged briefly in celebration of what this meant for each of them.

“I’ll push your dinner reservations and update your talking points for the meeting with Dr. Dopico.” Tamika said before hurrying out of his office. 

“Excellent job, Caleb! This is great news.” Harry was beaming despite his internal irritation towards his CFO. And then his smile dropped a bit as he wondered if Caleb would be sharing his big news with you tonight or someone else?

“Man, we all put in our piece. I’m glad we understood the client and them us, that’s what it came down to.” He smiled happily.

“Great work leading the team for this account though…ummm, I know I’m more reserved at work but I think this calls for a celebration with the team that made this possible.” Harry said, as his mind shot back to you. He wanted to see you.

“Oh no Harry, don’t worry about that-”

“No please, I insist! This is huge, I just want to properly thank you all for your dedication. Nothing wild, just a dinner? A nice formal one at my home up in Quogue, we can do it there. Everyone can bring a date and I mean, as you know, I have plenty of guest rooms if anyone gets a little too drunk, there’s room for everyone.” He said and Caleb smiled.

“If you’re really up for it I’m sure the team would really go for it.” Caleb assured.

“Cool. I’ll get something together tonight and send you guys an invitation. Plan for next Saturday, alright?” He said.

“Sounds good, thanks Harry.” Caleb said before heading out.

… PRESENT DAY …

Harry wanted to see you again, that’s why he had planned this dinner. He knew that the chances of Caleb bringing you tonight were next to none, but he just needed to take the shot in the dark because he was losing his mind thinking about you and not knowing. And maybe seeing you on your husband’s arm would be the thing to snap him out of this infatuation he had over you. Harry was a bit nervous as he had just run off for a moment to make a quick phone call to his dad that he’d been putting off for the last hour since he was awaiting Caleb’s arrival. He hoped to God he didn’t miss you making your entrance if Cal did bring you along.

“Yes dad, we have exclusivity. Alright…yes, bye.” Harry mumbled and hung up before shutting off his phone, no more work, he deserved to celebrate tonight.

“Mr. Hargrove has arrived.” Gerard came up to him informing him, like Harry had requested he do earlier.

“Oh, wonderful! Ummm…did he… bring anyone with him?” Harry asked and Gerard nodded, “Anyone you recognized?”

“No, but ummm, sir. He’s…married? He’s brought his wife.” He said and Harry couldn’t even suppress his smile.

“Are you sure?” He asked he asked with a pounding heart.

“Yes. He introduced her as such.” Gerard shrugged.

“Was she the most effortlessly beautiful woman you’d ever seen?” Harry asked, twinkles of adoration were already visible in his eyes.

“I couldn’t say…the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen is my wife.” He said and Harry grinned.

“That’s really good, mate.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Gerard smiled timidly.

“Alright, I’ll go say hello.” Harry said and headed back to the large, bright dining room. He tried to be slow about it so that he could spot you first but you weren’t there. But he did see Caleb lingering near the bar, his eyes fixed on something else. He was alone, so he decided to approach him first. “Cal!” He called out to Caleb, who then turned quickly and immediately smiled. “It’s great to see you.” Harry stated with a bright, charismatic smile as he extended his hand to shake Caleb’s.

“Hey, likewise! Thanks for having us over.” He said as he shook Harry’s hand quickly. Harry smiled a bit brighter as he pulled his hand back, he didn’t miss the detail of Caleb thanking him for having “us” over. Maybe you were here. 

Harry was about to respond when a bright color in his peripheral vision diverged his attention from Caleb; he turned in it’s direction and he swore that the earth stood still as he saw you descending into the dining area. You were a vision. Your beauty and confidence commanded the attention of the room, he swore everyone grew silent as you looked around with a kind smile on your lips, eyes darting around to find a familiar face. Finally your eyes met his and he was fighting against every instinct that made him want to rush over to you with a smile so wide it hurt.

Harry felt the air being stolen from his lungs at the sight of you in that gorgeous gown and the way it framed your body. You looked sensational and his fingers were itching to get to touch your skin again. He longed to trace all of the spots that were exposed on you with his lips, kissing at you delicately and with reverie. He had no idea how he would be able to not just stare at you all evening long, it would certainly be a challenge. He was already shaking off the sinful thoughts he was having of you as you approached.

“Ah, perfect timing!” Caleb’s voice called him back down to reality, “Harry, this is Y/N, my wife. Sweetheart, this is Harry Styles, CEO of the firm.” Cal introduced you two. You were smiling up at him cooly, but he could see the sparkles in your eyes as they met his own once more. And oh…? Were you using the triangle method on him? Harry couldn’t help but gently bite down on his lip as his eyes glanced down to yours briefly.

“Mr. Styles, it’s wonderful to finally meet you.” You said to him as you extended your hand and he was gentle as he took your hand in his and gave it a shake.

“You as well, Y/N. Call me Harry, I insist.” He said with what he imagined was a polite smile, but to you he looked like a kid who was trying too hard to keep a secret to themselves. You wanted to hug him and it was almost cruel to have to pretend like you didn’t know of each other.

“Alright. Thank you, Harry.” You said and he smiled and nodded.

“Can I offer you guys a drink?” He asked and you were the first to nod.

“Please.” You said quietly, but with zeal.

*********

You nearly had a cardiac event when you saw that Harry was already with Caleb when you walked in. You were hoping to at least have something to hang on to prior to interacting with Harry. It excited you that he was so excited to see you, or so it seemed! You were just as thrilled to see him, even just feeling the warmth of his hand in yours made you start to spark up from the inside out. Your throat suddenly felt dry and you needed a drink, so you were quick to accept when he offered to head to the bar. 

“What can I get you, Harry?” The man at the bar asked with a smile.

“Just a whisky highball for me-”

“Make it two, please.” You spoke up and he glanced to you with a small smile.

“2 whisky highballs and for you, sir?” He asked Caleb.

“A scotch, neat.”

“Coming right up.” The guy said and turned to start on their drinks.

“Well it’s good to meet some fellow whisky lovers.” Harry said, sparking up some conversation. 

“Right! I got lucky with this one! Usually women can’t handle whisky.” Cal added and you saw how Cal’s mildly sexist statement made Harry furrow his brows a bit.

“I don’t think it’s so much a sex thing, it’s just the flavor is definitely one to train your palate for. Everyone struggles with it a bit at first.” Harry said and you nodded in agreement. “I mean, in my experience, women handle their liquor far better than any men I know.” Harry added and you smiled.

“I have to agree with Harry. Don’t see too many women forgetting to be decent human beings after a drink or two.” You said and Harry chuckled, but you could feel Cal’s unamused glance on you for a moment. “Well anyway, your house is gorgeous, by the way. Can’t wait to see it in the daylight.” You complimented and he nodded.

“Oh, so you two plan on staying tonight?” Harry asked with an arch in his eyebrows, his eyes quickly finding yours until Cal spoke up.

“Yeah, we’re staying. I want to let loose tonight and I do not trust her driving my Quattroporte.” Cal chuckled and you let out a fake chuckle, but Harry didn’t miss as you rolled your eyes.

“Well I hope you’ll enjoy the stay. I mean, if you’re early risers, the sunrise is definitely something you don’t want to miss.” Harry said, his eyes meeting yours briefly. 

“Here is the scotch neat.” The bartender said and when Caleb leaned forward to grab his drink you and Harry smiled at each other briefly, “And the two whisky highballs.” He added, causing you both to turn and also reach for your drinks. You all took a moment to try your drinks and you hummed.

“This is excellent. Thank you so much.” You complimented the bar tender.

“Thank you, enjoy.” He said before turning around to clean his area a bit.

“Well, now I know who to invite to the whisky bars.” Harry said with a charming smile and Cal chuckled.

“Definitely! We do know some pretty great ones in the city, don’t we sweetheart?” He turned to you and you nodded.

“Yeah. Haven’t been in a while but I’m sure they’re still stand up places.” You assured.

“What do you mean? We just went right around easter!” Cal looked at you incredulously and you knew that wasn’t true because he hadn’t been around consistently until the summer.

“Maybe you’ve gone with someone else more recently.” You said to him and his eyebrows furrowed, “A client or a friend perhaps, we haven’t gone there together since…at least a year ago.” You pointed out and he frowned a bit.

“Oh, you’re right…yeah, I think I went with someone else. Sorry, sweets.” He said and you smiled and shook your head.

“S’alright. You deal with lots of people so the outings blur together, I’m sure.” You assured him and he chuckled and nodded.

“Yeah. Ummm, I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick, can you hold this for me?” Caleb asked you and you nodded.

“Sure.”

“When I’m back I’ll introduce you to everyone else.” He assured before he excused himself to you and Harry and then hurried off. As soon as he was gone you put down Cal’s drink on the bar top as you felt the tension between you and Harry becoming palpable. You turned around to say something to him when another woman walked up to both of you.

“Excuse me, Harry?” She said and he turned his attention to the young woman who had walked up.

“Hey, Tamika! Glad you could make it!” He greeted her happily with a hug. She then proceeded to introduce her girlfriend, Giselle to Harry as well.

“This place is incredible, thank you so much for inviting us.” Giselle said and he nodded with a smile.

“Of course, happy to have you guys here! Ummm, let me also introduce you guys to Y/N, Cal is her husband.” He said and Tamika’s eyes widened.

“Oh wow! I didn’t know Cal had gotten married. Congratulations! I’m Tamika, this is my girlfriend, Giselle.” She greeted and you smiled.

“Oh yeah, thanks! Nice to meet you Tamika and Giselle.” You said, extending a hand to one and then the other.

“Tamika is my intern/assistant. She’s the top business student at NYU and she’s just finishing up her undergrad.” Harry bragged and you smiled.

“Oh wow, congrats! Are you thinking about grad school?” You asked Tamika, who nodded.

“Yeah! Applications are due soon and I’m just trying to narrow down my options.” She explained to you.

“You know Y/N, Tamika is interested in USC…” Harry mentioned to you with a small, suggestive grin and your eyebrows arched up.

“Are you really?” You asked as you turned back to her and she nodded.

“Yeah, but it’s so competitive so I’m keeping my options open.” She explained.

“Well I ummm, I actually went to Marshall for my MS degrees. So I have connections, I still keep in touch with a lot of the faculty there. I can certainly put in a good word for you if you decide to apply.”

“Wait. Are you serious?” She asked with shock in her eyes and Giselle was just as shocked.

“Completely serious! I mean, if Harry’s working with you I’m sure it shows a lot of promise and potential. USC would be lucky to have you.” You said with a smile.

“Yes, she’ll take any help you can give her. I’m going there so please anything to help us reunite!” Giselle cut in and you all chuckled.

“I’ll give you one of my business cards before you leave, that way you can reach out to me when you apply. I’m sure I can set up a little meet and greet with someone on the admissions board.” You said to her.

“Wow, yes I would love that. Thank you so much.”

“Yeah, of course. What about you Giselle?” You asked her and then she went on to explain that she was actually also going to USC but to the Thornton School of Music, it was her first semester. This gave them all something more to talk about before Cal returned. Caleb seemed to have good rapport with Tamika, which aided in allowing you and Harry to continue stealing glances of each other as they spoke. 

But soon enough Caleb was excusing you both from Harry’s side and taking you around introducing you to a few others. He wasn’t really flaunting you like he said he wanted to though, something was off with him. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but he seemed distracted even, leaving you to do most of the talking to his coworkers while he just darted his eyes around the room. It was hard to focus on the people you were meeting when you could feel Harry’s gaze burning into you from across the room. It was making it hard to focus on the people who kept asking you questions about yourself and trying to hide their surprise as Caleb introduced you as his wife. Obviously, you knew about Cal omitting this information from Harry and from Gerard earlier, but it was getting to you the more it happened.

“Hey Cal, nice to see you!”

“Hey Amir! Likewise.” He said shaking the man’s hand.

“Thanks. This is my son, Louay. He is interested in business so I brought him along to show him how we reap the rewards of it.” He chuckled, smiling at the young man with pride. “And who’s this lovely lady on your arm?” Amir asked and Cal turned to you for a moment.

“Uh, this is my wife, Y/N.” He said and you politely extended your hand out to him. But Amir’s eyes rounded out as his eyebrows arched up in surprise.

“Oh wow! I had no idea you were married!” He said with a bright smile and shook your hand. You felt Cal’s wary gaze on you but just continued smiling at Amir as you greeted him and then his son. But Cal knew you well enough to notice the anger and frustration that were radiating off of you. You made some small talk with Amir and Louay and were interrupted by one of the staff announcing that dinner was about to be served. You glanced towards the table and your eyes met Harry’s who quickly glanced at the seats nearest to where you were before looking back at you. He wanted to sit beside you…but how? Unless you or him sat in the middle…which just wasn’t going to work.

“Cal, project leader, come here man.” Harry called and Cal grabbed your hand and pulled you along. You bit your lip as you thought of something and then slipped your hand out of his and he turned around and your eyes met.

“What’s the matter?” He asked and you gave him a look of irritation.

“Why’re your coworkers so shocked to meet me, Cal?” He sighed.

“Not now, Y/N.” He said lowly, pleading eyes on yours as you crossed your arms stubbornly.

“I don’t want to sit beside you.” You said and he sighed.

“Fine.” He accepted before he turned around to walk the few feet to the table, but you sped ahead of him.

“You can sit beside him, Harry.” You said and then took a seat beside a woman named Andrea. She’d been a bit shy, but you felt better knowing Harry was beside you and Tamika was settling in across from you. As soon as he scooted his chair in you felt his thigh brushing up against yours; it was a tight fit around the table, so you were all a bit close. Your lips twitched up in a smile when he glanced at you quickly. He spread his legs further and you nudged at him a bit, trying to keep a straight face. Caleb was distracted talking to the person on his left and so Harry reached off to the side, as if he was going to grab his chair, but then you felt his fingers just graze the outside of your thigh. The slit on your dress leaving your skin exposed and available for him to touch. You let out a breathy giggle and his lips twitched up in a small grin. When you glanced up at him through your lashes he bit his lip for a second.

“I wish I could have you as my main course.” He whispered with a smirk and then placed his hands back on the tabletop. Your body tingled as a chill passed through you, you wished that you could touch him at the very least. Every now and again your thighs would brush, but he was mostly talking to Caleb and you were just focused on your food because if you looked at Harry you would end up doing something stupid in front of all these people.

When the first course was brought in you smiled excitedly at just how beautiful and delicious the starter looked. It was a miso citrus salad, your mouth watered at the fresh scent emanating from the dish. And then you felt a gaze on you and you quickly looked up and your eyes met with the girl sitting at Tamika’s left, as soon as your eyes met her gaze flitted off to something else. Over and over it was happening, you kept making awkward eye contact with her. Finally you got the chance to look at her while something else had her attention; you wanted to see if maybe you knew each other from somewhere. you observed the slightly pained look in her eyes and the small frown on her lips. So you followed her line of sight and stopped at Harry, but he was leaned down eating his food. And when you leaned back a bit and saw Cal mirroring this woman’s expression the realization hit you like a ton of bricks. That was her! His mistress. Suddenly you lost your grip on your fork and it clanked against the porcelain plate loudly several times, causing everyone to look at you. You blinked a few times and forced a smile.

“Sorry, butter fingers.” You excused and everyone chuckled before they resumed their previous actions. You look down at your plate of food and suddenly felt disgusted by the fish and vegetables that had been unbelievably appetizing just moments before. Harry cleared his throat and you turned to him.

“Are you alright?” He asked lowly

“I ummm…I think so. I just…” you started and then just shook your head, “Never mind.” You smiled and forced yourself to have a bit more food. Thankfully, there was a nice break between the main course and dessert and so you took that time to go to the room and grab a business card for Tamika from your purse. You were just putting your wallet away when you heard the bedroom door open. You had hoped it was Harry, but when you heard the door click shut behind you quietly you knew it was Caleb. 

“Are you upset at me?” His voice was soft and had a hint of caution to it.

“You’ve been seeing someone else and she’s here tonight, isn’t she?” You said instead as you turned around, hands on your hips. You just wanted to know how much there was to it. You were ready to face this right now.

“Y/N-”

“She’s the only person you haven’t introduced me to, but she keeps looking at me from across the table and I saw how you two looked at each other-”

“She didn’t know I was married.” He said immediately and a sardonic smile came onto your lips.

“No one did! Apparently.” You said with irritation as you threw your hands up in irritation and he came closer to you.

“Look, we can be rational about this-”

“I think I’m responding pretty rationally to this situation, Caleb. Everyone thinks we’re fucking newly weds when I’ve given almost a decade of my life to you! We’ve been married seven years and you’ve been hiding it from people for three years?! Do you have any idea how this makes me feel? Why did you even ask me come tonight?” You questioned him and his lips dropped into a small frown. 

Maybe you didn’t love him like before, but having to hear over and over that no one knew about you was embarrassing and it was shaking your confidence to some extent. Why had he hidden your marriage so vehemently from everyone? Was it really just to be able to fuck around or was he ashamed of you for some reason? The not knowing was clawing at you horribly.

“I’m sorry. I just like to keep my personal life as separate as possible from my work and-”

“OK, that’s complete bullshit! Why would you do something as personal as fucking a coworker if you wanted to keep the personal and professional separate?” You challenged his rationale and he ran his hand down his face, a physical sign of his stress weighing him down.

“Y/N, I don’t think this is the time and place to talk about this.” He said cooly.

“Then I’d like to leave so we can discuss this at home.” You said with finality.

“I don’t want to go yet, Y/N. And I know I’m in no position to ask this of you, but I’d like to get my thoughts together before we talk about this. It’s…it’s a lot.” He said and you rolled your lips together as you felt your eyes starting to well up a bit as your simmering anger started to reach its boiling point.

“Fine.” You said softly and just walked past him and out of the bedroom. 

You closed the door behind you and just took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly to calm down. You hated so much that you cried when you were angry, but the emotion was just not one you felt often enough to know how to deal with it properly. You squeezed your eyes shut for a second to will the frustration away, but you were absolutely humiliated. It was believable and even excusable for Harry not to have known Cal was married. One typically does not to talk about their personal business with their boss, but to blatantly lie to everyone else he worked with and communicated with day to day? That was something else. Once you were calm enough you made your way back to the dining area. As soon as you sat down you felt the woman from across the table looking at you. You just glanced up to her, catching her gaze for a few seconds and she went beet red before looking away. 

You could only imagine how she felt having to see you there. He lied to her too and by the looks of it, she hadn’t taken it well. Suddenly everything started falling into place…the reason for why two months ago out of the blue Cal was home more and loving on you even more and spending time with you…something had happened between them and ruined the relationship, if he had been with her this entire time. He could’ve been with multiple people to your knowledge.

“Is everything alright?” Harry’s voice pulled you from your thoughts and you turned your head to him and shook your head.

“Is there another room I can stay in tonight? Or even just a motel or something nearby? I don’t want to be here anymore, Harry. I need to be as far away from Cal as possible.” You said softly and he frowned.

“Uh yeah, there are bedrooms upstairs as well. But I can find out about a motel nearby if you’d prefer that.” He offered. You saw Cal returning to the room from your peripherals.

“I’ll let you know.” You said before you turned back to the table and grabbed your cocktail and drank the remainder in one go. 

Shortly after, dessert was being placed before you all. It was a gorgeous tiramisu, one of your favorites, but you only picked at it for a bit, not really in the mood to eat or to chat with anyone any more. Harry would’ve probably talked to you, but Cal was engaged in a never-ending conversation with Harry so that he could constantly keep an eye on you; you could feel Cal’s scrutinous gaze on you. You just felt like the odd one out and you wanted this night to be over. 

Even when you all migrated to a lounge room to chat you noticed that he had tried and failed several times to approach this other woman. After about the third attempt Cal just started ordering drinks with reckless abandon and eventually headed off with a couple others to the billiard room, or at least that’s what you heard from their loud and drunken conversation. Harry was busy bidding farewell to those who were heading home for the night. It looked like Tamika was getting ready to go and you’d been meaning to chat with her again, but the woman from across the table had been with her the whole time. But as of now, she was nowhere to be found so you approached Tamika and Giselle before she returned from wherever she had gone to.

“Are you guys heading off as well?” You asked the two.

“Yeah. I’ve got a big exam on Monday that I need to study for tomorrow.” Tamika explained.

“Oh OK, best of luck! Ummm here’s my card though. If you decide to apply to Marshall let me know and like I said earlier, I’d be happy to help you network with the recruiters and faculty.” You reaffirmed.

“That’s just really kind of you, Y/N. Thank you so much. If there’s anything I can do to repay you for this-”

“Oh my gosh, no Tamika! If you decide to go there just keep doing your very best, that’s all.” You said, “Of course if only to make me look good…” You joked with a giggle, despite your low mood, and Tamika and Giselle laughed along with you.

“You’re too sweet. I hope Cal brings you around more!” She said and you just nodded and smiled, “If he doesn’t I’ll badger him about it.” She added with a playfully menacing tone and you just chuckled.

“You guys are all great, I’m glad I was able to come along tonight.” You said genuinely. You were about to ask them how far their drive was when Tamika lit up a bit.

“Dani!” Tamika called out as she looked past you and waved at the person she was calling over. You turned around and saw that, that was the woman from across the table and she looked petrified, “Come here!” Tamika insisted and you swallowed thickly as she made her way over.  Her eyes darted around the room, probably trying to find Caleb, but he was drunk and playing pool in another room of the house. When she was finally within reach, Tamika dragged her into her side, “Dani, this is Y/N. She’s Caleb’s wife!” She informed her excitedly and you saw in real time how Dani’s face started to pale as she swallowed thickly, which could only mean one thing. You looked around, trying to act quickly before she puked all over you, her friends, and herself. Finally, you saw a garbage can near the entrance of the room and just grabbed her hand and dragged her over to it. You had just put it in her hands when she started to throw up. You looked away, starting to feel disgusted at the sounds of her heaving and Tamika and Giselle rushed over to her.

“Wow, good save.” Giselle said to you and you just nodded as you turned to Giselle with a relieved expression.

“Yeah, I’d know that look anywhere.” You said as Tamika rubbed over her friend’s back as she just spat the taste out of her mouth. Dani’s tearful eyes met yours and you just offered her a sympathetic smile. Poor woman.

“Thank you.” She rasped out and you nodded.

“Yeah, of course.” You assured her. Just then Harry walked in and his eyes widened a bit upon seeing you four huddled up at the entrance of the room. 

“Harry, have you got some mouth wash and pepto or something for Dani? She got sick to her stomach.” Tamika explained to him and he nodded.

“Yeah, of course! Follow me.” He said and they went off with him, trash can and all.

“If her boyfriend comes back can you tell him we’ll meet him in the foyer?” Giselle asked you and you nodded.

“Yeah, of course.” You said with a smile and a nod.

“Thank you. And it was so nice to meet you, thank you for being so kind.” Giselle said as she hugged you briefly.

“It’s no problem at all! Drive safe.” You said and she thanked you as she hurried off to catch up with Tamika. It was just moments later when the man who had been sitting beside the person you now knew as Dani, came into the room and glanced around. “You’re Dani’s boyfriend?” You asked him and he nodded. “She had something to take care of with Harry and Tamika, they told me to tell you that they will meet you in the foyer.”

“Oh, cool. Thanks.” He smiled before hurrying out of the room. 

There were just a few more people in the room you were in, but they were laughing and chatting amongst themselves, so you were once again the odd one out. You decided to head off to the bedroom you’d been given and just get the toiletries you had unpacked back into your bag so that you could be ready to relocate. A few light knocks on the door caught your attention and you hurried over to open it. You saw Gerard standing there with a polite smile.

“Good evening, Miss. Mr. Styles informed me that you wanted to change your sleeping arrangements?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yes, please.” You said and he nodded.

“Certainly. He mentioned that you wanted a bit of space. I can offer you a bedroom upstairs? I called the motels in town and they are all booked out unfortunately.” He explained.

“Upstairs is just fine.” You assured him with a smile, “Thank you, Gerard.” 

“Not a problem. Can I take your bag for you?”

“Oh no, it’s alright. Just show me where to go.”

“No Miss, I insist.” He said and you smiled at him as you grabbed your overnight bag and handed it to him and he smiled, “Wonderful, follow me.” He said and you followed him through the house. You could hear the absurd commotion from the billiard room and just rolled your eyes as you followed Gerard upstairs. The lights on the sconces were dimmed, but you could still see how beautiful everything was. “I’m going to give you the room that Mr. and Mrs. Styles stay in when they visit from England.” He informed you, “You’ll have a balcony and a lovely view of the water from it.”

“Oh wow, thank you. I hear the sunrises are to die for.” You hummed.

“They certainly are captivating.” He agreed with you. He opened up the door when you finally arrived and he switched on the lights. Your eyes widened at the beautiful, modern set up of the room. You swore you had seen this room on Pinterest or something. A king sized bed, all to yourself? Yes, please. You thought as you smiled.

“This is amazing.” You said as you looked around. Gerard had just set your bag down on the little bench in front of the bed.

“I’m glad it’s to your satisfaction. Now the lights can be controlled with this remote.” He explained, showing it to you and then placing it back down on the bench. “And your bathroom is through there.” He said pointing to a door in the far right of the bedroom, “There’s a small cabinet by the shower that contains extra towels and washcloths, you can just leave them in the hamper if you use anything. The closet is in there as well. And the balcony is just through those doors.” He said pointing to the double glass doors that were partially covered by some long, floor length curtains.

“Perfect, thank you.” 

“My pleasure. And, I am sorry if I contributed to any unpleasantness between you and Mr. Hargrove. I had no intent to stir up-”

“Oh my god, no.” you pouted at him in endearment, “Don’t feel bad about a thing, Gerard. Frankly it’s…been a long time coming. It wasn’t because of you.” You assured him, “I appreciate your help tonight.” You smiled at him.

“Is there anything else I can do for you before I head out for the night?” He asked.

“Can you just thank Harry for me? Just for, indulging me.” You said with a small smile.

“Certainly.” He nodded.

“Thank you, again for all your help. Good night.” You smiled at him.

“Good night, Miss.” he said before hurrying out of the room. 

Once you were alone you dimmed down the bedroom lights before drawing the heavy curtains and slipping out onto the balcony. You shivered for a few seconds as you adjusted to the slightly cooler temperature outside as you leaned against the railing of the balcony. The lack of light from the bedroom helped you see the starry sky even better. And you sighed in relief as you could hear the waves crashing into the shore not too far off in the distance. The peace and silence in your brain lasted for just a few minutes.

You just couldn’t stop thinking about Dani now…how she literally threw up at the sight of you. She probably felt awful and guilty and you wished you could just tell her that you weren’t angry at her. That you didn’t blame her. She had been deceived just as much as you had. What was frustrating for you was that you were completely in the dark about Cal. You thought you knew the man you were married to, but evidently that wasn’t the case. It didn’t even matter what you lost at this point, there was no way of moving past something like this. Your marriage was through…both of you had cheated now, so what was the point? 

The sound of a door closing startled you and you whipped around quickly and saw Harry leaning back on the bedroom door. He offered you a timid smile as he started to walk across the space, but it was contagious to see his smile widening the closer he came. He met you out on the balcony and as soon as he was before you he sighed in relief and grabbed your hands.

“You look absolutely divine. You’re exquisite. Literal perfection.” He hummed softly, “Been dying to tell you all night.” He complimented you. His voice was soft as he spoke to you and you smiled at him coyly.

“Thank you.” Was all you could say as every other thought in your head vanished as you stood before him. Finally.

“Want to talk about what happened?” He asked you.

“I probably should.” You said and he smiled.

“I’ll listen if you want me to.” He assured you and you sighed.

“So obviously no one knew Cal was married and like…I don’t know, it got to me. Like I just feel humiliated a bit. Like…I don’t know if he did it on purpose to just, push me over the edge? But like, how did he expect people to react? And I think…well, I know now actually, that he’s been sleeping with some woman named Dani.” Harry looked surprised, “I don’t know for how long or if there’s more. She’d been avoiding me all night and Tamika introduced us and she just…got sick. I mean, she obviously didn’t know he was married and god, she probably feels like the worst person, you know?” You said with a frown. “Like how could he do that to someone? Poor woman.” You shook your head.

“So you’re upset that the other woman is feeling guilty.” He asked with a small smile and you shrugged.

“I know how insane that makes me sound but like…she didn’t know about me. That’s not fair to her. And like, I’ve at least known for a bit and have made peace with it…but who knows how she found out that she was the other woman. From the way he’s been acting I’d say it wasn’t good.”

“So what now?” Harry asked. You knew that his question was a lot more complex than how he posed it. There were subliminal implications that were being addressed without him having to ask them directly and it made you feel just a little bit better about all of this. He still cared. Whether his interest in you was platonic, solely carnal, or even romantic, he was asking because he wanted to know what this could mean for you two.

“Cal said he wants to talk about it after he gathers his thoughts because “it’s a lot”, or something like that.” You responded as you turned back to the vast darkness ahead of you.

“Do you think he wants to end it?” Harry asked cautiously.

“I have no idea, but I want to end it.” You said with certainty and well, Harry had no business feeling happy about that (selfishly, of course) but he remained composed with a slight furrow in his brow as he listened to you, “I mean, what’s the point of this sham of a marriage?” You asked through a sardonic laugh. “He’s been unfaithful for who knows how long, I’ve stopped letting myself love him and have also…committed adultery. Thank you very much for that, by the way.” You added with a teasing grin and a side glance, he smirked in response.

“Happy to be of service. By the way.” He replied haughtily and you both laughed softly. “So you…you want a divorce?” He asked to clarify and you nodded.

“I first thought about it after we spent the night together.” You shared, “I just…realized how much of my own heart had been out of it to like…go through with what we did and not feel remorse or anything close to it. But then he started trying again and so I took that card off of the table. But now that I’ve learned he’s been lying to everyone and living a double life I feel like I’m married to a stranger. Like who was I kidding? This has been over for a long time. So stupid…” You sighed in disappointment.

“You’re not stupid. A marriage is a huge commitment. Of course you’re going to try if you see him trying. But hey, now you’ve seen all the facets of the situation and you’ve made a choice for yourself, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You responded softly.

“Are you…are you alright?”

“Yeah, I think so. Just…letting the reality of it all sink in.” You said before exhaling. The exhale felt cathartic, like all your troubles would be gone soon just like that little puff of air released from your lungs. The silence between you two was nice, only the sounds of the waves on the shore were detectable and it was perfect.

“Can I…hold you?” He asked, breaking the silence and you nodded up at him and he turned and stepped closer as he opened up his arms and you stepped into his embrace. You inhaled deeply as your head rested against his shoulder and his arms squeezed tight around your body, “What can I do to make you feel better?” He asked and you smiled.

“This.” You assured and he smiled, “This is perfect. I needed a hug after this shit show of a night.” You hummed and he smiled as he let his cheek rest atop of your head. A comfortable silence settled over you both before you spoke up.

“I’m sorry it sucked so much for you, but it was kind of perfect for me.” He shared and you smiled, “I threw this party just…hoping Cal would bring you along. It was a fucking long shot but he did!” he chuckled and you did as well, “And now you’re here and I couldn’t be more pleased.” He said happily. You could hear the smile in his voice.

“I didn’t know you were throwing the party until we were about to arrive.” You confessed and he chuckled, “He had said it was with a few work friends, so I had accepted because I was just excited to meet some people Cal worked with. He told me to look sexy so he could "show me off”. When I found out about this being your party I was scared that you’d think I was just trying to seduce you by showing up like this.” You said and he chuckled.

“I know we don’t know each other that well, but I know that’s not how you are.” He said and you smiled.

“Yeah, definitely not.” You assured.

“You do look sensational though, you definitely met the mark.” He said and you chuckled a bit before you both just settled into the comfortable silence. He felt like a friend you’d known for ages. He was a person who you could be your authentic self around. It was rare to feel so safe with someone.

“Harry…do you think there’s any left over tiramisu?” You asked randomly, “S’my favorite dessert but I couldn’t really stomach mine when they served it.” You explained and you felt his body shake a bit as he chuckled.

“S’my favorite too so I know they made extra if only for me to take it home.” He responded, the smile he was wearing made evident by the tone of his voice. “Wanna get changed or get down there like this?” He asked.

“I think change first. Don’t want to risk getting the dress dirty…knowing me, I eat like a child.” You said and he chuckled as he gave you a bit harder of a squeeze before he started to let go.

“Alright then. I’ll change as well and ummm, I’ll come by and get you, yeah?”

“OK.” You smiled. You walked back in with him and left him at the bedroom door before he was off down the hall. You watched him until he turned around and gave you a final smile as he disappeared behind the last door down the hall. 

You proceeded to slip back into your own room and got your pajamas out of your bag. You also decided to get your makeup off while you were at it and were just toning your face when there were a few knocks on the door. You hurried over and opened it up to let him in.

“Just need to get my moisturizer on and then we can go.” You said and he nodded and followed you inside. He busied himself with closing up the balcony and just waiting for you at the foot of the bed. “Ready.” You said as you came out of the bathroom and he smiled and started guiding you down stairs. Upon making it down you guys could hear the muffled sounds of the others who had stayed in the billiard room. It was nearing 1am and they were drunk, so hopefully they passed out quickly. Harry guided you down a dark hallway before he pushed open a swinging door and switched on the lights. You had to blink a few times to adjust your vision, but then he switched on a warmer pair before getting the fluorescent ones off.

“God, I forget how bright these are.” He whinged and you giggled.

“This is like a proper restaurant kitchen.” You hummed as you looked around.

“Yeah, I usually use this home for holidays. Obviously, we don’t want to do the cooking then so we hire a chef for when we stay here. Or we do a lot of parties here as well, so again, it’s just convenient for how it’s used.” He explained as he headed over to the refrigerator and then he turned around quickly, “By “we” I mean my parents and other family.” He clarified and you chuckled.

“I figured. Gerard mentioned something to me about how the room he gave me is your parents’ favorite room to stay in or something?”

“Yeah.” He smiled and then looked through it to find the extra serving of the cake and he finally did and pulled it out. “Here we are.” He said and put it down on the counter before grabbing some forks, “Are we being civilized or eating from the container?” He inquired.

“Whatever you think is best. But be warned that I might feel like I need to eat it all if we have it in the container.” You joked and he chuckled.

“Plates it is…” he played along and you giggled as he just grabbed one from a nearby cabinet, “We can share.” He said as he came back over and you sighed as he started digging into the surface of the cake to break off a piece for you two.

“Fine…” you accepted dramatically and he smirked. Without even asking he just stopped and pulled his fork further back to make the slice larger, which caused you to laugh softly. “I was joking.” You clarified and his eyes drew away from his task and met yours knowingly.

“No you weren’t.” He said with a grin and you just laughed. Once he got that done he put the container back in the fridge and when he turned he found you already digging your fork into the cake. “Didn’t even have the decency to wait?” He scoffed jokingly and you grinned.

“It looks incredible.”

“Yet you wasted a perfectly good slice at dinner…” he quipped back and you groaned and tossed your head back dramatically.

“I’m sorry!” You croaked out and he laughed and instinctually reached his arm out to wrap it around you and pull you into him. You went with him easily and when you glanced up at him he was smiling down at you.

“It’s alright, I forgive you.” He said softly and your lips curled up in an easy smile.

“There’s like…a vibe between us right? Like I’m not delusional, right?” You asked and you saw him flush a bit but he nodded.

“Yeah, definitely.” He said and you giggled.

“To there being a vibe with us or that I’m delusional?” You asked and his smile widened as he realized what he’d said and he chuckled, his eyes darted away from yours briefly out of the nerves he felt tickling through his body. Then there they were again, those gorgeous green eyes meeting yours again. They were so vibrant despite his widened pupils, a tell tale sign of his attraction. You wondered how big your pupils were right now.

“The vibe.” He clarified meekly and you hummed.

“I don’t know, but it just feels like I’ve known you for a really long time. It’s really nice.” You said with a simple shrug.

“Maybe we’ve met in other lives.” He said quietly.

“That’d be pretty cool actually.” You responded with a pensive look on your face. “Am I allowed to kiss you?” You asked him and he instantly bit his lip as he nodded and started to lean down. You started to press up on your toes to meet him halfway. It felt extraordinary to feels his smooth, warm lips pressing into yours gently.

And when you pulled back the smack of your lips felt like it echoed and your eyes blinked open and then his did as well. This hungry look was exchanged between you, practically forcing you to kiss again. And again, and again, and again in quick little pecks. After the next one he just groaned and smeared his mouth against yours sloppily before pushing his tongue into your mouth. You moaned at the intensity at which he came into it. Your skin was littered in goosebumps and a delicious tingle shot down your spine to your toes and then flew back up to your core. You sighed in pleasant surprise as your pussy’s muscles tightened up and fluttered around absolutely nothing at all in response to his hands sliding up under your flowy pajama shirt, sliding up your back and then scratching down it with a bit of force.

Your hands fisted at his shirt almost as if the action tethered you to reality. You loved the place your mind went to when you were around him. Again, a feeling of safety came to mind and you kissed him back harder and reached for his arms and pushed them down to feel your bottom. As soon as he got there he took over, feeling groping, squeezing your butt like he’d wanted to all night. He also wanted to kiss that little sliver of your lower back that was peeking out of the cutout on the dress you wore. 

“Can I pick you up?” He mumbled and you nodded before huffing out a yes. He reached down to your thighs and picked you up before placing you on the counter. His hands were on your face holding you still as he licked into you slowly, savoring your taste just in case your paths didn’t cross for a while again. “Can I go down on you?” His deep voice rasped out, lips smearing against yours as he spoke into the kiss. Your widening smile interrupted your kiss, “What?”

“I’m just…so happy to hear you ask that. Been getting off to the memory of how fucking good you are at that. I came so many times I think I saw God.” You laughed softly and he grinned.

“Like that you think of me when you play with yourself. I do too.” He confessed. “One time I even…said your name when I was with someone else.” He said and you winced.

“Ouch…how’d they take it?”

“Not too good.” He chuckled, “When we slept together…it was way too good.” He said with a reminiscent grin.

“Yeah, like oddly perfect!”

“Right. Like you were made for me. We fit so well.” He said as one of his hands came off your face and rubbed over the crotch of your shorts quickly. You sighed and parted your legs further, giving him more access to your achingly needy pussy. “Do you have underwear on?” He asked and you shook your head. He smiled and slid his fingers into your shorts through the leg opening. He rubbed over your sticky and swollen crease before wedging his fingers into it and swirling around your clit in slow and steady circles. You exhaled slowly in satisfaction, grinding your hips against him, getting yourself even more wet for him, he loved hearing it almost as much as feeling it, “God you’re so fucking wet for me.” He smiled and you hummed.

“Mhmm…Ready for a taste?” You asked and he nodded, “Go on then.” You encouraged him and he kissed you once more before dragging your shorts down by the elastic band. You lifted your hips up to help him out and he just dropped them on the ground as he crouched down and spread you open wider before delving in without a second to waste. You moaned in satisfaction as his thick, warm tongue lapped over your sensitive clit, catching just at the top of your opening every time he licked up. Your toes curled and your fingers dug in his hair as the edge of your orgasm caught you by surprise, hitting you almost as quickly as a strike of lightening. “Oh fuck, don’t stop! Don’t stop! I’m going to…I’m going to come!” You gasped out as you pushed his head closer, you were desperate and impressed by just how quickly your yearning for him caused your undoing. Harry sped up his licks and after one, two, and three accurate and precise licks right to your throbbing little clit your thighs started to tremble and your breathing to hitch a few times before you just moaned out his name. He moaned into you, staying true to his mission as you ground your pussy against his face, drawing your orgasm out, shivering as he kept licking at your clit like that until you felt like you were on fire. You stopped breathing for several moments, the feeling stunning your existence into a pause. Harry’s breathy chuckles against you interrupted the pleasure.

“Breathe, baby.” He reminded and your inhaled sharply.

“Fuck keep going!” You demanded, he didn’t hesitate before delving back in, this time sucking at your clit until you were trembling again, moaning in ecstasy as that double orgasm swept you into an orgasmic oblivion. Your ears rung and your brows furrowed as those magnificent and addicting feelings coursed through every inch of your body. “Thank you! Fuck that’s so fucking good…” you praised and he hummed against you, making your tummy flutter as he started to reduce the intensity of his mouth on you as your orgasm started to dwindle. You swore there were little shocks randomly nipping at your legs and you started to massage his scalp after the hard grip you had on his silky hair. He kissed your clit before kissing your left thigh and pushing himself up to attach your lips together. You loved the taste of yourself on his tongue, it was erotic and made you feel so proud of yourself. “Mmm…wanna feel you inside me.” You mumbled and he sighed.

“Should we go upstairs? I don’t have a condom on me.” He muttered against your cheek before kissing you there.

“S’okay. Want it just like this, just you and me.” You said softly, your eyes flickered up to his so that he could clearly see your intent.

“Don’t tempt me like that, baby.” He shook his head with a devilish grin twitching his lips up to the left.

“M’serious! I got an IUD after I found out that Cal was cheating.” You shared and his eyebrows arched up.

“Oh…I mean, if you really want to. I don’t mind either way.” He assured you.

“I want it. Like really, really badly.” You grinned and he smiled.

“OK.” He stated decidedly. His lips pressed to yours once more and you started to tug at his shirt. He reared back to strip it from his body and he dropped it to the ground before reaching for the hem of yours. You raised your arms to aid him as he undressed you. He smiled and his hands went right to your breasts. He gave them a firm squeeze and you chuckled as he groaned in excitement. “Sorry, I just fucking love your body. Been dying to touch you again.” He breathed out and you smiled. His hands then slid down to your hips as you reached for his sweats. You needed him now.

You tugged at the white ties that were fastening the bottoms to him more snuggly. Once they were untied you tugged down on them until they just dropped down his legs on their own. Your mouth watered as his thick cock fell forward, bouncing a few times from how heavy he was. You immediately brought your hand up and spit into it before wrapping it around his tip, playing with it as he moaned in pleasure. You stroked up and dragged his foreskin to the tip before stroking down and sliding it back away from his thick and leaking head. He filled you up so fucking good, it was too good to be true…

“Please fuck me, Harry.” You begged, inciting an absolutely feral response in him and he nodded before he pulled you back down to the ground, turned your around, and guided his tip to your entrance. He rubbed through your sopping folds, enjoying just how aroused you got for him, he pressed himself against your entrance and you moaned in anticipation of being stretched open around his enviable girth. Your eyes were screwed shut as you waited for him to push in. He started to surge forward, opening your little hole up with his ragingly stiff cock. Once he got about halfway he reached into your hair with one hand and grabbed you tight at your hip with the other as he plunged the rest of the way in hard. You both moaned, shrouded in ecstasy at the feeling of him being inside of you again. You’d both been waiting, dreaming, longing to be connected this way again. He pushed you down into the counter to properly bend you over and you gasped as your bare chest was smooshed into the tiramisu, the ceramic plate scraped against the counter from the collision.

“The cake!” You laughed quietly and he chuckled, but proceeded with thrusting into you and started increasing his pace.

“Fuck you feel so good!” He hummed in delight, relishing in the feeling of your slick walls creating a feeling of suction and pressure around his pulsating erection. He’d been dreaming of having you again and this felt better than the last time because now he knew that you wanted him just as badly. He shifted a bit and then grinned as he heard you gasp when he plunged right against your spot; he couldn’t forget that. He loved just how easily you’d fall apart in pleasure when you were stimulated there.

“Fuck!” You exclaimed as he started to quickly thrust into it, making your legs feel like jello. You reached down and found your clit and you started to rub, making your eyes rolled back as a satisfied smile curled onto your lips. Your fingers were a blur as you rubbed tight little circles against your clit and your tummy started to clench up and then inevitably your inner muscles and walls started to contract around Harry’s cock. He choked out a moan and squeezed your hips hard as he started to thrust harder, you were seeing stars now, “I’m about to come!” You warned and he groaned.

“Come on then, baby. Cream all over my big cock. Show me how fucking good we are together.” He grunted markedly and you moaned a bit too loudly but neither of you had a single fuck to give as his filthy talk pushed you over the edge. You smiled and dropped your head back against his shoulder as you started to come undone. He held you up as your legs became all wobbly beneath you with the aftershocks of your orgasm. He wasn’t slowing down just yet though, his thrusts were getting harder and more erratic; you were impressed by the strength he had. “I’m so fucking close…shit!” He hissed and you tightened up despite your sensitivity and he moaned deeply, “Fuck…I’m right there, baby!”

“Come inside me.” You suddenly requested and he groaned, “Please, Harry.” You keened and he swore he was imagining it.

“Yeah? Want me to finish inside your delicious little pussy?” He panted and you nodded.

“Please. Want it all inside! Need to feel you coming inside.” You begged and he panted heavily.

“Fuck, I’m…oh fuck, I’m coming!” He mumbled quickly before surging his hips forward and then tugging your hips back against him. He ground his cock into you as you felt him twitching with each rope of come he was unloading deep inside of you. Harry swore he was about to lose consciousness from how hard his orgasm hit him. He felt his knees trembling and one of his hands came up over yours on the counter, interlacing your fingers while simultaneously gripping to the counter for support. His deep moans were vibrating deep into your soul, or at least it felt that way as his body was smushed right against yours.

You could feel his warmth filling you up until you felt a bit dripping down your sticky folds. Harry caught his breath as he held himself in you for a few moments before slowly pulling out of you. “Oh shit, s’a lot.” He muttered quietly, “Hang on to the counter for a sec.” he instructed and you nodded as he hurried to grab a hand towel from the counter behind them. When he returned he dabbed at your entrance.

“I swear I’m in another dimension.” You mumbled and he chuckled.

“Push a little bit for me.” He instructed. You did as you were told and he ran the towel over your swollen and throbbing pussy again, the fibers of it tickling you just a bit. You then felt him drag it down your right inner thigh, before he sunk to the ground and cleaned whatever had dripped down to the floor. “Good to go.” He said softly as he pressed a kiss to the small of your back, to that spot he’d been dying to kiss ever since he saw you. 

He then got up and you turned around and he chuckled, your tits were certainly smeared over with mascarpone and coca powder. You shrieked as he lunged you onto the counter again and you grabbed the edge of it and squeezed as his lips found your already pebbled nipple and sucked it clean before licking over your supple breast, cleaning it of his favorite dessert. He hummed contently as he sucked a little mark against the the underside of it before moving over to the other one. Your fingers raked through his curls and you tugged a bit when he sucked at your nipple too harshly, pulling it into his mouth forcefully before biting down on it a bit until you giggled in slight discomfort until it dissolved into a moan and he smiled and popped off of it loudly. He chuckled and then kissed up your sternum, neck, jaw, and then your lips again. Your smile was sincere as he rubbed his forehead against yours a few times, making the moment feel a lot more intimate.

“Alright?” He asked you.

“Yeah, just still coming off it.” You assured him and he smiled.

“Good.” He hummed before closing his eyes and you did the same, just basking in the intimacy you shared until a thought crossed your mind.

“Once again I did not get my cake.” You sighed and he chuckled.

“Well you got something…” he joked and you sniggered, “Don’t worry, we’ll get you a new slice.” He assured you before planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Ummm…do you want to stay with me for a bit?” You asked timidly and he smiled.

“Definitely.” He confirmed.

So after getting dressed and getting another slice of the tiramisu, you were both making your way out of the kitchen quietly. You guys could still hear everyone else down the hall laughing and chatting animatedly, though you could tell they were all plastered. You made your way up the stairs and Harry dragged you down the hall to his bedroom, well it was more like a suite, so you cuddled up on to couch he had in front of the TV and you shared your cake as you watched Friends re-runs for a while.

“We should get you to bed.” You heard his voice through your drowsiness and yawned.

“Good idea.” You concurred, but you nuzzled closer to him instead of making a move to stand.

“Want me to carry you?” He asked and you smiled.

“If you really want to.”

“Yeah, come on then.” 

But after attempting and failing a few times because you both couldn’t stop laughing or making a serious attempt he just had you hop on piggy back. You leaned on his shoulder and held on tight as he walked you down the long hall and to the other bedroom. He walked you into the bathroom to brush your teeth and waited for you in the room. When you returned, a bit more awake now after dealing with the cold water, you cooed as he had turned down the bed for you. 

“Thank you, you’re too sweet.” You said caressing his cheek and he tutted.

“S’nothing. Get in.” He said and you did just that. The bed was as divine as it looked, you wanted one like this for yourself. He sat on the edge watching as you got comfy and once you were, you peered up to see him smiling down at you. Harry traced the high point of your cheekbone with his thumb, such a sweet and comforting gesture. 

“I ummm, I just want you to know that this isn’t just a sex thing to me.” He said quietly, “Like I’m not nice to you with the intent to fuck you. I like what I’ve seen of you so far and I just want to be there for you, you know? I want to get to know you. And I know things could get a bit complicated if you and Cal end things, so ummm we can just be friends until you resolve that if you want?” He asked.

“I think that would be wise.” You accepted. “I like you too and I also want to get to know more of you and I just don’t want to fall into something complex that could…hurt you while I’m already in the middle of this mess.” You said with a smile and he nodded.

“Sounds good. And I mean, I’m sure it’ll be hard even if your hearts aren’t in it anymore, so you call me when you need me, yeah?” He asked and you smiled.

“I will.” You assured and he smiled as he reached for the bedside table and handed over your phone so you could unlock it. He put his number in before setting it down on the bedside table again.

“There it is. I’m sorry it started out as a weird night, but I hope I made it a bit better for you.” He hummed and you giggled.

“That’s the understatement of the century, Harry.” You pointed out and he grinned bashfully.

“Don’t want to be too cocky, you know?” He said humbly and you shook your head with a grin. 

“Well yes, you made it better. Thank you again for everything tonight.” You expressed your gratitude.

“Course, love.” He said and kissed your lips quickly before making his way out of the room. 

You sighed and rolled onto your back with a big smile; you were completely enamored and taken by his way of being towards you. Of course, deep down you were a bit nervous about the big tell-all with Caleb, but you knew you were going to be alright after getting all of the information from him. There was nothing left to fight for with Caleb. Your heart was already drifting in another direction and you didn’t intend to do a single fucking thing about it.

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[starsopinions]

The Minecraft movie........

I've been playing Minecraft for as long as I can remember. My brother and I would spend hours on Hypixel, our survival world, and building escape rooms for each other (the exit would no doubt be behind a painting). As a movie fanatic, a film about Minecraft sounds like such a fun concept with great potential yet from the look from the teaser trailer it seems like all that potential will remain unused.

Link to the trailer if you haven't seen it yet!

Plenty of people have already commented on how it looks, which let’s be frank, is terrible. This post, however, is not about the look but the story so here is a summary: The set design is quite nice except it does not look like any Minecraft biome. The people look extremely out of place, especially Steve who is supposed to be part of this world. Last but not least, there are moving, working windmills. Anyone who has played Minecraft will probably feel the same way about this, which is not happy. This is the main problem, the makers have maybe watched 1 Let’s Play. They don’t know the Minecraft experience. They haven’t played hardcore survival and felt the pain when you die because your elytra breaks, they have never gone mining at 2 am on a rainy night or have built a beautiful base they a proud of.

Which brings us to the soulless plot. For anyone unfamiliar, this is what Warner Bros. describes it as: “Four misfits—Garrett “The Garbage Man” Garrison, Henry, Natalie and Dawn—find themselves struggling with ordinary problems when they are suddenly pulled through a mysterious portal into the Overworld: a bizarre, cubic wonderland that thrives on imagination. To get back home, they’ll have to master this world (and protect it from evil things like Piglins and Zombies, too) while embarking on a magical quest with an unexpected, expert crafter, Steve. Together, their adventure will challenge all five to be bold and to reconnect with the qualities that make each of them uniquely creative…the very skills they need to thrive back in the real world.”

That made me throw up in my mouth a little. Minecraft is such a fun and unique game and this is what they come up with? Minecraft is a game about being creative and there are literally endless possibilities. This plot has nothing to do with the actual game and could be applied to any video game. Speaking of other games, it hasn’t escaped anyone’s notice that this is the exact plot of the movie Jumanji.

I’m secretly hoping they pull a Sonic and fix the movie at the last minute but I don’t think that is realistic. I don’t think all is lost though, Emma Myers (who plays Natalie) is, in my opinion, a great addition to the cast and is funny and talented. The rest of the cast isn’t much to write home about, unfortunately. As stated before, I do think the set has a cool look to it, it is just a shame that it doesn’t look like Minecraft.

Here is what I would do if I were in charge:

Firstly the whole cast is going. I would make it an animated film, Minecraft isn’t a realistic game and it doesn’t come across well in live-action. Steve and Alex would be the main characters.

The movie would have an entirely different plot and would either focus on Steve and Alex trying to defeat the Enderdragon for the first time, etc. (I think this is a bit basic but sometimes less is more)

Or it could be about the lore of the Enderdragon, Endermen, Ghasts, etc. and what happened to them and how they ended up where they are. There are so many theories about this online and it’s a side of that Minecraft hasn't been explored yet.

Another option could be about the villagers and pillagers. It would be cool to see more of their history and maybe Steve meddling to make peace or something in that direction. Think about how cool raids could be in movie form.

(see how I just thought of 3 way more original and fun plots off the top of my head when the writers couldn’t think of a singular one in months)-

A MUST for me is the classic Minecraft music. It should be in the trailer, in the movie, it should be everywhere. It is so nostalgic and everyone who has ever played Minecraft knows how iconic it is. (not saying it is not in the movie right now, I obviously haven’t seen it yet but wanted to include this point)

I think it could be cool if, for example, Steve would find a new biome or a new item and then we would get it in the game in an update. It would show a real connection between the movie and the game which is missing right now. (again not saying they won’t do this but I’m not getting my hopes up)

Besides all this, it would be amazing to see jokes and references to the actual game. Think forgetting to set your spawnpoint, inventory being full, etc.

And lastly, I NEED to see Minecraft YouTuber's references. I think they might do this, I’ve seen multiple YouTubers talk about the movie and I know Mumbo visited the set, so there is a possibility. Minecraft has one of the biggest YouTube communities, not referencing it would be a missed opportunity for sure.

I don’t think this movie will be especially bad, from the looks of it, it’s going to be a whole lot of meh. I do want to say that I have not seen the movie yet as it isn’t out yet, this means that a lot could still change (please please please). I will be in the cinema on April 4th with low expectations but high hopes, I have never wanted to be wrong more. Let me know what you think and thank you for reading all the way to the end <3

As always, this is MY opinion. Feel free to disagree but remember: It is a game about blocks, it's not that important (she says after ranting about it for like 2 hours lmao).

[zorobraun]

sexual tension with ghost that leads to sex (but he’s not toxic anymore) part four

at one lonely night, simon thought that he just needed a distraction to stop thinking about you all the fucking time. yet… “you’re so big and strong.” ghost almost frowns when he hears the woman he was about to fuck — so he can think it’s you instead — whispering on his ear. fucking hell, this lady sounds pathetic; even though she’s not mocking him at all. however, he’d much rather hear you saying those words in your usual mocking tone, than her saying them in a seductive one. “actually, i have a girlfriend. sorry.” he lies, smiling politely. if he had been honest, he would’ve said: “actually, you’re not y/n, so i physically can’t get hard, even though you’re pretty fuckable. sorry.”

(…)

“jesus christ, maybe we should get him a dog.” konig says to alejandro and soap while they stare at their lieutenant’s miserable and lonely figure. ghost is taking a deep breath as he feels the sun on his not so exposed skin. “bro had to reconnect with mother nature to try to get over y/n.” soap jokes, making they burst out laugh. “y’all are mean. malos!” alejandro punches their arms, laughing. meanwhile, ghost decides that it’s enough mother nature for today and walks back to the base, just to find the three of them holding back a laugh. “morning, lt.” they all say together, looking quite suspicious. “get the fuck outta’ my face, bastards.”

(…)

after a few days suffering to get over you, the day has finally arrived — soap’s birthday. ghost sighs as he enters the downtown bar, the overwhelming noise of people talking loudly mixed with music invading his ears. “finally! i thought you wouldn’t come.” soap punches ghost’s arm, hugging him tight. “drunk already?” ghost chuckles, taking a look around. “you know me, lt.” he smirks, taking a long sip of his long neck beer. “come on, we’re all over there.” soap adds, pointing to the corner of the bar, where the pool table is.

they all greet ghost with sincere smiles and hugs, one thing about lieutenant ghost is that he’s very loved by people, somehow. he grabs a beer as he joins the team’s conversation, sitting on the edge of the pool table. “lt, that girl is staring. like, for real. i think she wants you.” konig discretely points to a blonde woman, making all of the boys look at her simultaneously. “fucking idiots, y’all don’t know how to fudge.” konig rolls his eyes, they all laugh.

“if you fumble her, i swear to god…” soap stares at his best friend. ghost grins, holding back a laugh. “i might, not gonna lie. i’m not in the mood.” simon shrugs, making them mock him with annoying sounds. “right, she’s not y/n!” alejandro mocks him again and ghost chuckles. “i’ll fucking kill you when we leave this place.” ghost jokes, pulling his jacket up to show his glock. “alejandro didn’t lie, though. you were always in the mood with her.” soap adds, they all laugh again, except for ghost.

“what did y’all expect?” obviously they all stay silent, or else simon would kill them. “i was on my knees for her.” he chuckles, knowing damn well that he is obsessed with you still. “literally.” konig points out, making them hold back a laugh. ghost sighs defeatedly when he notices the sudden silence, all of their dread faces, staring behind him. of course you had to come. “h-hey, y/n!” soap smiles nervously, walking towards you. ghost swallows hard, standing up. “happy birthday, soap.” you smile wholeheartedly, hugging him. “i bought you something, hope you like it.” you stroke his arm slightly, he kisses your cheek as he thanks you.

ghost turns his back to face you and the world stops. his heart skips a beat when you look back at him, you look so beautiful in this black short silk dress. you think he looks very handsome in all black too, but you’d rather die than say it out loud. they all clear their throat as they start talking to each other, pretending to not care about you and ghost at all.

“now what are you even doing here?” you finally say with some sort of disgust in your words. ghost is in shock with your bratty attitude, coming closer to you. “come again?” he frowns, your gaze on him suddenly getting on his nerves. “soap said you wouldn’t be able to make it, that’s why i’m here, obviously.” you roll your eyes, trying to ignore his perfume messing up all of your senses.

“well, sweetheart, soap fucking lied. now fix your attitude, we’re not together anymore.” he says in his usual bossy tone and you just hate it so much. you chuckle dryly, stepping in closer, so he can hear you very clearly. “have we ever been together, simon? i just remember being your sex toy, that’s all.” you force a smile, already getting mad at his stupid face. “you enjoyed every second of it, though. if you weren’t such a whiny bitch, i would’ve made us official.” he says straight to your face, just a few inches away from yours, actually.

you swallow hard, as if you were preparing yourself for something you’ve been wanting to do for a while now. you slap him in the face with such a force, that your palm stings. your breathing grows a bit faster, a part of you afraid of what he’s going to do about it. half of the people around you is staring at you and ghost, with curious but shocked eyes. suddenly, all you hear is the loud music; ‘closer’, by nine inch nails. you hold your breath for a while. simon has this hatred painted all over his face as everybody’s attention goes somewhere else, thank god.

ghost thinks you’re very lucky to be you and above all, a woman. he would never hurt a woman, specially you, of course. but oh god, he’s mad. he’s furious. he just wants to make you suffer so bad, he wants to absolutely ruin your entire life, make you feel humiliated in front of this entire bar, just like he’s feeling right now. he grabs your arm in a tight grip as his lips come closer to your ear. “you’ll fucking regret that.” his tone sounds deeper now that he’s seeing red.

before you could answer, simon’s grip obliges you to keep up with his wide steps. you’re following him like a puppy and it makes you try to get away from him, but he’s way stronger. and besides, you don’t really want to leave him. “hey you, let her go!” a random guy yells at simon, placing a hand on his chest. you frown, as if you’re telling the guy that he just made a huge mistake. “get the hell outta’ my face before i break your fucking nose.” simon says in a very annoyed tone, his grip on you never leaving.

“do it, asshole. you don’t have the b…” the poor guy suddenly falls onto the ground, his hand pressing against his bleeding nose. you widen your eyes, holding simon’s arm. for a moment, he realizes how much he missed your gentle hands on him. he doesn’t waste any more time as you both walk towards the exit. “u-um, i’m sorry, okay?” you mutter nervously as you both leave the bar. ghost is walking the two of you to his car, you notice.

“i wasn’t thinking straight.” you add when he pushes you against his car’s closed door. he’s looking into your eyes a bit differently than before; like his hatred just turned into something more powerful. simon grabs the sides of your neck so hard that you could almost choke. you start praying to god, maybe this is the day you’ll meet him in heaven. well, you’re indeed going to heaven tonight. just not to meet jesus. simon pulls you close by the grip on your neck, kissing you slowly. oh, so this is heaven…

the way he shoves his tongue in your mouth like he’s claiming you for the thousandth time makes you moan quietly against him. he swallows that one single sound of yours as if it was his favorite drink. you both hold back the urge to say that you’ve missed each other so bad as he eagerly bites your bottom lip. you breathe out as your hand goes to the small of his back, pulling his body closer to yours. he almost groans when he feels your tiny figure trying to get some friction against him.

“do you ever… think straight, when i’m around?” he finally says something as he stops kissing you, out of breath. your cheeks get red when you realize you’re already melting to the way his voice sounded firm, but calm and flirty at the same time. that burning hate of his seems to fade away when you chuckle. “not really.” he holds back a smile.

“as much as i want to fuck some decency in you…” he stares at your lips for a second. you press your thighs together. “i won’t do that.” he grabs your jaw, his face too close for your comfort. “‘cause i know this was your plan all along.” he places a suggestive kiss under your ear. “besides…” he pauses. his breathing on your sensitive area making you shiver. “i’m over you.” simon completes, knowing damn well that this statement will absolutely destroy you in so many ways. so you almost throw up when you notice that he sounds so sure of what he just said. little do you know, he’s a proud liar.

“no, you’re not.” you think out loud, wanting to punch yourself for sounding so desperate, so dependent of him, of his stupid affection for you. you just can’t bear the tought of him moving on so easily when you’re right where he left you. suddenly, you feel the urge to cry. you grab the hand that was on your face, placing it above your beating heart. “tell me you don’t feel a single thing for me and i swear to god, i’ll leave for good. you’ll never hear from me again.” you say with watery eyes staring into his. simon’s breathing grows erratic, his throat is so dry that he thinks you’ll be the death of him. he wasn’t expecting this kind of reaction from you, honestly. maybe he wasn’t the only one that still didn’t move on.

“you let your fear of love win again and you’ll fucking lose me, simon.” you’re literally tearing up now, his hand might be shaking against you. “this is the last time i’m fighting for you, do you understand? i’m done fighting alone, when you don’t even move a single finger for me.” your heart misses a beat when you realize you can’t even get a reaction from him. “i want you to fucking say something, do something!” you let go of his hand as you hit his chest, pushing him away. simon stays silent and you close your eyes, tears running down your face as you take a defeated breath.

you look at him. “goodbye, simon.” you’re saying these words so many times that it’s becoming your tagline. you lick your lips and sigh, walking away. he’s paralyzed as his heart keeps screaming don’t let her go, don’t let her go, don’t let her go. he feels like having a panic attack when he tries to breathe deeply, but he can only breathe shallowly. don’t be a pussy, you’re embarassing. your family, they were never a good example of love. you can let it go, you can let them go. what you can’t let go, is her. do something. do something. do something.

simon swallows hard as your absence pulls him out of his messy thoughts. he takes a look around, but you’re already far away. it doesn’t matter, he’d follow you through hell. his steps are wide and fast as he doesn’t lose track of you. he shoves some people away on the sidewalk. he doesn’t care. then you feel it — his hand on your wrist. you stop walking, already knowing that he’ll say some nonsense shit to make you feel less worse, just like the other night. you turn your back to look at him with annoyed eyes. he takes a deep breath.

“y/n, i once said to soap that you’re too good for me… but i was wrong. it turns out that you’re the best part of me.” simon’s hands go to the back of your neck, looking into your bright eyes. “i realized that too late, when i lost you.” he pauses, licking his lips nervously. “i can’t lose you again, i don’t want to. all i want is you, by my side.” you swallow hard. “i’m sorry, love, for being so complicated. i’m a fucking prick but… i’ll try to be a better man, from now on.” his fingers caress your cheeks.

“i love you. i love you too fucking much. i wouldn’t even want to fall in love if the person i fell in love with wasn’t you.” he chuckles sweetly when he notices your shocked face. “i’m sincerely in love with you and it pisses me off, ‘cause i didn’t know i was able to love someone this much. so stay with me. stay with me today, tomorrow, and the day after that. the other ones too.” simon gives you sweet little kisses all over your face, making the both of you chuckle. “you’re my entire heart, dumbass.” he grins wholeheartedly, and…

you kiss him hard. god, you want to fucking kill him, then bring him back to life.

well, you kind of did.

(…)

“how’s the water temp?” simon looks at your flushed face as you let the water run down your body. “warm enough.” you smile, pulling him close so he can get under the shower with you. he chuckles, kissing your wet forehead. you try to push him away playfully when you notice his gaze on your body — he doesn’t even move. “stop looking at me like that!” you complain, laughing. “you do realize that i’ve already seen your entire body like, a hundred times, right?” he raises an eyebrow mockingly, laughing at your unnecessary shyness.

“i’m not complaining, though.” he smirks, caressing your arm. “you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever laid my eyes on.” you hold back a smile, rolling your eyes. you give him a quick little kiss, holding onto his forearm, since he’s too tall for you. “aw, thanks. it’s a shame i can’t say the same for you.” you joke, he closes his eyes as he laughs. “you’re so dumb, i swear to god…” simon cups your face so he can kiss you again.

“okay, okay.” you pull away, lips still close to his. “i think you’re very handsome, no joke this time.” you smile, looking into his eyes. “and i might love your forearm’s tattoo more than i love you.” you joke, caressing the area you just mentioned as you stare at his toned forearm. your man is just so attractive. he raises an eyebrow. you both chuckle. “just say you ‘wanna fuck, dickhead.” simon teases, you slap his arm.

“i don’t, dumbass.” you roll your eyes playfully, smiling too. he’s looking at you as if he knows you’re lying, but you both choose to ignore that. “help me wash my hair, i’m done with you.” he laughs, grabbing the shampoo. you close your eyes when you feel his fingers rubbing your scalp gently. your relaxed sigh makes him hug you from behind, foam getting all over your stomach. “sleeping on me now, love?” he teases with a kiss on your cheek. you’re really feeling sleepy as his face goes to the crook of your neck, feeling your soft skin against his body.

“i like having you close to me.” you mumble, eyes still closed. simon smiles half heartedly, holding you tighter. you’re both too warm to the touch. he sighs lazily as he pulls away, letting you wash the shampoo out. simon takes a deep lovesick breath while watching you do your thing. he sighs, touching his face — your natural beauty makes him ask himself when did he get so lucky. the way the water runs down your wet soft skin, your perfectly balanced body proportions… you’ve got him on his knees.

“‘wanna know a secret?” simons smirks. you chuckle, nodding. “i’m really happy that i’ll get to sleep next to you for the first time, in my own bed, at my own house. it’s something i’ve been… dreaming about for a while now.” you pout as he caresses your arm, chuckling at your cute reaction. you love the fact that the two of you aren’t at the base tonight, making the intimacy much better. “i can’t wait to cuddle with my beautiful, breathtaking, sexy girl and wake up next to her.” simon says playfully, looking at you with those eyes. you raise an eyebrow, narrowing your eyes at him. “you’ll let me fuck you, right, baby?” he jokes and you both laugh out loud. he pulls you into a playful tight hug.

“i already told you.” you roll your eyes playfully as you push him slightly away. “we’re not fucking tonight. i need to know if you really love me for me and not for the way i suck your dick.” you mock at him, making him laugh too loud again, in disbelief. “you got me there, sweetheart.” he clicks his tongue. “i do love the way you suck me, that’s why i fell for you in the first place.” he mocks back with a grin, lying. he fell for you because your vulnerability picked his soul up from a very dark place.

“you’re insufferable, simon.” you chuckle as you kiss him, and…

you let simon riley fuck you in the shower.

(…)

when the two of you finally lay down on his bed, you hear simon’s heavy but relieved sigh. you smile half heartedly as you both look at each other. “i can’t believe i had to wait for so long to sleep next to you.” you mock at him, making him roll his eyes as he laughs; the fact that he came off as the one who played hard to get due to his trauma is embarassing. “don’t even fucking start.” he hugs you, giving messy kisses all over you as a way to shut you up. you’re both laughing like idiots as you feel his heavy body almost suffocating you.

“g-get away from me!” you chuckle, making him chuckle too as he pulls slightly away from you. “you’ll see that it was worth the wait.” he jokes, kissing your forehead. “oh, i know.” you smirk as your face goes to the crook of his neck, making yourself comfortable. you hug him as you put one leg around his. simon chuckles, pulling you even closer as his hand gently strokes the small of your back. your breathing is too calm now, maybe you’re already asleep.

“wake up, sleepyhead.” he says playfully, hugging you tight before pulling away from you. you sigh impatiently as you open your eyes. before you could punch him in the face, he starts. “i need to make us official.” you raise an eyebrow, holding back a smile. “is that so?” you chuckle, kissing him. you sit on the bed as he caresses your thigh, still laying next to you. “i’ve never been that much of a romantic, so this will have to do, i’m sorry, love.” you both chuckle as you nod. “i’d rather marry you already but let’s take it one step at a time.” he smirks, making you blush.

“i wanna’ do it right this time. i no longer can imagine myself without you, so…” simon clears his throat, frowning. you can see that he’s struggling, so you kiss him quickly. “yes, i’ll be your girlfriend, simon.” you get it over with, making him let out a relieved laugh. “thank you so much, gorgeous. i just felt weird to ask you that, ‘cause i feel like we’ve been dating since the night you knocked at my door.” he chuckles, you obviously agree with that. “true, i remember being loyal to you even though we were just fucking around.” you point out, making you both laugh at the statement.

“i was loyal too, you know? my cock was very loyal to you as well, it wouldn’t even get hard with anyone else.” he mocks with a loud laugh, getting embarrassed with the memories. you slap his arm. “babe, i’m not joking.” simon adds, now you laugh out loud. “you’re disgusting, i can’t believe i accepted you as my boyfriend.” you joke, laying your body on top of him. he hugs your waist with a playful grin on his lips. “fuck, i miss when you actually had some sort of respect for me.” he gives your ass a slap, making you chuckle against him.

“you know i love you.” you look at him with a playful smirk. his lovesick eyes, his caring smile. oh, you’re really in love. you both stay still and silent for a moment, just feeling each other’s warmth. “i almost forgot.” he breaks the silence as you frown, growing curious. he stretches his arm under the bed, making you even more confused. simon sits on the bed with you on his lap. “i bought you flowers.” you open your mouth in both surprise and excitement. did simon-heartless-riley bought you flowers? “no, you didn’t. when did you buy them? i was with you the whole time!” you chuckle in disbelief before smiling like a teenager in love.

“i bought ‘em a few minutes before heading to soap’s party, as a promise to myself.” he explains, caressing your thigh with his free hand. “a promise to yourself?” you ask, smiling curiously. “yeah, love. a promise to myself that…” he pauses as his hand finally appears again, this time with a beautiful bouquet of mixed flowers. you pout softly as you caress his arm. “…that i would get the girl.” simon stares into your bright eyes. your reaction makes him chuckle quietly before kissing you in a very tender and meaningful way.

he certainly got the girl.

finally.

tags: @nijiru @ahleeyuh

[roeroe-world]

could it be or could it not be? (a different world edition)

As requested❤️: @notapradagurl7

starring: bumper robinson as dorian haywood, keke palmer as ruby jacobs

set in 1993.

warning(s): detailed smut, harsh language, adult situations

“I really don’t understand why out of all people your partner has to be her.” Lena sends the male an eye roll, not bothering to even glance in her boyfriend’s direction. Dorian and Lena strolled alongside one another into the lobby, annoyance pouring over both of their frames.

“Don’t start, Lena. I told you Ruby and I are just friends.” He sighs heavily.

The couple were having a slight argument over Dorian’s assignment. This appointed assignment isn’t just the issue, it’s who the assignment is being conducted with. In Lena’s perspective, she thinks her lover should have been paired with someone else.

“Just friends? Oh, please…” With a wave of her manicured hand, her petite body plops onto the couch.

Dorian’s head shakes side to side, occupying the space next to her before leaning in to place a kiss upon her lips. His arms snaking around her neck. Instantaneously, her head turns in the opposite direction as her tongue drags along her cheek. The scene caught the attention of a few familiar individuals.

“Oop, I’m sensing some tension over here. Y’all having a couple’s fight again?” Gina quizzes, eyes darting between the two nosily and carefully.

“How about you mind your business and go back to wherever you came from, big mouth.” Lena insults nonchalantly yet irritation present in her tone. Both Gina and Charmaine’s head tilt backward in pure offense.

“Dang, what’s the matter with you?” Charmaine butts in, the duo welcoming themselves amongst the couch as well. “Yeah, exactly. What is the matter with you? I keep telling you that Ruby and I being partners for this project was completely unintentional. The professor partnered us up. We had absolutely nothing to do with this.” Dorian’s gaze piercing passionately into his girlfriend’s canvas in hopes of her understanding his side.

“Ruby? As in fine Ruby Jacobs?” Terrell makes his presence known, catching wind of the conversation. He takes a seat along the arm of the couch.

Immediately, Lena sits up. “See—” She began frustratingly. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You can’t be just friends with a girl like that.” Her intense gaze falling upon the male, eyelids squinting. “Look me in my eye and tell me that you’re not attracted to her. You better not lie neither.”

Dorian finds himself laughing in disbelief. He couldn’t believe his girlfriend could be this way, so insecure. He’d never given her any reason to feel inferior nor intimidated by another woman. But all of that changed when Ruby transferred to Hillman.

Ruby transferred from Howard to Hillman for a fresh start. She also happens to be a long time friend of his, given they’ve even grown up together. They lost touch for a while after graduating high school but quickly reconnected after crossing paths— to be specific they were passing one another on campus before recognizing each other in a quickness.

Ever since then, things had shifted within his relationship with Lena.

She became a jealous, raging woman. Often speaking ill of Ruby whenever she isn’t around for no apparent reason. Dorian understood to a certain extent but it was growing extremely uncomfortable. Ruby rarely glances in her direction, let alone speaks of her.

“Lena, listen to yourself. You’re being extremely irrational right now.” Dorian argues.

“You can’t even—” Lena began, only to be interrupted.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt whatever this is. But Dorian it’s your turn.” The woman of the hour makes her appearance, butt-length individual braids swinging softly alongside her confident stride. The entire group’s energy shifts, their attention shifting upon Ruby’s frame.

The strap of her Rasta striped backpack chilling on her right shoulder. A purple and white tank top reading ‘Nike’ in white bold letters hugging her torso yet exposing her small waist, matching oversized nylon track pants covering her legs. A fresh pair of Nike Air Jordan 7 OG Raptors adorning her feet.

Gold compliments her skin tone and clearly she’s aware, rocking a plethora of gold necklaces and a few rings. Two of the necklaces being a nameplate necklace which spells out her name in cursive as well as Egyptian queen, Nefertiti. Notes of brown sugar and vanilla bean engulfing her natural being. She’s the epitome of fly.

Her aura was bright yet she was nonchalant and the facial expression amongst her canvas remained unphased. In fact, she doesn’t acknowledge the rest of the group. Her attention solely focused on Dorian’s being, handing the male the car seat.

“Cool. How was she?” He quizzes, referring to the infant simulator resting in the assigned car seat. The infant simulator happened to be the fake baby the duo were given for the sake of their project.

To be specific, their project happens to be a social experiment. The duo were to pretend to be young parents whilst tackling real world issues and college.

“A pain in my behind. I was able to get her to sleep so I could get some studying in thankfully.” She smiles weakly, ignoring the subtle stares they were receiving. “I gotta head to track practice. Good luck.”

“Thanks and before you leave I’m gonna need you to watch her tonight. I have an exam tomorrow morning. I need some sleep.” His pools of brown practically pleading for the young woman to oblige.

Her hands meeting her hips, sighing irritably, “I have an exam too, Dorian. Don’t you think I can use some sleep?”

“But—”

“No buts.” Before he could even get another word in, Ruby saunters out of sight.

“Okay, wow…” Gina starts with a mischievous chuckle. “So, Lena? You’re like the resentful girlfriend but Ruby is the baby mama that you just can’t seem to get rid of. Mm, I would pay good money to see this in a soap opera.” Her chuckles transitions into intense laughter.

As a result, Lena hops out of her seat and began to march away from the group. Charmaine sends a harsh slap to Gina’s shoulder earning a light gasp— the young woman no longer laughing as the duo began to follow closely behind an angry Lena to comfort their friend.

The moment the trio were gone, the infant simulator bursts into loud wails. Dorian’s tired eyes falls onto his friend, Terrell, whom instantly stands to his feet. A nervous laugh escaping his throat.

“You know, man. I would help you but, um, I gotta study for that uh… exam I got tomorrow too. So, uh, yeah. Bye.” He lies before quickly leaving the scene as well.

Dorian’s head tosses backward in pure frustration, a sigh passing his lips. His gaze falling amongst the crying electronic infant the second he lifts his head once again.

———

Now you want my love

Well that’s alright

Well, it will be there for you, morning, noon, and night

TLC’s “Baby, Baby, Baby” softly commences through Ruby’s apartment due to her handy dandy CD player. It happens to be a one bedroom, simply furnished but nothing too extra. It was just right, perfect for her accommodation during this point of her life.

She stays off campus, not because she necessarily had to but she chose too. After the horrific experience of having roommates at her old campus, she decided to purchase a place of her own. She needed her own space. Ruby liked it better that way. Besides, she doesn’t live too far from the campus.

Silently, she flips to the next page of her thick textbook which is seated upon her lap. Her legs indian style comfortably, basking in the solitude and tranquility of her space.

Until, a couple of knocks meets her door.

Her gaze travels to the door for a split second before sitting the textbook onto the coffee table and standing to her feet. Glancing through the peephole, she looks to the side with a lighthearted chuckle yet wasting no absolute time to welcome the uninvited guest inside.

“Did you need something, Dorian?”

“Yeah. To study.” Without protesting, she takes the car seat out of his hold as he closes the umbrella. It was storming pretty badly outside. The rain poured at an intense rate and it hadn’t shown any signs of stopping anytime soon.

“You didn’t walk over here in the rain. Did you?” Ruby places the car seat onto a nearby chair, carefully analyzing the infant simulator’s appearance to ensure everything is intact.

Shutting and locking the door behind himself, “I took a cab.” He takes off his red, black and white letterman jacket before neatly hanging it onto the coat rack. She grabs his backpack, laying it on the couch. “I know you’re probably wondering why I’m here. I’ve been trying to study but she keeps crying and the only way the thing seems to stop is when I hold her.”

“It does that to me too. Hence why I gave her to you for the night. You’re not the only one in dire need of sleep and on top of that I have to study too. As you can see—” Her arms motioning to the mountains of paper and textbooks scattered across her coffee table.

Dorian observes the scene. A sense of regret and guilt creeping upon his being. “You know what? You’re right. I should go. Sorry about this.” He reaches for his belongings, preparing to leave before Ruby halts his actions. “Stop. Seriously, what’s happening to us?”

His eyebrows furrowing together, “What do you mean?”

The male began to act oblivious. Though, he knows exactly what she means. Before their project, their friendship was great and they would rarely possess any disagreements. But with the assignment, the duo seemed to be growing slightly distant but oddly closer in the same note due to the infant simulator.

Sure, they were best-friends. But before the “baby” they had their own lives and friends so they weren’t obligated to see one another every day. Now, they had to for the sake of their grade.

“This thing—” The young woman motions to the infant simulator in slight frustration before plopping onto the couch. “drives me nuts. I can’t really hang out whenever I want. You’re starting not to like me anymore. I’ve become annoying. Haven’t I?”

“Woah, what?” Dorian laughs, taking a seat next to his friend. “Look, I’ve been worked up over this project too. You’re not alone and you are not annoying. You’re just… a young mother, technically.” He tries to assure her earning a light exasperated sigh.

“Well, in that case, I don’t wanna have children anytime soon.”

The male finds himself laughing causing Ruby to join him, “I mean, I can’t study. Oh and I can’t take long thorough showers like I usually do. One time, I was in the middle of a presentation and the thing started crying. It was soo humiliating.”

“Tell me about it. My Biology professor literally kicked me out of class.” The two relate to one another, their heads shaking in unison. “I’m so glad we only have a couple of more days left of this project. It has been a long two weeks. Though, I can’t lie, I feel for those who are juggling college and parenthood. It is not easy.”

“Yeah,” She began, her gaze softening the second she turns in Dorian’s direction. “Um, I caught wind of you and your friends conversation earlier…” Instantaneously, his attention falls upon the woman. “I don’t understand the issue your girl has with me. I mean, we’re just friends.” The young woman says with an eye roll, crossing her arms.

Not once did Ruby ever come on to Dorian. Despite the fact that she doesn’t know Lena well, she respects her enough to not interfere in their relationship. But Ruby isn’t an ass kisser so it is what it is.

Dorian sighs heavily, “I tell her that a million times. Lena is just… I don’t know. She’s never been this way. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or upset.” His mind going into deep thought.

“All I’m gonna say is, she has nothing to worry about. I also enjoy our friendship. I think she really needs to dive deep inside and find that insecurity so maybe she can stop taking it out on me. I’ve done absolutely nothing to her nor to you, Dorian.”

The young woman stands to her feet, walking to the other side of her living room to turn off the CD player. “Ruby…” Dorian slowly steps to her, grabbing her hand to gently turn the woman in his direction. “I apologize on behalf of Lena’s behavior. Okay? But I can’t control nor can I convince her not to be threatened by you… I mean… look at you,”

Ruby’s head gradually lifts, their pools of brown connecting, “You’re beautiful. Guys flock to you all the time.” She breaks their eye contact, disconnecting their hands due to her growing quite flustered as she saunters in the opposite direction of the area.

Dorian only follows right behind the beauty. Tension forming between the two.

“Can I be honest?” He inquires, swallowing his pride.

“Yeah?” Her gaze away from his being, avoiding any absolute eye contact.

“I’m glad we became partners because I’ve grown to realize something…” Suddenly, Ruby turns to look at him. “What’s that?”

“How I can’t do this thing called life without you. There’s no other person I see myself doing this—” He motions towards their surroundings. “with.” The duo being partners for the project gave the two a chance to view one another in a different light. A light they never once walked to.

“I… see you as more than just a friend. In fact, I’ve loved you since I was nine years old.”

Ruby grew speechless, peering deeply into his eyes. Derealization creeps upon her frame— nearly on the verge of pinching herself to figure out if she’s dreaming or not. But she isn’t… Dorian is standing right in front of her, live in the flesh. Confessing his longtime romantic feelings for her.

“This may come as a shocker but… I had to tell you before it was too late.” He further explains, stepping closer to the beauty.

“Lena. What about Lena? Did she ever come in mind when you realized you had these feelings for me?” Their chests meeting softly, her gaze peering upward due to their height difference.

“What about her?” Her eyebrow raises at his response. “I care about her but she isn’t you.”

“Could this be? Or… could this not be?” The beauty’s fingertips tracing along the material of his long sleeved shirt.

His face slowly dipping downward toward hers, his lips leaning closer to hers, “It will be.”

Without wasting another agonizing second, their lips connected for the very first time. Their union was fervent, zealous— in search of what was next to occur during this moment. Their tongues began to tango within the other’s wetness. The act creating a track of its own.

Both of their racing hearts thumped intensely as Dorian takes the initiative of positioning his hands along the top of her backside. He wanted to remain respectful, not wanting to overstep his boundaries in any way shape or form.

As a result, Ruby sends him the signal that his thoughts were okay. It was as if she read his mind given their undeniable chemistry, leading his large hands to her covered backside that sat plump and proudly in her shorts.

Her arms hanging loosely around his neck, their heads conducting every which way yet never breaking their steamy kiss. Unfortunately, the infant simulator started to wail loudly catching the duo’s attention. Dorian sends the woman a grip on her backside, his top row of pearly whites softly digging into his bottom lip. Hazy low eyes staring downward at her seductively.

“I got it.”

Suddenly, he snaps out of the trance she unintentionally lured him under. His mind traveling to his girlfriend for a split second.

“N-No, I got it.” He volunteers, tending to the infant simulator’s needs.

Giggling softly to herself, Ruby observes as he rocks and feeds the mechanical infant. Her gaze travels along to her sock cladded feet before lifting her head once again, finger twiddling the tip of one of her lengthy braids.

The second he returns it to its rightful place as soon as it halted its wails, “I should go.” He began to pack his things, preparing to leave once again.

Yet again, Ruby stops him right in his tracks. This time what she had in mind isn’t so innocent.

“You can’t just confess your feelings for me then up and leave. Besides, it’s pouring down out there.” She was enticing, practically seducing him with her eyes. “You gonna go out in the rain? Hm?” They were a deep shade of brown, lust and desire swirling within her orbs.

Her head tilts to the side, their pools of brown burning into one another. “I don’t think you should leave me, Dorian.” The woman confidently steps closer to his tall frame, exuding a femme fatale. A woman clearly comfortable within her sexuality.

He surrenders, “I suppose, I shouldn’t.” The thought of Lena being shoved in the back burner of his conscience.

With his consent, the woman takes his hand and leads him to her bedroom. Anticipation and excitement pouring over his frame as he watches her hips. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, observing the beauty undress while admiring her being. His member hard as a rock.

Ruby kneels upon her knees, unbuckling the fly of his denim jeans. “You don’t have to do that.” He says, though he doesn’t mind. He’d never received fellatio before so it would be a first.

“Stop worrying. Would you?” She doesn’t bother to even glance at him as his tongue drag across his lips, gaze directed amongst her breasts. He lifts his hips so she could pull down his boxers, he’d never been so ecstatic about anything in his life. He had no idea Ruby had it in her.

Slowly stroking his long phallus, her lust-filled eyes glances upward in his direction. It wouldn’t be long before her lips would be wrapped around him, slurping him up as if her life depended on it. Clearly, it isn’t her first rodeo.

His jaw falls agape, “Oh shit.”

Her hand skillfully strokes him. The beauty’s head bobbing upward and downward with absolute ease. Her skills were heaven sent, becoming a pleasure to the male. She was too good at this.

His head falls backward, fucking her face as his fingers tangles into her braids. “Ruby…” He calls her name, low gaze averting downward onto the sexual deviant earning her attention. Batting her eyelashes, she seductively drags her tongue along one of the veins of his thick phallus, making sure to maintain their hazy eye contact. “Yes, baby?”

Before he could utter another word— he couldn’t any longer. He’d completely lost his train of thought. She snatched them away of him as well as his soul, going harder than before due to his reaction. Ruby was giving him Grammy award winning head, a plethora of profanity escaping his throat.

She was showcasing one of her many talents, revealing that she’s unlike any other woman he’s ever been with sexually. None of his previous lovers offered fellatio and he never pressured them either. But Ruby was more than willing to with no absolute shame.

In fact, she was committed. Dedicated to make him come just with the handy dandy work of her tongue. It had taken much practice, though she loved it. The jaw aches, the tears cascading along her cheeks, her mouth being full, the slob surrounding her juicy lips, the moans— even screams. The aggressive face fucking— she abso-fucking-lutely loved it.

“Fuck, fuck…” Dorian groans aloud, releasing into her mouth without warning. She made him come in under a minute, leaving breathless and panting heavily. He wasn’t expecting that level of head.

She swallows whatever he produces with no complaints, crawling onto his lap. “Think you could handle some more?” Her center throbbed for him, throbbing for a good pounding and he possesses the perfect size for her dripping tight crevice. The woman always desired for something bigger than she could handle.

He was still up at attention. “Hell yeah.”

Reaching for a condom into her nightstand, she makes sure to secure it on him. The second she does, she hops off of his lap and lays beside his being. His eyes closely following the places she goes, watching her legs widen. He analyzes her wetness as if it’s his most prized possession, his trophy.

One of her hands drags between her breasts along onto her toned stomach, eventually between her legs. Her index and middle finger toying with her throbbing center, moaning softly. Dorian replaces her touch, a groan passing his throat due to how soaked she is. He barely touched her and he had her like this.

Ruby practically melted like putty in his hands, surrendering to whatever he had to offer. His fingers soon being replaced with his thick phallus, both of them moaning at the sudden contact.

She trapped him into her cavern and he couldn’t find himself desiring to escape. He was already hooked, longing for more and more and more.

Dorian’s strokes were deep, passionate yet slow. He wanted to savor each second, capture each second. His face no longer buried into the crook of her neck, lifting his head to analyze her facial expressions. Her lips were slightly parted open, low pools of brown flowing into his. “I love you.” She whispers before whimpering shortly after her confession.

“I love you.” He tucks one of her braids behind her ear. Orbs sparkling in admiration. Ruby’s deep brown eyes caught him in a daze. Her cheekbones sat high. Her glossy lips plump and suckable, begging to be ravished. Brown skin smooth and soft, her signature vanilla bean scent entering his nostrils yet again. “You’re so beautiful.”

The woman caresses his back, hips rocking into his. Her legs enveloping his waist. She didn’t want him to stop especially when he stretched her out so perfectly. Dorian already has her right where she wanted him to have her.

“Dorian…” Her feminine tone summons his name. It wouldn’t be the last time.

Natural nail beds digging into the golden skin of his back, the pleasure growing increasingly overwhelming. She felt every vein, every thrust, everything. “Shit.” The second he finds her spot— he seems to not want to leave it alone, deepening the tip of his phallus in circles.

Love marks being left upon her skin, biting and nibbling. His wet tongue sensually dragging along her chest then her brown hardened areolas, showing them the attention they were in dire need of.

The view of her breasts bouncing along each thrust, her reaction garnered another side of Dorian. Without a lack of hesitation, he flips the woman onto her stomach before entering her walls yet again. It catches Ruby off guard but she doesn’t disagree. Her legs shaking immensely.

The headboard bangs against the wall harshly. The couple pants heavily as the aggressive sound of skin slapping bounces off the walls. “Ah, fuck,” Dorian’s tight grip amongst her hips forces her body back and forth. His pace more rougher than before. His lust-filled gaze observing her backside clap against him, top row of pearly whites digging into his bottom lip.

No uncertainty, Ruby pumps herself back. “Oh, yes, yes!” Her body burning for him, sweat beads dripping along their melanated frames. She desired for more, no matter how much he filled her up. “Don’t stop… fuck me, fuck me.” The sexual deviant became a certified fein. So far, Dorian wasn’t a disappointment.

Her eyes rolls to the back of her skull for the millionth time tonight. One of her hands reaching behind her back to grip his hip while the other gripped the sheets due to the fervent impact of his strokes. Drool dripping along her chin due to her jaw hanging agape in pure disbelief yet bliss. She hadn’t had her world rocked like this in awhile.

Her arch remained intact, ass up in the air and face down just as he loves it. The view was a true sight for a sore eyes.

The second she looks back at him with that pouty expression upon her face, the throbbing sensation of his phallus intensifies. He isn’t prepared to come just yet. The effect of Ruby was something serious and Dorian hadn’t prepared for it.

Suddenly, an abrupt feeling of Dorian’s member slipping out of Ruby’s cavern earns a whimper. “Put it back in,” She drags out, high-pitched weak voice holding a slight crack due to the amount of shouting she was doing a second ago.

Dorian doesn’t respond. Instead, he lowers himself between her legs. The male figures he would return the favor. “So good.” He groans against her wetness, ravishing her nectar as if it’s his last supper.

“Ouu—” His thumb pressing against her anus. In result, more of her juices dripping along his chin. “Ah, fuck… just like that.” She encourages her lover, fucking his face.

His tongue dragging across her center passionately, not so rough but it was sensual. Soon enough, two of his thick fingers would enter her warm walls again before thrusting them in and out at a gradual pace. The amazing work of his tongue and fingers would cause the beauty to grow weak in the knees.

Dorian was dedicated given his eyelids were shut, his head moving side to side— up and down to lick every angle of her dripping goodness. He was quite adamant on pleasing the woman. He’s his own man and it showed.

Without warning, she squirts onto his gorgeous canvas with a shout, “Fuck!” He would continue his actions resulting in the woman to feel the urge to squirt yet again.

Her aching paradise would be filled to the brim with his love once more, digging in and out of the beauty mercilessly. She released the urge, squirting along his soaked pelvic area while babbling incoherent words. A flushed yet fucked out expression amongst her naturally captivating canvas. “Mhm,” He encourages her, despite not understanding a word she’s uttering.

A firm grip upon her braids would jolt her head backward in his direction as he continued to fuck her into oblivion, her brain growing completely dumb. “Unh, unh, unh, unh!” She shouts into the heated atmosphere. He sends a rough slap to her backside.

“Ah, shit!” Dorian groans, feeling his orgasm approaching. Though, he was about to come— he continued to give her all he had. He was a panting, sweaty mess but he was still incredibly sexy. “Fuck, I love you.” He meant every single word he said.

“I love you more, baby…” She began, tone of voice frail and shaky. “I love this dick.” Her mouth was absolutely filthy but so was Dorian’s. She brought out that side of him.

“I know…” His gaze averting to where their bodies connected. “You’re so fucking wet for me.” With each stroke, her wetness made its presence known— creating an mixtape of its own. Their sex was sticky and sloppy just as the couple loved it.

Their sexual chemistry was better than expected. It took a moment but eventually it transitioned into something unforgettable, ardent.

Her walls tightens around him causing his eyes to roll to the back of his skull, head tossing backward as his tongue drags along his lips. “Shit. I’m gonna cum.” He informs the woman, his thrusts becoming sloppy. Her nectar sloshing against his hardened member, squirting once more.

Their bodies began to shake violently. Oxytocin and Dopamine streaming along their veins as their love comes crashing down upon them. Dorian continues to pound his lover, unable to get enough despite his orgasm sending a slight jolt to his movements. In result, the couple began to grow overstimulated— fucking one another through their orgasm.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Ruby’s voice high-pitched cries out with a light crack before calling out for the most high. They ride out their highs, Dorian grunting aloud as his seed fills up the latex.

Panting heavily, the male’s arms wraps along her waist. His sweaty chest pressing against her back, lips inching closer toward her ear. “You know there’s no going back, right?”

The second their high came down, the couple was brought back to reality. What they did was absolutely wrong, the ultimate stab in the back. Both Ruby and Dorian understood that but neither of them could deny the burning desire of going there with one another. Though it was wrong, it felt right.

They love one another and Lena couldn’t stop that.

Turning to look back at him, a loving grin upon her lips, a twinkle of admiration and adoration in her eye as her gaze sets upon his captivating canvas. “Of course.”

[philaet0s]

Celebrity/Social Media AU - Part 26

Previous Part: Part 25

Next Part: Part 27

back to tweets in the next part!

Simon

A cottage in the middle of the woods. If you’d asked me where I thought Baz was taking me, this would have never been my guess. After spending his entire childhood in a huge, isolated manor, without ever seeing people unless his dad took him to the nearest town, a twenty-minute drive away, let’s say he’s not a fan of secluded places. He likes people and the business of cities.

And he likes luxury hotels. It’s very strange for him to have booked something like this. I ask him about it.

“I’ve been spending my life between the jet and busy cities for the past few months. Reconnecting with nature couldn’t hurt. And you like it, don’t you? I can perfectly picture you frolicing in the garden,” he comments, in a teasing tone, as he looks out the large bay windows that open on ‘the garden’.

That word does not do justice to the large outdoor space this place has. I can’t even see the limits of it from here.

“I am excited to go around the garden,” I answer with a smile.

“I knew it.”

…

Baz has decided that we should have a picnic for lunch. My argument that it’s November, therefore absolutely not the right time of year for a picnic, doesn’t stop him. Neither does my argument that we don’t have any food, and that I was thinking we would rely on delivery services for our trip, as always when we’re away from home. (Right, we do rely on delivery a lot when we’re at home too, but that’s beside the point.)

So there we are. On our way to the nearest grocery store, to get food for our picnic.

Groceries are always a fun experience with Baz. His parents have tons of people working for them, including a cook who is the one doing most of the grocery shopping as he is also the one making most of the meals, and though he has lived alone in the past, a majority of his meals were takeaway or delivery so he never had to worry about groceries then either. Then he had a boyfriend who, as far as he told me, was in charge of food. Now… He has me for that. I’d never trust him with my shopping list.

But, on occasion, I do take him to the shop with me, and I get to watch him walk the aisles like a child in the zoo, marvelling at everything around himself. And putting a shit ton of crap in our cart.

Every word out of my mouth is full of skepticism as I watch the items he grabs. “Do we need four different bars of chocolate?” “It’s November. Why would we buy ice cream? It’s going to melt before we’re back at the cottage anyway.” “You know we can’t survive on sweets only, right?” “We also can’t survive on cheese only.” “You do know that strawberries are not in season, right? Put that back. Here, let’s have some pears if you want fruit.” “Is the hummus really necessary?” “So we’re buying a family-size box of cereal for… 2 days?”

I do put back some of the things he’s added to our cart, but most of it stays. He doesn’t do this often, and it makes him happy. I don’t have the heart to stop him. Besides, it’s not like it’ll go to waste. We’ll bring anything we haven’t eaten here back home.

I’m a little concerned that most of our groceries are not things his dietician would recommend while he’s on tour, but I keep those concerns to myself. I can see him turning my question into a comment about his weight from a mile away. It’s a sensitive spot for him… Which is absurd. He’s put on a few pounds since the beginning of his tour and he’s still slimmer than I’ve been in years. Yet, he never seemed to have issues with my weight. Quite the opposite.

He can have junk food for two days. It’s not like I’m going to tell on him.

As we’re emptying our cart on the belt at checkout, a hesitant voice speaks his name.

I was wondering if that was going to happen.

Surprisingly enough, Baz doesn’t get recognised that often when he’s out and about. Of course, it happens, but far less than what I expected when I met him. He told me it happens more when he’s in the US. Maybe it’s just that a majority of his fans don’t live in the UK.

We both turn to look at the voice. It belongs to a girl, who’s probably only a couple of years younger than us, with her hair bleached so much that it looks white and tons of piercings on her face. Her hair is shaved above her ears and she has tattoos there, that make her look like an elf in a fantasy movie. She’s very pretty.

“Hello, I’m sorry to come onto you like this, I hope I’m not bothering you, I totally understand if this is annoying, but if you don’t mind, could I have a picture with you?”

At least she’s polite. (A bit too polite, the poor girl sounds anxious). Some people don’t even say ‘hello’ before they ask for a picture.

Baz smiles at her kindly. “Sure. What’s your name?”

“Alice.”

“Okay.” He turns to me. “Can I let you handle the groceries? It’s almost our turn.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Thank you. Alice, do you want to go outside for that picture? It might look nicer than with those aisles in the background.

“Oh. Uh. Yeah. I mean, I need to… uh…” She holds up the groceries in her hand. “Pay.”

“Well, then, let’s all pay for our groceries, and then you can have your picture.”

She nods. “Y-Yeah.”

Poor girl. She looks like she might faint.

The lady at checkout looks mildly annoyed with us. With all that chatting, we haven’t finished putting our groceries down and she’s already checked everything else out. We hurry with the rest of our things, then Baz pays. I don’t even argue about it. There was a time when I would have. I don’t like when people pay things for me, but after a while I understood that that was one of the ways in which Baz showed love –I guess that’s what happened when you grow up in a family where you received many gifts but no affection. When I seemed annoyed that he was paying for me again, he would take it very personally. Like it was him I was rejecting and not his offer to spend his money on me.

Besides, he’s rich as hell. He can pay for things.

My contribution is paying for our bills. It makes the most sense since I’m the one who’s at home most of the time, anyway.

We head out of the shop, soon followed by the girl, Alice. She looks incredibly flustered. It’s kind of cute. She clumsily searches for her phone in her tote bag. It’s the sort of behaviour I’m more used to seeing in Baz’s teenage fans.

I offer to take the picture for them, both because it generally looks better than selfies and because that poor girl is so emotional she might not be able to get a good picture. She accepts with a grateful smile, handing me her phone. They pause, I click. Picture taken. Alice thanks me when she takes back her phone, which she quickly drops inside her bag.

“Thank you so much,” she tells Baz, waving her hands in front of her face and blinking fast, like she might cry. “I’m… Sorry, it’s just… I really love your music. It got me through very hard times and I… It’s really a big deal for me. Seeing you. I… If I may take one more minute of your time. I have a tattoo. Inspired by one of your songs. I wanted to show you, if that’s okay.”

“I’d love to see it,” Baz answers.

I wonder how that feels like for him. Someone loving his lyrics so much that they get them tattooed on their body. It’s not a rare occurrence, I see people post their Baz Pitch tattoos on Twitter regularly, but I don’t know if he’s ever seen one in real life. He doesn’t get much interaction with his fans.

Alice pulls up the sleeve of her coat and top to show Baz the inside of her forearm. There, she has a broken violin tattooed, and from what I can see, lyrics from his song Precipice. It’s from the album of Baz’s I listen to the least –Portrait of the Artist as a Madman– because it was written when he was at a very low point in his life and the feelings he expresses in it always make me tear up after a song or two.

“That is not my most cheerful song,” Baz comments, almost teasingly.

“I love your sadder songs more. You have a way of describing feelings and experiences in just a few words that is so… raw and real, but lyrical at the same time. Some of your songs could be poems, it’s… brilliant.”

“Some of my songs were written as poems.”

“I know! I study English at university and the first time I heard In Fairness I lost my mind, I had to listen to it a second time immediately to make sure I wasn’t going crazy and that you had written a song in iambic pentameter! It’s a prowess, really, that you were capable of taking that poetic form and putting it to song, and it’s such a lovely homage to the tradition of poetry and singing being intertwined. And it was such a risk! That’s an unusual way of putting stress in a sentence, it gives an odd rhythm to the song, but… it works so well. And… I talked too much. I’m so, sorry. I’ll leave you now. Thank you so much for your time, it was absolutely brilliant getting to chat with you.”

“Hey, slow down. You just gave me all these compliments and you’re going to walk away without giving me a chance to thank you?”

She flushes.

“I’m very touched to see how much you seem to appreciate my art, and I’m glad you were so impressed by my… bold songwriting decision on In Fairness. The general opinion on that song is that it’s terrible, so it’s quite pleasant hearing someone say something positive about it.”

Oh, to hear Baz talk about his music. I must have the same adoring look on my face as Alice…

Simon and Baz going grocery shopping is actually so special to me, I’ve written so many scenes of then at the grocery shop lol (it’s because I’m obsessed with grocery shops)

[musingmelsuinesmelancholy]

Some things I’ve been thinking about. At times being an American trad witch is incredibly frustrating and at others it’s absolutely exhilarating, rewarding. Reconnecting with my ancestral ( primarily french and scottish ) lore, magical practices, witchcraft etc has and will continue to inform my practice but I’ll never be a “french” witch. I’ll never be a “scottish” witch. I can find a lone hawthorn or a sacred tree guarding a hidden spring to tie the cloutie to, I can divine via a snail’s mucus trail, Fly to the Sabbath to meet The Abbess, heed the Dame Blanches, pluck the golden bloom with songs to St Columba, safeguard me and mine via silver, spring water and juniper. Yet there’s many things I’ll never know or be able to do. Whether that’s because these things are so tied to the land or a specific place, language barriers, ( working to overcome this one ) or due to the ( well warranted) gate keeping of lore and practices.

This used to be a source of great confusion for me. I think because I was afraid( due to my previous new age fuckwittery ) to experiment, do anything other than what I understood as “traditional”. My understanding being too rigid at the time; the pendulum swung from one end of the spectrum to the other. This delayed my progress and “froze” me. I was left wondering what an “American” trad craft would look like; most our books do come from a European POV. Learning of our own magical traditions as well as those of my Canadian family ( still working on that one haha ) helped. Reading Robin Kimmere helped. Reading Schulke, him being an American and writing on American plants, helped too. I’ve come to know Sugar Maple and Plantain as powerful spirits. Both teaching important lessons on how to rectify my ancestors mistakes, to foster relations with the First Peoples and how to incorporate the magic of this land into my craft. Rather than being frustrated by my being American I see it as a challenge now. I get to explore spirits, plants, places, animals, spiritual/physical ecologies ( is even really a difference between these?) completely unknown to my ancestors. I get to reconcile the old and the new. To learn from Spirit Direct. Tradition isn’t the worship of ashes, it’s the preservation of Fire. New wood must be added to keep The Fire burning. The Devil of this land certainly is a spirit of the unknown.

I am the land, the land is me.

I don’t own it, to it I owe all.

To it my body will return, the tithe paid.

I’m not rolling hills of heather, white chalk cliffs, the monk’s island nor the azure coast. The memories of these places echo distantly in my blood, sung alive by my ancestors shades. Part of me they’ll always be; yet it’s not who I am. Not what I am.

I’m craggy shores, dull-jade waves bearing down upon the tired rocks. I am musky pine forests veiled in mist. Sun-venerating oaks hugging the shoreline. Bleeding alders in damp ground swelling. Proud maples sustaining generation upon generation with their boiled blood. Death-grey clay, exposed by running spring.

I am the kudzu, the itching moth, the knotweed, the Norway maple, the ivy wrecking havoc upon the land. My surname and light skin proof of a genocide ongoing. I am my ancestors sins; the specter of the Old Growth forests, their grief hanging over the land like a fog. Every interaction with The Land tinged with sadness, loss.

I am my maternal side’s copper curls. Melusine’s pride. Ave Landry! Ave Gauthier! Forebears mine.

I am my paternal side’s grief. The end result of decades of cultural warfare. The Jesuits stole our name….my hair will not be cut.

Never will I libate these glacier carved valleys with booze.

I am the plantain, learning a kinder way. The sumac reclaiming the orchard.

My Februarys, my Marches aren’t snow drops and daffodils peaking through the frozen ground. They’re steely skies and walls of sleet. Bloodroot heralds winters wane; not Brigid’s flower.

My June isn’t fields of poppies, it’s seas of crimson staghorn blooms skyward reaching.

My augusts aren’t golden shafts of wheat, swaying in summer’s last breaths; they’re explosions of neon-violet and honey-yellow. Corn ripening on the vine, supporting the climbing bean. The cicadas song reverberating.

Old Michaelmas marks harvest’s end, October potatoes long buried in soils darkness finally exhumed. The Devil his Rosy Briar to ascend and plunge.

With Novembers first snows the Dead come in.

I’ll never process around a standing stone nor know what it is to live and eat off the land my dead lay in. Finally, I’m learning to be at peace with this. To love and know the land I live on. I’ll always be a stranger here, a guest. I hope to be a good one.

[wonwins]

unspoken bond

itadori yuji x reader - non sorcerer!au

maybe in another life you wouldn't have been so oblivious

cw: angsts, fluff if you squint, timeskips

wc: 909

author's note ~ writing is my form of procrastination lol also how do you even conclude stories wth?!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

yuji was your soulmate. maybe it was romantic or maybe it was just platonic. it was painful to everyone around you two to see how much love you held for each other. you were fools nonetheless. you loved yuji and he loved you–not that you ever uttered those words to each other before–over time you just knew.

to everyone else it was so obvious. the way your mood would change if he wasn’t in class or the way yuji would be slightly more reserved when you weren’t around. you brought out the better qualities of each other. everyone could hear the agonising jokes yuji made yet it made tears run down your face from laughter or see the way you two would sit together at the back of class with your heads together giggling until the teacher would tell you to be quiet or just move you across the rooms from one another.

you guys thought, “that’s what friends do, no?”

in private was another story. of course people thought there was something more between you two while you were out in public, often being mistaken as a couple when you would go out for lunch together which you two would laugh about. but in private it was the way you would confide in each other. be there when the other one was struggling. a shoulder to rest on. the way when you were feeling sad, yuji would wrap his arm around you as you curled into his chest.

sometimes you would just sit in silence but in each other's company. at times someone would slip out without a word and come back with food and silently pass it to one another. since you were young, it was like you’ve been able to communicate without words.

the end of high school was growing near and it was stressing you out. you were nervous for what life after high school meant. you had kept yourself in this little bubble, not thinking about what it would mean to be an adult.

as well you and yuji were parting. it caused your heart to hurt just thinking about it. yuji was going to university in tokyo but you were planning on going abroad for your post-secondary studies.

it was coming faster than you thought. you made sure to spend as much time together whether that be playing video games or lying in the sun reading (well you would read, yuji would just sleep…and occasionally just watch as your faces changed depending on what you were reading about).

yuji was there with your family while you said goodbye at the airport. tears threatening to fall, you hugged everyone first before moving to yuji. you wrapped your arms around him, hugging him like you’d never see each other again. you promised each other to keep in contact and see each other when you got back.

“i love you, yuji.” you murmured. it was like there was another meaning to your words, and if there was you were leaving anyways no point to dwelling on it. it was time to part ways.

“i love you too, yn.” he said, his voice slightly wavering like he was going to cry.

you pulled back and laughed quietly. “don’t cry on me now!”

“shut up, i’m not!”

“yeah yeah whatever.” you smiled. a smile that yuji wish he could bottle up and hold dear to himself forever.

months passed and you both had started school in different places. it took a while to get used to life without each other. you wondered if maybe you would ever feel whole again. you would find yourself missing his hugs when you were homesick.

maybe later you would reconnect and things would be like they were before or maybe you had reached that point in life where you were meant to leave for you own journeys.

you’d sometimes look at his social media and see a girl. he looked so happy with her. the aching in your chest lasted for days, weeks even. maybe you did love him and not in the way you always thought.

yuji felt like shit. he didn’t feel for this girl like he did for you. he has known for years that he loved you more than a friend. he often had girls ask him out but would decline in hopes that some day you might feel the same. when you left, yuji felt so sad. he messaged one of the girls to ask if her offer for coffee was still open.

over the years you slowly lost contact. it just happened slowly. you'd get so wrapped up in your studies that you'd forget to reply for a day, then a week until it became mainly birthdays you'd message.

it wasn’t till years later you ran into each other. the ring on your finger and the little baby that you held in your arms panged yuji’s heart but he was happy to see you happy.

you knew yuji your whole life. you saw the glance at your ring and then the way his eyes flickered. your heart twisted for what could have been.

maybe in another life yuji would tell you how he felt earlier. maybe in other life you would have kept in contact with him trying to reconnect when you came back to japan.

all you hoped was that in another life yuji was still your soulmate. you wouldn’t trade that for the world.

[kellshaw]

Entropy impacts your fantasy world

Entropy infects all systems. Things wear down, and either collapse or shake apart into new configurations.

Fantasy worlds are divided into a series of ages, where myths are split apart from legends and history. They might look like this Middle-Earth inspired history (at least my high school D&D campaign world did):

First Age - Gods walk the earth, or make the world. Evil gods are dealt with or bound.

Second Age - The great civilizations flourish, items of remarkable power of crafted and legendary battles occur. Famous institutions like kingdoms, and bloodlines are established.

Third Age - Not as epic, as the first or second age. The hero grows up on a farm or distant location and learns about the age of magic. Perhaps they’ll inherit a sword or learn lost secrets. There are ruins everywhere. Some dark threat left over from the second age will return and be dealt with. Perhaps the hero will reconnect with one of the elite institutions established in the second age.

Fourth Age - The age of magic ends, and everything changes. Elves sail away, gods leave the world, and hand it over to people, who, live in wisdom and peace and tell stories about the good old days to the kids.

This is also a metaphor for human life. The first age is childhood when you believe impossible things and dragons, the second age is when you’re young, fighting for your passions, the third age is when you get your job and learn how the systems of the world work. And the fourth age is when you’re paying off the mortgage, and you don’t have time to play D&D anymore or read books, but you’ve got fond memories of those days and will tell your bored family members about the good old days.

Let’s cut to 2020, COVID era. I’m in the fourth age of my life. During lockdown, I work through a bunch of intense personal stuff. One of them is that my epic fantasy novel series is doomed not to be finished in its current state—it’s lost in a muddle of endless rewrites. The book had lots of POVs, good character work and world building, but not much of a plot apart from an expedition across a continent. Time to recognize that it would never be done. I’ll never be Brandon Sanderson. (At least with that book.)

I get out my shotgun, place the barrel against the malformed, beating dreams of finishing that series, and pull the trigger.

Time to reboot. Start something else. I need to create I can finish. Shorter, less epic. Except, being one of those eternal gamemaster types, I can’t tell stories without a world.

Yeah, I could build any world I want and—my subconscious wants to design a setting in a fantasy world’s fourth age. When I was younger, the concept of the fourth age horrified me. Who’d want to tell stories in a world where the magic went away, and everything was about modern life, office workers and cars? 

Now, I find that interesting. Because the past is a magical one, right? How would that influence the modern day? And how did the magic leave the world? What if something went wrong with the final epic battle between light and darkness? What if losing magic was a last ditch strike? A nuclear option. Not a gentle fading of magic like in Middle-Earth—a planned obsolescence—but a catastrophe mess that broke the world.

And what if magic survived, but became hidden, messy and complicated?

So that’s the key idea I had when designing my world. Modern, yet with a hidden layer of magic.

Now to figure out what that looked like. And what sort of stories would it drive?

How about you—did you build your world by thinking about this sort of thing to start with (themes) or did you start with some other idea? Or even a sense of a character or a vision of a scene? (I love the story by CS Lewis how his initial idea for Narnia was simply a mental picture of Lucy and Mr. Tumnus walking arm-in-arm through a snowy wood...)

[jarofstyles]

FICTOBER DAY 15- Don't You Wonder What's In The Woods?

This one is creepy but if you've lived in similar places you'll know what he's talking about....

FICTOBER

Patreon

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Y/N’s eyes roamed the treeline, watching as the sun set. It was beautiful, the changing leaves falling from the trees and a slight ringing in the air from the wind chimes on the porch. Harry’s house was settled on a piece of land with a mine or two between neighbors, something that Y/N had initially been spooked by considering she was a city girl that moved here to be closer to her family she was reconnecting with. Harry was a happy accident, a coffee shop cliche turned into a… lover? No labels as of yet, but Y/N was sure that Harry thought of her as his. The public hand holding and kisses goodbye just a few months into her living here had people’s heads turning. 

At first, she had stayed in her condo closer to town. Harry had visited there for a while out of convenience, but when they started getting closer and spending whole weekends together, she had been more than okay when he suggested she come to his house for the weekend. It was a beautiful home, wooden and rustic with a large wrap around porch. He had a big detached garage and a garden, and a few dogs and cats that roamed the property during the day but he said always came in at night. 

At her feet lay his border collie, Domino, and at his was the german shepherd Tater. (His little cousin got to choose his name, and Harry called him Tate but- Y/N liked the blush when he introduced them). On the gliding bench on her lap was his other, a long haired Chihuahua named Big. Puns, of course. Their mugs had their tea, slightly cooled off now as he had his arm wrapped around her. The weather was getting nippier but he had no problem keeping her warm. The man was big and smelled incredible, not to mention he was a furnace. Fingers stroked Big as her eyes watched the orange sunlight bleed through the trees. 

As it got darker, though, he began to get fidgety. She noticed his knee shaking as he tapped his foot, looking at his watch before giving her a kiss on the head. The comfortable quiet was something she really liked- until she heard a shriek in the woods. It was blood curdling, a sound she had never heard before and sent a terror into her stomach. Her body was screaming that something was wrong, something was telling her to run, but she didn’t. She didn’t know what that was. Stiffening up, she looked at Harry wide eyed as the dogs lift their heads, eyes on the trees with a low growl. Harry was watching them, jaw clenched slightly as he beat her to it. 

“It’s alright. Don’t worry.” He whispered, relaxing slightly but keeping his eyes on the dogs. “Happens sometimes.” 

“And you don’t wonder what it is? How often does it happen?” She sputtered, laughing slightly at how he had dismissed that. Granted, he was the one who lived here his whole life. He knew better, but there was something off about it.  “Don’t you ever wonder what’s in the woods? What makes a noise like that?” The girl babbled.

Y/N did not expect him to turn her face, a scarily serious look on his face as he began to talk. “It’s my fault for not… telling you some of the unspoken rules of living out here, but trust me when I say it’s better that we don’t know what’s lurking out there.” His voice was quiet but stern, making Y/N wonder what the hell went on for this to be so serious.

“You never get curious?” Y/N asked. “It’s just bears and cougars and stuff, right? Maybe we should go and look to see if someone is hurt-”

“No.” He said firmly. “It’s… I know you’ll think it’s crazy, but I’m telling you that it isn’t a person who made that sound. I know it.”

“I’ve never heard a bird who sounded like that.” She laughed uneasily, taken aback at the sudden shift. He seemed scared, but irritated almost at her question. 

“Me either. But that’s what we are going to tell ourselves it is. It’s better than the alternative.” He said, looking her in the eye. “You aren’t from here, and you’re going to have to learn a lot. That’s no fault of your own. But let me tell you something.” He tipped her head up. “One of the most important things about living out here, in their woods, especially at night- things we don’t know, they know about us. And we don’t know how or what they can do. It’s gone back years and years. If you don’t believe me, humor me for this one thing. Don’t go into those woods alone, ever.” 

It made her eyes widen. She’d known Harry to be silly, soft, loving. But this was a new side to him, a very serious side that had her stomach turning in knots. He was deadly with it. There was no doubt he believed what he was saying.  “I-I won’t.” She promised. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“No- No, you didn’t.” He softened slightly, visibly feeling bad for making her worried as he brushed his thumb over her chin sweetly. “Didn’t upset me darling. I just need you to understand I’m not joking. There are rules no one talks about, things people do that wouldn’t make sense to anyone who hasn’t lived it- and I hope you’ll never have to experience a scare. But listen to me carefully, and remember that you’re safe with me, okay?” He pressed a chaste kiss to her lips before continuing. “If you hear something, no you didn’t. If you see something? No you didn’t. Don’t answer if someone calls your name and you can’t tell who it is. Don’t look into the trees at night- keep the blinds closed at night. And whatever you do, don’t run.” He paused. “They like to chase.”

[crazypaperwasteland]

My Heart-Simon “Ghost” Riley Oneshot

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

Summary: When Grave’s captures Simon’s wife, he spirals into sorrow while he tries to come up with a plan to get her back. When he does, he realizes he wasn’t the only one hurting from their abrupt separation. 

Warnings: Angst (Just a bit), not proof read

A/N: I haven’t played the game yet, but I think like most people, I have developed an unhealthy obsession with this man. So if there are any inaccuracies, I’m sorry, just roll with it :)

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.2k

Simon’s POV-

I was going to kill Graves. I was going to kill him slowly, and brutally, if he so much as touched a hair on (Y/N)’s head. I’d seen the Shadows snag her after Graves revealed his true intentions. I went into panic mode for a full fifteen or so minutes before I finally managed to pull myself together. 

When Soap reconnected on me over the comms I was able to screw my head on straight and focus. Focus on getting him back. When I did though and we made it to Alejandro’s safe house, there was no mission. There was nothing to keep my mind busy and on track, there was just worry. 

(Y/N) was a pilot, one of the best, hence why Price put her on this task force. She had basic combat training, but it wasn’t enough to keep her safe from getting captured. 

While everyone was getting rest, the safehouse was very dark, very quiet. The only light came in through the window from the moonlight. People were piled in different corners of the room, some snoring softly. 

I sat down, against the wall, staring down at the picture in my hand. The tiny polaroid I kept in my pocket. I didn’t even notice Soap approaching me on light feet until he sat down next to me. “What are you thinkin’ about Lt?”

I didn’t say anything, just stared down at the picture. (Y/N)’s face lit up in a smile while holding her son, Tommy, close to her side, me in the back in my mask, ruffling his (h/c) hair while he swatted at me, laughing. 

Soap looked over, giving the photo a once over. He looked back at my mask, “I didn’t know that you and (Y/N) were so close.” I shrugged. What could I say to that? Me and (Y/N) have been married for three years? We’re in a relationship? Me and her have a son? “That your kid?”

I shook my head, “hers.” I could never take Tommy’s father’s place. Even though he didn’t remember him. 

Soap took a breath in through his nose, “we’ll get her back, Ghost.” I furrowed my brows as I studied that photo, (Y/N)’s face permanently burned into my mind. If I closed my eyes, it would still be there, a perfect picture of her in one of her happiest moments. 

“I don’t know Graves very well, I couldn’t say if he’s killed her or not.” I paused, “if he hasn’t yet, he still might.”

“He won’t, Lt.” Soap assured me, “she is one of the best pilots I have ever seen. If Graves can, he will do everything possible to get her on his side. He has planes, helicopters, fighter jets, he has all the weapons at his disposal, he just needs a pilot to use them.”

I wanted to believe that. What Soap said was true, logically, it made sense. But with my emotions now mixed in with everything, logic was thrown out the window. “I hope you’re right about that.”

“Don’t you know by now? I’m always right.” Soap nudged my shoulder with his, “(Y/N) is a badass, she won’t let anything happen to herself. You don’t have to worry, Lt. We’ll get her back.”

I closed my fist around the polaroid, leaning my head on my knees for a moment. I felt Soap’s hand on my arm, I tensed up at the touch. Shrugging him off, I stood up and stepped outside so I could think in peace. Not that I didn’t appreciate Soap trying to help, but crying in front of my subordinate was not on my bucket list. 

I needed to get (Y/N) back. I needed her to be alive; if she wasn’t, I couldn’t be sure if I would be able to go on living in a world where she wasn’t. I touched the ring hung around my neck alongside my dog tags. 

When we got everyone out of their cells at base, I scoured around the entirety of the base looking for (Y/N). When I found her in solitary, a couple of cells down from where Alejandro had been kept, she was shrouded in shadow. 

I walked in, hearing her breathing shakily. The light coming in through the door allowed me to see the toes of her boots in the darkest corner of the room. “Sweetheart…” I surged forward and kneeled down in front of her. She had her head buried in her knees, not allowing herself to look at me, her arms covered her ears, so as to not hear me. Or whoever she thought I was. “(Y/N),” I reached out cautiously and gripped her forearm gently, not even really grabbing it, sliding my fingers along it. “Look at me, sweet girl.”

Her arms retracted slowly and she peaked at me, then I saw her eyes widen in the dark before she lunged forward, throwing her arms around me. Shaking and sniffling. “Simon…”

“Yeah, I’m here now, it’s okay,” I whispered, I pulled up my mask for a moment and kissed the side of her head. I held her close to me, reveling in the feeling of her warmth. Her closeness. Both of which told me she was alive, maybe not entirely well, but alive. “You’re gonna be okay.”

I felt her tears hit my neck, soaking through the cloth of my mask. She was still shaking. “I wanna go home now.”

“I know,” I stroked my gloved fingers through her hair, rocking her back and forth, still sitting on the gross concrete of the floor. She was sitting in my lap, clinging to me like a lifeline. “We will soon, baby.” 

It was concerning to me how…broken she seemed. We’d been in bad spots before, held hostage before, but she’d usually bounce back quickly when she was out of danger. She would usually pull herself together and get back to work. But she was still shaking, still crying, still clutching me like I’d disappear. 

Her face was buried into my shoulder, “I thought you were dead, Si.” Oh. Oh shit. There was a wet patch on my neck, soaking straight through the mask. 

I’d spent this whole time thinking of her being dead. It never occurred to me that she may not have seen me get away like I saw her get taken. “Oh, no, sweetheart.” I held her closer, “no, I’m right here.” I grabbed her hand and placed it on the opposite side of my neck she rested her face in, pressing two of her fingers against my pulse point. “I’m still here.” I allowed her to feel my heartbeat, I steadied the shaking of her hand with my own. 

I was never going to let her go again. I gripped the backs of her thighs and stood up, she wrapped her legs around me and held on tighter to me. I brought her up to where everyone else was, some of them hugging, others laughing and celebrating our small victory against Graves. 

(Y/N) was still shaking slightly in my arms and still hadn’t looked up from my neck. Soap stared at us as I carried her, so did everyone else who noticed us. But I couldn’t find it in myself to care. I cradled the back of her head, massaging her scalp as I tried to find an empty room for her to calm down in. 

I was okay now. My mission was now to take down Graves, then Hassan, and get my wife, my heart, home to her son. 

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Dancing ‘til the break of dawn - Pt10

<Pt9

(TWST Zombie apocalypse AU where Yuu beast tames just a little too close to the sun)

Yuu sighed internally as he watched Trey and Cater chat. They were hitting it off, though Yuu was hardly surprised about that — Cater was pretty obviously desperate for social interaction, judging by the entire radio broadcast he had thrown together to get his voice out there, and Trey was rather amiable.

He seemed like a nice guy.

But.

Yuu was struggling to ignore the fact that he was, apparently, holding someone captive. ‘For their own good’, yes, however…

Well, Yuu had gone through that himself. He could more or less ignore Ace’s… strange tendencies, in large part because he hadn’t yet had to deal with being eaten, and therefore it wasn’t all that easy to conceptualize the true horrors of what he was doing. But Yuu knew exactly what it had been like to stay trapped in a house for an extended period of time with no one but your captor to talk to.

It had… not ended well.

After all, Yuu was now allowed out. He could even talk to people, now, without Grim immediately trying to kill them! Even Grim had acknowledged, implicitly, that letting people outside so they can interact with others is necessary.

Yeah, everyone that had survived this long was clearly not a great person (save for Yuu himself, of course), but humans are social creatures. Most social interactions may end in attempted murders, but damn if they aren’t something!

So, what should he do to deal with this?

Yuu groaned, his head tipping back against Ace’s shoulder so he could see his face. “I’ve decided being a good person is for losers. Help me be evil.”

Ace’s eyes lit up, as if he had been not-so-patiently waiting for this day. “You’ve come to the right guy! I’m an expert in all things evil!”

“I know.”

Ace sent him a dirty look. As if he hadn’t totally walked into that one.

Then, he hooked his arm through Yuu’s, dragging them both up and over to where Cater was standing.

“Hey, Cater, I’m taking Yuu out. Can we borrow your gun, so he can defend himself?”

“Not a chance!” he said, cheerfully.

Yuu and Ace sulked. Now how were they supposed to steal it?

Whatever.

Yuu walked over to where Deuce was still trying to figure out how to fix the radio station. He, too, was sulking, but for a different reason:

“You won’t want to come on this trip,” Yuu said.

Deuce opened his mouth to argue.

“We’re getting Grim and me some food, you won’t want to be there for it,” Ace cut him off.

Deuce’s mouth clicked shut. He looked at Yuu, his eyebrows raised.

Yuu ignored the silent question, kneeling to pluck a hammer out of the toolbox. Deuce made a sound of protest at the blatant theft that had happened right in front of him.

Yuu kicked his bat over to him. “This should work well enough. Besides, I don’t think you’re going to be doing any hammering, since you’re mostly just reconnecting wires.”

Deuce scowled, but went back to work.

That done, Yuu went to the closet for Grim. The zombie immediately clambered up his pant leg and found a place in his hoodie pocket, only his head peeking out.

It, honestly, didn’t put as much strain on him as it probably should have. Which was nice, he supposed, he personally preferred not being in pain. However, he couldn’t help but be a little worried. Oh, his baby was practically skin and bones! He must have been so worried for him. The poor thing. Yuu slid his hand into his pocket, rubbing the place beneath Grim’s chin that the cat always loved.

“Is — is that a zombie?” Trey asked, his voice much higher in pitch than it usually was.

“Yeah…” said Cater, resignedly.

“He’s perfect. No notes,” Yuu said, ignoring the fact that Grim had started baring his teeth at Trey in warning.

“… no normal people in the apocalypse,” sighed Trey.

“I’m normal! You’re all just too abnormal to see!” Yuu said, immediately, his face reddening.

Ace poked his cheek. “Hey! Don’t talk like that! You’re not going to get evil with an attitude like that.”

Yuu scowled. He hated this already. Why was he doing this, again?

“Be safe out there!” Trey called, still a little faint, but clearly trying to be supportive.

He gritted his teeth and dragged Ace outside with him. He really should just start letting Ace kill people. Slightly less mental turmoil that way.

~

He should not let Ace kill people jesus fucking christ holy shit why is Ace so terrifying?!

Yuu’s grip tightened on his hammer as he watched Ace take down the poor, unfortunate soul who had just so happened to be within the vicinity. He pinned them to a nearby wall by the shoulder. With his knife.

Yuu realized that he had never actually seen Ace attempt to kill someone before (outside of that one time he didn't want to think about… not that it really counted anyway, considering the circumstances…).

He had known, intellectually, that it would be brutal. Ace used a knife as his preferred weapon, after all, but… it was one thing to know something and another thing entirely to see it with your own two eyes.

Yuu reminded himself that the poor girl wouldn’t have lasted that long regardless of what she did, thanks to Grim’s misogynistic streak.

It really didn’t soothe him all that much — it was much easier to just let Grim kill her and get it over with! Barely any moral dilemmas involved! Grim needs to eat humans to survive, and Yuu does not want to be one of those humans! It’s a simple trade off.

One that he could no longer afford, it seemed.

Ace turned to Yuu, smiling. “Right, your turn!”

“What?” said Yuu, jolting back into the moment.

“She’s not going to be able to get away, and she can’t scream anymore, either. So, it shouldn’t be hard for you!”

Is that why Ace had torn out her tongue?! Should Yuu be thanking him?! Because he doesn’t think he can open his mouth right now to do so, he would definitely throw up.

“She’ll die anyways,” Ace said, when Yuu stood there, unmoving. Barely even blinking. “She’ll bleed out. If anything, you killing her will be a mercy.”

Yuu… couldn't. Ace had clearly gone to the effort to make this as easy a transition for his conscience as was possible, but he just couldn’t.

He couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t —!

He felt a weight shift in his pocket, and a blur of green was the only warning the pair of them got before Grim had sunk his teeth into the girl’s leg.

It didn’t take long for the infection to set in. It never did. It was an almost scarily quick process, watching the green creep over her exposed skin, her eyes draining of all life. A small patch of moss formed over the infection site, as if to try and cover it up.

For a moment, it was silent.

And then Ace fell to his knees. “My food…”

“I mean, you could still try to eat it,” Yuu said, still hugging his hammer like a lifeline. “It could be an interesting science experiment.”

Ace gave him a mildly incredulous look. “You do it then!”

“Nah, Grim would be mad.”

Grim nodded once, firmly.

Ace sighed and shifted to sit, his knees pulled to his chest, his knife held in a deceptively loose hand.

‘Deceptively’ because Ace’s eyes never left the monster in their midst. It didn’t matter that Grim had long-since proven that he wouldn’t kill him, he would never risk it.

(The zombie was new, too, still trying to figure out how to move around, Ace could overpower it with ease, if it ever came to that. But old habits die hard.)

After a beat of hesitation, Ace patted the ground beside him.

Yuu’s nose scrunched. There was a puddle of blood on the floor. He did not want to sit in it. Fucking gross.

Ace raised an eyebrow at him.

He… sighed and sat down, mumbling that they would need to stop by a store and get new clothes after this.

Yuu felt Ace’s head come to settle upon his good shoulder. Ace had been far more openly affectionate as of late. Whether that was because he was just that rattled that Yuu had almost gotten shot or if the cuddle session they’d had afterward (that Yuu would claim he didn’t remember until the end of time) had broken a dam mentally, he really didn’t know. Either way, he was only mildly surprised by the person leaning on him.

“I don’t… get you,” Ace said, after a while, his eyes still tracing the zombie’s movement as it stumbled towards a nearby alley to try to disappear. “Why are you so… against it?”

“I think most people are averse to murder, Ace,” Yuu said flatly.

Ace snorted. “Not here, not anymore. And I get that you have Grim, so you probably haven’t had to kill as much directly, but...”

Yuu snorted. “My kill count is both zero and well into the thousands.”

He looked at him for a long moment, as if hoping he could find the answers in his face. Yuu, kind of, hoped he could, too, because he was kind of concerned that Ace might try to literally dissect him to figure everything out if it came to that.

Yuu looked away. The zombie was gone. Grim had left, too, seemingly to give them space to talk. Yuu didn’t know if he appreciated that or not. He hated talking.

He ran his thumb along the grip of his hammer for a moment, feeling the rubber ridges.

For a moment, Yuu wanted to admit that he was, in part, at fault for the apocalypse. Sure, he couldn’t have known, but that didn’t change the fact that, had he left that ‘stray’ by the road that day, things might have been far different. He had just wanted to help, he hadn’t expected —!

He swallowed, thickly, his head coming to rest atop Ace’s.

“I, um… I don’t want to…” he took a deep breath. “I’ve… done a lot of terrible stuff to survive, since this all started. I mean, there’s a very real chance that, if we kill Grim, the entire thing will go up in flames. That’s what happens in the movies, when you kill the center of the hive mind, after all, but…” He bit his lip. “I’m… scared. I’m always so scared. I don’t want to risk it.”

Ace didn’t say a word.

“A lot of people have died because of me, Ace, I can’t… I can justify it if you or Grim kills someone, because you’d be doing that anyway, but… with my own two hands… if I do it, then I’m the one doing it.” He gave a laugh, but it was halfhearted, and, embarrassingly, sounded closer to a sob. “God, it sounds kind of stupid aloud, yeah?”

Ace gave a snort.

After a beat of hesitation, he reached over and pulled the hammer from Yuu’s hand.

“I — uh — kind of get it? In a weird way? I…” Ace grimaced. “The first few days of the apocalypse, I… wasn’t… okay. I barely understood what was going on — no one knew, back then. It kinda just seemed like everyone had gone fucking insane. I remember — I… took down a zombie. I didn’t know it was a zombie, then, but that’s what it was. But, um… well, it wasn’t great.”

Yuu remembered that time. He hadn’t been let outside, then, but he could still see out the window. Could hear on broadcasts, back when the electronics still worked (and wasn’t that a strange thing to think about, these days?). It had been chaotic, to say the very least.

“I… after my first ‘kill’, I kind of thought I was… irredeemable. And so I…” He groaned. “I said, ‘Well, if I have already done that, why not sink as low as possible? I will end up going to hell, anyway.’ It was… freeing, in a way? I guess? If I just say ‘Yeah, I am a bad person, so what?’ then I don’t have to deal with all the… all of the…” He waved a hand, vaguely. “Y’know.”

Yuu did know.

He snickered. “Oh. So, we’re just opposites, then.”

Ace hummed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Yuu sighed, turning his head just slightly, to look at him. “I’m sorry for bringing you all the way out here just to chicken out.”

Ace snorted, lifting his head just slightly. “I’m going to be honest, here, since it seems like the thing for today: I really didn’t expect you to go through with it.”

Yuu wasn’t sure whether he should be offended or not. Regardless, he smiled a little when he joked that, “I could kill someone! You don’t know!”

“I do, though,” Ace said, something soft in his eyes as he tipped his head forward to rest his forehead against Yuu’s. “Don’t worry, though, I’m here to save the day! So, you can just sit back and look pretty, I’ll deal with all of the gross, morally complex shit for you.”

Yuu felt warmer than the early autumn air should have allowed for.

But they had already meet their genuineness quota for the day — for the whole damn month, actually — so…

“Awwww, you think I’m pretty?” Yuu teased, batting his eyelashes.

“Well, it’s not like I can call your scrawny ass handsome, so…”

He pushed Ace’s face away. “Rude.”

Ace only laughed.

~

Yuu hummed as he looked through the clothes options at the random store they’d found. Grim still wasn’t back, but that was fine — he’d find them whenever he wanted to, he had eyes everywhere thanks to his hive mind.

So… they can concentrate on clothes shopping!

Yuu picked up a light purple shirt. “Do you think this would look good on me?”

Ace barely even glanced over as he pulled a rather thick, red varsity jacket off of the rack. “Nah, that color’ll wash out your face. Try something a little darker. And! You should be focusing on finding long sleeves! Winter is coming!”

“Yeah, okay, mom,” grumbled Yuu, putting it back on the rack.

“You asked for my opinion!”

“YoU aSkEd FoR mY oPiNiOn.”

Ace rolled his eyes. He plucked a dark blue jacket off of the rack, probably for Deuce. “Just grab yourself a hoodie like usual so we can be done with this.”

Yuu huffed and pulled out a sweater instead, just to spite him. And it was an off the shoulder one, so he wouldn’t have to worry about anything chafing against his wound.

But it would make his injury pretty obvious to anyone who might see…

He pulled it over his head, pushing wet hair out of his eyes. “Alright, let’s go.”

Ace hesitated, playing with his knife.

“… fine, we can try to find someone for you to eat, but if we don’t find anyone by sundown then we’re going back!”

Ace beamed.

~

They stepped back into the radio station the next morning to very little fanfare.

Cater was still fast asleep, in a corner, his gun hugged close to himself like a childhood blankie. Deuce, too, was asleep, curled up on the floor, around Grim.

Trey was awake, tinkering with the broken broadcast console, looking very much lost.

Ace walked over to Deuce and, gently, set the new jacket over him and Grim.

Yuu, however, made his way over to Trey.

Trey looked over, raising an eyebrow, smiling softly. “Yes?”

“I want to meet your friend. You said you can’t bring him here, but surely you can take us to him?”

Trey dropped his screwdriver in surprise.

~~~~~

Pt11>

[chevelleneech]

Episode two, there is a wide shot of the boat they’re one and we can see the entire crew sitting in front of them. Maybe some are staff from the boating company, but that isn’t relevant.

What’s relevant, is Jimin and Jungkook start play fighting in front of cameras and what appears to be 8 to 12 people, yet it comes across on screen as if it’s just the two of them enjoying each others company, and that to me is so interesting.

We know they’re comfortable in front of cameras, but for some reason it put into perspective just how little we see of their interactions off screen, when they are peak touchy-feely. Because Jimin giving Jungkook a hickey off camera was such a crazy thing to learn, but seeing how they act in Are You Sure makes it easy to see how it happened. But what makes it extra crazy, is the fact that how they are in the show is the ultimate baseline for how they’ve interacted over the years.

They play fight and flirt a lot, and they like being near each other. Yet had JK’s ear suck never made it to the big screen at the concert or if JK chose to cover up his bite mark from Jimin, we would only know them to be as close as what’s shown in AYS.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is, if play fighting and hanging out for hours on end doing nothing and drinking has always been their dynamic… it really and truly is the presence of cameras that stops them getting physical. Because the ear suck has not been mentioned by a single person within their camp, and if it was meant to be a dare or prank, they’d have said it. I think JK was caught up in the moment and possibly didn’t realize the audience could even see Jimin’s ear in his mouth.

The bite mark is different, because they didn’t have to own up to that. They could have hid it and never spoke of it, but they didn’t. Much like their vibes in AYS concerning JM’s bubble guts, they were upfront about it. It is what it is, but like… why make it our business, you know?

I don’t know. I just feel like I’m realizing that what we know of their past and present actions, coupled with what we’re seeing during a time where they were reconnecting essentially, builds an even bigger, “not just friends” picture. Because when cameras are rolling and they’re giving us what loser ass people like to call “forced fan service” we see them touching all over one another and giggling and showing concern and having fun. When cameras aren’t rolling or when we they are in a moment where they may have acted first and thought second, mouths come in to play.

Yes, those moments are years old now and there’s no way to know if it’ll happen again, but one does not go from “We haven’t seen each other in a while, and if not for this show it would be longer.” to buddy system enlistment with someone whose mouth has been on intimate places on their body. That’s just not a thing that happens, I’m sorry.

So I really am starting to think they aren’t friends, because they crossed that boundary. And I think early 2023 showed them why doing that maybe wasn’t the best idea, and AYS probably was a bad idea (Jimin’s gut was trying to tell him something low key, lol) because they start the series saying they hadn’t really connected in a bit, yet ended it agreeing to 18 months side by side.

I’m not going to make this post any longer than it needs to be, because I’m honestly just rambling my thoughts down, but… yeah… I think Jimin and JK might be kind of messy. Not to each other, but in a complicated, not-platonic-not-committed way. And maybe I’m alone in this, but I’m not saying they aren’t friends. They obviously are, but I don’t think they can be just friends. They come across as either flirting or there’s a palpable intent when they don’t touch or tease one another, and I really don’t think normal friends have that.

[kyriaejiraiblog]

i feel like i’m dying so long vent wwwww

i have basically no plans for my future, and my dad is always upset about it, and i can’t even begin to explain why cutting feels so good, and that only makes him more upset and think im insane because i “don’t like pain,” and i “have had an extremely easy life,” and i ruined my entire senior year of high school, and im such a lost cause that i have almost no options anymore

but i can’t kill myself, because even if i wasn’t too pathetic to follow through, my dad said it’s the coward’s way out and i can’t let him win… i feel like im always losing, whether it be friends, money, any possible future…. i can’t lose to him too. i need to figure out how to get out of here. i need to leave. he says i have had everything easy, that because i haven’t gone hungry, have a roof over my head, have running water and electricity, that im lucky he has a high stable income because of how he’s suffered in the past… but he doesn’t know how hard it is to wake up every day.

he says i’m lazy, very smart but so lazy. but there’s a reason i have that depression diagnosis. i want to do so much, but i just don’t have the energy or drive to. i barely have the energy to draw, even for commissions or other people. he says i put so much effort into miku expo, and refuse to do anything for my future. what he doesn’t realize is how hard it was to even start styling that wig, how i bought a cosplay off of amazon 2 days before when i wanted to see one myself. he doesn’t realize that i did, in fact, forget that the concert was happening, until one of the friends i was going with texted me about it.

he says i need a boyfriend. that having one will make me happy. i want to date someone. i really do. but i have such a specific preference that i know it’ll never happen. and even if it does, i know that ill become so obsessive over them that ill drive myself further into a void. because its happened before. i wasn’t even dating him and i had texted and talked constantly. asked him if he loved me. threatened to kill myself if he left. shocker, he cut me off. he had his own issues as well, and i still hate him but that’s not the point. i hate him. despise him. i might kill him if im ever unfortunate enough to see him again.

another guy, i completely broke because i rejected him. we were friends for 3 years. that friendship disappeared in a day. i ghosted him, shunned him. i made an excuse of i wasn’t in the right mental place to date. i was cutting, yeah, but nothing excuses what i did. i tried to reconnect but everything i did made things worse. i’m only good for destroying connections.

another guy i met online, dm’ed him constantly. i always sent my darkest thoughts. 2 years ago, i almost landed him in prison because my dad assumed he was a pedophile. in reality, he only viewed me as someone who needed to escape. he even offered his mom’s phone number if i needed someone else to talk to. i regret everything i did to make him suffer.

i always break relationships. even now. the few people who put up with me are precious, but it always only feels like a matter of time before they leave. i’m surprised one of them didn’t leave the second i hurt him, accused him of talking shit about me (without proof, at that). i still love him dearly as a friend, and am happy i met them.

but look at me, what am i supposed to do? i’m useless. i break relationships. i break people. i destroy myself, and any possible future. i’m smart enough to realize that what i do is jeopardizing any potential success, and yet i choose self destruction anyway for a brief feeling of euphoria.

i want to be able to leave this house. i want to be free of whatever life my dad has planned. but im not sure i ever can. i wish i could live the life i constantly dream of. i wish i was a normal person. i’m so tired of everything.

[phantomoftheorpheum]

i am someone who feels neutral about claire! i don’t like/love her and i don’t dislike/hate her. you’ve hit the nail on the head with something that made me realize why i’m so neutral on her. she’s almost doesn’t feel real?

carmy (& the show as a whole) have this very romanticized view of claire. we are told that they are perfect for each other if carmy could just get his shit together. to me, where the carmy x claire stuff fails is that we simply haven’t experienced them having a lot of chemistry and compatibility in real time. in season 2 we’re just told how sweet they’d be because carmy had a crush on her growing up and she was a family friend. meanwhile, their relationship was portrayed as a negative distraction for carmy’s development of the restaurant. on that note, i do understand people comparing sydney & claire. in season 2, it was an - albeit one-sided battle between claire and the bear/sydney for carmy’s time and attention. sydney and carmy needing to go over menu options but he got too distracted by claire for example.

in season 3, we suddenly get all of these flashbacks of carmy and claire that we never saw originally and it feels a bit like retconning. as if they realized they hadn’t done enough to make us care about their relationship as we should. that’s how it might be perceived anyway. as i’ve seen people say, s2 claire was synonymous with childhood nostalgia but also panic, distraction, and frustration. but s3 claire is supposedly synonymous with peace. it feels like mixed messaging.

i love molly gordon as an actress but claire as a character is kind of just… there. she definitely feels like a place holder. probably to be young carmy’s ideal romantic partner. whether that makes sense thematically for adult carmy? idk. that’s where the confusion comes for me. i’m not sure where the writers are going or what they are ultimately trying to say. i want to have faith but i hope they stick a landing that’s not so dissonant as the carmy x claire relationship has felt so far - whether it ends or not.

Hi, fellow "neutral on Claire" viewer! Sorry this took me a minute to get back to, my internet router went out and it was a whole mess.

I've been thinking a lot about this since I got your ask, and the more I consider it, the more I think I do kinda understand Claire's purpose, even though I remain neutral on her character.

Anyway- yes, I don't think Claire feels real either! Not yet, anyway. And I am totally fine with that in season 2. Not only are we seeing Carmy reconnect with this crush he's had for years, but also it's the got the whole "new relationship" glow about it.

I think the purpose of Claire in season 2 is to show (and honestly in 3, though it's not as in your face specifically with her, but rather with how he has done nothing about what happened between them in the season 2 finale, despite having plenty of time and opportunity) how unbalanced Carmy is, how he doesn't know how to do anything well if he doesn't make that his entire being. In season 2, his relationship with Claire begins to thrive when he mentally and emotionally commits to it, but his relationship with the restaurant (and consequentially everyone there) falls to the wayside, and his behavior skews way too far in one direction.

Then, when he gets overwhelmed, predictably, with things not going well for him at the restaurant because he's been neglecting his responsibilities, he swings ridiculously hard the other direction (avoiding his relationship issues and not even being able to apologize, and becoming incredibly obsessive, over controlling, and dismissive in his work), and I think that is Claire's role in season 3, basically just existing in an unresolved romantic state, to show how, in every way, Carmy's new focus on the restaurant isn't healthy at all. He is too "all or nothing," too single minded.

While we know a few things about Claire, and we've seen a couple of scenes of her not directly through Carmy's POV, she has been a purpose, not a person, so far. And honestly, after thinking about it for a while, I'm okay with that. For now, anyway. Carmy's relationship with Claire is unresolved because Carmy's ability to find balance is completely unresolved. And since season 3 is only half of an arc, I think we need Claire, even if the ultimate resolution of the arc is that Carmy apologizes and they agree to go their separate ways. Claire is important because she is a physical & visual representation of Carmy's ability (or lack thereof) to balance his life, and how things resolve (or don't) with her in the future is a way to measure Carmy's progress (or regression). However, the choice to write season 3 as a "part one" type of deal makes Claire's purpose and role in this season a bit hazy upon first glance. It seems we're only being reminded of her in service of Carmy's arc, and not as a character in her own right. This is another reason I'm not the biggest fan of the structure of season 3 & 4, because season 3 is stuck with 95% of the setup, and barely any payoff, but I do wonder if this will feel better in hindsight when season 3 & 4 can be watched back to back.

If Carmy and Claire get back together in season 4 (or at the end of season 4 and assuming there is a season 5), then, imo, she has to finally become a person, not just a plot device and a symbol. We've seen what the romanticized version of Claire from Carmy's POV is, she's played her role as a casualty of Carmy's dysfunction, but if they resolve that arc with her back in Carmy's life and as a regular presence on the show, then we need to finally see who she is through a realistic lens. Until they either do that, or write her out due to her role being completed, I just don't feel like I have a way to judge Claire for Claire. I can only judge her as a plot device, and for that I think she's been serviceable, if unremarkable.

However, I do see what you're saying about how Claire is set up inherently against Sydney and the restaurant, because Carmy has been unable to split his focus in a healthy way, which means she was (unintentionally) in a tug of war with everything restaurant related. But I also think shipping culture has played a part in a lot of people disliking Claire. She's in the way of a ship that's super popular in the fandom (regardless of the show's intent), and that always comes with consequences. And I can even see how I'd be annoyed about this is if I cared more about romance in The Bear, because I've certainly been there with other shows, and it's hard to like a shallow (not in behavior, but in writing) plot device of a character that is not only in the way of your ship, but actively disrupting even the friendship of those characters. So like, I get it. I just don't have those feelings. And I also think it has caused some people to just flat out be unable to consider Claire's role in the story and Carmy's arc, and judge that for what it is, separate from shipping.

Anyway, I'm pretty open to different ways the show may choose to handle Claire, but I think they do have to choose. There's only so long she can be in the show before it has to make it clear if she exists only to play a role in Carmy's character development, or if she's an actual person with layers and flaws and depth of her own.

Thanks for sharing your thoughts! It really did prompt me to consider Claire's character a bit more, so I appreciate it!

[rabbitenn]

Hii I read your last momo x reader and loved it so if it’s alright, could I request a romantic scenario about momo and the reader who had been an aspiring musician trying their best to reconnect with each other after momo ghosted them when becoming an idol? Maybe they used to date in the past and grew apart after momo discovered Re:Vale. I’m sorry if this is too specific I’m just in need of an angst to fluff😭🤍

RE: CONNECT.

In the end, it was always you and him.

ft. Sunohara Momose x gn! reader.

cw/genre: angst to fluff, romance. alcohol consumption (kids, don’t drink; adults, drink responsibly !).

hey lovely ! thank you sm for requesting and reading my other momo fic, I’m very happy you enjoyed that one <3 and omg don’t apologize, I really like this idea, we all love some good old angst to fluff hehe ~ I hope I managed to write this according to your expectations, dear 🩷 I’m very sorry for the long wait :((

Momo can’t really believe his eyes right now.

Of all places, this night bar was certainly not where he would have expected to find you again.

Not many people fill the worn out tables of the small local, the dimly lit stage casting you in yellow light.

Why were you here of all places?

You belonged in huge arenas, colored lights moving and changing with the notes you strummed on your guitar.

And yet, no matter how small the venue, everyone went silent the moment you started to play, your voice accompanying the melody your fingers strummed.

For the minutes you’re up there, Momo’s mind goes back five years, when he was just a college student with his soccer dreams shattered, and you were there to pick up the pieces, gluing them back together with the notes of your guitar.

He remembers, how you wanted to pursue a career in music… were your dreams scattered to the wind too, the moment he suddenly disappeared on you?

The music stops.

Momo takes a sip of his beer, almost choking on it in the process.

In the half light, your eyes meet.

—

This can’t be happening.

This really cannot be real.

Why now and why here?

Why is Sunohara Momose, your ex, who you have only seen on stage for the last five years, suddenly in front of you?

Well, is he even your ex, seeing how you didn’t exactly properly break up?

He just disappeared one day. No new texts, no new calls, nothing.

You were heartbroken, and really thought something had happened to him. Until one day, you saw Re:vale perform again.

And Momo was there.

You can’t let yourself show vulnerability now, however, so you keep walking towards him.

Why? You don’t really know, you don’t really think, but next thing you know you’re standing in front of him.

“Hey, [Y/n]… long time no see…” Your ex-boyfriend greets, awkwardly.

He hasn’t changed much, and the little differences aren’t new to you either, you’ve been seeing him on tv, on magazines, ads.

Everywhere except by your side.

You still hate yourself a little for thinking how cute he looks with pink on his cheeks, his sharp canines showing through his shy smile.

You loved that about him.

How he could brighten any room with his cheerfulness, but he could also get so bashful.

Maybe you still do love that about him.

Because as much as resentment and bitterness at his ‘disappearance’ found their way into your heart like a poisonous seed, you find yourself shifting back into old ways.

“Too long, hasn’t it?” Is your answer.

Your lips curve up into a sad smile, as you order a drink from a passing waiter, perhaps just to break the awkward silence.

“Yeah…” Momo mumbles, fuchsia eyes looking to the side. His hands tighten around his own beer, knuckles going white. He glances in your direction, just to find you already staring at the floor, not quite knowing how to carry a conversation that’s been put on hold for half a decade.

Your drink arrives. You nurse it for some moments, it’s larger than you had expected… but oh well, you might need the liquid courage anyway if you’re really here, sitting with someone who… well it’s complicated, you don’t know what he is to you right now.

As your lips graze the rim of the glass, Momo can’t help but reminisce in the way he used to feel them on his own, your hands in his hair, his around your waist….

No, he cannot linger on it now.

That’s over.

And it’s his fault.

He notices your guitar case, propped by your side.

“So, you still play?” He ventures. ‘Stupid’, he chides himself afterwards, ‘you’ve heard them play just now.’

However, his statement of the obvious is met with a sweet smile on your part, then shifting into something more woeful.

“Yeah… I do… It’s just… I was never able to… well, succeed…” You hang your head, hair falling in front of your face.

Momo’s eyes widen, either at your confession or at your state, he’s not entirely sure.

Probably at both.

But this isn’t good. He remembers all too clearly what happened the last time you got drunk.

He doesn’t want to see you getting sick again…

So, with a temptative motion, the idol reaches for your glass.

“[Y/n]…” He winces when he utters your name now. Just your name, not the cute pet names he used to come up with for you. “I think you’ve had enough…” Your ex-lover’s hand brushes yours when he tries to retrieve your glass.

“No!” You pout, dragging the drink back towards you.

“Come on, [Y/n], you’ll feel sick afterwards if you keep this up.” Momo tries, brows knitting together in concern.

“Won’t…” You slur, pulling your glass closer towards you, throwing your head back as you down its remaining contents in one go.

This would be a long night.

—

Effectively, after a while, you feel nauseous.

All you can register is the grey concrete of a dim lit street and walls covered in shadow.

And the feel of someone holding your hair back.

Your legs are going to give out from under you… this is bad… wasn’t someone telling you not to drink this much moments ago?

You should have listened.

Where is he now?

“Momo…” You mumble weakly, as you feel your vision going dark and all strength leaving you.

You never hit the floor.

Arms that used to hold you every night support you, your face against a shoulder that feels warm and comforting…

Maybe you’re delirious, or maybe you’d been longing for this feeling for too many years.

“Missed you…” Are your last words before your consciousness abandons you.

“Rest now, baby…” Momo whispers, a tinge of sadness in his voice, in his smile, as he hooks one arm under your knees, the other, around your shoulders.

—

You come to on a bed that feels both familiar and unknown.

Daylight pricks painfully against your bleary eyes the moment you push your covers away.

This t-shirt… you don’t remember having worn it in so long… You just know it belongs to someone you used to love, the print on its front from a band you used to listen to.

“Good that you’re awake…” A familiar voice utters nearby, its tone soft and full of concern.

A gasp leaves your lips when your eyes meet vibrant pink irises.

You suddenly sit up straight, pulling the covers closer around you.

You bring a hand to your head, the abrupt move clearly not good for your hangover.

“M-Momo?” You ask, as you look around and realize that, yes, this is, in fact, not your house.

“Good morning.” He smiles awkwardly, those damned small fangs too cute. “You… uh… were pretty drunk last night…”

Heat rises to your cheeks as memories of the pub come back to you, the too-big-beer and the fact you didn’t drink often, a deadly combination.

“I’m sorry for imposing.” You say, going to get up, realizing you’re not wearing any pants, the oversized t-shirt stopping just where your thighs begin. “I… where are my clothes?”

“I washed them, they should be dry by now.” Your host explains.

Wow, he went and washed them and all, when you know how he isn’t the best at keeping up with laundry.

“Uh… could you… bring them… I’m going to get changed and leave.”

“Are you sure you feel okay?” Those puppy eyes and that tone. They almost make you reconsider.

“I shouldn’t be here to begin with.” You let out. Then you click your tongue at yourself, realizing how ungrateful your statement sounded. “I mean, thank you for having cared for me, but I’ve caused you enough trouble.”

Your ex’s expression darkens, as he turns on his heel, retrieving your clothes from the bathroom.

You get dressed in a rush, pick up your belongings, and are out of his doorstep before things can get more awkward.

Momo stays there, back leaning against the door you just closed between you, wondering, is there a second chance for you two?

What he doesn’t know yet is that you’ll come knocking on his door soon enough.

You find out as soon as you get to your apartment complex, though, the elevator mirror showing back an oversized t-shirt that’s definitely not yours.

—

Why are you wearing your best clothes, and why are you fussing over whether your hair looks good enough and your makeup is alright, you can’t fully understand.

This is not some date, and even if it was, or rather, back when it could have been, it’s not like he hasn’t seen you with no makeup, sweats and messy hair.

You take a deep breath, before ringing his doorbell, hands clinging to the bag that contains the reason for this visit.

“Yeah? Who is it?” His voice comes from the other side of the intercom, and the stupid thought of wondering if you look decent through its camera crosses your mind.

You clear your throat.

“It’s me. I… I forgot to return something to you the other day…”

A sound announcing the door’s opening accompanies his “Of course, come in.”

You can imagine his tender smile just by hearing his voice.

No, you have to focus. You’re here to return his t-shirt, thank him for the other night, and then, leave.

You can’t let your heart fool you again, five years of solitude should have been enough for the moral of this story.

You can’t help but smooth your hair as your heartbeat quickens while the elevator goes up, and up, and maybe you wish it’d never stop.

But finally, this limbo suspended in mid-air stops, the doors opening with a ‘ding’, the door to his apartment already open.

“Hey.” Momo greets you, white hoodie and black sweats on, as his hand fiddles with the door handle, the bright azalea petals contained in his stare slowly falling to the ground as his gaze casts downward.

This expression… you remember memories archived in now yellowing pages, when your lips used to graze his cheek; words of praise for him, the lyrics to the love song you composed with the compliments you showered him in.

“Hi.” You breathe out, biting your lower lip, eyes averted to the side.

A few seconds of heavy silence pass, too many things you wish you could say now; too many years you’d like to have had by his side; too many things he wishes he could do differently now.

You shake your head, mustering a smile.

You realize it’s genuine, that you’re truly happy to be standing in front of him right now, right here, even if things can’t really go back to the way they used to be.

“This is yours.” You offer him the bag. “I left with it by accident the other day… I wanted to thank you for taking care of me that night too…”

The idol takes the package from you, surprise palpable in the way his gaze widens.

“Well, I’ll be on my w-“

“Would you like to come in?”

You two question at the same time.

You give him a sad smile.

“Momo I shouldn’t…”

“Please…” He practically begs you, like he used to ask for ‘one more!’ whenever you played songs for him on your guitar, under starry summer skies. “I- I need to tell you something! We- I want to talk to you…”

“Momo.” You call him, a bit stern. “You had five whole years to reach out…” You inhale deeply. “If it could wait that long then it’s not important, is it?”

“It is!” He goes to reach for you, but stops himself.

You won’t look at him.

Weren’t you happy a minute ago to be here? With him?

So why? Why do you pull away now?

“Please, [Y/n]… I- I was stupid, okay? When I joined Yuki and formed the new Re:vale… I wanted to do my best for him, in five years… And in so, I ended up neglecting you. I don’t know why I acted that way, I can’t understand why I let us drift apart… So please, let me fix it?”

You don’t know if it’s his words, the desperation his tone carries, or his pleading eyes, but you really can’t hold half a decade of pent-up emotions anymore.

“You idiot…” You mumble, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? You just… might as well have vanished. Until I saw you on tv one day, and I knew you were okay…”

Arms that stopped your freefall just the other night wrap around you, rivers of lost time streaming down your cheeks, dewdrops of regret on his lashes.

“What are we, Momo?” You ask, voice a quivering crystal thread, holding on on sheer will power and a heart that never really stopped being his.

“Why don’t we find out again, baby?” Comes his reply, his term of endearment for you managing to curl your lips into a nostalgic smile. “[Y/n]? Go on a date with me?” Is the temptative question he utters in the privacy of just you and him.

With your face burrowed into his shoulder, and his fresh and musky scent surrounding you in new morning light, you know this is a one-answer question.

“I’d love that.” You say, as his hands cup your face, thumbing away your tears.

Your lips still won’t touch again.

But the night is young.

And many more will come after this one.

And for now, that is enough.

[stronghours]

Nice Nurses

Clay could recite to the thread what he’d worn that early-summer brunch at Roscoe’s apartment; the loose, worn cords that were so easy to pull up his legs one-handed with the nice button that behaved in the cute little pants-slot (button eye? Hole, simple-pat? Jules would know, but he hadn’t met Jules just yet, if details were the thing). The cords were light green. Over this, he wore an oversized t-shirt, grey, one he could pull over his head without a battle, and over that a very long-sleeved chambray shirt he did not button because he enjoyed when it billowed behind his underarms. It made him feel like a famous painter, and nothing untoward showed to upset anyone. A recitation by rote and not of recollection, as Clay hadn’t found the need to recollect much for twenty-five years. Why bother, when it was such a pretty May Day, and the sidewalks were beginning to stay warm, and a robin plumped over there, in that very shrub?

And a soiree! How fun! Phil of all people opened the door for him. Strange, since Roscoe was quite host-y about these matters. “Here we are,” Phil said, with his standard dissected warmth. “Now the party’s started.”

“Darling,” said Clay Carrell, “I hope if already has.”

“And fashionably late, too.”

“I arrive, exactly as I have always arrived, when I intend to.”

He took a turn around the front room, received his acknowledgements and the few respectful touches or kisses some guests felt fit to grant him. He breezed by the goody table (it wasn’t nice manners to show undue interest in the food, directly after your entrance) and treated himself to a peep out the window. Roscoe did not have curtains to sensuously fling aside, a pity. Roscoe!

“Where, now?” He asked Bo G., who unlike others, solidly clapped Clay’s trim shoulder.

“He’s in the damn kitchen.” Bo G. understood him perfectly. “With that damn kid.”

Clay knew, theoretically, about the presence of a damn kid, but memory lay in the eye of the beholder and Clay had never managed to see him. He’d heard bizarre rumors Roscoe kept him stuffed in the shop basement; Clay thought that was a senseless place to store a child. Knowing now he must see at last, off he swanned to the kitchen entryway toward the damp clatter and crash of soapy dishware. He rapped the doorframe smartly. “Now you,” he said, “you, who did not answer your own door! I see you now!”

“Oh Clay,” Roscoe half-turned, smiled vaguely, and held up his bubbling hands. “That’s Clay,” he said to the long, young creature beside him who dangled on a tall stool. It didn’t answer. Clay thought that was only fair, as half the child’s face was a healing fog of yellows and burgundies and eggplant, all in evil gradients, descending from a half-swollen blue-skinned eye before dispersing and reconnecting among a strip of unbecoming, hairy stitches encrusted smack in the middle of the cheek. It could hardly have hurt to tape some nice white gauze over it, but not everyone knew the niceties of Gloria Vanderbilt as well as Clay.

“Clay,” Roscoe continued in the solid, directorial voice he affected whenever Clay was in the room, “Clay, this is Jules. I don’t think you two have run into each other.”

“I am so incredibly charmed,” Clay said. He noticed right away that Jules was looking down, with a teenager’s cruel intent, to work out if Clay’s squashy white shoes truly fastened together with Velcro.  “Hideous whispers informed me you were stuck in a basement somewhere. I’m so glad you’re not; people belong aboveground.”

Titters in the room behind Clay. The events could have been connected; he was a witty person. “I can see you’re being very helpful to our lovely man – that’s fine, Roscoe works too hard to arrange the fun then misses out on it.” He scanned automatically over the child’s hands, which were long and battered, adolescently screwboned. He didn’t store them awkwardly like other wallflowers.

Clay felt keen, momentarily. “What do you play?”

The child’s one fully open eye was merely surface-bright and dark and blank. “Piano,” he said. He talked out one side of his mouth and his teeth didn’t show when he spoke.

“You do?” Roscoe was surprised. Their acquaintance was, apparently, short.

Clay dandled his stronger hand in front of his chest. “No-no,” he clarified, “you play?”

“Instruments,” Roscoe tried.

“Cards, my darling.”

“Oh.” The child – J name, Clay would need to hear it a few more times before it could be swallowed – cupped his hands and touched his thumbs together, the poor form of shuffling. “Right. I play.”

“What’s your special?”

“Anything.”

“How did you learn?”

“Old people.”

Clay, delighted, clapped his stronger palm against his weak knuckles. “Marvelous,” he declared. “They’re the best teachers because they’ve played so long – and so sour about it! I bet you have superior attention span to other babies your age. I bet you could play me right now. Roscoe?”

The little foundling looked to Roscoe. Either through injury or through stupidity, his face didn’t appear to express much.

“Sure, you should go and play if you want to play,” Roscoe encouraged. “I got it covered here.”

Clay always made sure he had large pockets, and he always carried a pack on him if suspected a social situation. He steered the child through the crowd out front – everybody seemed to be looking their way with one big grin – directly to the tiny second room and gestured for the magazines to be cleared off one of the end tables. “And pull up that little chair for your young bones,” he bossed. “And I will sit on the couch, and then we will play Gin Rummy – consider this your audition.”

Two men sharing the same chair in the corner yelped together. “Don’t let Frank hear you saying that, Clay!”

“Leave Frank to me.” Clay dismissed them all and cut the deck one handed. He braced his other wrist as firmly as he could against the table, to use it as a base to shuffle against. At this point, those who didn’t know Clay generally said please, I can do that for you! But this one just stared at the feat.

“Now.” Clay settled in after he served out two shares of ten and established the discard. “You must remind me of your name again, and then you may draw first, seeing as you’re brand new.”

“Jules,” said Jules. He drew and then discarded an ace of hearts, which Clay’s brain filed away of its own accord, along with the name as well, if he was lucky.

Clay graciously helped himself through three rounds of passive, plodding gameplay on Jules’ part. He appeared to be thinking merely through muscle memory and allowed Clay to initiate the knocks. Several times he failed to spot where his deadwood coincided with Clay’s melds, requiring a sporting nudge of the shoe on Clay’s part, who briefly worried, after three Gins, that despite the automatic nature of his play, the boy was a little stupid after all. Then he looked round and noticed three other gentlemen had thronged alongside the two on the chair and were absorbing the proceedings quite immodestly – a relief, the only problem at present being the teenage disease of self-consciousness.

“For goodness sakes.” Clay snapped his fingers, a rudeness he did not like to resort to. “If you please?”

The attention dispersed and they continued.

“You can’t mind people when they don’t even know what we’re doing,” Clay suggested.

“I can do whatever I want,” Jules muttered, rude enough. Clay wondered if he was in pain. He was playing one-handed himself, insistently rubbing the unblotted side of his jaw, and he kept jerking his chin apropos to nothing. Whenever a partygoer wandered into the room all these tics would halt for a time, before forcibly sputtering through his body to reignite the cycle. The agitation made him more aggressive in play, and Clay gradually realized he had (pardon his French) a real bitch on his hands. Frank’s opinion be damned – he’d get along just fine.

Now he just needed an opening to extend the invitation, but Clay was not much of a talker in play, and Jules seemed to mirror him. Roscoe wandered in with two orange juice glasses, the dearheart, and being the sensitive kind, left without pestering – minus a small jab at Clay. “You’re not wearing your bracelet,” he scolded.

“It’s ugly,” Clay explained. “Now, you can see we’re busy.”

Roscoe put a brief hand to Jules’ shoulder, who only looked up when he departed. He peered with sudden plaintiveness past Clay’s shoulder, then downward, spotting a folded napkin Roscoe had placed beside his cards. His face absented itself again. Without an expression, the wounds on his face became ghastlier and stood out sharply, deeply nuzzled as they were in winter-sallow skin, teenage skin or no. It was difficult to tell if, after healing, he would be pretty or ugly.

“You came to us very suddenly, I hear,” Clay said.

“I don’t want to know what you heard.” Jules spoke decisively through pink teeth and put the napkin to the corner of his mouth because he was, Clay finally noticed, bleeding. Clay discarded this data as a distraction.

“You’re a lucky little boy,” Clay continued, as Jules’ eyes revolved nastily around the room. “Roscoe is a very nice person. I myself am part of a very exclusive club, that could benefit you socially.”

“Oh, thure.”

“Oh, yeth. Did your old people teach you how to play bridge?”

“Hell,” Jules said. “Since, like, ten? Whatever.” He sipped from the orange juice, pulled an awful, squint-eyed face, and shook his head very slowly. The rim of the glass came away red and slimy and he was reluctant to swallow. “My gran had her old ladies, and I had to round out the play. My boyfriend’s mom played too –” It took him forever, in this state, to spit out the words and without the scaffold of cardplay, Clay had to mentally sweat to grasp the information. “– But he didn’t like me to play with her.”

“Who?”

“My boyfriend didn’t like –”

“Oh, forget him.” Clay waved away all these superfluous people. “I won’t allow almost ten years of experience to be sneezed at.”

He laid out the parameters of the card club to Jules, who rested the unharmed side of his face against balled knuckles and appeared to doze right through it. “They won’t like it,” he murmured, after Clay outlined the sparkling personalities of Frank F., Bo G. (introduced) and numerous others. “They’ll say I’m too young. And I’m tired of old people.”

“But you’re used to them.” Clay, a smooth fifty-five, considered himself a world apart from Frank and Bo.

“I’m doing stuff for Roscoe. I need to find a real job, too.”

“We meet multiple times a week – we have many people to satisfy!”

Jules’ slit eyes popped wide. He gradually lifted himself from his worn slouch. Clay noted Phil’s dour presence piercing his shoulder, and a bowl of pretzels placed sacrilegiously over the discard pile. “Give it up,” Phil said, in his never-ending mildness – amused by everything, and happy about none of it. “Bo already knows what you’re up to with our battered bride. He told me Frank’s gonna rip you a new one after he tattles.”

“Frank can’t rip his own farts,” Clay said. “He suffered chilblains in his youth.”

“I’ll tell him that for you and save you the trouble.”

“A number of people would!” Quite a few in fact, following Phil’s scalpel-edged lead, had taken the second room for open and were dousing it in separate conversations. Jules sat far back in his seat as if to observe, but Phil was the only one he kept his healthy eye on.

“Who’s winning?” Phil directed the question to Clay but put a hand against Jules’ spine and squeezed snappily. Jules twisted away.

“I am,” Clay said, modestly as possible. “But I have many unfair advantages. I’m on the home team. And being as I’m vice-president of the club –”

Jules worked his jaw until it clicked. His hand jerked toward his chin, but he caught himself and fished for the pretzels instead, which he gnawed on uneasily. The color he’d possessed, unattractive as it had been, had drained from his face leaving him claylike and nervous.

 “–With all privileges,” Clay continued, “afforded to me thereof, regarding membership –” 

Jules gagged – an abrupt and distinctly un-partylike sound that silenced the room in an instant – and as easily as if he were part of the organic conversation occurring between Clay and Phil, he sat forward and ejected a neat spout of blood from his mouth, dirtying the juice and the cards, and overtop all this he spat and scattered a single sharp dirty pearl of a tooth.

The blood put pause deep in Clay’s gut, but, he noted, the color returned rapidly to Jules’ face, a vast improvement too; his body must have been relieved to rid itself of the little nag. The boy automatically wiped his speckled chin, but he’d already put his fingers through the mess on the table. He couldn’t take his eyes off the tooth. Neither could Phil.

“I believe we need a napkin,” Clay said to the room at large – certainly everybody could look, but nobody would do! The problem of crowds. Phil stepped back. He smiled, for whatever mysterious reason people behaved untowardly in odd social situations.

Jules simply got up, his hand politely clasped over his gushing mouth, and calmly left the room as though he’d been called away.

“For goodness sakes.” Clay followed suit; He had the vague inclination he must find Roscoe, to play mother. He left the cards and dental trash for others to sort – people had a bad habit of tidying up after him.

Once, a stranger’s voice floated up behind, I knew a guy who told me it was better the less teeth they had –

“Shut up Louis,” Phil’s voice responded, uncommonly hard. “I’m tired of hearing about what you’ve been told.”

-

“He’s too young!” Frank F. barked.

“I’m young – almost the youngest one here.” Clay sipped his coffee, which he didn’t like, but drank during card meetings for conviviality. It was important to belong to the group. “And an injection of youth and energy could be what we, as a gathering, have been yearning for.”

Frank glared around the folding table, at anybody on the committee who had dared to yearn without disclosing the fact. “Well?” He demanded. “Who’s found our energy wanting?”

“We’ve been in odd numbers for two months,” Alan M. helpfully pointed out. “Bo doesn’t have a partner, since Gregory.”

“Gregory. Right there.” Frank pointed. “Started here in his sixties, unretired, and I had my doubts – too young!”

“For god’s sake Frank,” Clay said. “The man dropped dead.”

“He couldn’t handle the stress.”

“Cease with Gregory,” Alan (sixties) requested, rubbing his chest anxiously. “Gives me the creeps.”

“I’ve never set eyes on this fabled kid,” Frank said. “Just how young is he?”

Clay, who had pumped Roscoe for information, drew this one out, for his own pleasure. Everybody leaned forward.

“Oh,” he said, with delicacy. “Around, say, nineteen or so.”

Frank bashed the table with his fist. “There!” He roared. “Too young!”

“A very new nineteen, at that – at least Roscoe says so.”

Frank F., overwhelmed with passion, got up and left the room to do something loud and rackety in the kitchen. Clay sat back and basked while everybody fought it out, not worried a jot. Committee days were so stimulating.

“Young is one thing, Clay,” said Alan, conveniently as Frank returned to the table. “A teenager is a whole other thing.”

“Half a thing,” Frank declared.

“He’ll have to be working,” Bo G. said. "He'll be hopping jobs. No consistent schedule."

“He’s going to get his first fucking boyfriend,” Frank added, “and the second that happens – goodbye, card club!”

“Oh, he’s already had a boyfriend.” Clay had no idea how he knew this – maybe he was lying. “And he’s not bound to get another for a while – I saw him at Roscoe’s brunch, and he looks very ugly.”

Frank turned to Bo. “He’s ugly?” He demanded.

Bo G., perhaps taking his own pleasure, took a long time to put his coffee down. “I saw him at Roscoe’s too. He’s not ugly. Somebody just worked his face over damn good.”

Frank jabbed his finger at Clay. “He’s going to heal up,” he predicted. “And bam – a boyfriend!”

“Who worked him over?” Alan asked, alarmed. “Somebody here?”

The facts, from Roscoe, were few enough, but Clay had written them down to assist his memory. He took out his little spiral pad. “Not here,” he soothed. “He arrived – approximately a month ago – from Indiana – probably nineteen –”

“Probably?”

“The bad thing happened; no Alan, I don’t know who – and voila – arrives at Roscoe’s. Who is kind enough, mind you, to lend a helping hand to a helpless, ugly urchin.”

“If Roscoe had any damn brains,” Bo said, “he’d find some understanding lady or a dyke, so he could work out these fatherly instincts in a less disruptive way.”

“Dykes want to keep their own babies – they’re the ones looking at us gents.”

“That’s what Martin did,” Bo said, pulling the empty mugs together into a friendly group at the center of the table. “Got pinned by some girl, not long after Val died, remember. What, ’88? – he’d carry this stacked blonde girl in with him from New York, when he came to visit Roscoe and Phil. Knocked her up and had to follow her to San Francisco.”

“Who?” Clay asked politely.

“Nobody expects you to remember important things,” Frank snapped. Such a shot, in mixed company, would have inspired somebody to scold Frank, but in the confines of the card committee, Clay was left to fend for himself, which was bliss – for Clay, polite, socially able, a smart dresser, a knower of vocab and etiquette, and demon card shark, was also tough. Most people had forgotten.

“His grandmother taught him to play when he was ten,” Clay announced. “He’s been playing as part of a group for years. Among other games, if we’d like him for our mixed open house – I played a two-on-two with him at Roscoe’s brunch before disaster struck, and he’s perfectly teachable. The groundwork is all there.”

“Disaster?” Frank was no dummy, unfortunately.

“Oh.” Clay flapped his hand at the inconvenient details. “Nothing. He lost a tooth and was mortified.”

“He’s still losing his baby teeth. It’s going to look like an elementary school in here.”

He spoke like a man who’d already made his decision. Everybody hopped on the ball, but Frank held them in suspense. He gave the floor to Bo.

“Considering,” he said, “You’re the one short a partner. This is an egalitarian club.”

Clay, who’d known from the start he would win, let his attention drift. Bo G., maybe unaware yet of the victory, worked it out to himself. He turned to Clay. “He’s not a complete dumbass, is he?”

“Haven’t the slightest.”

“Oh, go to hell.” Bo stood up and gathered up the bouquet of mugs. “Let the kid in. Let’s see what happens.”

“What,” Alan suggested, “would Gregory say about being replaced by a nineteen-year-old?”

“The problem with death is that’s it’s boring,” Bo G. mumbled to himself, as he stumped toward the kitchen. “Jesus Frank, what did you do in here?”

“I love egalitarianism,” Clay chirped. “It always seems to mean I win.”

Frank F. rubbed his spotted temples. “Clay,” he requested, “just shut the hell up.”

-

Months along, Clay Carrell tripped down a burning sunny sidewalk on his way somewhere – to Roscoe, maybe – it was a beautiful day again and he needed no reason to be out and about, as an independent man.

He passed by a line of parking jobs and as curiosity merited, he peeped into the windows until coming upon a mouse-colored car that still contained its driver. Clay peeked closer and to his delight, recognized Jules, even though his face was turned away and resting on his folded arms against the steering wheel.

Clay rapped the window. Jules jumped and shouted, saw Clay, and slouched back against the seat. The window buzzed.

“Don’t scare me, oh my god.”

“You’re a silly child,” Clay pronounced. “Because there’s nothing to be frightened of. Where are you going?”

Jules glanced around him, as if surprised to find he was still in the car. “I don’t know,” he said. “Somewhere, I guess.”

“Well, you’re in luck. I don’t know where I’m going either.” Clay trotted around to the passenger seat and helped himself inside – the door was unlocked. “You should secure that if you’re just going to loiter,” Clay said. “Any stranger could help themselves inside and do away with you.”

“You just said there’s nothing to be scared of.”

“You should always obey your instincts,” Clay advised. He buckled his seatbelt. “One of the first things I was taught, on independent living, was to lock the door behind me. I put a sticky-note on the wall to remind me, for that very purpose. Naturally I don’t need that anymore. Now, let’s be off.”

“Where?”

Irritated by this passiveness, Clay swept his hand at the potted road. Endless possibilities! Jules turned the key, and off they popped. What a relief, Clay thought, to be moving somewhere faster than usual. He checked the sun, saw they were heading vaguely west, and that was enough for him, context-wise. He settled back to let the young people do the work.

Jules, for his part, looked mildly amused, his usual expression around Clay. Driving a car, he looked more relaxed than Clay had ever seen. His face, a few months down the line, had healed in fits and starts, and now struggled to throw off the scrubby laceration on one cheek, and a stubborn blackened crescent hung on the bone underneath the eye. To the disappointment of the committee, Jules was not ugly – when the swelling cooled off, he was a fine-faced youth with a hawk nose braced by huge, dark eyes that were at turns combative or entirely closed away. He had black, vainly tousled hair and what Alan called an intriguing mouth before Frank told him to shut the hell up.

To everybody’s relief, these physical positives were usually obliterated by Jules’ general sourness, a bad attitude that occasionally banana-rotted into downright childishness. This was not a problem in the club, where squabbling was half the reason for arriving. The first significant interaction he provoked with Bo G. was a fight about Bo bringing up, too much in their first partnered scrimmage, what Gregory would have done in that scenario.

“I’m just saying,” Bo had said, “that Greg wouldn’t have overpromised on that bid, especially if he was aware he was a stranger in a new situation –”

“Go dig him up,” Jules suggested, “and see what bid you’ll get out of him now, asshole.”

Clay, in the present, snooped through a collection of CD cases hidden in the door’s side pocket. “Oh my,” he said. “Throbbing Gristle. Sounds disgusting. What is it?”

“Put it in and see.”

Clay did; He sat for several minutes through a groaning, desexed voice with a foreign accent working out some struggling words overtop an auditory ambiance of what Clay thought resembled seasick trains.

“How interesting,” Clay said. “It makes me feel ill.”

“That’s what it’s supposed to do.”

“I suppose nowadays bands function in all sorts of interesting ways.”

“They’re not nowadays, they’re from the seventies.” Jules, ignorant in many ways, still felt perfectly free to get snippy and rude with Clay. “They did this song,” he explained, “they did this one song based on this letter this mail-artist did from back then, about working in a burn unit.”

Clay felt the need to check for the sun’s location. “Really now?” He said politely.

“Yeah, about this woman in there who was burned so badly she couldn’t sleep. From the waist up she was like, just meat. She had no ears or nose or eyes, it was that bad. But they had to keep her alive.”

“Ah,” Clay understood. “Like me.”

Jules shut up – a rare feat – and Clay stared out at rushing traffic, wondering where everybody needed to be in such a damn hurry. He was curious to see if Roscoe had attempted, in his appropriate way, to fill Jules in. Apparently not.

“Uh,” Jules said. He flicked his eyes from the road and flashed them, with obligatory understanding across Clay’s weak, folded arm. “Sorry?”

“Oh hush,” Clay dismissed. “You couldn’t know.”

“I kind of just thought you were paralyzed for some reason,” Jules continued brashly, to Clay’s relief.

“I certainly am,” Clay confirmed. “Paralyzed. And disfigured! It’s very ugly.”

“Your hand looks regular, just kind of little.”

“I was involved, incidentally, within a grease fire. A freak accident. The muscles shrank. The rest of the arm isn’t regular,” Clay said. “Nor the shoulder it connects to, or part of my chest and stomach. I try to be sensitive to the – the sensitivities of onlookers.”

“Can I see?”

Clay pierced him with a pretty decent look. “Darling,” he said. “Use your brains.”

Stopped at a red light, Jules could turn his head and bare his teeth in the approximation of a happy grin. His teeth, bless him, were getting awful scarecrow on one side. “It looks bad, right?” Jules asked.

“I suppose some don’t care about ugliness.” Clay turned to the CD library in his lap. “Cannibal Corpse,” he observed. The cover was so lurid he had to flip it over. “Good lord. Were you raised in a whorehouse?”

“In a regular house,” Jules said. “So, worse.”

Because it made sense, Clay insisted they stop for lunch at his absolute favorite restaurant, Panera Bread. They were on an interstate at this point, and Jules had to flip around on the exits to get them there. “I don’t really have much money,” he said.

“What a coincidence, neither do I.”

They went halfsies on one meal. They both shared weak appetites and lanky, girlish figures.

“I want to ask you a question,” Jules said.

Clay assented; how novel.

“What do you think about Phil?”

Clay wondered if the privacy of the booth was affecting him. It had been so long since he’d been asked for his opinion, outside of the context of cardplay or his health, that he completely forgot the question. “Pardon?”

Jules repeated himself patiently.

“I suppose I’ve known him for years,” Clay said. “The same way I’ve known Roscoe for years. He’s not exactly a man you have opinions on – he doesn’t share himself well.”

Jules dissected his half of the sandwich. He didn’t appear put out by the lack of information.

“Why do you want to know, dear?”

“He talks to me sometimes.”

“Well, that’s only polite. He’s around.”

“He’ll go out of his way to talk to me,” Jules clarified. “Kind of in a different way than other guys. And I want to talk to him back, which doesn’t really happen with anyone else. Except Roscoe sometimes.”

“Then there you have it.”

“But it’s different than with Roscoe.”

“Why?”

This question was beyond Jules’ capabilities. “I don’t know,” he said, and looked straight at Clay, hiding nothing. For the first time since Roscoe’s brunch, Clay saw he really was nothing more than a helpless, untrained child. Others might have been alarmed at him playing chauffeur.

“And then,” Jules continued, “he’ll stop talking to me for a long time. I’ll try and he’ll ignore me. And I don’t get why it bothers me. I don’t know if I even like him.”

“I don’t think you could like him,” Clay said. “Not in any significant way. He’s vulpine – you’re equine.”

“I’m what?”

Clay trotted the salt and pepper shakers across the tabletop. “Have you never seen the Kentucky Derby?” He asked. “And observed all the pretty horses? How they stamp their feet beforehand and toss their beautiful manes, when after all, there can be only one winner, draped with roses? Not only have we trained them to want to compete, we’ve taught them the difference between winning and losing. They’ll suffer forever, knowing the reality of competition – and they want it, despite the cruel reality of only one getting ahead, all the others left behind. Equine. That’s you.”

“I’m born to suffer.” For someone with such an egregious taste in music, he seemed put out by the prospect.

“You’re an aggressive competitor,” Clay explained. He knew enough from the club. “You seek out games to win. Losing fuels your spirit even more than a win might. Phil avoids other people’s games – I can’t tell you how many invitations he’s received to the miscellaneous open-house – but he’ll slink behind other people’s finish lines all the same. Just to see how they act when he’s spotted. If he chooses to be. Vulpine.” Clay had looked this up in the dictionary – it was defined in one of his many spiral notebooks. “Foxy, darling. Of sneaky temperament.”

“I know what it means,” Jules whined. “I’m sneaky.”

“You are a mean little pony who spits out his sugar,” Clay said. “That does not a fox make, my dear.”

“You’re mean,” Jules sulked.

“It goes so often unobserved in me,” Clay agreed. “Because I’m most beloved and well taken care of. But that means I’ve been stuck in the stable for years – hellish.”

“You’re not in the stable,” Jules, ignorant, insisted. “You’re right here with me.”

“Wait and see,” Clay said. “Just wait.”

-

A problem of Clay’s existence was his inability to seek people out. Certainly, he could come across people in the bounds of everyday back-and-forth – he could spot someone at a gathering, or loiter, in acceptable places, where others were known to loiter. But if someone didn’t want to be found, Clay could not find them. He had limited addresses, phone numbers, emails. Computers frightened him. He had no end of ways to get ahold of Roscoe – they were all pasted up on Clay’s refrigerator, and an ugly collage they made, too.

Weeks, and months, slipped by, and Clay, even with the aid of his notes, lost why he’d been interested in speaking to Phil in the first place. The memo in his social calendar read 8/19/2006 – Jules in car at PB, talk of Phil – it signified nothing, except that Clay truly hated his handwriting. He was glad he hadn’t written more. He could have shown Jules and asked for clarification, but there were certain facts Jules didn’t need to be aware of yet. And Roscoe, if deputized, might tattletale and turn the boy against him, and just when he and Bo G. were starting to find a rapport not based on conflict.

Around Halloweentime, in fact, he overheard the most bizarre and intimate conversation between the two.

It had occurred during a rubber open play in Frank’s basement. Clay had no details, except that Jules had shown up for a couple weeks peaked and pale. His face, other than that, was of normal color, but forebodingly swollen around the nose and eyes. Clay thought he’d been coming down with something. Frank agreed and threatened to send him home – he’d been playing without ardor anyway. Jules hadn’t fought, for once – Bo G., of all people, ordered him to stay.

Clay had gone upstairs to freshen his seltzer. The screen to the patio was unguarded, and the kitchen was cool and buffeted. He saw Jules and Bo outside on the little concrete stamp, dashed overhead by a browning tree as they guarded their cigarettes from the wind. It was spooky – Clay hadn’t noticed them leaving the basement, and he briefly entertained the possibility of two copies of each body – one pair outside, one pair stashed underground.

He plastered himself against the wall, obeying the twitching muscle of an instinct he could no longer attach to a situation. He waited.

Jules spoke first. “I think Harper knows.”

“Did you tell him?” Bo G.

“No. I think he guessed.” The wind carried inside a crusty leaf and some mentholated air. “He says I should tell.”

Bo snorted, forcefully. “What does he know?”

“He says it’ll happen again if I don’t.”

“Maybe it will. You’ll never know. It’ll be to someone else.”

Jules had no answer to that.

“It’ll be someone else,” Bo said. “It’s done. You got it over with – think of it like that. You know what you need to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“You put it away,” Bo said. “You take it in your hands, and you put it away, and you shut the lid. You don’t look at it ever again. It only has to happen to you once. You did that part. That’s all you’re obligated to survive, that – the initial experience of it. Thinking it over – that’s the stuff that’ll kill you. You know what’ll happen if you think it over?”

Jules had yet to think of an answer.

“It’ll happen again,” Bo said. “To you. Again, and again. You’ll arrange the situations. You’ll put yourself in them, without knowing…”

Clay watched some crumbs of ash light across the kitchen, but by the time they reached the stove they’d cooled.

“Have you seen him again?” Bo demanded to know. He sounded angry, for reasons Clay could not possibly discern.

“I’ll always see him. I can’t not. He’s around.”

“For christ’s sake.”

“Do you know who I’m talking about?” Jules was beginning to sound shrill. “Do you know?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me.”

Sniffle, sniffle, clack. Somebody’s lighter flared up and died.

“I know this isn’t easy to hear.” It was odd to hear Bo G. attempt to behave gently. “Don’t think I don’t know. I understand.”

“Shut up. You don’t want to hear about me. I don’t want to hear about you. I don’t care what happened to you. Fuck what happened to you.”

“I know because I’m older than you –”

“You don’t know anything!” The sentence began loudly, and ended in a crazed whisper, as if Jules had realized too late they weren’t in total privacy. “You don’t know anything because you’re older! You’re all so fucking old and useless. I fucking hate all of you.”

“Jules –”

“You’re all so fucking old and stupid and miserable and alone and I hate all of you.” The hacked whisper began dissolving damply halfway through.

“Don’t start crying,” Bo ordered. “You can’t cry about this.”

“I can do whatever I want.”

Jules’ voice, crying, was about as ugly as his injured face had been, but Clay was already having trouble recalling it. Drawing – now there was a talent. Writing, frankly, sucked.

“You can’t do whatever you want.” Bo’s voice shifted, as he moved presumably closer to Jules. He sounded lost. He sounded like he was repeating some unlikeable stranger. “You have to be a man about this.”

“I’m not a man. That’s why it happened.”

“You are a man. You’re a man. If someone tries to push you around like that again, you have to stand up for yourself. You can’t wait until it’s too late – do you want to end up like Clay? Okay – Here – a little bit longer.”

Jules, crying, sounded like a little cat trying to throw up.

“Get it out,” Bo counseled. “Get it all out, then put it away. You don’t have to think about it again.”

“I made a mistake,” Jules sobbed. “It’s my fault.”

“It was an accident. Accidents happen.”

“I thought he liked me.”

“Accidents happen,” Bo repeated. He appeared stuck on it. “Accidents happen. They happen. You’re too young to know any better.”

“I thought he liked me.”

Clay took all this, and his empty glass, back down the stairs. He collided with Frank at the bottom.

“Don’t tell me he’s being sick up there,” Frank grouched.

“Nobody’s sick.” Clay pressed him back toward the tables. “He’s been a little stressed about work,” he explained. “Let Bo handle it.”

Lying was a treat he could rarely indulge in. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done it. He could only guess if it had done any good – but that’s not where the pleasure was.

-

Christmastimes – happy times. And no snow yet! A shame. Clay wrote NO SNOW on his big calendar on the wall. He’d been getting hung up on details lately, when normally, he did not sweat the small stuff.

Wanting to be helpful in the spirit of the season (he made lovely cards, but true presents were rarely affordable) Clay found himself in the shop basement with Roscoe, sorting through the endless memorabilia through the years. Jules was present too, working, if lazily, at a little sloped desk with a harsh, bendable lamp clamped on one edge. He was doing strange things to two pieces of smelly rubber. A sharp alcohol stink pricked Clay’s head. He found himself getting snippy by turns, and, feeling bad, forced an abundant cheer. “You’ll be sorting this garbage forever,” he declared, cheerfully. “Val was collecting for years and years, all the surplus of his events.”

“Some tell me it’s history,” Roscoe said, looking up with interest for some reason. “But either way, it sure brings in the mice.”

“I saw one yesterday,” Jules called over the desk. “It ran right around the glue trap. You’re training them to be smart.”

“Do you know where the humane electric trap is? That looks like a little box?”

“I stomped it. The mouse. When you get smart, you get slow.”

“Marvelous. Spare me the details.”

“I heard it’s little bones break,” Jules chanted. “All the guts exploded out its mouth. It’s eyeballs –”

“You watch too much morbid stuff. You need to expand your horizons.”

“He’s a grim little boy,” Clay added. “He can be funny, though. Jules, what’s the funny word you showed me the other day?”

Jules started giggling and said noooo shut up! Clay, realizing he was being drawn into a contract, started giggling too. He looked toward the little desk to make sure he was matching the hilarity, but the desk light had swollen, swallowing all detail in Jules’ face to the point of bloodless beheading.

“Come on,” Roscoe said. “What was it?”

It came to Clay – painfully, with an equal throb in his good hand. He put down the little tin he was holding and had been struggling to open. “Faggotron,” he declared, with much purpose.

Jules snort-wheezed dismally. Whatever he was dipping his weeny paintbrush into smelled abominably.

“Jules, you know better,” Roscoe was scolding. “– get both of you in trouble –”

“Good god,” Clay exploded. “Whatever you’re working on, child, close it up – it stinks.”

“I have surgical masks. Gimme a sec –”

“Jules, now.” Roscoe said. “Clay, do you feel okay?”

“How could I not be well? Discussing mouse insides, among all this dust, and that piercing light –” Clay struggled to his knees.

“Clay, sit back down, alright?”

A ghastly sense of return, a return to a far worse time, froze Clay’s spine. The adrenaline forced words through his throat, more chemical than logical. “Where is Val?” he demanded. “Tell me this instant. Where did he go?”

“What’s happening?” Jules shrilled onward and upward in hideous alarm, but Clay’s visual perception shrank to exclude him. Roscoe vanished too, more purposeful in disintegration than he was in life. Clay heard a decisive voice call a strange spell – NO staywhereyouare – the always-herald of the big black brick whanged upside his head, a splitting log, the muting of the light he ached to perceive despite the pain, the smell of spitting, overflowing fat – though nobody ever believed him, when said that was what he always smelled. They didn’t believe him even when he wrote it down.

Time out of time out of time out time again and again. Alas. Clay snapped to on a squalid concrete floor. He turned his head and spied Roscoe, a couple feet away, his heavy thighs arranged in a runner’s lunge, consulting his watch. “You alright?” he asked, in utter calm.

From the bottom of his heart, Clay hated him – hated him with ease and abundance of an illogical baby. “Goddamn you to hell,” he said. “Did you put a finger on me?”

“You were going to hit your head on the floor,” Roscoe said. Clay hated him even more, knowing he was telling the perfect truth. “There was nothing soft to put in your way. I made sure you got down okay, then I let go.”

“You’re a beast for touching me,” Clay spit. “A beast. A wild animal. Fuck you.”

“I’m sorry,” Roscoe said simply. “Do you want to try sitting up?”

Clay’s good hand ached horribly. It would stress him for days, the idea of losing both hands. The anticipation was foul. Clay sat up. “How long?” he asked.

“About a minute. Fifty-eight and some milliseconds. I think that’s around the last one. We need to write it down in the little book.”

“You ruined my life.” Again, a cruel muscle flexed, one that understood something beyond Clay’s conscious understanding. “You ruined my life.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I was beautiful, and you destroyed me. You’re an animal.”

“I’m sorry.” Roscoe would take everything he did not deserve, and it only made Clay hate him more.

Beast himself, Clay looked around his enclosure. “Somebody else was here,” he said.

“Jules was here.”

“Where is he?”

“I made him go upstairs. He couldn’t deal with it.”

“He’s a tiny stupid coward.” There was nothing and nobody Clay wouldn’t smash to bits right now. “Childish bitch. What does he have to be afraid of?”

“You’re his friend and he was scared. I don’t think he’s seen something like that before.” Roscoe made his attention scarce, and Clay recognized, for dignity’s sake, he was supposed to check to see if he’d soiled himself. Came up negative. He recalled visiting the bathroom all day outside of all logic, with mounting anxiety. He was sure that was written down somewhere too – useless.

“And if you ever wore your goddamn bracelet,” Roscoe accused, “he might have had some idea of what to expect. Don’t go calling him a bitch or a coward. He’s just a kid.”

The only time Roscoe ever got irritated and demanding of Clay was immediately after witnessing one of the seizures. If Clay did not irrevocably and acutely despise any poor soul who became the main witness of one of his seizures, this propensity would have made him feel more tender toward the man. And now that Jules had seen one, his own time was coming.

“How long has Val been dead?” Clay asked.

“Twenty years. A long time.”

“I know his name. I can’t remember anything of his face.”

“You knew him before I ever showed up. I’ve known him dead longer than I knew him alive – I can’t picture his face either. Not without help.”

“How miserable it must be – that I’m one of the pieces of trash you’ve inherited from him.”

“You’re my friend.”

“Oh no. We’ll be friends again in a few days when I’ve forgotten all this. You’re counting down the seconds, as it gets foggier to me.” Clay raked his nails over his temples. He felt a dent and a curious, inorganic hardness deforming his fine skull. His hair was thinning. Fifty-five. How long since thirty-five? Going to sleep and waking old. “Being robbed of that – that I can’t even be angry at you, at anyone, all the time!”

Roscoe sat through all of this with his forehead balanced on his fingers, as if he were too tired to care. As if he’d heard this a dozen times before, this important speech of Clay’s. “What do you want to tell Jules?” he said.

“I told him about the burns,” Clay said. “And now he knows about this disgrace. And that’s as far as it should go, frankly.”

“If he doesn’t hear it from you, or from someone who cares about you, he’s going to get the details in a bad way.”

“Why shouldn’t he – as nasty gossip? That’s all it happened for – for nasty gossip.”

“You wrote it down once in your own words, remember? When you had that good health aide years ago; she helped you with the police report and court documents and – and the X-rays and things. Show him that – it’s in one of your binders.”

Clay had been told about this magic essay many times. Roscoe attached most importance to it, as an independent effort of self-authority. Clay, to his recollection (which was often wrong) had never shown it to anyone but himself, again and again. He would bring it out before bed, the time of day when he felt at his worst, and parse the stubby, emotionless sentences written by some imbecile who deserved whatever he got.

“He needs to know how these things happen.” Roscoe going on, and on, and on. “If we hide this stuff, it’s just going to repeat itself.”

“You’re far too late,” Clay said. “He’s already some slut.”

Roscoe got up and walked toward Jules’ little desk. He turned off the little light. When he was truly inspired to high anger, he always walked away. Not like a man at all, Clay thought. He couldn’t think of a worse person to teach Jules how to stand up for himself. If the child was lucky, he’d lose the next teeth on the other side of his face – invite some symmetry.

“Have Bo G. tell him,” Clay said, surprising himself.

Roscoe was surprised too. “Why Bo?”

“He was around during that time. He knows what to say. They’re partners, after all. Tell Bo I said so. I won’t ask myself. I won’t take responsibility –” Clay used a filing cabinet to help gather his feet underneath him. “Nobody allows me to take responsibility. So I won’t. Make Bo tell him. And just watch. He’ll treat me differently. He’ll treat me like all of you treat me.”

“I’ll tell Bo.”

“I want to go home now. You take me home. And I don’t want to be bothered tomorrow.”

He would have liked to say I hate you again. Such a vibrant phrase; but already, the stimulating anger was giving way to a constricting drowsiness. Roscoe, like he hadn’t heard Clay insult him and close friends, like he hadn’t said awful swear words he would never repeat in company, came over and helped him pick his way out of the historical mess he’d fallen within.

-

Time and time again – everybody became another year older. Clay got older. Roscoe got older. He helped Clay find a big new calendar for the wall. Jules, a new nineteen, presumably became a new twenty at some point. After a time, a more experienced twenty. It hardly made a difference to his maturity. He partnered so often with Bo he became a solid figure in Clay’s mental foreground – and for all Clay knew, he’d been there as long as Roscoe and Phil and the rest.

Another seizure, in writing, if not in memory. Clay saw it on the calendar. This time overseen by Alan M., in Frank’s kitchen, after the house had emptied from a post-tournament cocktail hour. Small mercy.

Exciting pastimes: Jules and Clay, driven to madness after begging a pack of Rider-Waite cards from an occultist friend of Roscoe’s longhaired shop cashier, tried their hand adapting it to the French Tarot and to introduce this to the club at large; rejected by Frank, Clay suggested a portes ouvertes of antique French parlor games which, using more conventional decks, Frank could hardly decline. Jules, though not part of the upper committee, had established himself socially as Clay’s deputy, and he was an efficient bully.

At one of these novel events, a blistering cold March afternoon, Clay was reminded of yet another novelty – the arrival of someone new. Which, as it turned out, was someone old. Roscoe said Clay had known Martin since the eighties. He was back from sunny California, for reasons Clay might have learned before he forgot.

He showed up among the basement folding tables that day, unfashionably early to take Frank to some expo or whatnot in the suburbs. A clumsy faux pas, Clay commented, as he oversaw a trial Piquet scrimmage between Jules and Bo G.

“I know what he’s here for,” Bo commented archly.

“Shut up,” Jules said.

Martin worked through the tables. Gregarious as he was, he always seemed to stop short, childishly bashful before Clay, unsure as to the amount of kid glove required in the interaction. Clay had piled up enough consistent interactions with the man to form this sustaining judgment.

“You are so very kind to safely usher our favorite senile gentleman,” Clay said, after the initial awkward greeting took place. “Not many would be so generous.”

“Let him crash,” Bo said. “Put him out of his misery. Then I’ll be president.”

“As vice-president,” Clay corrected, “I will be president.”

“I’m going to put rat poison in one of Alan’s gross fucking brandy alexanders,” Jules joined in. “And then I’ll be treasurer.”

“Is it safe for me to be overhearing this?” Martin asked, directing the question to Jules.

“Stick around and find out,” Jules grumbled.

“As a club representative, you must be more polite,” Clay scolded. “You’re a young man now. And Martin is an old friend.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Martin said. He put his hand gently on the table. “Am I old enough to learn what the hell this game is?”

“Show him, Jules. Start a new game.”

“He doesn’t have to do a damn thing,” Bo said, abruptly. “Shut up, Clay.”

Jules, ignoring them both and shutting down any expression in his eyes, steered Martin to an empty table and forced him down into a chair. Clay snooped enough to spy Jules, in a nasty masterstroke, laying out a hand of Solitaire. Martin was too good-natured to pick up on the slight. He sat attentively under Jules’ pointed posture and followed his jabbing fingers, a docile lamb.

“He’s too old for him,” Bo G. declared. He smothered the gameplay and restacked the cards.

Clay sat down. “We’re all too old,” he said. “Isn’t it a tragedy?”

The Stock, Jules’ instructions floated over his head. The Waste. The Foundations. The Tableau. Undisciplined Martin gazed not at the cards, but at the face that made the words. He’d have to smarten up, Clay thought, if wanted to survive Jules’ bossing. After that he looked away. The sight made him melancholy.

-

Departing the remnants of the occasion that evening, he left Frank’s at sundown for the first time all day and was struck dumb by the stifling blanket of snow that had fallen. Clay’s mind, geared toward spring and daffodils and birds’ eggs and shining sun, whirlpooled a split moment into terror. Then he caught himself. How nice – a final, light-bright hug from jack frost.

Despite this pep talk, he had trouble moving. He tingled all over, his body recalling other falls in that cold cushion.

“Clay?”

“Oh gracious.” He turned around toward the porch. “Now, would you look at this landscape? And what on earth were you doing in there, without my noticing?”

Phil descended the steps easily. He stepped inside Clay’s tentative footprints. “Miscommunication,” he explained. “I thought Martin was going to be here, but he got shanghaied by Frank.”

“Appreciated, too.”

“Salvatore caught me and gabbed my ear off about a damn hour.” Phil reached out and took Clay’s elbow and started leading him down the unshoveled walkway. “Let me drive you home. You don’t get around so great in this stuff.”

“You’re a doll.”

Clay enjoyed riding in cars. It was something he wanted to do more. It was cozy inside Phil’s, with the big soft flakes suspended in the air as the spaces between all foundations darkened to black.

“Martin is not comfortable around me,” Clay said.

“Nobody’s really comfortable with you,” Phil explained. “You’re not a person to anybody. You remind people.”

Clay was fond of bluntness, even when he couldn’t understand what lay behind its’ motivation. “Of what?”

“That we can’t trust anybody – not even the people we’re closest to - who we see every day.” The tires zizzled pleasantly through a wet right turn. “Martin is just embarrassed. Since fatherhood made him mature, he’d prefer to think he was always that way. But he knows we all remember what he did to Drake.”

“Who, now?” Clay asked.

“Drake. He started sniffing around the neighborhood for you, after your group home closed. Years and years ago."

“Hmmm?”

Traffic piled up against a red light and Phil could turn to look at Clay. “You know something interesting I wonder about sometimes?”

“What could it be, darling?”

“If you remember more than you let on,” Phil revealed. He said this with no urgency or true amusement. Phil always spoke as if held no worries and felt no significance. He was most relaxed. Here was a man you could have a seizure around. “If you remember everything, and you’ve just been having fun with us this whole time.”

“What an idea!” Clay had to laugh. “And a tempting one. You want to know what I remember, dear?”

“Tell me.”

“Nothing. Not a speck. Zot. If only I could have fun with you all.” The cars inched forward. “I’d like to thank you, you know.”

“For what?”

“I have a feeling,” Clay said, “that you’ve always been very frank with me. And frankness is something I appreciate. You know who you remind me of? You remind me of Jules.”

Phil, driving comfortably with one hand on the wheel, pushed his head gently against the driver’s seat. He started to smile, close-lipped.

“Jules once asked me if my arm was never going to work normally, or look normally, then why didn’t the doctors simply amputate? Can you imagine anyone else having the nerve? But I appreciated being asked, all the same.” The question had pleased Clay so much, he’d made Jules write it down himself in the little notebook.

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him I was hardly in a state to be consulted.”

“You know how to get Jules to shut up?” Phil said in turn. “You get him on his stomach, and you grind his face into the floor.”

Clay cackled at such an absurd image. “Now stop,” he said. “That’s quite mean!”

“You get your knee pressed in real low on his spine,” Phil continued quietly, “and you shove his face in, and you twist. You don’t stop until his nose starts bleeding. After that he quiets down and gets to liking it."

“That’s quite enough,” Clay insisted, patting his own mouth to discourage his giggles. “Don’t tease him when he’s not here to defend himself.”

Phil steered down the narrow enclave of a one-way street. They were entirely in the dark now, purged in fountains of orange light. Clay squeezed Phil’s wrist. “Stop!” he asked. “Just stop. Stop a moment.”

Phil braked. Eventually, he shifted to park. They watched the unseasonal snow drowse in the air, suspended in swags of streetlight. Clay could not see the end of the road. Nobody was out and about. A pleasant enclosure calmed his heart.

“Now just look at that,” he said, still holding Phil’s wrist. “Why must artists always act like they’re so miserable? If I could paint this picture, I would never be sad again.”

“Yeah,” Phil agreed, dreamily. “I see what you mean.”

He was watching the snow – Clay checked to confirm, and it made him glad. Watching together, faces trained out within a safe shelter like clever woodland creatures, Clay could believe he had somebody by his side who understood him by instinct, if not through conscious effort. He could communicate, through the act of sitting together, all the secrets his brain and body held away from his knowledge. It was the darkness that reminded him – not doing for oneself, not eating for oneself, nor speaking nor toileting for oneself, in a mass of years so long he could no longer comprehend; and lighted hour upon lighted hour, lying there and anticipating the moment of terror – terror he had yanked pleasure from, after many years of practice – when the light would go out.

Clay sat there and he wished to make this known – in goodwill, in peace, in love, surrounded, with no respite, by his beloved friends.