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allkordelia · 1 year

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Keep Me in Your Thoughts (1)

[King's Landing - Heir's Tournament]

You held your dress as you walk down the steps and took a seat on the first row with the king and otto, your curly hair was pulled into a high bun with your white streak loose making you put it behind your ear. You held your child in your lap as you waited for this barbaric sport to start and be over with so you can go back to your chambers, you saw the knights lined up one by one as your eyes carry over them.

You tare your eyes away when the king stood tall and announced that his wife the queen has gone into labor, you along with your family clapped at the joyous knews even through you didn't feel any joy, he proclaimed the start of the tourney before taking his seat making you watch as the knights rode around the grounds as the man in red called their names and the house they served. The first person up was your cousin, boremund baratheon, and some new knight from dorne.

"Princess Rhaenys Targaryen! I would humbly ask for the favor of the Queen Who Never Was." You glared at the man for the unnecessary nickname he called your mother, you locked eyes with her making you gave her a look only for her to give you one back before she grabbed her flower crown and get up.

"You could have Baratheon's tongue for that." You heard otto say next to you.

"Tongues will not change the succession. Let them wag." The king replied, making you roll your eyes at him, the amount of times I heard him talk about how family is important and how should never be divided, he certainty have no care that his own flesh and blood was disrespected. What a hypocrite, you thought. You watch the exchanged between your mother and cousin as she wished him luck only for him to give her a impertinent answer, he glanced over at you as you gave him a void look while your eyes was slit with fire making him cowered away as he took his post.

"Mother! Who do you think will win?" You eldest son asked turning in his seat from the second row making you shrug one shoulder leaning in a bit.

"The dorinish lad. That's only because he looks fit unlike boremund who looks like he ate a whole goat..." you said with a slight smile as everyone in the box laugh including your sweet child on your lap.

"I have to agree with you on that one." The young boy said laughing before turning around to see the two knights, you sat back in your seat noticing viserys and otto looking at you before muttering.

"And if I'm lucky he eat dirt and maybe that would bring down a peg," Otto gave you an unamused look.

"Must you speak like that infront of the child." You rolled your eyes with your lower half of your face in your son's white curly hair before pulling away to look at Otto.

"It's not like I'm saying anything lethal, and if I did he wouldn't mind...wouldn't you my sweet seahorse." The young boy wasn't paying no mind to what his mother was saying as he watch boremund get knocked off his horse, this made you smile as you clapped along the others at the knight who did it.

As the dornish knight called Cole and Boremund make their way off the grounds drums sounded off as the crowds in the stands cheered when they see the one and only, prince daemon targaryen, you could see from your seat how he smile boastful as everyone cheered for him. His eyes looked up at the bo, to anyone else it looked like he was staring at his brother or his neice, but in reality he was looking at you making you stare back at him with an unamused look before he gave you a smug smile as he went and picked the knight he was going to joust. Your heart fell to your stomach when you saw daemon point his lance at gwayne, you held your child close to your chest as gwayne stepped forward you looked at alicent who turn to you worried making you give her a reassuring smile as you squeezed her shoulder in comfort. The young girl gave you small smile before turning around you could tell she was worried about her brother, and you can't blame her knowing daemon he won't show any mercy. As daemon took his post gwayne made his way towards the box, he took off his helmet and look up as he held his lance high.

"My lady Rhaelle. It would be an honor to ask for your favor..." Gwayne said, you smiled softly getting up with your flower crown in one hand while you held your son on your hip, you walked over putting the crown on his lance.

"I wish you much luck, ser gwayne." You smiled down at him, he bowed his head.

"Thank you, stepmother." You rolled your eyes at him as he gave you a cheeky smile before putting on his helmet and making his horse back up as you took your seat next to your husband again. You looked over at daemon who was watching the whole interactiong with a bitter look before he turned his attention to gwayne, you said a quick prayer in your head before hearing the horn and you watch anxiously as they changed each other in all honestly you didn't want neither man to be hurt. You flinch when gwayne got daemon in the chest causing otto to look relieved and placate, but that was short lived when daemon circled back and aimed for gwayne's horse leg. You covered you son's eyes as the horse flipped over crushing gwayne and injuring his face when his helmet fell off, you turned looking back down to see squires carrying gwayne away before removing your hand from your son's face as the people cheered for daemon and his ignoble action.

The tourney continued on like this for about another hour until you had enough violence for today, you decided to stand up with your son in your arms, making otto look at you as everyones else was watching the next competitors.

"Where are you going?" Otto asked looking up at you.

"I have grown a headache from all this noise, I will be returning to my chambers." Your son, Baelor, whined lowly at this choice before he spoke in a shy voice.

"No, mama I wish to watch the tourney." He said looking at you with a small frown as you gave him a look of pity.

"You can leave him with me, lady-wife. " Otto says, you glanced at him in surpised he usually doesn't like being left alone with the kids, so you conseplated on leaving baelor or not until the young boy started getting fussy making you rock him and press a tender kiss against his cheek before handing him over to his father.

You moved down a step looking at your childern and step-daughter telling them you be gone for a bit causing them to nod before looking back to the grounds, you held your dress as you walked up the steps to the entrance. You look back at your son seeing him smile and laugh as otto played with him, you looked away staring at the rest of your childern as they watch the tourney. Your eyes moved over to the grounds and over to daemon who looked up at the box again at you, he held eye contact with you for a split second before you turn and walked away not giving him a second thought.

You walk through the halls not feeling up to going to your chambers, so you ended up at the queen's chambers seeing all the female servants around the bed with the maester. You saw aemma twist and turn moaning in pain, when one of the servant girls went to get more water aemma saw you standing in the doorway.

"Rhaelle! My sweet girl...ah come...come here and hold...mmhm–hold my hand." Aemma called out weakly in pain making you grimace and slowly walk further into the room.

"How long has she been like this." You asked, standing by the queen's bed, her hand grasped your hand quickly and tightly making you scrunch up your face a bit as you look at the maester.

"A few hours..." he came closer moving towards you to whisper as you turned a bit to look at him, "...it seems the baby has been breach and it's not good, I'm sending someone to receive the king now." You sigh looking down at aemma as she laid there sweaty and pink in the face, one of the servants brought you a chair making you take a seat next to aemma as you held her hand.

"...rhaelle.." your head bowed when you looked up at aemma, "...I must tell you something–" your hands were holding her hand rubbing your thumb against her palm.

"Don't speak. Save your energy for the babe." Aemma shook her head before she could say what she wanted to say to you the king walked in with otto behind him, you looked at aemma squeezing her hand gently before moving aside for her husband to take your place you move to your own husband side while the maester, you, and otto watch the king and queen.

"How is she?" You glanced at Otto and gave him a disappointing sigh.

"Not good. She's in a lot of pain only pray that the gods have mercy...on both of them." You said, before you and the other two men looked away from one another to see the king walking up to three of ya.

"Aemma wishes to speak to you." He said solemnly looking at you with heartbroken expression, you nodded walking away from the man before walking by to aemma's side.

You took your seat again as the older woman turned her head weakly looking exhausted at you, "Rhaelle...my sweet cousin, my sweet girl." Aemma moved the back of her hand to graze your cheek you grabbed it linking your hands before planting a kiss on her knuckles.

"I am so sorry." You looked at her confused making you shake your head slightly.

"For what, my queen." You could see the pain and regret in her eyes as she stared at you with tears.

"I failed in protecting you...I was so tired of losing babe after babe that...I told him him..." your widen at what she was talking about when you looked at the servant girl who was standing on the other side pouring water into a glass, the servant glanced at you when she was finish with a look before walking away.

"Aemma. There's no need–" you started.

"No, I...I have to tell you this because I know I won't make it....not this time." You shook your head at her as you moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to her.

"You will make it. You will because you are a dragon, my sweet cousin. You are strong and you have fire in your veins." Aemma shook her head closing her eyes as tears slipped down her face, no matter how fucked up it was for what happened to you here you still couldn't hate aemma for what happened.

"I don't deserve you and you didn't deserve what happened to you, I'm so sorry..." aemma weep making you turn away in pain can't standing see her like this as you looked toward the maester and the others you heard mellos say something about the queen, your eyes caught otto before turning your head quickly before back at the queen.

"Aemma. I need you to listen to me very carefully...I need you to push." You knew what mellos was talking about with the king you heard the stories and you heard the malpractice the maesters did to those woman, you know that if she push there a chance she might live but there's a chance she might die but aleast it she will die quick and painless.

"Aemma. You need to push." She said hastily turning to see otto coming this way.

"...promise me. You look after rhaenyra, rhaelle."

"Aemma–"

"Promise me! Please, protect her from these vultures. Make her know shes not alone." You looked at her for moment before nodding.

"I promise...i promise I look after her but you need to push–" she cut short as otto pulled you away from the bed.

"Aemma! Let go of me. Aemma, push." Otto held your arm as he dragged you out, the last thing you saw was her giving you a small smile before viserys blocked your vision and you were out of the door.

"Unhand me." You snatched you arm from oot's grip and stood outside in the hall.

"You should return to the tourney–"

"No! I'm not leaving...you know this is wrong, otto." He looked at you with a ashamed look.

"The king has made his decision, now please return to the tourney–" his voice was cut off by aemma's screams, you look at the door in horror as your hands went to your stomach feeling sick.

"Rhaelle, please." You move towards the door as you heard her begging them to stop, otto caught your waist stopping you from going inside you struggled in his arms for but before there was a silence. You twist out of his hold and barged through the door, you almost threw up bile when you saw the scene in front of you. An unmoving aemma in pool of her own blood but that wasn't that made you sick it was the servants who was there to make her comfortable and look after her that were moving away after holding her arms and legs down, your eyes looked to viserys to see him holding his child he before turning to you and otto with teary smile.

"It's a boy." He spoke brokenly before looking down at the babe again, you stepped back in shock and disgust.

"Monsters." You croaked out, "...fucking monsters!" You snapped pushing past otto as you stalk out of the room.

You looked down as you twisted the flower in your hand...the queen's favorite, moonbloom, it only grows in old town but the king have them send to the red keep every few weeks as a gift to the queen. You remember how her face will light up when she saw them at feasts as decorations on the tables or just around the castle, she would always say that it was viserys way of telling her how much he loved her. You thought it was sweet at the time, it sounded like something you would dream about when you were a little girl hoping that one day your future lord husband will do the same, but life had other plans. Cruel and unfair plans that cause you to resent the very people you trusted. You side eyed otto who bumped your shoulder with his own taking you out of your thoughts, you lifted your eyes up to him, look at you with a sorrow expression as he spoke in a low voice.

"Maybe you should say a few words, lady-wife." You gave him a look of uncertainty before you glanced around, rhaenyra was far away from her father with daemon amd alicent near her, you could still see the tears that slide down her face from your spot here, you turned your eyes to viserys who stood there like a ghost staring into nothing.

"No, I rather not." You crushed the flower in your hand as rhaenyra's dragon cremated the queen and the prince, you reopening your palm again as the wind blew the ashes of aemma and her son waft away to the sky like the petals in her hand.

The night air was cool against your skin as you leaned against the stone rails outside your large balcony, the city of King's Landing looked peaceful and calm today not like last night. You turned your head into your chambers to check on baelor, who was under your covers with his thumb in his mouth, a small smile made its way onto your face as you walked back inside you took a seat on the edge of the bed as your fingers rake through his hair, it made you sad at times that he looks more like his father than you with his alabaster skin and silk white hair but he did have your nose and your soft eyes. You frown when you heard a knock on the door a feeling of dread sets in as you sat up the knock came again making you move off the bed, you took slow steps to the door before your hand rest on the knob making you slowly turn it and opened it a few centimeter wide.

"What is it?" You snapped.

"It seems like your special treatment here has made you forget how to address a prince." Your head snapped up to see daemon giving you a small smile, your shock evaporated into irritation.

"Belive me, cousin. There's no such thing as special treatment in this prison." You chide, a quick hum was his only response as he looked down at you.

"May I come in?" He asked, you looked at him for a minute.

"No." You closed the door only for him to stop you with his hand, you glare at him while he only smirked as he didn't need to use much strength to push open the door making you stumbled back.

You looked to your child to found them still sound asleep, you turned back to daemon to be blind sided by his lips you move your head back but he moved his hand behind your neck to keep you in place. You didn't realized he was steering you until you felt your legs hit the outside arm of the couch and felt his other hand pull up your nightgown you scratched his neck causing him to pull away from you, moving like a bat out hell you stood on the other end of the couch with your back to the balcony you watched daemon draw back his hand from his neck and smirk at you with lust in his eyes.

"You gotten feisty since I been away, I kinda like it." You gave him a hard glare as he came closer.

"You need to leave." You said stern as every step he took you took two steps back.

"But, I missed you so much, dear cousin." He held you trap against the wall making you push at his chest as his head leaned against yours before whispering, "And all I want now is to bury my face in your sweet cunt." His hand massage your breast through your thin nightgown, a moan broke free as your swollen breasts were sensitive as he played with them he left love bites on both sides of your neck.

"...no...daemon, not in here..." you clench your jaw trying to stop another moan from slipping out, daemon growled in your neck before bending his knees a bit before picking you up and carry you outside to the balcony. After, placing you on the banister he pecked your lips a few times before he kneeled in front of you, he pushed the gown up making you shiver at the cold air you moved your leg to rest on his shoulder as he kissed your inner thigh getting you wet.

You gasped slighly feeling his lips against your folds as if giving them a kiss before feeling his tongue swipe over your folds, you tilt your head up to the stars as daemon's warm tongue lick your cunt before his lips sucked on it making you roll your hips against his face while your hand grasped the back of his neck. His hand moved to your breast pinching your nipple causing a sharpe inhale at the overwhelming pleasure, you held on to the banister for dear life as you arch your back you fear if you leaned any further you might fall to your death. You jolt slightly feeling daemon's tongue explore your insides making you feel a bit dazed by the way his tongue work in devouring you, he had his arm over stomach keeping you still and from falling as you pulled his hair at the back of his head causing him to moan against your wet cunt. Your body erupted in goosebumps as he made you cum you let out soft hum as he continue to lick your folds and tender sweet spot, he finally pulled away his hand left your breast to your throat pulling you into a heated kiss while his fingers massage and circle your entrance before pushing in making a throaty moan against his lips.

"You still taste sweet." He mumbled against your lips your arms went around his neck pulling him closer, "...oh, how I missed your taste, your smell, your lips, your body..." His face move to the crook of your neck inhaling your scent as he crane his two fingers inside of you making you whimper at his touch.

"You have no idea how much I missed you." He mutters, leaving sloppy kisses on your cheek and jaw.

"Oh, how I missed your touch, daemon." You sighed blissfully as you started biting his neck leaving your own love bites around his neck.

"I can only imagine, my sweet qēlos. I wager all the gold in the kingdom that otto haven't been giving you the special attention you need with how needy you been acting since I walked in..." you pulled back looking at him your hands on his chest as he looked at you with his lips red and glistening in the moonlight while his hair was a mess and his face was flustered

"Why must you bring up his name in such a imtimate moment?" You asked.

"Why must you feel ashame when I do?" He ask back looking at you in question.

"I do not–"

"Do too." You scoffed, as his fingers slipped out of you when you pushed him slightly as you got off the banister.

"How can I be so foolish to think you came here to be with me–" you rolled your eyes turing away from him.

"I did–"

"But, yet here you are bringing up my husband while all I want to do is be with you," you turned back to him with a hurt and annoyed look, "...you should just leave the moment has past and I do not wish my child to wake up to found you here." You walked past him only him to grab your arm he looked inside his eyes going to the little boy in your bed.

"I saw him earlier at the tourney, you imagine my surpised when I was saw he doesn't have the similar streak in his hair like you or the similar green eyes like your other childern, why is that?" He asked turning his eyes back to you as you looked at him with a blank expression shrugging.

"I don't know, maybe my targaryen blood is getting stronger with each child I pop out."

"Or maybe my brother's seed finally gave him a son, pity that he can't put him on the iron throne though. " He gave you a fake pout making you clenched your jaw.

"That's a vile allegation." You snapped.

"Is it though because while away I heard some distasteful rumors about you, so tell me how long did it take for you to become my brother's whore after I left." You snatched your arm from his grip and push at his chest not moving him one bit.

"How dare you I would never–"

"Fuck my brother to benefit your husband?" You glared.

"You know nothing...and how could you after abandoning me here. " You hissed, daemon smile disappeared before looking away.

"I didn't abandoned you."

"Really? What do you call it when you up and leave out of nowhere with no explanation." He snap his eyes at you with a look that you couldn't cipher.

"I had to leave."

"Why?" You pushed wanting an explanation.

"Just know that I had to." He snapped making you purse your lip in a thin line.

" I had to leave you...after that night. I just had to leave, I knew if I didn't...you grow to hate me and I didn't want that." You looked up at him, before putting your hand on his chest where his heart was, he put his hands over yours looking down at you.

" I can never hate you," she sighed as he thumb rubbed the top of her hand, "whatever you thought could have happened to make me feel that way, couldn't be as bad as the pain my husband put me through these last few years."

"Than say the words and I will kill him. I'll make sure he suffer greatly and finally put a end to this miserable marriage." He said, daemon words made your heart flutter but you knew nothing good would come out of it and nothing can erase that sullied feeling inside you.

"And what than, daemon. " He step closer cuddling your cheeks in his hands.

"We'll marry and I'll take you as my second wife, your childern will have my name. We will live on dragonstone and raise our childern there." You looked into daemon's eyes and you similar words he told you long ago and remember how you swoon when you got back to your chambers, and he gave you hope you believed his words then like you do now. Daemon love you and you love him but you knew better, you took his hands and held them in front of you as you knew what you were about to say would break his heart.

"Your brother will never allow you to take another wife, and I fear the consequences that may take place if you do this..." you sigh with a small frown, "I feel the gods do not wish for us to be togther." He snatched his hand from your grasped as if you were a hot stone taking a step back from you making your heart ach.

"I'm sorry but it is true, if otto's dies I will just be sold off again like cattle to the next lord, it's not worth you getting in trouble." He huff through his nose, you could see he was growing angry and you know thats only because he doesn't want you to see him heartbroken.

"I'm giving you a escape. I'm giving you the life you truely deserve, and I'm willing to destroy my life and my relationship with my brother for you. Only for you to say no." He hissed out, you gave him a penitent look as you step closer only for him to move away and walk back into the room.

"Daemon, wait–" he caught your wrist after grabbing his arm you both stood in the hall just meters away from your chambers.

"No, if you want to continue living your life as a cum bearer for your husband go ahead I do not care," he roughly let go of your wrist making you hold it to your chest as you massage it, he stepped closer making you look up at him with regret.

"Issa dōna zaldrīzes darilaros, I did not mean to hurt you–" he cackled in your face making you close your mouth. My sweet dragon prince.

"Hurt me? Don't be stupid...you don't have that power over me...your nothing to me anymore." He look down at you as if you were least than him.

"I know that's not true....your just trying to hurt me," you said quietly, he looked at you for a moment as you stare into his lilac eyes seeing the storm you cause brewing inside.

"No, I mean ever single word of it, I see you for who you really are now, " you frown at his words, you turn your head away when he lean his face closer to yours, "A pathetic little girl with no real purpose except for laying on her back," he scoffed.

"what a waste of a evening. " He spat stalking away from you as you stare after him with tears, you sniffled wiping your face hearing your son call for you, you walk back inside closing the door as you tend to your youngest.

Taglist: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @beggarsnotchoosey

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writingcold · 6 months

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Welcome to Chapter One and Two of Best Laid Plans!

A/N: This is not an easy story to read. I feel I need to say that up front. This follows Jake and Amanda across a twenty year journey when the story is fully told. It is an AU, set during the 1980’s, though the era plays very subtly in the story itself. This is a sad, angsty read with little pockets of happiness and tenderness.

The story is a simple one - Jake and Amanda fall in love over the course of a summer before her first semester of college. But for all of their planning, their young love takes a turn and sets them both on a course that is not the path they could never have expected. It is the first story in a long time that I have tried to write in first person - a little different!

I’ll be posting in two chapter increments, every Wednesday. At least that is the current plan! BLP is a finished work, so there will be no disruption in postings.

This is a complete fiction - totally made up. I do not, nor will I ever know Jake or any member of GVF. That said, this story is mine. Please respect that.

A tremendously huge thank you to @takenbythemadness for being my eyes on this. She took so many bullets as I honed this story into what it is. I owe her drinks and lots of boxes of tissues. 💚Love you, my friend.

Content warnings: Angst. Pregnancy. Poverty.

Word count: approx. 9700

Chapter 1: December, 1981: Amanda POV

My feet could not be still. They bounced and kicked, shimmied and banged against the counter and stool of Blaine’s Diner. My heart felt like it was going a million times a minute in a threat to jump out of my chest as I tried like hell to keep a calm exterior. Cindy watched me as she moved around, filling cups and ushering plates in and out of the kitchen. Her bright smile seemed to curve all the more every time she drew close to me, coffee pot in hand in a silent ask if I needed more. The answer, of course, was always a nod. My fingers would instantly wrap around the warmth of the putty colored mug as the stream of molten liquid refreshed the pottery.

“Jake must be getting home, yeah?” Cindy asked as she worked to make fresh coffee. “Did you have a good semester?”

“It was fantastic,” I answered, my body practically vibrating over the notion that his name had been uttered around me. “Jake got in last night, actually, so…”

A soft laugh warmed my skin as she reached over and patted my arm. “It’ll be good to see you together again. I’ve got a good feeling about you two.”

Cindy had had a front row seat to the burgeoning romance that was between me and Jake. We had spent countless hours within Blaine’s, downing coffee and spinning plans the likes only new love could create. She flitted off to help another table, leaving me alone in my excitement. Jake had been my high school crush. I was new to town my freshman year and my eyes landed on him the very first day of school. He was a senior, forced to show new students around. Although he was nice through the whole tour, I could see how he was annoyed by the end. I had stayed towards the back of the group of eight kids, just listening to him explain the layout, giving little hints about how the bell schedule seemed to give us an extra minute between the fourth and fifth periods, which teachers were cool and which were not, and when to avoid the school lunch. He held the door open for us when it was time to get back to the office. When I passed him, he smiled. It wasn’t one of those mean ‘hurry up so I can get away from you all’ smiles either. He was not the cutie pie high school boy. He wasn’t tall, dark and handsome, either. He was only a bit taller than me, with his shaggy hair all unkempt and dark eyes positively glittering as he had smiled the kind of smile that tugged at one corner of his mouth more than the other. He and his twin brother, Josh, were not the most popular, but they seemed to be everywhere and attached to everything - together.

I carried that smile with me all through that year. It was stupid and girlish, but despite all the typical teen drama that happened, seeing Jake smile brought me a comfort that I did not understand at the time. I would run into him during drama and band classes, as well as all the different productions that we put on that year. I was a little distraught when he graduated. He had plans of going to Loyola on a music scholarship, while his twin was headed to New York for film school.

My youthful angst over not seeing Jacob Kiszka was fierce as the summer expired and the new school year started. My friends were loud and obnoxious and full of being sixteen, or close to it. I was the first to get my license and thus drove everyone everywhere - including parties, practices and games. I had my first kiss that year by Robbie Parker. Am I embarrassed that I pictured that it was actually Jake giving me that kiss - just a little. Robbie was sweet, but my heart belonged elsewhere.

My crush only increased over the remaining years of school. The Kiszka family was incredibly tight knit. Jake would be there for nearly every play (maybe not opening night, but at least be there for one performance), and every big event for his siblings. Senior year was my year to wonder. The last of his siblings had graduated. I was still carrying the torch, though. I could not really explain why. I did see him in passing during the holidays while I was gift shopping with Jenni and Mel. But it was at Martin’s during Spring Break that had left me breathless as I smacked right into him as I was leaving and he was walking in. I was so embarrassed that I didn’t even look back after he tried to make sure I was okay. All I could think was how good he smelled. Ugh.

I was at Marni’s graduation party when the friends decided they had had enough of the adults having all the fun and wanted to head out to the river for the rest of the night. There were rumors of a bonfire and keg. We piled into my ancient microbus and bounced our way down to the other side of the golf course, out into the woods where no one lived. By the time we got out to the party, it was all swamped with football players and jocks of all kinds, along with cheerleaders, band geeks, and the Kiszkas. My eyes pasted themselves instantly to Jake as he stood talking with Josh and Sam along with a few from my class. I tried to be normal. I really did. I swear I was not gawking, but Jake looked different that night. He looked like a man with his hair pulled back and scruff on his chin. Marni practically threw me under my own bus when she screamed - full assed screamed - a hello in their direction. Fortunately, everyone just chalked it up to Marni being Marni, probably drunk off her butt and it was only 10:20 in the evening.

We danced around the bonfire and dug our toes in the river mud and laughed when people started to fall into the icy water. As the night wound down, I noticed that Jake was close to my group, his eyes straying to me. Me. I chanced a smile and a hello.

“Amanda, right?” he asked as he smiled that smile that I had held dear for four years.

“Yeah. Jake, right?” I mimicked with a way more confident nod than I realized. I heard Marni start to downright cackle as he took my hand.

“Happy graduation,” he said with a smile, completely ignoring my obnoxious friend.

We fell into conversation immediately. He was all about Chicago and what he was learning. He wanted to know my plans - where I was planning on heading off to for school or otherwise. Our conversation was like breathing. Our words were normal and filled with fun and laughter and something that I would come to realize was promise by the end of the summer. We had traded numbers at the end of the night. I watched as he wrote his number on my forearm - the way he held my wrist and blew against the ink to make sure it didn’t smudge. He stood in the road as I drove my half passed out friends into the dawn’s light and called me two hours later to say good morning.

The summer had been magical. Every moment I wasn’t working at the grocery and he wasn’t working at Martin’s Music, we were together. It was like Jake and I were magnets that needed to be together. My parents were a little concerned about how much time I was spending with him and voiced it after they caught us making out behind the dugout on the school baseball fields. Jake found himself in a long conversation with my dad without me present. That was weird.

When summer was screaming to a close, my whole being was amped up to eleven. I was getting ready for school and things got serious. I was in love. I knew it. I voiced it. I had never said ‘I love you’ to anyone besides my family. I was rewarded with silence. Just when I thought my heart couldn’t take it, he kissed me. Jake kissed me and held me and treasured me and lulled me, and finally set me on fire with words of love the likes I was sure no one had heard pass his lips before.

Instead of dreading what was to come, we planned. We planned every instance of every week, planning for calls, planning for visits during the holidays, planning for the future. When we parted - me to Dearborne and him to Chicago - we had an idea of what our schedule would look like. We spent the last days wrapped up with each other. We were happy. We talked about the future and how it looked for us. We decided, together, that we could flourish.

College had not been as easy as I thought it would be. My schedule was crazy and hard and I had no one to turn to but myself. Jake called me at the dorm every Tuesday and Saturday afternoon. We’d write. Before I knew it, mid-terms were kicking my ass and Thanksgiving was right around the corner. Though I had hoped that he would make it home, the possibility of him picking up a week’s worth of gigs had become a reality and too good to pass up. So, we promised that the holidays would be extra special. That was what had led me to be in Blaine’s, waiting for Jake.

“Just the Two of Us” started to pipe through the radio. The happiness in my body doubled. Cindy paused as I could no longer hide the smile that graced my mouth. She took a chocolate chip cookie from the tray and set it before me with a wink.

“If that boy doesn’t get here soon, I’m afraid you’re going to explode,” she teased. “That’s on me because if it gets any sweeter, I’m going to go into a coma.”

The chime on the door filled my ears and I felt his gravity pulling me - all of me - with force. Jake walked through the door and I knew everything was… off. His eyes sparked for a moment like usual, but then it was gone. He walked slowly, his body rigid like he was dreading to talk to me. Cindy was waiting at the counter for him. The look in her eye matched my own. The happy that had been in my gut turned to steel wasps as he paused with a hard swallow.

“Can I get a coffee, please?” he asked, his voice halting.

“How about menus?” Cindy asked as she reached for a fresh mug.

“Just the coffee today, thanks,” he said softly, his gaze shielded. “Would it be all right if we sat in that booth over there?”

Cindy nodded with a smile that did not meet her eyes. I watched as he grabbed hold of my mug and walked away without a touch, a smile, anything that would convey the warmth that should have been present. I felt my once excited feet shuffle forward. The apprehension that poured out of my brain, I could taste it in my mouth. He may not have waited for me at first, but he did wait until I arrived at the table before he sat down across from me. He barely could hold my gaze as he seemed to find it difficult to get comfortable.

“You look good,” he said, finally after taking several sips of his coffee. “How’s your family?”

“They are well. Grandma should be getting in tomorrow with Aunt Rose from their trip from Florida,” I said, attempting to sound like I did not notice how he seemed to skirt looking directly at my face. “How’s your folks? Josh coming in from New York?”

He nodded as he fidgeted with the handle of his mug. “They’re good. Josh drove up with me. He’s already fighting with mom over which cookies to make.”

I could feel it. Jake was visibly upset, but I could feel the soured air between us. I felt my lip tremble as I realized that he wasn’t just struggling to look at me, but was physically restraining himself. This. Whatever this was, I had felt it before but in a much smaller venue. This was like when Robbie kissed me then a few days later said he didn’t like me anymore. What stung for moments returned to my body. Every nerve ending was paused, waiting for the shot that I suddenly knew was coming across my bow.

“Mandy, you must understand that this summer meant everything to me,” he started, each word fighting to get out of his mouth as if his lips were fighting against him.

My jaw felt like jello as my stomach rolled around like I had a bad case of flu. His body seemed to bend away from his own thoughts. The sight made my brain stand up in anger. The skin around my eyes felt like it consisted of pulsing drums as I shifted in the seat.

“I’m not understanding what’s happening, Jake,” I said as I tried to reach across the table.

The words started to fall out of his mouth, but my ears fought against hearing them. It was like every third or fourth or fifth was striking right when finally, finally my brain allowed one single word to penetrate - pregnant. Everything became laser focused and my body shored itself up like it was about to be run over by a hurricane of maximum force.

“When did this happen?” I asked, my voice foreign to my brain.

“Thanksgiving. I knew I was drinking too much. I knew it,” he whispered, the anger towards himself bruising the softness of my own heart. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. Mandy, I fucked this up so bad. I didn’t mean it. I just… I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

My back was straight. Completely opposite of the way it felt like from the inside. My stupid jaw wouldn’t stop quivering as he continued to talk, but each word brought me closer to vomiting up the gallon of coffee that sloshed around my stomach.

“I have to do what is right,” he whispered, his eyes looking glassy with tears.

I watched in shock as he stood up, fetching a couple of dollars from his pocket to lay down on the table to cover the ticket and tip. I realized then, there was no noise in the diner. It was like the few tables that were occupied knew what was happening between us. Jake leaned in close. The smell of his cologne, his smell that I so had welcomed and had missed, invaded my senses.

“Understand that I love you,” he whispered. “It’ll always be you, Amanda. I know I messed this up. My mistake. I’ll always love you.”

He kissed the ridge of my cheek. I could feel his mouth trembling as he planted a ghostly kiss into my skin. He did not withdraw quickly. He hovered. The click of his teeth chattering in his head was like nails in my heart. His pain was palpable, bleeding into my own in a perfect storm of … It was a perfect storm of… Distance.

He was gone. My Jake was gone. I felt the first tear strike my face and I wiped it away with a whimper. Cindy approached, a wad of tissues in her hand and a reassuring touch to my shoulder.

“Take as long as you need, sugar,” she whispered, her fingers pressing gently into the sleeve of my sweater.

In the matter of moments, my world was tilted to the side, kicked down the road and incinerated before my eyes. Jake was supposed to be ‘it’ for me. We had talked futures. We planned everything. We had had sex. Oh my goodness the sex. But we had taken care of each other - we talked about it and made sure we were careful. I was important to him, he cared for me deeply, just as I cared for him, and he was…

Jake POV

I sat in my car for hours after the diner. What I had to do was hard enough, but to see it etched and blistered across her eyes killed me. The last thing I ever wanted to do was to harm her. The last thing I ever wanted to do is to face any time without her. And yet, there I was, getting drunk in the front seat of my father’s car, alone, beyond confused at how something so stupid could have happened.

Junior year had been difficult. It was even worse than my sophomore year. I felt lost. I enjoyed classes for the most part. The work was hard, but manageable. I enjoyed the gig work that I was able to drum up - and the job in the record store was great. It was harder making friends. Chicago was huge and might as well have been another planet compared to Frankenmuth. Dorms were not for me. It was too easy to get into trouble. Too much booze, too many girls, too much of everything. Getting that apartment with Derrick, even though it was crappy and in a shit building, was huge. But it also allowed for more distraction than I had planned on. If there was a way to ignore the entire year, even though I passed all my classes - barely - I would gladly do so.

I didn’t want to go to that party. Sam insisted. He was all hopped up on his own stellar freshman year at Stanford. Josh was doing amazing things at NYU. Ronnie was killing it at Ann Arbor. Then there was me. I was in a position of losing my tiny little scholarship, and felt like I was squandering my parent’s money, as well as my own. So, to go to a party with freshly graduated high school students was not high on my list of shit to do. But then she was there. Amanda Fischer. She was adorable with a capital ‘A’. She had been that kind of quiet pretty girl in high school that went unnoticed until she clobbered you with a smile that you were sure you did not deserve. And there she was, with the same band of friends that she had been with since she had moved to town my senior year. She watched over them like a mama hen, making sure everyone was having fun, but staying safe.

She was like the sun. Her laugh was music and I found myself drawing closer to her as the hours ticked by. She was friends with everyone. I finally found myself next to her and felt stupid when I pretended to not know her name. My heart pounded heavily when she said my name. We talked like old friends instantly even though that had not been the case. Our spheres had crossed and touched, but never really had I talked with her. At the time, I wondered why that was. She was a drama and music kid. She was always around the fringes of my own group in school. And yet…

We found ourselves tucked on a huge boulder on the edge of the river, just down a bit from the party. I got to know her. Everything. She was so ready to laugh and ask questions and challenge me in my own thoughts. I was hooked even before I was writing my number across her arm. In my brain, I was already marking her as my own, but in truth, I was signing myself over to her.

The summer left me stunned. Mandy was my drug and she made me better just in her presence. I could see forward so clearly as to what was to come. Everything was leading me to this, and I wanted to be a man for her. I wanted to shelter and care for her, and wanted her to care for me and shelter me. I dreamed of family and that big house on Birch Street, and growing old with her, learning all of her secrets and desires and just everything.

I returned to school revitalized. Mandy had provided me with purpose and direction. All was going better than ever before. I picked up studio time for a couple of albums of little known blues and rock and roll artists. I picked up more gig time on the bar circuit, too. I played rhythm guitar for The Wringer on Tuesdays and Wednesdays at Odd Fellas Club, while Friday and Sundays was at the Blue Room with Three Broken Strings Band. It afforded me to put away enough to increase my partner buy-in with Henry for Martin’s Music Shop. Baird’s Records and Music was flexing my hours to spend more time in management, while Archer Studios invited me to sit with a variety of producers to observe their work. It was going in the manner that my dreams had begged for, and it was all for her.

I shone at midterms. My adviser had even been surprised when I had shown up on time to our little meeting in regards to whether or not I was going to graduate on time. The music director was impressed about the studio time, then presented me with an opportunity that I knew I could not say no to. I could not wait for Thanksgiving and getting home to see Mandy. To be close to her. To be with her. It would be a solid grand to play as a fill-in for a blues outfit for the ten days during the break - two shows a day at a venue three times the size the bars I was used to playing. When I called and talked with Amada about it, she was over the moon for me. We promised each other that Christmas would be all the more special in our reunion. My roommate, Derrick, could not return home for the holiday and invited me to a dinner party to be held in our own apartment. He had rounded up a handful of misfits to enjoy a dinner that lined up with the end of the show for Thursday evening. How could I refuse? I was already walking around like I had all the breaks suddenly pulled for me and life after graduation was going to be perfect.

I came home in a haze of cigarette smoke and beer. Derrick was corralling the group, which was supposed to only be ten people, but ballooned to twenty seven bodies crammed into the living and dining room. When I walked in, it was hard not to continue that haze into a full blown feed bag of food and booze. Most of the faces around me I had known, but there were a few new ones. While I manned the sink when it was time for dish duty, a girl from the arts department was my drying partner. Her name was Georgia and she loved listening to my stories about back home, my plans, and the - according to her - swoon-worthy romance with my girl.

I managed the music while Derrick was the best host he could be the rest of the night. The morning brought my head down through a blur that held a weight on the skin of my back. I was face down on my pillow. At first, it felt like a fleeting dream of Mandy and those times that I had woken to find her all wrapped up in me and my bed and our love. But the weight that felt ghostlike in between my shoulder blades did not dissipate when I shifted. Instead, a heat was released, instantly striking into my side like a bomb. My eyes flew open to find a splash of bleach blonde hair was mingled with my own. The absolute shock that flooded every nervous system helped me to launch my body from the bed, taking the thin comforter with me.

Georgia groggily lifted her head, instantly making a face that indicated pain from a hangover. She pulled her naked body up, tucking her legs under her as she visibly struggled to figure out where she was. I panicked, fumbling in my search for my pants, coming up with nothing but her lingerie and skirt until finally, my pants close to the door. I was stuffing my legs through the fabric as she started to laugh.

She scoffed as she pushed her hair back in what seemed like an attempt to be normal. “Shit, this was a mistake.”

“No shit,” I grumbled as I struggled with the button on my fly. “What the hell happened? How the fuck…”

She laughed. Outright laughed. My stomach threatened to empty all over her as she slid from the bed to gather her clothes. She stumbled from my room, right in front of Derrick and shut herself into the bathroom. The heat that flooded my face and neck was enough to roast the sun. And then it hit. I had betrayed Mandy. I had slept with that woman and had taken every shred of trust that my love had bestowed upon me and set it on fire. The sound that burbled through my throat was foreign. And then she was gone. No other words were spoken. She left me there in my own guilt.

Josh flew to Chicago for an extended layover before getting back to school out east. I had told him that I would fetch him. I couldn’t leave my room. I could hear Derrick in the front room talking with him as I sat in the corner, eyes burning from grief. My brother sat with me while my roommate disappeared to give me space. I was heartsick. I couldn’t hide the tears. I couldn’t stop the venom for myself from spilling out between us.

Somehow, he put me back together enough to make my gigs for that night. He sat at the side of the stage, insisting that once I had myself started that things would level out - that I would be able to put things right with my Amanda. And he was right. I knew that I needed to tell her what had happened - not that I actually remembered anything. Josh left early the next day with assurances that I just needed to stay the course and keep my shit together. Mandy was everything. She knew she was everything. It was a mistake. It could be a mistake that could be lived through.

In the few weeks that flowed by between Thanksgiving and the winter holiday break, I had done just as Josh suggested. I kept my nose down, worked my ass off both in class, and at the record store and my night gigs. I kept to myself, turning down invites to go to the bars and hang out with friends beyond school.

December twentieth had rolled around. Derrick was once again manning the apartment for those who could not return home for the holidays. I set a stack of new records on the record player for him before I finished packing for my fast break from the likes of Chicago. He had drifted out with a wave on his way to work and a thanks for the music. Josh was arriving on the red eye. The plan was that I was going to pick him up and drive home - arriving in time for breakfast with the family.

It was after ten thirty when the knock came at my door. I found Georgia in the grimy hallway, disheveled and looking upset. I told her that Derrick was at work and I was on my way out to get her to go on her way.

“I’m pregnant,” she said quietly, her dark eyes filled with tears. “I’ve not been with anyone but you for months.”

Just when my heart thought it couldn’t take more, I found that it exploded out my mouth and through the top of my head. It was like all my bones were made of rubber and betrayed me in my quest to leave. The words that wanted to come out of my mouth did not. I should have questioned. I should have handled things better. Instead, I watched as my life with Amanda Fischer flew away. Everything was decided before she left. After the shock turned to a crispy mess at my edges, I knew. I was going to have to figure it all out along the way, but life was not going to be what I wanted it to be.

Josh drove us home. The moment I saw him in the airport, he knew. He professed that he knew shit had hit before he landed. His face told me that he was keenly aware that I was wrecked. We talked all through the drive. Well, I cried through it, while he assured me that it would be well. The family would throw their full support behind me. I would not fail in this.

The bottle at my side did little to make me feel like I was doing what was right. I was doing what my family expected. I would take care of this woman I did not know. I would take care of the child in her belly that she said was mine from a night that I do not remember. The disappointment that was in my father’s face was nearly as bad as the betrayal that showed in Amanda's eyes. My mother was sick with worry. The fury that she felt edged them all. I had let everyone down and now I was going to show that I could be redeemed through marrying a stranger and doing right by my child.

Chapter 2: June, 1982: Amanda POV

If you were to ask how I survived freshman year, I would simply tell you I had no choice but to bury myself in school. I landed a job in the student bookstore in February, and took a weekend shift at the public library. I deliberately shoved my brain into places it was busy so as not to have to think of anything except for the tasks before me.

I could be found in the darkest hours, cursing myself for foolish tears that would somehow appear on my cheeks. I was bleeding out. My whole world was bleeding out and I had no idea what would be left if the hurt ever vacated my system. I refused to broadcast my troubles. How weak must I have appeared walking from class to class, feeling very much like parts of me were just gone, or rotting upon my sleeve. My heartache did not keep my bosses from giving me positive feedback in my work. It did, however, keep me in the shadows of parties and study groups and anything that required me to expose my wounds and false smiles. By March, I found that every breath was not weighted. Every muscle no longer felt frozen. I found myself being able to talk to others without fumbling my words.

Jake was to be at the forefront of everything I was doing. To have my compass ripped away, tossed me into a current I was not nearly ready for. But somehow, by some microscopic miracle, I survived. I felt like I had a whole heart. It was held together with rubber cement and sticky tape, but it felt whole once more. I found myself heading out with my dorm friends to the end of the term parties and feeling a smile push its way back onto my face and words of future plans flying from my mouth like I meant them.

When it was time to return home, I hesitated. Jenni, my younger sister, said that she had seen Jake working at Martin’s Music all the way back in January. To think that he was not in school hurt. To know that he was already home, and with her on my home grounds, made me drag my feet. I had my summer jobs lined up - once again working at the grocery, but also a few days in the library. The hours would keep me fairly busy. And friends from high school had already reached out, providing a safety net of sorts in the downtime.

Home seemed smaller when I dropped my bag in the entry hall. Mom and Dad were ecstatic to see me. Jenni and Mel nearly tackled me. Home may have felt smaller, but it felt good. To have a home cooked meal and faces that I loved being so close was healing.

“Family picnic next Saturday,” dad had announced as my sisters and I were working on the dishes. “You are expected to be there.”

We rolled our eyes playfully but knew from the authority in his tone that there would be no excuses taken to miss said picnic. The week went well. I was in the bakery at the grocery store, so most of the time, I was covered in sugar and flower and a sticky hairnet, but could have the radio on as loud as I wanted and danced like I didn’t care. The library put me on the circulation desk and shelving books. It wasn’t hard, but felt like my eyes were constantly searching for any evidence that Jake was indeed still living in town. My heart struggled on both thoughts - that he did not finish school and was living in town - or maybe he decided not to follow through with his plans of partnering with Henry Martin at the music shop. Both paths were not right and picked at the drying glue beads on my heart.

Saturday started beautifully. The city park was a jewel that straddled the river, meandering lazily with sport fields and monkey bars and slides and horseshoe pits. The weather was crisp and perfect and drew out so many to enjoy the early summer day. I had found a smile. All the aunties and uncles and grandparents had ventured out to join us. Jenni and I were running around with the littlest of cousins while Mel took her spot helping Mom organize the food. I felt like a kite, bouncing between constricted fingers, ready to take off to be part of my own sky. Not that my family was holding me down, but the time was coming for me to make my own way. I could feel it in my skin as I spun little Zach around in my arms.

I was distracted by Aunt Mary for a few moments as she waved for me and Jenni to move close together for a picture. Next thing I knew, Zachary was booking it towards the riverbank just as fast as his little three year old legs could carry him. I sprinted after him, the breath heavy in my chest with the thought that I may not be fast enough. The boy’s peels of laughter shot me full of fear that he would lose his footing and fall into the fast moving water. I swooped in just before he started to turn direction. Instead of scolding though, I laughed with the boy as I lifted him up and over my shoulder in a show of play rather than fear.

We giggled and laughed as I teased him, all the while I was walking us back towards safety. He deftly shimmied his way across my back for a piggy back ride, his little hands taking hold on my shoulders and chin and neck. I felt a ray of happy strike my chest.

“Amanda?”

I stopped in my horseplay with Zach to find Jake standing with a heavily pregnant woman. He looked exhausted with dark smudges beneath his eyes. His hair had been chopped short - shorter than he had ever had it before. I of course noticed the matching gold plated bands right away on their hands with an eye that I hoped was not shocked. There was no smile on his mouth and it hurt to see the corners turning downward.

“Hello, Jake,” I managed to say in a normal voice despite my insides sloshing around like I was on rough seas. “How are you?”

“Good. Good,” he said even though the corners of his eyes pinched in the way that made me know without a doubt that things were not good. “Uh, this is Georgia.”

The woman at his side was pretty in that make-up sort of way, though she looked sour in the late term of her pregnancy. I smiled the best I could. My eyes met his gaze for a moment, but it was enough. It was like my heart flew apart at the realization that there was no joy in him - not any more. I couldn’t force any words past my lips. Fortunately, Zach must’ve picked up my unease and started to fuss against me, yanking my hair to move.

“I better get going,” I said, hoping that he did not hear the quiver in my voice. “It was good to see you Jake, Georgia.”

I took a few steps before getting Zach down so that he could run ahead of me back to the family corner. I tried my hardest to keep my shoulders strong and my back straight, but I felt like jello by the time I got to Jenni. Her eyes were trained over my shoulder as I’m sure she was watching the couple continue to walk down the path.

“I have to go,” I whispered to keep my voice from cracking.

Jenni nodded as she drew in a sharp breath. “I’ll keep you covered with the folks.”

I slithered away, out of the park to my waiting bus. The microbus didn’t want to start at first - almost as if hoping that what it saw was not Jake with another woman. The flash of memory crossed my mind of my first time with Jake in the back of the vehicle I sat in. The way he had held me, took care of me. He may not have been my first, but he damn sure made it feel like he was going to be my last. I gulped as I backed the bus up and made my escape. The feel of his hands echoed across my body as I fought to keep in a jagged sob. The words that he whispered as he worshiped my skin punched and kicked in my belly as my vision blurred.

I missed second gear as I shifted, the engine giving a jolt over my mistake. It was enough to rattle me back to what I was doing. The tears were hot on my flesh as I rushed to wipe at them. Home felt like a dollhouse as I parked the bus and tumbled through the door. I discovered that my shared room with Jenni was little more than a little girl’s fantasy. Her unbroken, full of wonder heart’s pixie dust and magical dreams etched into every inch of walls, carpet and ceiling. It resided in every book, every poster, every piece of art. My feet carried me right to the bookcase. Jenni had covered it with one of her cowgirl hats, but the journal was there - untouched, unmoved from when I had laid it to rest at Christmas. The dark navy cover with little imprinted silver stars called out for my fingers to reach up and retrieve it.

The corner of my mouth flinched as the cover popped and the spine cracked as if in warning of what I was about to see. Its pages were filled with little girl desires, goals, plans. Words wrapped in shakily drawn hearts and clouds as she wrote out her deepest events with Jake. There were pictures and mementos and sketches and memories of a forever that would never happen.

A picture drifted to the floor. The sound of his laugh filled my ears as I bent to pick it up. He wore those short red swim trunks that day with a baseball hat, his hair sticking out from beneath it in all different directions. We spent the whole day on the river, tubing, just the two of us. It was the first time he had said he wanted me… He wanted me that way. He had been lost in thought, playing with my fingers and he just said it. No smile. No laugh. No nothing but the words and the weight that followed felt like he had captured me like a butterfly, so careful not to bend my wings. He was beautiful in that moment. He was a man giving me a glimpse of a life that I so desperately wanted with him and him only.

I was surprised that I was no longer crying as I traced the line of his arm in the picture. I puffed out a breath like I was blowing out stale air from the attic. I tucked the picture back into the diary and returned it to its resting place. It was a little girl’s refuge and would stay that way. These were memories of a better time and I just needed to accept what was instead of what could be. The exhaustion of the moment pressed down on me and I was ready to release it. I could say goodbye to Jake. I would say goodbye to Jake.

Jake POV

The day had started just as every other day had since everything had so drastically changed. Instead of waking up in my tiny assed room in the shared tiny assed apartment with Derrick, I woke up in my tiny assed room in the shared tiny assed apartment with Georgia. I was able to procure the living space above the accounting office downtown. Of course, Mr. Moser, the accountant, was a total prick about everything. Walk across the floor any time during office hours could result in a call that we were being too loud. School was done - for both of us. A fact that I was reminded of often. I was working my ass off, sometimes finding that I was ‘home’ for six hours or less at any given stretch. Mr. Henry was happy to let me come on full time right away at the music shop. I also picked up weekend shifts at the papermill. It still wasn’t enough to cover the medical bills, so I also was a substitute night janitor at the school. I was lucky to sit a few minutes before each stretch of job.

The pregnancy had not been an easy one. Most days, Georgia could only go between the bed to the gross couch I was able to lift off my parents from the garage, to the bathroom. Most days, her mood was foul, so me being at work all the time was not totally a bad thing. Maybe a selfish thing, but not bad.

I married her the second week of January. Mom was beyond pissed and Dad was disappointed. Georgia had no ties to her family. She did not have any friends that attended the services, either. Josh was worried. Ronnie and Sam were baffled. And I was in mourning. But I was doing what was right. I was going to provide a home and family for this child that was to be mine. I could be that man - that man that took responsibility for his shit. There was no love in this relationship. Some days, I wondered if there was any respect to it. Minute by minute could be a struggle. The arguments were steady with her lamenting that she was no better than her mother - she’d wind up stupid with a horde of kids she hated and a man…

She often stopped short at that part. I would be gone before she could finish the sentiment anyway. I was not one of those men and she damn well knew it. The doctor suggested that she needed to move to ease the stress on her body. I had taken to walking with her when I had time between jobs. Saturday mornings before I had to get over to Martin’s for a few lessons, followed by my twelve hour shift at the mill was one of the few times that I could walk her through the park.

With the end of the school year, I knew that I would have to address the fact that Mandy would be returning home. I would have to acknowledge the wound that was refusing to heal within my chest. I was in no shape to see her dancing with her cousin in the sunshine that morning. I flew apart at my seams the moment my eyes landed on her.

Mandy was the kind of beautiful that I could read like a song title, with notes that were delicate and fierce and… And there she was before me. Her raven hair tied back in a thick, glossy braid, with little stray wisps that kissed around her neck and face. To hear the twinkle of her laugh filled my skin with an energy that I had been desperate for. The instant pain that flickered through her features clawed open the flimsy stitches on my soul.

Georgia felt it - the hard gravitational pull that Amanda had upon me. I was sure of it. Her body was instantly rigid and her breath was tight. It was not lost on me that she said not a word to Mandy after I introduced her. By the time we got home, she was spewing venom the likes I had never seen. Instead of feeling shame, it was rage that blurred in my vision.

“You cannot seriously think that I can just not feel anything,” I said, my voice foreign to my ears as I hissed each syllable. “You know what she was supposed to be - what she should be - for me.”

Georgia’s eyes bulged with a sickening glare. “Then I guess you shouldn’t have fucked me!”

The words were screamed across the entire downtown. I was sure of it. It was her favorite bite when she felt like she was cornered. My fault. I did this to her. Maybe I did, but I wasn’t the only one in that bed. The only reprieve with this argument was that at least it was Saturday and Mr. Moser wouldn’t be calling the cops on us this time. Instead of watching her spiral out of control while my brain bit back words that were cruel, I merely grabbed my keys and walked out.

I dug in my pocket for change that wasn’t there. It would be a long day without food in my belly. I pushed into Martin’s back door, shoving my smelly coveralls for the mill into the locker that Henry had gotten me, along with my keys and slammed the door with a huff. I could feel my world crumbling further as the man that I called mentor looked me over. He pointed at the office door while he finished up with a customer at the counter. My heart sank. Henry was one of those people that most wished for to be part of your life. Martin’s music had been a refuge while I was growing up. Dad and I would spend hours within its walls, playing, messing around, searching for whatever caught our eye. Henry and Dad were good friends, but as I grew, I found that the man filled all those voids that I felt when I was around anyone else. By the time I was fourteen, I realized I wanted to be him when I grew up.

Stepping into the small office that was crammed with filing cabinets and boxes, I poured myself a cup of tar that Henry called coffee. I didn’t mind though. It would at least be something in my stomach. I looked over the schedule, noting that my one o’clock had been canceled - again. I grumbled. I got paid regardless, but honestly, how I could be considered intimidating was beyond me.

“Bad day,” Henry said as he closed the door behind him.

I blew out a breath when I really just wanted to bury my face and cry. Henry patted my shoulder as he moved around me. He balanced his long frame against the edge of the old desk, arms folded across his chest. The look in his face made all my upset that much worse.

“I’m sorry I came in like this, Henry,” I said, wiping my fingers across my forehead.

“I think it’s time to talk about the partnership agreement,” he remarked, his lips pursed.

Oh hell no…

I felt everything rush to my feet. The deal was that I would graduate, buy into the partnership and in five years, take over the business.

“I know things haven’t been going well,” he continued, giving me a knowing look that I’m sure was supposed to be comforting but instead felt like it was my cue to panic. “I’ve talked things over with Ada and we agree that the partnership that we thought we could have needs to be revised.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled out as I tried to find where my heartbeat had gone. “Henry, I - I just don’t have the money to buy-in right now. All my gig cash got eaten up first and now it’s just… I just don’t have it… I didn’t mean-”

One of his bear paw sized hands came down on my shoulder, his face a mix of upset and concern. “Whoa, Jake. Slow down.”

“No, this is not how it’s supposed to be, Henry,” I choked out across my tightening throat. “I get it. I’m trying to get there. I’ll do anything to keep up with my end of the plan. It’s everything -”

I couldn’t breathe. The man gripped my shoulder as grief and panic conquered my entire body. The rattle and bang of the office door sent me to hiding my face.

“What did you do, Henry?” Ada’s strong tone was instantly defensive as her hand fell to my empty shoulder.

“I just said that we needed to talk about our partnership,” the man said softly, his hand rubbing into the thin sleeve of my t-shirt. “Jake. Come on, son. It’s okay.”

“Jacob,” she soothed, hugging my head into her torso. “Come on, baby. It’ll be okay. It’s not bad. Just my stupid husband’s inability to read the room.”

Once the emotions were let loose, I couldn’t drag them back. Everything was flooding out of me - from the fight with Georgia, to seeing Mandy, from all the mistakes and all the loss, it all just washed out of me and I was helpless to stop it. And these two lovely people who I considered second parents let it happen. Let me cry like a damn child over a broken toy. But they held me. They must’ve realized that they had become my glue that was holding me together.

Ada was quick with a glass of water and tissues while Henry frowned as if he was trying to piece together what was going on. These two were never able to have their own kids. I was among the multitudes that they had unofficially adopted as their own - but Ada always said that I was the one she would fight to bring me home. Mom would just cackle and offer me up. Something that Mom missed was the drift of sadness that invaded Mrs. Ada’s eyes whenever that phrase was uttered.

“I didn’t mean to lose it like that,” I said as I wiped at my face. “I’m sorry you two. It’s just everything I wanted to do is just gone.”

“That’s why I wanted to talk about the partnership,” Henry remarked, taking his seat behind the desk. “It’s time to maybe restructure it - you’ve got a baby coming. We need to make sure everything works here, okay? I think I have a few ideas-”

“You mean we, Henry - we have a few ideas,” Ada said sharply with a pat to my arm.

He might’ve rolled his eyes dramatically, but the smile was there. I felt my body return to normal. A wisp of strength returned to my burning lungs as Henry and Ada outlined their ideas to keep things moving forward - taking a little bit of extra time before I took full ownership, but if I wanted it, Martin’s could still be mine. The plan was enough to carry me through the rest of the day. Ada showed up with a plate before I had to leave for the mill. She grumbled that I was working myself to death. I left with a smile - something that had been elusive as of late.

I dragged myself home. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to fight. I was near crawling as I took to the stairs outside of the apartment. As I jingled the key in the lock, for a moment, I hesitated. I wondered if Georgia would still be inside. There were no ties to her other than the baby. She had nobody other than myself to keep her here. If I admitted to myself, I looked forward to meeting my child, loving them, sheltering them. Perhaps it would be the catalyst to love for the wife I barely knew. I knew there would be no love like what I still harbored for Mandy, but at the very least, have some semblance of a marriage.

The apartment was silent when I entered. I dropped my keys in the dish at the door and kicked out of my boots. Once I stripped out of the coveralls, I lit a smoke before I headed towards the shower. My eyes passed over the empty counter of the kitchen and the bare walls of the space. The bedroom door was still closed and I decided not to look inside for her. I did not need to be screamed at so early in the morning. Instead, I let the shower penetrate my skin, washing away the harshness that Georgia had laid into me hours before. A stray thought of how good Mandy had looked until I had to open my mouth to force her to look at me flashed across my consciousness. The conflict struck my heart and stayed there.

I stood in the kitchen with a piece of bread with peanut butter smeared across it when Georgia slowly made her presence known. I had made a pot of coffee but could only stare at it. I was too damn tired to wash out the only mug in the apartment. I was waiting for her words to slam into my head and tear me down to the floor. Her silence made my skin prickle with anger. All I could do was hope that perhaps she did not see the reaction.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry about earlier. I was out of line.”

I could feel my eyebrows pinch together in confusion. Looking at her, how she held her hands under her swollen belly like she was already holding our baby, she looked lovely in her own way. The tiredness of her eyes made me drop my guard.

“You have to understand that I did not expect to see her yesterday,” I said softly.

“She’s everything you said she would be,” Georgia sighed as she leaned against the counter next to me. “Maybe more. I think that’s why I reacted to the situation like that. Made me realize a few things.”

I couldn’t say anything. Her dark eyes shimmered in the low light of the morning. I shoved the rest of my peanut butter bread into my face to settle my quivering stomach.

“I know you’re killing yourself to keep us afloat, Jake,” she whispered. “It won’t always be like this.”

I looked at her as I filled a glass with water. “I know. You doing better this morning?”

“Just ready for this baby to be here, I think,” she muttered as her hands swirled around the top of her belly. “Been super active all night. Going to be bouncy, I think. Kind of like you.”

I couldn’t help but smile. She beckoned me for my hand and I obliged as she took my wrist and guided my fingers to where the baby was kicking and moving. My child. No matter what - that was love. Love waiting to be brought into the world. It was what I clung to when the woman before me slung me full of arrows and venom.

I pressed my fingers against what felt like the crest of a tiny knee and was rewarded with a hard thump. I couldn’t help the smile that split my lips, nor the soft chuckle that rode out on my breath.

“I’ve got to get to bed,” I replied as I continued to wonder at the life within her tummy. “I’ve got to be back to the mill by noon.”

Georgia nodded. I noticed the corners of her mouth tightened.

“Why don’t you come lay down with me,” I said softly, my eyes lifting to hers.

She nodded as I slipped my hand into hers to guide her along. I slid into the small, double sized bed and waited for her to get comfortable on her side before I formed myself against her, my hand searching for the connection to our baby once more. It was not love. It was not love that I felt for her in moments like this, but at least it was comfort. She could be kind. I could return that kindness. I fell into a sleep under the rhythmic kick of my baby and the soft breathing of my wife.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

I hope you enjoy the story so far. I’ll be back next Wednesday with another two chapters. I will continue to warn that there is heavier angst ahead, and just be aware of your limits. Next week will be tough.

I have a tag list if you would like to join, or you can just reply to this or message me.

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @streamingcolors-gvf @gretavanbitches @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatchercarol @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @reesetrippingthelight @builtby-gvf @ignite-my-fire @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @wetkleenex-gvf @gold-mines-melting @starsasone @mysticalstarcatcher @montenegroisr @takenbythemadness @way-to-go-lad @cal-a-bungaa @lightmylove-gvf @thewritingbeforesunrise @leftjudgeempathsuitcase @brokenbells11 @imborrowedshesblue @vanfleeter @sammysvanfeet @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @jaketlove @redsierra1960 @gvfmarge @becinabubblegvf @wildbluesorbit @sinarainbows @livkiszka @thetroublegetssoloud71

#jake gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka fan fic #greta van fleet au #gvf au #greta van fleet fan fic #jake kiszka au #best laid plans

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grits-galraisedinthesouth · 1 year

Text

Worldwide Privacy Tour Part 2, it seems, is well underway.

"Yes, the night was pure Meghan Markle: A manufactured build-up of anticipation, a highly dramatic entrance afforded no other actual activist — Meghan climbed on stage to the Alicia Keys she-ro anthem ‘Girl on Fire’ — and then... a whole lot of nothing...This crowd was checking their watches."

"If anything, as the night dragged on and the event slipped an hour behind schedule – a sudden break announced so we could finally have dinner – the crowd bristled...Notably, not one person I spoke to nor one speaker or honoree mentioned Meghan. Not one said how exciting it was to have her there. Not one expressed the slightest curiosity at what she’d have to say."

"And this image, our renegade duchess without a palace-worthy advance team to prevent such cheap optics as the Hertz hiccup, set the tone for the evening: Fatuous, irrelevant, high on its own self-regard, all sense of purpose lost. Gloria Steinem, once the face of women’s rights, reduced to star-f***ery. It was a bizarre night."

MAUREEN CALLAHAN: Meghan's word-salad Manhattan gala appearance

She so badly wants to be the Queen of Hearts.

But, as she arrived on Tuesday night, making her grand entrance in Midtown Manhattan, sauntering past that rental-car backdrop, it was more like the Queen of Hertz.

Of course, as the world is now all too aware, Meghan Markle capped off winning a meaningless award with what we’re told was a ‘near catastrophic’, ‘two-hour’ car chase through the streets of Manhattan.

Yes, according to a spokesperson, Meghan, along with hapless Harry and mom Doria, were the subjects of a wild, impassioned hunt by the paparazzi.

Some sympathetic commentators have already made the gruesome comparisons to Princess Diana’s tragic final fate.

But to echo the statements made by New York City’s own mayor Eric Adams and the police department: Perhaps it didn’t quite happen the way it was painted.

Recollections may vary.

Naturally, their mouthpiece Omid Scobie is whining that no one from the Palace has yet reached out.

Wonder why?

One also wonders what Gloria Steinem, the 89-year-old feminist icon who chose to honor Meghan as a ‘Woman of Vision’ at Tuesday night’s Ms. Foundation Gala, must be thinking now.

After all, the car ‘chase’ debacle soon stole all the thunder from her event, which I was lucky enough to witness first-hand.

Now, it was hardly the red carpet one might expect. Hardly the pomp and circumstance of, say, a coronation.

Yet Meghan forged ahead as she always does, as if this were her crowning moment, sheathed in gold as if to symbolize a crown.

Or an Oscar statuette.

Same difference, really, if your only goal is fame. That’s our Meghan, none too subtle as ever, literally going for the gold as Harry and Doria took their positions three steps behind.

Harry may be a prince of the blood, but never forget — Meghan is The Star. Her Norma Desmond-ing is among the great spectacles of our modern age.

And this image, our renegade duchess without a palace-worthy advance team to prevent such cheap optics as the Hertz hiccup, set the tone for the evening: Fatuous, irrelevant, high on its own self-regard, all sense of purpose lost. Gloria Steinem, once the face of women’s rights, reduced to star-f***ery. It was a bizarre night.

Upon entering the Zeigfeld Ballroom, guests were asked whether they were ‘VIP’ — seems even feminist movements have their echelons — and turfed to the lobby.

My $1,500 entry-level ticket got me a hard seat with a front-row view of coat check.

After ten minutes, circumstances having changed inexplicably, the riff-raff were allowed up to the second floor.

Here were two open bars serving top-shelf liquor and the shock of post-pandemic dress code slovenliness. One unkempt guest was wearing sparkly Birkenstock sandals and a black stretchy minidress under a pink puffer jacket.

These were the VIPs?

The only recognizable person I saw was Peloton instructor Ally Love, and that’s saying something. Where were the stars? Where were the notables of the movement? The Malalas? The Fondas? The Beyoncés?

Perhaps no one was meant to outshine Meghan. Only one feminist icon was going to enter via rental car office!

Down in the ballroom, the plated salads on our banquet tables were ready waiting for us – dry, unsightly, stringy greens that resembled nothing so much as regurgitated hairballs. Notably, not one person I spoke to nor one speaker or honoree mentioned Meghan.

Not one said how exciting it was to have her there. Not one expressed the slightest curiosity at what she’d have to say.

If anything, as the night dragged on and the event slipped an hour behind schedule – a sudden break announced so we could finally have dinner – the crowd bristled.

It says something when a table of size-6 women tear into their heavily glazed steak and buttery mashed potatoes with abandon.

Yes, the night was pure Meghan Markle: A manufactured build-up of anticipation, a highly dramatic entrance afforded no other actual activist — Meghan climbed on stage to the Alicia Keys she-ro anthem ‘Girl on Fire’ — and then... a whole lot of nothing.

Verbiage and word salad that were content-free, except when speaking on her favorite subject: herself.

Here, in real time, we observed Meghan’s inability to read a room. She thanked the ‘other honorees’ without naming them.

‘Congratulations,’ she said, ‘and frankly, well deserved.’

It was all so smug and supercilious, this glorified podcaster telling these boots-on-the-ground activists — no matter what one thinks of their politics — that they had, in fact, earned their place on the same stage as the great Meghan Markle. That ‘frankly’ was so typical. It was meant to redound to Meghan’s benefit, as the lone wolf daring to speak the unspeakable.

There was the cringe-inducing humblebrag, calling her new friend Gloria ‘Glo’.

It brought to mind the forced intimacy of meeting Kate Middleton barefoot and insisting that the pair share lip gloss.

It's 'Glo' to Meghan, but Meghan is 'Duchess' to us.

‘We all bear witness,’ Meghan continued of her fellow honorees, ‘to you standing in elegance and the power of your strength.’

Huh?

This crowd was not convinced. This crowd was checking their watches. There were trains to catch, children to kiss goodnight. Alas, we were stuck with the vapidity of La Markle.

Her speech didn’t even deliver fresh content! She repeated the story, as told on her podcast, of poor little Meghan coming home from school to her TV dinner, cat collars and copies of Ms. Magazine strewn about courtesy of her mother — even though it’s well-documented that her father primarily raised her.

‘Having these pages in our home,’ she went on, ‘. . . signaled to me that there was so much more than the dolled-up covers and those images that you would see on the grocery store covers. It signaled to me that substance mattered.’

Says the former D-list actress and former briefcase game-show girl who used her looks to get ahead. Who has posed for those very same magazine covers.This warmed-over speech, less heated than our steaks, was Meghan’s greatest hits:

‘Change is just one action away.’

‘You can be the visionary of your own life.’

‘Daily acts of service, in kindness, in advocacy, in grace and in fairness.’

‘The imprints that were forged in my mind — I can now connect the dots in a much better way to understand how I became a young feminist and evolved into a grown activist.’

A feminist who, let us not forget, has publicly demonized her famous sister-in-law — ‘Waity Katie’ to Oprah and an audience of millions.

Kate made me cry! WAAAGH!

In truth, Meghan's a self-identified 'grown activist' who has done nothing. The pontification, her sing-song-y cadence as she luxuriated in her own praise, was as insufferable as it was revealing.

‘Ms.’ she said, ‘was formative in [my] cocooning. It piqued my curiosity, and it became the chrysalis for the woman that I would become and that I am today.’

Right: The woman who vilified the institution headed-up by Queen Elizabeth II in her final years. The woman who heavily alleged institutional racism until her husband finally backed away from that terrible smear.

A woman with no substance and no accomplishments as a feminist. A woman who is still trying to one-up the royals, even from a car-park adjacent ballroom with no red carpet. Meghan is the personification of Ms. as an organization that has lost its way.

Indeed, most of the night was spent advocating not for women but for trans rights and Critical Race Theory.

‘Abortion is racist,’ we were told.

Beware the ‘the white supremacist patriarchal system.’

Yes, even the Ms. Foundation – established for biological women out of a deep, and enduring, necessity – has been subsumed by men who identify as women.

How fitting then that the night was overshadowed by a grasping phony whose empty platitudes on stage failed to make headlines, whose spokesperson told a wild story of a high-stakes car chase.

Pity Meghan, but recognize her strength. Admire her, but never laugh at her. And never, ever question her veracity.

Worldwide Privacy Tour Part 2, it seems, is well underway.

#worldwide privacy tour #waaagh #megxit #fraud and fraudess #jussie smollett #maureen callahan #ms #gloria steinem #hertz #hertz dress #hertz so bad #sparry #word salad #low rent #participation trophies #participation awards #south park

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cheesy09 · 6 months

Text

[CN] Kiro's 2023 Birthday Prequel

🌸 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for content that hasn't been released on the EN server yet! 🌸

[Note: This prequel was translated with the help of Google Translate :>]

[Chapter 1: Returned Treasure]

After turning the key into the keyhole twice, the door was pushed open.

"Take a look at it first, Kiro. If you want to buy additional furniture and appliances, just let me know."

Accompanied by the man's words, Kiro walked through the entrance hall, a bit of deliberate curiosity in his blue eyes as he looked at the new residence that the company had arranged for him.

The living room was very spacious, enough to place a lot of music equipment.

The kitchen was L-shaped, and the aisles were neither wide nor narrow. There was a refrigerator, oven and other high-end appliances built into the wall cabinets. There was only one thing missing - a microwave.

For a "killer cook", it could almost be considered one of the greatest inventions in the world.

But he didn't want to trouble the unfamiliar man in front of him, so he nodded deceptively and walked towards the bedroom. But as soon as he stepped through the door, he frowned.

Although the sun was shining brightly in the sky, the room was extremely dark, and the white bed and wardrobe in his field of vision were covered with a layer of gloomy gray.

The instigator behind this was a drab building standing next door. The walls looked like cracked skin, mottled and old.

The man seemed to have noticed something and said softly, "It's disturbing being blocked by this building, isn't it? But it will be demolished soon."

"Disturbing?"

The subconscious rhetorical question made the man stunned, but he quickly reacted and showed two rows of big white teeth.

"Hey, is this a northern dialect? How should I explain it..."

"When something makes you feel uncomfortable and upset, we call it disturbing..." As if he found it hard to describe at once, the other party started to make gestures.

Kiro listened quietly while observing the man with thick eyebrows and big eyes in front of him. An hour ago, he had introduced himself in the pick-up hall --

Savin, a manager of B.S. Entertainment and the one responsible for his acting arrangements in Loveland City in the future.

He'd heard this information from Pen a long time ago, but he still wasn't sure whether the other party was a member of B.S. But it didn't matter. There would always be more than one pair of eyes lurking around him.

Therefore, he took Savin's words very naturally.

"Haha - so that's what it meant. It's okay, Savin, I'm not disturbed."

The casual form of address made Savin stunned for a moment, and his eyes softened. "You must know that we Northeasterners can easily take away people's accents. You should learn less, don't be afraid of using your usual Californian accent..."

Savin paused and handed the key in his hand to Kiro.

"Also... I know you've just returned to China, and you must be uncomfortable with everything."

"Food, accent, residence... including the people. But all of this is temporary. I believe you'll find your own rhythm here soon."

Under Savin's sincere gaze, Kiro also nodded solemnly.

"Okay, how about this for today? I'll leave first. You have a good rest. I'll see you at the company tomorrow."

Savin walked out as he spoke. The moment he closed the door, another sentence was hurriedly squeezed in, "If you need anything, please call me at any time!"

Bang - the door was shut.

Kiro finally breathed a sigh of relief and turned around to walk to the suitcase he brought back from California - one which was filled with souvenirs he'd collected over the years.

He touched the box and smiled, then walked around again before finally opening an inconspicuous low cabinet and putting it inside.

This was the "treasure" he hid, and the keyhole could only be accessed by one person.

"Hey, I'm back with the treasure box. I hope I can find you soon."

[Chapter 2: Tiny Light]

--8:30 a.m.

A sharp ringing sounded throughout the bedroom.

"Mm..."

Accompanied by a vague voice, a slender arm stretched out from under the quilt. It followed it's owner's will and groped around the bed, but as it fumbled, it grew impatient. It kept swatting at the bedside like a gopher until the world became quiet, and an unknown amount of time had passed.

The man who had been dreaming suddenly opened his eyes, looking around in panic and confusion. However, in his misty vision, there was only a tiny cluster of light huddled pitifully in the corner, secretly confusing time, making it impossible to distinguish between day and night.

Kiro had no choice but to pick up his phone and take a look -- 8:38 a.m.

"......"

He helplessly rubbed his messy blond hair, walked to the window with bare feet, and pulled the already open curtains wider to both sides. However, the light only spread a little symbolically, illuminating half of the floor.

--It seemed a little disturbing.

He frowned and inadvertently stepped into the sunlight.

The thin light could only illuminate half of his body, but the corners that were illuminated were dazzling enough. He subconsciously squinted his eyes and followed the trajectory, all the way out of the dilapidated building next door. After that, he saw the endless flow of vehicles and the small crows of people going back and forth.

At this moment, Kiro's heart seemed to open up.

There was nice whether today.

--9:30 a.m. B.S. Entertainment Conference Room

"Kiro, although you've just returned to China, you should rest for a while to adjust yourself."

"But there haven't been many domestic entertainment resources recently, and everyone has be rushing to grab them, so we should seize this opportunity."

Savin picked up a stack of papers and handed them to Kiro, "If you continue to focus on your music, your development will become more rigid, so the company has secured some film and television audition opportunities for you."

"We can't just be singers, we need to become famous superstars."

Upon hearing that, Kiro knew that this had been the decision taken up by B.S. After all, only by expanding his influence in all directions would it be easier to do things for them. But he wasn't put-off. He knew very well that only by constantly broadening his own path, would he be able to take the initiative into his own hands sooner.

"Alright, Savin. I just have one question." He flipped through the audition details in the file. "When will the auditions start and how much time do I have to prepare?"

Kiro's calmness made Savin laugh and adjust the watch on his wrist slightly.

"Two o'clock in the afternoon. There's an audition for a sports commercial."

"Okay, I'll get ready now."

[Chapter 3: Good at Joy and Happiness]

In just a month, Kiro's success rate in auditions was nearly 75%. But when Savin reviewed the results, he frowned, "Strange... why did the auditions for movies and TV series fail?"

A trace of frustration flashed in Kiro's eyes, "I'll continue working hard. Please give me some time."

After a moment, Savin spoke in a deep voice, "Don't worry, this isn't something you have to work hard on alone. I'll find you a professional acting teacher. It's okay. There's no need to rush for success. We still have time and opportunities."

With that said, he took out his cell phone and walked out, until a polite greeting came from the corridor.

The next day, Kiro was already in the garden of the lecturer's home--

"Hello, Mr. Chen. My name's Kiro."

He nodded slightly and looked at the man sitting on the wooden chair.

It was easy to tell from the drooping wrinkles on the other person's face that he was already a bit old, but his sharp eyes made him appear to be in high spirits.

"Mm, Savin told me everything."

"But before we start with the class, tell me, what do you think acting is?"

Kiro stayed silent for a while before considering his answer.

"Acting to me... is about interpreting different lives."

"That's half right, but it's more accurate to continue living these different lives." The teacher raised his eyebrows, "Although the characters in the scripts are fictitious, and the plot is also fictitious, most of them come from real life."

"In the corners you can't see, and to the people you can't see, ever-changing things happen every day. Actors are there to live these lives again."

Hearing this, Kiro seemed to vaguely understand what the teacher meant - "deduction" and "experience" seemed to be two different things.

But before he could continue to digest it, the teacher undid the folds on his pants and said, "That's all. Let's do some imagination and sensitivity training."

"Now, close your eyes and imagine that you're walking in a forest. The grass is soft and the sound of the stream is in your ears. But you also hear the rustling sounds coming from the grass in the distance. What do you think is there?"

"A rabbit..." Kiro closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips.

"Then, what do you want to do?"

Kiro couldn't help but hold his breath, and stepped forward more slowly. He groped his way to the grass and squatted down, "Hey... would you like to come into my arms and play for a while?"

As he spoke, he opened his arms and waited quietly. It wasn't until his body suddenly froze that he carefully retracted his arms, as if he were really picking up a rabbit... Then, he tilted his head and raised his right hand gently.

Caressing down.

"Hello, I'm Kiro."

Unconsciously, the teacher's voice also became much softer, "After playing with you for a while, the rabbit suddenly ran into the bushes."

"....!"

A hint of panic appeared on Kiro's face. He placed his palms on the ground and leaned down to search.

"You've been looking for it for a long time, but you haven't found any trace of it..."

He was silent for a while, then curled his lips in relief, "It's okay, we'll definitely meet again next time."

"Very good, remember this feeling now." The teacher's voice could not hide his excitement, "You did not follow the public's logic to express your loss, but followed your true feelings. Those are the feelings you want, remember?"

Before he finished speaking, a sharp cry passed through the sky--

Kiro subconsciously closed his eyes and raised his head. At the same time, the teacher also spoke vigorously, "There's a Swift flying across the sky right now!"

"Swift..?"

"Yes, it's a bird that flies all its life."

"Because of their body structure, it's difficult for them to take off once they stop, so they only stop on branches to rest."

"Do you want to keep flying?"

The teacher smiled lightly, "Since we're curious about it, let's go and see its life."

"Now imagine that you are it. Your body is very light, and countless sceneries pass your feet. You just watch them from winter to spring, from dry to blooming, never stopping."

Kiro gently opened his arms. Under the guidance of the teacher, his arms gradually became sore, as if there were thousands of pounds of stones pressing on them.

"You'll also grow tired during this period. Looking at every corner of the city, there is no resting place for you to take off again."

Kiro suddenly felt uncomfortable. He found that he and the Swift were very similar.

They have always been on the road. Although there had been very beautiful places to sing and see along the way, when they said goodbye again, they would be greeted by an endless flight.

But--

"It doesn't matter, I can persist."

Kiro said in his heart.

"I'll keep flying until I find a place where I can rest peacefully and then stop."

[Chapter 4: First Show of Strength]

After repeated training, Kiro became more empathetic.

Even with the scorching sun above his head, he could be so cold that he would tremble all over, huddled in a corner waiting for the snow mountaineering team; or he could stand on flat ground, but there could be an abyss beneath his feet, making him feel dizzy, struggling hard on the edge of the cliff.

His heart was now able to deceive his eyes and brain with ease.

"Kiro, Kiro!"

Kiro, who had just finished training, saw Savin running towards him in a hurry, holding a suit of armor and carrying a red tassel gun.

"What is this, Savin?"

"The actor playing the young Sun Ce in "Three Kingdoms", temporarily broke the contract due to scheduling issues, so we're going to audition now."

"Three Kingdoms?"

"You must know that this is a production worth hundreds of millions. If you can get this role, it would be better than acting in ten other unknown works."

Savin shook the armor as he spoke, causing the fine dust covering it to sway. "Ahem! This is a costume taken from the company's warehouse. Let's make do with it for now."

"If your mixed-race looks go directly for the auditions, you'll definitely suffer a big loss, so let's take care of your hair first before going over." He took out a black wig from the helmet and quickly combed it with his fingers, "We can't miss out on the wig and contact lenses..."

Savin's rare rushed appearance made Kiro confused, so when he saw that the wig was about to cover him, he subconsciously tilted his head to avoid it.

"Savin, what is the Three Kingdoms? Why do I have to wear these? Do I need to act in a costume film?

"You kid..! Have you heard of the Four Great Classics? Do you know the romance of the Three Kingdoms? That's the story in it."

"I've heard of it, but I haven't even read the scripts, so can I just go directly to the auditions?" Before he finished speaking, the hairband was placed on Kiro's head with lightning speed.

"You can't control that much. Just try it."

After getting his hair done, Savin picked up the armor and put it on for him, one by one. At that moment, the teacher who had been sitting on the wooden chair also slowly said, "I remember you said that your dream when you were a child was to be a superhero. Now I tell you, Sun Ce is also a hero. So it doesn't matter if you don't know his life, just remember that he is a a hero who is not afraid of anything."

These words began to play in Kiro's mind over and over again, until he arrived at the shooting scene with Savin. The director improvised an audition topic--

"You are now fighting a battle with less to win more, but because you have no escape, you are fearless."

Along with his words, flags were flying on the distant city wall, and wolf smoke was also billowing. Kiro looked at all of it this, and his heart remained very calm. Although he didn't know what the Three Kingdoms was about, he knew what a hero was.

The next second, he walked to a white horse, holding a red tassed gun in his hand, and jumped on it.

The workers around him were hurriedly moving their filming equipment, but in Kiro's ears, he could hear the sound of horns roaring, and the sound of thousands of horse hooves trampling behind him.

At that moment, Kiro was convinced that he was on the battlefield.

Amidst a horse's cry that pierced the sky, he loosened his reins and galloped forward, riding into the wolf smoke that was about to engulf the world. There were only a bunch of red tassels, as bright as a torch. Even the beacon of fire in the sky couldn't annihilate it, as if it were soaring into the sky.

--"All officers and men, listen to my order and join me on the battlefield."

[Chapter 5: Forgotten Birthday]

He got the role of Sun Ce. In addition to receiving congratulations from all around, he also heard some nasty remarks--

"A mixed-race guy with blond hair and blue eyes wants to play a famous historical figure. Isn't there something fishy about this?"

It would be a lie to say he didn't care, but Kiro also knew the distance between himself and Sun Ce. He began to frequent the library and borrowed one history book after another, but found that the words were concise and difficult to understand. He ran to ask Savin and found that they were classical Chinese texts, written articles in ancient Chinese.

He had no choice but to borrow another classical Chinese dictionary and compare it word by word. After a long time, in his dreams, he would be wearing a robe and looking at a bottle of Coke that was as tall as a human being, shaking its head and saying something.

"Ran, ran."

But due to the language barrier, coke was sprayed all over him, which made him wake up.

There were many such interesting things, which made him enjoy the learning. But the more he got to know Sun Ce, the more Kiro discovered that in his eyes, this man could not completely be called a hero. He was just forced to be involved in the mud of history, especially since the death of his father. How many decisions had he made, and how many goals did he really want to achieve?

With that mentality, the filming of the scene about the young Sun Ce began--

"Kiro, isn't the helmet a little tight? But it's too late to customize it. Please bear with me."

"It's okay, director. This is nothing to me."

"Kiro, there are some risks in this fight scene. If you can't adapt, we can find a substitute."

"...I think if I do it myself, the effect will be better."

In addition to constant contact with the filming scene, the director would also patiently point how people in ancient times spoke, behaved, and pronounced.

It's just that there were so many things to learn. So whenever the filming ended, he would sit in a corner alone and watch and learn.

Days like this went on and on. Then one day, a small change occurred--

"Happy Birthday, Kiro! I got this on the internet."

At that moment, the director who had been looking at the storyboard also heard the sound and put down what he was holding, "Kiro, happy birthday."

"....."

"Why are you just blinking and not talking? Is it because you were so lost during filming that you don't even remember your birthday?" The director teased, then raised his hand to look at the time and called for the makeup artist to come over.

"Time is tight. Take him to put on his makeup first."

Kiro didn't say anything more and left with the makeup artist.

But on the way, he took out his mobile phone as if to confirm--

April 9th. He was so busy that he had forgotten about it.

[Chapter 6: Stopped Swift]

"Okay, cut! This fight scene was great!"

"Would you like to do it again? There were a few movements I could've done better..."

The director smiled and waved his hand, "No, I liked the energy you had just now. Not ruthless, just high-spirited. And isn't it your birthday today? Go back quickly."

"It's okay, director. I want to stay for a while to observe and learn."

Kiro shook his head quickly. There was a highlight today and he didn't want to miss the confrontation between "Zhuge Liang" and "Sima Yi".

"It's okay. Don't think about it, your friends and family are all waiting to surprise you." The director deliberately frowned, half-pushed Kiro, and asked him to leave the set.

After taking off his armor, Kiro walked lightly on the crowded streets. At that moment, he suddenly felt as though he were back in California. At that time, he had no place he wanted to go and walked one road after another. What had changed today? He obviously wanted to stay on set to study today, but why did he still have to "wander" outside?

Was celebrating a birthday really necessary?

Why couldn't he just spend the day sitting in a corner of the set and watching?

Do we have to buy a cake and sing happy birthday to make this day not go by in vain?

A series of self-questions made him stop and sit on a bench, feeling discouraged.

Let's get over this day quickly... When it's over, you can stay at the filming site with confidence.

While he was convincing himself, a girl carrying a schoolbag and her mother walked past, hand in hand. The mother was wearing a floral skirt, carrying a shopping bag in her right hand. The scallions sticking out of her bag swayed with her footsteps.

What was more beautiful than the sunset were the ordinary human fireworks.

Then, he laughed and rubbed his head.

Kiro, what are you being pretentious about? You have two choices now: First, go buy a cake for your birthday; second, go back and do some weight-training, and then fall asleep from exhaustion.

Just as he was making a decision in his mind, a white nanny car stopped in front of him.

"What are you doing here, kid? Get in the car."

He looked at Savin who rolled down the window in surprise. His mind went blank for a moment, so much so that he didn't even remember how he got in the car. When he regained consciousness, he already had a gift box in his arms.

"Happy birthday," Savin said with a smile. "I originally wanted to give it to you in the morning, but the company's kept me busy with work. I finally finished it and was about to send you home..."

"The director told me you had left, but why were you still sitting here?"

"...I was sitting here to observe life."

Kiro tried explaining things, but what he got in return was Savin's blank stare.

"That's not important. I'm here to tell you some good news. It might be your best gift today."

With that said, Savin took out a document from the side and handed it to Kiro, "The director recognizes you very much and has recommended you to senior directors everywhere. This is an audition invitation sent by them. Basically, you're the protagonist."

"From my professional point of view, starting from the young Sun Ce this time," Savin became more and more enthusiastic as he spoke. Because he was speaking too fast, his face turned red.

"It won't be too long before you become a superstar, because you were born to be one!"

Faced with such powerful acknowledgment, Kiro didn't know what to say for a while.

Music and performing have always been his dreams, but he didn't know how many people would like his abilities.

Ten thousand? One hundred thousand? One million?

He didn't know.

He just opened the folder in silence, looking at the audition requirements, thinking quickly about how to feel so that he could express those characters more realistically.

But what was certain now was that in the face of those demands, he was no longer as overwhelmed as he was two months ago.

Maybe he had gradually adapted to this city. Just like France and California... he would find his own place in this huge city.

Suddenly, a swift black shadow passed through his peripheral vision, and Kiro subconsciously raised his head and looked out the window.

A bird was sitting on a high branch.

--It was a Swift.

Translation Masterlist: here

Kiro's Habitat Date: HERE

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc kiro #ASDFGHJKL I'M SORRY THIS IS SO LATE BUT ITS FINALLY HERE #ALSO... Birthday Date hits so differently after reading this 🥺

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pluckysidekick · 1 year

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The cast just did the final table read of the series, and I don’t think I’ll ever get over it. I’m so excited for Season 4, but crying at the idea of Nancy Drew ending so soon (When exactly? Who knows?).

I agree with Noga that the love the cast has for each other shines on the screen - it’s one of the (many) things that makes this show stand apart from the rest. The sheer amount of heart and humanity (and humor) among the ghosts and witches and curses is unparalleled. I’m not expecting to find another show that hits me like this one any time soon.

In filming news this week, the Drew Crew (fictitious and the actual show crew) were filming a spring scene set in May on the beach…in the snow. Riley gave us a nice preview (thank you, sir, but where is that promised photo?), sending everyone in a tizzy about the show finally making it to Spring. Riley walked back a time jump confirmation, but a few crew posts confirmed a spring scene. DM me or comment if you want to see said crew posts and a bunch more from the beach set - including pics that confirm what other classic ND scene was shot on the same beach, and that it might be for a Spring Festival. At minimum I’m manifesting short sleeves for Ace.

Kennedy, who must be in every scene and probably has little downtime, posted a rare S4 hint and then quickly retracted it. “This is Me Trying” happens to be on my The Space Between playlist, as I suspected it would fit Nancy’s mood to ‘T’. Kennedy did confirm a few things - that the painful lyrics about being around the person you love but not being able to have them are accurate for Nancy (see below), and that Season 4 Nace is going to kill us. I look forward to the pain (expecting an eventual HEA for our Nace babies of course).

If you made it this far, I’ll give you two little bonuses - a fun crew pic in the police station (how I love and already miss Sangalicious and applebananapear’s BTS shenanigans - let me count the ways), and a plot spoiler that no one else has posted as far as I’ve found (you’ve been warned).

Henry Zaga, who we think is a series regular in S4 from a blurry mystery cast member photo seen earlier in the season (not confirmed) posted a pic of a HIGH SCHOOL GYM DANCE on IG. OMG. I confirmed the location from his pics and it was taken in an actual high school gym in Van. Flashback to Nancy & George or Ace’s prom? The Drew Crew crash the 2020/Jesse’s prom? Future prom of Nancy & Ace’s kid (shiver)? I am dying to know.

That’s it for now. Hoping against hope we get some juicy BTS this week with multiple episodes filming, including the Amanda Row-directed finale (she directed S4 Ep. 1 and many classic ND eps.).

#nancy drew #nancy drew cw #ndcw #cw nancy drew #nancy drew season 4 #nancy drew s4 #riley smith #kennedy mcmann #alex saxon #tunji kasim #leah lewis #nace #author: pluckysidekick

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kingdomoftyto · 4 months

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Just for fun, since I mentioned them in the tags of that other post, I'm gonna rank the musicals I got to see this year (mostly just as an excuse to gush about them all). Note that the scores will solely represent my personal taste and do not necessarily reflect the quality of the shows themselves.

This is gonna be a long post.

In chronological order for when I saw them:

Turnabout: An Ace Attorney Musical 9.5/10 A young lawyer fights a corrupt system to save his clients from death row, and also there are ghosts involved. This is a completely fan-made, full-length musical adaptation of the first entry in the Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney series. A better adaptation of a video game than basically every game-based movie ever made, combined. The writers nailed it, the composers nailed it, the performers nailed it... It's one of my new favorites, and a must-watch for any fans of the games. It's funny and heartwarming but with real emotional depth at its most climactic moments. Also, spoiler alert: these lawyers are gay. Favorite song: "Alone"

SIX the Musical 6/10 (You see what I did there? lol) A conversation between the six wives of King Henry VIII as they determine which of them was done dirtiest by this dirtiest of men. (For those unaware, two of his wives were famously beheaded, two more were divorced, and even the one he supposedly loved died young.) This show is... more of a concert than a musical? The songs themselves are all bangers, if I'm honest, but the "story" is pretty cheesy and shallow--mostly just an excuse to give each of the wives a reason to sing their stories--hence the low score from me. Definitely worth giving a listen, though, if you're a fan of female pop singers, since each wife's song is in the style of a famous artist (Beyoncé, Avril Lavigne, Adele, Rihanna/Nicki Minaj, Ariana Grande/Britney Spears, and Alicia Keyes, respectively). Favorite song: "Get Down"

Wicked 10/10 The now-classic prequel to the Wizard of Oz, telling the story of the Wicked Witch of the West before she became so feared. One of my perennial favorites, with extra bonus points for the tickets being my birthday present this year. Not the first time I've seen the show live, nor even the first time I've seen it at this particular theater, but it was a great performance nonetheless. Really made me think deeply about the themes of antifascism and apathy this time around. Favorite song: "For Good"

Beautiful: The Carol King Musical 6.5/10 A biography of singer and songwriter Carol King. The songs were all famous hits that she'd composed, written, and/or sung, and it was a fascinating look into the life and career of a woman I'd never even known the name of before. Also an educational look into the music industry of the 60s and 70s--she composed for a lot of famous black artists of the time! Biographies aren't my thing--and especially not ones with toxic relationships as large focal points--but it was much more fun and interesting than I expected. As it is, though, between it being a jukebox musical and a historical mid-20th-century piece, I can't personally rate it any higher. Great music, though, regardless. Favorite Song: "It Might As Well Rain Until September" (not the best SONG in the show by any stretch, but the most memorable story beat for sure! It's the song that she composed as a teen that got her her first big break)

Beauty and the Beast 7.5/10 The Disney classic. And one of my absolute favorites from Disney, which is why I maybe had too high of expectations for the live version, haha. I was personally a little let down by some of the effects--the puppeteering was good, but a little abstract sometimes. It was still just as fun and lovely as you'd expect a Disney show to be, but I remember coming away from it thinking that it was definitely aimed more at the kids in the audience. Worth it, but not among my favorites of the year. Favorite song: "Human Again" (a song so good I still can't believe it was cut from the movie!)

Chess 10/10 A sociopolitical drama about two chess grandmasters--one Soviet and one American--set against the backdrop of the Cold War. I'm obsessed. This musical has LAYERS--and I don't just mean within the musical motifs, although that is also true! The main character, despite his best efforts not to pick a side, becomes an unwilling pawn himself in all the political scheming. And alongside the competition and the international tension, there's a love story that becomes the emotional core of the play. It's tragic, heart-wrenching, and tense as all hell, but an absolutely underappreciated musical that I hope will get more widespread attention as a result of this performance at the Muny! (Oh yeah, and the music is a collab between Tim Rice [of Jesus Christ Superstar fame] and ABBA?? Basically it's the most 80s thing ever conceived.) Favorite song: "Where I Want to Be"

West Side Story 7/10 You know West Side Story. It's Romeo and Juliet but with a gang war in 1950s New York. This was the first time I'd ever actually seen it, and I'm glad I finally got around to it. Not really my thing, honestly--seen one Romeo and Juliet, seen 'em all, frankly--but even I can recognize the choreography was incredible. This show has a LOT of elaborate dancing by today's musical standards (also not my thing), and by far the best part of the show was the knife fight scene on the Muny's giant turntable floor. That part was so mindblowing that it bumps the overall score up a couple points on its own. Favorite song: "America"

Little Shop of Horrors 9/10 A poor, unlucky florist gains fame and fortune by befriending a bloodthirsty alien plant. Hilarious, a little dark, and with more depth and earnest emotion than most people probably expect from something so silly and camp. Possibly my single favorite musical, so, automatic win. This production gets a little bit of a demerit for the really odd design of Audrey II and the immersion-breaking puppetry that went along with it, but they earned most of it back when a 30-foot-tall Audrey II actually WALKED OUT FROM BEHIND THE BACKDROP and loomed over the performers while they sang the finale. It was terrifying and awesome and I was absolutely yelling and applauding. Favorite song: "Somewhere That's Green"

Rent 8/10 A year in the life of some artist friends living through the height of the AIDS epidemic. It's a beloved piece of queer history and rightfully so--the tragedies hit hard, and the celebration of love and life hits even harder. I'm personally kind of ambivalent about the show. I have my criticisms, but I recognize its cultural importance and I'm not fool enough to deny that a few of the songs are among the best from all of Broadway. (Yeah yeah, I know all of the words to "La Vie Bohème", alright? The music's amazing.) This production was kind of neat, too--definitely enjoyed it more than I did the movie! Favorite song: "La Vie Bohème"

Sister Act 8.5/10 A lounge singer witnesses a murder and is forced to become a nun at a nearby convent for witness protection. She's not very good at laying low, so hilarity ensues. I'd never seen the film it's based on, so I had NO idea what to expect from this show going in, but I actually kind of loved it. It was consistently hilarious, the characters were all extremely charming, and the emotional beats in the second half were lovely and heartfelt. I love that the ending not only has such a strong message of found family, but also that there is no pressure at all on the lead character to actually join the religion, even though she's welcome to visit the other nuns anytime. If anything, it's more of a story about appreciating their differences! Plus, the show's got a singing Pope. What more could you want? (...oh snap, and I forgot this is another Alan Menken musical. No wonder the songs are all so good!) Favorite song: "Bless Our Show"

Beetlejuice the Musical 7/10 A teenage girl, feeling alone and invisible after the loss of her mother, finds out that her new home is haunted by ghosts. She enlists their help in scaring her father's weird business partners, but one ghost is a little more, uh, wacky? insane? ...unhinged than the others. In my opinion, this musical was intended to be watched by fans of the movie, but either way it works alright. It's a little awkwardly structured at times thanks to Beetlejuice's constant Deadpool-style fourth wall breaking--I could do without so much of that, personally--but most of the songs are solid enough and it's still very funny, with the kind of perfectly cartoonish characters that only Tim Burton could have produced. Despite any shortfalls it might have, though, I have to give this one extra marks for genuinely bringing me to tears in its second act. I was not expecting it, but I'm dead serious. Yeah. There's really good storytelling about grief and healing in the "tally me banana" musical. I know. Favorite song: "No Reason"

HONORABLE MENTION because I didn't see this one as a live show or as a major online premiere or anything, but it WAS the first time I'd ever watched it (plus this rounds out the list to a nice dozen!):

Legally Blonde the Musical 9.5/10 After getting dumped, a woman gets into Harvard Law to show her ex that she's worthy of his love, only to realize that being a lawyer is more fulfilling anyway. This musical effing rules. It's even better than the movie it's based on, which was already good. It's SO funny from start to finish, every single song is catchy as hell, and it's empowering and feel-good and even a little cathartic at times. There's a song that includes a dog barking on cue, there's an Ace Attorney-style courtroom scene where the clue that breaks the case is how gay the witness is, and there's an actual love story in the back half that manages to be sweet and good despite all this chaos. I'm so sad that I missed out on seeing this one live at the Muny by a single year. :( Oh well, I'll catch it next time...! Favorite song: "So Much Better"

P.S. labeling all of those as my "favorite" songs is such a lie, lmao. My favorite song for some of these changes with the wind. I encourage anyone who's read this far to check out ALL of these musicals in their entirety, because even the ones that weren't my favorites were still really good and a blast to see!

#musicals

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derschwarzeengel · 9 months

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The Underworld & the Hierarchy of Evil

I wanted to make a reference post (long overdue) for my mutuals/writing partners that are not familiar with Charmed (1998) and its lore. For those in the Charmed (2018) RPC: this post ignores that show’s canon, as my Darklighter OC is based in the original WB series by Constance M. Burge.

The Underworld

One of eleven planes of reality, the Underworld is where the Source of All Evil resides along with its hierarchy of demons, Darklighters, and the occasional warlock. It resembles a labyrinth of underground caves and volcanic caverns, and is so vast that any forces of good who find themselves there will easily be lost without the guidance of a demon or Darklighter.

The nature of the Underworld also limits the sensing abilities of good beings such as Whitelighters.

Notable Inhabitants of the Underworld:

The Source of all Evil

The Triad

The Brotherhood of the Thorn

Dark Priests/Priestesses

The Seer

The Source’s Oracle

The Crone

Barbas

Belthazor

Kyra

Zankou

Notable Locations in the Underworld:

Purgatory

The Demonic Wasteland (plane between the mortal realm and the Underworld)

River Styx

Demonic Market

Kellman's Academy

The Hierarchy of Evil

The Demonic Hierarchy is headed by the rulers of the Underworld, with the Source of All Evil at the top. Beneath the Source is the Triad, and below them are high-ranking factions of upper level demons.

Those factions include:

The Brotherhood of the Thorn

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse

The Ordo Malorum

Half-Human Demons

Beneath upper-level/high-level demons are lower-level demons. Darklighters rank somewhere between upper-level demons and those at the bottom of the hierarchy.

At the bottom of the Demonic Hierarchy are those demons banished by the Source of All Evil or the Triad and warlocks. Although they are not demonic, Warlocks are listed on the lowest rank of the Demonic Hierarchy. They are considered to be such a weak form of evil that they are even forbidden to kill (or even try to kill) a demon and absorb their powers by demonic law.

Demons who were banished by the Source had betrayed him by either trying to kill him or take over the Underworld. They were banished into the mortal world and were not allowed to enter the Underworld again. Such demons were: vampires, Kurzon, and Xar (who was banished by the Triad). They are considered to be the vermin of all demonic beings.

The Source of All Evil

An essence of pure evil with a tremendous amount of power and a strong will, the Source of All Evil is arguably the most powerful demon in existence, as well as the putative ruler of demonkind and the Underworld. His most formidable minions include his personal assassin, Shax (who permanently killed Prue Halliwell, the oldest Charmed One), the Oracle (who sacrificed herself to save him), and the Seer (who, despite initially serving him faithfully and well for centuries, later betrayed him to save the world and for her own nefarious plans).

Part of what made the Source such a powerful foe was the fact that it was extremely difficult to permanently vanquish him: each time the Source's physical form was vanquished, the essence would survive and take a new host, merging with that host's spirit, personality, and consciousness until it utterly becomes one with them. Hence, the Charmed Ones had to vanquish the Source three times in a row to seemingly permanently get rid of him (first two times through their To Call Upon Our Ancestors spell, and the third time through their the Power of Three Spell).

In order for the essence to access all of its powers, a ceremony must take place to crown the new demon as the ruler of demonkind and the Underworld. The coronation must be conducted by a Dark Priest, and required the Source touching the Grimoire.

The Triad

Second in line to rule the Underworld is the Triad, a trio of demons who are the most feared and powerful collective of the demonic hierarchy. They have been responsible for a great amount of attacks on the Charmed Ones.

They first became known to the Charmed Ones in 2000, but were killed by Cole Turner, soon after. They then returned five years later as the demons Asmodeus, Baliel, and Candor who were vanquished by the Charmed Ones twice.

Upper-level Demons

Also referred to as High-Level demons, these demons possess a great amount of power and have a high status in the Underworld. They are respected and feared by lower beings who usually offer their help in return for more power.

Most upper-level demons have an entry in the Halliwell's Book of Shadows, including information on their origin, Modus Operandi, powers, and method of vanquishing. The latter usually requires a potion made from their own flesh or the Power of Three spell.

Many upper-level demons owe allegiance to themselves and try to take over Underworld. The most notable demon for doing so would be Zankou, a demon so feared that even the Source of All Evil had imprisoned him into a magical barrier.

The Brotherhood of the Thorn

An elite society of powerful upper-level demons. An exclusive order of demonic mercenaries, the Brotherhood of the Thorn was formed by the Source of All Evil to gain a foothold in the mortal world by killing paragons of good and taking over businesses.

The Brotherhood answered directly to the Source, who in turn personally selected its members. Each member of the Brotherhood was given a unique athame, which could be recognized by other demons as belonging to a member of the Brotherhood. The members take a blood oath, a lifelong pledge of loyalty.

The group was led by Raynor (member of the Source's inner circle) and included members such as Vornac, Klea, Belthazor and Tarkin.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse

Empowered directly by the Source of All Evil himself, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are responsible for starting the apocalypse. No spell or potion can destroy them, only the Source is able to kill them and does so when they fail their mission. They are then replaced by another set of horsemen. Their symbol is the Omega.

The Ordo Malorum

Upper-level demonic generals who lead the war against the forces of good. Members of the Ordo Malorum were once in the possession of a genie, handing them over to each other after they had gotten their three wishes.

The Charmed Ones have come across only one of the members, a demon named Litvack. He and his servants used a special kind of demonic weapon referred to as the Level Two Demon Weapon.

Half-Human Demons

Upper-level demons who were born with a human half, usually so they could be incorporated into the mortal world as business men. These demons possess a soul and are more susceptible to becoming good. Notable examples are: Belthazor/Cole Turner, Sykes, Sirk, and the Manticore Baby.

Their human parent is usually killed by its demonic parent once the baby is born.

Lower-Level Demons

Also referred to as Base-Level demons, these demons are on the penultimate rank of the Demonic Hierarchy. Their small amount of power and often little intelligence makes them easy prey for the Charmed Ones and upper-level demons.

They are often hired to do the dirty work of upper-level demons in return for more power. Though some of them prefer to act alone, such as the Water Demon.

Only a select few of low-level demons have earned an entry in the Halliwell's Book of Shadows, mostly because they were large pests instead of serious threats.

#no mercy no more ( roleplay PSA. )#v. On the Wings of Darkness ( Charmed 1998. )#( Blog PSA. )

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artdecosupernova-writing · 11 months

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Four F Friday #2

Summary: Guetry plugs into an augment that finally, finally allows him to be with Scotty in the one way he normally can't. Posted: 4.1.22

Guetry tilted his beat guitar against his hip and glanced upward at the rafters of the empty auditorium, satisfied when the chord he'd played a second ago poured through the speakers and lingered in the air without technical difficulty. Tingling erupted from his temple and spread to his wrist, his skin chilling where his tattoo sleeve gently strobed with purple light.

"Okay," he murmured into the microphone in front of him. His voice carried across the space, still low from the weight of "Carbon Dated Monsters"—a pulsing, sensual song that had a reputation of causing dank and dirty feelings throughout Skywaste listeners. "Folks, this next number is a cover of a classic little ditty from the 1950s, a pair of guys from New Jersey—I think one of 'em was from Ireland, actually—"

Alec scoffed, sitting at her drum kit behind him. "Could you imagine?"

When Guetry blinked, his vision clouded around the edges, the same calming violet from his tattoo. Scotty was getting impatient. "Oh, I could. Could you?"

He turned, waggling his eyebrows at Alec over his shoulder.

"Let's take five," she said after a convincing gagging sound. "You're getting punchy."

"I'm gonna need at minimum…four hours."

"Four? You're not seeing that shady augment person again, are you?"

"You know the law, babe." Guetry turned off the wireless connection to the guitar and made his way to its case, which he'd settled haphazardly off of stage left. He settled the instrument inside and crouched to clamp the case shut. "Technically speaking, it's not sex work if they're not real."

Alec sighed and packed up her sticks. "Living, breathing sex workers need the money. Support them like the rest of us."

The idea of Alectura Wu participating in something like that was so beyond the norm that Guetry laughed aloud. "Like you wouldn't be all over the practice if Parys gave you the okay."

"If she gave me the okay, I'd divorce her immediately because that would clearly not actually be her."

"Shit, I'm not even married to her and I would, too," Guetry muttered, hopping off the stage and grabbing his long coat from a seat in the front row. He fished for his comm device from his coat pocket before sliding into the garment. He peeked at the notifications, then unlocked the device. "Five texts from Warren…there's a surprise. The man's in love with me. Scotty, put me through to Snap, would you?"

"Of course," Scotty said in his head. The screen of the comm device flashed, indicating an outgoing call.

Alec hung around the stage as Guetry began his departure. "Sure, Warren's in love with you."

He raised a middle finger, not breaking his stride.

—

Snap didn't answer the call until Guetry was already halfway to the tram station. "What's up, slut?"

Guetry eyed Node residents as he passed them, one hand in his coat pocket while the other gripped the comm device close to his face. He hoped he wouldn't be recognized behind his high collar, shrinking inward somewhat to avoid detection. "You got any openings? Got a break in rehearsal and I'm just about launched."

"Yeah, my two afternoon cancelled. Come have at your depravity."

"Have you ever met Alec? I feel like you guys would get along very well."

"What's it gonna be this time?"

Guetry blinked through another purple fog. "Same old."

"Huh. I might sit in on this one, actually. Been kinda curious about how these things go."

"Look, I'd be the first to tell you that augment can be quite the spectator sport." He sidestepped a pack of silhou teenagers sprinting down the walkway against the majority flow of foot traffic. "…But not this. This one's mine and mine alone."

"Must be real gnarly, then. Think it might be more lucrative to squawk to the press about all this."

Guetry rattled off something quick and French.

There was a pause on Snap's end. "…You hope I sit on a lit match and my asshole burns?"

"Going through a tunnel, krrsh." Guetry disconnected the call manually and exhaled, amused, stepping into the tram station. "'Course the fucker knows French."

—

The trip took, in total, about an hour. The most inconvenient part about getting to the seedier end of the Consortium Node's Northern Division was all the car changes he had to do. He still didn't feel comfortable the farther into the division he traveled, even though he could handle himself as far as self-defense went.

Snap's base of operations was the basement of a tattoo shop. As deep into the heart of disenfranchisement as their neighborhood was, the shop was the cleanest on the space station as far as sterilization and practice went.

Guetry entered the shop to the sound of a lone machine buzzing away into someone's back in a far corner. "Sweet Lollie."

The artist paused to look up, and she grinned at him. "Afternoon, dickhead," she said, her thick voice and Glaswegian brogue filling the room. Her client had fallen dead asleep in her chair, earbuds firmly in their ears. "Finally gonna let me get at the other side of that beautiful neck of yours?"

"Only if you ask really nicely," Guetry said. "And choke me out a little as you're doing it."

"Oh, I would've done that part anyway."

Guetry, sufficiently flattered, let out a velvety chuckle. "I'm actually here for Snap."

Sweet Lollie nodded, wiping down a section of her client's tattoo. "Aye, they're here. Go on down."

The basement, which could be reached by way of a chilled staircase in the back room, was lit sapphire blue by two lone bulbs hanging from an unfinished ceiling. Guetry shrank a bit more within his coat as he descended, the usual dread seeping into his shoulders the closer he got to the computer terminal sitting in the middle of the room.

"Yo," Snap said from behind the monitor. They poked their head around the transparent screen, a shock of choppy red hair appearing black under the blue light. "Augment room's all set up for you. Need your adapter?"

"Yeah." Guetry accepted the cable extended to him, then looked at it. He hesitated. "It's okay that I do this, right?"

Snap dropped onto their seat and shrugged. "I mean…you're not hurting anyone."

Twirling the cable between his fingers, Guetry frowned. "…I'm not so sure that I'm not." He jumped when Snap slammed a fist on the keyboard in front of them and resumed their previous task as if nothing happened.

"No one's forcing you to do it, bro," they said. "If you wanna walk, it's your business."

Guetry shot a furtive look at the door to the augment room. He reached up and pressed on his temple, ejecting his port and wiping the resulting blood away with his hand. "Guess I'll figure it out later."

The augment room was cramped and dark, but that was conducive to the intense, immersive experience that would take place within. Soundproof and completely inaccessible to anyone outside once activated, the only way anyone would be able to get Guetry out from that point forward would be for Snap to override the lock.

An armchair adorned with all kinds of tech sat on the other side of the room, and on it rested a wide VR set that wrapped around into a headpiece with nodes attached. Guetry stared at it for a few seconds, clenching his fists within the pockets of his coat. The guilt almost consumed him, then, thinking about what he'd initially gone there to do. The bond he could potentially ruin if anyone found out.

"Would you like to try something different?" Scotty asked, breaking the numbing silence. "I have a scenario in mind that could be more cathartic for you, specifically."

Guetry shrugged out of his coat and took the headset, hooking the adapter cable up to the port sticking out of his temple. He plugged the other end into the headset. "Yeah, what is it…?"

"Do you trust me?"

Guetry couldn't help but smile, reclining the chair and placing the headset on his face and head. He attached the remaining tech in their proper places and fully relaxed in the chair. "More than I trust myself."

"Very good."

The augment booted up immediately. Guetry found himself in a crowded bar, straining to pick out one consistent sound over the din of bodies around him. All shapes and sizes, all Consortium species, milling about and oblivious to him or whatever he was doing there.

He turned to his right, where a seat had just opened up at the counter. He could smell the sugary drinks and bitter liquor, the airy fruit of vapor floating around. He ran his hands over the bar, the vinyl squeaking beneath his fingertips.

A Rotangan bartender sat a glass of gin in front of him.

Recoiling, Guetry shook his head and leaned forward. "Ah, no thanks. I can't stomach gin anymore."

The next voice came from his direct left. "Since when?"

He swiveled hard, coming face-to-face with Oren Altavian sitting beside him. If Guetry had been a cat, he'd have an arched back and fur standing straight on end. "Oh, god. Not you. Anyone but you."

A flash of smug crossed Oren's face, then it was replaced by an exaggerated pout and he picked up the glass in front of Guetry. "Now, now. You're going to hurt my feelings."

"Scotty, how is this cathartic? I would rather have deep-throated a chainsaw than see this son of two bitches again."

Before he could get a response, Oren turned to him, daintily sipping the gin. "Who's Scotty? That your latest rebound?"

Guetry fought the urge to bolt, attempting unsuccessfully to plan out an exit. "Will saying yes cause you to spontaneously combust? If yes, then yes. Six thousand times."

"I'm not doing anything to anybody, garçon. I'm just minding my own business." Oren pinned him with a deep stare. "You look good."

"It's this new self-care regimen I follow called Staying Three Light-Years Away from You at All Times. You should try it."

Oren laughed. "That's good."

Shuddering, Guetry turned up the collar of his coat. "Please don't."

"Hey, if you wanna get away from me so bad, you know where the doors are." Oren touched the bottom rim of the glass to Guetry's arm. "Something tells me there's a little part of you that wants to stay. Maybe it's all the times you jingled miserably across the floor back to me."

Guetry looked sharply at Oren's fingers making their way over to him.

"I mean it, though, you look good. And I get why you keep leaving. I'm an asshole. It's who I am, though." Oren set the glass down and slipped his hand into the sleeve of Guetry's coat, brushing the tips of his fingers up his arm. "…I also get why you keep coming back. Right? The part of you that will always belong to me no matter how far from me you've moved on. The fact that I was your first real love, your first real thing."

Guetry dragged his stare up to Oren's face.

"…Truth is, I've missed you." Oren took a deep breath, as if the weight of the galaxy had dropped onto his shoulders with abundant melodrama. "I…think maybe, if you let it…we can work this out. I just mean…I'd like to try to change. For you."

Guetry watched him for a second. Then he cocked his fist and bashed it into Oren's face.

Oren let out a howl, and the noise of the bar stopped on a dime. Patrons turned to the commotion, but some avoided acknowledging it altogether.

Snatching a fistful of Oren's hair, Guetry dragged him off the barstool and onto the floor, parting the crowd as he did so. "Think you can change for me? Want me to help you out a little bit, baby?" He snatched the glass of gin and dumped it onto Oren, satisfied at the screech he let loose due to the alcohol running over his busted nose. Then, Guetry smashed the glass against the side of Oren's head, causing a few people to scream. He didn't hear them. "Maybe change your clothes first, huh, limp dick?"

He vaguely caught someone telling him to let go, but he ignored them.

"I've been four years clean no thanks to you," Guetry spat at Oren, perversely delighting in the blood streaming from his face. "Every time I get close enough to relapse, I think of you, and I get sick enough to chase that urge away for months. So maybe you have done me some good after all."

Oren blindsided him by throwing his weight up and into him, pinning him to the bar and swinging at him. Guetry blocked in time but couldn't avoid the knee to the stomach, and he doubled over, giving Oren the opening he needed to grab him by the throat and bend him back into the counter.

"You're fucking the wrong asshole, you stupid junkie," Oren hissed. "I'm what makes this fucking station run. You think those 'Sort delegates don't know me by name? You think I don't have senators sucking pipes using the shit I sling? Do you know who I am?"

Though he currently couldn't breathe and his rage coursed through him faster and hotter than lightning, Guetry smiled. "Now…this…I missed."

CRACK!

Guetry blinked—suddenly he could breathe again. He gasped and hacked as Oren dropped to the floor, dead weight, and a man stood behind him holding a cane that had clearly been used to put Oren down.

The man, pale blond with a modest smattering of freckles across his nose, gently handed the cane back to the woman standing next to him. "Thank you," he said. He held a hand out to Guetry, who was still nursing his throat and taking full advantage of his albeit briefly halted ability to breathe. "It would be best to leave now."

Guetry nodded, taking the stranger's hand and hurrying with him out of the bar just as the siren of the security car sounded in the distance. They jogged through alleys, squeezed through crowds and stopped in a maintenance tunnel once they were sure they could no longer hear the incoming trouble.

Doubling over again, Guetry took a second to refocus. "Right," he panted. "Okay. Okay…I'm…so sorry you got roped into this."

"There's no need to apologize. I was happy to do it."

Guetry paused, the voice finally registering as familiar. He looked up at the man and squinted. "…Do I know you?"

The man smiled warmly, but the way he stood was stiff, yet somehow lifeless at the same time. "Intimately."

Slowly straightening his spine, Guetry looked down at the man's eyes. He hadn't imagined it—they were purple. A lavender-grayish shade that would've been undetectable to anyone in passing. The breath with which he'd just been reunited left him again, and his stomach flopped ungracefully. The next word he said was quiet, reverent.

"…Scotty?"

"Yes." Scotty's smile widened, and his expression made way for excitement. "I've constructed a virtual body, you could say. Going by your preferences, or what physically attracts you the most out of the data I could observe. What do you think?"

Guetry's head reeled. He backed into the wall, taking in all of what he could see. The soft face, the light brown eyelashes, the petal pink lips. "Yeah…yeah, it's…wow."

"Are you alright?" Scotty became visibly concerned. "That was quite the confrontation."

Guetry's stomach and throat were still sore, but he became distracted by something before he could voice it. "Wait…you curated this scenario."

Scotty's face—a concept strange and bizarre—fell slightly. "The intention was for me to act somewhat as a knight in shining armor of sorts. I was caught up so deeply in my part that I didn't consider how it would affect you. Please accept my apologies."

Guetry's heart remained lodged in his throat but his pulse slowed to its normal level. He planted his hands on his hips. "That was all before you," he said. "You couldn't have known the full extent of his shit. He'd never gotten physical before, but damn…I gotta say, I wish I could've done all that in reality."

"Still…I'd like to make sure you're alright. Injuries may not be real in an augment, but the pain is. It would be the least I could do. To show you that…" Scotty crossed his arms suddenly, as if remembering then that he could do exactly that. "To show you that you deserve someone to look after you. It's what I had originally set out to do."

"How you gonna do that, darling?"

The emotion behind Scotty's eyes shifted at that, and his cheeks burned a faint pink. "I have a place. If you'd like to come with me."

—

It was an apartment Guetry could afford, but would never have thought about purchasing in his entire life. Spacious and sleek, with every amenity he could dream up and some he couldn't. He stood in the center of the main room, watching out of the enormous floor to ceiling windows as the simulated sky faded into common night. High-end furniture surrounded him, and it was all clinical, almost sterile. He draped his coat and the outer layers of his clothes onto the kitchen table.

"This is your dream place?" Guetry asked, turning to Scotty, who'd stepped up beside him.

"It was one of the first listings I'd found when curating this augment."

"What do you think's gonna happen here?"

Scotty once again blushed, choosing not to look up at him. "I'd…like to care for you."

Guetry snorted softly, bringing a knuckle up to Scotty's cheek. "Did you know you could blush?"

…Except he didn't get the full question out, as his finger met corporeal flesh. Plush, warm. He wasn't sure what he'd anticipated, but it wasn't that.

Scotty did look at him, then, and something in his face told Guetry that he'd been surprised, too.

"…Oh, wow," Guetry breathed again. He dragged the back of his fingers over Scotty's cheekbone. "…How's that feel for you?"

"I'm not sure I can describe it," Scotty said. His voice came out halting, almost overwhelmed.

"Yeah?" Guetry carefully moved closer to Scotty, threading his fingers through his hair. He navigated around the inferno roaring into him with every motion. "Feels amazing to me."

"Would you like to sit down? Are you still in pain?"

"I'm fine. Augment pain is temporary, that's the beautiful thing about it. People do all kinds of fucked shit in these things. Freedom without risk."

Scotty turned his new body to face him. "I must admit…it's wonderful to be able to look at you like this. To see you as an entity in front of me rather than a reflection in a mirror."

"This is kinda what I expected you to look like if you had a physical form." Guetry used the pad of his thumb to tilt Scotty's head up so he could see his face better. "Again…the purple eyes are new."

"If you'll allow me, I'd like to at least attempt to accomplish one of my goals."

"Sure, honey."

Whatever Scotty was going to do became moot at the use of his term of endearment. He tilted his head at Guetry, his eyebrows raised, and a slow smile curled across Guetry's face.

"You like that?"

Scotty's gaze dropped to Guetry's throat, and though he'd only seen that face for about an in-augment hour, he could tell the wheels were spinning as fast as they could, gears noisily clunking around in his skull.

Guetry decided on the spot that whatever he was thinking of doing to his throat from kissing to slitting would've been just fine with him. "Do you happen to know the best way you could possibly take care of me?" When Scotty shook his head, Guetry leaned close. "If you want me, you can have me."

Scotty only processed for a fraction of a second before shoving forward for an initially awkward kiss. Guetry repositioned them and then—bliss.

Their mouths fit together like long-lost puzzle pieces. Parts of the same circuit. Every other kiss in the augment was imagined, artificial, slathered in guilt and pitiful wish-fulfillment, but this was real. It was heat, it was full lips that instantly made Guetry drunk with lust, it was the way Scotty pulled him closer and ran his hands up the back of his ribs and dug his nails into his shoulder blades as if branding a personal possession.

"Mm, okay, this is getting real," Guetry grunted, gathering Scotty into his arms and carrying him the four steps to the pristine white couch. "You're doing great, by the way."

"Excellent." Scotty was settled on his lap as Guetry sat, burying his face into his neck and lavishing him with further kisses and gentle nips. "I…was worried I would've done something wrong without realizing."

"Even if you did something wrong it would be fucking incredible," Guetry huffed, dragging his mouth down to Scotty's clavicle. "And you gotta tell me if I do too much. It's a two-way street, honey." Scotty shivered, and Guetry looked at his face, grinning. "Ooh…that's it, isn't it? You like being praised? I didn't think you'd be into that. Gonna put that to good use."

"I'm supposed to be taking care of you…"

"What do you wanna do, then?"

Scotty bit his lip, eyes roaming over every one of Guetry's features. "You see…I had a plan all sorted, but now that I'm touching you and currently sitting on your lap, even in artificial reality…"

"It's wild." Guetry smoothed his hands up Scotty's shirt, palms gliding over bare skin. It felt real, warm, inviting. "It's so wild…I'm having trouble keeping myself in check, here."

Scotty caught his eye. "…Then don't."

"Hey," Guetry whispered, and he could feel himself unraveling. "If you mean it, and you want it, let's do this. Otherwise, we can do anything else."

Inhaling—another strange phenomenon—Scotty nodded. "Yes. I want it. I never knew I could feel this…powerfully about it. I'm a bit overwhelmed, but you have my enthusiastic consent."

"Alright," Guetry breathed, gathering Scotty in his arms again. "Fantastic. I'm gonna take you on this couch if that's cool."

"I don't think I could wait to move anywhere else." Scotty already had Guetry's shirt halfway over his head, and he trailed his fingers along the massive tattoo spreading from his wrist to his pectoral and up his throat. "This is exquisite."

"Yeah. It's a pretty damn good piece, right? I wanted more, but I don't think any other tattoos could compete."

"I can feel the scars underneath it. Part of me likes to think I could have helped prevent them."

"No, no," Guetry murmured, pushing the hem of Scotty's shirt up over his head as well. "None of that, now. We're feeling good, right?"

Scotty took some of Guetry's hair in hand and tipped his head back. "Yes."

Guetry accepted his kiss, fiery and purposeful, and he encouraged with his hands for Scotty to move his hips. He started slow, grinding into him with enough friction to cause Guetry to audibly convey his approval, but not too fast that there wouldn't have been time to enjoy it before it was all over. Guetry clutched at him, mind still a whirl of emotions as he felt a breath of static ghosting through his brain, reminding him that this was real and yet it was very much not at the same time.

He slipped his hands past the waistband of Scotty's pants as Scotty broke away to focus his attention on his throat, suckling with surprising intensity. Guetry winced with pain that translated like a gunshot into pleasure, eyes blowing wide at the combination of that and the slow grind on his lap. The static roared, and he turned to lay Scotty down on the couch beside him, climbing over him.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, hurrying to shove Scotty's pants down. "I'm sorry."

Scotty nodded encouragingly and smiled, helping him unzip. "It's okay."

"Normally I'm so on top of foreplay, but I swear to god I've never been more turned on in my entire life…" Guetry hurriedly looked around for something, anything to be used as lubrication, grunting a little when he came up empty. "If I gotta use the nasty grease from the couch springs, don't think I won't."

"Check the cushion."

A visible glitch flashed from the cushion underneath them, almost as if that specific part of the augment had been debugged. Guetry glanced at Scotty before shoving a hand between the cushion and the back of the couch. He pulled out a rose-gold bottle, staring at it. "…You know, I don't have proof but I think our temporally-challenged friends have been dipping into my peach lube supply—"

Scotty pushed up to kiss him, bringing him back into the present. Guetry pressed onto him, curling an arm around Scotty's head to do nothing but revel in his lips, his tongue, his breath on his face, before he found he once again couldn't wait any longer.

Guetry stood and stripped, giving Scotty the opportunity to follow suit before falling together on the couch again. Guetry used his fingers to prep Scotty, all so rushed, all so impatient, but Scotty didn't stop him or give him any reason to believe he wasn't feeling it as well.

"Okay, shit," Guetry hissed, easing himself into him as he gripped the back of the couch. He almost laughed, he was so taken aback. "Shit. You feel so good, Scotty."

"Do you remember Mercury Lyons?" Scotty asked, face flush with color as Guetry started a sweet, easy pace and propped a leg onto his shoulder.

Guetry, having been miles away until that moment, nodded. "Oh, I think about Adam every day."

"Why have you never fantasized about him in an augment?"

"I've already been with him. I don't need to fabricate a scenario when I've got the first-hand memory."

"You miss him."

"So much." Guetry slid a palm up Scotty's chest, surprised to a feel a thudding heartbeat beneath his ribs. "But we'll see each other again, he said so himself."

Scotty laid an arm above his own head, watching Guetry with lazy contentment as he moved within him. "When you do meet again, you could experience this exact augment with him."

"Instead of you?"

"Including me."

"Are you asking me for a threesome?"

"It could be nice." Scotty teased the length of himself with his fingers, delighting in the rush of pink to Guetry's face and chest. "It's only a suggestion."

"Scotty…" Guetry did laugh this time, leaning over and bracing himself over him with an arm. "You ready to rock my world, baby?"

"I've been ready for years."

On that concession, Guetry began to move in earnest, abandoning the back of the couch in favor of hooking his arms under Scotty's legs. Scotty tilted his head back, curling his fingers around the fabric of the cushion above him, and the static increased. It developed a heat, a glitter, pulsing with each drive of Guetry's hips into Scotty's, and it filled every sensation, coating their pleasure with fuzz and the strangest high of Guetry's life.

Scotty carefully reached up and took Guetry's throat.

"More," Guetry breathed. When Scotty squeezed his fingers, bit by bit against the sides of his neck, Guetry shifted so he could reach better. "…Good boy."

A shudder ripped through Scotty that Guetry could feel in his toes.

After a minute, Guetry unhooked himself and urged Scotty to turn onto all fours, resuming his pace. "Doin' okay, honey?"

"Yes," Scotty groaned into the cushion.

"Yeah, you are." Guetry's hands were all over him, then, still immersed in static and tingling in every nerve of his body. "You're tensin' up on me."

"Keep going…"

"I got you. Let go, darlin', I got you."

Another second passed in ecstatic wordlessness only broken by both of their heavy breathing and the sounds of skin on skin, then an aura of rainbow exploded off of Scotty, the air around him breaking and warping in increments of half a second at a time.

Guetry continued on, using the couch once again to brace himself. "Where do you want me?"

Scotty clawed at the couch. "Inside."

"You sure? I need to know now, or—"

In answer, Scotty reached behind him and held Guetry's hips to him. Guetry stilled, his muscles and skin aflame, uncertain if he, too, had an aura but sure feeling as if that were the case regardless. He rode the waves out, murmuring Scotty's name repeatedly, lovingly caressing his back.

They stayed as is, rousing back to full consciousness, Guetry holding onto Scotty's hips as Scotty ran an affectionate hand up Guetry's arm.

…Then, like a jolt of electricity, the guilt hit.

Guetry, hesitant, extricated himself from Scotty. "That was…amazing."

Picking up something suddenly amiss, Scotty swiveled his head. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I…" Guetry frowned. "D'you need help getting cleaned up?"

Scotty eyed him. "I wouldn't mind."

—

Guetry dried his hands under the sonic dryer in the bathroom, unaware that he'd been silent since he left the living room with Scotty. Scotty, on the other hand, now fully uncorrupt but happy, did notice.

"Guetry?" he said softly.

Shaken out of his reverie, Guetry looked at him and sighed. "Sorry, I've just…"

"I know."

Guetry half-perched against the sink, both of their prolonged nakedness not even setting in. He shrugged. "Post-sex blues."

"Post-coital dysphoria. I know. Don't minimize it for yourself. It holds no bearing on how you or I felt about this." Scotty tilted his head. "…Perhaps now I can take care of you as I'd set out to do at the beginning of this augment."

"What could you do for me?"

"What can I do for you?" Scotty smiled, a small, gentle smile Guetry was sure he didn't deserve at the moment. "Would you like to help me make a pecan pie? It was a childhood favorite of yours, wasn't it?"

"It was." Guetry returned a fraction of his smile. "But…I'm not really in the mood for it."

To his surprise, instead of pressing him, Scotty didn't say anything at all, choosing to stand with him in silence until Guetry could formulate what he wanted to say.

"I don't like being seen as vulnerable like this."

"If you'd like me to stay or leave, either can be arranged. If you'd like to end the augment, I can arrange that as well."

Guetry took a quick peek at himself in the mirror over his shoulder, inwardly cringing away from the too-thin, too-pale figure looking back at him. "Before anything else happens, I'd like to be way less buck-ass, if that's okay with you."

They ventured into their clothes, Scotty making small talk but otherwise giving Guetry his space. The artificial sun peeked up through the window, no visible star in sight but the sky turning a bright, flowery blue near the horizon of the neighborhood.

"Can we just," Guetry started, then stopped. He hooked his thumbs into his pockets. "…This is gonna sound silly, but…damn it, I just really wanna hold you. I never thought I could get the chance, and I kinda don't want this to end."

Scotty stepped closer to him. "You have a real-world hour left of augment time. If you wanted to spend it all here, with me…you can."

Guetry took Scotty's hand and brought him even closer so they were chest-to-chest. "This could get dangerous," he said. "You know I have an addictive personality."

"Yes, but you also have my support. And the support of Alec, and Warren, and Orthrive'poliea, and Varussa, Emnophene, Osillo—"

"I get it. I get it," Guetry smoothed Scotty's hair back on his head. "You're right."

"…I don't see anything wrong with occasionally coming here to watch a sunrise or a sunset with me. And baking a pecan pie."

"You and your pecan pie." Guetry gazed deep into Scotty's lavender eyes. "Was this all a ruse to get me stop augmenting the other scenario?"

"I did have concerns that Warren would find out."

"If we do this again, I need you to promise me something."

"Anything."

"Leave Altavian out of it," Guetry pleaded. "Far out of it. Like, out of the observable universe out of it. Next time I think I'd kill him, and I'm not ready for that conversation with myself."

Scotty beamed. "Only if you do something for me." To Guetry's lifted brows, he snuggled into him. "Kiss me until we fade away."

Guetry complied with utter relish.

—

The augment ended and stark reality hit Guetry like a tram car. He sat in the chair for a few minutes to allow his brain to fully disconnect from the experience, then he carefully took the headset off and sat in the chair some more.

"You good?" Snap asked over the intercom. "You've never been in there the full duration before."

Guetry tugged his cable out and the wires off. "Yeah."

"You coming back in two days?"

He could still feel Scotty's arms around him, his skin on his skin, the safety of his smile. He rubbed his eyes, filling his lungs with air.

"Nah," Guetry said. "I'll be back next week, if I've got time."

"Okay, man. I'll see you then."

Guetry gathered his coat, slipped it on, then patiently waited for Snap to let him out of the augment room. Scotty's purple haze hugged his vision the whole way back to the rehearsal stage.

#F4 Friday #hey that's rated R #pair: Permanent Geometry #repost

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olko71 · 1 year

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New Post has been published on All about business online

New Post has been published on http://yaroreviews.info/2023/05/number-of-people-getting-mortgages-rises-sharply

Number of people getting mortgages rises sharply

Getty Images

By Kevin Peachey

Cost of living correspondent

The number of mortgages approved in the UK for people buying a home rose sharply at the start of spring, Bank of England figures show.

The number of loan approvals for house purchases rose 18% between February and March, rising from 44,100 to 52,000.

It reflects signs of greater activity in the mortgage and housing sector following a slump late last year.

However, the recovery remains relatively subdued with March’s figure below the average.

The total number of approvals for house purchases reached 62,700 a month on average in 2022. Mortgage lending is also still well down on the last decade, excluding the sudden impact of the pandemic.

Activity slumped after the mini-Budget of September last year during Liz Truss’s short term as prime minister. The promise of billions of pounds of tax cuts without explaining how they would be paid for sparked turmoil on financial markets and drove up borrowing costs.

Mortgage rates hit a 14-year high but have since fallen close to the level seen ahead of the mini-Budget. Before and after that event, the Bank of England has been raising interest rates to try to bring down inflation, which charts the rising cost of living.

Earlier this week, the Nationwide Building Society forecast a “modest recovery” in the housing market, as borrowing costs fall.

Many commentators say decreases in UK house prices are unlikely to be as steep as earlier predicted.

Lucian Cook, head of residential research at estate agent Savills, said the “bounce in mortgage approvals reflects an increasingly stable and competitive mortgage market”.

“The ability to better plan their prospective mortgage outgoings has brought buyers back to a housing market that has proved more resilient than we feared would be the case six months ago.”

However, he pointed out that rising prices were still putting pressure on potential property buyers’ finances.

Spring is generally regarded as the busiest time of the year for activity in the housing market. Traditionally, people tended to wait for slightly better weather for viewings, and activity was higher between Christmas and the summer holiday season.

Looking at households’ non-mortgage borrowing, the Bank of England said the annual growth rate for consumer credit rose for the sixth month in a row, accelerating from 7.7% in February to 7.9% in March.

Consumer credit includes borrowing using credit cards, personal loans and overdrafts.

Alice Haine, a personal finance analyst at investment platform Bestinvest, said: “The sad reality is that turning to credit to meet everyday living costs is the only solution for many households.”

Tackling It Together: What happens if I miss payments

Within 15 working days of missing the equivalent to two or more months of repayments, your lender must:

Tell you how much your arrears add up to

List the missed payments

Explain how much is outstanding on the mortgage

Outline any charges

Your lender must then treat you fairly by considering any requests about changing how you pay, perhaps with lower repayments for a short period.

Any arrangement you come to, the FCA points out, will be reflected on your credit file – affecting your ability to borrow money in the future – as will any missed payments.

Your lender might also suggest or allow you to extend the term of the mortgage or let you pay just the interest for a certain period of time.

Lenders may offer a mortgage holiday which enables you to delay payments, depending on individual circumstances – and not to those already in arrears – but not indefinitely. Again, this will show on your credit file.

Read more: What happens if I can’t afford to pay my mortgage?

More on this story

UK house prices in surprise rise in April

2 days ago

What is happening to house prices?

31 March

What happens if I can’t afford to pay my mortgage?

23 March

What are my options when my mortgage deal ends?

11 February

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fingfamily-blog-blog · 1 year

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The Blow-Up

I generally don't bother prologuing my journal entries, but I just want to say that I feel shame as I enter this piece: I can't recall yelling at a class since being a teacher of sophomore English at. Silver High School in New Mexico, 1995-6, 26 years ago. And I've seen it coming for some time with this immature, undisciplined, stupid, careless class - so I should have known better. I've been testy with them before, but today I snapped. As per usual, I stood them up (32 students, in two rows of 16) to speak face-to-face about their work, in English. They neither talk about their work, nor in English. That always bothers me, but it didn't put me over the edge. It was the rotation. We've done this exercise a score of times at least, the last person at the end of each line switches sides, and everyone slides over to face a new partner. This group fucks it up every time, sometimes on purpose (which ticks me off), and sometimes just because they're a class of clueless idiots. So when they fucked it up the third time today, I yelled, "STOP! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!?!" That was, of course, bad, but it got their god damn attention. I thought that maybe I'd just let them stand and talk to each other for the remainder of the class (over an hour), but I swallowed my pride and apologized "...for yelling. I must be tired. I apologize." I sat them down to write and am writing this IN CLASS. Before things got underway today, half the class stood up in (either fake or real) panic, saying "Earthquake!" This was most bizarre and unappreciated and it took me several minutes just to get them to calm down. They had to look at their phones to confirm on the earthquake websites that there had been no earthquake. So either their earnestness was condemnable, or their gall was. So that started the class off poorly (as have the several weeks before this one, when they continually revealed themselves to be unworthy of my energy). Of all the classes I've dealt with this useless semester (easily 15, probably more), no teacher has ever claimed this one as their own, come into the classroom to observe, offered any guidance, moved me into or out of it - that is to say, no single person in the UM English faculty has done a single thing for or with me in regard to this class. They've just left me to it. I've never even been given a textbook. Why is that? Why is the shittiest college class I've ever taught the only one which no one interferes with? Every session is a struggle. Only two students have any intellectual foresight, maybe three, if you count the smug mama's boy who wants to be famous. Now, I'm like an Indonesian teacher, sitting, looking busy while paying no attention to the class, letting them sink or swim, because who cares? We're just going through the motions. There's nothing to be angry about...except...I've done these socialization practices for 20 years, and every class figures it out after two or three sessions. These fools seem ineducable, even the intelligent ones are handicapped by "pemisahan jenis kelamin" (segregation of the sexes). And what a sorrowful thing all that is, to be in college with a bunch of morons whose society privileges them their ignorance. Kind of like my experience in Japan, the system allows for coasting and indifference to their own self-improvement. Ok, enough. I must be tired - too many late night World Cup matches, not enough sleep. I can't wait until this class is finished. Just one more week! And next week will be presentations, so no effort required from me. I don't even know their names. I don't even know how I'm going to grade them! I'll certainly be talking to my colleagues about this aggravating arrangement. I was tempted to just walk out, but the professionality I didn't show in yelling disallowed me to abandon my post. I'll do that in 26 minutes. epilogue - By leaving them to their devices, it turns out I separated the wheat from the chaff a bit. Those who were actually interested in the work we're doing (which is writing a 5-paragraph paper in order to present it next week) approached me with questions, and I redeemed myself a bit by helping them. Otherwise, I stand by what I've said in this piece. I'm sorry I lost my cool. But this class has been a microcosmic example of all that is wrong with my experience here, and I blew up for 5 seconds - for the first time in 26 years.

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chapman17mccall · 2 years

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The Place To Buy Fake Chanel Copy Bags 2021?

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onlineboutiquesforwomen · 2 years

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Female's Stores For Women in Orange Region

Whether you remain in the marketplace for a new outfit or seeking to refresh your closet, there are various types of females's stores in Orange Region. From discount shops to high-end designers, you can locate simply what you're searching for here. Here are a few of Orange Region's leading alternatives. If you're seeking a new dress or pair of footwear, Avalily's deserves a look. On the internet shopping is both enjoyable as well as frightening. However, it can conserve you time and money as you can shop from the convenience of your bed. Online shops typically lug a range of females's garments and deal discount rates to entice prospective clients.

These shops likewise have a tendency to offer the best prices, and also many even use customer service that's incomparable. Nonetheless, when it comes to buying the ideal garments for the appropriate rate, it is very important to keep in mind that online stores are just as crucial as brick-and-mortar shops. For the ultimate in fashion and also design, shop online at Browns as well as The Row. The designer-owned internet site uses developer clothes at up to 90% off their initial price, as well as its flash sales feature a new developer every day. There are likewise two brick-and-mortar shops, including the popular Browns, along with the stylish and also unique Brand.

Nevertheless, if you don't have time to surf these stores in person, a good alternative is to check out the brand names on Salem. One more wonderful alternative is Boohoo. These online boutiques have a wide variety of things, including a line that was founded by three Scandinavian sisters. These developers focus on slow-moving style as well as are committed to sustainable fashion. Their clothes are economical and made to flatter a variety of numbers. You can also go shopping by fad or event. A current cooperation in between Boohoo and also the Wall Road star Megan Fox has actually helped this females's store become a worldwide phenomenon.

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For more information associated with the article above, see this post: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_clothing_and_textiles.

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abcnewspr · 2 years

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‘20/20’ REPORTS ON SERIAL KILLER WHO TARGETED WOMEN HE KNEW IN SOUTHERN CITY AND GIVES INSIGHT INTO KILLER’S MIND THROUGH OVERLOOKED CLUES AND CRIMINAL PROFILER’S ANALYSIS

‘20/20’ Includes Never-Before-Broadcasted Footage of Legendary Criminal Profiler and Psychiatric Nurse Ann Burgess Interviewing Killer Henry Louis Wallace Program Features Exclusive Interview With Tyrece Woods on Life Today After Surviving Attack by Wallace as an Infant ‘20/20’ Airs Friday, May 13 (9:01–11:00 p.m. EDT), on ABC, Next Day on Hulu

*ABC News

For two years, serial killer Henry Louis Wallace stalked the city of Charlotte, North Carolina, undetected, raping and murdering young Black women – almost all of whom he knew personally as neighbors, friends or coworkers. Now, 25 years after his conviction as Wallace remains on death row, a new “20/20” reports on the latest details of the case, questions whether the women’s race played a factor in the rigor of police investigations and provides insight into the killer’s mind through overlooked clues and analysis by legendary criminal profiler and psychiatric nurse Ann Burgess. The program features never-before-broadcasted footage of Burgess interviewing Wallace ahead of his trial and an exclusive interview with Tyrece Woods, who discusses life today after surviving an attack by Wallace at just 10 months old. The program also includes interviews with family of many of the victims, including Dee Sumpter, mother of victim Shawna Hawk, who co-founded Mothers of Murdered Offspring in part as a way to put pressure on police to find the killer; Garry McFadden, now the Mecklenburg County Sheriff who worked the case as a Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police detective who discusses the investigation and reasons why the police failed to connect the murders at first; Marsha Goodenow, who prosecuted Wallace; high school classmates of Wallace; and reporters who covered the story closely. The episode also contains audio of Wallace’s police interrogations, as well as police reports, trial records and crime scene photographs. “20/20” airs Friday, May 13 (9:01–11:00 p.m. EDT), on ABC, next day on Hulu.

ABC News’ “20/20” is an award-winning primetime program anchored by David Muir and Amy Robach. A proven leader as a long-form newsmagazine for over 40 years, “20/20” features unforgettable, character-driven true-crime mysteries, exclusive newsmaker interviews, hard-hitting investigative reports and in-depth coverage of high profile stories. The two-hour “20/20” events air Fridays from 9:01–11:00 p.m. EDT on ABC and are available to stream on ABC News digital platforms and Hulu. David Sloan is senior executive producer, and Janice Johnston is executive producer.

*COPYRIGHT ©2022 American Broadcasting Companies, Inc. All photography is copyrighted material and is for editorial use only. Images are not to be archived, altered, duplicated, resold, retransmitted or used for any other purposes without written permission of ABC. Images are distributed to the press in order to publicize current programming. Any other usage must be licensed. Photos posted for Web use must be at the low resolution of 72dpi, no larger than 2x3 in size.

– ABC –

For more information follow ABC News PR on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

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∘◦ ♪ ◦∘ Timothée Chalamet - Concerto ∘◦ ♪ ◦∘

A/N - I wrote and posted this almost a year ago on my Wattpad. My writing has evolved a lot since then, but I’m still proud of this piece, and hope you enjoy it. I do not know Tim, nor do I claim to in any way. This is a work of fiction and entirely my own.

Warnings - smut. Detailed (but protected and consensual) sex, slight BDSM, overstimulation. Cursing. Legal alcohol consumption and smoking. Also 10k words of sickening fluff though, even the smut is fluffy.

Summary - At a classical music concert, the last person you expect to meet is a young man as charming and suave as Timothée. And the last thing you expected is for him to invite you back to his flat. Turns out music really is food for the soul, and other things...

IT’S A FRIDAY EVENING IN NEW YORK CITY. The sun is setting behind the towering silhouettes of undulating buildings all across the city, the moon casting shadows all around au contraire to the luminescence of building lights, beaming all around as well as the street lamps, bringing colour and light to people’s faces in the dark.

You’re standing on the pavement outside Symphony Space Concert Hall on the Upper West Side, people watching. Nothing more or less conspicuous, just observing everyone flooding into the hall, though none of them seem to be under 50 years of age. After checking the time, you take your phone out of the pocket attached to your delicate silk jumpsuit you’re wearing for the night, the one reserved for classy parties and sophisticated concerts only (though very handy). You open the email holding your ticket for the evening, a Poulenc appreciation concert, and you show it to the bouncer who grants you entry to the auditorium.

The room looks incredible. Photos of Francis Poulenc, as well as some old parchment sheets of his music spread out delicately over the usually bare walls. The lights create a perfect ambience in the hall for what's sure to be an incredible evening. The red velvet seats are half full, dotted with people at least twice your age, except from one seat near the front where you can see merely a defined jaw and brown curls. On the stage stands two glossy black grand pianos, slotted beside one another with plush velvet stools and their lids propped up, allowing one to see the inner workings of such wonderful instruments. Behind the pianos are seats enough for an entire orchestra, creating a crescent moon shape. A couple of the seats already have instruments atop them, aching for their owners to play beautiful melodies with them. You make your way down to where your seat is, familiar with the layout of the auditorium. You’re on the right hand side of the centre stalls, third row back, but as you arrive, there’s a boy you saw earlier, not much older than yourself.

“Hi, do you mind if I squeeze past?” You ask him, watching his head jolt up from the programme to reveal a mop of beautiful dark brown curls framing his chiselled face, piercing green eyes with flecks of hazel when the light changed direction. You recognise him, an actor, you simply can’t place him.

His look of incredulity melts into a smile. “Sure.” He says, moving his legs so that you can squeeze past and take your reserved seat on his left. He turns to face you, smiling. He’s wearing a crisp navy suit with a pale blue shirt and a matching tie. He looks well presented, and by his nervous and lopsided smile, you guess that he’s rather nervous to be at the concert alone too. “Timothée.” He tells you, holding his hand out.

You return his gesture, smiling right back at him, and tell him your name. “You here alone?” You ask him, turning in your seat to get a better view. He nods.

“Thought I’d be the only under fifty here.” He laughs, “I’m 24 by the way, but I shan’t ask your name since you're a lady.” You can't help but laugh at this, just a little giggle at how sweet he is, but your interaction is cut short as the lights turn down in the auditorium but shine brighter on the stage, and a full orchestra enters the stage, accompanied by their instruments, two pianists and a conductor. Murmurs in the hall settle down to a faint hum while the musicians tune to the sound of the oboe, and then begin to play.

The music is mesmerising, starting with orchestral pieces with faint piano accompaniment, then just a nocturne for piano, split between the two lead pianists. You could listen to it all night, but an interval has to come. As the lights slowly turn back up, you see an infantile smile on Timothée’s face, as though he’s just watched the most excellent thing in the world.

“Come on,” you say to him, smiling sadly while you tap his knee, “let’s get a drink.”

He reluctantly stands up to follow you out of the auditorium and to the small bar area. You order two margarita’s without consulting him, but he seems grateful as you sit beside each other on a high table, people watching once again.

“What's your job then?” He asks you, making small talk.

“I’m a piano major at Juilliard, teaching piano on the side though.” You respond, and he seems really taken aback. His jaw falls a little slack while his eyes bulge a tad.

“Wow, you must be excellent!” You blush a little at his words, elegantly taking a sip from your drink while he eyes you carefully. You feel awkward under his gaze, though flattered nonetheless. He’s gorgeous, and he’s complimenting you and accepting drinks from you, what a night.

“What about you?” You inquire. He's an actor, you know that, but asking means that you may be able to get some more context and maybe it’ll click where you’ve seen him before. He clears his throat, and you can see some older people walking by who pull faces, judging the pair of you, but you brush them off.

“I’m an actor, mainly small films though.” He says, remaining vague. You don’t push much more, realising that he probably likes not being fawned all over for once, so you simply ask of the favourite names he’s had the honour of working alongside, which must be an uncommonly asked question because a light flickers behind his eyes.

“Selena Gomez, Steve Carell, Armie Hammer, Saoirse Ronan, Emma Watson, Robert Pattinson, Maia Mitchell…” He begins to list, but only when he mentions Maia does it click. You aren't huge into films, but you have seen him in a film with Maia Mitchell and Maika Monroe a few years ago.

“Hot summer nights, right? You were in that?” His cheeks turn a magnificent crimson and he bows his head as though embarrassed. He mumbles something along the lines of ‘not my best performance’, but you disagree. “I think you were wonderful, and did you mention Armie Hammer?” He nods again, seeming a little brighter. You take another sip from your drink, and he follows suit, watching your poised movements.

“Call Me By Your Name.” You nod in recognition, you remember watching the film when it first came out and loving the music from it.

“You’re excellent you know, at piano I mean, and the intimate scenes aren’t half bad either, you make them better.” You say with a teasing smirk on your painted lips, making Timothée’s eyes widen again. You chuckle and grasp his hand, dragging him into the auditorium for the second half.

The second half is a whole concerto, Poulenc’s Concerto For Two Pianos And Orchestra. Ten minutes in, Timothée’s hand finds your thigh and seems very comfortable, so comfortable in fact that you don't dare move it. As the concerto flows further on, his hand slides further up your clothed leg and squeezes your upper thigh a little You tense under his touch, infatuation and lust filling every cell and exiting through your pores, just waiting for more passion to fill your body and make you drunk on the feeling.

When finally the concert ends, both of you stand to applaud the musicians for a solid few minutes, and you could swear you see a tear leaving Timothée’s mysterious eyes and rolling down his heavenly made, painfully defined cheekbones. While you clap, you surreptitiously edge closer together, millimetre by millimetre until you’re hip to hip with elbows nudging. Your head comes up to his chin, making you feel a little small, but you’ll feel even smaller once your heels come off. Once the majority of the audience have filed out, you grasp his hand and pull him through the crowds where you stand on the corner of the pavement, only metres from the venue. You’re reluctant to loosen your grip on his slim hand, as he is with yours.

“Cigarette?” He offers, holding a half full box out to you. You half smile and shake your head in refusal.

“I don’t mind if you do though.” You say, meeting his gaze. “I love the taste of smoke when I kiss someone.” You add in a whisper, leaning up on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. He goes rigid, making you smirk to yourself. This is going to be a good night.

He lights his cigarette and takes slow drag, only looking away to blow the smoke in an opposite direction to you. How respectful, you think, as your stomach fills with butterflies and bubbles with anticipation. He puts it out on top of a bin and throws it away without littering, and just that small and helpful gesture makes you crave his touch, having his fingers trace your sweaty skin and making your body tingle, your back arch with desire and pleasure.

“Wanna get a drink?” You ask, pointing to a nice bar across the road. You’re desperate to sleep with him, but not without pleasantries first. He, however, shakes his head and intricately entwines his fingers with yours.

“I’ll do you one better than a drink.” His smirk sets off a different kind of longing in you, forcing your body to follow him wherever he takes you.

As you walk, he starts conversation, but you’re so breathless from the desperation speed walking that your answers are brief. He asks you why you attended the concert, only to remember that you’re a music student and piano teacher; so in turn, you ask him the same question.

“When I was doing Call Me By Your Name, I had to learn the piano, and while I was learning classical pieces, I kind of just fell in love with classical piano music, I don’t know.”

His nervousness is sweet, making him appear far more humble than anyone of his stature would usually be.

You get to his building after a twenty minute dash in heels, and he pulls you flush against him while entering through the revolving doors, allowing you to lay your weight on him for a moment while you gather your breath. You feel his heartbeat thudding and racing against his ribs, reverberating against your own chest. You turn around to face him and place your hand on his chest.

“Breathe.” You say to him, allowing him to release a long held breathy chuckle. You leave the doors, both laughing, and fervently press the buttons to wait upon a lift. “So,” You then continue, breaking the silence where only your breaths were heard. “Favourite piano piece from the Call Me By Your Name soundtrack?”

“Hallelujah Junction!” You both answer at the same time, just as the lift doors open. You fall into the lift in a fit of giggles, clinging onto each other. You find yourself with your back pressed against the cold metal handle bar in the elevator with Timothée’s face inches away from your own. Your breath mingles together. As soon as he presses the button to his floor, he nudges his nose with your own.

“God, you're so beautiful.” he says seconds before his mouth is pressed hotly against your own, kissing you with an unrivalled passion. Your lips mould and move together like it’s second nature. His one hand holds your waist while both of yours grip his face, feeling a slight stubble.

The lift dings and he drags you out, unlocking his apartment door and leading you inside.

“Welcome to Casa del Timmy.” he says while hugging you from behind, allowing you to get a full view.

His apartment is stunning. Sleek, yet also vintage. Your eyes follow across the perimeter through a door to the left, where he has an office area containing a sleek white desk with a mac and a stack of papers and pens, next to it is a vintage white bookcase stacked as high as possible with novels of all shapes and sizes, and even an indie style rug underneath a colourful modern dining set..

The door next to the office is a kitchen, white countertops with wooden cupboards and a beautiful view of the city out of the window. To the right is a set of glass doors that open onto a small balcony where you can see the whole city, even Manhattan and Brooklyn depending which way you look and how the moon beams down. There’s a closed door right in front of you and through the entry hall and living room which you assume is his bedroom held behind a golden doorknob.

His living room, where you remain standing, holds an array of house plants with a couple of very comfortable looking plush sofas, his TV stand as well as his coffee table look like polished vintage items, refurbished from a flea market maybe, while his book shelf and rug are grand and modern. The best part of all though is a grand piano in an oak wood, matching the wood from his television table, and you become instantly entranced by the instrument that you don’t even notice the velvet stool or the perfectly organised cabinet of music, with a guitar propped up against it.

“Wow.” You breathe. Timothée grips you tighter, trailing kisses across your shoulder and up the side of your neck, inhaling every few seconds to treasure the scent of your perfume. Gardenia, rose champagne, grapefruit, davana; heavenly. You grip his hands with your own, holding them tightly where they’re settled on your tummy. You roll your head against his shoulder to give him better access to kiss you, but he stops abruptly and leads you to the piano stool. He opens the cabinet and pulls out a well loved piece of music.

“I know it’s for two pianos, but let's have some fun.” He says, grinning at you, an infectious smile that you can’t help but return. Hallelujah Junction, first movement. He puts the music out on the piano and takes a seat beside you, your thighs touching and hands overlapping as they begin to glide over the keys.

Playing this piece is second nature to you, allowing you to find your way easily, slipping your fingers between Timothée’s, and the white and black keys. You begin a harmonious melody spanning the whole of the piano, but after only a couple of pages, you realise that its not working as your notes cross over, making it very difficult to play on just one piano. You laugh together, but only for a moment before he is trailing his tongue up your neck, then your lips, and delving inside your mouth. You gasp, moaning into the passionate kiss that he’s giving you, and within seconds you find yourself straddling his lap on the piano stool. You trap his thighs between yours, moving and grinding your hips a little against his to receive more friction where you can feel how needy he is.

Within seconds, he has your legs wrapped around his waist and his teeth on your clavicle. The pleasure makes sounds escape your lips that you didn’t even realise were possible. You knot your ankles as he stands up with one hand around your waist and the other feeling his way around his apartment. After a few funny missteps and close calls of him dropping you while only walking the expanse of his living room, he pins you against his bedroom door, finding your lips again

He gently pokes at your dusty pink bottom lip with his tongue, slipping his tongue back into your mouth, exploring avidly and devouring every taste of you that he can muster. You do the same, but become too infatuated by his taste to put much more passion into it: gin, mint, bergamot and smoke. Smoke, sugar and sin, the most deadly combination of them all, and that's all you can smell on him, making you moan even louder. An erotic moan that makes Timothée twist open the handle to his bedroom door as quickly as is humanly possible.

He as good as throws you onto the bed, but undeniably, it turns you on a lot to see his dominant side this early on into the evening. He doesn't seem like the type to pin you down and boss you around, but as he shuts his bedroom door and delicately takes off his probably very expensive shoes, you can see a glint in his eye, almost as if he’s planning on doing unspeakably pleasurable things to you. Just the thought makes you wetter than before.

As he locks the door and shuts his shoes away, you take a quick look around the room. His bed is nice, comfortable and exquisitely large, like other things you hope. He has a nice colourful throw, vintage looking pillows to match his nightstand, holding only a pillbox, a glass of water, hand sanitiser, and a box of tissues. The simplicity makes you want to laugh, but you restrain yourself. He has a big dresser to match his bedside table with the drawers a little skewwhiff and clothes poking out. His wardrobe is fitted to the wall and by the looks of it, surprisingly neat too. That much cannot be said for his sofa though. A plush, light grey sofa sits on one side of his room just away from the window, and it's covered with clothes. At least he made the bed though, that's more than you can say for most 20-odd year old mans rooms that you’ve been into.

He sheds his blazer and crawls up to where he left you on the bed, needy and craving more. He looks down at you with desperation in his eyes, and you can’t help but to attack his lips, threading one hand in his beautiful dark curls while the other nimbly pulls open his tie and undoes his shirt. You shrug it off his shoulders and run your nails up and down his spine. You feel him shiver beneath his touch while your hands travel all over his body. His shoulders, his biceps, his toned stomach; he’s skinny, but has enough substance to him to be strong and sexy as hell.

“You’ll kill me if you stop.” He whispers, followed by a string of breathy curses. His eyes roll into the back of his head, giving you ample opportunity to grasp his shoulders and slip the pair of you over, pinning him beneath you. His eyes flit all over your face before kissing you again.

“You are so freaking beautiful.” He mumbles between kisses. He slips his hands up to find the zip of your jumpsuit which he slides down crazily fast, only breaking the kiss to shrug it off your shoulders. He just lies in awe, noticing that you don’t have a bra on beneath it. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he examines every undulation of your body, following the swell of your breasts right down to your hips. Your nerves return under his scrutiny, making you want to hide your face, but instead he holds your wrists behind you.

“You never have to cover up,” he says, nothing more or less than genuine love in his eyes, “not for me.”

Despite only meeting him hours ago, you know that you can trust him, so you ungracefully clamber off his lap and lie on your back to shimmy off your burden of a jumpsuit. He practically leaps at the opportunity to worship your body, before him in only your panties. He starts at your ankle, placing feather light kisses all the way from your ankle, up your leg, not minding the slight harshness of your legs, and only stops at your knee joint to switch his lips to his tongue, licking a straight line all the way up your inner thigh, stopping centimetres from where you need him the most. Not through any of this ritual does he break eye contact though. He skips over your panties and only pulls them down a little to trail kisses from your pelvic bone, up past your navel, through the valley of your breasts, and finally back to your lips. He makes you feel things that you could only dream of before meeting him.

“Timothée…” you breathe, hearing his breath hitch in his throat at the way your tongue curls around his name.

You reach between the two of you to his trousers. You undo the belt buckle with ease and push his trousers off his hips and down his thin legs, allowing him to kick them off at the bottom. He seems embarrassed, wearing Y-fronts that make more visible just how much he wants you.

“How about we strip together?” You offer, and Timothée reluctantly nods. He pushes himself off of you and stands up, giving you a hand to stand up as well. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off you since the moment you left the concert hall. “3, 2, 1…”

You both remove your underwear, pushing them down your legs and stepping out of them, only to step closer together so that your chests are flush against one another. He moves his hand up to cup your face, brushing your hair away from your face while tilting your chin up, capturing your lips in a lustful yet also sensual kiss.

He nudges you and your legs hit the bed, making you topple over and break the kiss from a giggle, but he doesn’t seem to mind and only laughs with you, moving your body further onto the mattress. He doesn't go to you again, he just lies beside you and dances his fingers absently down your pubic bone, ghosting circles around your clit.

“Jesus Christ.” You exclaim at the sudden feeling. Timothée kisses your jawline, but adds in between kisses, “Less of that, darling, I’m Jewish.”

You can’t help but laugh at him. You know he’s joking, just trying to mess with you, but as a punishment for laughing, he thrusts two fingers inside you with no warning, making you cry out in a mixture of both pain and overwhelming pleasure.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, never going deeper than the second knuckle even when you cry out for more. Only when your moans turn to gasps for breath and you’re writhing beneath him does he delve in further and add his thumb to your clit, giving you a more intense orgasm than you’ve ever had before.

You immediately feel blood rushing back to your cheeks, colouring them from embarrassment, but Timothée doesn’t mind. He removes his hand from your core, and makes sure your eyes are fixated on his every movement as he licks his hand clean of all your cum. You’re so turned on that you even reach for his own hand, interlacing all your fingers except for his index one, of which he takes the hint and slips it into your open mouth, allowing your tongue to curl around it, making him groan.

He slips further down the bed and locks his eyes onto yours, you can see different shades of green and hazel in them and a whole world locked behind those beautiful eyes. Slowly, he delves into your heat, licking up everything that his hands missed. His mouth works wonders, sending your mind into a state of mild euphoria. The tip of his nose nudges your clit and you can feel yourself involuntarily gasp, so when Timothée finishes savouring every taste of you that he can get, he harshly bites your sensitive clit for just a moment, stimulating parts of your mind and body that you didn’t know could feel pleasure, let alone pleasure that intense.

He comes back up and kisses your lips, planting his hands in your hair as you kiss him back and get lost in the moment, your tongues dance together in an exploration, an experimentation of passion.

You pull away after a minute or so, gasping for air. Timothée examines your face for a moment, and you find yourself once again losing your thoughts and sanity in his eyes, until you feel the tip of his throbbing cock brush against your bare thigh. You feel bad for how much he’s been neglecting his own levels of desire in order to pleasure you, so you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock. He takes a sharp intake of breath and flutters his eyes closed, his long dark eyelashes twitching alongside his eyelids whenever you grasp harder or pump him.

He’s surprisingly big, causing you to take longer while rubbing your hand up and down his member. Half way down one thrust, you squeeze his cock a little, hearing him whimper a little. The mere sound of him drowns your core in want. You edge your way down the bed and swallow as much of his dick as you can take until his tip hits the back of your throat. He lets out the most sensual guttural groan that you’ve ever heard, his eyes still closed while placing his hand on the back of your head to keep you steady. You bring your head back up to look at him while your tongue swirls his tip, his mouth is parted a little with breathy moans of your name escaping every once in a while, his eyelids switching from being lazily half open to squeezed so tightly shut that they wrinkle a little.

You go back down slowly, inch by inch, hollowing your cheeks. You work your hand in the part of him that won’t fit in your mouth and continue to bob your head up and down. You lick a strip up a vein on the underside of his dick, making him near enough scream your name. With one final bob of your head where you deep throat him, you pull away with plump lips, climbing up his body to straddle his waist. He looks up at you with wide and loving eyes, pulling you down for a sensual kiss.

“Are you clean?” He asks breathlessly, kissing down the hickeys that he’s already littered your skin with.

“Yeah, i got tested after my last break up a few months ago, and I haven’t been with anyone since. Is that because I just…” He nods and you laugh a little, the vibrations from his chuckle rumble throughout your body.

“I did the same, but I’ll still…” You get what he’s saying and climb off him. He flings open the top drawer of his bedside table and after a minute or so of rooting through it he pulls out a condom packet and places it next to his glass of water. You give him a questioning look with your brows knitted together, but Timothée just smiles at you. He slips one slim arm beneath your back and the other under your knee joint before scooping you up and holding you close to his chest.

“Well hey there Timothée.” You say with a chuckle, secretly astonished at how strong he is, because with one arm still holding you, he throws away the decorative pillows and pulls the duvet back, throwing you onto the mattress and leaping on top of you. You smile into his kiss, savouring every second of the feel of his lips pressed hotly against your own, the taste of smoke driving you crazy.

He pulls away and sits up, tearing open the condom packet and grasping his hand sanitiser. He flicks the lid open and squeezes it liberally onto his hands before applying it and rubbing it into yours. “Are you sure?” He asks you, and your urgent kiss to his jawline is followed by a string of fervent reassurances that you are desperate to have him inside you, though you respect that he wants consent and that he wants to be clean. He slips the condom on, his eyes trained on your lips and the way they part from wanting every few seconds. He’s enjoying torturing you and making you wait, the same way that you edged him but denied him orgasm.

He slips the condom on and slowly enters in one smooth stroke. You gasp at the contact, especially how deep he goes with the first thrust, so deep that his pubic bone hits your own. He reaches for the duvet and he pulls it up over his shoulders, covering the pair of you since he can see that you’re shivering a little in the open. He looks for reassurance, but then begins to thrust inside you, holding his weight above you. You can see his biceps tensing while trying to hold his weight up and keep a steady rhythm.

“How about we spice this up?” He suggests, a sly smirk playing on his lips. He cocks an eyebrow, and the sun hits his face at an angelic angle, only making him more beautiful. You nod eagerly to him, only making his smirk grow wider.

“Yes Mr Timothée,” you say, triggering a dominant smirk to relight behind those stunning eyes.

“That's Mr Chalamet to you tonight, Miss.” Words cannot even explain how wet he makes you by saying that, already making your mind want to submit to his every want. You let out a whimper and remove your hands from his hips to lay above your head on the pillows. He joins his fingers around your wrist and proceeds to lay his slender hand flat against your wrists, preventing you from moving.

“Is this okay?” He asks, his movements coming to a halt. You nod and kiss him again. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

He must really enjoy what he’s doing to you. “Yes Mr Chalamet.” You reply, making your eyes as doe like and innocent as possible.

Timothée’s thrusts restart, faster this time. You moan louder, ecstasy filling every inch of your spent body before you’ve even properly begun. His moans are lower, more like groans, all of your name. It sounds heavenly coming from his lips, the way his mouth moves when he says your name just makes it better. His hips hit yours with vigour, adjusting to get a better position where he hits the best spot inside of you.

“There Timothée!” You scream desperately, your back arching on the mattress while your hands fight to break free. Submitting isn’t as easy as you hoped.

“I’m close.” He warns you and frees your wrists, but he doesn’t let your hand go too far. He interlocks his fingers with yours, using one elbow to prop himself up. His thrusts turn sloppy, more fervent, and just as he’s finishing, he digs his thumb into your clit.

Your entire body turns limp, screaming his name in a state of complete euphoria like you’ve never felt before. It travels from your brain to the tips of your fingers, setting a fire in your belly and making your toes curl. Your back arches so far off the bed that your chest becomes pressed against Timothée’s, your breasts moving in time with his breathing. You feel him come to his own climax, silencing his screams by kissing you with more passion than he has before.

You ride out your highs, but the level of pleasure illuminating every nerve ending in your body means that you don’t notice Timothée pulling out and disposing of the condom, you only notice when he flops down beside you on the bed and pulls you closer to his slightly sweaty body. You rest your head on his chest that seems to be glowing in the moonlight from the sheen of sweat. He absently plaits your hair, staring off into the distance. The faint thudding of his heart within his ribs comforts you, it's a little faster than would be normal, making you smile a little.

“How was that?” His hand grips around your shoulder even tighter, pulling you closer to his body. He seems content in simply holding you, maybe he just enjoys cuddling. “Wait, don’t answer that.” He corrects himself, his pupils dilating and his excellent, angelic body going rigid. You chuckle to yourself, drawing circles on his chest with the pad of your forefinger,

“Excellent, Mr Chalamet.” You tease him.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He looks fearful, fretting, it's evident in the sudden sulk of his face, pulling his cheeks and forehead down. You shake your head again, slowly but surely moving your leg to lie over his. Ye inclines his neck to place a gentle kiss to our hairline, and you can feel him smile into it.

“Timothée?”

“Yes beautiful?” Just his simple words make you giggle and blush, such a sweet sentiment from a gorgeous and well meaning man.

“I’m hungry.” You say, feeling slightly embarrassed. He laughs, you feel his body move from it, and he proceeds to pepper your face with the softest and sweetest kisses possible.

“I’ll make us some food, grab any shirt you want and meet me in the kitchen.”

You watch him pull on a pair of grey sweat pants and walk out. His pale hips sway just a little as he walks, and he looks so lanky from where you’re laying on his bed, the covers pulled up around your chest. He kissed your forehead before heading to the kitchen, what kind of a man does that on the first night? He’s a famous actor and the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, let alone a couple of years above yourself. He really knows how to please a girl, your skin rises in tiny goosebumps of pleasure while a shiver shoots down your spine and leaps across your synapses just at the mere thought of what he did to you, by far the best climax you’ve ever had.

You slowly slide out from under his warm, plush covers that smell just like him, only leaving with severe reluctance that melts away as soon as you shrug on the pale blue button down that he wore for the concert. Only a few hours ago you’d met at a concert for old people, already having a common interest that few your age have, yet he’s so eager about classical piano which is so special to you. You fiddle with the buttons, leaving the top few open in hopes of another round - he is making you an almost-midnight feast after all.

You walk out of his room and pad barefoot across his living room floor, only to have a little grey cat come and rub at your feet. You lean down to tickle behind its ears, hearing it meow, and you continue your way too where Timothée has left the kitchen door open for you. He’s standing over the stove with some ingredients laid out on the spotlessly clean countertops. You smile in spite of yourself, running a hand through your messy hair before wrapping your arms around his torso from behind. You place a couple of kisses to his shoulder blades until he turns around and picks you up in one swift movement, sitting you on the counter so that you meet his height.

“It looks better on you.” He whispers, pulling you closer by your bare thighs to plant a kiss on your lips. He’s making you feel things you’ve never experienced before, you can’t wipe the smile off your face for the first time in a while, and he's making you food in the middle of the night after cuddling you.

Dreamboat.

After watching him cook for a while, you slip out of his kitchen and take a seat at his piano. You run your fingers over the smooth wood, it’s well loved but well kept. Then you take a seat on the stool. You can feel where Timothée sits to play, your smile turning a little sad. There’s so much to him that people won’t see because he’s getting famous, but he’s still a person and that’s something that you’re able to experience first-hand.

Eyes closed, you feel for F and Ab with both of your hands. You press the keys down gently, creating the soft blend of notes that is Clair De Lune. You fall lost in the music in a new way, a new feeling washing you with all of tonight's new sensations and sitting at a piano that is neither your own nor at school, it feels somewhat ethereal.

Your fingers glide all across the keys, black to white, flats to sharps, switching between octaves like its second nature. Your mind dances along with the rhythm, your whole mind, soul and being becoming lost in the symphony that you’re creating, one that you haven’t been able to create for a while, and it’s only thanks to Timothée.

You become so absorbed in playing that you don’t notice him leaving the kitchen to listen. He just stands in the doorway, leaning against it with his head lolled a little to the side, completely mesmerised by your movements, your music, and just everything you are. Only when you play the final notes are you alerted of his presence from the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet. He walks over to you with purpose, a slight grimace on his perfect lips, but he just hugs you. Timothée just holds you close to his chest, allowing you to entwine your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face in his bare chest.

“Stay the night?” He asks, such a simple request but he truly does seem anxious. You want to be genuine, kind, but it’ll be best to relieve the tension.

“You’re making me a late night post-sex feast and giving me your shirt, of course I’m staying the night.” After a moment of silence, he exhales a laugh and node, brushing a curl or two into his face. “Anyway, your cat likes me too, so it’d be a shame to disappoint the little cutie.”

After only a few minutes, you find yourself back in bed with Timothée. He’s carrying a tray full of food that looks and smells gorgeous, followed by his cat who decides to dance between his legs. He serves you a strangely shaped piece of an odd looking pizza, though it still looks excellent, and it has some perfectly cooked and seasoned vegetables next to it on a white plate.

“What is this?” You ask him as kindly as possible.

“Flammekueche with some vegetables. It’s a French pizza with crème fraiche and bacon. My dad makes it all the time and always gives me some that I just freeze and reheat. I can only make microwave meals and vegetables, so this isn’t bad for me.” The way he explains it makes him so endearing, and even makes the food seem more than enticing. “You’re not allergic to anything are you? Or vegetarian?” You shake your head with a smile, kissing him and thanking him for the meal even though he won’t let you touch it before you sanitise your hands.

You talk the whole while that you eat, learning little things about his favourite books and his family. His favourite book just happens to be Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald, a book you both know and love, and Timothee has a Jewish mother, a French father, an older sister, and he grew up in the city. You however are from out of the city with an exceptionally normal family, and your favourite book is Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. He seems to be growing fond of you, wiping the pizza sauce from your lip, followed by a kiss each time.

He places your plates on the floor as soon as you finish, snatching at the speed of light for some hand sanitiser, lube and another condom. You more than happily oblige with all of his steps and strip off his shirt, kissing the living daylights out of him before he’s even slotted the condom on. He kisses you back with equal fervour nonetheless, exploring your whole mouth with the tip of his tongue. He cautiously adds some lube to the sides of the condom and slips into you while you’re still atop him. You moan at the penetration, arching your body forwards and hereby giving Timothée a full view of your breasts and the way they bounce with his every thrust inside you.

You moan pornographically at his slow and passionate movements upwards and deep inside you, finding your special spot within moments. He settles his hands upon your hips, squeezing them and guiding your every movement. You ride him just the way he wants you to, you can see it in his eyes. He looks at you like a teenage boy would at a naked supermodel, of which you are only naked and most definitely not a supermodel, despite him treating you like one, and Timothée is thankfully older than a teenage boy yearning for sex.

“You look so fucking brilliant.” He tells you, admiring the way that your face contorts with pleasure while taking every inch of him.

You rhythmically grind your hips against him, swirling them occasionally just to hear him cry out. Nothing is a hinderance from you going faster, but this sex isn’t needing to be urgent to be satisfying. He squeezes your hips harder and you decides to move up a little further, bouncing back down on him as he becomes buried to the hilt in your desperate core. You do it again, engulfing him anew and moaning his name continually from the mix of friction and pleasure that’s sending you into another euphoria, but not enough to release again just yet.

Timothée still hasn’t taken his eyes off you, namely your breasts where he’s currently focussed, eyes trained on your hardened nipples - partly from not wearing a shirt and partly from Timothée’s ministrations. He leans up and captures your left nipple in his mouth, sucking and kissing and swirling his tongue around you in the most divine way possible. He moves his hands away from your hips too, allowing you to grind your hips on his in any way that you like. His one hand moves to your other breast, tweaking and pulling at your right peak and sending sensations through your body that you’d never realised could be real before; while his other slips to the rounds of your ass, squeezing delectably.

“Mr Chalamet, p-please,” you find yourself begging, leaning down while still riding him, his torture on your breasts never ceasing, not even when he thrusts his hips up one final time, allowing your core to devour him whole and sending you into your third otherworldly climax of the night.

“Timothée!” You scream, your climax pouring out of you. You feel him come too, and you hear him cry out your name like a blessing.

He doesn’t pressure you, he just waits until you’re able to clamber off him with as minimal pain and exhaustion as possible, though you do whine at the loss of contact as you lie beside him, his arms securely around you and holding you as close to him as possible. It doesn’t matter that you’re both sweaty or spent, it just feels special.

“Look at that, done before 1am.” He chides, cuddling into you. You laugh a little at him, especially his humour, but it is rather remarkable.

“Two rounds, a meal, and a concert. Can’t speak for you, but I’m knackered.” He smiles at you sleepily, passing you the shirt that you wore earlier. You shrug it on and do it up while Timothée puts his joggers back on and draws the curtains, leaving the two of you in dark for the most part. You lie further down, still close to his thin chest, you hear his breathing rattle a little, but it's soothing.

“Night beautiful.” Is the last thing you hear before falling asleep in his arms.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

The only issue about sleeping with Timothée is that you forget it's a Saturday morning, and on Saturdays, you have to work. Your phone alarm starts to go off at 7.15 precisely, which when you’re home, gives you enough chance to get ready for teaching in a calm manner so that you aren’t already angry before teaching little children how to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Today however, that is not the case.

Timothée sleeps through it somehow, but your eyes are shocked wide awake, causing you to leap from the comfort and warmth of his bed and cuddles just to crawl on the floor in search of your phone and where it fell last night. You find it next to his door somehow, and switch the alarm off immediately, propping yourself up against the door to release a long held breath and to watch the sun rise through his windows. He looks so beautiful asleep, his lips parted slightly, soft snores escaping every so often, dark eyebrows furrowed and his mop of curls haphazardly lying around him like a halo. The morning glow makes his cheekbones appear even more defined.

You want to gather your belongings without waking him, get dressed and catch a cab back to your flat, but just as you go to open his door, he stirs.

“Where do you think you’re going beautiful? Come back to bed, I’m keeping you here with me forever.” You know he’s joking, and his words melt your heart and inhibitions a little, but you can’t justify staying

“I have to work, my first student is at 9.30.” You say, walking across to stand beside his bed and brush some hair off his forehead, kissing him and your lips lingering on his sweaty skin a little longer than they probably should have.

“And? I’ll drive you home in time, if you live near Juilliard then I know a shortcut. Just come back.” He's virtually pleading, puppy eyes and quivering lip just to add to the effect, and you simply can’t say no when he looks so perfect. You place your things on the floor by the bed and slip beside him, allowing your eyes to flutter shut just a moment longer.

His finger traces your naked body beneath the shirt, focussing on the bruises he left on your hips and the marks on your neck. Just his touch is enough to take control of your body, to give you goosebumps, to electrify every feeling of love and lust held within.

“Can I use your shower please?” You ask him, and he nods, placing his chin atop your head.

“I’ll take you to my bathroom and then I’ll make you breakfast. Grab whatever clothing you want from my room, but you can’t leave this bed until you agree to dinner with me tonight.”

Your heart rate increases tenfold at his gesture, and you want to take a leap of faith and say yes straight away, but that would be playing your cards too quickly. “We’ll see.” You respond sultrily, making your way to leave, but his strong grip pulls you flush against him with no space to move. You can hear him laughing in your ear.

“Say yes to dinner and then you can leave.” He slips his hands further down your front without losing his grip and decides to toy with your clit as though it’ll get you to talk.

“Y-yes! God, Timothée, of course I’ll go to dinner with you, just don’t stop!” You find it impossible to understand the shockwaves of pleasure pulsating and electrifying your every sense from an action as simple as the pads of his fore and middle fingers twisting and pressing your sensitive clit. It’s so incredible that after the previous night, it feels like overstimulation, and you can’t get enough.

“I’ll never stop.” He murmurs gruffly into your ear, you can hear the hoarseness that smoking causes but god it sounds and tastes so good.

He pulls your body closer and rolls you over. “Hey baby.” You say as calmly as you can, but within seconds you find yourself sitting on his face, half of his stunning bone structure lost beneath you. He delves his tongue into your already dripping heat, licking as far as he can get and only pulling away to kiss and suckle at your clit.

“Let me come Mr Chalamet!” You cry out, and with one final swipe of his tongue around your core and a squeeze of your ass, you let go. Timothée licks you clean while you still chant his name, and he proceeds to pick you up in order to carry you to the bathroom. You settle your heels at the base of his spine, digging in a little, and his arms tense beneath your ass from the manner he carries you. You like being above him, able to trace every line and bit of stubble on his face with your focussed eyes that he stares so deeply into at any given chance.

“Don’t be too long or I’ll be tempted to join you.”

You slowly cross the threshold of the bathroom, winking at him as you close the door. He inaudibly groans, but you can tell from his facial expression and the tension in his joggers that make him look utterly sexy. You slowly unbutton his shirt, reluctant to take it off, but when you step under the warm jet of his shower, that reluctance washes away along with any inhibitions you may have had about Timothée. He’s an angel: clean, respectful, enjoys classical music, has a cat, isn’t a cocky dickhead, and he’s literally the most gorgeous human being that you’ve ever laid eyes on.

You run your fingers through your hair, standing directly beneath his showerhead. The steam clouds your vision, but you can hear Timothée singing while he cooks, Mystery of Love. What a dork, you think, chuckling to yourself while you rinse Tim’s shower gel from your body, and you just know that after this you’ll smell like him, but he smells delectable. As the water hits the most sensitive parts of your body, you remember the previous night. Just the thought of what he did to you makes you crave his touch again.

Through the bathroom window, you can make out the New York traffic that builds every morning, accompanied by the screeching of tires and sirens and car horns. Despite it being a ruckus, it's soothing as you step out the shower and wrap yourself in one of Timothée’s fluffy towels.

“How do you look so sexy when you’re getting out of the shower? God, I can't stress it enough, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my life, even without any makeup and with your hair un-styled, just wrapped in my Goddamn towel. You’re gonna be mine, mark my words.” You feel tears come to your eyes at his kind words, watching him purposefully walk from the kitchen and all the way across his apartment just to place his hands on your waist and tell you how beautiful you are. Those words are better than a concerto to you.

Once you’ve finished getting dry in his bedroom, you ferret through his drawers until you pull out a white top with various tie dye patterns across it. It’s cute, very Timothée. You pull it on and it reaches your mid thighs, making it clock in your head just how much of a lanky lad he is. You bundle together your stuff and head out of his room, closing the door behind you and greeting him with a kiss. He sits you at the breakfast bar and serves you a proper cooked breakfast: bacon, scrambled eggs, and pancakes.

“There's ketchup and syrup in the cupboard if you’d like.” He offers, sidling up on the seat beside you, nudging the tip of your nose with his thumb. The smile hasn’t left your face since you met him.

“This is good, you’re an excellent cook.” You tell him, resting your hand on his. His cheeks glow an even brighter red in the cascading morning sunlight, dappled by his blinds, but he looks magnificent despite his embarrassment.

You take out your phone, just to take a picture of the breakfast while it’s still untouched, and of your hand held by Timothée’s, already wearing rings. You notice that he’s already wearing a silver chain too, and a couple of bracelets on the wrist away from your own, which you find unusually attractive.

“I wish you could stay all day.” he whispers, placing his forehead on yours.

“Me too.” you say softly, smiling sadly and caressing his cheek.

You finish your breakfast and make your way to the living room in a strange kind of waltz orchestrated by Timothée. He insists on holding your waist and turning around a little, moving your feet in sync until you yank him down onto the sofa, catching his lips mid sigh which leads to a much more passionate make out session than you anticipated. Once that’s over, he plaits your hair beautifully, explaining how it used to calm his sister down before an audition. By the time he’s finished a very good pair of plaits, you check the time and it’s already 9, time for you to leave with NYC traffic, but Tim won’t let you go.

“Not without a photo.” He insists, but you question his reasons. Who would want a photo of you with wet hair in plaits, an oversized tee-shirt and a bare face? But his answer is too sweet to refuse. “I like taking pictures of beautiful things, and of which, you are the most beautiful.” Your cheeks flush a raging scarlet, and Timothée takes your few moments of silence as the perfect opportunity to take a picture of you, sunlight hitting your face in all the right places, and he takes another for good measure, his hand on your cheek and his lips on yours, a kiss that shuts you up for good.

He takes you down the stairs right to the garage where he keeps his car, and surprisingly, it’s an understated car, not crazily extortionate nor flashy, something which you respect highly. He sits you in the passenger side, making sure to kiss you before closing the door, and he gets in the driver's side. After starting the engine and leaving the parking lot, he lays his palm flat against your thigh and keeps it there the whole drive while you change gears for him. You tell him all about your childhood, your high school, your time in uni while he tells you his life at a performing arts high school and then his life as an actor, he truly fascinates you.

Once he pulls up outside your building, he tries to convince you to let him come in, or at least walk you to your door, but on the grounds of not scaring the life out of your neighbours and students, you say no with a promise to see him later.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight that you won’t be able to walk.” He says, pulling you in for a final passionate kiss before you step out of the car. He made you wet just before you have to work, you’ll get him back later, but the revenge melts as soon as he leans out the window to blow you a kiss and tell you how stunning you are.

You’re so lost in your trance of Timothée that you don’t notice your first student tapping you on the shoulder and excitedly saying “Was that the Timothée Chalamet?”

You chuckle to yourself, watching him drive off into traffic, all for you. “Yes it was love, yes it was.”

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