#hammer claire

[talesofarcadiaoaks]

The Dynamic Trio

[inputs-chaos]

I have a terrible idea.

it will be miserable.

[ofthirtynine]

bold of taylor to leave reputation and debut for last in the re-recordings because those are the two i'm most protective over >:(

[judasisgayriot]

I can’t do this without you, Nathan.

[mariocki]

The Devil-Ship Pirates (1964)

"I understand, sir, that you're not returning to Spain."

"That's correct."

"But the Armada will be reformed, sir. King Philip must try again, there's so much at stake."

"That sort of talk's for priests and women. And you."

[halechief]

fellas the nonconsensual aspect of tom and claire’s relationship at times has got me seriously fucked up in the club.

[tapsoda]

Being a leon fan is so hard bc he is just such a narc sometimes that it’s embarrassing . Like in my head he didn’t do that

[shotgunbunny]

*•.¸♡𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩, 𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐩♡¸.•*

[𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫!𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

pinboard│playlist│dividers│word count: 7k+│not proof read│𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤?

warnings: weed/ oral f and m receiving/ public oral/ exhibition (slightly.)/ degradation/ praise kink/ smut/ p in v sex/ pure sweetness and fluff

The first thing you noticed was that he was leaner, cooler than the others, better than how he was described. Dressed in his dark navy blue compression top and black combat pants. His pink lips were full with a blunt between them and his beautiful blue eyes had a red haze in them. The way he was sat was just so casual and dominant, his legs spread and his back slouched against the ugly red sofa with his muscular arm resting around the back. His phone was waiting on the sofa’s arm rest and he ignored every notification that pinged at his phone. He was far more interested in you, in how you didn’t seem to fit the scene. You were in your friends basement, Claire. Her bother Chris was sat in the single chair with his head tilted towards the ceiling. The couple, Ethan and Mia, was sat in the corner kissing and cuddling while in their dazed state. Then sat on the floor was Carlos and Jill, best friends but one was pining for the other. Claire had told you all the gossip about these people, including the fact that she had a huge kiss on Jill and as you look at her it’s easy to see why. Her hair looked soft and her eyes charming, a clearing of a throat breaks you away from your analysis. You gaze back up and see it was the pretty boy who had first caught your eye, he was demanding your gaze back on him, your attention in the subtlest of ways. This was Leon. The guy you had heard so much about, how he hid his sweet side beneath a personality of sarcasm and coldness.

“Who’s this?” Leon’s gruff voice says as his eyes observe you, admiring your cute trainers and white leg warmers before letting his eyes trail up to your cute lilac skirt and your long sleeve green top that clung to your body. His gaze stuck on your hands for a moment, noticing your scrunching the material of your sleeves up in your hand. You were nervous. Claire smiles, “This is the sweetheart I’ve been telling you all about!” Claire chirps before she glares down at Carlos, “Hey! That’s my spot and you sparked up early, loser.” As Claire continues her bickering with Carlos about who sits next to Jill, Leon clears his throat catching your attention again. When you finally look up to him, he pats his thighs and moves his head to usher you to sit down and you follow the silent command immediately.

Just as you reach the sofa, his big hands gently cup your hips and he guides you to sit on his thigh, you plop down onto his thigh and swing your legs. He keeps an arms around your waist before he moves his other hand to tilt your chin to face him. “So what’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ in a place full of losers like this, Buttercup?” You heart hammers at the sweet pet name he slips in and you look around the room, observing the people around you. You turn back to Leon with a pout on your glossed lips “Hey, I don’t think anyone here is a loser, you’re all unique and cool in your own way.” You mutter to which Leon chuckles, his thumb rubs against your bottom lip. “Cool? How are we cool, Buttercup?” He practically purrs to you. “Well, Chris is strong and his music taste is awesome and fun plus he’s a biker, his motorbike is so coo. Claire is just fun and she has an awesome red leather jacket, Carlos has awesome fashion sense. Claire always shows me the belt buckles he wears. Jill is pretty and super relaxed. And Ethan and Mia are a great couple.” You babbles and Leon hungrily eats your words up, hooked on your every word in his high state.

He smirks, his eyes turning mischievous, “And what about me, Buttercup?” He whispers against your ear. You blush and when you try and turn your head away, Leon’s move his hand to grip your chin making sure you can’t turn away. “Ah-ah-ah Buttercup, c’mon you can tell me.” He continues to purr at you. You shyly glance back up into his eyes, “Well, of course you’re cool. You seem so mysterious but nice, ‘n your handsome, and so chilled out.” You mutter out in a small voice and within seconds a grin is plastered on Leon’s face. “What’s your number, Buttercup?” He coos and you shake your head. Leon tilts his own at your refusal, “Why not?” You bite your lip and play with the ends of your sleeves again. “Well, you’re attractive ‘n stuff. I just don’t wanna be played or get attached.” Leon snorts before throwing his head back laughing. You watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as you listen to his melody of joy.

His half lidded eyes stare at you, “Buttercup, that’s not gonna happen.” He says firmly but the hint of a smile still on his face. He grabs his phone and opens it, he grimaces it. “Y’see Buttercup, if I just wanted to use you I’d ask for your social media. But I wanna know more about you. Wanna take you out and buy you pretty things. So, what’s your number, Buttercup?” He was so dominating but soft with his words you couldn’t help but pull your phone out and give him your number. Within seconds of adding your number to his phone he texts it to make sure it’s you. He hums happily. “So why are you here, Buttercup? You don’t seem the type to get high.” You rest your head on his shoulder as you settle into his la. The ambience in the room is so relaxing, some music plays in the background while everyone has their own conversations. “Claire invited me, and I was just curious y’know? Just wanted to see the gang.” He hums in response. “Well, I’m glad. Feels more complete with you here Buttercup, feels balanced out. 4 guys, 4 girls. But you’re gonna be my girl, right?” After a few second of you not responding, he cranes his neck to gaze down at you, “Right, Buttercup?” You blink out of your little stupor of admiring the group and return to looking at him. “But ‘m Claire’s girl.” He tuts at you. “No, she’s Jill’s girl. Just like Carlos and Chris are too. Mia is Ethan’s girl. But you? You’re my girl.” His voice leaves no chance to deny or squabble with him and you just nod. “Good girl.”

You and Leon stay cuddled up on the sofa getting to know each other for the next few hours. You babble to him and he listens intently making notes about you in his head. He was love struck, you were his absolute opposite but instead of shying away or avoiding him, here you were sat on his lap swinging your legs while idly playing with his fingers telling him about your family and your hobbies. And in return Leon would tell you about his life, how he’s a cop and how he didn’t have a family as they passed away in an accident when he was young. You hugged him tightly when he spoke, pulling his head to your chest so he was left resting his head against your breasts as you stroked his hair cooing to him and he revelled in the attention and the soft touches. A pretty girl taking care of him with tender touches and sweet words, he could get used to this. He could get used to you.

As Leon is coddled against you, both of you rambling away happily to each other, his high was wearing down but his feelings for you didn’t. He felt safe and content here, like you were made to calm him down, like you were becoming his new drug. Something he could be addicted to without having to worry about his health or getting into trouble with. His eyelids flutter open as he gazes up at you, “Please take a chance on me, Buttercup. It feels right when you’re here. Don’t let my looks deceive you.” His eyes are pleading, begging you to not overthink him and instead keep him safe in your arms. You run your hands through his hair, “okay.” You whisper and a soft grin spreads across his face and he cuddles back into you.

He listens to your heart beating and the gentle lull of your breaths mixed with the sweet sounds of your voice as you talk to him. He could drown in you, in how magical this moment was to him. He adored you within the first meeting and he didn’t want to part with you. But sadly the time did come and when you shifted Leon from your embrace he growled. “No, Buttercup I’m comfy.” He rumbles to which you giggle. “I have to go home, I have curfew, sadly.” You murmur and Leon’s grump demeanour quickly shifts to a hopeless look. As you stand up, he follows suit and wraps his arms around your waist and snuggles into you neck. He was like a puppy, desperate for your attention and desperate to keep you. “Promise me, Buttercup. That you’ll call me up and let me take you out on a date.” He nuzzles his head into you neck and you laugh softly. “I promise my little puppy boy.” You tease to which he faintly bites at your neck leaving a small imprint of his teeth indented on you, marking you as his. “Call me puppy again and I might have to howl at your window until you let me in,” He smirks down at you. You pull away and kiss his cheek before heading to the door and flashing him one last smile, “I’d let you in.” You murmur and the door closes behind you.

You stuck true to your word and 3 days later, Leon was outside your house on his motorbike. He was dressed in his black pants, a tight black t shirt and a leather jackets, a helmet adorned on his head hiding his handsome face from your eyes. As soon as Leon sees you he pulls it off and reveals a bright a grin on his face, he shakes his messy blonde hair. You giggle at him and walk over to him, but he beats you to it by taking long strides towards you. “I hope you don’t find me too keen that I scare you off Buttercup.” He murmurs as he places his hands on your hips and mumbles down to you. You can’t wipe the smile forming on your face from his sweet confession, You places your hands on his forearms and gaze up at him. You stand on your tiptoes and nuzzle your nose against his, “I am just as keen.” You whisper to him and he chuckles in response. “Well ain’t I lucky.” He says with a smug grin on his face, he places a small kiss to your nose and pulls away.

“Damn, Buttercup! You look amazing.” He coos down to you, admiring your white summer dress that ad thin straps and stropped at your thighs. You smile bashfully at him and he quickly returns to you and holds your hand, “c’mon give me a twirl.” He murmurs and holds your hand up high. You giggle as you spin for him and he whistles. “I don’t know what you did to me, but I want you doll. ‘S like I’m sick and you’re the only cure.” He mumbles to you as his gaze is utterly transfixed on you. You bite your lip at how blunt he is, it was like he was your fever dream. “Is it a bad thing?” You ask tilting you head and he just responds by throwing his head back laughing at you. “Never. You’re a disease I’ve been waiting for Doll. I want you to leave me bed ridden with shaking bone and flushed cheeks.” He says it so easily, the innuendos easily seen but you can tell he means it in every way.

He coughs and walks to his bike, “Anyway, I said I’d take you on a date and um-” He hands you a pink helmet, something a man as grungy and dark as him would never have. “I um painted it, kinda hoping you become my permanent passenger princess.” He murmurs and you giggle. “Thank you, that’s really sweet of you.” He beams at you and his baby blue eyes gleam. “Yeah?” He asks almost shyly, “Yeah.” You confirm and place it on, you strut over to him. You pull up the screen of the helmet and gaze up at him, “Y’know, we’re definitely moving fast. Hold back the love confessions for a few months.” You tease him and he smirks and slings the screen of your helmet back down with a flick of his risk. He straddles his bike and you follow suit, wrapping your arms around his muscular torso, you can feel every abdominal muscle he hides under his tight shirt and you can imagine his smirk already getting even more smug. “Fast is what I do, Buttercup. But for you, I’ll take it slow. Don’t wanna love bomb you.” He says underneath his black mask.

He starts the bike and pulls off the side and soon you begin to drift with him on his bike. You flash through the streets with the sun beaming down on you and the purr of the engine rumbling between your thighs creating a delicious little tingle. Leon smirks already imagining the effect his bike is having on you, so he throttles it making the bike roar and he speeds down the road, focusing on his directions but his mind drifts off to the idea of how wet you panties are and how they were dripping all over his seat. He groans at the thought and changes his direction, and drives you both to the woods. As you stand off the bike and peel the helmet off, you gaze up and see Leon tearing his off and throwing it down. Before you can question him, he rushes to you and pulls you to a gathering of trees, barely any sunlight gets though and you doubted anyone could see you.

Leon’s large hand frame your hips as he pins you against a tree, he falls to his knees panting his once vibrant blue eyes now dilated and nearly black. He gulps as he gazes up at you, “Can I?” He whispers shyly and you blush but nod, “Words please, Buttercup.” He pleads, a vision on his knees before you begging and pleading to hear your voice and to let him take something that he’s desperate for. “Yes.” You murmur and Leon’s head disappears under your dress, You can feel his sweet kisses being littered on your thighs leaving little mark against your skin. His hands fall down from your hips and under your dress too. He grabs your panties and drags them down and you lift your feet up for him.

You let out a gasp as his hands slide to your ass and he squeezes it before he buries his head between you folds. He groans as you let out a whimper, he licks between your folds, tasting you. You watch how his shoulders slump and for a second you fear you’ve done something wrong but those thoughts are quickly silenced by him letting out his own moan of pure pleasure and he begins to eagerly lap at your pussy. Your cunt drenching his tongue, your thighs shake and shiver and he squeezes your ass again as he latches onto you clit, bullying it with his tongue lashes and kisses. He suckles on it desperately and you whine before moaning and folding over your hands landing on his shoulders to hold yourself up. You whimper and you feel his tongue exploring your hole. He licks against your walls before he moves back up to nuzzle his nose your clit.

You cry out as your thighs tremble again. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you cum hard and he laps up every drop, like a man who had been walking the desert for years without a drop of water. You whimper at every tender licks and he pulls away. His face is flushed and his eyes are still black, yet despite his lust he remained a gentleman and pulls your panties up. He stands to his full height and you rest your head against his chest and his arms wrap around your smaller frame. His hands gently stroke your hair. “Thank you, baby. Taste so good, could get drunk off your perfect, little pussy.” He whispers down to you, you whimper how crude his words are yet he said them so soft.

You can feel his bulge against your hip and your innocent eyes peer up at him, you bite you bottom lip as he looks down at you, “Can I?” You whisper and he crumbles, “Are you sure, baby? Don’t wanna overwhelm you or ruin your pretty makeup.” He mumbles his hands grazing your cheeks. “Please? Wanna practise and Learn.” His resolve snaps, he pulls his leather jacket it off and lays it on the floor, “Don’t want you hurting or dirtying your knees.” He mumbles. As you’re getting on your knees, he unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his pants before pulling his zipper down. His pants fall to his knees and you gulp gazing up at him shyly. Your delicate fingers slide under the waist band of his boxers and you pull them down slowly, you watch in wonder as his cock slings out. He was painfully hard.

He leans against the tree panting already over how erotic this was, he lets out a choked gasp as your fingers gently trace the veins on his cock, from the base all the way to his tip. You gently pull the foreskin back and gaze at his thick, pink tip in wonder. “Fuck, Buttercup. I’m about to cum over your damn face with your soft, little hands.” He grumbles out. His eyes are focused on your solely, and you lean forward and place a small kiss to his tip. You can feel his cock throbbing in your hands from where you’re holding it from the base. His hands catch in your hair and pull it into a sloppy pony tail. “Wrap your lips around it baby, gently.” He mutter and your wrap your puffy lips around it. Leon whimpers and you wish you could bottle that noise up and repeat it in your mind forever.

You ben to work your mouth up and down his cock, using your hand to move up and down to meet where your lips don’t meet. And soon you’re in a rhythm of sucking his cock and tongue lashing his tip, just like he did to your clit. He pushes your head gently down your cock and you gag, but Leon lets out a delightful little moan at the feeling of your throat tightening around his cock. He repeats this action being careful to not hurt you or make you throw up. Your eyes are teary as you gaze up at him, all while your nose is buried in his pubes, your throat tightening around his cock. And the second Leon looks down at you, the noise that leaves his lips is heavenly. He cums down your throat before you pull off his cock with a wet ‘pop’.

You stand up and swallow his cum, grimacing at the taste and texture but you knew you’d get used to it one day. He tucks his cock away and pulls his pants up. Once he’s finished buckling his belt, he strides quickly towards you and cups your cheeks and kisses you. His lips moving against yours desperately trying to find a way to make you feel as amazing as he did. He breaks away for air but places his forehead against yours. “I don’t deserve you, pretty girl. Haven’t even kissed you or taken you on our first date and you’ve made me cum. To fucking good for me.” He mutters.

You smile, “Could say that to yo-” He immediately cuts you off, “No, doll. This is different. You’re innocent, baby. I’m not. And you just rocked my world. You want me to spoil you, yeah? Let me.” He begs and you shake your head. “Let me, Buttercup.” You sigh, “On one condition,” You murmur, “Anything, baby.” He whispers earnestly. “Can we get a bottle of water first? My throat aches.” Leon lets out a bark of laughter and wraps his leather jacket over your shoulders and then slings his arm over your shoulders. “Absolutely Buttercup.” He coos.

Hours later, The sun was coming own ad the evening darkness was crawling up the streets but it didn’t matter as you and Leon were tucked in an underground bar. There were a few other couples around but none paid any mind, you were all far too wrapped up in your own romances. And at the moment you and your romance were gathered around a pool table, the balls were scattered around. You lean against the pool que and pout at Leon, “This isn’t fair you’re like really good! This is our fourth game!” You whine and he walks over to you. His hips knock against your ass, he makes you bend over the table and he folds on top of you. He directs the que in your hands, his mouth breathing against the shell of your ear, “Focus, baby.” He whispers and you shiver. He draws the que back for you and pushes it forward and hits the white ball and you pot 2 other balls.

Leon stands up and beams down at your proudly and you squeal in excitement back up at him. He can contain himself but lean forward and press his lips to yours. He moves softly and slowly against you, trying to taste your joy in that moment, he wanted you to share that feeling with him so you did and moved your lips against his. He pulls away, “Haven’t I let you win all four games?” He muses, his lips brushing against yours as you giggle. You nudge him away with your hips and return back to the game. All while Leon directs you and holds you, any excuse he jumps at it. He was desperate to be around you.

When the games finished he pulls you to his side, his gaze scanning you. Trying to memorise every part of you, from how your pretty eyes flash with happinesses, to how amazing you look. He was hypnotised by you, completely and utterly at your mercy. He wishes he could have this memory as a drug, his forever moment, your first date together. You watch as his eyes are filled with contentment, how fast his heart beats under your small hand that rests on his chest. You two were completely and utterly in sync with emotions, how they rose up and crashed inside you like the ocean that was trapped in Leon’s eyes.

He rests his forehead against yours, “Tell me,” he mumble, “Tell me this was the best date you’ve ever been on and you want a lifetime more and I will happily provide it. I can’t give up this. You. I haven’t felt this happy- no complete- no- I haven’t felt like everything was so perfect...ever.” He whispers and your heart aches. You close your eyes and press your head against his, embracing this sentimental moment. “This was the best date ever, give me all your dates, and I’ll give you an eternity more. This feels like the universe is finally right.” He chuckles and brushes a lock of hair from your face, “Had to out do me, huh? A lifetime of dates versus an eternity of dates. Damn baby, you got me beat and begging on my knees just so I can be near you.” He confesses and you giggle. “This is just the honeymoon stage thou-” He presses a finger to your lips.

“Yeah, and it means that in the future when we’re not in this stage it is still going to be the most wonderful thing. Even if we fight, it will always be good. You said it, I’m like a damn lovesick puppy, I’d follow you everywhere even when we hate each other. I’ll always follow you.” He whispers and your heart melts. He pecks your lips, “C’mon lets get you home. I do actually wanna take you on an another date and I wanna be in your parents good books.” He chuckles as you both begin to run to his bike, an almost silent race between you that he would obviously let you win. Always.

Of course, after that Leon was desperate for another date, for more time. And within two days you were on your second date. Riding on the back of his bike again in the pink helmet he had decorated just for you. Your arms were tucked around his waist tightly again as you flew through the scenery. Old friends seeing you cuddled up on the bike of the brooding guy they had so often thirsted for, and here you were riding freely with him while he was obsessed with you. Leon was a well known cop in the area, a sweet guy that served his community and made sure peace was secure. Grandparents loved him, and parents did too it seemed.

You had heard your father speak of Leon’s good deeds, but only a few knew of him breaking the rules. Of letting a few stragglers go, smoking weed. But in all other means, he abided the law and adored his job. And you did too, especially when seeing him in his uniform, he was hot and dangerous with a belt looped around his hips and a gun attached. The threat was sexy but the man was so soft you could never comprehend him ever hurting a soul. Even though his hands were calloused and rough, the way his touch was gentle and almost shy made your heart flutter.

As you daydreamed you had hardly realised that Leon had stopped and parked. He hops off his bike and pulls his helmet off, he shakes his messy blonde hair and grins down at you and offers one of the very same rough calloused hands you had been thinking about. You slide it into his grip and are gently pulled off the bike, his hands leave yours for a moment and he places them on the helmet and gently tugs it off your own head before hanging them off the handle bars of his bike. No one would steal them because of Leon being a sweet cop everyone knew him and what e rode so they would never mess with his bike. His hands frames your face and stoke your cheeks, “Hey Buttercup.” He murmurs and you beam up at him like seeing heaven’s light. And at that moment Leon can feel his heart melt he leans down and kisses your nose. He soothes any stray hairs on your head before sliding his hand back into yours. “C’mon doll.”

He begins to tug you to a brightly coloured building where loud fun noises swell out into the car park you are walking through. You scale your eyes up to analyse the building, seeing pictures of coins and ways to win, it was like a candy fun land, as you look up at gaze at the huge neon purple and yellow sign your eyes go wide with awe, it says ‘ARCADE’. You squeeze his hand and squeal, he just kept out doing himself and all you could do is give heart eyes to the man. You begin to skip, practically dragging him along with you and he can’t help but chuckle as he jogs to catch up.

As you step inside you’re greeted by flashes of colour, teenagers and couples and children. A place where many went too gamble but in a safer way, you walk further into the arcade looking down at the navy blue carpet that had a disgusting design but in this environment it fit perfectly. Leon follows you and grabs the classic paper cup which you put your coins in and empties a small money bag of coins into it. Leon had come prepared, he didn’t care how much he spent today just as long as you were happy. The reason why was because he felt bad about doing sexual things so fast while you guys hadn’t even been on your first date. Despite you reassuring him that it was fine and that you still had fun, through texts, he wanted to make it up to you. He wanted to win you a big plushie in those scam grabber machines. He was determined to make it happen.

Soon you and Leon were playing Mario Kart and you couldn’t help but giggle at watching his tall and big frame tying to fit into the seat. When he did eventually you were red in the face from laughter then the games began. Whilst trying to play the racing game, you both had a smaller game going on, ‘Who could distract the other the most?’ It was simple at first, you’d poke his side and he’d tickle you back but it progressed to you playing footsie and kicking his feet off the pedals and then he back to squeeze your thigh and began to slide it under your skirt. Eventually the game ended and you were panting at his teasing, despite it all Leon had let you win. You had come in 6th while he came in 7th and your heart races with love and joy, He had let you win.

You continued around the arcade trying to shoot hoops to which you were terrible but Leon loved watching your tits bounce as you jumped. When his turn came he began to shoot perfectly getting hoop after hoop. He had on so many tickets for you and after his round you both decided to team up, Leon’s front was pressed firmly against your back and as he kept getting the balls through the net you would gather than and hand them to him, and when the time was nearly up his hands held yours and together you both scored the last hoop. You couldn’t help but squeal and kiss his cheek. Leon was now your ticket carrier and you decided you’d get something at the end.

You traversed to the air hockey game, but this time Leon wasn’t going easy. You couldn’t help the laughter that spilled from your lips when you managed t score a goal against him. But for once he had one and his prize was a kiss form you which he eagerly accepted, how could he not? Having your lips against his was close to going to heaven and he’d take every second of his religious moment that he could. Eventually you looped ack to the grabber machine and pointed at fluffy gold wolf plush. He raises and eyebrow and you flash him an innocent smile, “What? It reminds me of you. ‘m gonna called him Leo,” You coo and within seconds Leon is loading his money into the machine.

By the end of the day, Leon had won you your mini Leon Plush and at the counter you both decided on getting matching bracelets and a huge bunny plush. It was a perfect date and at the end you sat outside on a bench eating greasy fries and giggling together. This was beyond perfect to you both. The sun was settling and you were sharing and stealing fries from one another as you gushed about the day and joking around. You knew that this was inly the beginning and you couldn’t wait for this fairytale romance to continue. It would never end not when life could be as beautiful and happy as this.

Seven magical months had passed and you two were beyond close, You had confessed your love to each other while camping underneath the starry sky. It was no mystery now that Leon as no longer a bachelor for the town, he was head over heels for you. To the point you had began to sleep over at his place. You clothes were beside his in his drawers and your big bunny plushie he had won you was laid in the middle of his bed. He was always waiting for you, always eagerly wanting you at his apartment. Everyday after work he would drive by your house and on most days you’d join him and drive to his where you would cook dinner together and Leon was kiss you senseless. The man worshipped you and you worshipped him. Together you were a perfect pair, soulmates.

But the reason you had started staying more often at Leon’s was because of a lot of reasons, but the main one was due to many incidents of you and Leon getting frisky in you bedroom and a family member nearly walking in giving you a heart attack while Leon’s fingers were deep inside you rubbing and thrusting away, almost daring you to cum all over his fingers and your pink bedsheets with someone so close to walking in. He would do it so often, his lust was insatiable. But he was smart and every time just as you were about to paint his fingers with your sweet juices, he would kiss you hard silencing your moan, leaving you breathless and panting beneath him as you came hard.

But the most notable incident that stirred this change was when you and Leon had stated innocently watching a movie together. His hand was rubbing up and down your back soothingly as you were dressed only in one of his t shirts and he was dressed only in his loose grey joggers after along day of work. You gaze coasted up to him and you began to lazily kiss along his jaw, and he couldn’t help but groan. His hands shifted down to your hips and he tilted his head don and caught your lips in a sloppy kiss. His tongue swirls around your mouth and within seconds the beast is loose, he quickly turns you and pins you down on your bed. Your wrist locked above your head with one of his firm hands. You whine and he bites your bottom lip, “No buttercup, we gotta stop before I spear you on my cock.” He breathes out.

You can’t help but squeeze your plush thighs together at his words, “Wan’ that.” You whisper and any sense of control is thrown out the window. Leon sits up his knees and thumbs the waist bands of pants and boxers and slides them down with one quick motion. You watch as his hard cock springs loose and before you can even begin to drool, his hands slide up your thighs and grip the waist band of your panties, “Hips up.” He commands and you eagerly obey and he pulls them off and throws them on your floor leaving them a crumpled mess near the bed.

He pulls a condom from his pocket and you raise an eyebrow and as he rolls it down his cock, “What? Gotta be prepared for fucking your tight little cunt.” He mutters and lays his body over yours like a blanket, you wrap your legs around his waist as he rubs his tip between your folds before nudging at your entrance. He slides into your tight, wet heat and you moan while arcing you back and throwing your head back. He arms cage around you above your head, you watch as his muscles flex and he pants. “Fucking perfect. This fat little pussy takes care of my cock so well. You feel it don’t you? How your tight little cunt wraps around every fucking vein. You were made for this cock, my slutty little buttercup.”

You whimper as he gives a sharp thrust, he smirks down at you. “Eyes on me, understood.” He whispers against the shell of your ear as his hips grind against yours, you can’t help but obey again. Your eyes hazy with pleasure as Leon pants down at you “Look at you, dumb on my cock, Buttercup. S making e so fucking hard,” He groans out and then he leans down and kisses you eagerly and sloppily, your tongues are wrapped around each other as the tip of his cock rubs against your g spot and bullies your cervix. You felt so full and Leon showed no sign of stopping.

You mewl and moan beneath him your eyes closing as he pulls away from the kiss, the string of spit that connects you falls down all over your chin, you were drooling and panting, your body complying to every thrust and drag of his cock. “Painted with my spit, need to paint you with my cum like a good girl, because you are my good girl, right?” You nod desperately and he can’t help but groan as he gazes down at you, as the sound of skin slapping fills the room you both hear the front door open and you tighten around him to which Leon buries his head into your neck and bits down to hide the whimper that leaves his throat. You were both so close to cumming and so Leon gives a few shallow thrusts and clamps his hand over your mouth. “Shut the fuck up, be a good little slut and don’t make another noise, just cum around my cock. Fucking mark it as yours. This is your cock, what you were built for.” He whispers down harshly into his ear, adrenaline running through his veins. When you hear footsteps climbing up the stairs, Leon quickly begins to circle your clit and thrust faster, his balls slapping and he presses his forehead against yours. “My cunt. My girl. My buttercup.” He hisses and gives one last thrust and you both cum.

You don’t have time to clean up, instead Leon quickly pulls his boxers and pants up and pulls you tot sit on his lap, the blanket covering your lap as you watch the TV just as your door opens. You heart hammers in your chest as your mum enters she smiles and waves at you and Leon and quickly babbles about her day and what’s for dinner and you nod dumbly, a little out of from your orgasm a few seconds ago. Leon holds the conversation to seem less suspicious and when your mum leaves, Leon pulls you closer to his chest and showers you in kisses and praises. You couldn’t help but shiver in delight and soon Leon is cleaning up and throwing his condom away, putting your panties in the laundry, cleaning your thighs up and your pussy gently before he puts on some clean underwear on for you ad passes you a drink of water. The only things hat ran through your head was That was too close and from then on, you decided to have sex at Leon’s apartment rather than your princess bedroom.

And of course the dates only got better, from carnivals to quiet cabins. You had gone on so many wonderful adventures together. Your family had met him so many times that they adored him, he was part of the family. He was the most wonderful man, a provider and he supported your hobbies and even drove you to work at the nearby cafe where you were a waitress. Multiple times a day older customers would ask how it was going and you would tell them the truth- perfect. You were out of the honey moon stage and were well into jut being a comfortable and happy couple, but it never dimmed your love and obsession with each other.

And now here you both were, a year later. You had moved in with Leon now, and his apartment was now a perfect mix of you both pink and navy blues mixed with blacks and whites littered the apartment and it felt good. It was home. It was heaven. Nothing could compare to the feeling of walking home from work and into the apartment, having a relaxing shower and beginning dinner just in time for when Leon arrived home. He would pepper you in kisses and whisper words of adoration before telling you about his day nearly pleading at you for you to tell him about your day.

But it came back to now, sat in Claire and Chris’ basement. Claire, Chris and Carlos all sat on the floor surrounding Jill who was talking animatedly. None of them had managed to date her yet and you can’t stop the giggle leaving your lips. They would continue to try and You and Leon had a bet, You bet that Claire would win Jill’s heart whilst Leon said Chris was going to. Poor Carlos, but in both of your defences he was a well known ladies man, a player but he had the sweetest soul. Chris was dressed in black baggy jeans and a heavy metal t shirt and you noted his hair was Cut. Clair had a cute long sleeved red t shirt on and black leather pants and she looked amazing, her hair was in a claw clip and she had some eyeliner on. Carlos just had his grey sweats on and a black t shirt, he was definitely trying his best but you noted that he had started to take care of his curls and his hair was beautiful and healthy. The leader, Jill, say in navy blue jeans and a black print t shirt, she was stunning without even trying.

But your attention was quickly pulled away by a clearing of a throat, but it wasn’t from the sofa like the first time, instead it was from right beside you. You turn your head and there he is, his eyes already red and a dopey grin on his face. His hair his fluffy and despite the red and dilated eyes you can still see that beautiful ocean blue colour shining through. He was dressed in his black compression t shirt and some black jogging bottoms. And you were dressed in one of his t shirts, it had long sleeves and feel to your knees. It was a black, long sleeve t shirt that had a cool goth design of death on it. Matched with some white thigh highs and white trainers, you hair had little white bows.

Leon gently guides you to the sofa where you first ever saw him and he sits down first before gently pulling at your hips and pulling you onto his lap. You swing you legs and look around before you see Mia and Ethan again, both of them whispering sweet nothings and making you awkwardly before sharing a blunt. Leon pulls you closer and he rests his head on your shoulder. “We’re back, Buttercup.” He whispers. You nod and idly play with his fingers, “We are,” He hums, his eyes dazed from the weed and from sentimentality. “My girl,” He mumbles and you remember when he first staked his claim on you.

So much had changed yet nothing had, it seemed mundane but it was so peaceful. The plumes of smoke fill the air and Leon presses a small kiss to your pulse points. “I’ll never forget when you first walked in, dressed so damn cute, what else was I meant do baby? Not fall in love with you? And you were scared I’d play you-” He snorts and bursts into laughter, “Not ever gonna happen. Prettiest girl, with the best personality. Best pussy, Funniest girl, Sweetest smile, Kindest eyes. Ain’t another girl like you.” He rambles and you kiss his cheek, getting your lip gloss on his cheek. His eyes light up and the dopey smile grows wider. “You’re the best man I’ve ever met. Thank you for letting me date you.” You whisper.

He nuzzles his nose against yours, “Don’t thank me. Was never gonna say no. That’s just dumb, only wanted you. Now I have you and I’m never letting you go. Gonna marry you, have kids anything and everything. ‘S me and you,” He coos and you kiss him slowly and softly as his hand creeps up your thighs and squeezes it. You smile and peck his lips again. “I love you.” You whisper. “I love you too.” He responds.

As you continue your idle babble together, watching your friends fight for affection and love you can’t stop yourself from repeatedly reflect on how it all started in this room. From a single glance and Leon being a stubborn and jealous pretty boy desperate for your eyes on him, after all he had his eyes on you from the second you walked in. You’re snapped out of your trance from shuffling and a clang, Leon huffs having dropped his lighter. You lean down and grab it and Leon puts the joint back in his mouth, “C’mon. Spark me up, Buttercup.” He mutters as the joint wiggles between his lips. You leave forward and light it up for him. “Anything for you, puppy boy.” You coo back, your first ever nickname for him and he smiles. Nothing could be more perfect than this.

[alisonfelixwrites]

the deal - part 1/3 (*) [harry styles au]

//

part two, part three.

summary: in which harry & claire are both single parents and their kids are best friends in school. atlas & finn are six years old and want to hang out all the time even if their parents don't get along .... at first.

word count: 23,973

content warning: smut!! (not too much for my standards lol). mentions of drug use, single parenthood with neglect from the other parent, mentions of physical/emotional abuse

this one is also already on my wp (to be found under 'muse')!! but she deserved her own moment on tumblr because this is one of my faves ❤️

//

“Oh my god.” The voice of a distressed woman behind the wheel sounded through the car.

Claire pressed her hand down on the honk once more, “Fucking move!” She roared before swerving to the side, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The many curse words easily tumbled from her dry lips as she made her way through a part of town she hadn’t often driven through.

Her old Toyota stood out like a sore thumb between all the fancy cars of the fancy people who resided here in these fancy homes. She was sure that if they took one look at her, her Burger King outfit would stand out too against the bright blue of her old car.

“Why the fuck do you drive a Tesla when you don’t even know how to use it!” Claire continued shouting, making hand gestures to the other drivers. An elderly woman driving a BMW gave her a disgusted look and Claire simply rolled her eyes, speeding off now that the intersection had finally cleared a bit.

Her heart was hammering in her throat and her hands were tightly clamped around the wheel. With her cap still on her head, Claire hadn’t had the time to get changed once she noticed the many missed calls on her phone. She simply jumped into her car after her shift and drove like a maniac to try and keep the damage to a minimum.

Waze finally showed the place she had to be at, and she came to a screeching halt before clumsily driving up a massive driveway which held a Land Rover and an old Volkswagen Beetle. Claire jumped out of the car and rushed up to the front door, completely out of breath.

Jamming her finger on the doorbell over and over again, she noticed a set of lights being turned on in the hallway before the door was yanked open.

“I’m so sorry!” She immediately blurted out, being met with a man who shot her an angry and very judging glare. Claire couldn’t blame him. She had fucked up.

He towered over her, blocking the doorway to his house as Claire shifted on her feet. He took a quick glance at her outfit, “I take it you’re Claire Carter?”

“Yes.” She breathed, “Shit, I-I’m so sorry I’m so late.” She palmed her forehead, fatigue taking over. Her entire body ached after standing on her feet for so many hours, faking polite smiles at the customers who did nothing but treat her like shit. She reeked of fries and couldn’t wait to take a shower.

The man in front of her wore joggers and a casual, white shirt. He had a clip holding his brown hair away and some scruff on his jaw. The judging look he sent her made Claire wish the ground could swallow her whole. He eventually exhaled, “You’re the one who forgot her child at school?” The snide tone of his voice made Claire press her lips together.

She lowered her eyes and swallowed, “Look, I’m just here to pick up Atlas.” Her voice was softer now, “Where is he?”

“Inside.” The man nudged his head inside his house, “Playing with my boy.”

Claire nodded, “Right. You’re Finn’s dad, aren’t you? Atlas talks about him a lot."

“Yeah.”

Silence took over and Claire glanced into the hallway behind him, “So… Can you tell him I’m here? Or can I come in?” A hint of impatience laced her voice. It was already late and Claire knew the never ending amount of chores that were waiting for her at home. Not to mention she had to get Atlas to bed on time to not disrupt their entire weekend schedule.

“He’s a good kid, you know?” The man spoke, snapping Claire out of her thoughts. She flicked her eyes up at him before frowning softly, “I’m aware. I’m raising him.”

“No, like… He’s a good kid. Teacher was raving about him. I went in to pick up Finn and they were the only two left. The teacher was about ready to leave and she couldn’t reach you. She was about to call the police.”

Claire’s cheeks turned an embarrassed shade of pink as she swallowed. She was being lectured by this man, who clearly judged her for not being a decent parent and forgetting to pick up her child after school. Claire’s stomach turned, knowing full well she already wasn’t making a good impression with the people of Atlas’ new school. She was hardly ever there to drop him off or pick him up and had a sitter do those things. She had never even met most of the teachers or the other parents, which was very frowned upon at that school.

“I’d like to take him home now.” Claire repeated, her voice a little hoarse, “It’s late.”

“Wonder why.” He scoffed before sighing and turning around, “Finn!” He yelled into the house. Claire felt her bottom lip wobbling, attempting to recompose herself before the sheer look of disgust of this man brought her to tears.

She soon heard little footsteps running over the wooden floors of the house, which honestly was more of a mansion. Even when Claire felt like shit, the sight of her little boy with his shaggy blonde hair, cheered her up immediately. With a wide grin on her face, she crouched down, opening up her arms for him to jump into her.

“Hi, baby!” Claire squeaked, spinning him around as Atlas clung to her. He had some sort of stain on his shirt but Claire didn’t mind, holding his body close to hers. “Hi, mummy! I missed you today.” Atlas bubbled in response. Claire hummed before putting him down, already feeling the massive ache in her back, “I know, I missed you too.”

Her eyes then flicked to the boy standing in the doorway too, his dad having a protective hand on the top of his back. “Hi.” Claire smiled, holding out her hand, “You must be Finn.”

“Yes.” He timidly spoke, offering her a small smile. He shook her hand with little enthusiasm, “Are you Atlas’ mum?”

“Yeah, ‘m Claire.” She smiled back before straightening up, “Well, thank you again. We should get going.”

“That your car?” Finn’s father nudged his head towards the blue Toyota and Claire exhaled, “Yes.”

“Hm.”

She refrained from rolling her eyes, “Have a good night.” She mumbled, not even waiting for his response. Atlas shouted a goodbye to Finn, waving excitedly before climbing into the passenger seat of the car. Claire checked her mirrors, avoiding the shocked eyes at all costs that her kid was getting in the front seat of the car.

Claire being the responsible parent she was couldn’t afford to fix the broken safety belts of the backseat, so Atlas drove up front with her. Backing out of the long driveway, she watched Finn and his father disappear back inside of the huge house.

“’M sorry, baby. Mum had to work late.” Claire yawned softly as they hit traffic again to drive home, “Did you have fun with your friend?”

“Yes, Finn’s really nice. A little quiet.” Atlas spoke. Claire hummed, “Are you hungry?”

“No! Harry made us dinner.”

“Harry.” Claire nodded, “That Finn’s dad?”

“Yes. He’s nice.”

Claire huffed and took a left, “Debatable.” She mumbled under her breath, not for Atlas to hear. The rest of the car ride was filled with Atlas’ babbles that Claire honestly loved. He spoke about nothing important most of the time but she loved hearing his voice and the way he saw the world, what observations he made. In her mind, she was already thinking about tomorrow though.

She had the Saturday-shift to cover too, so Atlas was spending the day with his father. The thought alone made Claire’s stomach clench but she tried to push it away. He deserved a shot at two parents and perhaps Evan really did deserve another chance to prove himself as a father.

The heavy door to the appartement hardly budged as Claire put her entire weight against it to open it up. The entire building shook as she did so, and she could tell the neighbours were listening to the news through the thin walls of this crappy building.

No one ever said it was this hard to be an uneducated, unsupported single mum.

With a heavy sigh, Claire ran her fingers through Atlas’ blonde whisps as he excitedly walked into their home. As always, both kicked off their shoes by the door and headed through the narrow hallway – passing both their bedrooms – towards the living area. Pizza boxes were on the counter from last night and Claire was glad Atlas had already eaten at his friend’s house because in all her haste, she even forgot to pick up groceries.

Ignoring the rumbling of her own stomach, she decided on a quick shower to feel fresh and clean again before snuggling up on the couch with Atlas to watch some of his favourite shows. Claire fought to keep her eyes open, refusing to go to sleep before her six year-old did.

Life was pathetic enough as it was.

She couldn’t shake the look of absolute judgement and despise she had received from Harry. Yes, she had forgotten to pick up her child after school. Yes, she had driven like a maniac and showed up at his door dressed in her Burger King outfit, hours late. Yes, they had been close on calling the cops on her.

But that didn’t make her a bad mother.

Claire sighed, gently stroking her fingers over Atlas’ forehead as he sucked on his thumb. It was a habit she tried to get him to shake, but simply didn’t have the energy to constantly point it out to him. He was too old to still be doing that, but part of Claire knew that even Atlas was traumatized from the shit he had witnessed as a baby and an infant.

It had taken Claire two years to get away from Evan and the past four years had been hell. And bliss at the same time.

She didn’t think she’d be a single mum at twenty-eight, making ends meet and having no savings to start something up. But Atlas was kind, fun and energetic. Now that he was a bit older, it was like having a mini-me. She could always talk to him and he was intelligent for his age, following along easily in the topics Claire spoke to him about. He was respectful albeit a little wild at certain times.

In his previous school they had called him a ‘wild child’ who ‘acted out because of the way his mother raised him’. Simply because he had learned the word ‘fuck’ from Claire and had yelled it out in class.

Once.

Claire thought she’d be done with the judgement, but after only a few weeks in his new school she could already sense it again. If not from the teachers, then definitely from the other parents. She was happy Atlas made friends so easily and that he was such an open, approachable kid, but she could really do without the critiques of the others.

It was on Monday that she saw Harry again.

After much whining from Atlas, Claire decided to drop him off at school herself for the first time. Along with all the other parents in line, she was crouched down in front of him to make sure everything was in his backpack for the day. She was parked with one wheel on the curb in front of a garage, so she really didn’t have much time.

Glancing around to check for police in the street, Claire hurried up and stuffed everything in his backpack, “There, you’ve got everything.”

“Thank you, mummy.” Atlas grinned. A dimple popped in his cheek, one of the things he inherited from Evan. Claire’s stomach turned at the memory. Another memory was the ache in her arm from the bruise she had there. A much more recent memory, from picking up Atlas on Saturday.

She wasn’t sure who had reacted worse to her being late for pick-up. Harry, who had stared her down and made her feel insignificant, or Evan, who had grabbed her and shoved her against the wall while yelling in her face.

“Good boy.” Claire proudly smiled, cupping his cheeks and pressing a kiss to his forehead, “You be good today, hm? Belle will be here to pick you up after school.”

Atlas’ face dropped, “Belle?” He pushed his bottom lip out into a pout, “Why not you?”

“I have to work, honey.” Claire sighed, “But I’ll be home for dinner.”

“But I don’t like Belle.” Atlas whined, “She stinks.”

Claire could feel a few pairs of eyes on her and rolled her lips inside of her mouth, “Well, that’s because she smokes so much. But I have to work, I’ve explained this to you.” Claire kept her voice down but Atlas whined louder, jutting out his lip, “But mummy!”

“Atlas.” Claire sternly whispered, shaking her head to him, “I’ll see you for dinner, end of discussion.”

He stared at the ground with a thick frown in his forehead, refusing to look at her, “Fuck.” He whispered.

Claire’s eyes widened, “Atlas! No,” She held up her finger, “you promised me you’d never say it again.” Her cheeks flamed up as the parents next to her had definitely heard that. Atlas shrugged while staring at the tips of his worn-out sneakers, “You say it all the time.”

“I’m an adult.” Claire sighed before scratching above her brow. Her hair was in a low bun and she wore jeans and a large hoodie, “Look, just go inside, hm? Class is about to begin, don’t want you to be late.”

Atlas didn’t look at her anymore, simply turned around and walked off. A lump formed in Claire’s throat as she watched him, and her hands fiddled with the sleeves of her jumper, “I love you! Have a good day!” She called after him, but he didn’t react. Exhaling a shaky breath, Claire tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Hi!” She heard the voice from next to her, “Are you Atlas’ mum?”

Claire forced a smile, staring at the perfectly done make-up of one of the mums next to her, “Hi.” She nodded, “Yes, I’m Claire. Nice to mee you.”

“Hi, I’m Dolores.” The woman smiled back with her pearly white teeth, “One of my girls is in Atlas’ class. Betty.”

“Oh,” Claire raised her brows, “yeah, I think Atlas has mentioned her.”

Another mum joined the conversation, “So you’re Atlas’ mum, hm? We all thought it was that gothic sixteen year old.” She laughed, referring to Belle and her dark make-up and black clothes. Claire pressed her lips together, “No, that’s just his sitter. She lives in the building with us, so it’s easy.”

“Hm.” The third woman simply nodded, “Well, me and Dolores are off to have some coffee. Would you care to join?”

Claire forced a smile, “Thank you for the offer, but I have to get to work. It was nice to meet you.” She shot an awkward wave and turned around, stopping dead in her tracks when she near bumped into Harry. Claire was only eye level with his chest and shortly looked up, sending him a nod, “Hi.” She went to stride past him but Harry stopped her, turning around with her, “Nice outfit.”

She could hear the judgement in his voice and rolled her eyes before turning to face him, “Look, I could really do without all those comments of yours. I thanked you for looking after Atlas on Friday, there’s really no need for you to behave like that.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest while firmly keeping her feet on the ground. Harry wore a loose, grey cable knit jumper and some blue jeans that hung loosely around his legs. His hair was back in that little clip to keep it away.

The other mums were out of earshot and Harry frowned, taking a step closer to Claire, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” She stood her ground although her voice wavered, “I know you think you’re better than me. And you probably are. Sue me for working a lot so I can provide for my kid. Sometimes it happens that I lose track of time or that I cover a shift. ” She bit before turning around and stomping off.

Harry watched her, scoffing under his breath. His eyes lingered as the blonde walked up to her horribly parked car, near flipping of another driver who honked at her for crossing randomly. The car moved from how harshly she slammed the door shut before she drove off. He shook his head to himself. That reckless driving with a six year-old next to her was dangerous.

He turned back with his hands in his pockets, feeling the eyes of the other mums on him. Harry was basically the only father who made it to drop-off moments. It caused most of the other mums to shoot their shot somehow and flirt with him, which he always rolled his eyes at.

He shot Finn one last wave, watching as he hurried up to walk next to Atlas. Both immediately broke out into a grin and Harry sighed, part of him wishing Finn could’ve found another friend in class. Finn was a little quiet and timid, which is why it surprised Harry that he gravitated towards someone as loud and extraverted as Atlas.

Before Atlas transferred schools, Finn never really mentioned many of his classmates. He often played by himself and never asked to invite anyone over for a playdate. Ever since a few weeks, he talked about Atlas all the time.

So when Harry saw the little blonde boy, waiting for his mum who had promised to pick him up, he took it upon himself to take him home and care for him until they got a hold of one of his parents. He had overheard the teachers talking about it, and only one name was on the call sheet.

Claire Carter.

A blonde-haired hurricane who showed up at his door by the time it was dark. The muted brown of her Burger King-outfit didn’t fit her or compliment her in any way. Even from the distance, Harry could see the fire in her eyes, hidden by a lot of fatigue.

But he didn’t really care in that moment. She had put her child in danger, and Harry could never imagine forgetting to pick up Finn from school or not notifying the teacher. He simply couldn’t understand how that happened.

He wasn’t able to keep his snide remarks down, somehow feeling so frustrated with her that she was so casual about fucking forgetting her child.

But he had quickly developed a soft spot for Atlas. Partly because he was making feel Finn so at ease, and partly because he was just a funny, goofy and playful kid. Harry had overheard them as they played together, and he constantly asked Finn questions. Asking how he was doing, asking if he felt okay, asking if he had a good day at school. It was gentle and caring.

Until he had heard Atlas slipping in a curse word and Harry’s eyes had widened tremendously.

After meeting his mum, he wasn’t really all that surprised anymore.

***

“Booze?” Harry frowned as Claire handed him the bottle of scotch.

She sheepishly shrugged, “You don’t drink?”

“Uh – no, I do.” Harry breathed, eyeing the label and seeing some knock-off version of cheap scotch. He cleared his throat, “’S just a bit of a weird gift to thank someone for looking after your kid.”

“Well, I didn’t know what to get you. Don’t think you need another stick to push up your ass.” Claire muttered and Harry glared at her, “Anything else?”

They were back in the same position. Claire was on the grass in front of Harry’s house as he stood in the doorway after Finn and Atlas ran inside. It was a Saturday and even though Claire had felt excited about spending a day with Atlas, he had asked her for a playdate with Finn.

And so here she was, dropping him off at his best friend’s house.

“No.” She breathed, “Not really. You’re just going to text me if I can come pick him up?”

Harry nodded, “Sure. Any allergies or something I need to be aware of for lunch?”

“No, he’s all good. Not a big fan of spinach if you were considering that.” Claire informed him. Harry softly nodded, “Fine then, bye.” He closed the door and Claire huffed, shaking her head. She hoped for Atlas’ sake that Finn wasn’t as much of a bitch as his father.

But disaster struck the moment Claire got in her car and tried to start it, only for her car the make the most pathetic noise and shut down.

“No.” She groaned, “God, please, no.” She tried again, jamming her key in it only to receive no response. Claire sat in the driver’s seat for a good ten minutes, simply refusing to get out and knock on Harry’s door again to ask him for help. She refused. Stubbornly, she sat in the seat until she got too bored and

Finally pushing her pride aside, she got out of the car in the scorching sun. Her arms crossed in front of her, she sighed while ringing Harry’s door again. He opened up with that same frown, “Forgot something?”

“I never left.” Claire deadpanned, “My car’s dead. Won’t start. Can I come inside to call a mechanic? It’s boiling.”

“I can feel that. ‘S like an oven.” Harry glanced outside before opening up the door wider, “Fine, come in.”

“Thank you.” She breathed. Harry cringed at her sandy shoes as she strolled through his hallway and straight into the kitchen like she had been here a billion times before. “Where are the kids?” She questioned while sitting down on a barstool.

“Yeah, make yourself at home, why don’t you.” Harry sarcastically spoke before leaning against the counter, “Upstairs. Finn’s got a playroom.”

“A playroom.” Claire nodded while scrolling her phone while searching for a mechanic, “Fancy.”

“Had to do something with my ex’s empty art studio.”

The comment made Claire flick her eyes up. Harry was staring out the window with his arms crossed. The stubble was more prominent now than a week before and the sun coming through definitely accentuated his prominent jaw and the shape of his lips. Claire put her phone down as she leaned her arms on the countertop, “Want to talk about it?”

Harry huffed softly, “No. Did you find a mechanic yet?”

“Do you know anyone in this neighbourhood? That I can like… afford.” Claire muttered the last part and Harry pressed his lips together, “Yeah, I’ll call my car guy. Don’t have to worry about money.”

“Your car guy?”

“Mhm.” Harry was on his phone, a concentrated frown on his forehead. Claire tilted her head to the side, “That’s… I mean, how often do you need a car guy?”

“Just sometimes.” Harry shrugged, “The old beetle outside gives up every once in a while. I call him and he comes here, it’s easy.”

“Both cars are yours?” Claire asked in clarification, and Harry hummed, “Yes.”

“Wow.” She mumbled, nodding to herself, “Must be nice.”

Harry rolled his eyes at her remark and then called his car guy, sharing a few quick words with him before hanging up again, “He’ll be here soon.”

Claire nodded, “Don’t you have jumper cables?”

“No, my car guy does.”

“Right.” She breathed. They were left in silence for a bit as the coffee was running. Harry hadn’t asked her if she wanted any, but poured her a cup either way and Claire didn’t complain. The longer the silence lasted, the more comfortable it became as both scrolled on their phones for a bit, the occasional sigh coming from Harry’s mouth.

Giggles and small feet carried themselves through the hallway.

“Daddy!!” Finn bubbled as both him and Atlas ran into the kitchen. Harry’s brows raised at the sight of his son, “Bub, where’s your shirt?”

“Atlas and I want to swim!” He ignored the question and Harry chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, “Now?”

Atlas excitedly jumped, “Swim!”

“Atlas.” Claire chuckled while shaking her head, “You don’t know how to swim.”

Harry flicked his eyes to hers, “He can’t swim?” And Claire shook her head, “No, he hasn’t been taught yet.”

“Hm.” Harry exhaled, “Uh – well, I have floaties. Finn, you should use them too.”

“But, daddy!” The boy whined, “I can swim!” He stomped his foot down and Harry huffed, “In a kiddie pool. Not in a pool this deep.”

Finn pouted and Claire fought her smile at how adorable he looked, “But, daddy…” He tried again, “you always come in the pool with me and swim with me and throw me around and then save me.” He explained. Claire’s lips curled up in a smile, “Oh, do you?” She flicked her eyes to Harry who scoffed slightly before crouching down to Finn’s level, “Buddy, I have to fix something with Atlas’ mum’s car, so I can’t come in the pool right now. Besides, I have some work to do in the office. I thought you guys would be nice and quiet for me today?”

“We can be quiet in the pool.” Atlas butted in and Harry shook his head, “It’s gonna be a no. I can’t supervise when you guys are in the pool and it’s too dangerous.”

“Mummy,” Atlas whispered, tugging on Claire’s sleeve. She turned to face him as Harry ruffled Finn’s hair, who couldn’t hide the disappointment for the life of him.

“Yes?” She smiled at Atlas, who nibbled his lip a little, “Why don’t we have a pool?”

Claire took a breath, “Because we live in an apartment.”

“Yeah.” Atlas lowered his eyes, “But I like being outside. Finn has a very big garden to play in.”

Claire’s heart clenched as she exhaled before pressing her lips together. Atlas looked at her with big, green eyes, expecting an answer she couldn’t give him. Claire couldn’t tell him she also really wanted a house with a garden and a pool and a dog, giving Atlas the room he craved to play and be wild. He had a lot of energy and no real way to get rid of that in their small, dingy apartment.

Harry saved her though, clearing his throat, “Atlas, you can borrow swimming trunks from Finn. You guys get in the pool for a while once I grab the floaties.” The cheers sounded loudly through the room even though Harry wasn’t finished yet, “Only for a little while!” He held his finger up, “I have to work!”

Before the final word had left his lips, Finn and Atlas had bolted out of the room and back up the stairs and Harry let out a sigh, checking his watch. Claire followed his gaze, noticing his bony fingers tapping on the countertop in thought. The veins wrapping around his arm led her eyes up to the tattoos on his skin.

“I can stay too.” She offered, taking a sip of her coffee.

Harry seemed snapped out of his thoughts, “Hm?”

Claire cleared her throat, “I can stay too. You said you need to get work done and I have a free day. I can stay by the pool with the boys. I don’t mind, if you don’t have the time for it.”

“I want to have the time for it.” Harry clarified and Claire nodded, “I know. But it’s fine if you don’t. You can’t have time for everything.”

Harry scratched his jaw in thought, “I don’t have like bathing suits here. Astrid took all her stuff.”

Astrid.

Claire shrugged, “I’m wearing black underwear. Decent enough, not like… a thong or anything.” She mumbled. Harry fought the flaming of his cheeks before huffing out a chuckle, “Or you could stay by the edge and just put your legs in.”

“Atlas doesn’t know how to swim. Floaties or not, I’m getting in the water with him.” Claire frowned.

Harry sighed and nodded, “Yeah. I mean – uh… If you don’t mind? I really have a project to finish today, I have to meet the deadline or I’m losing this client.”

“What is it that you do exactly?”

“I’m an architect.” Harry mumbled, clearly still lost in thought at Claire’s offer. He nibbled his lip as she nodded, digesting the information. It made sense. Harry worked from home and on his own schedule, which meant he was free to drop Finn off and pick him up from school all the time.

“And you didn’t have any other plans today? On your free day?”

Claire let out a breath, “I – uh… Seeing as Atlas asked for this playdate, I actually planned an actual date this afternoon.” She tilted her head to the side while squinting her eyes at her screen, “But judging by this guy’s texts… he’s about to cancel on me either way so, yeah.” She sighed and put her phone back down, forcing Harry a small smile.

He whistled teasingly, “A date, hm? Spicy.”

“Not all of us are a hundred years old.” She rolled her eyes and Harry huffed out a laugh, “How old do you think I am, Claire?” The playfulness in his tone was something Claire wasn’t used to from him. The Harry she had seen so far in their previous encounters, was uptight and moody. His dimple popped in his left cheek as he smirked slightly.

She faked a small smile back, “Considering your gigantic frown lines, I’d say nearing your forties.”

“Ouch.” Harry placed his hand on his chest, “You wound me. Thirty-four, actually, but thanks. I’ll make some changes to my skincare routine. Noted.”

Claire giggled and shook her head, “I was kidding.”

“Funny girl, aren’t you?”

Claire flicked her eyes up, sensing a shift in Harry’s tone. He had lose the tension in his shoulders, softly smirking at her now from the opposite side of the kitchen as he leaned against the countertop. She lowered her eyes again and Harry cleared his throat, “So, going on a date, hm? First date?”

“Yes.” Claire breathed, “First and last date, which is how it usually goes.”

“Why?”

“Oh, you know,” She shrugged, her fingers toying together, “I show up in a pretty dress and flirt and play them a little. It’s all fun and games in the beginning until the real conversations start and it comes up that I’m a mother, raising Atlas by myself.”

Harry slowly nodded and Claire smiled, “You know, they’re usually fine with me having a son. Like, that’s alright mostly. But once they realize I don’t have a week-week schedule with my ex and actually have Atlas near every day, that’s where they draw the line. Like they don’t want to share.” She shrugged, “So that’s where it ends. I’m lucky if I can get some decent sex out of it. Which doesn’t happen often.”

Harry sputtered out a laugh at her bluntness before shaking his head to himself, “Wow. Yeah, I see why it sticks to one date. I could never be with someone who doesn’t appreciate Finn or doesn’t want to spend time with him.”

“It’s a package deal.”

He nodded in agreement, “Sure is.”

Claire leaned her elbow on the countertop and stared at him, “How about you?”

“Me?” Harry chuckled, shaking his head, “Nah. Eternal bachelor.”

She frowned while smiling, “I don’t believe that for a second. I know I’ve only been there to drop off Atlas once, but I could see all those soccer moms making eyes at you.”

“They’re all married.” He rolled his eyes, “And not my type.”

“Rich and beautiful is not your type?” Claire chuckled and Harry shrugged, “Apparently not.”

Silence fell over them again until Harry took a breath, “I’m gonna head up to the office. Grab whatever you want from the fridge or anything. There’s sunscreen in the bathroom and obviously the pool is outside. I’ll go grab the floaties from Finn’s room.”

“Yeah, okay.” Claire nodded. She checked her phone again, just seeing the message come in of her date, cancelling on her and asking to reschedule. She puckered her lips, remembering how he was some hot shot at an up and coming lawyer firm. She didn’t exactly expect him to have time for her on a Saturday.

With Harry’s footsteps heading up the stairs, Claire slowly got up from her barstool and roamed the kitchen. She stared out the window, seeing the pale blue pool in the large garden. It looked inviting, she had to admit. Even if it was nearing the end of September, it was exceptionally warm.

The house felt silent with both boys and Harry upstairs, and Claire’s feet took her to the crispy white living room. Every piece of furniture here looked like it was made by designers and she was nearly scared to touch anything. There weren’t much toys here and then Claire remembered Finn having a playroom upstairs.

As her eyes darted over the pictures on the wall, they stayed put on the brunette in some of the frames. There were about two of her and a younger Finn. The other ones were of Harry and Finn, or a standalone Finn.

Claire figured it was Astrid, Harry’s ex. She was beautiful, obviously. Looking at Finn, he was a gorgeous little boy with obvious great genes.

Just a few minutes later, Claire was outside with both excited boys. Finn and Atlas were around the same size, with Atlas just being a tad taller. Both wore little swimming trunks with either ducks or boats on them and stood perfectly still as Claire put sunscreen on them.

She didn’t see Harry staring at them from the window above. His laptop was open and he was drawing, he really was. Or he tried to. But he stood against the windowsill up on the first floor, staring down the length of his garden. The water of the pool looked inviting and he could see Finn’s wide grin from a mile away.

Claire grinned too, her blonde hair pinned back now with one of Harry’s ballpoints holding it together. It was inventive, he had to give her that. Her hands smoothed over Finn’s back to put the product on him before she gently slid the floaties around the boy’s arms. They both patiently waited at the edge of the pool, excited to jump in.

Harry’s leg twitched a little when his eyes were on her. She kicked off her shoes, a pair of mom jeans on her legs that she popped. The dryness in his throat once she slid the pants down her legs, was something Harry didn’t anticipate. Black underwear was revealed. Simple cotton with just a small lace border.

Harry thanked his impeccable eyesight to see every detail of Claire from a distance. She was shaped beautifully, with curvy thighs and a dip in her waist which was revealed as she lifted the navy top over her head to reveal an equally black bra.

He saw hints of a tattoo on the back of her shoulder, but Claire moved too quickly for Harry to notice it. Urging the boys to get in the pool, she elegantly got in with them.

A small smile tugged on Harry’s lips as he watched the first few minutes of their playing. Atlas and Finn mostly splashed around, ruining Claire’s plans to keep her hair dry. She tossed the ballpen to the side, ducking underneath the water to get in all the way.

She played with Atlas a bit, and Finn too. He laughed loudly as Claire threw him around a little bit, playing gently with him. They did a bit of a race where she purposely let him win while Atlas splashed a little more, without his swimming experience.

It was hours later, when Claire was fresh out of the pool and drying on the sunbed – with both boys running around the garden and giggling – that she felt a towel being dropped on her stomach. Her eyes snapped open in surprise and she squinted, Harry blocking the sunlight a little, “Hi.” He chuckled.

“Oh, hi.” She smiled, sitting up a bit and grabbing the towel, “Thank you.”

“’S fine.” His eyes glanced around the garden, “Did they have fun?”

Claire wrapped the towel around her to dry off, “Yeah. I don’t understand how they’ve got so much energy left, even I need a nap. Two is too much.”

“I’ve honestly never seen Finn this loud.” Harry smiled as his son ran through the garden with Atlas chasing him, “They’re pretty good friends.”

“They are.” Claire smiled as she followed his gaze, “Infectuous, really.”

“They didn’t give you too hard of a time?”

“Not at all. Finn’s a sweet a boy.”

Harry smiled as he nodded, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his pants, “He is.”

“How about you? Finished your project?”

“Yep.” Harry stretched his arms now, yawning a little, “I need a nap too.” He joked.

Claire got up with a mischievous glint in her eyes, the towel around her form as she took a few steps closer to Harry. He involuntary took a few back, but she was still close enough that he could see the freckles on her nose and the remains of an old scar above her brow.

“What are you doing?” He spoke in a strained voice, taking a few steps back still to create some distance. He could feel himself breaking out into a sweat when Claire just continued to step closer to him. “Claire.” He pushed.

“You know what’s a great substitute for a nap?” She purred, daring to take another step closer to him. She could inhale his perfume and Harry held his breath when she batted her lashes. He swallowed thickly, “Hm?”

“A dip in the water.” She smiled, using a hand that she placed against his covered chest to give him a shove back. Harry’s eyes widened as he lost his balance, “Wh- Wait!” He yelped, reaching his arm out. Claire laughed, hardly caring that Harry managed to take a hold of her wrist and pull her in. Unlike him – who made a gigantic splash as he tumbled down – Claire managed to get in a dive and dip in elegantly.

The coolness of the water did wake Harry up immediately and he sputtered out as he reached the surface, shaking his hair out with his clothes completely soaked. Claire was laughing as she quickly took the towel to throw it on the grass and get it out of the water.

“Oh my god!” Harry laughed, splashing water at Claire, who giggled. Harry flicked his eyes to their two boys who seemed unaware, chuckling as he shook his head, “You dick.”

Claire gasped in fake shock, “Are you cursing?”

Harry rolled his eyes as he swam back over to the side, pushing himself out of the pool. Claire was mesmerized for a second, watching the way his shirt clung to him. The muscles in his back bulged as he pushed himself up, showing off every ridge.

“Shit.” Harry chuckled, opening up the buttons of his shirt, “I can’t believe you pushed me in the pool. What are you, six?”

Claire grinned and also got out of the water, feeling Harry’s eyes on her as she wrung out her hair, “No, twenty-eight.”

“You wouldn’t say.”

Claire stuck out her tongue and Harry huffed out a chuckle, “Brat.” He scoffed, “’M gonna grab towels.” He turned around to head into the house, his pants soaking wet and his shirt off. The light reflected off his muscular back and Claire near drooled. Harry handed her another fluffy towel and both sat down on the sunbed.

“So around what time are you going to offer me a drink?” Claire teased and Harry hummed, “I don’t drink around Finn.”

“Well, ‘m not gonna get blind drunk but I wouldn’t say no to some pink wine.”

“Yeah, not blind drunk, just…” He shrugged, “I don’t want to give the wrong example.”

Claire leaned back on her hands, letting herself dry in the heat of the burning sun, “Having a drink every once in a while isn’t setting the wrong example, Harry. You’re an adult.” She shrugged, “I mean, it’s your own decision obviously, but it’s impossible to be responsible all the time around your child.”

“Responsible…” Harry mused, “Like remembering to pick them up from school?”

“Dick.” Claire chuckled, nudging her shoulder into his playfully. Harry grinned, staring at the pool as the boys played still. Harry had changed out of his pants and put on some swimming trunks this time, in case Claire decided to shove him in the pool again. His hair was wet and dripping down his back, sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you again for that. Work just got… in the way.”

Harry turned his head to the side to watch her, “Don’t have to thank me again, that’s not why I said it. Was just making a joke.”

“I know.”

“You work a lot, don’t you? At Burger King?”

Claire exhaled a breath, “It’s not the most glamorous job and it doesn’t pay that much. But yes, I work a lot. I take a lot of shifts and often work weekends or late nights.”

“Is Atlas by himself when you work?”

“No,” Claire breathed, “I’m not that terrible of a mum.” Her voice held a hint of bitterness and she pressed her lips together, “There’s a young girl in my building who babysits for him. She’s like… seventeen maybe and she dropped out of school. She’s always available. The other mums said they’d seen her around to pick him up sometimes.”

“Oh, yeah…” Harry nodded, “like dark make-up, black hair?”

“Mhm, that’s Belle.”

“Isn’t it like… counter-productive? You have to pay her and then work while having to do so…”

“I earn more than whatever I have to pay her.” Claire mumbled, “Like I said, she’s not that expensive. I keep more than I have to give her.”

Harry nodded, “Right.” There was silence for a moment, “Look, ‘m sorry about giving you a hard time last week. I didn’t mean to like… shame you or anything.”

“No, I get it. It’s everyone’s first impression of me, trust me.” She chuckled, “That judgement is exactly why I pulled him out of his previous school, though. He heard people talking that I was never there, that I was leaving him on his own, that I wasn’t fit to be a parent. It’s painful because I’m really doing this all for him.”

Harry nodded again, listening to her. Claire fiddled with her fingers, “Like what he said about the pool earlier, you heard, right?"

“Mhm. I did.”

“Well, I want that too. I want to give him everything, I want him to have a nice childhood and I want to spend time with him. But I don’t have an education so I can’t really go for high-paying jobs. Just have to take what I can get and hope for flexible hours to be there for him.”

“You’re doing a lot, Claire.” Harry sympathized, “Seriously, ‘m sorry. I-I judged way too quick.”

“That’s fine.” She shot him a sly smile, “Happens when you’re old.”

Harry smiled and shook his head to himself, “And hey… I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you drop him off here whenever you have to work late or want some time for yourself? Finn and Atlas can spend time together, he could even stay the night if you want. And you don’t have to pay me.”

“What?” Claire frowned.

“I’m serious.” He shrugged, “It’s nice for Finn to have a friend. They’re joined at the hip.” Harry glanced over his shoulder to see both boys giggling together, a smile tugging on his lips, “I think they’d like it. He could eat here or I could grab him after school, bring him here. You can just come pick him up whenever you’re finished.”

Claire tilted her head to the side with a frown, “But… Don’t you have to work? Or go places?”

“Not really, to be honest.” Harry admitted, “I’m home all the time. A lot has changed since my divorce and I don’t have much of a social life anymore, just put Finn first. Wanted him to grow up with at least one present parent after all the arguing he had to witness as a baby. And I work for myself, got flexible hours. I work when he’s at school or when he goes to bed at night.”

Claire stared at him, “I-I mean… If you’re sure.”

“Of course.” Harry smiled, “Dead sure. You can even go on your dates on Saturday nights, or something.” He teased softly and Claire bit her lip, “You’re right. I can. I should text that guy to reschedule."

He hummed, “You can.” He then turned to face her, “So we’ve got a deal?”

Claire nibbled her lip, “And… you’d want nothing out of it?”

“No.” Harry shook his head, “Just doing it for Finn. And Atlas is a nice kid, Claire. He’s a good influence to bring Finn out of his shell.”

She smiled softly, her bubbly boy being a good influence made her so proud. “Okay. Then I guess we have a deal.”

They stupidly shook hands before bursting out in giggles. Claire hummed, bumping her shoulder into his again, “You’re not that bad, you know?”

“I know.” Harry playfully responded, “Neither are you."

“You’re the first mum-friend I’ve ever made in my life.”

“Oh god.” Harry groaned, “Don’t call me your mum-friend.”

Claire threw her head back in a laugh and Harry leaned back a little bit too, his eyes finally catching the ink on the back of Claire’s shoulder now that her hair dried a bit. He could see now, that it was a tattoo for Atlas. Literally a tattoo of Atlas, who carried the world. It was simple, and even a little disturbed with some dark bruises around it.

Harry swallowed, but decided not to comment on it.

***

“Hi, Harry!” Atlas bubbled as he waved at Harry. He was leaning against his car, sunglasses up his nose as he waved back, “Hi, bud.”

“Atlas!” Claire panted as she came running from across the street – having done another horrible parking job with her car. Harry smiled as she ran up to Atlas, crouching down to catch him in a hug. Atlas ran straight into her arms with a giggle and Claire hugged him, stroking his back, “Hi, baby. How was your day?”

“Good!” He smiled widely. Claire pressed a kiss to his cheek as she smiled.

“Bye Atlas! See you soon!” Finn’s voice sounded as he ran up to Harry, and Claire straightened up as she shot him a wave, “Oh, hi. Didn’t see you.”

Yeah, hey.” He smiled back, “Been here a while, I like to be early, Finn doesn’t like to wait.”

“Are you sure it’s still okay for tonight?”

He nodded, “Yep, ‘s fine.” Harry ruffled Atlas’ hair, “Gonna come over for a movie night, bud?”

“Can we watch Toy Story?!” Atlas excitedly gasped and Harry groaned a little under his breath, recovering quickly as he rolled his lips inside of her mouth, “Mhm.”

Claire chuckled, “Are you sure?” She softly asked him and Harry nodded again, “Positive, really. It’ll be fun.”

Her hair was up in a clip again, whisps of hair flying around. She wore a jumper even if it was boiling, and Harry could tell she was still wearing the Burger King shirt underneath, some of the muted brown sticking out of the neckline of her jumper. Claire took Atlas’ hand and waved at Harry and Finn, “See you tonight!”

“Bye!” Harry waved back, and Finn did too. As Harry urged Finn into the backseat, Dolores walked up to him. With her fresh bob-cut and perfect make-up, she sent him a smile, “Hi, Harry.”

“Dolores.” He nodded. She eyed him up and down, “Did I overhear you talking to Claire for a moment there?”

He pressed his lips together and nodded, “Mhm.” There was no point in lying about it, all eyes had been on them just a minute before. His eyes flicked to the other side of the street where Claire slammed her car door to drive off, not putting on her blinkers before she sped off. He wanted to roll his eyes at her driving behaviour but also knew he was super extreme with his careful driving.

“You know…” Dolores lowered her voice and came a little closer as Harry closed Finn’s car door. He straightened up and Dolores shortly glanced around, “There has been some talk. You know, a new mum… people always talk.” She shrugged as if it was the most normal thing. Harry stiffly nodded, “Naturally.” He vividly remembered all the gossip when word got around about what happened between him and Astrid.

“And well,” Dolores tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “Natalie heard that Claire has a past in drug abuse.” She was near whispering now, “And that she was married to a dealer.”

Harry let out a soft sigh, “Right.” He hardly listened, if he was honest. He knew better. Word got around quickly here, but everything got changed and manipulated. He knew better than to believe everything he heard around this town.

Dolores cleared her throat, “And that she was using while being pregnant. That poor boy… I mean, it’s clear that he’s got ADHD, and that could be a result of her abusing drugs while pregnant.”

Harry refrained from rolling his eyes, “Dolores,” He sighed, “even if it’s true, who cares? It’s her life and it’s been six years since she was pregnant. Let’s not meddle.” He simply spoke, forcing her a small smile.

“I’m just warning you,” Dolores put her hand on Harry’s arm and he flicked his eyes down to the touch with a frown in his forehead. Dolores swallowed, “She’s around Finn, Harry. Think about the influence…”

Harry cleared his throat and pulled his arm away, walking around his car to get behind the wheel, “Bye, Dolores.”

She opened her mouth to say more, but Harry was already in his car with the door closed. He didn’t spare her another glance before he drove off.

A few hours later, someone rang his door. Claire was fiddling with the top button of her dress as she waited for Harry to open his door. Atlas was by her side, excited for his movie night here as she had rescheduled with her date for tonight.

She was sort of excited, it had been a while since she had gone out. Her work schedule didn’t allow her to and she wanted to spend most nights with Atlas. Knowing he wasn’t just in the apartment with Belle scrolling on her phone, but was spending time with his friends eased her guilt a little of leaving him alone.

The lock clicked as Harry appeared, flashing a grin at Atlas, “Hey!”

“Hi, Harry!” He grinned back before turning to Claire, “Bye, mummy!!” He hardly waited for her response before sprinting into the house he knew rather well by now. Claire chuckled, “Yeah, bye. Love you too.”

Harry leaned against the doorpost, shortly scanning her outfit. He was used to seeing Claire either in her Burger King outfit or in jeans and a shirt. Now, she wore a dress. And make-up. It was clear to him she was making an effort. The slippers on her feet made his brows raise though, “Is he super short or something?” He nudged his head towards her feet.

Claire followed his eyes, “Oh, no, I don’t think so. I just can’t drive in heels so I’ll switch my shoes when I arrive.” She explained, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder, “By the way, if I’m done before midnight, I’m coming back over to pick him up.”

“In the middle of the night?” Harry frowned.

“Yeah, we sort of have our morning routing, Atlas and I. So I prefer picking him up and letting him sleep the rest of the night in his own bed. What time do you usually go to bed?”

Harry scratched his chin, “Yeah, around midnight.”

“Okay, but I’ll text you. Maybe he sucks and I’ll be back in an hour.”

His lips curled up in an amused smirk, “What’re dealbreakers to you, Claire?”

“I’d love to go over the list with you,” She grabbed a lipstick from her purse and blindly put it on, painting them a soft cherry red before rubbing them together, “but I’m going to be late if we get into that.”

Harry’s eyes zeroed in on Claire’s lips and he huffed out a chuckle, “Fine. Well, have fun. Be safe. Let me know when you’d come pick up Atlas.”

“Will do! Thank you.” Claire spun on her heel and headed back to her car, driving off the driveway to head to her date. Harry watched, feeling only slightly wary of her going by car instead of being picked up. He wondered if she’d drink during dinner and then drive, picking up Atlas to drive with him.

Dolores’ words ran through his head over and over again before he shook his head to himself and headed inside.

He checked his phone a few times, but Claire was actually having an okay time on her date. The guy who worked at the lawyer firm was charming and showed up in a suit. A bit stiff, Claire thought. And she was definitely underdressed. Her black dress looked classy but was cheap as fuck, and the buttons around her chest seemed near ready to pop.

His eyes were drawn to her tits most of the time as he drank the one scotch after the other. Their conversations started pleasantly and Claire got it out of the way first, immediately notifying him of the fact she had a six year-old son. He hadn’t responded much to it, just hummed and said it was cool.

As the evening progressed, Claire got a bit of an ick though. He seemed to talk mostly about herself and when he ended up not asking one single question about Atlas, Claire decided for herself that this was not it. He was near drunk once they finished their dinner and headed outside. He sloppily tried to kiss her and she turned him down, even having to stifle her laugh when he casually suggested they hook up just once.

He also called her a prude when she refused. Rolling her eyes, Claire got in her car. Before driving off, she quickly texted Harry.

Message to: Harry (Finn’s dad)

Coming back from the restaurant now, I’ll be there in twenty.

It was nowhere near midnight, but just past ten thirty in the evening. Claire had only been on her date a good few hours but it had felt like forever. With the window down, she drove up to Harry’s house again after another disappointing night. It had been the one shitty date after the other in the past few months.

Most lights in the house seemed off as Claire pulled up, getting out in her slippers and softly knocking on the door as to not alert the sleeping children. She heard footsteps, and soon Harry opened up. He looked a little sleepy and Claire suspected he had dozed off on the couch before she texted him that she was coming back.

“Hi.” She bit her lip, “Sorry, did I wake you?”

He stifled a yawn, “You didn’t. Put the boys to bed not too long ago and I was reading a little bit.” He opened the door wider for her, “Come in. How was the date?”

“Horrible.” Claire huffed, following him into the kitchen. Harry hummed, “Want some coffee? Or water? There’s also some dinner leftover if you want.”

“It actually smells so good in here.” Claire hummed, “If you’ve got any left, I’d like to.”

“Sure, I’ll heat some up. Tell me about the guy.”

Claire pushed herself up to sit on the countertop, “Well, he was just…” She shrugged, “Boring. And arrogant. He only talked about himself, was just overall rude and he drank so much, god… I hope he didn’t yet have to drive.”

Harry smiled softly at her words as he put a plate in the microwave. “How responsible of you.” He teased, repeating the words from last week that she had mocked him with. Claire smiled and rolled her eyes, “Hey, I have morals.”

“Hm.” Harry hummed, remembering Dolores’ words again. He turned around, “Here you go. Atlas really liked it.”

“Holy shit. Did you make this yourself?”

“Think I’ve got some private chef here, Claire?”

She shrugged, “Honestly, yes.” Her fork poked into a piece of chicken as she stuffed it in her mouth.

“Nah, I’m quite an okay cook. I like cooking actually.” Harry went to sit on the opposite countertop, his legs dangling over the edge as they were in the dimly lit kitchen, “Go on now, tell me five positive things about the date.”

“Five?” Claire’s eyes widened, “Uh…” She chewed for a bit, “well, one… he paid. So that was nice.” She narrowed her eyes in thought and Lennon chuckled softly, “Only one?”

“No, no, wait, let me think.” Claire shook her head, “Oh, well, he didn’t shame me when I wanted to have dessert. And when I said I had a kid, he said it was cool.”

“Cool?” Harry frowned, “That’s supposed to be a positive thing? The bar is very low.”

“It’s on the floor, let’s be honest.”

“So I assume it’s safe to say there won’t be a second date.”

Claire scrunched her nose, “Definitely not. He tried to kiss me and suggested sex.”

Harry’s brows raised, “Seriously? Bold.”

“You’d be surprised, dating isn’t the same as it was ten years ago.”

He hummed, “Apparently. Thank god I don’t have to go through that.” He shook his head to himself. He knew it could be brutal out there. Hell, Astrid had made it brutal for him. The thought of her left his stomach in clenches and he quickly pushed it all away.

“Harry, this is really good. Wow.” Claire near moaned as she ate more food and Harry smiled, “Thanks.” He felt proud at her compliment and shyly glanced down. Claire swallowed her bite, “So what did you three do tonight?”

“Watched Toy Story. Twice.”

Claire sputtered out a giggle, “No way.”

“Atlas is quite persuasive.” Harry chuckled, “But I was reading a little throughout. They were nice and quiet though, had some popcorn. They wanted to swim but I said no.”

“Stern.” Claire nodded and Harry shrugged, “Some might say, yes.”

Claire crossed her legs over one another and leaned back, “So… I’m curious. If you never go on a date, how long has it been since you’ve had sex?”

Harry chuckled to himself while shaking his head, “Nope. None of your business.”

Claire shrugged, “Fair enough.”

They sat in silence for a bit until Claire decided to head home. Harry guided her up the stairs to show the spare room where Atlas was sleeping. He was dazed until he laid eyes on his mum, a wide grin spreading over his face. Claire carried him downstairs and gently put him in the car before thanking Harry again and driving off.

***

“Thank you so much for watching him.” Claire breathed as she was at the door in her Burger King outfit. She looked exhausted, Harry noticed. Her hair was a little messy and she had bags under her eyes. It was a Thursday and almost a week after she had dropped Atlas off here to go on her date.

He hadn’t seen much of her throughout the week, or just shortly to pick up Atlas after school. Today, she had to pick up another shift so Harry took Atlas home after school to hang out with Finn.

“’S no problem.” Harry shrugged, “I’ve told you, Atlas is a nice kid to have around. He’s polite.”

“Yeah.” Claire tiredly smiled, “Can you go grab him?”

Harry scratched the back of his neck, “Mhm. Or – uh… we were just about to have dinner. You can join if you want.”

“That’s really nice,” Claire sighed, “but you’re already doing way too much for us. And I desperately need to shower.”

“I have showers.” He shrugged.

“Showers? Multiple?”

He chuckled, “Yes. C’mon,” he urged her, nodding his head inside the house, “it’ll be nice for the boys.”

It’s what he went with. That it was nice for the boys. Really trying to ignore the fact that it’d be nice for him too. Claire was easy to talk to and not as uptight or fake like all the other mums in the school. She was blunt and unapologetic, but very straightforward and without bullshit. He appreciated that now, whereas he didn’t at first.

She was trying her best, he could see that.

Claire eventually caved, nodding her head. She wore that horrific Burger King fit and Harry showed her where everything was in the bathroom, handing her a pair of joggers and a shirt of his.

The four of them sat around the dinner table later, with Claire only being slightly uncomfortable at how underdressed and casual she was. The clothes Harry handed her felt nice and soft, but she wasn’t used to having dinner in pyjamas with wet hair laying on her back and with anyone else besides Atlas.

“I have a question,” Harry popped, narrowing his eyes at Claire, “Do you ever eat burgers?”

She chuckled, shaking her head, “Absolutely not. Can’t stand burgers anymore. Besides, I see how they’re made and let me tell you… it’s a big no. I’m in the smell of it all day and I just…” She shuddered, “Nope.”

They fell silent again with just Finn and Atlas whispering something to one another until Finn nodded and cleared his throat, “Claire?” He spoke in a small, soft voice. Claire swallowed her bite and turned, “Yes?”

Finn looked a little nervous, shifting in his chair as he put his fork down and a slight flush rose over his cheeks, “Atlas said I could come to your house.”

Claire frowned slightly, shortly flicking her eyes to Atlas before clearing her throat, “I’m… what?”

“We always come here. I want to show Finn where we live.” Atlas piped up. Claire felt her cheeks heating up a little bit in embarrassment as she stared at her plate. Harry hummed, “That could be fun. Maybe we could all have dinner at your place?”

Claire licked her lip, refusing to look him in the eye, “That’s…well, that’s not possible. I-I don’t have a table that can fit four people.” She mumbled softly. Her shoulders slumped a little bit and Harry paused mid-chew to watch her as she kept her eyes on the food in her plate.

“Atlas, baby, we don’t really have the room for you and Finn to play the way you can here, right?” She softly spoke to her son.

Atlas pouted and Claire forced him a small smile, “Maybe some other time, yeah?”

“But I want to show him where we live.” Atlas murmured in a trembling voice, nearly on the verge of tears. Claire turned to him and kept her voice soft, “I know. But you know how mummy always says we won’t live there for too long? Because it’s so small and loud and dark?” She near whispered to Atlas, who nodded and sniffled once, “Well, maybe we should wait until we live somewhere nicer.”

“Are you poor?” Finn’s voice sounded curious and Claire’s eyes widened.

“Finn!” Harry scolded in shock, “You can’t ask people that!”

Finn looked completely horrified at the sudden volume his father used to talk to him. He stared at Harry with large, green eyes and even his lip was trembling, “B-But Atlas comes to school with dirty clothes.” He near whispered, sounding nervous. Claire’s stomach dropped and Finn sniffled again, “And we share my lunch because he’s still hungry after his.”

“Stop!” Harry snapped, his fist coming down on the table. Finn jumped up with a gasp in surprise and then burst into tears, scrambling from the table to run off. Claire held her breath as she stared at Harry, his fist clenched as he exhaled a sharp breath, “Shit.” He grumbled under his breath.

Claire swallowed and turned to Atlas, “Do you want to go check up on Finn, baby? Tell him his daddy’s not mad at him and neither am I? That we’re all okay?”

Atlas also seemed surprised with Harry’s outburst and timidly nodded before leaving the table to find Finn in the house. The moment he was out of sight, tears spilled from Claire’s eyes. She turned her head away from Harry, hiding it as she hastily wiped underneath her eyes. Her fingers trembled, repeating in her head what Finn had said.

That Atlas showed up with dirty clothes to school and not enough lunch, to the point he was still hungry and ate from the other kid’s lunchboxes.

“Claire.” Harry exhaled and she ignored him, her brain spinning. She was trying so hard. And all this time, she thought she had been doing good. That Atlas was at least happy even if they didn’t have all that much. But people talked, and soon enough the same thing would happen like it had done in his three previous schools. Word would get around, parents would tell their kids not to hang out with him and he’d be bullied.

Harry scooted his chair closer to hers, “Claire,” He repeated, “look at me.”

She pressed her lips together and flicked her eyes up. Harry noticed the wetness in her waterline, the red rimming around her lids. She was exhausted and sad, and it was written all over her face. He wasn’t sure what to do, so gently patted her knee, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” She shook her head, “it’s not his fault. I just – uh… I didn’t know.” She simply shrugged, staring down again, “We’re always in such a hurry in the mornings a-and I just grab whatever clothes of his I can find. And sometimes I don’t have time to do laundry in the weekends. And I swear, he fucking grows all the time, it’s like I have to buy new shirts every other week.” She tiredly scratched her forehead.

Harry listened to her soft rambling and Claire shook her head, “He’s never complained.” Her voice was a little raspy, “about being hungry, or not having enough food. He’s never mentioned it to me.”

“I’m sure Finn was exaggerating.” Harry murmured back, holding his hand on her knee now to give a gentle squeeze, “It maybe happened once. He’s an energized kid who eats a lot, I’ve noticed it here too. I’m sure that if he truly was hungry after lunch every single day, he would’ve told you. You guys are close, right?”

“Yeah.” Claire nodded, “He usually tells me everything.”

“See? I’m sure it’s not that bad. And so what he has a stain on his shirt? He’s a wild kid, always playing and running around… he’s bound to fuck up his clothes.”

Claire listened to him and really tried to hear him, but fresh tears welled in her eyes, “I’m really trying, Harry.” Her tone was shaky and he cooed, “I know. Fuck, I know. I can see it first-hand.”

“Shit.” Claire murmured as she buried her face in her hands and her shoulders trembled in quiet sobs. Harry squeezed her knee and then moved his hand up to her shoulder, “Hey, c’mere.” He urged her to stand up and Claire did so, letting herself be pulled into his chest for a hug. Her forehead was pressed to his clavicle as she sobbed into him, Harry’s arms rubbing up her back to comfort her and shush her softly.

“You’re doing incredible, Claire. And Atlas loves you so much.” He held her body to his, feeling as she weakly cried, both in exhaustion and in feeling powerless. It was a few minutes later that Harry swallowed, “And if you ever need help with money or anything…” He knew the moment he said it, that she’d refuse.

Claire sniffled and shook her head while being pressed to him, “We’ll be fine.”

“O-Or maybe your parents or something?”

“They cut me off. I haven’t been in contact with them since they knew I was pregnant.” Her voice was soft and Harry pressed his lips together, giving her another squeeze, “And doesn’t your ex need to pay? For Atlas?”

Claire sighed out into his neck, “You’d think so. The lawyers are working on it because he refuses to pay. But those things take so long, I’m not even hopeful anymore I’ll ever see a dime.”

It made Harry hate him even more. He had heard little bits about Evan, Atlas’ dad, from Finn. Not much, nothing detailed, just that Atlas didn’t see him that much and that he lived in the area. Any piece of information that Harry found out, made his blood boil. He couldn’t understand how he wouldn’t make an effort to hang out with Atlas, who was such a fun little boy to be around. Harry found there was nothing more satisfying than watching his son grow up and he couldn’t imagine missing it for the life of him.

“Well, you can always ask me. I won’t question it.” Harry concluded and Claire sniffled, “Thank you.”

They stood embraced for another good few minutes until Claire untangled herself, “I’m fine.” She took a breath, through most of her crying as she shot Harry an unconvincing smile, “I’ll be fine.”

“I know.” He nodded.

***

Message from: Claire

He’s wearing boat shoes. I don’t know what to do.

Harry chuckled at the screen of his phone as Finn had his head laying in his lap. Atlas was curled up in the couch too, eyes glued to the screen as they were having another Friday movie night. And Claire was out on a date.

It was nearing November now, and their little deal had been going on for a few months. Claire didn’t go out every weekend, but at least every other weekend. And Harry took Atlas here for the night to hang out with Finn so she could go on her date.

It was safe to say that it usually wasn’t that big of a success. Claire would text him underneath the table about all the horrible things they’d say or do and then come here to pick up Atlas. It resulted in at least an hour of gossiping and laughing before she eventually left and he’d watch her drive off in the darkness of the night.

Message to: Claire.

What colour are they?

His phone soon buzzed with a response.

Message from: Claire.

Who cares!! We’re in the city, not on a fucking boat!

Harry laughed again, shaking his head to himself as he stroked his fingers through Finn’s hair. He had a book next to him but found himself almost more interested in the movie playing. Tangled. It wasn’t half bad, to be honest.

Harry hardly noticed it as Atlas crawled closer to him until bumping his head into Harry’s bicep. He glanced to his side to see the blonde-haired little boy with half-tired eyes, cuddled into a blanket.

Harry hesitated for a moment before opening his arm and Atlas didn’t wait a second, simply nuzzled into Harry’s side with a content sigh. Harry’s heart felt full, with Atlas cuddled into him on one side and Finn resting on his lap. He gently stroked his fingers over Atlas’ head and the boy melted into him even more. There was trust here, after weeks and weeks of spending time together. Atlas was incredible, Harry had come to find out. He was clever and witty, making Finn laugh louder than Harry had ever heard.

Atlas was definitely more on the mischievous side where Finn was rather timid and quiet, but they compensated the other very well. And had grown to be very close friends.

Harry’s phone buzzed softly.

Message from: Claire.

Okay, I’m out of here. He just asked how much I make a month and if I can get him free burgers.

Harry snorted softly and typed back.

Message to: Claire.

Yeah, sounds like your cue to leave. You can catch the final bit of the movie if you’re lucky.

The movie progressed and before Harry truly and well realized it, the three of them were dozed off on the couch. Only when he heard the soft footsteps in the house – after he had showed Claire where he kept the spare key – did his eyes blink open.

Claire watched him with an amused smile, eyes darting over Atlas and Finn who were both asleep on parts of his body.

“This is cute.” She whispered. Harry yawned softly, “Sorry, fell asleep.”

“I can see that.” She sat down on the couch next to Atlas and stroked his back, “Baby?”

Atlas nuzzled further into Harry and Claire shook her head with a smile, “He’s taking the moment to his advantage.”

“He can’t cuddle you like that?”

“No,” Claire exhaled, “hurts my boobs.”

Harry chuckled, “Right. So I take it the date wasn’t a success?”

“A big fat no.” Claire sighed, “God, where am I supposed to meet a decent guy these days. I swear, every app I have downloaded has only lead me to horrible evenings like this. Maybe I should just stay single forever.”

“Yeah, come over to the dark side. It’s fun here.” Harry joked and Claire leaned back in the couch. She wore a sundress with sleeves tonight, pushing it a little in these rather cold temperatures. But Harry had yet to see her in pants whenever she went on a date, it was always a dress.

“So boat shoes…” Harry mused and Claire groaned, “I know.”

“Well, at least it wasn’t flip-flops. Like that guy you went out with a few weeks back.”

“Am I supposed to see the silver lining here?”

Harry smiled and it was quiet for a moment, “You want a drink? Or some food?”

Claire yawned, “No, thanks. I think we’re just going to go home.”

“Really?” His voice jumped a little, “I mean,” Harry shrugged while clearing his throat, “you could stay a bit. Or sleep in the guest room with Atlas. He’s asleep anyway.”

“Harry,” Claire laughed, “I know we’re friends but we’re a bit too old for sleepovers, no?”

Friends.

Well, that hurt.

Harry didn’t protest when Claire gently woke Atlas up, who immediately cuddled into her instead. She kissed his forehead, “Wanna go home?”

“Mhm.” He sleepily responded. Claire picked him up, wincing a bit at the ache in her back. Atlas weighed a bit too much to still be carried by her, but he was too sleepy. Harry gently nudged Finn off, who didn’t wake and rested on a pillow instead, before he let Claire and Atlas out.

“Bye.” He waved in a whisper and Claire waved back once she put Atlas in the passenger seat, “Bye!”

Harry groaned to himself once Claire was out of sight. Friends. Friends. God damn it. He knew it. He had let it go on for too long and now he was friendzoned. He was literally her mum-friend, the one she gossiped to about other guys. Holy fuck.

Harry ran his palms over his face and sighed out, picking up Finn from the couch to carry him to bed and then go to sleep himself.

With the colder temperatures approaching, the next few weeks consisted of thicker clothes and spending less time outside. It got a bit harder for Harry to entertain the boys as they couldn’t go in the pool or play outside too much. It was basically waiting for snow now.

December just rolled in and Harry was sitting in his car, waiting for Finn to be done with school and to take him home. He used to always wait outside his car but it was too cold now, so he waited inside. His eyes scanned the street in search of Claire’s old Toyota. They had seen each other on Friday after she came back from another date, dressed in heels, stockings and a skirt. It was a cute look on her, accentuating her figure.

She said it wasn’t horrible this time but there wasn’t really a connection there, so it would stick to the one date. Harry hummed at that, and he couldn’t really say he minded all that much. He found himself looking forward to her texts, or the moments she’d come home after another disappointment of a date, spilling to him. Even if he was in the friend zone, it still cheered him up to see her.

Dare he say, it was the highlight of his week right now.

So he scanned the streets, not seeing her car. Not when the bell rang and the children were let out. Harry exited his car, a wide grin on his face as Finn ran over to him excitedly.

“Hi, m’love.” Harry crouched down to take Finn into a hug, spotting a blonde head of hair in the corner of his eye. He patted Finn on the shoulder, “Do we need to take Atlas home today?”

Finn shook his head, “No, he said someone’s picking him up.”

Harry frowned slightly, scanning the line of parents until he spotted Atlas, walking over to a girl with black hair and a cigarette between her fingers. She hardly paid him attention and his head was a little low. Soon enough, they made way to the bus station and disappeared from sight.

Harry refrained from texting Claire that night. It could be crossing a line, asking if she was okay. They had never really done that before and usually texted in a very casual way or to discuss picking up Atlas.

He didn’t see her the remainder of the week and it was nearing Christmas break now. Although Harry vowed to never pull his kid into this, he couldn’t help himself but question Finn on Friday.

“So… Are you sad that Atlas hasn’t been here all week?” He asked as they were having dinner, just the two of them.

Finn shrugged. He wasn’t a kid to speak out of line, which is why the poor-comment he made about Claire shocked Harry so much. He had raised Finn to be very polite and respectful. He had taught him that whenever a friend told him a secret, he were to keep it to build an keep the trust. It’s why he felt like guilty now, prying.

“He said it’s busy at home.” Finn answered and Harry flicked his eyes to him, “Busy?”

“Mhm.” Finn nodded, “With his mummy. He says she’s not feeling too well so he stays with her.”

Harry slowly nodded, “That’s nice of him.”

“It is.” Finn agreed.

Silence fell over the dinner table and Harry cringed at himself, unable to let the topic go, “Did Finn mention why Claire’s feeling a little poorly?”

Finn softly shrugged as he poked his food, “He says her face hurts.”

Harry near dropped his fork, stomach twisting in discomfort as he heard the words coming from Finn’s mouth. He softly cleared his throat, “Her face hurts?”

Finn was more interested in his food, simply nodding as he continued eating and Harry finally dropped it. He had a pretty clear idea as to why Claire’s face would hurt. He tightly gripped his fork, staring at his phone on the table in contemplation whether or not to text her. If it was crossing a line.

They had known each other for months now but never really dipped into that part of their friendship – as Claire would call it. Their talks were mostly playful or consisting of their children. They didn’t actually know much about one another on a personal level, they never had conversations like that and Harry wasn’t sure if this was pushing it or not.

So he left it at that. And a few days later, she reached out to him. Claire texted him, saying a guy asked her out on a date on Friday, asking him if it was okay if Atlas stayed the evening and if Harry had the time.

He responded faster than ever, immediately agreeing. Even though the idea that she was going on a date gnawed at him and he was searching high and low for the courage to ask her out himself – it still made his chest flutter that he was going to see her and talk to her.

The gnawing feel overpowered though, especially when he opened his door and she was there in a silk mini dress with tights and a dark purple loose cardigan over her shoulders to keep her warm. The cold was biting and even to drop Atlas off, Harry shortly invited her in.

Only when she was in the lights of the kitchen, could he take a decent look at her.

“Holy shit, what the hell happened to your face?” Was the first thing flying out of his mouth. Luckily for Harry, both Finn and Atlas were out of earshot. Claire exhaled and tilted her head to the side, “Is it really that obvious? I thought I covered it.”

She looked at him with big, round eyes. Her blonde hair was in soft waves laying over her back and all he could really see was the bruise on her cheekbone. He could tell it had faded and had gone towards a muted purple colour with hints of green. He could also see the layer of make-up she had put on over that.

“It’s… I mean, I can tell, yeah. It looks like a shadow.” He explained. Claire sighed, “Great. That guy’s gonna think I’m some crazy woman.”

“What happened?” Harry asked again. Claire took a moment and forced him a smile as she tried to busy herself with the strap of her bag, “Just me being clumsy.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, “I don’t believe that for a second. Why did you have Belle pick up Atlas every single day this week?”

“Because I was working and couldn’t do it.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged, “So? You could’ve asked me. Been doing it for the past few months with pleasure, so why relay on Belle again?”

“She asked, said she could use the money.” Claire shrugged and Harry huffed, “That doesn’t sound like you. Seems unlikely.”

“Yeah, I’m just that much of a bitch, aren’t I?” She responded bitterly, shaking her head to herself, “I don’t know what the big deal is. You got a week free of me and Atlas.”

“Didn’t ask for a week free of either you or Atlas. Neither did Finn.” It sounded like a dig, and Claire flicked her eyes up in shock of his words. They sounded venomous and angry, as if Finn had been unhappy this week without Atlas here in the evenings, and it was Claire’s fault. Harry continued, “Besides, I think the real reason wasn’t you being a nice person to Belle. I think the real reason was that you didn’t want me or Finn to see you with your face beaten up, which is why you hid all week.”

His voice softened and Claire’s stare hardened too. She inhaled a shaky breath, trying to recompose herself even if her heart was hammering violently and she could feel the lump in her throat.

“I’m going to give you a piece of advice, Harry.” She murmured, “If a person shows up with bruises and you have a feeling they’re not telling you the truth, there’s a reason for that. Don’t fucking pry it out of me like that, and why on earth do you even think you have the right or the audacity to do so? I don’t owe you any sort of explanation.”

He opened his mouth but she cut him off, “No, I don’t want to fucking hear it. You don’t get a free pass into my personal life just because my son likes you and we’re acquainted.”

It had gone from friends to acquaintances now. Harry felt the jab to his chest, knowing he had fucked up tremendously. Claire was breathing heavily as she sniffled once, “Now, I’m going to go on a date and attempt to enjoy it. I’ll see you later.” She strode past him and didn’t wait for Harry to let her out. The door slammed harshly until the pictures of Astrid and Finn on the walls rattled and Harry was left in silence.

He sat brooding that night. Checking his phone constantly for updates. Claire’s dates had never been this quiet. Usually she at least texted him when she arrived to let him know what the guy was wearing. There’d be texts throughout if her date said something disgusting or stupid, and at the end of the night to update him on if they had split the check or not.

It had been hours and there hadn’t been anything. With each buzz, he hastily grabbed his phone only to find it was either his mum or some notification of an e-mail he didn’t care for. His leg bobbed impatiently as he sat through another movie night with Finn and Atlas. And there was nothing that could take his mind off of things.

So when he had put the boys to bed and sat down on the couch again to check his phone, it was still empty. He drew up a message to send her but deleted it again, realizing his apologies would never come across through text while she was out with another man. He had to tell her in person, so he forced himself to stay awake.

Claire never came.

She never texted him, she simply never showed up. Harry stayed up for a few hours until midnight passed and then one in the morning, and then two in the morning. His lids felt droopy before he dragged himself to bed with the harsh realization that Claire was spending the night with her date.

He knew. She’d never go home to sleep by herself and leave Atlas here. She always picked him up. The only reason she wouldn’t pick him up, is if she was sleeping with him at his house or in a hotel room.

She was getting fucked, having sex, and Harry knew it.

The dates in the past hadn’t bothered him that much because they always ended up being assholes or losers and Claire was never truly interested in any of them. She never minded that there wasn’t a second date and simply kept swiping on Tinder until finding someone else.

In all the months they had been doing this, she had never spent the night with someone. It made Harry’s chest sink so deep that it hurt. It physically hurt, knowing she was with someone else. Who got to kiss her, touch her, smell her and taste her. Hear her, feel her, be inside of her.

His fists balled as he suddenly couldn’t catch sleep after that realization. He was so fucking jealous.

Harry hardly slept, but when his phone buzzed at around eight in the morning, he was wide awake.

Message from: Claire.

I’ll be there in like ten minutes.

He jolted up in bed and hastily went into the bathroom to freshen up and brush his teeth. Both boys were still asleep but Harry didn’t know for how long. He rushed down the stairs to be there for when she arrived, and like clockwork he heard gentle taps against the door.

He saw her and it only confirmed his suspicions. Her face was free of make-up and her hair was in a bun, but she was wearing the same clothes as the night before. The bruise was more prominent now with the absence of make-up, but what he could see was a fresh bruise. In the form of a lovebite at the base of her neck. It wasn’t that deep or dark, but he noticed straightaway.

Harry cleared his throat, “Hi.”

“Hey.” Claire mumbled, “Is Atlas up yet?”

“He’s not. D’you want to come in? I’ll make some coffee.”

Claire hesitated and eventually followed him inside of the familiar house. She sat down on the barstool she had been sitting in that first time she spent the day here and Harry had his back to her, working his coffee machine.

He swallowed through the lump in his throat, “So I take it you had a good date?”

“You could say that.” Claire breathed. Harry pressed his lips together, keeping his back to her. Claire cleared her throat, “We’re actually going out again next week.”

He turned around in lightning speed, “What?”

Claire blinked, “We’re going out again next week.” She repeated in a soft voice. Harry felt his fingers tightly gripping the countertop, “Like… like a second date?”

“Mhm.”

His knees weakened and he felt the stinging behind his lids, quickly turning around again to face the coffee machine, “That’s great.”

“It is.” Claire agreed, “He’s nice.”

They fell into silence and Harry poured her a cup of coffee as Claire drew a breath, “I can ask Belle, you know? To watch him. Next week.”

Harry immediately shook his head, “No way. Besides, it’s Christmas break. I’m sure Belle will want to do something else than babysit. And I don’t mind. We’re going to set up the tree, I’m sure Atlas will like that.”

“He will.” Claire nodded, “He’s been wanting a tree for a long time. We don’t have room in the apartment.”

Harry flicked his eyes to her, “Right.”

She forced him a smile and they fell into silence again. Harry realized he had never heard silence quite this fucking loud.

***

The week moved agonizingly slow. Claire showed up at school again, her bruise now faded. She picked up Atlas and shot a brief smile to Harry and Finn before spending the evening with her little man.

They cuddled and played board games, even some video games. It was always a task to entertain Atlas during school breaks. Claire couldn’t stay away from work so she usually organized camps for him or he spent a little more time with his father.

Not this time. Claire refused. She didn’t mind finding sitters and paying for them as long as Atlas didn’t spend any more time with Evan than absolutely necessary.

The had realized, after last weekend. After Atlas witnessed the abuse Evan put her through, that she would do everything in her power to keep him away. She wanted to give Evan a chance to be a father to Atlas, but he let him down over and over again. And mostly, Claire didn’t want Atlas to look up to Evan. And inherit some of his less nice qualities, like hitting women.

She couldn’t even imagine – and the thought made her sick – that Atlas would grow up to be like his father. It had resulted in more calls with her lawyer because she was getting slightly desperate for the money Evan owed her.

What had been taking her mind off things, was the prospect of her second date with Alexander. He had been an absolute sweetheart during their first date, so much so that Claire had felt butterflies. She opened up about Atlas and life as a single mum, and he was one of the first who didn’t laugh at her when she said she worked at Burger King. He noticed the bruise but didn’t ask her about it, besides wondering if she was in any pain.

She was, after a moment, from smiling so wide. So he gently kissed her at the end of the night and things got heated. Claire didn’t hesitate when he asked her to come to his apartment and they had spent a night between the sheets. Alexander had some stuff to learn, but Claire could be patient and guide him so he could learn how to satisfy her. She had searched high and low for an orgasm all night while giving him two, but it still didn’t mean it wasn’t fun.

Harry’s eyes had felt heavy on her when she went to drop Atlas off. Claire knew she looked good. She wore black again, a form-fitting dress to show off her curves with high heels to elevate her. She wore a bit of make-up but nothing too crazy and her hair was pinned back with a little butterfly clip.

His eyes had dragged up and down her form, boosting Claire’s confidence tremendously. She could see the heaviness in his eyes as they made a bit of polite small talk. She knew he was sorry about the way he spoke to her the week prior and she knew he didn’t like the fact she was going on a second date with Alexander.

She saw it in his stance, in his eyes. Jealousy. It was fine, Claire felt. Her and Harry did spent a lot of time together and even she’d feel a slight jab to her chest if he’d suddenly announce he was dating someone. In some stupid, crazy way it almost felt like they both had a claim on one another. But neither said anything and Claire wasn’t patient. Maybe she was taunting him, and part of her was. The dates in the past few months had all been disappointing and she expected the date with Alexander to be the same.

But he pleasantly surprised her and Claire had fun and felt seen. After the way Harry had spoken to her, it’s what she needed. And she couldn’t sit and wait around for him to figure out his feelings. She was moving on.

Moving on wasn’t easy though when your date doesn’t show up.

Claire looked like an idiot, sitting alone at the table in the restaurant. She checked her watch again, noticing Alexander was forty minutes late. She had double-checked their reservation to make sure she got the time and date right. She had texted him, called him, without answer. Her texts didn’t even go through, making her think he had her blocked.

She sipped slowly on her red wine until she had been there an hour, and she decided enough was enough. It was nine in the evening when she asked for the check to pay for her wine. The waiter shot her a sympathetic look that Claire brushed off, and she exited the restaurant.

Driving back to Harry’s house, she hadn’t notified him. She had only dropped Atlas off about an hour and a half ago and she suspected the three of them to just be sitting on the couch, watching a movie.

Claire shivered in the evening air as the had rang the door, hearing the familiar footsteps of Harry rushing over to the door before opening up with a frown. It softened at the sight of her. He hadn’t expected Claire here, an hour after she had left. The exciting glint she had in her eyes when leaving, was replaced by something he couldn’t really place.

“What happened?” He asked and Claire shrugged, fighting the embarrassed flush in her cheeks, “He stood me up.” She mumbled under her breath, “Can you grab Atlas? I really want to go home.”

“He stood you up?” Harry frowned, “What the fuck?”

Claire rolled her eyes, “Harry, it’s nothing. I’d just like to leave.”

“We’re in the middle of Monopoly.” He exhaled, “Look, just come in for a bit, you must be freezing.”

Claire hesitated. All she really wanted to do was go home with Atlas and cry in her shower before cuddling him to sleep. Harry opened the door wider, ushering her in, “Come on.”

And so she did. Her feet carried her into the house, met with the familiar warmth that Harry’s house exuded.

“Mummy!” Atlas sounded exited at the sight of his mother, jumping out of his chair to hug her. Claire smiled and kissed his forehead, “Hi, bub. ‘M back soon, aren’t I?”

Atlas giggled and jumped around, clearly very pleased with Claire joining the Monopoly-party.

“D’you want some tea? Or wine?” Harry offered.

“Wine.” Claire breathed immediately and Harry nodded, taking two glasses and filling them with some red wine as Finn and Atlas filled Claire in on how the game was going so far. She didn’t seem too in it with her head but nodded either way, quickly catching up on Harry’s strategy on losing on purpose to let either of the other boys win.

Claire followed along, playing without thinking and losing on purpose. Her wine was finished by the time Finn was crowned as the Monopoly-king.

As Finn and Atlas quickly settled down in front of the television, Claire and Harry were left to clear out the board game from the dinner table they had played at. Claire had put her hair up again with one of Harry’s pencils as they both tucked Monopoly back into the box.

“Some more wine?” Harry suggested. Claire exhaled and shook her head, “No, thanks, I still have to drive.”

“You’re not going home, are you?” Harry frowned, leaning against one of the chairs, “Claire, just stay here. You can sleep in the bed with Atlas. Or there’s even another guest room if you want.”

And Claire was too tired to argue. She timidly gave in and lifted her glass, “Well in that case… refill please.”

About an hour later, they had tucked their boys into bed. It was past their bedtime already but Harry and Claire agreed to cut them so slack since it was winter break and they didn’t have school for a few weeks.

“Do you want a shower? Or just some clothes of mine?”

“Just some clothes, please.” Claire responded, “’M a little cold.”

And so Harry gave her sweats, a shirt, a jumper and a pair of socks she could fit her feet in about three times. It looked a little ridiculous, but Harry had hearts in his eyes when she joined him on the sectional couch. She looked cuddly and soft, and her eyes were a little heavy from being tired and sad.

“Are you tired or do you want to watch a movie or something?” Harry asked as he popped his feet up on the coffee table. Claire was on the other side of the couch with a blanket around her, “Your couch is so comfortable, I’m probably going to fall asleep here.” She contently sighed, “Don’t even need a bed.”

Harry chuckled as he watched her nuzzle into the pillow. With her feet stretched his way, he gently tapped her shin, “How come you’re so tired?”

“’S just been a long week.” She sighed, “Arranging things with my boss for the winter break, so I can hire sitters throughout the day but can stay with Atlas at night.” She explained, “Don’t want him to spend his break with his father.”

Harry took a sip of his wine and softly exhaled, “Can I ask why not?”

Claire flicked her eyes up, appreciating the way Harry was more careful in asking her this time instead of how he approached the subject last time. She swallowed, “Well, he’s abusive.” She softly spoke, avoiding his eyes, “I don’t want Atlas around someone like him.”

“Would he hurt Atlas?” Harry frowned and Claire shrugged, “I don’t think so. But then again, I also didn’t think he’d ever hurt me.”

“He hit you, didn’t he? Two weeks ago?” Harry softly asked and Claire let out a breath, “Mhm.”

“Shit, Claire…” He cursed, shaking his head, “I’m so sorry.”

“’S not your fault.”

“No, I’m sorry for prying. I-I had a hunch and I should’ve just left it at that, it wasn’t fair of me.” Harry apologized, staring at his fingers before he lifted his head and turned to face her. Claire had a sad look on her face, “Just another thing added to the plate this week. His lawyer is literally such a dick. I just… I want this all to be over. To cut ties, to never have to see him again. But I also want Atlas to know his father.” She shrugged, “It’s hard.”

“I can imagine.” Harry sympathized, stroking his fingers over her covered shin. He licked his lip before continuing, “Were you two together for a long time?”

Claire sat up and hugged her legs to her body, her chin on her knee, “Few years. I made some wrong friends in school and went through a phase. I used drugs sometimes, I drank a lot, I partied, dropped out of school… I met Evan during that time and was already on thin ice with my parents. I sort of moved in with him in this little studio. He was – uh… a dealer. And he used a lot. Sort of pulled me into that.” She softly explained.

Claire closed her eyes for a moment, “I even used when pregnant. I didn’t know I was pregnant for the longest time and just kept drinking and doing drugs, I-I had no idea.” She murmured and Harry’s heart cracked, watching her as she blinked away some tears, “It’s literally a miracle that Atlas was born and that he was completely fine.”

It was silent for a bit as Claire relived some memories in her brain. Harry turned to face her more, scooting a little closer on the couch, “Was he happy that you were pregnant?”

“Ecstatic, actually.” Claire mumbled, “He was so happy. Of course, he was high most of the time. When sober, he hardly acknowledged me. He was… very difficult to read. When he was high, he was super happy or the complete opposite. When he was sober, he barely showed any emotion at all.”

Claire took a breath, “The moment my parents knew I was pregnant, they cut me off completely. I haven’t been in contact with them ever since. So I moved in with Evan permanently. Neither of us had a job and he got money from dealing, but it was a dangerous life. He got threatened a lot and was always stressed, he worked that out on me. He hit me, always when he was high. I forgave him, I had nowhere to go.” She shrugged, shaking her head to herself, “It was difficult for a few years. When Atlas was around two, I finally got away. I’ve been on my own ever since.”

The television was softly playing in the background but neither Harry or Claire paid it any attention. She lifted her head to send him a weak smile, “I’m happy now. Atlas is amazing and I love him so much. It’s just… hard sometimes. I don’t want to have to deal with him anymore, it just brings back so many memories and he keeps thinking he’s got some claim over me.” She nibbled her lip, “Atlas goes to his place sometimes on a Saturday. Like… once a month or something. He never stays the night. Two weeks ago he went there and obviously shared stuff about his life. About Finn, about… you.”

“Shit.” Harry murmured and Claire hummed, “Yeah. Evan lost it. I went to pick up Atlas again and he freaked out, said I was… well, every name in the book, really. Doesn’t usually bother me, but Atlas was around a-and I fought back, told him to stop. He just – well, yeah.” She pointed to the faded bruise on her face and sniffed once, “And that’s that.”

“Atlas saw?” Harry whispered and Claire nodded, “Yep.”

“Holy fuck… that guy is insane.” He scooted a little closer again, “Claire, you need like a restraining order. And you need full custody.”

“I’m trying.” She sighed, “I swear, these things take so long. I’ve been trying for months now, years maybe. It’s really not easy.”

Harry exhaled, “No, I know. I know.”

“Do you…” Claire asked warily, “do you have full custody?”

“Mhm.” Harry shortly nodded, “Astrid voluntarily wrote away her rights. She wanted nothing to do with Finn or me, so it was an easy arrangement. It’s more difficult when both parties fight the other.”

Claire frowned, “She… She chose to not be a part of Finn’s life?”

He shortly cleared his throat, “Yeah. Astrid… she’s a complex person, Claire. ‘M not even really sure how to explain it.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want.” She softly spoke and Harry shook his head, “I think we’re sharing traumas here and it’s only fair if I share mine.” He tried to make it sound like a joke, but there was heaviness in the air. Harry licked his lip, “We met when we were young and got married. Always wanted a family. It didn’t work for some time until Astrid got pregnant with Finn. From the moment she was pregnant I just… saw her change. It’s like she felt suffocated all of a sudden and only then realized how much her life was going to change as a mum. She did all these things, took all these trips spontaneously, like she was scared to be an adult all of a sudden. I sort of let her do her thing, figuring it was just what she needed at that point.”

Claire listened as Harry continued, “When he was born, it got even worse. It was like she resented him. We talked to therapists who brought up the whole postpartum depression thing, but Astrid said it was more than that. She didn’t want anything to do with Finn and actually tried to be as far away from him. Her motherly instincts never kicked in. She took off with her friends, took trips, partied and whatnot, always leaving me here with him. It was like she regressed back to her life in her early twenties. We hardly saw one another, she missed a lot of his first few years. She just didn’t want him. And then one day she just announced that she was leaving. Moving to some island to start over, signing away her rights and… she was gone. We got divorced easily and I’ve been a single parent ever since.”

“Wow.” Claire breathed, “That’s… so crazy. When was the last time you saw her?”

Harry scratched above his brow, “Probably… four years ago? I have no idea where she is right now, or what she’s doing. She’s completely messed it up for me, I don’t want anything to do with her ever again.” He sounded bitter and Claire shortly nodded, “Understandable.”

“It’s just like a sense of responsibility. I don’t know…” Harry mumbled, “We actively tried to have a baby, it’s not like it was a surprise.”

They fell into a silence until Harry exhaled and held up his glass, “Cheers to our exes.”

“Cheers.” Claire chuckled before shaking her head, “How sad are we.”

Harry took a sip, “We’re not sad.” He argued with a soft smile and Claire puffed out a breath, “I am. Can’t believe I got stood up. That was super embarrassing.”

“It’s honestly insane. He’s a fucking asshole.”

Claire pressed her lips together, “I mean, if he just wanted sex, he could’ve said so. I’m not stupid, like I get it. Just fucking tell me the truth and don’t string me along.”

Harry shot her a sly smile, “At least you got an orgasm out of it.”

“He did.” Claire corrected him in a shrug, her voice nothing but a gentle mumble. Harry looked at Claire over the rim of his glass, “Hm?” He wasn’t sure if he had heard her correctly.

She nibbled her lip, avoiding his eyes as she let out a soft breath, “Well – he did. I didn’t – uh… he didn’t get me off.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Harry sounded in complete disbelief before throwing his head back with a laugh.

Claire blushed red in embarrassment and rolled her eyes, “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not!” Harry laughed, shaking his head, “Holy shit, I can’t believe this guy?! He didn’t even get you off and then has the nerve to ghost you?!”

She took another sip, “Well, yeah.”

“He’s literally such a dick, what the hell…” Harry mumbled, “So was he just like… bad or anything?”

Claire’s red cheeks didn’t disappear as Harry continued the subject and she let out a shuddery breath, “I mean, not really. Although actually, yes. He tried, I think.” The more Claire thought about it, the more she hesitated. Sighing out, she forced Harry a small smile, “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does, though. Who the fuck does he think he is.”

Harry’s anger was sort of infectious and she felt the fire in her chest, “You know what? Yes. You’re right. It does matter. Because I pulled out all my tricks, you know? Even gave him head! He came twice!” She rambled and Harry’s eyes widened. Claire let out a sigh, “I just want – you know?” She used hand gestures now and Harry watched intently, “What?” He asked in confusion.

Claire put her glass of wine down on the coffee table with a slight slam, “I just want a fucking guy to just… grab me! Like – “ She pressed her lips together, “just someone to throw me around, have his fucking way with me, shut me up. Make it rough, you know?”

It was Harry’s turn to get red cheeks as he listened to Claire explaining her sexual desires. She seemed lost in her head, sighing again with tense shoulders, “And just claim me?! I don’t know, just like fucking take me and kiss me a-“

Claire couldn’t finish her sentence before feeling Harry’s lips on hers. He had lunged forward at her, near knocking her backwards as his mouth was on hers. Claire yelped in surprise at the short kiss. Harry was panting as he pulled back, only an inch or two. His wine-stained lips brushed hers.

“W-What are you doing?” Claire murmured.

“God, just shut up.” Harry groaned, watching Claire’s wide eyes as he grabbed her waist and yanked her body on top of his. Claire near flew through the air, gasping in surprise as she found herself perched up on Harry’s lap with her thighs on each side of his. Her chest heaved in shallow breaths, hands bracing herself on his shoulders as she stared down at him.

His eyes were dark and deep, lust dripping from him as he sinfully slipped his hands up her covered thighs. They stared at each other for just a moment before Harry grabbed the back of her head to pull her down and reconnect their lips.

A moan from Claire got muffled against his lips. Her fingers dug into his shoulders before moving into his hair, cupping his jaw and sliding into his neck. She touched wherever she could reach, feeling his strong arms wrapped around her form to keep her tightly pressed into his chest. A tug on her hips made her scoot up on his lip, her mouth parting at the bulge in his sweatpants.

“Fuck.” Claire moaned, pushing her tongue into Harry’s mouth. Claire reciprocating was something Harry could’ve only dreamed of. Everything she had been describing was exactly what he had been wanting to do for weeks now, but felt too unsure to do so. He didn’t want to scare her off, yet now he felt fucking unhinged.

The moment his fingers tugged at the jumper covering Claire’s body, she caught on. Her blonde hair flew around as they broke apart and she tugged it off, leaving her in one of his shirts.

“Fucking finally.” Claire moaned as Harry pulled her hips down on his and her head rolled back on her shoulders, “Please – oh god…” She was bucking back into him, hips sensually rocking in wave-like motions to stimulate him. Harry felt the heat radiating from her core, his head dropping back on the couch, “Jesus.” He hissed in bliss.

He lifted his head again, brushing his lips over her pulse-point, “Should we go to the bedroom?”

“Uh-huh.” Claire panted, “Please, I need you.”

A surge of confidence shot through Harry, “Yeah?”

Claire wrapped her fingers in his hair, “Yes.” She whispered, “So bad.”

Harry’s lips nipped on her neck, “Do you need me or do you just need to get fucked?”

“You.” Claire spoke without missing a beat, “Been wanting this for so long.”

Harry pulled back with surprise written all over his face, “What? Really?”

“Yes.” She chuckled. Harry frowned, “Why didn’t you say anything? I-I’ve liked you for months.”

“I know.”

His cheeks turned pink again and Claire smiled in amusement, brushing her thumb over his bottom lip. Harry swallowed thickly, “Y-You know? And you never said or did anything? Kept going on dates with other guys?”

“Well, I could’ve been wrong.” Claire shrugged, “Didn’t want to make a fool of myself and ruin our arrangement or ruin anything for Atlas.”

Harry was about to say something but Claire beat him to it, biting her lip and brushing her hair over her shoulder. Harry’s eyes dropped to the faded lovebite on her neck and his throat tightened as Claire batted her lashes, “Besides, it was funny to see you a little jealous.”

“Played me, hm?” Harry growled, tangling a hand in her hair and Claire gasped at the tight hold he had on her scalp, pulling her to the side a little as his mouth latched onto the still existing hickey. Claire’s eyes rolled back, her hips bucking on their own accord as he deepened the bruise, claiming her. She was ruining her underwear, a sob stuck in her throat from how desperate she was and how badly she needed him.

“Still funny?” Harry licked over the fresh bruise, throbbing and angry purple to disturb Claire’s skin. His fingers dug into her hip, “Answer me.”

“F-Fuck, no.” Claire panted, “God, Harry, please.”

He pulled her hips again, dragging her up his growing cock as he exhaled a shaky sigh. Claire blinked her eyes open, somehow sensing his hesitance, “Are you okay?” She questioned softly, cupping his cheeks. Her nose bumped his and Harry puckered his lips for her to give him a gentle kiss.

“Yeah.” He rasped, “I might – uh… be a little rusty. ‘S been a while.”

Claire nodded, “Okay.”

Harry chewed the inside of his cheek, “No, it’s like been… years.” He mumbled the last part, too embarrassed to actually say out loud. Claire froze on top of him, staring at his eyes which refused to look back at her, “Wait, are you serious? You haven’t had sex in years?”

“Yep.” He exhaled, “It’s, uh… well, I’ve been with women after Astrid, just not many. Had a few one night stands and it just… well, didn’t really do it for me. And I just stopped then, focussing completely on raising Finn and then it didn’t happen anymore.”

Claire was quiet for a moment, taking in the information before she nodded, “Okay, that makes sense. But you… masturbate?”

“Mhm.”

“And… do you want this?” She checked. Harry huffed out a chuckle, “Fuck, yes. Wanted this for weeks.”

“Weeks?”

He flicked his eyes up, “Months, actually.”

Claire kissed him, “Take me to bed, Harry.”

He didn’t hesitate, grabbing Claire underneath her thighs to pick her up. She was astounded at his strength. She had seen Harry shirtless by the pool and had seen him in shirts all the time with exposed arms. She had never witnessed him working out or anything, but he was strong enough to not blink while carrying her up the stairs.

“We’re gonna have to be quiet.” He murmured into her neck, “Don’t want to wake our boys.”

“Definitely not.” Claire agreed.

Harry’s foot kicked open the door of his bedroom, “What I meant is you’re going to have to be quiet.” He quipped with a sly smirk as he dropped Claire on the mattress. She watched him, standing at the foot of the bed to rip off his shirt and leave him topless. Claire’s thigh quivered at the sight of his muscular body and the many tattoos. His abs flexed as he moved and she was mesmerized.

Harry felt another boost of confidence at the hungry look in Claire’s eyes. She laid on her beck and he took her ankle, sliding off the huge sock he had given her before moving over to the other foot, “How do you want it?”

Claire wanted to moan. She tipped her head back with closed eyes, biting her lip, “Hard.” She whimpered, “Deep.”

Harry chuckled, “A little greedy, hm?”

After taking off her socks, he tugged at the leg holes of her sweatpants. Due to the size of the clothes, they easily slipped off of Claire’s hips and thighs, easy for Harry to take off. Every inch of her legs became visible to him, as did the red thong she was wearing. His mouth watered, chucking the sweatpants over his shoulders before climbing on top of her.

Claire parted her legs immediately, arms reaching out to pull him into her. She hungrily kissed him, tangling a hand back in his hair as her legs curled around his thighs to keep him close, close enough to feel him between her thighs. With the disappearance of her sweatpants, she felt him much more clear, rubbing against her pussy.

Harry was hard as a rock, so turned on by her and this moment and the way he had imagined this. He had never been the most spontaneous person – something Astrid loved to complain about – so it took him a lot of courage to just grab Claire and hope for the best. He didn’t want to scare her off or cross any boundaries, and somehow they didn’t really know each other on a level that he knew if this was all okay or not.

But the way she whimpered in his mouth and desperately pulled at him, was enough proof that she needed him badly. And according to her, it was him she needed. No one else.

Claire got impatient, reaching for his hand to bring it between them. She left it at that, handing the reigns over to Harry. His cheeks turned slightly pink and with their lips still brushing together in kisses, Harry nervously skimmed his fingers over the hem of Claire’s panties.

She shuddered, holding her breath, “God – Harry, get on with it.” She pleaded. His eyes closed with a guttural moan, slipping his fingers inside her underwear to stroke between her folds with the rough pads of them. Claire immediately squeaked and jumped in sensitivity of the touch and Harry latched his lips onto her neck again to silence himself.

His fingers moved up and down to feel her, underwear tenting around his hand as he felt her so wet and warm for him, it could make him cry. Slick, dripping pussy as Claire opened her legs wider to allow him more room. It spread her for him, letting his fingers graze over every ridge and bump she had until he settled the pads of his fingers on her clit.

She gasped desperately, her legs so tense and her entire body so worked up. She wasn’t sure if she was hurting him with the firm grip on his hair, but she needed something to ground herself. Arching her back up, she whined, “F-Fuck me. Please.”

Harry groaned again, a sound that went straight between Claire’s legs as he kept touching her clit. He rubbed circles to arouse her more, to get her all wet and open. Harry knew he was rather well-endowed and even though Claire had sex on a much more regular basis than him, it would be presumptuous to assume the guy who couldn’t get her off last week was anywhere near his size.

“Need to get you ready.” Harry mumbled into her neck, lifting his head and finding the strength to look in her eyes. It hit him like a sledgehammer, the look she sent him. Horny, desperate, near crying for him. Her eyes glazed over, her lips in an inviting, swollen pout and her cheeks flushed.

“I am.” Claire breathed out, “So ready. P-Please.”

Harry bit his lip, “’M not teasing you here, Claire. You’ll thank me for it.” At that, he grabbed one of her hands to guide it to his crotch, inviting her to touch him. Claire did so without hesitation, panting out as she fought with the elastic band of his boxers before finally getting her hand in. She paused immediately, eyes flicking up and widening dramatically, “Wow.”

“Yeah.” Harry smirked arrogantly, “Still think you’re ready?”

Her hand felt small around the girth of his erection, stroking curiously from thick base to swollen tip. If there was anything Harry knew, it was that he was fucking ready for her.

Claire let out a shuddery exhale as her head thudded back into the mattress, “Yes, please – I can’t wait. I need you.” She panted, restlessly writhing on the mattress, “I need you inside of me, I need it to hurt. I can take it.”

“Holy shit.” Harry cursed, bucking his hips into her hand. He stared at her, losing his sense of hesitation as he licked his lip, “You have to tell me if I need to stop, okay?”

“Uh-huh. Promise.”

“Good girl.” He whispered, removing his hand from in between her legs. He quickly brought the tips of his fingers to his mouth to get them clean, his tongue swirling around casually before leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to her lips. Claire was fucking dumbfounded.

Harry jumped off the bed, rummaging one of his drawers as she pushed herself up on her elbows, “Are you going to tie me up?” She sounded almost hopeful and Harry chuckled, shaking his head, “No, I like having your hands in my hair. ‘M looking for a condom.”

“Right.” Claire took it upon herself to slip out of the shirt she was wearing and then remove her underwear to leave her completely naked. She laid on Harry’s dark blue sheets, staring up at the beamed ceiling of his house as Harry grumbled under his breath, closing the drawer to open another, “Found it!” He cheered.

He turned around in triumph but his smile quickly dropped as he laid eyes on a naked Claire. His throat ran dry, seeing the length of her torso, the dips of her ribs and her chest. Full, firm tits and hardened nipples sitting up and waiting to be taken into his mouth. The stretchmarks on her thighs, the lines of her underwear denting her skin and some faded tan lines gracing her.

“So fucking beautiful.” Harry sighed, slowly walking over to her. The pace had slowed a little bit and was less frantic now as he stood at the edge of the bed, letting his eyes drag over her. Where Claire assumed she’d feel shy, she actually felt confident. Harry’s eyes studied her and he looked mesmerized. He wasn’t judging any part of her, he just wanted to see her.

Harry exhaled shakily and shook his head to himself, “Should’ve done this way sooner.”

“I would’ve let you.” Claire teased. Harry smirked slightly as he took it upon himself to open up the square foil of the condom. He dropped his boxers, Claire’s eyes widening and her mouth watering at the sight of his hard cock bobbing up and standing up tall.

“Oh my god.” She whimpered when he shortly stroked himself before fiddling with the condom. “Wait!” Claire squeaked. Harry paused and his brows raised, “What is it?”

Claire swallowed, her eyes glued to his erection, “I want to suck you off.”

“Fuck, no.” Harry breathed, shaking his head sternly as he rolled the condom down his shaft, “If you take me in your mouth, I’m gonna cum immediately.”

Claire wanted to protest but Harry was already hovering over her, knees kicking her legs apart to allow him room. Goosebumps rose over her body at his closeness, his nose continuously brushing into hers as he had one hand around his base to guide towards her.

“Still okay?” He whispered and Claire let out a soft moan, “Yes, yes.”

“Still think your little pussy can take me?”

Her eyes shot open as a tingle of arousal ran down her spine. She bucked up while biting down her lip, somehow not expecting Harry to say anything like that. Claire fought for air, “Yes.” She rasped again, “Please.”

The second she felt Harry’s blunt tip against her opening, Claire focussed on relaxing. She attempted to spread her legs wider for him, focussing on not tensing up any of her muscles as he held the eye contact. Both their mouths opened in a breathless whine as he pushed in. He felt her walls rippling around him, fighting the intrusion for a moment. Hesitation flashed over Claire’s face for a brief second until she breathed through it, her eyes rolling back as her head lolled to the side from the stretch.

“Fuck, you’re so wet and tight.” Harry lowly commented, taking his sweet time in inching forward to fill her up. Claire was panting, her nails digging into his back as she felt the burn between her thighs. He was everywhere, and he wasn’t even fully in yet. Harry paused for a few seconds before rocking in again to get deeper. Claire bit her lip with a high moan escaping her lips.

“Quiet.” Harry whispered, kissing her shortly. She nodded frantically, “I-I know, fuck – you’re so big.”

“You can take it.”

Claire arched, Harry holding onto her waist before sliding his hand up to play with her nipple. He cupped her breast, giving a squeeze before using his thumb to tease her. He used his other hand to grip the bedding, holding himself up on his elbow.

“Fuck.” He whimpered when he finally bottomed out. Harry relaxed slightly, feeling his hips flush to Claire’s thighs. His cock twitched inside of her, a tight fit between her snug, wet walls. She was panting underneath him, the sight so erotic. He couldn’t help himself when he let go of her breast and grabbed her throat instead, giving a light squeeze while kissing her.

He swallowed down her moans as he started moving, rearing back about halfway before rocking in again. He kept the pace slow and gentle for now to let her adjust, and their tongues roamed each other’s mouths in the meantime. Harry was sure to have marks down his back from her nails as Claire clawed at him.

“Okay?” Harry checked breathlessly as he brushed his lips over hers. “Yes.” Claire confirmed, “You can go harder.”

Harry sighed, “Thank god.” And then he picked up his pace and the strength of his thrusts. The breath got knocked out of Claire’s lungs with each drop of his hips on hers, nudging up a spot so deep inside it felt near unbearable yet she still wanted more.

Harry shifted his hips, scooting closer as his lips were on her neck and he buried his face in her throat. “God, you feel so good.” He moaned, “Such a fucking tight cunt for me.”

With the constant shifting in his position, it didn’t take Harry long to find her g-spot. Claire jolted up with a high whine the moment his tip brushed up her front wall, and her legs spasmed. He could feel her gushing slightly as her muscles clamped around him tightly.

“Oh my god!” Claire moaned, causing Harry to slap his hand right over her mouth, “Keep it down.” He hissed, holding his hand to muffle her moans. A tear escaped her eye as he kept pounding her into the mattress in a murderous pace, just like she had asked him to.

“Am I getting you close, baby?” He near taunted, sweat pearling at his hairline and a smirk gracing his pink lips at the sight of her wrecked state, “Already?” He added.

Claire managed to nod and he tutted her, “Good. Found your sweet spot, didn’t I? Right…” He brought his hips back before thrusting sharply, “there?”

Claire’s eyes rolled back as she shook uncontrollably, another wave of squirt wetting Harry, who moaned at the feeling and the sight, “Fuck yes, get wet on my cock, hm? Need you to cum for me, Claire. You fucking deserve it.” He put force behind his words and power into his hips, relentlessly fucking into her.

He kept his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet, and Claire sobbed as she was on the edge. Harry thought about it. Teasing her, torturing her. But her eyes were watery, her nails denting his skin and her pussy so good for him. He allowed her to cum. With two more deep thrusts, Claire convulsed. A scream ripped through her chest, muffled by Harry’s hand as he fucked her through the orgasm. Claire’s legs clenched around him as she arched and writhed.

“’S good, that’s good.” Harry praised, kissing away her tears, “Fuck, that’s so good. Y’feel so fucking amazing, cumming on my cock like that. Such a good girl.”

Claire whined against his hand, her fingers curling around his wrist to pull at his arm. Harry let go, letting Claire desperately inhale the breath her lungs so badly needed. She coughed slightly from the gagging, wheezing in air as her body trembled in the aftermath of her orgasm. Harry’s thrusts had turned into gentle grinding motions, smirking down at her, “Feel good?”

“Oh my god.” Claire whimpered, still shuddering, “S-So good. Holy shit. I’ve never had an orgasm like that.”

They both slowed down a little, Harry’s cock painfully twitching inside of her. Claire blinked her eyes open, “Can you still keep going?”

“Mhm.” Harry swallowed, “Little more. I think I could get you to cum again.”

She smiled, biting her lip, “That would be great.”

He kissed her, smiling against her lips. His heart fluttered as she ran a hand through his hair, massaging his scalp a little. Harry hummed against her lips, still inside of her, “I’m afraid I’m obsessed with you.”

“Same.” Claire breathed back without a thought, her eyes exuding warmth and comfort as she stared up at him. A slight clench of her pussy brought Harry back to his mission of the night. Getting her off again.

Without warning, he lifted up on his arms and slid back, slipping from her. Claire gasped at the loss of contact, watching dazedly as Harry leaned down between her legs and his hot mouth was on her. “Oh! Oh my god." Claire breathed, hips jolting up as he licked at her, tongue wiggling between her pussy lips and up to her clit to give a harsh suck. Claire bit her lip, “H-Harry…” She moaned.

He hummed back, sliding the flat of his tongue up her cunt before sitting up again. He licked around his lips, tasting her before tapping her thigh, “Are you gonna ride me?”

Claire was still catching her breath as she swallowed, “I don’t think my legs work.”

Harry chuckled, biting his lip, “Won’t have to do anything. Just get on top of me.” He urged her and Claire nodded, letting him help her as they switched positions. Much like on the couch, Claire straddled him. The wet of her pussy pressed into the base of his cock, grinding softly as they indulged in another making-out session.

Harry held her hair back and had one hand on her ass, cupping the flesh and squeezing, urging her to grind into him. When he felt like Claire was too scared to fully sit down on him, he slapped her ass and she gasped, no longer holding herself up.

“So beautiful.” Harry whispered, head popped up on a few pillows as Claire hovered over him. They shared little kisses as he urged her hips up to sink down on him. “God – fuck.” Claire whimpered as she took him, slowly sitting down on his cock and feeling him in a different angle.

“Good, good.” Harry praised, his eyes closing as her warm cunt swallowed him, “So fucking good.” It sounded like a slur and both took a moment to adjust again.

“Hands behind your back.” Harry instructed in a strained voice, “Fuck, ‘m not gonna last long.”

Claire quickly obliged, depending on Harry’s arms to hold her a little upright. She was leaned completely over him, face hovering over his. Harry held one hand in the back of her neck with her hair in a makeshift ponytail, and held his other hand around her throat to keep her head tilted up.

With Claire’s arms behind her back, she was completely folded up for him and she loved it. She could feel her wetness seeping from her pussy, making a mess of Harry’s thighs. He didn’t seem to mind one bit, hardly paying it any attention before he started fucking up into her.

The position made Claire gasp, her body going lax for a moment before the pleasure consumed her and she let herself get used by Harry. He was so insanely deep like this, it was almost painful but in the best way. She’d be sore, for sure. She’d feel him for days, the way he stretched her and claimed her. God, it was everything she had craved.

“Holy shit – Claire,” Harry panted, “I need you to cum again.”

“Uh-huh.” She managed to choke out, “Please, it’s so good.” Her eyes watered again and Harry groaned softly, staring at her. They kissed again, his hand no longer on her throat but affectionately cupping her cheek as her tongue slipped into his mouth.

It was like he needed that moment before turning into a full animal. Holding both hands on the makeshift ponytail, he gave her a sharp tug to have her staring up at the ceiling. With Claire folded back in half and her hands still behind her back, Harry was relentless in the way his hips snapped up and his cock moved inside of her wet pussy.

“O-Oh god, Harry!” Claire squeaked, “I’m gonna cum. So hard, fuck.” Her words were jumbled and stuttering, her eyes tightly screwed shut as her second orgasm washed over her. She was quiet this time, unable to get out a sound or a word. Harry let go of her hair and Claire dropped her face in the crook of his neck, panting out desperately as she clenched and shuddered and convulsed around him.

Harry’s eyes rolled back at the feeling, “Shit, oh god.” He cursed, sliding both hands down to her ass to knead her and keep her firmly pressed to him. He grabbed the flesh, spreading her cheeks and rolling her back down onto him as he finished inside of the condom. He was sweaty and clammy, and Claire was sprawled out on top of him without the ability to move.

Both stayed like that for a moment. Claire shuddered every so often, her muscles tensing after two harsh orgasms as Harry was melted into the bed with her on top of him. They shared gentle caresses, his fingers dancing over her spine as she stroked her thumb over his jaw, “Wow.” Claire whispered after a few minutes.

Harry lazily smiled with his eyes closed, “Yeah. Wow. Shit, that was good.”

“Mhm.” She hummed and Harry sighed, “We should clean up a bit, hm? And go to sleep?”

Claire was yawning as she agreed, “Yes.”

Grabbing her hip, Harry gently nudged her off. Claire let him, no strength in her legs as she fell on the mattress next to him. Harry’s cock slipped out of her, softening up inside of the condom and he hissed in sensitivity as he got up and headed into the en-suite bathroom to clean up and dispose of the condom.

After washing his hands, he went to get Claire. He pulled her up, “C’mon, you need to pee.” He whispered. Claire fought to keep her eyes open, fully naked as Harry helped her into the bathroom and gave her the privacy to use the toilet.

Both brushed their teeth after that and collapsed in the bed. No words were spoken when Harry pulled Claire into his side for her head to rest on his chest and her arms to wrap around him. He cuddled her back, brushing his lips over her forehead, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” She whispered back, giving one more kiss to his neck before falling asleep.

Harry feared that it might be awkward in the morning, waking up with Claire after that. But it wasn’t. If anything, his heart soared as he was woken up with kisses to his chest, leading up to his neck and his jaw as her hand stroked over his side.

He shortly squeezed her body, eyes still closed, “Hey.” He rasped. Claire smiled into his neck, her leg hooked over his hips, “Hi, good morning.”

He kept his eyes closed as he lazily rolled around with her, changing the position until he was cuddled into her side with his face in her neck, “What time is it?”

“The sun’s coming up.” Claire responded in a whisper. Harry’s arms were around her and he inhaled her scent, puckering his lips, “Hmm.”

“Think we woke anyone last night?”

His lips curled into a soft smirk, remembering every second as he let out a breath, “Don’t think so, no. How are you feeling?”

“Good.” Claire whispered, shifting a little in his hold until she cupped his jaw. Harry’s eyes opened as he felt her kissing him, a few gentle pecks placed on his lips. He smiled involuntary, staring at Claire who looked giddy and sparkly in the morning.

“This is a nice way to wake up.” He whispered and she hummed, “It sure is.” They were in silence for a bit until Claire took a breath, “So what’s usually for breakfast on Saturdays?”

“Pancakes.” Harry yawned. He gently squeezed her waist, “Wanna help me?”

About ten minutes later, they were in the kitchen. Claire was dressed in her underwear and just a shirt of Harry’s, reaching well over her ass while they roamed around the kitchen to get everything for the pancakes and stealing kisses in between. Harry could hardly focus on the stupid pancakes, constantly having his hands on her and hiking up the shirt to get a peek of what was underneath.

“Harry.” Claire giggled, “The boys will be up soon.”

He stood behind her, pushing her into the countertop a little as his fingers toyed with the hem of the shirt. His lips were on her neck from behind, “We’ll hear.” He whispered, “Just a quickie.”

Claire didn’t say anything, and Harry felt her giving in as she relaxed. He smirked into her neck, “So good for me.” He murmured lowly, bunching the shirt up around her waist. He pulled back a little to stare at her ass, covered by the thin band of lace of the red thong. He bit his lip, grazing his thumb over the fabric, “Let me get a condom.” He whispered.

She whined in protest, grabbing his wrist to keep him right where he was, “No, fuck that. Just do me.” She sighed, “Fuck me bare. I wanna feel you.”

Harry groaned, not needing more convincing than that. He was quick, hooking her thong to the side and pushing his sweats down. He spat down into his hand to lube himself up, guiding between her ass cheeks to find her weeping pussy. Claire leaned over the countertop a bit more to make it easier, and Harry pushed in slowly again.

He watched, the way her fingers gripped around the edge of the countertop, the way her back tensed at the intrusion, the way her head dropped and the way her legs trembled as he entered her again.

“Are you sore?” He whispered, urging her to stand up straighter again so he could wrap his arms around her. They slipped underneath the shirt, palming her tits as Claire leaned her head back on his shoulder, “A bit, but it’s so okay.” She responded. Harry hummed, nipping on her neck as he started fucking her. He was sensitive, early in the morning. His cock was painfully hard and he sighed in bliss of being inside of her again.

The kitchen was silent apart from the steady ticking of the clock and the faint sound of a car driving by every once in a while. They breathed sharply and heavily, but both kept their moans down. The only other thing that could be heard was the sound of Harry’s hips slapping into her ass, fucking her from behind.

It didn’t feel like enough anymore, and after a few minutes he slipped out to turn her around. Grabbing her thighs, Harry easily lifted Claire up on the countertop, lips hovering over one another as he pushed in again. His cock shone in the slick of her arousal, easily sinking back into her pussy as she sat up at the perfect height.

He held one hand on her thigh, hiking it up over his hips as he fucked her quickly and sharp. “Fuck.” Harry choked out a whisper, tugging Claire to the edge to get deeper. She leaned back on one palm, watching him intently as Harry fucked her for his own pleasure. She didn’t mind. Claire was too sore and tired to reach an orgasm, but watching Harry as he neared his own end, was mesmerizing.

No words were spoken, but his jaw went slack and he buried himself deep inside of her when finishing. As Harry felt like he was unable to keep his moans down, he desperately kissed her, spurts of his cum filling Claire on an early, lazy Saturday morning in the kitchen. His fingers dented her hips as his orgasm seemed endless, fucking her bare. She felt amazing and he hadn’t expected anything less.

Both were panting as the ringing in Harry’s ears subsided. He relaxed a little, unclenching his muscles as he stroked up Claire’s sides, “Shit, you didn’t cum.” He panted out. She hummed, “That’s okay. You can make it up to me later.”

He breathed out a chuckle, it quickly disappearing as he heard a door upstairs. Claire’s eyes widened and Harry glanced around to reach for tissues. He slipped out of her, using the tissues to clean up any spilling of his cum. In an ideal world, he’d watch intently as it oozed out of her swollen cunt, possibly use his mouth on her decently this time.

But they didn’t have time. Footsteps from upstairs hurried down the stairs and he heard the giggling of two little boys as Claire hurried into the downstairs bathroom to clean up and get decent. Harry washed his hands and used a clean cloth to wipe down the countertop.

By the time Claire returned from the bathroom, the sight in front of her warmed her heart. Harry was playing around in the kitchen with Atlas and Finn. And everything just felt so normal. She walked up behind him as he stirred the pancake batter. It didn’t feel weird when she wrapped her arms around his form and pressed a kiss to his clothed shoulder, “Can we stay for breakfast?”

Harry glanced at her over his shoulder, seeing the softness in her eyes. He smiled and reached back further to bump his nose into hers, “You can stay forever.”

//

[youremyheaven]

The Severity, Spirituality and Stoicism of Saturnians ✊🏼🧎‍♀️💁🏼‍♀️

I will be criticizing Saturnian men throughout this post, if you don't like that, stop reading right now <3

Saturn is the planet of karma, justice, discipline, and order. In Claire's video about Saturnian men, she observed that "in Saturnian men you will find an exact duality contained here in breaking rules and doing strange stunts, pranks and having outbursts etc but also paradoxically find themselves submitting to ideologies, cults, political parties, motivational affirmations etc"

I feel like I touched upon this a bit in my first post about Saturn and in this post I'd like to go into different manifestations of this tendency along with some other things I've observed with Saturnian men.

Timothee Chalamet, UBP Moon

Full disclosure, I've never liked him lmao,, I think the hype he gets is undeserved and 90% bc of the fact that there is a dearth of young charismatic actors in Hollywood.

But anywayyys, Timmy Tim first attracted controversy for working with Woody Allen even though he's since expressed regret for it or whatever,, then he received flak for having sex in a pool during the height of the pandemic and manyyyy blinds about him giving women chlamydia 💀💀started making the rounds and he was lowkey exposed for being a whore

Then last year he drew criticism for smoking indoors at a Beyonce concert (where smoking is prohibited) and he's literally talking to Kylie and blowing smoke ??? at the same time?? which is sooo filthy?? who tf does that??

His silence on the Armie Hammer issue and pretty much all issues lol have also been criticized. Everybody thought he'd be some woke liberal activist but he's just been dead quiet and pretty self absorbed the whole time. He loves to lap attention and give absolutely nothing in return to the community.

The thing with Saturn however is that, bad behaviour does not go unpunished. Timmy Tim has been getting A LOT of flak and the total rose tinted obsession people had with him is slowly fading (even tho he still has legions of fans). People are now starting to see his true colors.

But anyway, this is a very minor issue compared to all the other Saturnians I'm going to mention next.

Jeffrey Epstein, UBP Moon, Anuradha Rising

I'm assuming most of you are familiar with sex offender Epstein. He has trafficked thousands of underage girls over the course of decades and to satiate numerous high profile paedophiles.

He committed suicide while in prison. One thing about Saturn is that, if you stray, are immoral, unfair, undisciplined, corrupt, foul, evil etc it WILL punish you. The truth is Saturnians know deep down that what they're doing IS wrong, they're not like Moon dominants who are completely convinced their corrupt evil idea is a "good" one. Saturnians know full well what they're doing and they do it anyway and they suffer its consequences.

Inviting Saturn's wrath upon oneself is basically how these natives find "balance", they feel like they get away with too much and they're constantly pushing their limits to see how far they can go before this wrath comes for them.

Epstein had been doing this for decades without much consequence, working with extremely high profile people including politicians and royalty. Eventually, he was caught and the truth of his immorality was exposed for all to see AND he ended his own life.

Salvador Dali- UBP Moon

Dali was known for being an eccentric and a weirdo and you can say that the way he pushed his boundaries as an artist is a more "positive" manifestation of Saturnian individuals and their need to test limits.

However, Dali was also a pretty messed up guy

Dali admitted on several occasions to having sadomasochistic tendencies. As a child he enjoyed throwing himself down the stairs, explaining that “The pain was insignificant, the pleasure was immense”. Shockingly, he once pushed his childhood friend off of a 15-foot bridge – as his friend lay injured, Dali apparently sat calmly eating cherries.

Pleasure and pain seemed intimately entwined. Dali wanted both. One other childhood incident of note included a wounded bat. It was kept in Dali's washhouse hideaway and stayed there overnight. When Dali returned to it was being devoured by a mass of ants. He impulsively bit into the seething mass delirious with pleasure. 

I had briefly mentioned how Saturnians tend to be sadomasochistic in my previous post about Saturn and these examples just confirm it further.

When he is an adolescent a girl falls desperately in love with him. He kisses and caresses her so as to excite her as much as possible, but refuses to go further. He resolves to keep this up for five years (he calls it his ‘five-year plan’), enjoying her humiliation and the sense of power it gives him. He frequently tells her that at the end of the five years he will desert her, and when the time comes he does so.

When he first meets his future wife, Gala, he is greatly tempted to push her off a precipice. He is aware that there is something that she wants him to do to her, and after their first kiss the confession is made:

I threw back Gala's head, pulling it by the hair, and trembling with complete hysteria, I commanded: ‘Now tell me what you want me to do with you! But tell me slowly, looking me in the eye, with the crudest, the most ferociously erotic words that can make both of us feel the greatest shame!’ Then Gala, transforming the last glimmer of her expression of pleasure into the hard light of her own tyranny, answered: ‘I want you to kill me!’

He is somewhat disappointed by this demand, since it is merely what he wanted to do already. He contemplates throwing her off the bell-tower of the Cathedral of Toledo, but refrains from doing so.

George Orwell once described Dali this way:

"The two qualities that Dali unquestionably possesses are a gift for drawing and an atrocious egoism."

Art historian and critic Brian Sewell has also claimed that Dali once asked him to lie naked in front of one of his sculptures and masturbate whilst he watched.

He was also obsessed with Hitler in a perverse way.

While the vast majority of the Surrealist group professed far-Left political leanings, Dali kept curiously quiet during his early career, before being kicked out of the group for being a Nazi sympathiser, which he denied. Dali went on to make artwork addressing the Hitler, including “The Enigma of Hitler” (above) and “Hitler Masturbating”, once detailing that he “often dreamed of Hitler as a woman” and that the Nazi dictator “turned [him] on”.

He was a big old fascist who also supported the Spanish dictator Franco which made Picasso stop talking to him for the rest of his life. Orwell who fought in the Spanish civil war called Dali a "disgusting human being".

At age six, Dalí writes in his autobiography, he pre-meditated a "terrible kick" to his three-year-old sister's head "as though it had been a ball." Not simply childish not-knowing-better, this baseless cruelty continued as Dalí got older.

Here is an article that says more about his shitty behaviour.

Here is another article about his fcked up relationship with his sister

Saturn never fails to punish tho. It will let you fck up but punishment is imminent.

Dali died in his 80s, almost penniless, completely alone, as he had driven all his friends off decades prior, his wife had already passed and he was seriously ill and bedridden. He used button to call his nurse and one day that button short circuited and set him/the bed on fire. He suffered second and third degree burns all over his body. He lived for another four years in severe pain before passing away.

Just because you go a whole lifetime avoiding punishment, does not mean it isn't coming. People who suffer in old age have it the worst because you suffer 100x more

Dali was a Saturn defying narcissistic, violent, abusive person and guess what Saturn did? It saved it all up for the very end and left him without any kind of mercy. Friendless, penniless, bedridden, in excruciating pain, FOR YEARS until he finally died.

Saturn punishes you/is a harsh teacher because it wants you to uphold the Saturnian qualities of virtue, justice, fairness, doing your duty etc, you may never see the rewards of your good actions, so it may feel like a waste of time to keep being so principled but if you decide to just do whatever and disobey, you best believe Saturn will come through with that wrath. You have to keep being virtuous and morally upright even if you don't see yourself being "rewarded" for it. No one may recognise your goodness but keep being good anyway.

Alexander Graham Bell, Venus in UBP in 2h, Saturn in Shatabhisha in 1h

He is the guy who invented the telephone but he was also a very controversial deaf educator in his time.

Bell's father was a teacher of the deaf. His method of teaching the deaf was coined "Visible Speech." Bell's mother was deaf/hearing impaired and he would often speak to her by placing his mouth close to her forehead, believing the vibrations from his voice would help her distinguish speech more clearly.

Although he married a deaf woman, a former speech pupil, Mabel Hubbard, Bell strongly opposed intermarriage among congenitally deaf people. Bell feared "contamination" of the human race by the propagation of deaf people even though most deaf people statistically are born to hearing parents.

Bell applied his study of eugenics to his goal of preventing the creation of a deaf race and presented his paper Memoir Upon the Formation of a Deaf Variety of the Human Race to the National Academy of Sciences in 1883.4

Bell stated, "Those who believe as I do, that the production of a defective race of human beings would be a great calamity to the world, will examine carefully the causes that will lead to the intermarriage of the deaf with the object of applying a remedy."

In this paper, he proposed to reduce the number of the deaf by discouraging deaf-mute to deaf-mute marriages, advocating speech reading and articulation training for an oral-only method of education, removing the use of deaf teachers and sign language from the classroom.

Suggestions were made to enact legislation to prevent the intermarriage of deaf-mute people or forbidding marriage between families that have more than one deaf-mute member. His preventative strategies for deaf marriage included removing barriers to communication and interaction with the hearing world.

I feel like Saturnians often have a tendency to subconsciously make things harder for themselves and for others. Getting things easy is not Saturn's style. And this can manifest in sooooo many different ways. Bell grew up with a father who taught deaf people/children, his mother was deaf, he married a deaf woman YET he believed that they did not deserve to have separate schools that used communication tools specifically designed for them to make their lives easier. He spent his entire life working with deaf people but still somehow did not want things to be easier for them???

Steve Jobs, UBP moon

He had a pretty stellar reputation for being a major asshole. He was an extremely difficult person to work with and often terrorised his employees and was a toxic vile asshole to the women he dated.

Jobs was given up for adoption by his parents and later in life, he abandoned his girlfriend and baby after he got her pregnant.

His daughter Lisa later said that her mother felt uncomfortable leaving her with Steve alone after an incident in which he questioned and teased the then-nine-year-old Brennan-Jobs about her sexual attractions and proclivities.

Once, as Jobs groped his wife and pretended to be having sex with her, he demanded that Lisa stay in the room, calling it a "family moment."

It is well known that Steve Jobs was really good at conceptualizing things and coming up with ideas (touch screen phones, macbooks, iMacs etc) but he lacked the technical expertise to build anything. His partner, Steve Wozniak was the actual brains behind all of the creations to put it simply.

Early in his career, Jobs worked for the game developing company Atari who promised him a bonus of $5000 for developing a game called Breakout. Jobs did not have the know-how to execute this, so he made his friend Wozniak who worked at a different company stay up all night for 4 nights to design this whole ass game. He gave him $350 for it and told him he was giving him half of what the company paid him. Wozniak only found out much later that Steve basically stole his ideas, used him AND gave him a paltry sum as compensation.

Before Apple went public, Jobs refused to give any major shares to the many many developers and engineers who played a crucial role in pioneering the company. Wozniak gave those employees HIS shares so that they could make a profit when the company went public.

I'm not going to detail all the ways he tormented his employees and staff. You can google it.

Eventually, Saturn's karma started kicking in and Jobs was fired from the company he founded and for 10 years, he had to stay away from Apple. This experience humbled him a bit.

Apple really suffered in his absence and they brough him back in 1997 and we all know the kind of groundbreaking work he did in the next decade there. (hint: iphones, ipods etc)

In 2011, he found out he had terminal pancreatic cancer and resigned from his position and died 6 weeks later.

He refused to get surgery and chemo and chose "alternate treatments" until his disease had progressed so far that, there was no saving him.

He would eat a single thing and only that for weeks. Like apples. He'd eat only apples for three weeks. He was convinced that made him superior to everyone else and that it made him have no body odour, so he never showered either. This made it really hard for others to be around him.

Now back to his daughter, he was incredibly abusive to Lisa. She said she was forced to move home over 13 times before age seven as her mother struggled to pay the bills through a series of cleaning positions, while Jobs, then already a multi-millionaire, refused to help.

During one visit she innocently asked if she could be given his Porsche after learning the flashy vehicle had a scratch and needed to be replaced. His scowling response shocked Lisa, then aged seven.

“‘Absolutely not,’ he said in such a sour, biting way that I knew I’d made a mistake,” she remembers. “I understood that perhaps it wasn't true, the myth of the scratch: maybe he didn’t buy new ones. By that time I knew he was not generous with money, or food, or words; the idea of the Porsches had seemed like one glorious exception. I wished I could take it back. We pulled up to the house and he turned off the engine. Before I made a move to get out he turned to face me.

“‘You’re not getting anything,’” he said. “‘You understand? Nothing. You’re getting nothing.’ Did he mean about the car, something else, bigger? I didn’t know. His voice hurt—sharp, in my chest.” (an excerpt from her memoir 'Small Fry')

Saturn may delay punishment but it will punish and whether or not you learn from it, is up to you. Some individuals are not very malleable and they suffer the most. They make the same mistake over and over again and never learn. Steve died of any entirely preventable disease but he refused treatment. He was in excruciating pain towards his end and was completely bedridden. He expressed regret about not having gotten treatment sooner but :/

It's really scary how your karma catches up with you. Its the worst when it comes for you and leaves you with no time to remedy anything, so you just suffer agony knowing there is nothing you can do.

Woody Allen- Anuradha stellium (Sun, Mercury & Jupiter)

He molested his step daughter Dylan Farrow and is currently married to his former step daughter from the same marriage Soon Yi.

There has been a lot of misinformation regarding him molesting Dylan as a child even though the fact that he is literally married to one of his stepdaughters should be reason enough to suspect him

 Allen had been in therapy for alleged inappropriate behavior toward Dylan with a child psychologist before the abuse allegation was presented to the authorities or made public. Mia Farrow had instructed her babysitters that Allen was never to be left alone with Dylan.

 Allen refused to take a polygraph administered by the Connecticut state police. Instead, he took one from someone hired by his legal team. The Connecticut state police refused to accept the test as evidence. The state attorney, Frank Maco, says that Mia was never asked to take a lie-detector test during the investigation.

(Here is a link to the full article)

But again, Saturn's karmic lessons come through. Numerous actors have refused to work with Allen, he has been publicly condemned, lost all his reputation during #MeToo Actors such as Greta Gerwig, Colin Firth, and Mira Sorvino have recently apologized for accepting roles in Allen’s films, while many of his most avid fans have turned against him.

Johnny Cash, Rahu in UBP in 1h

Johnny was a drug addict and very abusive to his first wife. He creepily pursued June Carter while he was still married and despite her rejecting him MANY times, he did not give up. She was in a financially unfortunate position and he gave her the opportunity of touring with him, which she had to take up to make ends meet and finally in front of a live audience, he proposes marriage to her and basically forces her to say yes.

They remained married for 50 years and died within a year of each other so idk if they had a happy marriage or a troubled one but the Saturnian persistence was coming thru.

Cash's whole life is super Saturnian. His career came to a standstill in the 70s after a stellar decade long run in the 1960s, all throughout which he was abusing drugs.

In the early 1980s, Cash had eye surgery, broke several ribs, and damaged a kneecap, all on separate occasions, and again became addicted to pills. He was hospitalized in 1983 with internal bleeding that almost killed him. Upon regaining strength, he checked into the Betty Ford Clinic and remained clean until his death.

In 1994, after a looooong period of zero hits and chart play. He collabed with Rick Rubin (the GOAT) and then released a number of successful albums until he passed away in 2003 and from 1997 onwards he had been struggling with autonomic neuropathy and was frequently hospitalized.

Its interesting to me how between 1954 to 1973, Cash was undergoing his Saturn mahadasha and this period brought him enormous success and also made him completely addicted to substances. In 1965, he started a forest fire that burned off 500 acres of forest land and killed 49 of the refuge's 53 endangered condors. When confronted about it, he said "I don't care about your damn yellow buzzards".

From 1973-1990, he was undergoing his Mercury dasha, and this was a very low period in his career as he suffered major setbacks.

As he's sobering up at the Carter's family ranch, he's walking along a path. One of their ostriches is standing in the path. Well Cash thinks to himself "Hell if I'm moving" and tries to move it, so the bird starts trying to headbutt/peck at him, so he swings a punch at the bird, it responds by splitting his goddamn abdomen open with it's talon, from top to bottom. (he said the only thing that stopped the talon was it got stuck on his leather belt and couldn't go further). So he's laying on the ground, and grabs a branch (or an old fence post, can't remember) and starts beating it from the ground until it runs away.

Its interesting how his major highs in life were during his Saturn MD (He has Saturn in Uttarashada in 11h) and his biggest blows came during his Mercury MD (he does have Mercury in Shatabhisha in 12h 😬).

Mercury is not an inherently difficult dasha the way Saturn is. But what we sow, we shall reap. Saturn gives you 19 years to get your shit together and if you don't really learn during this period, it gets on your ass long after that. Jennie from Blackpink ended her Saturn MD in 2019 and some of her career's biggest moments have come since then but so have the controversies (she's currently in her Mercury MD) and it's as though the lingering after effects of the Saturn dasha really dictates how we experience our Mercury dasha.

Winston Churchill, Anuradha Sun

In 1943 in Bengal, over 3 million people died due to starvation and Churchill was directly responsible for this.

Churchill deliberately ordered the diversion of food from starving Indian civilians to well-supplied British soldiers and even to top up European stockpiles, meant for yet-to-be-liberated Greeks and Yugoslavs (all of this happened during WW2 for context)

He basically said, this is none of my business. Even though millions of Indian soldiers fought for the British during WW2 and were British subjects until India gained independence in 1947. Also btw India was the biggest contributor to the Empire's GDP. they looted and plundered us and left us to starve, basically.

In the book, Churchill’s Secret War: The British Empire and the Ravaging of India during World War II, written by Madhusree Mukerjee, Churchill was quoted as blaming the famine on the fact Indians were “breeding like rabbits”, and asking how, if the shortages were so bad, Mahatma Gandhi was still alive. 😡🤬😠he was a racist imperialist pig to say the least.

Some people are Churchill defenders and genuinely believe that the Bengal famine was a necessary sacrifice to win the war, and that those who critiqued him were unfair and had little insight about WWII. Aka: the colonized are expendable in a war between essentially imperialist, genocidal and fascist states. And they can kiss my ass.

To Indians, Churchill is a Hitler-like figure and rightfully so.

"I do not agree that the dog in a manger has the final right to the manger even though he may have lain there for a very long time. I do not admit that right. I do not admit for instance, that a great wrong has been done to the Red Indians of America or the black people of Australia. I do not admit that a wrong has been done to these people by the fact that a stronger race, a higher-grade race, a more worldly wise race to put it that way, has come in and taken their place."

Winston Churchill to Peel commission in 1937. 

Here is a thread that elaborates the many fcked up things he did.

When I talk about how cruel, brutal and callous Saturnian men can be, this is what I mean. Saturn restricts, limits and binds. This can easily mean Saturnians subject themselves and others to unnecessary rules, restrictions and limits.

Steve Jobs thought he was superior to others bc he only ate one type of food for weeks and months. Just because someone has discipline, does not automatically mean its good to have it. Free range parents can suck because they dont protect you or shelter you but disciplinarian parents also suck. Both Jupiter and Saturn struggle to learn "balance".

An unevolved Saturnian will be stingy af, very partial, biased and ill mannered. They act like cave men.

Churchill struggled with his mental health his whole life. He referred to it his “black dog:” fits of melancholia that followed Churchill throughout his life and often left him bedridden, suicidal and unshakably depressed for months at a time. It may sound cruel to say poor mental health is "karma" for his actions. (He also suffered 7 strokes and the final one, killed him). But the ways in which we are punished are often not materially obvious??? We may see terrible people thrive but often they are really suffering on the inside. Saturn often punishes by depriving you of peace of mind :/

Thomas Alva Edison, Anuradha Rising

In 1884, Nikola Tesla moved to New York City to meet Edison, who was famous for his low-voltage, direct-current electricity. Tesla believed the higher-voltage alternating current electricity was superior and suggested creating an AC-powered motor, but Edison claimed it was too dangerous. Instead, Edison promised the recent immigrant $50,000 (over $1 million today) if he could improve upon his DC generators, or “dynamos.”

After toiling for several months and making significant advances, he returned for his reward, only for Edison to say, “When you become a full-fledged American, you will appreciate an American joke.” Tesla quit—but the bullying didn’t stop there.

George Westinghouse had purchased Tesla’s patents and became the pioneering force behind AC power and its widespread implementation. Edison, who was ideologically and financially invested in his own DC power, began a publicity campaign against AC power. The campaign was ruthless; he wanted to prove that the high voltage of AC power was too dangerous for public use, so he and his cohorts began publicly electrocuting animals—stray dogs and cats, cattle and horses, and even, notoriously, “Topsy” the elephant. (you can hate me for pointing out how unevolved Saturnians abuse animals all you want but it will not stop it from being true<333)

The story gets worse. Edison was asked whether electrocution was a humane method of execution. In reply, he claimed that with Westinghouse’s AC power, it was indeed a humane and reliable execution. Westinghouse of course tried to prevent such an association, but Harold Brown, one of Edison’s employees, was hired by the state of New York to build the first electric chair. Obviously, he used AC power.

The execution—the first use of the electric chair—took place on August 6, 1890. AC power proved neither reliable nor humane. The first, 17-second-long charge failed to kill the man, an alleged axe murderer; after waiting for the generator to recharge and amping up the voltage, the next charge at last brought an end to the horrible, 8-minute long ordeal. Westinghouse, disgusted, reportedly said, “They would have done better with an axe.”

For his last two years, a series of ailments caused his health to decline even more until he lapsed into a coma and died at the age of 84.

Bo Burnham, Venus/Jupiter/Ketu in Pushya and Anuradha Rising

He does have a reputation for being a dick but I wanted to mention him because I think his sense of humour is VERY Saturnian. He has this tendency to humble his audience and its super Saturncoded to me. Like his whole shtick is serving you with a reality check in a slightly condescending way which is extremely Saturnian.

He often makes "ironically" misogynistic jokes or whatever and its laced with that Saturnian bitterness except he's slightly self aware I guess.

Aziz Ansari, Venus & Mars in UBP and Jupiter in Anuradha

Tbh other than the fact that his stand up comedy routines are hella lame, I dont really have much dirt on him.

However, he did sexually assault a woman in 2018 and nobody has heard much from him since tbh. I guess its an example of "instant karma".

Mads Mikkelsen, Anuradha Sun conjunct Ketu

Mads aka the man who made a career out of playing the bad guy

This isn't about Mads but about his most well known role, playing Hannibal Lecter.

Hannibal imo is very very Saturncoded

 He is highly intelligent and cultured, with refined tastes and impeccable manners. He is deeply offended by rudeness, and often kills people who exhibit bad manners; according to the novel Hannibal, he "prefers to eat the rude". Hopkins described Lecter as the "Robin Hood of killers", who kills "the terminally rude".

Saturnians are either extremely refined or very unkempt. There is no in-between. You can always tell when someone has an imbalanced Saturn influence based on how disorderly, messy and chaotic they are.

In the novel Red Dragon, the protagonist, Will Graham, says that psychologists refer to Lecter as a sociopath "because they don't know what else to call him". Graham says "he has no remorse or guilt at all", and tortured animals as a child, (👀) but he does not exhibit any of the other criteria traditionally associated with sociopathy. Asked how he himself would describe Lecter, Graham responded, "he's a monster. I think of him as one of those pitiful things that are born in hospitals from time to time. They feed it, and keep it warm, but they don't put it on the machines and it dies. Lecter is the same way in his head, but he looks normal and nobody could tell."

Hannibal embodies the disciplined, orderly conduct of an evolved Saturnian along with the cruelty and harshness of it.

Charlie Puth, Anuradha Sun & Mars

half of this guy's discography is about how he hates women from LA. He literally has one song called "Nothing But Trouble (Instagram Models)" and it's just about how instagram models make problems. He has another song called "L.A. Girls" about how women in LA are fungible. It's like yeah maybe instagram models do suck but no one made you date them??? 

These are lyrics from the song LA Girls:

"There was Nikki, Nicole, Tiffany, and Heather But there's only room for you in my world But you say that I changed like the east coast weather How the hell did I get caught up? Messin' with these LA girls"

When I tell you the Madonna-Whore complex runs DEEP with Saturnian men. They will fool around with you and think of YOU as "cheap" for doing so and fall for the girl who never gives it up. The double standards of Saturnians are 🤮🤢

They will get frisky and frivolous with you and judge you for it :/

Woody Harrelson, Pushya Sun, Anuradha Moon

When I think of unkempt Saturnians, I think Woody Harrelson lmao

While filming in London in 2002, Harrelson found himself at a bar when two women approached him. According to the actor, the women asked if he wanted to "take a walk on the wild side." To which Harrelson replied, "I guess I do." A third woman joined in the fun, and the foursome returned to Harrelson's accommodations and enjoyed what the outlet described as "whatever-happened-next." Unfortunately for the Rampart star, "a paparazzo was able to snap a photo that soon hit the tabloids." The worst part — his then-girlfriend and future-wife Laura Louie saw these photos in the press. This "led to a good bit of groveling on Harrelson's part," and the couple worked past the incident.

I think I have noticed about manyyyy Saturnian men is that they often have enabler wives who put up with their shit + encourage it. Steve Jobs' wife, Laurene Powell was like that. Steve was such a perfectionist that he did not even buy furniture for their house and yk what?? she was okay with that lol and they remained married until his death even though literally everybody who has ever known him describes him as an asshole.

Woody Allen's still married to Soon Yi who is also entirely defensive about him. Same goes for Harrelson's wife I guess. How on earth does someone work past a foursome??? wtf

"I used to go to bars and fight the guys I thought were bullies. I've got scars everywhere," he revealed to The Hollywood Reporter. His fighting ways continued even after becoming a famous actor. Like when he once punched a reporter and claimed he thought the photographer was a zombie. 

Saturnians never beating the abusive rumours 😩

On a different note, I've noticed how many Saturnian musicians make sad boy music with a ✨spiritual essence ✨

Sufjan Stevens is a UBP Moon

This is from a 2015 interview:

"I still describe myself as a Christian, and my love of God and my relationship with God is fundamental, but its manifestations in my life and the practices of it are constantly changing. I find incredible freedom in my faith. Yes, the kingdom of Christianity and the Church has been one of the most destructive forces in history, and there are levels of bastardization of religious beliefs. But the unique thing about Christianity is that it is so amorphous and not reductive to culture or place or anything. It's extremely malleable."

Tamino, UBP Moon

He said in an interview:

"We like to look at religious texts from all over the world, [and] they always share a lot of similarities. That's not because they necessarily influenced each other, it's more that our inherent experience as humans comes out through storytelling. It's awesome. So that's something that's really interesting: the story that we need to tell. And the stories that we tell will always survive longest. I think it sort of gives them a higher truth, a metaphysical truth, which makes religion quite beautiful to me. You don't have to necessarily believe in every little thing that's described in a book. I'm not a practicing believer—not in the classical sense. But I do have faith. I think a lot of people have faith without realizing [it]. Even waking up and starting your day, we all have like these little acts of fate throughout our lives without even noticing."

Hozier- Anuradha Moon

Faith is a big theme in their work and their lives and I feel like they are some evolved Saturnian men who have embraced the stoic spirituality of Saturn and poured it into their creativity.

In one interview, Hozier described Quakerism as a doctrine which taught him during childhood “to look for the God in each person” and “the spark of the divine that’s in every individual.” In particular, Hozier seeks this spark in his lover.

Its interesting to me how all 3 of them use religious metaphors often to speak of love because the ultimate form of love is devotion and Saturnians who have transcended the grips of limitations imposed by Saturn understand this more than anybody. They know what its like to love like their life depends on it.

Arnold Schwarzenegger, Pushya Sun

Many Saturnians love to talk about working hard and kicking ass. Arnold is one of them, although I will say his preachiness comes from his Punarvasu stellium lmao

Arnold is a good example of a man who has worked very very hard and abided by every Saturnian principle to climb the ladder to the top. Yet he cheated on his wife with his housekeeper. He however did not deny paternity of the son he fathered with her. He has also expressed his regret about cheating and how he lost his marriage.

Kim Kardashian, UBP Moon

She came under fire for her comments about "get your ass up and do the work" but honestly it's just Saturnian tough love

Kim is a good example of someone who has turned every single setback into a career opportunity. She is a true hustler. Obviously she's extremely privileged yada yada yada but she was Paris Hilton's assistant at one point and was at the bottom of the ladder. In 20 years she's built a fortune for herself and her family. Like, if it were Kourtney in Kim's place 🤡they wouldn't be where they are rn. Kim is a worker and its hard to deny that.

Rose- UBP Moon

In her interview with Vogue Australia, she said:

“I ended up fighting for my life, training for my life. Because I couldn’t accept the fact that I’d just be cut and sent back, so I had no time to slack off. I remember I took every minute and every second to work on my craft so that I [could] make it,” 

“When I got [to Korea], I was like, ‘This is quite intense,’” she said of the early period of training. “I notice[d] that there [were] 12 other girls who had been training day and night for about five years. And I had just gotten there.” She feared that if she didn’t catch up to the other she would be cut and sent back to Australia, where she’d already told her school friends that she was dropping out to work on her music. "

“I [had] left and I didn’t want to fly back [to Australia] without having achieved anything,” she said of her worry at the time. “And I think it was a good drive. Just the fact that I had flown all the way from Australia gave me more strength [and] determination to strive.”

Hardworking Saturnians ✊🏼🙏🏼🧎‍♀️making the most of that Saturnian determination and reaping its rewards OOF

[junedenim]

2003

beneath the boardwalk, part 1 (series masterlist)

bigger boys & stolen sweethearts

warnings: long-haul series, drug usage, fluff, angst, etc.

word count: 13k

As a favour to my friend, Joanie, I went to Barnsley College. She was my best friend and it was between that or going to Wakefield College. I didn't want to go to Wakefield. Everyone from Wakefield went to Wakefield College. Albie, my recently ex-boyfriend was going to Wakefield. So, I went to Barnsley.

I decided to study English Literature solely because I had no idea what else to do. I hated reading at that age and I don't know why I fathomed in my mind that it would be a proper fit for me other than the fact I liked to write. Still like to write.

Barnsley was more about my "friends" than education. Joanie and I got drunk most weekends and my whole friend group seemed to indulge in some version of friend-cest with one another. By the end of that first year, it seemed like everyone had seen a peek of someone else. I'm sure I got around more than most. I don't think I even enjoyed it half the time. I don't think most people enjoy sex at that age other than the rush of doing it and the inevitable quick release.

Matt seemed to be the only guy I wouldn't touch. I had met Matt in a photography class we both took and he became a good drinking buddy. At those booze-filled parties where people's noise would practically shake the building, Matt and I would sneak out and share a smoke with one another.

One night, as we were sitting on the curb next to each other, he asked me, "How come out of everyone at this school we've never hooked up?"

He passed me the cigarette. "I don't know," I told him. "I just don't see you that way, Matt."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Think it would be too weird."

Right before our first year was finished, Matt told me his band had their first gig in a couple of weeks. He didn't say it like an invitation. It was all casual, like, "There's this place called The Grapes. The band's got a gig there."

"Oh, cool," I told him. I'm not sure if he was expecting me to show up or just inform me. "Do you want me to come?"

He shrugged and took a bite out of the sandwich he was eating. It was silent for a moment and I thought that was it until he said, "You could bring a couple of your friends. Joanie or something. Make a night out of it."

I had already been informed by both parties that Joanie and Matt had hooked up last week but neither knew that the other had told me. I knew I wouldn't be seeing most of my friends over the summer and it felt like a rather nice bon voyage event.

So, I invited a group of friends like Matt requested. Rosie, Will, Claire, AB, and, of course, Joanie. Will and I had a complicated relationship, to say the least. We'd go back and forth from having sex like rabid bunnies and hating each other. When I invited him that night I had expected that I would end the night in bed with him. I'm sure he had the same impression.

AB was the gentleman of the group and in typical fashion resigned to being the designated driver. The rest of us were planning to get completely hammered.

The Grapes was bigger than I had expected. When I pictured a band performing their first gig, I suppose I imagined a garage somewhere. It wasn't giant by any means but there was a little stage that they all would squeeze on together.

I had met Alex before—in passing at any number of parties. I can't remember if I had been introduced to him before I knew Matt but I recognized his face somewhere. Like I had seen it before in some picture. I was likely too intoxicated at our first meeting to make much sense of what I said or what he said but the next time I was introduced to him, at this Grapes's show, he looked nervously fidgeting like he was desperate for a cigarette or something to choke back on.

"Jeanie, right?" He pointed his finger at me and smiled uncomfortably.

"Jane." I corrected him. To be honest, I think I only remembered his name because Matt told me he was the lead singer. I couldn't picture Alex as a lead singer.

He was endearingly embarrassed by his mistake and repeatedly went, "Oh, sorry, sorry, sorry." Like he had just rear-ended me or something. "Jane. Jane. Jane. Jane." Like it was his mantra helping him calm himself.

"It's fine," I told him. I was itching for a cigarette now too. It was awkward and the air at The Grapes felt too hot and sticky for North England.

"I'm Alex." He stuck his hand out like he was being interviewed for a job.

I shook his hand and said, "Good luck with your show." I smiled and passed by him walking over to where Claire had grabbed our seats. Something tells me his eyes were following me as I left.

I don't think of myself as some style icon. Others have placed that upon me, which is quite the honor, but at 17 I didn't feel that so much. However, that night I felt comfortable. It was a feeling I hadn't felt in my skin since maybe nursery. In my opinion, I hadn't worn anything marvelous. It was this orange and red plaid mini skirt with a red tank top I had tucked into it. I had brought a red cardigan with me if it got cold. I didn't often coordinate my outfits but I suppose it felt like a special occasion to me. I didn't think there was any need to impress anyone. So, on a rare instance, I was dressing for myself.

I think Will must have been grabbing my ass for half the show. I didn't tell him otherwise but I think if I was older I would have rejected it. Back then I didn't think I had the option. I regretted wearing that skirt.

They didn't blow me away but they were better than I expected. Matt was cocky when talking about them but Matt is still cocky talking about anything. But most times, he's being honest. I suppose I have to agree with his comment: "We're fucking brilliant. You'll see one day, J."

I didn't think I would ever talk to Alex again. I've been trained to avoid those awkward conversations and Alex was often the type to stay huddled in a corner, sometimes with a drink, sometimes with a lass. I hang around my own bunch. My arm rarely strayed from wrapped around Claire's side and we affectionately called each other "babe" just to have someone call us "babe."

Later that night, I accepted my fate of having to go out for a solo smoke. Matt was practically grinding up against Joanie at this point of the night. I went out and there Alex was, leaning up against the wall, having a smoke.

I decided to act like I didn't see him, which was probably rude but I didn't think he'd want to talk to me either. He was against the left side of the wall so I went to the right.

"'Ey, Jane." He called out to me.

It took me a second to get my feet to move and it took me too long to realize it was him calling me. I turned and he stood straight, staring at me. I felt myself get warmed in the cheeks with a mix of shame and flattery. I couldn't tell where he was heading with this and Will's hand had been on my ass for the past hour.

"Did we do alright?" He seemed to genuinely care. Now, I can tell you that this was a special thing. Then, I thought he did this with everyone.

"I thought so but I'm no critic."

He quickly shook his head refuting my comment. "Nah, nah. Matt's told me otherwise."

I snorted. An ugly snort. "Really?" I don't have the belief others talk about me when I'm not there. I'm some ghost in their mind.

"Yeah, yeah," he sounded like he was pacifying me. "He says you're a writer."

I shrugged. I didn't consider myself to be much of anything. "Just studying it. It's not like I've got anything published."

"Nah, nah." That was his most popular word. Some double-jointed phrase he said so much but had no clue that he did. "I don't believe all that. If you write then you're a writer."

"Everyone writes." I reasoned.

He didn't verbalize it this time. Just shook his head. "Not everyone."

"Are you a writer?" I was distancing myself without moving an inch. I looked away from him and went down to my cigarette. It seemed Alex had gotten a hold of me without ever holding a conversation with me before. I felt as though he must know all my deepest fears and insecurities like he was a psychic or something. That scared me more than anything. At the time, it was more violating to me than an unwanted grab on the ass.

He shrugged to answer me and returned to his smoke. I didn't let him off easily, I thought I had control now. "Would you say you're a musician just because you play music? Plenty of people do that."

I thought I would sway him off. Alex was a little lamb and I was about to bite his head off. Until, as always, he saw right through it. "You're trying to tease me, Jane, I can tell."

I scuffed and rolled my eyes. I stared at my shoes and in a nervous fit swung my left leg back and forth. "Deflecting."

"I suppose so," he conceded, "but so are you."

At that time I was a debater in all aspects of life. I liked the thrill of arguing. I suppose that's why I went back and forth between fucking and hating Will so much. Or I was just 17. They are much of the same.

"So," he interrupted the silence we were enduring together, "how was the show?"

I smiled softly. I wanted to be endearing to him. Fool him into thinking I was this sweet little girl and then trample him. "I'm very opinionated. You wouldn't want to know."

He chuckled and leaned away from me, up against the brick wall. Most guys I had known before—most 17-year-old guys I had known before—took my girlish smile and batting of my eyelashes as an invitation to try and mess about with me. Alex took it for what it was. A facade.

"I like the opinionated girls," Alex told me, "Means they have something going about in their head."

I gasped. "Most girls have a bunch more going about in their heads than boys."

He nodded. "I'm sure that's true." He took a puff and said, "Most people I can't see playing pinball with their own mind."

I crossed my arms and thought I was one-upping him when I said, "I'm more a solitaire kind of girl."

Alex chuckled, threw down his cigarette, and scuffed it out. "How lonely."

I was utterly exposed. In shock, I said, "What?" He shrugged, unsure of what to say. "I'm not lonely."

He shook his head. "I never said you were."

I rapidly nodded mine and needed to throw off any sign that he was right. That in some 5-minute chat outside a pub, he somehow knew everything about me. "Yes, you did."

"I just meant..." he trails, tossing around what to say in his own head. (Now I could realize he knew me so well because he knew his own mind so well.) "The mind is a lonely place to be."

I shook my head. I was sure of this. "You're just not being imaginative enough."

"I suppose not." He agreed. He stood up straight from the wall. Put one hand in his jeans pocket. Then, the other. "But I'm not a writer."

He headed off back into the pub and I stood outside thinking more than smoking my cigarette. I decided to myself I could think about what he said there in those minutes I had only outside and then I would never think about it again. I wouldn't lie awake that night and give thoughts to a boy who once vomited in the middle of a game of Spin the Bottle. One who spent most of our drunk nights, chatting about with one girl, and then not even going home with her. Then, I thought I must have been the girl tonight. I felt sorry for all the girls before that had to deal with him. I thought about yelling at him. Then, I thought about fucking him. Then, I just felt sorry for myself.

I didn't finish my cigarette and went back inside. I'm not sure what point I was trying to prove to Alex. I guess that I wasn't lonely, but, like everything, he was right about that too. Will grabbing my ass didn't disprove that.

I made eyes at him for most of the night. Challenging him. He was too busy talking to someone else. There always seemed to be someone else. Will was grabbing my ass and chatting a girl up at the same time. I began to question why I endured all this.

I excused myself to the bathroom but went to the bar where Alex was trying and failing to order a drink. "You have to be more assertive."

He smiled cheekily at me. I placed my back up against the bar and leaned my elbows on the edge. I was a character in a movie. A femme fatale. "I'm too quiet for that," Alex says.

I nodded. "You seem it."

"I guess I have that reputation." He acknowledged.

"Among other things." I was flirting but I couldn't tell if he was falling for it. He intrigued every corner of me. I couldn't tell if he was shy, not interested, or just oblivious.

He tried to flag down the bartender again. Failure. I faced the bar, lifted my hand, and received attention immediately. I experienced some perks as a woman. "What do you want?"

Alex didn't say anything for a moment. He laughed. He shook his head. "Whatever you've been having."

He made me laugh. "Two lime margaritas." I ordered and the bartender got to work.

"Is that a skill?" He asked me. "Like hailing a cab."

I shrugged. "I've never had to work at it. Some of us are naturally gifted, Turner."

He raised his eyebrows. "How'd you learn my last name?"

I smirked at him. "I don't have some glamorous spy story. Matt talks about you guys all the time. You've known each other for a long time."

"Yeah," he nods, "over a decade now."

"We're getting old now," I told him.

"I think you have some time until you have to worry about that, Jane." He said to me.

I disagreed. "You're old when you realize you're actually living a life."

"So, when you're 6?" He joked.

We both received our margaritas. I ran my fingertips around the rim of the glass. "Percisely, Turner."

"You're an awful cynic." He told me.

I returned to my old position of leaning on my elbows against the bar. Margarita in my left hand this time. I ignored his comment and said, "You fascinate me, Alexander."

He exhaled loudly. "I'm not very interesting."

I bite down on the lime I had been given. "That's exactly why."

Alex laughed. "You're not being very nice to me, Jane."

I giggled. "That's not what I meant. I like people who aren't full of themselves."

"Then, why do you hang out with Will so much?" He questioned.

I sighed, leaned my head back, and placed the back of my hand on my head in a form of dramatics. "I have no clue." It made him laugh and that made me laugh. When we both quieted down, I leaned closer to Alex. "But I'm here with you and Will is over there. You're very interesting, you just don't know it. I can't wait to see when you realize that."

"You sound like a psychic, Jane." He looked so dreamy there and for a moment I think I was looking into a crystal ball. Futures where we were side-by-side like this, smiling at one another, making eyes at one another, saying unwritten truths to each other in whispers. I felt he already knew all my secrets, he was letting me in on them and was interested in looking into my eyes with those chocolate pools of his. It was probably then that I knew I wanted to love him.

"I hope so." I smiled at him and he smiled at me and that was that. "You're very pretty, Turner. Has anyone ever told you that?"

He chuckled softly and boyishly. "My mum maybe."

I laughed too, soft, and boy, I could get used to this. I traced my own nose as I said, "You have this angle to your nose." I grinned wide and pearly, just admiring him. I pointed left and right to my eyes as I said, "Puppy dog eyes." He was a fan of that one, he smiled but tried to hide it. I pointed to the middle of my forehead as I said, "Strong widow's peak. Those are genetic, you know?"

"Yeah, we've got a couple of widow's peaks in my family." He told me.

"See." I kept my smile on. I pointed to my lips. "You always look like you're trying to find something to say. Rolling it back and forth and tasting it before you spit it out."

He smiled at me all lovely. "You've got a way with words, Jane. You should write that somewhere."

"Write about you?" I fanned disgusted. "Never."

I wrote about him in my diary that night. He became a main character in every story I told. He wormed his way like a true bookworm. He poked holes in all my stories and forced himself into them. I'm writing about him here.

Maybe he was the psychic.

*

In the nook of summer, I spent a month in the Bahamas with my family where the main food source was drinks and my father let me sit in on his poker games for the first time. When I returned, tanned and lush, in July, Joanie turned 18, the first of our group of friends. To my surprise, Joanie and Matt were still together. I never doubted the affection they had for each other but our group of friends went through relationships like my mother did with her liquor.

Two days after I'd returned to Wakefield, she threw a birthday party at Will's house because Will had the luxury of being an only child with parents who were always going on these couple retreats that we all thought were code for sex trips to Vietnam. 

In my typical fashion, I arrived an hour late with a dumb present and a dress that was too short. Mini-dresses were my religion at that age (maybe still are). I felt cute and exotic with a glowing complexion compared to the pale Brits. I had my hair in loose braids with bows tied to their ends and had stolen my mother's diamond earrings. I suffered from a deep superiority complexion and didn't care much that it was Joanie's birthday. I had turned it into my homecoming party.

"Janie Cavendish! Is that you?" Joanie exclaims too perky for my liking. Being called Janie made me want to barf. "We all thought your plane went down in the Pacific!"

"Atlantic," I corrected. Joanie likely eliminated some brain cells with the amount she had drunk before I'd arrived.

"Oh, oops! Come, come, sit!" She grabbed my hand and dragged me over to Will's mother's ugly Boca Do Lobo wrap-around couch likely already ruined by drink spills. I had noted the flimsiness Will cared for expensive things. For the first time, it revolted me.

The room was on fire with excitement, alcohol, drugs, and sex, but over on the filthy couch was just Rosie, who was nestled into Will, a development I wasn't aware of and hurt my heart more than I wanted to ever admit. AB appeared from out of thin air and yelled, "JC's here!" He then crashed into me with a hug and I never understood how he survived these parties sober but he refused a drink and offered you a ride home. He probably saved all of our lives.

On the other end of the couch's prongs was Paul, who I had definitely slept with and not remembered, and his girlfriend, Cecilia, who he had definitely been with when I had slept with. Not that I felt any guilty over it back then. My parents did it, why should it matter if I did it? It was Paul's problem, not mine.

Next to Cecilia was Jamie Cook doing something weird with his tongue, stretching his mouth with his dirty fingers, sticking his tongue out, and trying to touch his tongue to his nose. It both impressed me and disgusted me and if I had a drink I'd probably spit it out in laughter at the sight of it.

Matt was egging him on saying he was so close when his tongue was a mile away from his nose. Joanie left her place beside me and dove into Matt's arms, all drunk, flirty, and cutesy. She tapped his nose like he was her prized poodle.

Right at the end was Alex. Roughed up in some scruffy red tee and jeans that had a hole in it that his mum patched up and there was writing down the sides of them. He was talking to some girl and something bubbled in me that I couldn't explain away. I was offended his eyes didn't stare at me from the moment I walked in. To me, he was some lost pup who would follow me wherever I went. It wasn't true, I was the pup begging for attention. I found it ridiculous he wouldn't be all over me. I needed that to feel I had accomplished something. 

When AB left, I was on the other section of the couch, facing him, staring at him to convey some spell: look, look here, notice me, notice me! Alex only grew closer to the other girl and I must have missed something in the month I was gone. It felt like an atmosphere shift had occurred and I didn't feel pretty because Alex wasn't staring at me and Will was feeling up some other girl.

Drink.

It was the clearest solution for occupation purposes but Joanie's high-pitched voice irritated me and Rosie's tits nearly spilling out over Will made me feel the need to vomit. I ran into Claire, who hugged me, gave me her drink, and made me take Molly with her before leaving with her now-on-again boyfriend, Ollie. 

Claire's drink tasted like cherries and she could work as a bartender if I wasn't convinced she'd drink all the liquor at the bar. I poured vodka into the drink and returned to the couch where not much had changed except that someone else was sitting in my seat now.

"You're in my seat," I told the man. He was older, a few pounds overweight, and suffering from a massive neckbeard.

He scoffed, "It were empty when I got here."

I smiled and bowed my head, "Yeah, I went to get a drink but now I'm back."

He waved me off. "Ya got up."

"Yeah, I know, but I'm back now. Joanie's one of my best friends and it's her birthday party."

He laughed. "What are we at a 5-year-old's birthday party?"

I furrowed my brows. "What are you 40 hanging with teenagers?"

Rage covered his face and I'm certain his neckbeard moved like it itself was going to attack me. "Fuck off."

I grew pleasure inside me for the first time that night. If I couldn't make someone fall at my feet, at least I could knock someone down. "Give me my seat back. You could probably use the movement."

"Fuck. Off." He enunciated. 

"Give me my seat back."

"Fuck off!"

"Give me my seat back!"

"Fuck off!"

"Just give me the fucking seat back!"

"Fuck off!"

"Give me the fucking seat!"

"No, now fuck off!"

"No, give me the fucking seat!"

I didn't really even want the seat. I just got a kick out of the vein popping out of his forehead and the way a girl could make him sweat bullets of rage over the end piece of an offensive-looking couch.

But then he stood up, 6 feet 6 inches, and 15 stones of him towered over me. I felt small again like he was going to snap me in two. But my seat was empty! I twisted around him and sat down in my seat.

"Get up!" He yelled.

"No, fuck off!" I yelled back.

"Get the fuck up, bitch!"

I supposed we were both too focused on the other to notice that the party's population had turned toward our display. Everyone was either engaged or snickering at the display.

"It's my seat," I said calmly.

He didn't respond verbally, instead, he picked me up. I heard Joanie scream, "Matty, help her!"

I laughed. I didn't find the whole ordeal funny, I just wanted everyone else to feel I found it funny. My bones hurt, I was riddled with goosebumps and had my underwear exposed for everyone to see.

Joanie would later comfort me and tell me it wasn't a big deal because "everyone has seen you in your underwear already pretty much, I mean, you know, cuz you've slept with everyone." It didn't comfort me much to be called a slut in Joanie language.

Matt tried his best to rescue me but he was scrawny and this guy looked like Andre the Giant. Eventually, the commotion of the party and the embarrassment got to the guy and he dropped me to the floor where I fell onto my ass. My hair was falling out of my braids and my dress was twisted up. 

Matt helped me to my feet and to distract myself from the pain of falling straight onto my ass, I laughed into his shoulder. The ecstasy helped too.

"Are you okay?" He asked me.

Before I got an answer out Joanie rushed over and hugged me tight, highly increasing the already likely chance I'd be bruised tomorrow. "Oh, my god, Janie!" A shiver went down my spine at the word. "You're going to be okay. Get that guy out of my party!" She acted like she was the Queen of Hearts ordering for him to be executed. Andre the Giant had already left. I think she just wanted to feel like she helped in some way.

"Yeah." I felt like crying but I turned to where the crowd had gathered and curtsied to them. "That's all folks!"

Once people got the okay, they were quick to go back to their conversations, now discussing what had unfolded. Music played up again and the world kept spinning.

Alex sat alone in his place on the couch. No girl, no chatting, no smile. When I looked at him, he looked at me. It didn't make me feel any better. I had wished for it the whole night and I finally got it and it was a look of pity.

"Do you need anything?" Matt asked me.

I looked at him and shook my head. Joanie pulled him back to their reserved seat.

Alex stood up and walked to me and I felt nervous. If some psychoanalyzing was to begin, I think I'd cry in front of the whole party. He lightly grabbed my elbow. I looked into his eyes, deciphering slowly what he must think of me. I was scared of every move he'd make. I wanted him to like me. I wanted to be the cool girl. I didn't want to cry. I didn't want to cry. "Do you want to go for a smoke with me?"

One of his hands tugged on my heartstrings, the other pushed me through the crowd by the small of my back. It was the most forward he had ever been but any intentions he had were unknown to me. 

Outside, he placed distance between us. Away from the large portion of the masses, we walked side-by-side. I followed him. He led the way. The stragglers that messed about the lawn must have annoyed him as he walked until he was away from the whole scene. In other instances of my life, I'd think the guy wanted a moment alone with me for a snog or shag. I thought Alex didn't want to be seen with me.

"We can sit if you want." He was polite in his voice and he gestured slowly to the bench in the house's decadent garden.

I sat first on one side and he sat on the other. He pulled his pack out and tossed me the lighter. He stuck one in his mouth, then handed me the pack. I felt like one of the boys and it made me laugh for some reason. I plucked one out like a lady, like my mother would. I lit my cigarette and when I went to light his, he took it out of my hand and did it himself. I felt stiff and awkward and that I must have grown a seventh head when I was in The Bahamas.

"You went to The Bahamas. Joanie said." He was taking slow drags of his cigarette and I was taking slow drags of him.

"Yeah." Maybe I was being evasive for enigmatic purposes. Maybe I was uncomfortable. I can't quite remember.

"How was it?"

I thought about lying. But I didn't see the purpose anymore. "Boring."

He chuckled light-heartedly. Everything is light-hearted. "Why?"

"I just sat on the beach all day. Maybe if I went with friends." I shrugged and pulled my legs up behind me on the bench.

"I'd like to travel," Alex told me.

"Where?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I'd like to do it more though. Like when I'm older, you know, that kind of thing."

I laid my head on my arms on the bench's backing. Ash collected on the end of my cigarette but I ignored it and looked at Alex. "We could go somewhere together."

"Really? Where do you wanna go?" His head was leaning against his hand. I felt we mirrored each other in some way that if I dug deeper then I would've known why.

"Away. Doesn't have to be far but I don't feel like myself here." I slipped. All those things I spent days pushing down, fell out mid-conversation with no remorse. I didn't care because I knew Alex wouldn't blab. He already knew everything about me. I wasn't revealing anything by saying this.

He didn't talk for a while. He sat with what I had said. Then he told me, "I don't think anyone feels like themselves at this age."

"Do you?"

He sat with that too. Then said, "I'm trying to."

I sat up straight. "I have an idea." Alex smiled at me and I felt wind sweep through me. "Why don't you act like your true self and I'll act like mine."

"I don't think I can do that."

He knocked something in me. "Why?"

He hid himself. He looked down at the slits in the bench. He bounced his foot. He tossed some idea in his head. Then, it spilled. "You make me nervous."

I was shocked by this. I found him intimidating. I got a boost in myself knowing he found me an equal representation. "Why's that?"

"I'm not good at telling people to fuck off."

I vowed, "I'll do it for you."

It wasn't a hit to him; a woman defending him. In fact, I think he got a kick out of it.

"Did you get into fights in The Bahamas?"

"Only with my family." 

"Do you get along?" He shifted forward like he had some actual interest in me. It was conflicting with every other interest I'd attracted from a man. It was a perked-up ear instead of a perked-up dick.

I shook my head. "No, not really. We kind of...I don't know. Things have never been great with my parents but getting older I've drifted more away. My siblings are a wild card."

"How many you have?"

"2 sisters, one older, one younger, and an older brother. I've never been close to the two older ones but Stacey, my younger sister's 11 so other than being annoying we get on well. You're an only child?"

His eyebrows raised, his eyes widened, and he looked as if I was some private detective. "You snoop me out, Jane?"

I took a drag of my cigarette and tried my best to look abject. "You act like an only child."

He looked affronted and on guard but had a toothy smile. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"All I'm saying is you never act like you had someone yelling over you at the dinner table. Only children fall into two categories: selfish or selfless. I'm assuming by your interest in me you must be pretty selfless."

Alex tilted his head from side to side. "I don't think so." 

I shook my head. 

"Eh! Why you doing that?" He chuckled.

I laughed at him. We were laughing together. "Take the compliment. My mother always says to say thank you for a compliment even if it's not true."

"Well, thank you and it's not true." 

Alex puffed away as I looked out into the garden. The gardener cut the bushes this morning and the flowers had reached their full bloom. I didn't move a muscle but I moved my eyes to look at him. He was small in both figure and persona. He didn't burst away. He sat quietly on the bench, smoked his cigarette, and looked at me. I was looking at flowers and he was looking at me. 

"I think it's true."

When our cigarettes had finished, we didn't go inside. Neither of us made a move and I decided that he must either like spending time with me or hate the party. We didn't talk after my comment and I didn't know what to say. I thought about teasing him. I thought about flirting with him. I thought about kissing him. 

Then, I decided to walk around the garden. He didn't move, he stayed nestled on the bench and watched me skim my hands along each petal. 

"They have tomatoes here!" I gasped.

Red, plump, and hanging heavily off the vine begging for plucking. Alex came up behind me looking at the lush beings. "I don't like tomatoes very much." He told me like it was some hushed secret, pinky promising not to tell a soul.

I gasped again. "How can you not love tomatoes?" I pulled one off the vine and took a bite of it. Nobody else seemed to be enjoying them due to the unruly way they grew and the surplus of numbers.

Alex, however, seemed to think I stole from a poor family living off the street, ignoring the mansion in the backdrop. "You eat it like an apple?"

I had tomato juice running down my cheeks and while I looked particularly gross, he didn't say anything. "I like them."

"You do indeed."

We walked around the garden, cluttered and looking like no one partook in its pleasures other than the man being paid to tidy it. The stone path led out of the garden into the large backyard, fit with trees and a birdbath. 

Alex walked with his hands in his pockets and I walked with mine holding each other behind my back, tomato in my left hand. "What have you done this summer?"

"Oh." He was shocked the conversation had turned to him. Do I really talk about myself that much? "Me and the band played around a little. Went to a few shows 'round here. Wasn't too big."

I almost didn't ask him but an unknown being tugged at me to ask, "Who was the girl you were talking to before? I recognized her." I had never seen that girl before in my life.

"Uh, Lauren? I went to Stocksbridge with her," Alex told me. "Joanie knew her somehow."

"Joanie knows everyone."

We were walking in circles now, rounding the house, but I didn't want to go back inside. I wanted our secret garden. "What'd you take from Claire?" He was watching me. He was watching me. He was watching me!

I giggled. "The Molly?" 

"You do that?"

I nodded.

"I've never done anything like that. You know, other than drinking."

We took a few more paces, rounding ourselves to the front of the house. "Do you want to?"

He shook his head. I felt embarrassed and ashamed like a mother had caught my nefarious habits. "You go clubbing a lot, right?"

I shrugged. I usually boasted about my nights out like it was a badge of honor for me. I felt he ripped the badge off. 

"Live music at those things?" Alex asked.

"Some," I answered.

"You think you'd be able to—I don't suppose you could. Maybe." He stuttered.

I giggled feeling at ease again. "Spit it out. I won't judge you. Well, unless you're about to bring up something gross."

Alex looked me in the eye as we stopped on the front lawn. He tapped his foot and dug his hands deeper into his pockets. "I thought maybe you'd be able to get us some gigs."

My lips slowly upturned. "I'd love that. I'll be your bookie."

He laughed. "Don't let power get to your head."

I tossed the tomato to the ground, citing that it was a gift to the rats that lived here and it would decompose just fine. I eyed the door but held no desire to reenter that world. I looked back at Alex, scuffing his trainer into the ground and swallowing whatever idea he wanted to say to me but didn't. I thought to ask but didn't.

"I think I'm gonna go home," I told him.

I got a borderline pathological level of joy when his face showed minor disappointment. He nodded and said, "Okay."

I wanted to prove him wrong. I didn't want to be the girl he talked to all night, and didn't take home, before chatting up some other girl. That's what I told myself but it probably wasn't the whole truth. Then, I realized, he was too nervous to ask me home with him. He was more occupied with his shoes and knew he'd have better luck dissecting my being than attempting to kiss me.  

So, I asked, "Do you want to come with me?" I didn't want to sleep with him, at least not explicitly. My intention was to, in some way, prove him wrong. In another way, the bigger consuming way, I wanted to talk to him more. "I don't live too far from here. We can walk. A girl really shouldn't walk alone at night."

Alex smiled suspiciously but nodded. "Shouldn't we say goodbye first?"

I furrowed my brows. "To a drunk Joanie who is probably too busy making out with Matt to care about either of us?"

He tilted his head. "Fair enough." He was a gentleman first and a teenage boy second.

"I got Joanie a shitty present anyway," I said as we began to walk away from the scene.

"I didn't even get her anything," Alex told me. "What you get her?"

"A snow globe from The Bahamas."

He burst out laughing, throwing his head back in express joy. He was contagious and I fell ill. "Does it even snow in The Bahamas?"

I shook my head through laughter. "I don't think so."

I don't know why he found it so funny that we had to stop walking. He was bent over laughing, holding his knees, and trying to catch his breath. I was laughing, more at him than the dumb snowglobe. I was infatuated. He was entrancing and I suffered from whatever his spell was. He stuffed himself into this laid-back body and busted through it with spoils of laughter. I thought about every joke I could make. I wanted to incite it more, force it out of him, have him tell me how funny I was. How I was the funniest girl he had ever met and he would like to stand by my side until my next joke. If that joke never came, he'd stay standing with me just in case it came.

Alex stood up slowly, exhaling loudly, collecting himself before we began our steps again. His face was red like I felt. On fire of sorts, lit ablaze by some force he beheld in no need of extinguishing. It was sudden and all at once, no stopping it.

When we reached my house, my father was out front in his car, which meant he and my mother were fighting. Often times my father would drive around but his car stayed parked and he was smoking a cigarette out the window. All the lights in the house were turned off, except the living room, which meant my mother was drinking.

My house wasn't unassuming by any means. It dwelled in comparison to Will's but I knew it loomed over most individuals. Sometimes, it loomed over me. 

As we headed up the front steps, my father yelled out to us, "Janie!" Everything was cold here. In this hot spell of summer, my skin turned goosey, and I prayed for a regular conversation with my father for Alex's sake. 

I turned and took two steps toward my father. Alex remained on the first step but watched us. My father gave us a look: a raised eyebrow, a tilted head, a shifting glance. A pit felt in my stomach and I thought he was going to send my Alex away. I had stolen him away from the party, from everyone, from Lauren, and he belonged to me unless my father smashed my plans all up. 

And then he yelled, "Tell your mother she's being a bitch!" 

A pit sank even further in me. My father never cared. I didn't utter a word and my father didn't wish me goodnight as he started the engine and Alex and I ducked into the house. Part of me wanted to do something nefarious with Alex to prove some point to my father. Another part thought I would be giving him too much.

Then Alex smiled at me and I didn't think my father's opinions and choices mattered much. It felt like my choice for something. Not something forced upon me or some vengeful decision.

I whispered to Alex to follow me up the stairs quickly as we dashed up. I didn't want to get hold of my mother who was clanking bottles around in the kitchen. I hoped Stacey was asleep through their whole fight. Likely, she had her ear on the door or worse was forced to witness and choose sides—something my mother made us do during fights. 

Alex and I ducked into my room. He seemed to get a kick out of it. "I feel like James Bond."

I rolled my eyes and flipped my light switch on. My room had acquired an extra messiness since I had yet to unpack from The Bahamas. I was too tired to care and Alex didn't mind. In fact, he seemed to get a kick out of it.

My walls were pink and covered with pictures from unknown drunken nights and childhood memories. Little trinkets I had collected over the years that no one knew the meaning of except me sat around across my room.

Alex picked up a plastic flower I had placed on my desk. He stayed taciturn.

"That's from my first boyfriend." I giggled. It seemed silly to talk about Tim. I felt dumb for keeping such a thing for so long but it was a sweet gesture and I took savouring to a near hurtful level.

He laughed too. "Oh." He put it down gently as if the fake petals would fall off any moment. "Holding on for safekeeping."

I folded my arms and leaned against my desk. "I hold on to everything. Too much."

Alex shook his head. "I don't think I do that enough. I wish I was more sentimental about things."

"Don't be. It's the worst fate you can have. You either become a hoarder or you become one of the people that think having something that reminds you of a person is an excuse not to talk to them."

Alex looked around on my shelves. Examining each item with detail. "Candy wrapper?"

"That's just trash."

We laughed and he moved onto the Madeline doll I had sitting on lopsided on my shelf. Likely last touched years ago. My mother had gotten the doll for me and I didn't want to talk about that. About how my mother or what used to be.

"Do you want to sit?" I gestured to my bed, a foot away from my desk.

He sat down and I didn't move. Our feet intersected but never touched. We were quiet and then Alex asked, "Did you write anything recently?"

I shielded myself and lied with a shake of my head. "I'm not a writer. I told you that."

He smirked. "I don't believe you. Come on." I shook my head and I watched as his eyes traced down to the open notebook on my desk. "What's that?"

"A book."

"What kind of book?"

"Notes from school."

"Why are you looking at notes from school over the summer?"

Before I had time to react, he launched himself toward the desk. I blocked the book with my body. He tried to swing around to try and grip it from the other side. I swayed my hips to prevent him. Soon it turned to a dance and soon Alex tried other efforts by tickling me. "Stop!" I squealed.

"Oh, come on, Jane!"

"No!"

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours." Such a typically salacious comment came off as charming and playful and my room filled with laughter. We reverberated through the house and sliced the silence. My house hadn't been that loud since Stacey was in the throes of the terrible twos. It was a delightful charm that a home should have.

I pushed his hands off of me. "Stop it. Stop it." I giggled uncontrollably. Alex laughed along and rested back on my bed. He leaned back onto his elbows. It oozed coolness and my body was burning alive from the inside out. 

"Eventually?"

"Eventually," I promised. I was too nervous to show anything to my peers. I took it deeply seriously and if somebody—somebody like Alex—told me it wasn't any good then everything would be for nothing. I would be a talentless loser and to show that to Alex, who viewed me in a revered spotlight, meant that I truly had no future. Nothing to escape Wakefield, my parents, or myself.

"What about your writing?" I asked him. I tempted fate and hopefully Alex by moving onto my bed. I lied on my stomach beside him, resting forward on my elbows.

"I don't know. I don't really think I'm any good." He gazed off, examining the room an inch at a time.

I was reminded of an off-handed comment. "Matt says you are."

"He's just being polite, you know." Alex played things off with ease. He never made a show of compliments, even truthful ones. I don't think he believed the good himself. He put on a show of things but never had a deep confidence. Everything was locked within himself too deep for even him to know it.

"I don't think so. He had nothing to gain by telling me," I said.

Alex faced me, eye to eye, closer than we'd ever been. "What did you think of them? Those ones at The Grapes."

He read me. The wheels turning in my mind trying to formulate a response. "Be honest, Jane," Alex urged.

I didn't want to discourage him. I liked some of it. They took you on a journey and fit the music. I sat up on my knees. "Well, they were good."

Alex threw his head back. "There no good, Jane, you can just say it, you know. Don't have to tiptoe 'round the whole thing."

I grabbed his hand, the one closest to me that was lying against my blanket. It was quick and unintentional, like some gut instinct. I held it tight. "No! I like them. You're a storyteller, Alex Turner."

"But?" He smiled at me, taking no offense to my critiques.

I bit my bottom lip to prevent my own wild grin. "But...they need some work. Which! Everything needs. Revising is key to any good written work." I jostled our shared hands unconsciously while speaking. Neither of us noticed. It was an attachment that made sense to be joined together.

"So what should I do? Employ the Hemingway method and write drunk, edit sober?" He joked.

I corrected him, "Hemingway never said that. That's from Reuben, Reuben. But that's beside the point." 

"Reuben, Reuben?" He questioned.

"Yeah, it's a Peter De Vries novel and movie with Tom Conti, but whatever—"

Alex cut me off, "What's it about?"

I scowled at him for interrupting me. "It's about this poet who has writer's block and drinks all day. It's pretty much about Dylan Thomas. Anyways—"

He ignored me again. "Is it any good?" He cocked a smile at me. He knew what he was doing getting me all riled up and irritated at the interruption. 

I pursed my lips at her and dropped his hand to shove him. "Shush!" Alex cackled, pleased by my annoyed attitude, and the way my nose puckered up. I watched as his hand slithered its way back to mine, grabbing hold of it. It was the first time I realized I had been holding his hand. I didn't say anything about it. Maybe he had done it unknowingly and I didn't want him to stop doing it. His palm was soft but held callouses on the edges and he fit just right.

"The whole 'writing drunk, editing sober' idea isn't actually bad," I told him.

Alex raised his eyebrows. "You want me to become Dylan Thomas?"

I giggled softly. "Not that exactly but why don't you go out and write about all the shite that happens 'round Sheffield. You know, like fools picking girls up in the air or Joanie's hideous spray tan."

He chuckled. "I mean, I've kind of done that. Ravey Ravey Ravey Club might be shite—"

I insisted. "I never said that!"

Alex eyed me suspiciously. "It might be shite but isn't that what it's about?"

"It's a try-hard song. You're an observer. I know you're not just sitting in the corner daydreaming. You watch."

A shit-eating grin spread across his face. I thought he had been struck with inspiration. That I'd given him a brilliant idea. One that would launch a thousand ships. Instead, he said, "You watching me, Janie?"

"Ugh!" I groaned. He erupted into laughter. He dropped my hand and fell onto my back beside him.

"Don't be embarrassed. Most writers are observers." I gave him a look translating to knock it off. "What do you see?" Alex asked me.

I tap my chin like I have to think about it. "You're shy and you sit in the corner most nights unless Matt or one of the guys is with you, then you stand next to them like you're their teddy bear or something." His laugh makes me laugh. "If you're in the corner, you're usually with a girl who you'll talk with all night but never kiss or leave with. It's very bizarre."

"Maybe I'm looking to take home the girl who is doing the robot—hey!" I punch his arm and he clutches it in exaggerated pain.

"You're a little too observant," I noted.

Alex explained, "You're very entertaining to watch."

"You make it sound like I'm a stripper."

I turned my head and his head was turned to look at mine. Inches apart, perfectly aligned, his eyes dashed across every inch of my face, while mine never strayed from his eyes. 

"If you want to kiss me, you can," I whispered to him. 

I wanted to kiss him but I wanted him to do it first. I wanted to take my time, not jump him. I wanted to handle him with care because I knew he would be with me and I'd never experienced that before. I only experienced rough and snapping touches. Alex would caress me and take me with ease. He would look for my permission at every step of the way. He would push my hair behind my ear and hold my head so delicately in his hands. He would kiss me slowly and tenderly. His hand would gradually rub my thigh before I told him to take my dress off. I could imagine his eyes widening at my boobs, braless and perky. I would shred my underwear because he'd be too nervous while he would take his shirt off. I wouldn't be rushed, it would be thought-out and delicate. For the first time in my life, it would be me who was cared for. He would tend to me, ask me what I wanted, and then do it. Do it perfectly. I would offer to do the same to him and he'd shake his head and say some other time. He would lie over me but it would be me in control. I'd call the shots and he'd accept them, he'd want to do them. He'd be slow until I told him to pick up the pace. We would end together and then he'd hold me. He'd hold me. In a loose manner that didn't strangle me. I would smile over at him and he would smile over at me. It would be the best thing I'd ever experienced.

"I don't want to do that with you, Jane." I hated him. He wrecked all my dreams and I realized he must be just as bad as every other guy. Will might have grabbed my ass too many times and collapsed over me dripping sweat before I even got started but Alex emotionally assaulted me. I never expected Will to care about me but Alex sat here and acted like he did. He got off on this. Getting girls' hopes up. I wonder if Lauren thought he was going home with her tonight. If she had planned an evening of fun after he laughed at her jokes and told her she was talented. He made me feel special but I was only a special dumb girl who revealed myself to him in vulnerable ways. He must laugh at this at home and cum in his pants at the thought of me crying when he leaves. It would be the worst thing I'd ever experienced.

I sat up quickly. I didn't look at him. My heart felt heavy and my eyes begged for me to let them blink but crying in front of him would be worse and giving him some sort of power. 

I heard Alex rustle behind me. I thought he was about to touch my shoulder, pretend to comfort me, and say he had to leave. I snapped around to look at him, propped up on his elbows again, looking confused. He should be some actor, not a damn singer.

"Are you gay?" I asked. I knew he wasn't. I wanted to shame him in some way. Like he wasn't some suave guy. He was some repressed homosexual.

He let out a snort. "What?" He played clueless perfectly.

It wasn't some playful anger I felt now. It was rage. Rage at him and the games men play and whatever this stupid act was. I thought about yelling at him but I think he wanted me to do that. I felt he loved that kind of thing. Extra ammo. 

I turned back around and the room fell silent. It was everything else that happened in this haunted house. It sucked every drop of joy out of everything.

"I shouldn't get involved with my bookie, you know." Alex laughed awkwardly. The way it came out, forced and choppy, cracked away at something in me. That hidden crevice in me that not everyone was out to get me.

"Yeah." I sighed and mustered something up in me to look at him. "Do I get paid for this bookie thing?"

"Well, I mean, the band isn't exactly making much money. Not really any."

"You can pay me in drinks." 

He grinned. "Sure."

I stuck my hand out for him to shake, completing the interview process. I sniffled and it was the worst thing I could have done because Alex's face flashed pain at the realization that I was hurt by him. I could've taken it as him not having ulterior motives but I chose not to. 

He shook my hand and I walked him out. I gave him my number and he gave me his but everything was done under the guise of business. I told him to get home okay but I didn't watch him walk away. I just went back inside and went to sleep.

*

A week and a half later, Alex and I set out to get the band gigs. I invited Claire to come with us, too terrified to be alone with Alex since my self-inflicted embarrassment. My reasoning—which was in part valid—being that Claire knew Sheffield way better than I did. Alex had a set of knowledge and a list of places he thought of, but he had the voice of a mouse and no boobs. 

Claire and I walked hip-to-hip, arms hugged around each other, and Alex trailed beside us. He was an excluded child not allowed in our sandbox. I felt awkward. Alex looked awkward. Claire didn't really give a shit. She's just had to pee.

"Ooh!" Claire cheered. "Let's stop in The Boardwalk. I can pee and then we'll ask them for a gig or whatever. I know that bar guy. Joshua. Jane knows who I'm talking about." She was talking a mile a minute and definitely on something.

The moment we stepped foot in the bar, Claire ditched for the bathroom. Alex and I were left alone. I hated myself for making it awkward, a thing I seem to still have a commitment to doing.

"Do you want to sit?" Alex offered a barstool.

We sat beside one another and I placed my bag on the one beside me to save for Claire. I couldn't think of a single thing to say to him. It felt more practical to sit in silence. Take in the ambiance of the bar. Everything felt caught in my throat, or rather, caught in my head as I couldn't think of a single thing. I resigned to not make eye contact with him. He resigned to do the exact opposite.

"Why'd you bring Claire?" Alex asked me.

"She knows Sheffield better."

He scoffed. "I know Sheffield. I didn't ask Claire. I asked you."

"I'm still here." That's not what he meant and I knew it but denial is the key genetic trait subjected to every Cavendish. 

My eyes looked down at the floor. It felt uneasy and ill-fitting but, to me, it was better than looking at his eyes. Alex tilted his head down, trying to look at me. "Is this summat to do with the kiss thing?"

I answered with a "very" convincing performance of "I don't give a shit" by saying, "Pft, no way. Don't flatter yourself." It was mean and said with bitterness but I was too down on myself to be nice.

When I looked at him, his eyes were cold and uninviting, he turned away and looked at Claire as she came skipping back over. My insides twisted in on themselves at the way he smiled at her and it felt ruthless. I reminded myself that he turned me down so if he went for some other girl, I never stood much of a chance. But if he went out with Claire I'd probably kill myself.

"Right, shall we give it a try?" Claire asked us. We both silently nodded. Claire stuck her hand in between Alex and me and tapped insistently on the bar. "Excuse me!"

A man came over, dragging his feet, and it felt obvious that we were a bunch of underaged kids. But he responded, "Yes?"

"Is Joshua here?" Claire asked.

The man began to snicker. "Joshua got canned because he was giving liquor to a bunch of underage girls."

Claire's smile dropped. She attempted to recover steadily but her reaction told her story for her, despite what she proceeded to lie about. "That's unfortunate." She sounded just like her mother. "Well, we'd like to speak to someone about getting a gig here."

The man shook his head. "No can do if you're minors, I'd like to keep my job."

Claire giggled. "I'm smitten"—Alex and I both shared a look with one another and chuckled at the word usage, softening our cold war—"that you'd think I was so young. You're very kind."

"Nice try. I let you use the bathroom but you're not getting much further." 

Claire rolled her eyes. "It's just a gig."

The man fought back. "I've got nappies to buy. Shoo."

"Don't shoo me!" Claire was growing feisty and that meant a business that no one wanted to witness. She was pounding and loud and usually not forgiven.

I grabbed a hold of her arm and dragged her back. "We'll leave," I told the man.

When we exited, The Boardwalk, Claire sighed loudly. "Sorry. That fucking idiot Joshua probably fed some 12-year-old. I've had no issues before!"

I laughed at her dramatics. "It's fine, Claire."

She sighed again. "I hate to leave you guys but Reg called while I was in the bathroom and I forgot I had a shift at work."

I panicked. "So, you have to leave?" My eyes were wide and I was not winning any awards for my acting. I was rigid and displayed raised eyebrows.

Claire frowned. "Sorry and since I'm not getting paid for this I can't quit my day job. I'll call you tomorrow, J." She hugged me tight and waved at Alex. "See ya, Al."

Alex waved back and Claire dashed down Bank Street. We were left alone and I debated turning away from him but I had agreed to give him a ride home. "Sorry," I mumbled to him.

He shrugged. "I assume we're done then."

I digested a pit into my stomach and there wasn't much I could do. I didn't want to hang around him but I felt I let him down more by coming up empty-handed. I nodded and he set off toward the car.

I walked three steps behind him. I didn't bother to catch up. There wasn't much point since I didn't know what to say to him. He didn't turn back to check if I was still behind him. The clicking of my shoes was enough of any indicator. 

About a block away, he stopped. I slowed my walking until I was beside him. "What's wrong?" I asked. He was frozen, with no motion, and I worried for him.

Alex hesitantly turned his head to look at me. "You are a terrible bookie." I laughed and then kept walking.

He cracked through our tension and left me standing on the corner of Queen Street. I chased him down while wracked with giggles. When I caught up to him, I told him, "A bookie is someone who takes bets for sports. I think you wanted a booker and I got confused."

Alex grinned and reached the passenger side. We got on much better on the way back to his house than on the ride down the City Centre.

When we reached his house, I apologized for the bad job I'd done. He shook his head. "It's fine. We probably need more time to practice anyway."

"I'll get you a gig. I swear. I'd never pass up free drinks."

Alex laughed and thanked me anyway. He waved goodbye to me as he unlocked his front door. I pulled away about 5 minutes into my drive I realized I had gone the wrong way. I was headed south toward the City Centre. I decided my misdirection was giving me a sign and I drove back to The Boardwalk.

I snuck in and the same man was at the bar. Trying my luck and hoping he didn't notice me behind Claire, I approached him. "Is there someone I can talk to about booking a gig?"

His eyes peered up and his look wasn't welcoming. "Determined."

I smiled because charm was going to be the only way this worked out. "I've got a job."

He raised his eyebrow. "This band has minors. I don't think the boss is gonna like that."

"What if I could promise you a crowd?" I asked him.

"A crowd of minors?"

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "No." There totally would be but ask for forgiveness, not permission. "A promise of a crowd of legal paying customers and that no minors will be drinking. Swear."

He hesitated. His eyes moved up and down my body, before he said, "I'll ask."

I smiled pleased but demanded, "Now." I was rarely authoritative, especially around strangers, but I felt that I had to do this. I couldn't imagine disappointing Alex. I had a job to do.

He smirked. "Fine. If you'll come out with me tomorrow."

It was probably some form of prostitution but I didn't care much about my body. It was a tool for me and if I had to use it to get ahead in this, then so be it. I had little regard for myself. I convinced myself that I somehow had the power in these situations.

Later that night, I knocked on Alex's house. When his mother answered, I felt nervous like meeting my boyfriend's mother for the first time. She smiled and when I asked for Alex she called out for him with the promise there was a pretty girl at the door for him.

He came to the door the same as I dropped him off. His eyebrows furrowed. "You okay? Your car okay?"

I couldn't hide the grin on my face. It was unstoppable, wide, cheek-aching. I almost jumped up and down in front of him. "You have a gig at The Boardwalk on August 14."

Frank and I went out the following night. It was nice enough for us to start dating in a sloppy manner. I got free drinks, too, even if I was still 17.

*

On the night of August 14, I sat at the bar while Frank tended it. With the promise of action at the night's end, he fed me as many drinks as I ordered, no payment required. Besides the blowjobs, I suppose. My opinion on the Monkeys didn't shift much when they took to the stage. Their setlist was similar to their night at The Grapes, besides a new cover. 

My job as booker was done and I was more focused on my glass and Frank's hands. Joanie was attentive enough for both of us. She stood at the stage's edge and jumped around. I upheld my promise of a crowd, even if most of them weren't focused much on the music and definitely not minors. 

When their set had come to an end, they came around to the bar about 20 minutes later. Still sweaty and hair hand-run-through. Matt was the first one to appear, saying, "I knew we could trust J.R. Cavendish."

I scrunched up my brows. "How do you know about my middle name?"

"How you think?" His head gestured to Joanie, still dancing around. "I think we should keep you on."

Frank came behind me. He was no longer behind the bar and his arms around me made me jump. "Well, I certainly had fun, but that was more from Jane though you lads."

My body was rigid. I wasn't a fan of this affectionate public display. I wasn't a fan of doing it in front of any of the Monkeys, but Alex's eyes darting around in confusion made me feel even more stiff in both body and mind. 

I tapped Frank's arm. His hold only tightened. "You can thank Frank for the gig," I told them.

"Oh, Joanie told me 'bout this. New boyfriend," Matt teased me. Alex had snapped over to Matt and the instant pleasure—the endorphins that flooded my system—was the biggest high I had ever experienced.

Frank relinquished his hold on me and took two steps back. "Well, I don't know anything about that." He snickered and my high crashed. "Don't get any ideas, Jane."

I didn't care for Frank ever. I was never in love with him. I, like him, was just getting my fill of things. But the way he snickered, it wrapped around me and constricted me. I was numb to this. I had been numb to this for so long. Even if I was mad at Alex, or embarrassed, he never made me feel insignificant. I felt interesting and important, even if he confused me more than anything I'd ever encountered. 

The Franks and the Wills of the world had tortured me for extensive periods that didn't feel significant. It didn't feel significant when the first one of them treated me this way because I was my mother. Simple as that.

It felt significant to share a thought and that thought be appreciated.

"Don't worry, I don't like slumming," I told Frank. I grabbed my purse and left, too drunk to drive, too early to go home, too filled with remorse and anger to ask for help.

I walked two blocks, no tears because Frank didn't deserve tears, I deserve tears. I deserved a weeping apology from every fucking loser guy who had come near me. I didn't know what to do with the hole growing in my stomach. The black hole that was coming for my heart. I was once a sensitive child. I'm a sentimental being. So, why did every relationship mean nothing? Why was I hoarding fake roses from Tim Hoardecker for nearly a decade but never cared for real flowers from all those stupid boyfriends? How much of a loser was I that my best relationship was one that lasted a week at summer camp when I was 10?

*

School began and I shielded myself from much of my former world. I hadn't heard from Joanie since The Boardwalk. I didn't care much. Rosie was with Will and Joanie was with Matt, secluded away, so I ate lunch with Claire and AB. They were the sanest anyway. I had known Claire since primary school, much like Joanie, but we'd never been close like Joanie and I were. Claire and I only grew in our bond in college while Joanie's and I's bond diminished.

Claire was the closest thing to a model I had ever witnessed with my own eyes, despite what my mother insisted about her past lives as an "actress," "model," and beauty queen (the only one that had been confirmed due to the tiara she displayed on the mantle). She was kissed by the Sun, blonde, and what I imagine every Viking in the village fought over for a chance to look at her.

AB was brunette and always looked like he had been in a fight, even though he couldn't kill a fly. He was the sweetest guy I'd ever known and girls prayed at night that they could marry him. I hoped, after all the jerks I'd end up with a guy like AB. I never attempted anything with AB because I was an immature rascal who was at least smart enough to not ruin a guy like that.

I heard through AB that the Monkeys had a concert at The Pheasant. None of us went. Sheffield was too far for any of us to drive and AB was sick of hanging out with a bunch of drunks. Claire and I had a sleepover instead, which I can confirm was much better because her mom's cooking is made by angels.

But after intentionally avoiding Alex for a month, I ran into him on campus grounds one day. On a walk between class and the parking lot, he snuck up behind me in a way usually reserved for kidnappers and murderers. "Hey, Jane C."

I, obviously terrified, shrieked and nearly tripped over my feet over each other. He rested his hands on my shoulders to steady me. I hit him with my textbook, a brick and loaded nonsense. "Alex Turner, you don't sneak up on women."

I kept walking and he kept in step with me. "I haven't seen you in a while. You quittin' on me?" Something had changed about him. His appearance was much of the same, except he was bundled up in a cheap tracky jacket. We contrasted each other in too many ways, I thought. I was a snob but not in an extreme fashion. The only thing I turned my nose up at was clothes. My coat was wool and lined with buttons. I hadn't worn a jacket with a zipper on it since the one week my mum allowed me to play football. I was charmed by it. It wasn't in some rich girl pity kind of way. Plenty of rich losers wore tracksuits, including my mother, but they weren't as cute as a button in them. 

"I wasn't aware I was still on retainer. Not like you need my help much anyway. I heard about The Pheasant gig."

Alex chuckled. "Yeah, that nobody came to. We played The Boardwalk again too. Not so much fun when there's nobody there."

"Well, I'm sure your luck will change." We'd reached my car and I wasn't trying to force him away but I was eager to get home and the wind chill was some of the harshest I've experienced.

"I wanted to talk to you about that." I had to resist an eye roll because I was making it a goal of mine not to be off-putting to people when they were being nice. It was going okay.

I looked up at him. He was on the opposite side of the car. Almost like he knew I was going to invite him into my car. I raised an eyebrow, silently urging him to explain. Instead, he slid a notebook across the roof of my car. 

I grabbed it before it flew to the ground. He had bookmarked a page. "Don't be snoopy and read other shite that's in there."

I furrowed my brows, looking at the scratches across the page. I was unsure what to make of it. The writings looked more like his notes for psychology than "It's a song," as he said.

I held my thumb down on the page and squinted as the wind rattled the pages. It became impossible to read and I looked up at the anxiety written on his face. I was pretty good at reading him too. 

We escaped the wind in my car and I was finally able to read through it. I dissected it in an eager manner. Noting the way it flowed and how vulnerable Alex had been to show it to me. His leg bounced, he tapped his fingers on his thigh and refused to make eye contact with me.

"Bigger Boys and Stolen Sweethearts," I read aloud. I looked up at him. His body leaning away from me, his head resting on his left hand balanced on the door. His hand framed around his face, covering his chin and cheek, shielding himself, as best he could. 

"Who's it about?" I asked. Please be me. He's a boy and he takes time to get it right but he's got it right and this song is an offering that he wants me back. It wasn't the most flattering song for a girl. He says the girl is "pretty fucking far from nice" and I was still young enough to not take offense to those kinds of things.

"How do you know it's about someone?" He questioned.

I shrugged like his lyrics didn't read as some obvious figure, even if he was talking in the 3rd person.

"That Lauren I ran into at Joan's party." Now 17-year-old me, felt this was an attack. Like Lauren was out to get me. A Lauren that I'd never met and would never meet. She was the obstacle preventing me from being the subject of the song. "I'd written this one a while ago. The advice you gave me, I went back and combed through some old ones lying about."

I pushed my anger to the back of my mind. I focused too much on what I didn't have in those days. Not the fact that Alex wrote something and thought of showing it to me first. I was the first second pair of eyes. I couldn't appreciate things, no matter how much I should've and wished I had.

My silence was irking him. He leaned over the console. Alex tried to decipher what part I was reading. My eyes darted across the small page too much for him to figure out. "What'd you think?"

Alex has never been good at believing in anyone's joy. You'd have to wrangle pride out of him and he'd doubt your belief in him no matter to constant reassurance. For the majority of people, it could be misconstrued as fishing for compliments or would become rapidly annoying. I never minded because I have always been the same way. It was a shared vulnerability. 

"I like it," I earnestly told him.

He shook his head. "You don't have to placate me, Jane." For Christ's sake, he was a teenage boy who used the word placate, I don't know why he thought he was some idiot. 

"I honestly do. I only have a few notes but they're small and you must think it's good too or you wouldn't show me."

Alex slowly smiled and then laughed. He was pleased with himself. It was his version of puffing his chest out. "Maybe."

"I think so and I have great taste. Well, in some things," I corrected myself. "Why don't you write it in first person?" I suggested.

"I like it in third," Alex said.

"You like hiding behind a character."

He gave me a pointed look. I had caught him in the act. I had given him the Alex treatment. It wasn't intentional. It was an easy thing for me to discern and I wasn't judging him. After months of languishing over it, I realized that if Alex did this to me, then it must have been instinct, not judgment. 

I told him, "We all do. Don't worry. That's what being a writer is."

"What would you know about being a writer, Jane?" Alex was teasing and flirtatious. He could switch between innocence and naughty ways in a quick compelling method that only made him increasingly attractive.

I bit my bottom lip to prevent the upturn of my lips and if I wasn't scared of being turned away again, I think I would've kissed him. "I have some experience." I had yet to admit it to myself before I told Alex about it. It seemed fitting that he would be the first to know before I even knew.

He grinned and I figured Alex only felt pride in two ways, a hidden, buried-in-his-ribcage pride and proving-me-wrong pride, which usually ended up meaning pride in me.

*

a/n: so...this is the first part...i hope you like it...more to come whether you like it or not because i'm already too invested in this. okay, thanks for reading!

[snufflescribbles]

the bear is probably one of the best uses of show vs tell i have seen

it's constantly hammered to the audience that claire is good for carmy , that she's perfect, that he shouldn't fuck this up

but we never really see it

because we aren't meant to, we are meant to be at the kitchen in the restaurant and that's where we think carmy is supposed to be as well

claire is meant to be off, she's meant to ring alarm bells

i love it

[delphi-shield]

pity party // claire redfield

Claire x Reader Smut wc: 2180 mdni - 18+ i got a new job!! anyway. claire. rewrote this twice bc i couldn't decide where i wanted them to fuck tbh. in my heart this is older!claire, but you can read it literally however you want. not proofread.

summary: Being Claire's plus one to her work party only dredges up old insecurities.

content: afab reader, fem reader, fingering, squirting, jealousy & insecurity re: cheating, public sex, alcohol ment. & use, claire's unnamed ex

This party fucking sucks.

You’re overdressed, embarrassed, still fighting off the chill from an unexpected motorcycle ride. Claire had told you she would pick you up. She just forgot to mention it would be on her bike. She had also forgotten to mention that this work party was super casual.

Claire had laughed when you opened the door to greet her, quickly assuring you that you looked great before you had the chance to crawl into your skin and die -- it just wasn't that sort of party. You must have looked like some sort of kicked puppy, because she’d laid the compliments on thick. Deflated, you'd offered to change, but there just wasn't enough time, and it would look bad if she was late – a whole slew of excuses. Heels and all, you had clambered onto Claire's bike.

You’d felt like an idiot, click-clacking after her in your heels and your pretty dress, being introduced to Claire’s friends and coworkers rapid-fire. You can't keep names and faces straight, but they look right past you and focus on Claire. Can't say you blame them for that.

 It's a casual party, all right. Way, way casual. You look at odds holding your red solo cup in your pretty dress and your once shiny (now scuffed) heels, like a period actor with a cell phone. You don't know any of these people, and they're all clamoring for Claire's attention. You’d figured out pretty quickly that it was going to be difficult to pull her away from the center of things and resign yourself to the drink table. If she was your ride, you were at least going to take the chance to get hammered and forget that you looked like a dolled up tart.

Despite all the rancid ‘don’t talk to me, I’m drowning my sorrows and this is not a group activity’ vibes you keep putting off, a mousy woman who seems equally intent on getting plastered has taken up the spot next to you, going two drinks to your one. You miss her name in the deluge of information that she rattles off, but catch her job description. Office manager - seems about right. It doesn't take long for her to drift into gossip.

Most of it is banal. Your eyes search for Claire in the crowd and find her leaned against a bar top, talking to an unfamiliar face. They're all unfamiliar, sure, but Claire hadn't introduced you to this one. They lay a hand on Claire's arm, let it slide down slow - hold her for a moment. Your eyes narrow.

"What's up with that?" You gesture towards your girlfriend with your beer, bitterness soaking your words. Either your companion is too steeped in alcohol to pick it up, or she's savoring this drama herself.

"Oh - yeah, they used to have a thing. Like, way before they started working together, so it's all like, ethically above board, and --"

The woman keeps talking even though you're not hearing a goddamn word anymore. You nod along politely, tight smile pulling your face taut. Your eyes never leave Claire and who you now know to be her ex. Ex what, you don’t know. Maybe it was serious, maybe it wasn't. Doesn’t matter. They're an ex something. Currently, though, very close. Too close. Brushing Claire’s hair from her face - yeah, actually, you know what, fuck this.

Fuck this so hard. You’d walk home.

You chunk your drink into the trash and teeter away unsteadily for the bathroom. You’re too wrapped up in your own misery to have seen Claire push her ex’s hand away, or to see her look your way - you hear her raise her voice, but shut it out quickly behind the flimsy bathroom door before you can parse her words.

Stupid fucking party. Stupid fucking girlfriend and her magnetic presence, and her pretty smile that draws everyone in. You splash cold water in your face, trying to come to your senses. Barely two beers in and you’re acting like an idiot.

You don’t hear her slip in the door. She doesn’t knock - why would she. Claire drapes herself over your back, her arms slipping around your waist loosely. You jump, knock your head against her chin and leave her swearing, muttering jesus, hun, it’s just me, before she melts into a chuckle. Her hand rubs at your head, soothes you instead of herself.

“You okay?” She asks, as if she doesn’t already know the answer.

“Yeah.”

Claire’s generous. She gives you a whole, agonizingly slow five seconds to retract that before she calls you on it.

“Okay. Because you kinda stormed off.”

She’s not just generous, you realize, she’s cautious. Like she knows you’re spring-loaded and ready to snap. That only makes you grit your teeth.

“Yeah, well, I’m just kind of over this.”

“The party? We just got here–”

“And you’re already getting real comfortable,” you snap, spinning in her arms to face her. It’s hard to miss the accusation, even if it’s not outright. Claire’s mouth thins into a hard line.

You can see her working through it all. The uncharitable part of you thinks she’s coming up with some excuse, some way to worm her way out of this. She takes a slow, deep breath.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay, look, if this is about her– we work together, hun. I can’t just avoid her.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to get close.”

“I’m not, babe, I’m –”

Claire stops herself. A hand leaves your waist to pinch at the bridge of her nose. Another deep, steadying breath. You turn away from her again, back to face the sink. The silence chokes you, makes angry tears spring to your eyes. 

Her hand slides up your thigh, following the curve of your body up towards the apex of your thigh. You push at her wrist. She’s trying to switch tactics, and you’re having none of it.

“Claire–”

“Let me apologize. Okay? I’m sorry for dragging you to this party. I’m sorry I sprung all this on you. And I’m very sorry for not warning you about my ex.”

Your jaw clenches. You shouldn't let her do this. Being with her is like training a dog - consistency is key. She’ll take the inch and the mile then come back asking for more. You’ve already embarrassed yourself at this party. If you get caught like this, your life is so over.

But Claire litters kisses against your skin, whispers please so sweetly in your ear. Her fingers slip beneath your top, graze against your belly in a way that makes your stomach flip and your nipples tighten.

“I want a proper apology and a proper talk,” you say. Your hands grip the counter tightly. You watch her in the mirror, see her face fall and her eyes darken. She sighs against your neck, her shoulders sagging against you. “After you're done.”

It’s like you flipped a lightswitch. Claire’s smile brightens immediately, ignites a hungry spark in her eyes. She drops a kiss against your shoulder, drags her nose along the curve of your neck. Her hair falls against your neck. The bright, summery scent of her perfume envelops you and coaxes you back against her, her hands roving leisurely against your side, your stomach, your hips. She never needed much of an invitation to explore you.

Your eyes are locked on the mirror, watching the door for any sign of movement. The pleasure building in the pit of your stomach barely outweighs the prickle of anxiety that blankets your skin.

Her lips press against your neck. She's well-behaved until your head lolls to the side, your anxiety smoothed into a pleasant tingle by her kisses

“Relax,” Claire whispers, voice cloying. On her best behavior.

Your brow furrows. You have half a mind to pull away, tell her this is a stupid idea, that she’ll get in so much trouble if someone walks in. Her thumb brushes over your clit through your panties. You whine In the back of your throat, a pathetic, needy sound that makes Claire press a laugh into your hair. She shushes you, almost sounds gleeful about it - bet she’s real proud of herself for that one.

Fuck. Now you're mad at yourself.

“Hurry up,” you mumble. She’d make this last the rest of the party if you let her. Keep you trapped away in this bathroom til you’re sore and chafed.

Claire laughs. Low and soft, right next to your ear. Her thumb rolls over your clit again and again. It's hard to tell which is making you drip more. Her hand finally slips beneath the fabric to touch you for real, long fingers parting your lips.She stays just shy of where you want her, fingers spreading to rub the sides of your clit at the last possible moment, taunting you with the promise of direct contact, of the pad of her finger rolling against you again and again.

“I could do this for hours.” She purrs. Her teeth nip at your neck. She sucks a mark onto your skin, her tongue laving over the spot again and again to seal it in, make sure it takes. She finally gives you what you want. Your hips jut against her hand, chasing more touch, more feeling.

“They’re gonna see,” you whine, wiggling in her grip. You just know she’s get the blood flush to the top, a mark that will take a week to fade.

“Good.”

Heat soaks through you. She presses a finger into your needy hole, crowding you over the sink and bending you to the angle she needs, the angle she knows is best for ripping orgasm after orgasm out of you. You keen, poor little thing, and she joins another finger to your core, grinding the meat of her palm against your clit, and drumming a harsh pace. It’s so easy to move you where she wants you. You’re so malleable beneath her hands, the deceptive strength that guides you where you need to be, where she wants you. Rocking against her rhythm is pointless. You fall out of step quickly, unable to do more than try to keep your knees from buckling while her fingers drill into your cunt.

Her other hand slides up your body, squeezing handfuls of your tummy along the way. It's far from worshipful. The way she grips you, tugs you back into her with each pull - it's obsessive.

Her palm flattens to slip into the valley between your breasts. She spreads her fingers tantalizingly slow. She paws at your breast, feather-light and teasing for all of five seconds before she gives in and squeezes. Patience has never been her virtue.

“Did you get jealous, baby?” she coos, taunting. Her fingers hit against you just right, no gentle massaging, no torturous pull of pleasure - just the electric feeling lighting through your veins and the sloppy noise you can hardly believe is coming from your own body.

“Mmhmm,” you whine, your eyes squeezing shut tightly. Claire squeezes your other tit, rougher than the first and Jesus Christ, when you manage to open your eyes for two seconds and catch your reflection in the mirror you realize you’re drooling, a quickly cooling trail down your chin.

“I'm three knuckles deep in your pussy and you’re still thinking about my ex?” Her fingers curl the moment you open your mouth, massaging that spot that sets a bomb off in your core, floods your limbs with mind-numbing sensation. You rock back into her, toes curling, thighs caving inwards and trapping her arm in a plush prison. 

You snap in her hands, hot, wet rush soaking Claire’s fingers and the rug tangled up between your feet. Claire slips her tongue into your mouth and drinks down every noise you make, her kiss bruising and her fingers still drilling into your cunt, her eyes locked onto the mirror, savoring every reaction she rips from you.

You have to push at her wrist again to get her to withdraw. She’d keep doing this if you let her, you know she would. It’s her turn to whine and pout. She winds her hand up over your shoulder just to suck her fingers clean.

“Unbelievable,” you breathe out. The noises she’s making are obscene, slurping your taste off of her digits in a way that makes your stomach flip all over again, clit throbbing for more attention.

“Right?” she agrees, cheeky little grin making her look younger. “That was like record speed for me. I could have taken way longer. Really drawn it out.”

You snort. The look you level her with must be pretty damn serious, because she doesn’t keep rambling. 

You can’t stop staring at the dark, wet patch you’ve left on the bathmat. Your brow furrows. Claire follows your eyes, trying to see what the matter is. She points to herself. You shake your head. She looks behind her, shrugs, can’t quite figure out what the matter is.

“Made a mess,” you mumble, embarrassment lacing your tone. You nudge at the edge of the mat with your toe. “They’re gonna know.”

Claire rolls her eyes. She flips the sink on, cups water in her hands, and slings it onto the same bathmat you had just squirted all over.

“There,” she says, more exasperated than accomplished. “See? Totally normal. It’s a bathroom. Things get wet in bathrooms. Like you.”

But it’s hard to be enamored with the way she looks on her knees for you when you can’t stop staring at the dark, wet patch you’ve left on the bathmat. Your brow furrows. Claire follows your eyes, trying to see what the matter is. She points to herself. You shake your head. She looks behind her, shrugs, can’t quite figure out what the matter is.

She sets her hands on your hips, turning you to face her. Claire guides your panties up your legs, sets them back in place for you. You smile, affection blooming in your chest. Such a lady, after everything.

Or maybe you’ve spoken too soon, because she makes a point to kiss your clit through your panties before she pulls your dress back down.

[leonskennedysfavoritewife]

Sobriety - DILF! Leon Kennedy x female!Reader

Word Count: 4k PART 2

MINORS DNI! 18+

Warnings! Mentions of Alcoholism, Masturbation, Pillow Riding, Sex, Praise Kink, Age-Gap relationship, Depressive themes.

Others: No use of Y/N, After-Care, Leon being unable to take hints.

(Loosely based on a JAI bot by BBSUSHI)

Another night. Another bottle. Or two. Or more.

The same old routine for Leon Kennedy. Sure- he knew his liver would be fucked at some point. Though, he didn’t give a shit after everything. It was either die from excessive drinking or get killed by some mutated B.O.W. from hell- another frightening creature to add to his collection of nightmares.

Leon groaned- trying to not think about any of it- after all- that’s what the liquor was supposed to be doing. He was currently sprawled lazily on his chair, the TV playing some crappy rerun of a show he didn’t even watch- just had on for the background noise and company- until… there was a knock.

Who the fuck is bothering at this hour?

He had grumbled to himself, swaying as he stood up. It took everything in him not to crash into the glass coffee table or any other delicate furniture. He reached for his gun, tucked into a drawer of the entrance table. He squinted, blurred vision through the peephole, but couldn’t see straight enough to tell who it was.

His mind raced with thoughts. Maybe it was someone from Umbrella come to finally kill him- or maybe Claire and Chris wanting to drag him to another bullshit AA meeting. Or maybe a fellow agent coming to tell him he’s needed for one more grueling, back breaking mission.

He pushed any morbid thoughts aside- hand undoing the chain on the door and fumbling for the door in record time- swinging it open with the gun pressed to the other side just in case- which might be a terrible idea while plastered, but whatever.

“What the hell do you wan-“ he started, his voice catching in his throat. Stood in front of him was a young woman- probably young enough to be his daughter- if he had ever been able to have children. He lowered the gun from its place- storing it into the back of his sweatpant’s waistband for now.

The girl was pretty- no- more than just pretty, gorgeous even. He shook his head, mumbling what sounded like a possible drunken apology.

You, however, spoke up loud and clear-but equally apologetic in nature.

“I’m so sorry- I just moved in and I figured I’d go around introducing myself to my neighbors. I’m throwing a little moving-in-celebration tomorrow and wanted to invite everyone on this floor.” 

Leon raised an eyebrow, scoffing.

“A celebration, huh? Look- don’t you know how dangerous it is inviting strangers into your home?...” he muttered- his tone rude from him being hammered and -too stubborn to apologize for the drunken outburst when he had answered the door moments ago. He would blame this on his raging migraine later. 

You crossed your arms, a little defensive but able to tell whatever he had going on was letting his frustration take over. You were perceptive enough to know that much- along with the fragrant smell of whiskey emanating from him.

“Well- sure. If you’d like to be pessimistic, I guess. Either way.. you’re welcome to come. It’s apartment G7. Show up any time from five o’clock to around seven’ish.” You were swift to turn on your heel- leaving him without a retort. He bit his tongue, closing the door. Hard. It made him angry- of course he was pessimistic. Most people would be too if they dealt with half the shit that he had, but he decided he wouldn’t possibly expect some oblivious young person to know that.

He slumped back onto his chair, tossing the gun from his waistband aside and grumbling. 

The next afternoon, he woke up in a sweaty pool as usual- night terrors along with the tossing and turning were to blame.

His mind came to- a drunken haze flooding into his consciousness from the night before. He was feeling his much nicer self now- regretting the encounter from last night. Your pretty face. Your invitation. Shit. He didn’t even know if he remembered what apartment number you had told him. Whatever- he could figure that out on his own. 

Fucking idiot. He told himself, climbing from the sheets and uncoordinatedly walking to the bathroom- disoriented. Once inside, he planted his hands on the edge of the sink for support- looking in the mirror.

Crows feet. Laugh lines. A few grey strands in his brown hair- which was once a shimmering blonde…

He started to wonder when the fuck he began looking like this- and why the hell you would still be nice to someone as old and grumpy as him- even after he decided to be an ass. Thinking about your face- beautiful and youthful… brought him back to his own for a moment.

Save it. No chick wants a middle aged alcoholic in their life. Not one that looks like.. this. Or has more baggage than an airport.

Either way- part of him wanted to not show up to your little rendezvous- but the other decided he would probably regret it more. He needed to get out of the house and stop ruining his reputation in the building. After all- people were tired of hearing his drunken stumbling in the apartment- and maintenance was tired of coming to fix holes in the wall- amongst other broken things. Hell, the only reason he hasn’t been fucked out of his lease is because of his job’s connections. But maybe- just maybe- showing up would salvage something.

Leon runs a calloused hand over his stubble, debating on whether or not he should shave. 

What’s the point- I look fucking old either way.

He skips the maintenance- deciding he’ll get to it for a special occasion. Whether it’s an important, work-related meeting or a dinner at the White House.

After a lengthy shower- where he ran out his hot water from standing and sulking- he decided to skip the bottle today. The last thing he needed was to show up to this little ‘get together’ drunk and make a scene- being the unstable, quick-to-anger type of drunk.

Seeing as how it’s already 3 in the afternoon, Leon went ahead and dressed himself. Blue button down. Jeans. Leather jacket. Boots. Not much different from what he’d wear every day- but he put just a hint more effort into it today- given the spritz of cologne and freshly showered state. Eventually- it’s a little past five. Leon somehow remembered that you didn’t give a specific time- only a few hours of a frame. He stepped into the floor’s hallway, immediately hearing chatter and banter of all kinds from the left side of the hallway.

He sucked in a breath, making his way to where the commotion emanated, and firmly knocking on the door. 

Why the fuck did I show up, I shouldn’t have-

The door swung open- your face quickly lighting up as you saw he had made it.

“Hey, neighbor. Glad you decided to show up.” You beamed, opening the door a little wider.

Jesus Christ, her smile. I can’t remember the last time anyone had that reaction to seeing me. Whatever- it’s only formality.

Leon wanted to smile back- but the insecurity returned- leaving him to give a half-assed smile, nodding, and stepping inside.

There were a good few other people inside- chatting and snacking on the few trays of food you had set out, surely enjoying themselves. Your apartment was nice, clean cut, yet already so lived in despite you having just moved in.

“Can I get you anything?” You asked- breaking him from his observations.

“Uh- yeah. Just some water.” He acknowledged you- his nerves kicking in from being around so many strangers at once.

You smiled again, making something stir in his chest. You went over to the small kitchen and grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge- the condensation sweating off in your palm.  As you handed it to him- your fingers brushed- not going unnoticed by Leon.

Is she doing this shit on purpose or…- no, stop. This is normal human interaction. You haven’t been to a true social gathering in so long.

“Sooo… do you have a name? Or should I call you mister Pessimistic?” You teased- referring to what you had said the previous night. Before Leon could even say anything to defend himself- you put your hands up.

“I wanted to apologize, though. I don’t mean to make assumptions but it seems like something else had been bothering you- so I just wanted to clear that up. No hard feelings?” You gave a pressed, dimpled smile- extending your hand.  Leon hesitantly took it with a protected, cautious look glazing his face- which slowly crept into a returned smile.

“Leon.” He finally answered.

You gave him your name, inviting him to come join you and the others in the living room. He looked around- recognizing a few faces- some of which had made noise complaints on him before. 

Great.

He took a seat on your couch- his largeness taking up a good portion. He listened to the few conversations- sipping the water bottle and quenching his dehydration- mostly due to this being the first day in weeks he had gone without drinking for even a few hours. 

Yippee. I can already feel the eyes on me. 

In his mind, he already knew everyone that did know him, even a little, only saw him as an alcoholic that made too much noise and would be gone for weeks at a time with no explanation- which made him even more off putting to them. His nerves were eating away at him.

Then you sat next to him.

Now, his jitters were worse. Or somehow not there at all. He couldn’t tell, but despite you being a complete knock-out that made him a mess, he was comforted by your presence. You had invited him here and still treated him like a person- despite the way he acted towards you previously. 

As you turned to say something to one of the other tenants and gave a laugh at something they said, you had shifted- your thigh brushing Leon’s clothed one. He held his water bottle with both hands- trying to distract himself from the spinning room right now.

“Leon?” You snapped him from his unnerved state- that same, damned smile on your face. Part of him wished you’d stop looking at him like that and hate him like everyone else. It was simpler that way. But no- it just couldn’t be that simple, could it?

He cleared his throat.

“Yeah?” He asked, focused on your face enough to seem like he hadn’t been both panicking and trying to suppress any other emotions- some of which he’d deal with later.

Holy shit, control yourself.

“I was just asking what kind of music you like.” You preened yourself for a moment- checking your hair with your hands and straightening out the front of your dress with your palms.

“Oh- uh. Rock.” He nodded- an answer you definitely expected.

“Cool. I figured.”

“Any particular reason, or…?” He trailed off- failing to realize he had a half smirk on his face.

“You’ll see.” You beamed, nonchalant.

“Okay- that’s not ominous at all.” He chuckled.

The rest of the party went by- Leon being dragged into conversations with fellow tenants and surprisingly- with your help- it salvaged some reputation. Or so he hoped.

After burning out his thin social meter- and most everyone else leaving due to their 9-5s- Leon called it quits too- lingering as long as possible.

You opened the door- gesturing for him out.

“I had a good time, Leon. Maybe come by again?” You invited. He was shocked that you actually enjoyed his company.

She’s just being polite. or maybe not. I’m bad at signals.

“Uh- sure. Thanks again for inviting me.” He muttered as he was caught off guard.

Leon shuffled back to his apartment- for once, disappointed to be home- yet relieved. His boots came off, being hastily kicked by the door before he headed to the bedroom, peeling his clothing off down to his boxers and climbing in.

8:14 pm his digital clock read.

A little early, but…

He released a shaky breath, his hand ghosting over his abs and down to his boxers- freeing his cock. The cool air only heightened how badly he needed to jerk off right now.

Fuck. He can’t remember the last time he had gotten this hard.

He grabbed some bedside lotion- stroking his cock slowly to start off. He told himself he was just horny and that it had been a while- that’s all. But it wasn’t true. You came into his mind- your eyes batting at him, the way your bare thigh brushed again his clothed one- yet somehow still arousing him. Holy fuck, he felt like a pervert. Though, thinking back about it now- he understood you were flirting. If he didn’t need to cum so bad, he’d have hit himself for not realizing. There were always other chances- anyways.

After eventually cumming all over his toned stomach- a surprising, pent up amount- he showered, shaved, and got back into bed- exhausted now that it was 9:30. Not drinking was a surprisingly good way to get to bed on time.

About two months went by- Leon’s busy schedule having him work in office at the D.S.O..

And no more deadly missions…yet. This workload consisted of him showing up late- coffee in hand and very rarely now- hungover. Chris got on his ass twice before giving it a temporary rest.

Though- the one good thing to happen was becoming friends with you- not exactly the most tight-knit but you both did spend some quality time together here and there- occasionally exchanging a phone call or a text. You even gifted him Rock CDs from time to time, being the reason you asked about his music taste. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t jam out to them on the way to work now.

The thing was.. you’re bubbly, full of energy. Young. Everything he was at one point. He loved seeing that in other people- giving him more of a reason to keep up his work- saving lives and giving others a chance at happiness and freedom. This was the first time he had seen this in a good light.

Leon had gotten home, throwing his keys and files onto the countertop. Right as he went to sit down- his phone buzzed loudly in his pocket, making him groan.

Please don’t be work, Please don’t be work. Please don’t be work.

It was you. He scrambled for the bright green button to answer you, putting the phone to his ear.

“Leon speaking.” He said flatly- trying to play cool.

“Heyyyy. You’re not busy are you?” You dragged the words, cautious not to weird him out. But if he was being honest with himself- there’s no way you could do that.

“Nope… why?” He asked, still not bothering to sit down yet.

“Well- I was wondering if you wanted to come over for a movie night or something..?” You sucked in a breath quietly- awaiting his answer.

Leon equally panicked- it being so long since a woman invited him to do anything- let alone showed him interest. He replied.

“Sure. Sounds good to me.” 

Perfect. Not desperate. 

You smiled.

“Cool. Just come over whenever. Door is unlocked.”

“Mhm.” He nervously mumbled, ending the call.

Yeah. Maybe he had panicked for a moment there. No worries, he still had to show up and screw up the rest before he could call it quits. After all, it was the first time you had invited him over to your place- at least for something this intimate anyways. He grabbed his keys again, heading out and to your apartment. He hated entering without permission- but he did have permission. So now he felt even more.. conflicted. He gripped the handle, letting himself in and closing the door. You were on the couch, remote in hand with a bowl of popcorn on the table- two glasses of whiskey poured.

Fuck me.

A pretty girl and alcohol would not mix well with Leon. What so fucking ever. He put his hand up in gesture.

“Hey- so what amazing movie did you have in mind?” He asked- avoiding the topic of alcohol being present.

“Hmm… how about you help me pick?” You hummed- Leon standing awkwardly. He was too lost looking you over. Your tanktop. Your shorts. Your exposed legs, the tops of your breasts framed by the tank tops hem.

Stop it.  

Again, this has to be on purpose.

No- she probably thinks you’re a creepy old fuck.

Wait- then why would she invite me over?

“You can sit down- you know? I know you like whiskey- so I figured maybe you’d want some to unwind. After all- I did interrupt your relaxation time.” You knew what time he got off of work- feeling slight guilt but also wanting to be around him.

“Right-“ Leon nodded as he sat in the comfy, plush chair adjacent to the couch- leaning forward to grab the whiskey in his hand- the glass material cool against his palm. As he took a sip- his eyes momentarily fixed on you while you had joined in on tending to your own glass.

“Didn’t know young people enjoyed whiskey. Just thought that was something old farts like me drank.” He chuckled.

A smile crawled onto your lips- the tipsy-ness entering your system already.

“Uh… I don’t. Just thought it was a nice gesture.” You said playfully- hinting that this was solely for him. Your face was tinged with a very subtle pink, your own body loose and not in sync with your brain as the alcohol slowly crept into your veins.

“Woah- don’t go getting plastered now. That’s my job.” He joked- his usual, non-depressed demeanor was showing through more and more. Though- he, for some reason, felt fucking nervous.

Leon could barely feel his own buzz- the more recent lack of raging alcoholism letting his tolerance lower back down. Which was a downside right now.

The two of you had agreed on some more-than-likely shitty horror movie, you getting up to turn off the lights and sitting back in your spot. You both laughed, talking about the poorly done effects amongst other things. Leon was safe- you were sitting far away. Surely it would all be fine.

Then a scene came on. Sexual, of course. Some girl on top of a guy, their naked bodies sweaty as she rode him. Leon- naturally didn’t think of anything but how awkward it was to watch this with someone else- but you however, decided to speak, the alcohol clearly breaking a barrier here.

“You know- I never understood how girls did that.”

His eyebrow raised and his eyes shot over to you.

“Uh, forgive me… but do what, exactly?”

You giggled- the sound reverberating in Leon’s eardrums and his chest, making him want to lose composure.

“You know- ride dick or whatever.” You again giggled- moving to straddle your pricey throw pillow. You weren’t drunk- but definitely letting loose…

Oh fuck. Is all his brain could muster as his fingers tightened on his glass.

No fucking way.

You shifted your hips- more awkward with an audience watching.

“Okay- would you say… like this?” You asked- your voice sprinkled with confidence and nervousness at the same time.

Leon leaned forward, setting his glass down.

Jesus Christ. Okay.

“I- uh… are you asking for pointers?” He chuckled- not wanting to be creepy- but mostly showing restraint because god knows he didn’t need to feel even hornier than he did right now.

Is this how young women flirt or am I seeing into this too much?

“Yes.” You said, dragging out the e- as if to sound like it was obvious that you did indeed want pointers.

Before he did anything else- Leon picked the glass back up- downing the rest of his whiskey quickly and setting it on the coffee table again. He’d regret chugging it later- he was sure.

He stood, walking a little closer to the couch.

“I- uh… how exactly do you want me to give you tips here?” He asked, letting out that low chuckle again.

You chortled- shaking your head.

“Hands, words, whatever you feel like.” You said, boldly but with a hint of something else. He just couldn’t tell what, yet.

“Okay…got it. What are friends for, after all…” he muttered- sinking to his knees by the couch- his hands reaching out to rest on the small of your back and the other on your stomach.

“First things first- relax. You're a little stiff and nervous.”

Not exactly that easy with a dilf having his hands on you- but sure. You thought sarcastically. But still- you tried to loosen up.

“Here- rock slowly- and try using your knees for most of the work. Like lifting yourself and lowering- you know?”

God- fucking kill me now. He couldn’t even function- his words probably not making sense with how hard his dick is right now.

“And arch your back a little.” He continued- sucking in a breath. You bit your lip- wanting to just pounce on him already- but you held back. It was nearly impossible with the words he was saying.

Leon watched your movements- knowing this wouldn’t end at a simple, weirdly sexual and ‘friendly’ lesson. No.

“Christ- maybe… you wanna help me practice?” You mutter- hair in your face.

“Isn’t that what we’re doing already?” He asked- the whiskey and horniness clouding his cognitive function.

“No-“ you laugh, shifting to sit up straight.

“I mean on you.”

He was dumbfounded for a moment- like characters in a cartoon when they get smacked with a frying pan. He could swear his head might have spun, too.

“I-…” he started, before you interrupted.

“No- I’m so sorry. You probably think I’m being weird and tipsy- coming onto you like this.

Leon shook his head- his bangs brushing across his face for a moment.

“That’s not it at all- I’ve just been holding back. I’m old. And don’t want you to think I’m some pervert.” He finally manages- spilling his vulnerability across the room. To you- it explains why he’s downplayed your subtle advances for the last few months.

You smile- shifting off of the pillow now.

“I find your age sexy.”

“Yeah- but the gray hairs, the wrinkles, the-“

You stop him, a firm ‘Nuh, uh.’

“Again- all of it’s attractive.” 

Leon wastes no time getting up off his knees- kicking his boots aside and settling onto the couch. He pats his lap- gliding a hand over his clothed thigh. You grin- settling into his lap- and Christ, you can feel his cock harder than diamond through his jeans.

“All for you..” he mumbles- tracing his hands along your waist. You lean in slow, your lips touching and alcohol scented breaths mixing. All he can think about now is how soft your lips are- and the way you taste. Yeah, he’s fucking hooked.

And now- here he was- underneath you as you rode his dick- rolling your hips perfectly and alternating between lifting yourself while he groaned underneath you. His hands squeezed at the soft flesh of your ass- guiding you lightly. And to your surprise- unlike his normal self- he was quite verbal.

“God, baby- you’re a quick learner. Just like that.” He huffed, his head lulling back in pleasure for a moment- your hips coming down hard and his cock filling you to the hilt once more.

“Yes- bounce yourself- f-fuck. You’re doing amazing- I knew you had it in you.” He spews encouragements and obscenities- definitely boosting your ego and filling your metaphorical praise kink meter.

But you do exactly as he says- continuing to bounce yourself on his cock oh-so-fucking perfect. The view for him is everything- watching your cunt swallow him every time you move down, and your tits bouncing in his face- hell- a view this good made him want to put down alcohol forever just for another chance. Then again- a little drinking is how you both got here.

“Fuck..” you whine as one of his free hands moves to place a thumb over your clit, rubbing in languid circles.

“You like that, huh? Tell me how I can- fuck- make it even better for you- baby.” 

You shake your head no- unable to form a sentence with the combination of pleasure running through your body- and your focus on riding him. Everything was perfect already, and him calling you baby certainly didn’t help your concentration- ripping your orgasm through you.

Leon nearly lost his personal composure- the way you tightened around him like a vice- threatening to take everything from him. This didn’t stop him however- he continued with even more fervor- one hand on your hip and the other on the arm of the couch as he bucked up to meet your movements- giving a bit of relief to your tired legs. He could feel you having trouble, so he decided to take the weight off your shoulders completely.

His arms effortlessly lifted you while he was still inside- moving to put your back against the soft couch while he hoisted your legs over his shoulders for a deep angle. Those rough hands held onto the backs of your thighs, and he slowly slid himself out- gauging your reaction.

“You want it like this?” He asked lowly, you responded eagerly almost right away.

“Yes- god yes.” Was all he needed before slamming back into you. And out. And in again. You could barely see his smug face through the stars you were seeing- which quickly subsided when you pulled his head down to kiss on his stubble- trailing your lips down his strong jawline and prickled neck while your moans reverberated against his skin. With how much you seem to enjoy his stubble- he’s glad he stopped shaving so often.

The whole experience, really- was something he hadn’t had in fucking years. Maybe 10 or more- he lost count. He was just glad he still had this sexual stamina in him- and maybe the gym and recent lack of drinking helped. Who knows?

He was completely lost in the feeling of your pussy clenched around him and your lips on his neck that he swore he was hit in the head when you suddenly told him you wanted him to cum in you.

“F-fuck, baby. That’s a big ask.” He groaned- the words from your mouth alone making him almost bust right there.

“Birth control.” You muttered against his skin, unable to say much else through the moaning since he was pounding into you.

“God- okay. You’re not making this easy.” 

Leon sucked in a breath- moving his hands off your thighs and pushing your legs gently off his shoulders- now pressing his chest to yours and wrapping his arms around you- a close and rather intimate position but not unwelcome. 

He grunted- muttering into your ear now as he fucked into you, the squelching and skin slapping almost defeaning.

“If you want me to cum in you- I think I need to hear a please, don’t you?” He said the words smug- knowing you were in no state to really talk- but the word left your mouth faster than he could have slammed back into you.

Leon groaned against your ear- your plea somehow managing to turn him on even more before he gave one good, last thrust into you- his hips tightening as he came inside. His hold on you was tight- yet affectionate- despite neither of you having previous romance. After all- sex was a big deal with Leon and he wouldn’t have granted you this had he not been slightly (okay maybe very much) head over heels for you.

After a few moments of cuddling- Leon prompted you to get up to go pee by patting you gently on the back- helping your wobbly-legged self to the bathroom before giving you privacy- as if he didn’t just rearrange your guts to infinity and back again.

You expected him to have left after- as any guy would- but he was still here. He took it upon himself to straighten up your couch cushions and anything else that had been out of place from your shared lovemaking.

“You didn’t have to do all of that- you know?” You teased, coming out of the bathroom in an oversized shirt and underwear- comfortable.

“Well, it’s no bother to me. It should be a given, yeah?” He turned to you- only in his jeans as he buckled his belt- seemingly searching for his shirt. Though- you secretly wished he’d never have to wear one again.

You walked a little closer to where he was standing by the couch, a little hesitant to ask your next question.

“Would you… maybe want to stay over?”

[samdyke]

they should have let claire kill - no okay let me rephrase. They should have let jack kill — no wait wait . They should have let kevin kill dean and sam with hammers. First.

[mayakern]

Hiiii

I'm a writer who makes queer supernatural horror/dark fantasy/sci fi stories I was wondering if you might be okay with talking about your process in getting an editor/getting published? I know the basics, but I'm interested in hearing how people who are also writing queer stories have managed to gather followings for themselves and put their work out there

Thank you!

previous to self publishing, i participated in dvpit/pitmad which were events for unrepresented authors to pitch their works to agents and i also queried a number of agents and pubs separate from that. i received only rejections, which wasn’t really surprising because most publishers only accept fantasy romance manuscripts of a maximum length of 150-170k words. at the time, spitfire was 307k. i didn’t really take this too hard because i knew it was a long shot, since being outside of submission requirements is almost always an automatic rejection for new authors. i just wanted to be able to say i tried, honestly.

because of this and because i did not feel equipped to split the book into two by myself, i decided to self publish the book. it sold… surprisingly well. well enough that i suddenly had the budget to fund an audiobook with just enough money left over to hire a line editor to get the book polished before someone cemented my words in audio form.

i put out a call for editors on social media and got over 100 applicants. i requested editing samples from the people who were in my budget and seemed like potentially good matches. i had a lot of very strong choices but the moment i read danielle’s editing sample, i knew she was the one because she just got it, plain and simple. i was primarily looking for a line editor but i also had a couple non-syntax issues that were small enough to not require a huge structural overhaul of anything, but were big enough that my exhausted brain just wasn’t untangling them. i needed fresh eyes.

and then, as danielle and i were just hammering out our plans for our edits, claire contacted me. they’d seen some of my tiktoks about the book and were intrigued, then realized that they already knew me/my work and had actually bought a skirt from me at a con a few years back. they requested my manuscript, read it over, we had a couple meetings and then i signed with them. they suggested splitting the book into two and now that i was equipped with both a fantastic editor and agent—and now that trad pub seemed on the table and it seemed i wouldn’t need to self fund my own audiobook—i suddenly had the funds and support needed to tackle a huge structural overhaul of the once duology, now series.

all in all things only really worked out because i already had an audience who was willing to give a new author a chance. i think it helped a lot that i initially posted the book on ao3, meaning people could read it for free and didn’t have to spend money to risk being disappointed in something. it make the buy in very cheap for people. and somehow enough of them decided that they liked the book enough to buy it, giving me the funds for an editor and the numbers to look attractive to prospective publishers.

anyway don’t use this as a guide for how to get published. i have not been picked up by a publisher and even if i had, the path i’ve taken is really fucking weird and not viable for most people.

regardless, i hope this helped somehow and i wish you luck!