#I miss the constant sugar daddy invites

[loveerran]

Where are all the sexy Tumblr man bots?

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 9: Now I Love Your Shadow And I Love Your Curls]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “Til I Die” by Parsonsfield. 

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sex, violence, and drug use.

Word Count: 7.6k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @maggieroseevans​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @escabell​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee​ @deacyblues​ @tensecondvacation​ @brianssixpence​ @some-major-ishues​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @youngpastafanmug​ @simonedk​

Field Trip

“You want to go to Chicago with me?”                

I coughed, having almost inhaled a chunk of pineapple off my slice of GrubHubbed pizza. We were sitting on the grass outside Forks And Spoons under the shade of the maple trees, which were turning from jade to ruby to amber to fool’s gold, rejoining the earth they once rose from one fallen leaf at a time. It hadn’t rained in almost four days—was that some kind of record?!—and the leaves littering the ground crunched when I stepped on them, which I did purposefully and often. The breeze was soft and whispery and temperate. I could get used to this whole having actual seasons thing. “What, in like a hypothetical, at some point in my life kind of way?”

Joe smiled. His U Chicago hoodie of the day was black. “No, as in this weekend.”

“Really?”

“The Cubs have a game on Saturday, and it’s supposed to be rainy and overcast the whole time, and I just thought...” He shrugged, toying with a piece of pizza crust before tossing it to the squirrels. He’s nervous, I realized. How the hell do I have the ability to make the sexy undead Italian man nervous? “It might be nice for us to be able to get away for a few days. Away from my family. Away from Charlie. Not that I don’t appreciate the ambient noise of his snoring from the living room couch, it’s super endearing, I seriously consider dating him instead of you at least twice a week.”

“Go for it. Charlie could use a rich husband. His pension is pathetic.”

“You wouldn’t miss me?”

“I am not necessarily opposed to clandestinely seducing my sugar daddy stepdad should the occasion arise.”

Joe crossed himself like a nun passing tattooed, cursing, lip-pierced teenagers on the sidewalk. “Lord, protect me from this harlot.”

A weekend away. No Charlie, no constant and chaotic whirlwind of Lees, no Ben. I hadn’t spoken to Ben since our misadventure in the Lee kitchen; if he wasn’t avoiding me of his own volition, he was following orders to stay away. Joe claimed that they’d talked it out. I wasn’t sure if I believed him. “I accept your invitation. Although, truthfully, I’d rather get hit by a bus than watch an entire real-life, no-commercial-breaks baseball game.”

“I accept your acceptance. And I’ll throw in a visit to the Shedd Aquarium, just for you. They have baby sea otters.”

“Sweet.” I checked my iPhone. “I’m gonna be late for Chemistry.”

“Anything fun planned?”

“We’re doing a lab involving hydrochloric acid. I’m highly concerned that Ben will accidentally spill some on himself. The miraculous instantaneous healing thing might raise a few questions.”

“Hm,” Joe replied. But he wasn’t looking at me; he was looking at my bandaged hand. And he wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Joe, I’m fine.”

“Yeah.” He took a preoccupied swig of his Dr. Pepper. Solemnity never seemed right on him; it was like he was wearing somebody else’s skin. “You’ve mentioned that.”

“Hey. Mob guy.”

Now his eyes flicked to mine.                              

“No more sad spaghetti.”

“Okay.” He surrendered, took my face in his hands, gave me a kiss on each cheek and then one quick parting peck on the forehead. “You win. I’m not sad. I’m ecstatic, actually. I’m gonna be eating my weight in hotdogs and mustard-slathered pretzels on Saturday. What’s there not to be ecstatic about?”

“The fact that your license says you’re only twenty and consequently can’t get a beer?”

Joe blinked, remembering. “Fuck.”

I drained my Diet Coke, flung my pizza crust to the skittering grey squirrels—no eerie albino forest friends today—and pulled on my backpack. “See ya. Have an awesome time in Game Theory.”

“Thanks, I probably won’t!” he chimed, waving, grinning compliantly; and yet did I still sense some lingering menace of disquiet, of fear? I suspected I did. Chicago would cure everything.

Ben tensed when I walked into Professor Belvin’s classroom, ran his fingers through his unruly blond hair, peered fixedly down at his notebook and feigned obliviousness. There was already a metal tray of Erlenmeyer flasks, labeled bottles of solutions, burettes, goggles, gloves, and an unassembled ring stand crowding our small table by the open window. Autumn air poured in like seawater through cracks in the hull of a ship.

“Guess who’s gonna see the Cubs play up close and personal this Saturday?” I announced.

He pretended to have just noticed me. “...You...? But that doesn’t sound like you.”

“It was Joe’s idea. I’m acting like I’m not totally thrilled and freaking out about it, but I am. Don’t tell him.”

Now Ben was the one staring at my bandaged hand. His green eyes were large and unfocused.

“I’m fine,” I insisted.  

“Sure,” Ben returned noncommittally.

I started skimming through the packet of lab instructions and setting up our titration experiment as Professor Belvin circulated through the classroom, observing, commenting, offering suggestions and critiques. My wounded hand—still sore in the lull between Advil doses and relatively useless—was quite the embarrassing hinderance; I fumbled with a large glass flask and almost dropped it.

Ben shook his head and reached out to stop me. “Here, oh my god, this is so pitiful, sit down. Please sit down. I’ll set it up. It’s the least I can do.”

“Thanks.” I peeked at his notebook. “Your handwriting is atrocious. Haven’t you had like a century to work on that?”

“Penmanship was never at the top of my to-do list, tragically.”

“What language is that, anyway?” The phrases scrawled in black ink in Ben’s notebook definitely weren’t English. Or Italian. “Elvish? Are you a lowkey Lord Of The Rings fan? Magic and self-sacrifice and nearly insurmountable evil, I could see that being your thing.”

He smirked, struggling with the ring stand. “It’s Welsh.”

“Welsh,” I repeated, perplexed. “Welsh...like how Gwil is Welsh?”

“Precisely.”

Professor Belvin checked in on us, nodded in approval, reminded me that I was always welcome to stop by at bowling league activities, and resumed his wandering.

“Gwil still speaks it,” Ben continued. “The rest of them speak it too. At least enough for basic communication.”

“I didn’t know,” I said, fascinated, examining the long, unfamiliar words riddled with Ls and Ws and Cs. “But that must be very useful.”

“It is. Welsh is nearly a dead language at this point. It’s like talking in code. I always refused to learn it on principle...or maybe I was just being difficult. I would study other languages, Arabic, Japanese...but not Welsh. That was always Gwil’s language. Their language. It was a Lee thing. But now...”

“Now you’re sort of a Lee too,” I finished for him, smiling.

“Whatever,” Ben said, hiding behind his bangs.

I watched him as he at last tamed the ring stand, secured the burette, placed the Erlenmeyer flask. Then he began reading the labels on the solution bottles. “Guess what else.”

“What, Baby Swan?”

I grinned, showing off my unremarkable, entirely benign human teeth. “I’ll bring you back your very own U Chicago hoodie.”

That night, after a pleasantly prosaic dinner with Charlie—burgers, one veggie and one of the conventional variety, and milkshakes at Danny’s Diner—I started packing a small, Arizona-sky-blue suitcase as sparse raindrops pattered against the roof and moonlight streamed in through the open window. Then I ticked off my mental inventory.

“Jeans, sweaters, pajamas, socks...”

I pawed through the top drawer of my old, scratched dresser—the same one that had once upon a time been Renee’s—and contemplated the bra and panty options. Would my theme be comfort and practicality, or feral impenitent seductress? Friday and Saturday in Chicago would be our first nights alone together. That had to be significant, right? After some deliberation, I gathered a handful of lacy, transparent, and/or exceptionally skimpy lingerie from Victoria’s Secret that Jessica had more or less forced upon me during a shopping trip in Port Angeles last month. As I dropped them into the open suitcase, I glanced up to see the albino owl outside my open bedroom window.

“You never know,” I told the owl, shrugging.

It leered judgmentally back at me with those gory red eyes.

“Oh shut up. How many eggs have you laid in your lifetime, Casper The Unfriendly Ghost? Probably like a bazillion. Freaking feathery trollop.”

The owl had nothing to offer in its own defense.

“Why don’t you ever come around when Joe’s here? I’m sure he’d love to meet you. He’s pale and weird too. Although I like his eyes a little better than yours. No offense, Snowflake.”

The owl blinked, tilted its gaze at me, ruffled its feathers and sent the raindrops that had gathered there flying in every direction.

I slid my iPhone out of my back pocket, spun around, and snapped a quick selfie with the owl in the background. “Say cheese, Marshmallow!”

The owl immediately unfurled its wings and flapped off into the trees, vanishing.

“Huh. I guess homegirl is camera shy.” I texted my selfie to Archer, typing out with my thumbs: I am the Steve Irwin of Forks. Behold, one of my many forest friends.

Archer replied a few minutes later: WOW! Pasty and mildly disturbing. Exactly your type. :)

“Yours too, apparently,” I murmured, smiling in my empty room.

I went to my full-length mirror with the plastic, teal-colored border, briefly appraised my reflection, felt a dull swell of approval for what I saw there. The version of myself that had once been so consumed by fears of inadequacy seemed impossibly far away, maybe even fictitious, a dream so vivid I could mistake it for truth. Three things were taped across the top of the mirror: Joe’s Official Citation!! No More Sad Spaghetti!! post-it, his Official Whatever You Want Pass, and a photo of us dressed up together and standing in front of the limo in the Lees’ driveway just before the Calawah University Homecoming dance. I peeled off the Official Whatever You Want Pass, carefully folded it into a neat little square, and tucked it into my wallet.

When the rain began to pour and thunder rolled in off the Pacific Ocean, I closed my bedroom window; but I remembered to leave it unlocked for Joe.

Departure

“Got your license?”

“Yes, Dad,” Joe sighed.

“Got your airport snacks?”

Joe held up the gallon-sized Ziploc bag filled with pumpkin and white chocolate chip cookies. “We’re ready to rock.”

“Call me when you get there safe,” Mercy fretted, hugging me and then Joe. “And Joseph, sweetheart, you make sure you keep an eye on her. She’s never been to Chicago before, it’s a big city, and O’Hare is an absolute nightmare, it’s so easy to get lost...”

“I don’t think he needs any reminders, love.” Dr. Lee laid a hand on her shoulder, stroked his neatly-trimmed beard with the other, watched us with a vague and wistful smile.

Mercy went back to trimming the flowers she had spread out across the kitchen countertop, white calla lilies that she threaded one by one into a translucent sapphire blue vase. “Now don’t forget to say goodbye to your brother. He’s out back feeding the new ducks. And I expect these ones to stick around for a while, thank you very much.”

“Mom, I don’t need to say goodbye to Rami. I’ll just think it. Really loudly.” Joe rubbed his temples with his fingertips and squeezed his eyes shut. “Peace out, you nosy bastard.”

“Joseph,” Mercy pleaded.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go say goodbye. Don’t get all aggressive. Don’t take it out on the flowers.” Aggressive...what a joke. I doubted that Mercy Eleanor Lee, formerly Martin, had a single aggressive bone in her immortal body; not even the infinitesimal stapes of her inner ears or the sesamoids of her feet.

“They’re calla lilies,” she replied dreamily, tending them like children. “And they symbolize love, and beauty, and fidelity...”

My nostrils itched and burned faintly in dissent. “I think I’m allergic to them.”

“You’re allergic to fidelity?” Joe asked, raising his eyebrows. “That’s it, now you’re definitely not getting my reclaimed virginity. No ma’am. I am not hit-it-and-quit-it material.”

“Oh sweet baby Jesus,” Mercy murmured.

“I’m going,” Joe said, showing his palms in capitulation and disappearing out the back door. I dragged my suitcase to the front one, politely declining Mercy and Gwil’s offers to help.

Lucy—her bleached hair in a high half-ponytail and wearing polka-dotted black tights, combat boots, a plaid miniskirt, and an extremely Octoberish orange sweater—was sitting cross-legged on the roof of Gwil’s Volvo. God, he’s such a dad. “Have a nice time,” she chirped artfully.

I opened the hatch of Joe’s Subaru and threw my suitcase inside. “Why do you sound like you already know I will?”

“I might have some relevant clairvoyant insight.”

“No way.” I stared up at her, stunned, my hands on my waist. “But you can’t see me, right...?”

“True. But this vision wasn’t of you. It was of Joe. You just happened to be there.”

Interesting. Very interesting. “And what transpired in this vision?” A night full of hot, steamy, blissful vampire sex? A girl could dream.

Lucy closed her eyes, recalling it fondly, maybe even cherishing it. “You were sitting in the stands of a professional baseball game. I could hear the crowd roaring, the umpire’s trumpeting interruptions. Blue and white...everyone was wearing blue and white. And you were there together—Joe a vampire, you human, side by side, almost entwined—shouting to each other over the thunderous noise and laughing and pushing nuggets of soft pretzels into each other’s mouths. So happy. I’d never seen Joe so happy.” Her striking pale eyes came open. “And he’s someone who’s already rather prone to happiness, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“I have,” I agreed.

“He’s never been serious about anybody else. I hope you know that.”

“I know that’s what he tells me.”

“It’s the truth,” Lucy insisted. “I would know if it wasn’t. Rami would know, Ben would know. Joe...he’s kind of the opposite of you. He’s always been the easiest to read. He’s the one Rami hears most loudly, the one who shows up most often in my visions. He’s clear, you know? Uncomplicated. Authentic. And what you mean to him...it’s something everybody sees. It’s a contagious sort of lightness, of joy. So thank you for that.”

And if whatever mysterious genetic switch that renders me immune to your talents wasn’t flipped, I’m pretty sure I’d look the same way. “I should definitely be thanking you,” I said. “You guys have a pretty cool existence going on here. And I’m so grateful to be invited into it.” For however long this lasts, anyway.

“None of us really invited you,” Lucy demurred. “We just let it happen.”

“So everyone knew I was coming? Because you saw it?”

“Everyone but Joe.”

“You never told him?”

“No. Not even now.” Lucy turned sharply towards the trees, as if she heard something in the soaring western hemlocks that swayed drunkenly in the wind. After a moment, she continued. “I’m not sure if I can even explain why. It wasn’t that I feared changing the timeline or something...my visions always come true regardless. Always. But I guess...” She tugged on her short half-ponytail, pondering. “I guess I didn’t want to cloud any of his decision-making, any of his emotions with the specter of the inevitable. I wanted whatever he felt for you to be completely organic. And it is.”

I considered her. “You are extremely thoughtful for someone who spends as much time shopping as you do.”

Lucy laughed in a high-pitched, almost juvenile trill, netting her fingers beneath her chin, her elbows resting on her bent knees. “I do like to shop. I didn’t always though.” She peered off into the trees again, this time pensively. “Did Joe tell you anything about my life before Gwil saved me?”

“Aside from the copious hippie jokes, not really.”

She nodded, her eyes far-away and still lost in the forest. “Gwil and Mercy are inordinately wonderful people. My biological father and mother, unfortunately, were not. And maybe they couldn’t help it, because from what I understand their parents were monsters too. I don’t think of them very often now, not even to resent them. But when I was alive I burned with it, with all that hatred, with all that bitterness. Every bruise was another log on the fire. Every screaming match or hurled plate was a splash of gasoline. So I ran away and found what I fancied to be a new family, and I lived on basement couches and out of vans and in abandoned buildings, and I explored increasingly inventive ways of putting that fire out.”

The October breeze cascaded through the trees, carrying echoes of birdsong and disembodied distant voices and the scent of pine. It reminded me of Joe.

“Chemically speaking,” Lucy said, “that first hit of heroin, that first high...it’s the best you’ll ever feel in your entire life. Nothing else will ever compare. Not skydiving, not backpacking through Southeast Asia on some Pulitzer-prize-winning journey of self-discovery, not winning the lottery, not the births of your children, not falling in love. And once you accept that, what’s the point in stopping? Everything you ever experience will live in the shadow of that needle. You’re twenty-five and you’ve already seen the endgame. You’re born, you suffer, you catch a glimpse of paradise, you pay bills and push shopping carts down the aisles of grocery stores and insipidly smile your way through your husband’s work parties until you die. What’s the fucking point? So I didn’t stop shooting heroin. And the whole time, I knew it was killing me. That’s what they don’t tell kids when they force them to make those idiotic classroom promises to never do drugs. You know it’s killing you, but you don’t care. Because it feels so goddamn good. Because it becomes the only sliver of your existence that doesn’t cut like glass beneath your skin. Sometimes you love things so much you let them kill you, isn’t that ridiculous?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer her; still, I heard my own voice: “Yes, it is.”

“It took dying for me to see that life is worth living. That there’s magic in the mundane and the frivolous. And that there’s beauty everywhere if you bother to look for it.” Lucy uncrossed her trim legs, leapt gracefully off the Volvo, and—with definite but not unkind scrutiny—pulled at the collar of my thrift shop sweater. “Even in your very, very, very misguided fashion preferences.”

The front door of the Lee house swung open, and Joe jogged out, carrying his suitcase. Gwil, Mercy, Scarlett, Rami, and Ben appeared on the porch to wave us off.

“What’d you do?!” Joe demanded, pointing at Lucy.

“Nothing,” she quipped.

“You guys gotta stop doing this!” Joe exclaimed. “You know what you’re doing, you know exactly what you’re doing, you gotta stop cornering people and forcing them to listen to your creepy tragic backstories! Nobody freaking asked!”

Lucy chuckled patiently and stood on her tiptoes to hug him goodbye. “Have fun.”

“You know it.” Joe tossed his suitcase into the Subaru and opened the driver’s door. “Ready, Baby Swan?”

“Almost.”

I walked to the wrap-around porch, climbed the steps, held my hand out to Ben. My stitches had almost completely dissolved over the past week, and the clunky impediment of bandages was no more. Joe crossed his arms and watched from beside the Subaru with an uneasy frown, but he didn’t try to stop me. He nodded to Rami, so subtly I almost didn’t notice. Rami nodded back.

“I will miss your melodramatic brooding immensely,” I told Ben. “Please do some fun family stuff while we’re gone. I’ll see you soon. Dan eich bendith.”

“Dan eich bendith,” he replied, taken aback. And then, after a moment’s hesitation, he ignored my outstretched hand and embraced me, his grasp so strong and yet so careful. His scent like crisp leaves and salted caramel and autumn sieved into a bottle unfolded in my lungs like an opened book.

“I Googled that especially for you,” I whispered. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m in awe.” His words were characteristically sardonic, but I heard warmth in them as well. When Ben pulled away, I saw that everyone else was smiling. Mercy had tears in her eyes.

I retreated back down the porch steps and met Joe by the Subaru. “Okay, mob guy. I’m good.”

He slid on his sunglasses, shook his head, flashed a proud and toothy grin. “You definitely are.”

All the way down Route 101 to the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, we listened to Joe’s classic rock mixtapes and my NOAA Ocean Podcast episodes, reviewed the weekend itinerary, ran through the bare essentials for me to understand an MLB game (“Which I am totally not excited about whatsoever,” I informed Joe, who knew enough not to believe me).

When the Boeing 747 ascended above the clouds and unimpeded sunlight poured in from the other passengers’ windows, Joe put on a black sleeping mask over his sunglasses and reclined his seat, tried to nap, passed the time until he would be safe beneath the curtains of the sky again.

Somewhere over the Dakotas, as I leafed through a book about the Great Barrier Reef for my Marine Botany class, Joe’s hand bumped mine. “Hey,” he said drowsily, seriously; and I braced myself for some emotional declaration, some dire warning, some grave realization of the futility of what we agreed—almost always wordlessly, and yet unfailingly—was love.

“Yeah?”

“It’s an emergency.”

“Uh oh,” I replied, smiling now.

“Flag down the flight attendant and get some more of those honey roasted peanut packets,” Joe said. “I’m starving myself back to death over here.”

The Windy City

The bat cracked deafeningly against the baseball pitched at nearly a hundred miles per hour. It was a home run. The crowd erupted into mindless, primal shrieks of conquest; and when Joe jumped to his feet, clapping and cheering and nearly spilling his blue-and-white bucket of popcorn, I found that I did as well. I screamed for the team of a city I’d never lived in, sank back into my seat beside Joe, nestled against his chest as his right arm closed around my waist and hauled me in closer, as his left hand teased me with a soft pretzel nugget hovering just out of reach. And in that moment, I felt like Lucy, snatching Polaroids out of the space-time continuum of the present and the future and the past. There was where Joe and I were right now, of course; the day we had met each other in the nonfiction section of the Calawah University library; the dance floor at Homecoming; the first night he snuck soundlessly into my bedroom window; all those years we still had left to spend together. Not forever, but perhaps long enough.

“I like this baseball thing,” I told him over the roar of the crowd, twirling my fingers around the curling locks of dark hair that stuck out from under his Cubs cap. Or maybe I just like you.

“Whew, thank god.” Joe wiped his forehead with the back of his hand in mock relief. “Now I don’t have to break up with you.”

After the game—a 5-3 Cubs victory, close enough to keep the spectators’ blood pumping throughout—we boarded the L, held onto the metal railings as the packed train car bumped and swerved along, and disembarked in Little Italy. Historic brownstones were interrupted by a freckling of pizzerias, Italian ice stands, and sports bars spilling out shouts of triumph and despair. We were staying in the Four Seasons with a view of Lake Michigan; but we had an hour of daylight—albeit chilled, dreary, and forever threatening rain—left in our Saturday. Tomorrow would be the aquarium, and then dinner before catching our flight back to Seattle, back to the greenery and fog and eternal dampness that I was beginning to think of as my home. Had I really only left Phoenix two months ago? Had I ever really lived there at all?

“So,” Joe said as we walked under shedding green ash and black cherry trees, his arm draped across my shoulders. “Guess what the University of Chicago has. In addition to a killer Economics PhD program, which yours truly will be graduating from in approximately 2027, astonishingly aged not a single day. Maybe he’s born with it, maybe it’s Maybelline.”

“Hideous sweatshirts?” I guessed.

“One of the best Marine Biology departments in the world. And the affiliated Marine Biological Laboratory up in Massachusetts, where they send their PhDs to do research.”

“Wait, seriously?” I stopped abruptly, the heels of my boots squealing against the sidewalk. “You mean...for me?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, for my other girlfriend who is also inexplicably super obsessed with the ocean. I clearly have a type.”

“You want me...to come to Chicago...with you...after graduation? For like...a five to seven year commitment?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Well, that just sounds...serious.”

“Huh. What do you know. I guess we’re serious after all.” He took my hand and pulled me gently forward, leading me down West Taylor Street. He seemed to have a destination in mind.

“How is this going to work for you, anyway?” I asked, beaming uncontrollably now, trotting along beside him. “Living in a place that isn’t Washington or Scotland or Alaska?” Chicago was cold and cloudy for a lot of the year, true, but few cities were Forks-level wet and sunless. Forks-level tyrannically depressing, I would have said two months ago.  

He shrugged, unphased. “Night classes. Sunglasses. Faking a chronic illness so I don’t have to leave our house. I’m really good at that one. Plus I can get a doctor’s note any time I want one. I’ve got connections, you know.”

Our house. He said OUR house.

Joe came to halt in front of a stately yet plain brownstone which now operated as a trendy bookstore, the kind that sold six dollar lattes and hosted anarchist poetry slams on Friday nights.

“Is this where we’re going to crack hipsters’ kneecaps as a bonding activity?” I asked.

“This is where I grew up.”

I looked again, studying the earth-colored stone quarried over a century ago, the wrought iron railings that framed the front steps, the rectangular windows revealing the illumination and shadows of other families’ lives. “Joe,” I said softly, leaning into him, searching for my words.

“There were eight Mazzello kids: Joseph, Charles, Mimi, Salvador, Donna, Lucia, Bianca, and Giuliano.” He rattled them off like a jingle from a fast food commercial. “And I was the oldest. So when my dad dropped dead of a heart attack in the middle of his shift at the Zenith Radio factory, it was my job to step up and figure out how to keep everyone fed. I was seventeen and completely hopeless at school back then; Sal was always the smart one, the disciplined one, he ended up as a math professor at Loyola University. I was just some directionless, grieving kid who never shut up. But there was a place for boys like me in Chicago in the 1920s. The mob could get you money. The mob could turn that same incessant chatter that got you bruised at school into something useful. And the mob could give you a family.”

Joe watched the brownstone solemnly, meditatively, his hands in his pockets.

“My mom sobbed for an hour the first time I brought home an envelope full of bills with Hamilton’s face on them. She knew how I got it. But how could she say no, how could she tell me to stop? We’d never seen money like that. All my siblings could finish school. My sisters could have new dresses on days that weren’t Christmas and Easter, my brothers new shoes, Sal the glasses he needed so badly. My mother always had something to put in the offering plate at church. And once you were in the mob, it wasn’t exactly easy to leave. But they took care of their own. After I died, they sent my mother money for years, until her own children were established enough to support her. That’s when I learned that money wasn’t just something that put food on the dinner table or kept the lights on. It’s a way of showing loyalty, of giving people peace and comfort and meaningful choices in their lives. It’s how I’ve been taught to give back to the world. So I guess I shouldn’t have disparaged my fellow vampires back in Forks, because there’s a slice of my tragic backstory, Baby Swan. Now you know. And you should know everything, since we’re in this thing together. Or maybe I just want you to.”

I laid my palm against his cool and flawless face, ran my thumb lightly across his cheek. “You really are serious about me.”

“I am alarmingly serious about you.”

“Even though this thing of ours has an expiration date?” Since I can never become a vampire. Since I will never have the distinction of being a permanent fixture of the Lee coven.

“That’s not a problem for today. That’s a problem for ten or fifteen years from now, whenever you decide you want to settle down and have kids and do the whole Great American Dream bit. You’ll be sick of me by then anyway. You’ll be dying to get away from us. Hahaha, get it? It’s a pun. Dying to get away from the vampires.”

I couldn’t imagine ever being sick of Joseph Francis Mazzello. Still, ten or fifteen years felt almost as good as forever to me. Fifteen autumns, fifteen Christmases, fifteen journeys around the sun that he avoided so deftly. “Why me, Joe?” I asked, incredulous. “You could have anyone. Any human, any vampire. Why me?”

“Because you’re you,” he said simply. And his mystified dark eyes added: What kind of a question is that? “You’re smart and you’re hilarious and you actually care about the world, about where it came from, about where it’s going, about people and places and animals that you’ll never meet. You’re indomitable. You’re fearless almost to the point of recklessness. And yet you’re so kind. You’re even nice to Ben, and humans are never nice to him...they’re either horrified or confused, or they’re too busy fantasizing about him to remember that he’s a real fucking person. But you’ve always tried to see the good in him. Even when he didn’t deserve it.” Joe shook his head, marveling. “And yeah, I’ve...I’ve screwed around, full disclosure. I’ve done the hookup thing. And it was great for what it was. But I never wanted more. I never felt some gnawing, sentimental, Hallmark-channel need for connection, to understand who they were as people. And then I met you, and...I want to know every single goddamn thing about you. I want to know your favorite color, what books you read, what the hell is so appealing about pineapple pizza, what you dream of. I feel like I could never get tired of trying to understand you.”

A refrain circled through my mind like a whirlpool, dragging every other thought down into oblivion: I love him, I love him, I love him. “Blue,” I said at last.

“What?”

“Turquoise blue, like the sky in Arizona. That’s my favorite color.”

The smile, slow and wonderous, rippled across his face. He took my hand again. “Come on.”

Joe led me onwards, down a few blocks and around a corner, as the muted sun receded from the sky and the first stars took its place, pinpricks of celestial light in a blanket of violet, azure, amber, rust. He stopped in front of the Church of Saint Lawrence, established in 1902 according to the sign mounted on the brick wall that faced the street, perhaps the same church that he had once visited with his family as an impatient child, snickering with his brothers and sisters and kicking the back of the pew in front of him with shoes that never fit quite right. There was a fountain bubbling with transparent water, a statue of the Virgin Mary at the center, coins made of copper and nickel and zinc glinting through the water under corridors of silvery luminance cast by the streetlights.

“I lied about not having my own superpower,” Joe informed me mischievously, not at all serious.

“Oh, did you now?”

“Absolutely.” He opened his wallet, rooted around, pulled out a penny and handed it to me. “I can make wishes come true. So go ahead.” He nodded towards the fountain. “Make your wish.”

The penny was worn and nearly indecipherable, but I was just barely able to read that it had been minted in 1928. The same year Joe was turned. “Joe...I can’t just throw this away!”

“You’re not throwing it away. You’re exchanging it for a wish. Now wish.”

I closed my eyes, chose my wish, tossed the penny into the fountain. The plink it made when it hit the water was bright and yet mournful somehow, like windchimes, like flickering candlelight.

“Outstanding job,” Joe complimented.

He was so visibly proud, so content, so faultless. The streetlights threw shadows across the sidewalk, the fountain, the whole world it seemed. I laced my fingers behind his neck, gazing up at him. “What are we doing tonight, mob guy?”

“I’m so glad you asked. You see, we have options.”

“Let’s hear them.”

“Door Number One,” Joe began. “It’s been a long day, and you’re exhausted from the illustrious honor of witnessing a Cubs victory firsthand. So we go back to the hotel, find some shark documentary on tv, order room service, shower, and drift off into a peaceful slumber. Just like last night.”

“Not bad. How about Door Number Two?”

“Door Number Two. You’re tired, but not that tired. We go back to the hotel, find that same aforementioned shark documentary, but totally ignore it and make out instead. Maybe we even round second base, in the spirit of the Cubs. Whatever you’re up for. Then we shower and drift off into a peaceful slumber.”

“Even better,” I said, and I meant it. “And what’s Door Number Three?”

Now Joe became jittery; his eyes darted to the fountain, the church, the cars that rolled lazily by. He was so desperate to conceal his hope, to not impose any undue influence upon me. I felt infinitesimal, almost weightless drops of rain against my cheeks, my collarbones, the downy undersides of my arms. “Well, uh, Door Number Three is...it’s...well...uh...it’s...”

Door Number Three is a home fucking run. “I want Door Number Three.”

“Really? Because you don’t have to say that, you can say no, that’s completely fine, it’s more than fine actually, it’s awesome, it’s totally cool, I’m seriously fine either way, and you can obviously change your mind whenever—”

“Wait.” I broke away from him, yanked my own wallet out of my purse, found the Official Whatever You Want Pass, hastily unfolded it, and presented it to Joe. “I want Door Number Three.”

He barked out a shocked laugh, accepted the pass, studied it in disbelief. “You are full of surprises, ma’am. It took me a hundred years to find a woman like you. And I don’t think I ever will again. Makes one wonder if this whole eternity thing is all it’s cracked up to be.” He tucked the pass into his pocket and kissed me beneath the streetlights, beneath the stars. “So there’s one tiny caveat to my wish-granting superpower.”

“Yeah?”

He smiled impishly, nudging the tip of my nose with his. “You have to tell me what you wished for.” He was joking, as he almost always was; I didn’t have to tell him anything. He wouldn’t press the issue. I doubted that he was really expecting me to answer at all. And yet I wanted to tell Joe; I yearned, for once, to be as clear as Lucy had said he was.

“For you and me,” I replied in little more than a whisper. “And for forever.”

Home

The only thing that startled me was how profoundly unstartling it all was, how wholly uncomplicated, how effortless.

I didn’t feel like a different person afterwards. I didn’t feel that some latent spark of lust, of carnality had been ignited, had singed through me, had left me forever marked like the heights of children ticked off on a doorframe over decades; I felt neither ruined nor awakened, no wiser, no older, no more enlightened as to the incalculable eccentricities of the vast and enigmatic universe. I felt only happiness, and exhausted satisfaction, and a deep, dreamless peace that engulfed me like frothy fingertips of waves dragging pebbles and shells back into the sea. I felt only a homecoming that was measured not in miles but in soul.

We slept in as the morning sun rose over Lake Michigan, bought Ben a hoodie (black, of course, per his usual aesthetic) from the University of Chicago gift shop, strolled unhurriedly through the dimly-lit, relentlessly blue pathways of the Shedd Aquarium. As I stood in the glass tunnel and watched sawfish and blacktip reef sharks soar by overhead, Joe linked his arms around my waist, tucked his chin into the dip of my collarbone, kissed the slope of my jaw.

“What do you think?” he asked, perhaps a touch apprehensively. “Could you get used to the Chicago life for a few years?”

“I would be tempted to kidnap some of these guys and bring them home to live in our bathtub. But yes.”

And Joe murmured, smiling, his lips to my temple: “That’s illegal, ma’am.”

Our flight back to the West Coast took off after dusk, and there was no blinding sunlight for Joe to avoid; only immense glooms of clouds and gleaming distant stars and the unfathomable void of space, cursed with crushing pressure and darkness like the cervices of the ocean floor.

Fifteen years might not be enough, I thought, resting my forehead against the cold airplane window as the city lights died behind us, as Joe’s hand weaved through mine on the armrest. But forever sounds just about right.

Larkin

There once was a boy born in a stone cottage with a dirt floor in a vanishingly inconsequential village just west of Clifden, Ireland. It was February 9th, 1672, bitterly cold, miserably wet, and the sea was murderous with storms. His mother was illiterate, as her mother had been, and as her mother had been as well, all the way back to people who painted mammoths on cave walls with their fingers; she was thirty-three and already exhausted with living, her seven children forever underfoot, her full and ruddy cheeks perpetually smudged with dirt from the field and ashes from the fire. Her husband was a failure and a drunk, but half a day’s worth of work once or twice a week was better than none at all; and as much as she never would have admitted it, he was a tether for her in a world that was often, as she had learned, both lonely and cruel.

She gave the baby boy a name—a strong Irish name, none of that audacious English rubbish—that meant rough or fierce, just like the sea that rose and ruptured against the rocky cliffs outside. He would need to be rough to survive in this world. He would need to be fierce.

He began like all the other children had been: sweet and yet anonymous, yielding, needful, worryingly small. She rocked him absently with one arm as she stirred the stew pot with the other. She sang to him, told him stories long before he could comprehend them, tales of the Lord and the saints and all their malevolent adversaries: serpents, pestilence, demons, dragons. She tossed stray sticks to him so he could carve pictures into the dirt floor and keep out of the way as she labored with the laundry or the sewing. And he grew, and he grew; and there was nothing remarkable about him at all, that boy speckled with mud and soot and the perpetual bruises of children mostly left to their own devices, that boy with pallid skin like his mother’s and black hair like his father’s and eyes so light and vibrant a brown they were nearly gold.

The boy was a baby, and then a child, and then a young man. And his mother realized one day—all at once, as a mother does when their attention is divided among so many other lives, when the children’s analogous faces bleed into each other and even their names sometimes escape her, even those names that she had chosen herself from the stories her own mother once passed to her through threadbare whispers—that people had a habit of following him, of listening to him. That there was an ether of allure that hovered around him like the mists that clung to the precarious, crumbling cliffs that touched the sea; that there was something like what the heathens called magic. And when the war came, that boy who was no longer a boy left his mother’s stone cottage and enlisted in Clifden, lied about his age, signed his name with an X because that was all he knew how to spell. But he was sure to tell the man who handled the ledger that he did have a real name, a good Irish name, a name apt for a soldier, a name that his mother had told him meant rough or fierce: Larkin.

There are men who join wars out of loyalty, principle, love for their homes; and then there are men who join to escape their homes, perhaps to forget them entirely. If you were to consult that ledger signed in a pub in Clifden, Ireland in 1688, you would read that I fought for Ireland, for the Catholics, for Christ the Lord and all his saints. But what I really fought for was my own resurrection: to take that boy stained with dirt and ignorance, drown him in the blood of other mothers’ trivial sons, and dredge up some greater version of myself that I had always known existed, that was hidden somewhere in the netlike darkness of the marrow of my bones.

People follow me, and they always have. I couldn’t tell you why. When I called them to enlist, when I thrusted swords and pikes into their calloused farmers’ fists, when I told them they could fight and live to see their wretched homes again, they believed me. I climbed the ranks like a ladder, like a mountain made of bones. And all those other mothers’ sons laid down for me so I could walk across the bridge of their spines to what I mistakenly assumed was invincibility.

At the Battle Of The Boyne, my horse was shot out from under me. A Williamite caught me beneath the ribs with his dagger. And as I bled out, staring up at the sky and impatiently waiting for the pain to vanish as my consciousness withdrew like low tide, I became aware that someone was lifting me, holding me, spiriting me through the battlefield and then the wilderness; and that my pain, in a disconcerting turn of events, had swelled to a vicious and unrelenting inferno.  

Three days later, I woke to find that I was resurrected again, this time as something more than human. The man who turned me was blond-haired, light-eyed, agile and yet gentle, ancient and yet ever-changing.

“I thought you’d survive,” Nikolai said in a thick Slavic accent, standing over me with a kind smile. Then he helped me to my feet. “You have greatness in you. It sweats out of your pores, it’s in every word you speak. What a shame it would be for all of that to go to waste.”

He taught me everything: how to read and write, how to hunt, how to dodge the sunlight, how to survive an existence that was both theoretically endless and yet forever on the precipice of being cut short. He introduced me to the Draghi, to vampires who were remarkable for their ferocity, or their creativity, or their curiosity, or their cleverness, or all those things at once: Victorien, Honora, Elizabeth, Kestrel, Zhang, Sergei, Ana, Gwilym. And most crucially, Nikolai showed me that my human talents were magnified several times over, that his own followers were not immune to them, that there was power in collecting exceptional individuals like pieces of china stacked in a locked cabinet; and that if I could learn to climb immortal bones, the ladder never needed to end.  

You never quite get used to the power, to the invincibility, to the promise of eternity. You never take it for granted. It hits you, again and again, in ceaseless and victorious waves. Once I was a barefoot toddler who sketched dragons and Catholic saints from the stories my mother told me into the dirt floor of our drafty stone cottage. Now I live in palaces with marble floors, with spiral staircases and libraries and gold-dripping ballrooms, with unobstructed views of any sea I choose. Now I am the dragon.

My phone rang, and I checked the name on the screen. Then I answered. “Hello, beauty. How’s the other side of the Pacific treating you?”

And Liesl answered, in a soft and astonished voice: “I don’t think Lucy can read her. I don’t think any of them can.”

I could feel it again. Another wave, crashing through me like the ocean, like the unstoppable rolling of time: power and insatiability and exhilaration. I smiled in my twilight-lit study as long-dead stars rose outside and the wind howled like wolves over the East Sea. “You know what to do.”

[jin-fluenced]

Jin-fluenced’s May Recs

Fics I read throughout the month of May thinking I must have done something amazing at some point in my life to be blessed with these … I can’t believe you guys are letting us read your work for free.

Kim Seokjin

Half-Baked Holiday @ddaenggtan​ – Bakery a.u. F2L, I2L (idiots to lovers) (fluff/smut/slight angst) | The Snow Ball Effect Project | What I love about this project: I love, love, love this project! The way everyone story is told independently; the way each story is unique with its own quirks and twists and the humor! Oh, the humor! The way I understand it the stories are written by four different authors but the way it all comes together and it fits so well, and how they have represented each respective member’s personality and quality so exquisitely and they are all referenced throughout the story even before they meet up at Tae’s cabin. I am sure I will think about this project for years to come, I really have not read anything like this before. What I love about this fic: They really are idiots; adorable idiots in love. Throughout the entirety of this fic I was shouting at them to JUST KISS! JUST DO IT! Jin was so understanding, so patient and so accepting of y/n – a true king.

2,561 Days @gossamie​ – marriage a.u. (angst with a touch of fluff) Summary: Two years of marriage could not stop the relationship from falling apart. As an attempt to seek closure before the divorce, Seokjin and you retrace your seven years together. What I love about this fic: the way the author writes angst, the fic is so well written and structured. Each scene made my heart break all over again. This is art.

Min Yoongi

Sugar @seokjxnnie​ – CEO, escort, office a.u. (smut) Summary: executive assistant to Min Yoongi by day and secret escort by night, the two separate elements of her life spiral into entwinement when her boss accidentally walks in on her taking a sex call with a sugar daddy. What I love about this fic: this one particular scene where y/n is on the phone and Yoongi is watching her …. *fans myself*

I’ll Float Away @ppersonna​ – Post-breakup, idol a.u. (very heavy angst, smut, fluff) Summary: years after the breakup, Yoongi, a successful award-winning rapper with an unhealthy addiction finds your wedding invite on Facebook. What I love about this fic: Character development. The way Yoongs grew as a person and overcame his struggles – truly inspiring.

Jung Hoseok

The Worst Wonderful Time of The Year @lamourche​ – Christmas/office a.u. (fluff/with a hint of smut) What I love about this fic: y/n was so close to titling her life as ‘a series of unfortunate events’ but then she meets Hobi and he made those unfortunate events a lot more bearable and liked her for the loveable, funny, clumsy person she is (with a super ability to make babies cry).

The Holiday: Unplugged @gukslut – Established relationship a.u. (sluff/smut/humor) What I love about this fic: their relationship, man … Their dynamic and the fact that they don’t need anyone else as long as they have each other. Therapist Jiminie and Hobi is a noteworthy conversation. I too would moan thinking about Jung Hoseok fucking me.

Kim Namjoon

Phantom Pains @fortunexkookie​ – Ghost a.u. (smut/fluff/angst) Summary: Namjoon had lived his entire life a certain kind of way - slowly, thoughtfully, and cautiously - and one moment of carelessness was all it took for it to end. He thought his death had come before he was ready, stealing his chance to figure out what he’d been missing. It wasn’t until he met you that he realized he’d been wrong all along. His life hadn’t ended a moment too soon. In fact, it had ended just in time to save yours. What I love about this fic: the author said this was going to be bittersweet so I braced myself but boy, I did not expect to weep like that. It’s so heart wrenching and hauntingly (pun intended) beautiful. Their love is so pure … fate can be such a cruel bitch. The way the author illustrated it I could feel what it was like for Joon to touch y/n for the first time, and my stomach twisted knowing that he would give anything to be able to really touch her.

All Aboard! (The Passion Express) @ve1vetyoongi – Office a.u. E2L (smut) Summary: There were not many things that got your blood boiling in the same way that two simple words could. Kim Namjoon. The name of your irritating and (unfortunately enough, as the universe would have it) incredibly handsome co-worker. Which is exactly why you never expected to find yourself on your knees for him on the train home. What I love about this fic: ZADDY JOON! THE FILTH! Man, what I would give for Joon to treat me like the filthy slut I am ON A TRAIN!

Midnight Wishes @ddaenggtan​ – Friend w/ Benefits, roommates, co-workers a.u. I2L (fluff/smut/angst) | The Snow Ball Effect Project | What I love about this fic: How can two people so smart be absolute idiots when it comes to each other? I would give my left arm and both legs for Namjoon to call me slick, and ask me if I want it – because yes, yes, I do want him to fuck me stupid. I relate to y/n when it comes to pining and the butterflies and the clenching when it comes to Joon.

Park Jimin

Snow Don’t Tell @stutterfly – Neighbours a.u. F2L (fluff/smut/humour) | The Snow Ball Effect Project | What I love about this fic: The. Build. Up! The way they were already there and so in love with each other at the beginning of the fic, to them finally caving … I was blown. Jimin is so seductive, playful and loving at the same time, and their sense of humour and the constant teasing back and forth; I am weak!

Gratuitous Redemption @minjoonalist​ – Divorce a.u. (smut/angst/fluff?) Summary: Jimin is Innocent when it comes to his wife’s accusations and as stubborn as she is, the man refuses to go down without a fight. What I love about this fic: The angst. I cried like a little baby … I felt absolutely crushed.

I’ll Lead (and you have no choice) @boxysmiles [AO3] Summary: Park Jimin has always had taken comfort in his soulmate. Knowing that someone out there is connected to him through the red string tied around their fingers. Kim Taehyung, however, likes to make his life a lot more interesting. Because Kim Taehyung’s string isn’t around his finger. It’s around his neck. What I love about this fic: The way I cried, first I cried for Taehyung, then I cried for Jimin, then I cried because there was nothing they could do about it. Truly a masterpiece.

Kim Taehyung

Extracurricular @ppersonna –  Professor, student a.u. (smut) Summary: Your professor Kim Taehyung is on the final key to securing your spot in the top 5% of your graduating class. What I love about this fic: I can’t go to class without thinking about Professor Kim Taehyung bending me over his desk.

Misconceptions @softjimin – Member x member (AO3) Summary: ‘So, Jimin has a daddy kink. Namjoon hyung, can you pass me the salt? Thanks’ What I love about this fic: Taetae, bless his soul, tried so hard to keep it in his pants.

Picking Flowers @jamaisjoons​ – Hanahaki, Neighbours a.u. F2L Summary: in the seven years you’ve been away, love had caused flowers to bloom in Taehyung’s chest only for them to wilt when she’d left him. when you meet Taehyung again, he doesn’t know what love is and more importantly, doesn’t know how to love or if he can ever love again. can you teach him? or will a garden of unrequited love blossom within the confines of your own chest? What I love about this fic: Everything, there is not a single thing I don’t absolutely adore. I don’t have the words to describe the way it made me feel. Please give lots of love to Solar.

Cheap skate @gukslut - Established relationship, domestic a.u. (fluff, smut, humor)  What I love about this fic: THIS COUPLE! Reading about their relationship is the equivalent of having hot coffee, toast and sunny-side-up eggs for breakfast on Saturday. 

Jeon Jungkook

Frost Impressions @fortunexkookie​ – Teachers, Gamers a.u. E2L/F2L (fluff/smut/heavy pining/slight angst) What I love about this fic: Absolute-mess-Jeon-Jungkookie! The humour – the author really nailed the humour. This is one of the best fics I have ever read. The second hand embarrassment was so real! *insert your mind it amazes me picture here*. I am fucking sorry at how smitten I am with these characters.

Little Wolf, Pretty Wolf, Your Wolf @readyplayerhobi (fluff/smut/angst) What I love about this fic: I have read a LOT of werewolf a.u., but this fic takes the cake! I joke about how there is a certain cliché to werewolf a.us but what I got from this fic is not what I expected at all going into it. I love the way y/ n and JK complimented each other, how supportive they were. She did it again you guys … I am in love.

[wr173r-8l0ck]

What if My Hero Academia Characters were in Fairy Tail pt. 1: The Students

So yeah, there will be more parts to this one, hope y’all enjoy this series!

The premise of this What If [insert show] Characters were in [insert other show] is to basically explore what each character might be in a different show with different worldbuilding/whatever. Case and point, what if MHA students were Mages in the world of Fairy Tail. In this one, I’m covering the students of 1A and 1B, and also Shinso, primarily what their primary magic would be, and basic comedic traits and quirks of their characters. Enjoy!

Yuga Aoyama: Light Magic: He can fire out high-power bolts of light from any part of his body. For some reason, he likes to use his naval though. Whatever suits him, we have enough stuff to complain about. Mainly his French stereotypes.

Mina Ashido: Acid Magic: she can utilize spells to produce a highly corrosive fluid, which she can manipulate freely. She has such fine control she can select what she can corrode away. Yeah, clothes never last long with her around.

Tsuyu Asui: Animal Takeover: Amphibian: she can turn into a frog-person. Or a toad-person. Or a toadpool-person. Look, it gets confusing, okay, all we know is she can make her tongue super-long, her legs super-strong, and she’s fucking adorable.

Tenya Iida: Thrust Magic: he can propel himself waaay faster that anyone should, in any direction, even up. In straight lines and proper angles only too, for some reason, seriously, his turning radius is so sharp you can literally cut yourself on the afterwind.

Ochako Uraraka: Anti-Gravity Magic: she can reduce the gravitational pull on anyone and anything she touches. And apply it to anyone or anything else. She likes making orbits around people.

Mashirao Ojiro: Animal Takeover: Kangaroo: All he gets is a tail. And kicks powerful enough to break down a reinforced door in a single kick. And abs strong enough to resist a kick powerful enough to break down a reinforced door in a single kick. He’s a pretty chill dude though.

Denki Kaminari: Electricity Magic: Haha, finger-tazer go zip-zip. And channeling/producing lightning and various electromagnetic wavelengths. Including gamma radiation. And also heat. We suspect he might also be a Lightning something-something slayer, but we can’t be sure since his intellect seems to vary between absolute dumbass and strategic genius, seriously, what the fuck is he?!

Eijiro Kirishima: Armor Dragon Slayer: He can make himself unbreakable. Literally, he once survived a point-blank explosion with the power of a Tsar Bomba, only directed in a cylinder half the diameter of a golf ball. To the face. And he lived through that. And somehow he’s still friends with the guy that set off a point-blank explosion in a cylinder half the diameter of a golf ball into his face. Weird fella indeed.

Koji Koda: Voice Command Magic: Yeah, he can communicate with and boss around animals and even motherfucking DRAGONS. And some Dragon Slayers. Don’t try his tricks at home, kids, tigers are fucking ripped, hippos are more aggressive than crocodiles, and Katsuki is a walking grenade with anger issues.

Rikido Sato: Sugar Magic: Like… He eats sugar… To burn as calories… To gain increased strength and speed… That’s it, literally, dump a bag of sugar into his mouth and you have a less angry version of the Hulk with diabetes.

Mezo Shoji: Beast Takeover: He likes multiplying his arms. And making them into tentacles or spider legs. Also other things, but mostly tentacles or spider legs. Sometimes even other things on tentacles or spider legs. Or just tentacles or spider legs on other tentacles or spider legs. He’s a walking man-tree with branches that are various sensory organs growing from a nightmarish living moving mass with tentacles/spider legs as branches, basically. *shudders*

Kyoka Jiro: Sound Magic: Deafeningly deadly tunes! Literally, deafeningly deadly sounds, she can blast sounds so loud they’re basically constant or repetitive explosions. Either she’s immune to it or she likes it, who knows, all we know is that she’s into hardcore death metal and yet still somehow cute. Don’t say it to her face if you value your kneecaps.

Hanta Sero: Tape Magic: exactly what it sounds like. What tape does his magic cover? Yes. Is he ever high? Yes, all the time. Oh, you meant physically.

Fumikage Tokoyami: Shadow Demon Slayer and Demon Takeover: Darkness: he has a semi-sentient demon made of pure shadows and darkness growing out of his stomach! It’s pretty tame and chill normally, yes, but he has a semi-sentient demon made of pure shadows and darkness growing out of his stomach! Let him go on nighttime solo quests alone if you wanna live. Or not shit your pants bc of a prank the semi-sentient shadow demon thing pulled. Mostly the second one.

Shoto Todoroki: Fire/Ice God Slayer and Fire/Ice Make Magic: He can eat ice or fire to gain the ability to control fire and ice to such an extent it can kill demons. Well, verbally too, he once roasted an opponent so hard they just gave up without even fighting and just walked off. Also, are we sure we can’t put Daddy Issues as a form of magic?

Toru Hagakure: Refraction Magic: she can refract light around herself to make herself invisible, or focus and redirect it. She’s the guild’s gem! Literally, she’s like a polished crystal prism but with an active (and often dirty) imagination.

Katsuki Bakugou: Explosion Magic, Explosion Dragon/Demon/God Slayer, also currently studying all types of Fire Magic. He likes it when things he doesn’t like get destroyed by his hands. And when people he doesn’t like get destroyed by his hands. Or words, he can be really mean in a fight. Well, about as mean as a nuclear hedgehog with rabies and enough explosive firepower to take out a building in one shot can get.

Izuku Midoriya: He was given the All-Slayer Lacrima, and can use Strength Dragon/Demon/God, Speed Dragon/Demon/God and Wind Dragon/Demon/God Slayer magic, learning more as he goes. If he uses too much, he risks destroying his own body. Speaking of which, I gotta go get Recovery Girl for his bullshit. Again.

Minoru Mineta: Dead. Not from a quest, his harassment got him killed. How? Well, the last girl he was hitting on was named Lucy Heartfilia. Legally he’s still a missing person, since there’s no body, but the witnesses say there was a massive bonfire where he was last seen.

Momo Yaoyorozu: Memory-Make Magic: she can do various spells as long as she remembers it and has enough Ether in her body, and even combine spells. There’s a damn good reason she’s S-class, and no, it’s not her social awareness.

Yosetsu Awase: Fuse Magic: He can fuse various objects, people and spells to each other. Doesn’t matter what each is. He once fused Katsuki and Midoriya together. Almost destroyed a whole island...

Sen Kaibara: Gyration Magic: He can make himself, parts of himself or anything he touches rotate around a set axis, and he can control the direction and speed of the spin. He’s often invited to schools to demonstrate the dangers of alcohol. Or used as a replacement for the engine to a carousel.

Togaru Kamakiri: Blade Dragon Slayer: He can form various blades sharp and tough enough to cut through dragons. Except Kirishima and Tetsutetsu, since they require so much effort to even crack, anyone more powerful and battle-effective than himself (Katsuki, Shoto etc.) or anyone too cute for him to cut down (Tsuyu and Midoriya primarily)

Shihai Kuroiro: Shadow Dragon Slayer: he can manipulate shadows and melt into them, popping out in any place he wants. Him and Fumikage are good friends for obvious reasons. He’s also very good at pranks, and one of the few people to be able to say he fought Katsuki and lived.

Itsuka Kendo: Enlargement Magic: She can increase the size of herself or her body parts, she uses it mostly on her hands for devastating attacks. Well, attacks or, ahem, bedtime exercises. 

Yui Kodai: Command T: She can manipulate the size of any object she touches. Bigger and smaller. That and shape, somehow, don’t ask how she can do that, no one knows.

Kinoko Komori: Mushroom Magic: She can create, spread and accelerate the growth of various mushrooms and other fungi. She’s also really cute somehow, but also fucking terrifying in a fight.

Ibara Shiozaki: Plant Magic: She has thorny vines growing out of her hair, and can manipulate all plantlife, including her hair vines. Don’t ask how she got vines for hair, magic is weird...

Jurota Shishida: Beast Takeover: he uses his magic to turn into various beasts and monsters, primarily a bipedal bear-boar-dog creature. He’s actually very orderly and the most collected and ‘normal’ of the crowd. Which isn’t a high bar to clear, all things considered.

Nirengeki Shoda: Repeat Magic: he can copy an attack, magic or physical, and trigger it to go off a second time from where it previously hit. Many people don’t like him for that reason.

Pony Tsunotori: Animal Takeover: she likes to use Animal Takeover, specifically Antelope and Kangaroo, both of them often together. She kicks like a fucking kangaroo though.

Kosei Tsuburaba: Air-Make Magic: He can form constructs out of air, and manipulate their density and movement freely. He’s the only one that can tolerate Monoma, and even that’s a bit of a stretch to that word’s definition.

Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu: Iron Dragon Slayer: Pretty self-explanatory: he can turn his body into an iron-like substance that is actually waaay tougher than regular iron, and can redirect purely-magic attacks into the ground through his body, and he can form various weapons and attacks. Very manly, a vegetarian, kind to animals, and will eat any spare iron you have.

Setsuna Tokage: Split-Up Magic: She can separate parts of herself and telekinetically and telepathically control them. She can even fly like that, or form her split body parts into mini  versions of herself. Truly annoying to fight, especially with her Requip Magic.

Manga Fukidashi: Various forms of Letter Magic: He can write down anything in any alphabet or language, and it appears like magic! B-because it is magic, like, all of this is magic, nothing is real!

Juzo Honenuki: Liquification Magic: He can disrupt the solidity of any object he touches, and thus makes it intangible or almost a highly-viscous liquid. The only other known person to be able to reliably stop Katsuki whenever he goes berserk. Which happens a lot.

Kojiro Bondo: Glue Magic: He can produce and manipulate adhesives. Any and all types of adhesives. Not tape, apparently it counts as an adhesive-covered object (Laaame!). But still cool, I guess.

Neito Monoma: Ether Copy and Ether Replicate Magic: He can copy virtually any type of ether-based magic, however he can’t replicate magic sourced from a lacrima or a build-up of Ether. He often gets KO’ed by Itsuka for being a prick.

Reiko Yanagi: Telekinesis Magic: She can control any non-living object in her vicinity, however not if it’s too heavy. Her and Ochako are a literally lethal combo, and the most surprisingly terrifying duo.

Hiryu Rin: Reptile Takeover: He can obtain the characteristics of reptiles: tail, scales, armor, jaws, claws, fangs/teeth, even tear projectiles of blood from his eyes! Yeah, he doesn’t use that last one a lot, but he can shoot out his scales like projectiles.

Hitoshi Shinso: Brainwash Magic: he can hypnotize and verbally command anyone that answers his questions, and he can even manipulate his voice to sound like anyone else. The one downside to this is insomnia, but his insomnia can be cured by caffeine, or so he claims. We’ve had to get him from strange sleeping locations on multiple occasions, including rooftops, rafters, clothing lines (yes, he can somehow balance on a tightrope in his sleep), another fucking city one time...

[eivbiblepoemsandorarticles]

TheSubjectArticle Bible LegalBriefClassics ProofPositivePoems Ch3 Inspiration/Encouragement Pg.406 on a Scale of "5" the(13th Page) is Poem Brief "Hall of Fame & Family Toni Esposito" Body of the Poem from Start to Finish Poem Inside a Poem Do We need to improve it.....

SAM Esposito Baseball Hall of Fame & Family…Dad of Toni Esposito

One of the few major league Athletes who stayed on One Major League Baseball Team His Entire Career at North Carolina State is where He played his Collegiate Baseball (1 of 10)

before Becoming a 3rd Baseman for the Chicago White Sox Major League Baseball Team. He was an Excellent Family Man with a Loving Wife & Sports Minded Children with a Big Appetite for Success. (2 of 10)

If, DNA played a part, it may of Skipped a Generation…for her & her ____Dedication Throbbing ____Recipe Thumping ____Short Term Turning Expense Paying ____Thumper of a Heart Saugatuck Back Flip (3 of 10)

I Guess We had a Smooth Start to a Smooth Finish June made Up Spring ____Summer Heat July Ring ____If Victory was ours ____Knight Up.....Toni, Toni, Toni, Dear Toni ____Sensation Adulation Heartfelt Temptation Chest2Chest Bring it Back Nature's Harmony____ (4 of 10)

38DTD---25Rounds of Motion Offense Natural Play---38Wide Defensive Hip Flexors that more than Slide 5’9” Match Play DDD Hips 153 Pounds of Watermelon Cantaloupe Melons also deserve Legend making Guacamole Saugatuck Holy Ground Mix Healthy Caught Up Weight Make it up… (5 of 10)

Catch up…Back it up…Can you…? Did he… Did U…. How the Imaginations knows how the Heart Goes…I Never Broke our Codes of Silence and or Bond…I Never Did tell Anybody ____Your Donut Dunkin was better with Semi Truck Cab Participation (6 of 10)

than Starbuck Good indulging in Good Favorite T.V. Shows Line Up Unapologetic Taste ____As Good As Real Good.....What did We See or do...? What did U see or do...? How ____Good was the____Approach was it ____on Course…? And Darlinggg ____if it was Good as Jeopardy.... (7 of 10)

We was Never looking down. And right there where we stood was holy grounddddd Our School Years…..UNCW…. Daddy’s Little Girl many Skills Foot Speed Snail like Aloof… 3 Point Shooter 2 Guard Tri-Delta or Chi Omega (8 of 10)

was it the Spring Cottage The Beach House or the Summer Loft Wrightsville Beach Next Door Neighbor Gated Community Beach Dedication Elation Vibration Excessive Feelings or Flirtation or Alarm (9 of 10)

I transferred to Chapel Hill University of North Carolina Fall 1997… Why did U Run____...? Knight Him….Didn’t Even Invite Him Until 2 Years Later… ____I Just Wanted to ____Slowdown & Go Skiing….me too.... (10 of 10)

The Fiend to Phenomenal…the Venture to Success ____Phenom or Female Imagination could of Set in or ____We Could of Adapted to Your Songbird Wilderness Imagination Did We Set it Off.…____ (11 of 22)

And Darlinggg ____the more I Prayed through the more God came through.... Never looking down. And right there where We Stood was Holy Grounddddd I Gave Him the ____Hippie Mood Good Job Coasting it was a Rollercoaster like Ride (12 of 22)

____2nd Time not a Goal ____Love Affection Appreciates Shake Off Return Dream Your Dream Dailed in Rock like Joint Forces ____"Boom" Special Services ____in Consideration to My Coaching & his ____Toe Tapping Hit Snooze Dropped Toe Touching (13 of 22)

Resurrection Trucking Pulpit ____the Sun Resurrected me into Coaching & ____him Driving ____Service Appreciation ____God like Services was Appreciated. “ I ____Tipped Him Off Andrea's Fault Love Shook me &or Him to Its Core (14 of 22)

by more ____than Participation Grading Remarks &or Coaching…” The Mid-Night Lifestyle was Never to much Love & Family Trepidation Revelation ____Aloft Foot Speed if She had Make Up Notes… We Always Danced to Each Other’s Tunes (15 of 22)

Do U Remember ____Bessie’s Dance Floor on Front Street Grind on Grind Off We Sent We Spent Going Away Movie Time____Sweating the ____Entire Time ____No Future in Our ____Fronting SugarBeat Spring ____1996 1997____ (16 of 22)

If it Required No Panties OUR Answer Must of Been OMG Invest in me.....Did U or I set it Up or Off Well Wishing Real Life Skills ____Perfection Drills Perfection…? ____Fork in the Road Full Size Took Off Laid Back Relaxed Suspended Shoulder & Ankles He was Full Tilted (17 of 22)

& I on a Timing Throttled Laid Back 90 Degree Angle Adjacent____Leaning Pace into & out of & onto Driving Box Squat from Deer Stand Two Ways He Could of ____Drove 4 Three Hours Done the P Pop No Tap Out No Water Breaks Wet Water is Friction____ (18 of 22)

a Sensual Heated Hot Fission was it her Mission.…She Tapped out at 45Minutes Mid Adjacent Perpendicular like Choppa 5 Feet in the Air ____Where Parallels Last Longer than Mid Night Showers Let's Go Bare Naked Moon Stick a Fork in me I was Done Call me Old Fashion____ (19 of 22)

Catcher of the Rye She Tapped Out at Noon…Mid Lateral to Ground Perpendicular to Parallel U only loved me 4my Big Sunglasses Little Red Wagon Teepee…U did most all the Inventing We Backed it up…You the Inventor of I Got Plans about Sleepover Career Nightstand____ (20 of 22)

____Dr.Johnson Banana Slamming Potassium Non indigenous people still Say ____Liquid Plasma also Saves Lives Release Creative Calling Your Tribe or My imagination feelings & Sighted that what has Never been seen does not mean it can’t be Done Inventions… (21 of 22)

SheMoreThan Invited PositionCall of Sight &or PerfectionWellDeserved BoomboxHousingExpert Leggo Tow2Toe Inventions WereWe in theMiddle of SpaceSuspendedTogether HoldingEachOtherUp On a Wall or WereWe in theMiddle of theCarlos Carlos Carlos Carlos or was thatThe 1 Time (22 of 22)

I was Thanking Toni Do you Remember our Freshman & Sophomore Year ____1995 to 1997 UNCW…I said or thought…. ____you or me were 5 Years Away from a Wedding Cake….. (23 of 33)

____When We let the Cat out the Bag ____Funding our Travel Issues Miss You Much August 1997 during ____The Missionary Event before the Big Move In & Out of Deer Stands ____not after the Final Finish or the ____Finale…” (24 of 33)

I had never seen the or that Personality come up out of you…” ____Carlos Carlos Carlos Carlos Carlos ____Good is Good & God is Good ____Okay & in the Name of Jesus____Merry a ____Shaolin Monk____They Got Timing ____They Got Precision____ (25 of 33)

____Gracious Goodness We was the Who's who of the Who's who who got Faded you ____Showed me…. I Thought Summer of 1998 What a Surprise Dream Big ____Apparently me too… (26 of 33)

“…I Said No…? You Said….but I want too..... Did I think ____Wow Let's Taco about it Go Ahead take your taste buds South of the Border to Lil Italy…? (27 of 33)

____There she goes Again ____looking at my… ____me looking at her Amazing… ____Wow Everything…was ____Wow Was Everything Amazing like 11 Days without Water….. 40 Days Without Rain….? (28 of 33)

WATER… Knight Him…The Sports Deity God King Him One Nation Indivisible with Liberty & Justice for All….I Almost did…Pledge…I Almost did Say the… I Almost did Say the Pledge of… (29 of 33)

I Almost did Say the Pledge of Allegiance Outloud like you ____to Myself to the Bounce of all Your Guacamole Melon Sugar Beat Mix Assisted The Einstein Conscious ____Sugaratuck Body Cleanse Photographic Nuclear Remix Mind Codes Southern Foundation (30 of 33)

Holdings Atomic Entities Melon Guacamole Watermelon Wisdom Wisdom Charismatic Means I never got to tell you ____from my Personal Private Solo Shared Perspective the View of what We Shared... ThroughEachOther ThroughEachOther’s Eyes of (31 of 33)

What I saw &how I KeptGoing &Why…I just Couldn’t let you down Smiling &Holding all the United Kingdom Royal TakeOn HealthyJuggle HughPresentationals Hammock Took &Booked Automotive Joys of Love Making Music Gifts of Motherhood & Life Seemed (32 of 33)

Presidential Southern Staples Seen Prudential Saw Free Willing 3 Wheeling was it Hot in Cleveland Big League Presentations Grab 'em Twice or Clutch Once ____Big Hug Flotations Order Ahead May Flower March Winds Rodeo Perception Surprise 21...TheTrophy Girlfriend 1976… (33 of 33)

As if all in One Hand Your Request Pick me up ____from The Buck it is Your Move I never did it ever again it must of been Your Request that Done it ____Medically 153 Pounds is alot of Weight for that movement in positions (34 of 46)

____Ginger Bread Cookie Dough Slamming ____Presidentual or Prudential Insurance more than her own Boost me Up Surprise… Hold me Up Hold Up Don’t Drop me Holdem Together those Female ____Toni Sopranos ____Do Little... (35 of 46)

Don't Knock Yourself out Osha As if the Hawaiian Carolina Sun was coming through the Big Windows causing all of the Heat and Water Sweating all over me ____in Back-up and or in Pure Production… (36 of 46)

Perfect they wereLARGE you did YourJob you kept himGoing… I AlwaysThought after it…Perfection…What a Fucking Workout Hope you Enjoyed.... theScenry &Communication was Unreal you Kept me Laughing "OMFG" Salami &Chips has No Feelings from Fucking when doing BenchSquats (37 of 46)

Who the CHAMPION….? Who the Championship…? Who the Co-Captains to the Champions….? How Many Championships We need….? Who Made the Champs…? Who the Pilot…? Who the Pistol…? Who got the Guns…? (38 of 46)

Who the Navigator…? Who Taxed that….? Who throw it back…? Who Taxied the Prepositional…? Who Giggled on & off with in the G-Force of Hurricane…As if…As…Who put the Bump in the Thump..? The Ride in Thighs… (39 of 46)

The Locomotion to Train…Treble Base Throb also Triple Threat in My D Major… Minor Major Minor Opera Alto to Equalizer Pitching to Jack Knife Almost Black Jacked 19____ (40 of 46)

____ The 1 Time my Backbone Held Up Constant Hold with___Visual Eye Contact in Doggy Style ____Charger We Changed Up the ____Buck ____and The Rise in Surprise ____and The Motion in Phenom (41 of 46)

the Real Good Better than Good Understood Friendship in Each Other’s Eyes… ____You Kept Me Motivated The Mirror was Yours…Who Throw it Back…? Who Taxied…? Who didn’t need no Liquor…? (42 of 46)

Tenor Clef C-Clefs Alto Clef Baritone Clef Mezzo-Soprano Clef Soprano Clef Treble'N Bass My Sweet Esposito…The Combined MVP’s Do We need to make time… Whose Imagination was the Fire Starter (43 of 46)

“… Staff & Rod… Who was theFireStarter to theFirecracker 4th of July Independent LibertyBowl GiveGivenGave…Release BS Bowl Bombay Sapphire Sweet Treat Who was Hitting What was Written for the World Record Co-Champs &or Do WeStill Hold the Sights &Sounds HistoryTitle…? (44 of 46)

If WeStill HoldTheTitle....WhoGotTheMost ExerciseCreativity…? WhoGot theMostCreativity…? WhoGot theMostCreative PastGirlfriend &or DidWeJust MakeTheMost out of Summer Imaginations &or HeatSyncing BattleshipReady MakeBelieve MayBelieve ____PositionRulesTraining (45 of 46)

Hot Damn One Helluva Weekend for Nodding & Posterity Give me me Give me Mine I Love to Own Did We Belong in Each Others Favorite Lifestyles…Ship me me Ship me Mine My My My We started out Standing on Holy Grown the Second Time Around….Remained me Remained Mine.... (46 of 46)

TheSubjectArticle Bible LegalBriefClassics Ch.3 Pg.406 on a Scale of "5" the(13th Page) is Poem Brief "Hall of Fame & Family Toni Esposito" Body of the Poem from Start to Finish Poem Inside a Poem Do We need to improve it.....I am unable to make corrections on hard copies.....

The Subject Article Bible Legal Brief Classics Proof Positive Poems Ch.3 the Book of Inspiration & Encouragement of Optimism Actions or Opportunities Pg.407 on a Scale of "5" the (13th Page) is Poem Brief "Hall of Fame & Family Toni Esposito" ____ https://t.co/cRr001347B

[bartsugsy]

Ok, so ive been out of the Robron loop pretty much since 'The Incident' tm for various reasons, but ive been dipping in and out recently to see if the madness has continued and it looks like the worlds gone mental. Is there any way you could do a quick round-up of the events of the last month just so i can know what the heckles is going on?? Pretty please.

where… to start….

i know u said last month but time is meaningless so im just gonna give u the full jammy run down:

so our dear robert sugden, freshly single and hating every second of it, has set his sights on getting home farm and all the money and power that surely goes along with it - robert’s OG goal, i’m sure you’ll remember, that he had spent years working towards, before aaron came along and ruined everything by making robert feel inconvenient things like ‘happiness’ and ‘love’

rob sets the whole thing in motion when lawrence white, henceforth known as sugar daddy larry, suffers a hella convenient stroke because he’s always two steps away from death but never quite close enough. rob breaks into home farm and slips some sleeping pills into sugar daddy larry’s scotch - a drink his ex-fiance ronnie gave him that he has been indulging in bc alcohol numbs the pain of being alone. larry ends up in a permanent drunk and drugged out stupor whilst trying to recover from his stroke and rebecca is left to run home farm all by herself, because who needs employees when u have unqualified family.

chrissie would help, except at this point she doesn’t care about her family and is living her best life in the village doing… something and lookin fine. 

robert takes sugar daddy larry’s absence as a way to slide right into home farm and offers rebecca help and support, using the convenient excuse of her carrying his unborn son that he totally loves and cares for and is absolutely excited about oh boy howdy. rebecca gladly accepts this because she’s just one person and also because rob hired uncle tim to break into home farm and silently terrorise rebecca for a few days or whatever, just to put her on edge.

home farm is losing money and clients left, right and centre, because rebecca is single-handedly running a company she’s never even worked at before with literally no help, which is insane. someone contacts her about potentially investing in home farm by buying 30% - a wonderful lady named kath, from the company ‘rug tree bonds’, a very real and not at all unsubtle company that definitely exists in a legitimate and not even slightly suspicious way.

the company obviously belongs to robert sugden, because. well, of course it does.

anyway, somewhere along the way, sugar daddy larry starts to get better and doesn’t spend every waking minute buzzed out of his skull on sleeping pills and scotch. around this time, ace child liv flaherty returns to the village and, upon being caught up with the events she’s missed, reacts in the only way natural and goes and yells at robert and rebecca for fucking up the roblivion family.

rob, the second he’s out of rebecca’s earshot, finally comes clean to someone about how he’s feeling and literally yells I HATE HER AND THAT BABY. long story short, liv goes and yells at rebecca again, rob pretends like he never said any of the shit he totally said to save face bc he’s still workin on dat home farm cash and liv nicks some alcohol and also the keys to rob’s car and goes for a little joyride.

just so happens that she nicks the spiked bottle of scotch and ends up passed out in a field. rob finds her and takes her to hospital. aaron learns what has happened and goes mental at rob and it’s amazing. liv’s doctor is hella gay and hella cruising aaron and liv basically sets them up on a date and aaron is like YEAH SURE GUESS IM DATING THIS PERSON

AND ROB SEES AND HE’S LIKE WELL OK GUESS I DIDNT NEED MY HEART

AND THEN CRASHES THEIR DATE BECAUSE HE’S A FUCKIN LUNATIC

AND AARON IS LIKE GO THE FUCK AWAY ROBERT

AND ROB IS LIKE YES OK FINE HOPE MY HUSBAND MAKES U VERY HAPPY

and it’s just gr8.

anyway, rob sees the doctor rock up to the mill and aaron invite him in and naturally assumes they bang all night (they don’t bang at all and also aaron doesn’t really want to date anyone else bc it feels like cheating on rob and it’s just too soon) and from that point onwards robert basically loses his entire tiny mind. 

he goes and finds lawrence at home farm, drugs him a g a i n and then fakes a one night stand between the two of them

AND THEN ROB IS LIKE U TOOK ADVANTAGE OF ME, SUGAR DADDY LARRY

AND LARRY IS LIKE IM SO SORRY 

AND ROB IS LIKE :(

AND THEN ROB JUST SORT OF MAKES THE POINT TO HANG AROUND SUGAR DADDY LARRY AND SAY THINGS LIKE ~~I REALLY CARE ABOUT YOU~~~ WHILE WEARING SHIRTS THAT MAKE HIM LOOK EXTRA FUCKABLE BECAUSE HE WANTS ME TO SCOOP MY OWN EYEBALLS OUT WITH MY FISTS IN PAIN

ANYWAY, BECAUSE HE DID IT ONCE HE CAN DO IT AGAIN, ROB SLOWLY MAKES SUGAR DADDY LARRY’S FEELINGS FOR HIM RESURFACE AND GENTLY ENCOURAGES THEM, TO THE POINT WHERE SUGAR DADDY LARRY NOW PRETTY MUCH FEELS LIKE HE’S IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH ROBBO

AND SAYS STUFF TO HIM LIKE “I MISS YOU WHEN YOU’RE NOT HERE. DON’T GO.” AND ROB RESPONDS WITH AN “I WON’T” AND I WANT TO DIE

uh oh while this abomination of god and nature was occuring, lachlan got suspicious of robert’s constant presence and called in the big guns - his mum. 

chrissie comes back and is high key not trusting of the ex husband who ruined her life, who woulda thunk. rob, not prepared to let his home farm dreams go now when they are literally all he has left in the world, pays uncle tim to drive a fuckin speeding car into chrissie and a heavily pregnant rebecca. rob magically dives in to push chrissie out the way and save her life and she’s so stunned and grateful that she literally hugs him and ok she’s not completely on board the robert sugden loves us train after that, but she’s certainly not as suspicious about him as she once was

lucky however? that boy don’t trust shit, he knows robert sugden and he is not buying it. he also happens to be the only person in that household who is not attracted to men and thus has never had any desire to get up on rob. coincidence? i think not.

rob takes the opportunity of uncle tim being around to literally pretend to murder uncle tim!!! and then tell sugar daddy larry about it!!!! because murder is basically like writing a sonnet to sugar daddy larry - the most romantic gesture of all. 

oh and rob and sugar daddy larry keep almost kissing at different places around home farm and then keep getting interupted. maybe there is a god after all.

oh and aaron has been off on a lads on tour holiday around europe with some random mates, drinking shots and flirting with cute boys and living his best sunshiney life, while still being completely and utterly emotionally in a relationship with robert.

rob is just… doing The Most and not caring about the consequences, because maybe he had it right the first time. maybe money and power can buy happiness. apparently he doesn’t see any other options to find it, so. instead. he’s just. having this incredibly long breakdown that’s all going to end in disaster, the whites leaving and rob in hospital and probably hallucinating angels or some shit.

and that’s about it. so far. it’s been a #ride.

[zzizzigom]

Family — Wonho AU | Part Five

A/N: omg this part is so bad and I'm so sorry to make you all read this with your own two eyes, please forgive me OTL. Also, I apologize for making you all wait so long for this one

parts: prologue | one | two | three | four | six | seven

length: 2290 words

You release a heavy sigh as you stare up at the ceiling. The sounds of gunshots fill the room and soon Changkyun is groaning in frustration as Minhyuk laughs happily.

“Hyung, we’re on the same team!” the younger shouts. Minhyuk doesn’t reply but by the sounds of things exploding you know he’s still messing around.

“Y/N, your feet are next to his head, can you kick him?” Changkyun asks you over his shoulder.

You lazily whack the top of your foot against the back of Minhyuk’s head. The blonde hisses through his teeth but keeps playing.

“You should play with us,” Changkyun keeps talking. “Sitting there sighing isn’t going to get time to move faster.”

“You should’ve just gone with them,” Minhyuk adds in. He jolts to the side as if he’s actually dodging what’s happening on the screen.

“I didn’t want to intrude,” you murmur.

Changkyun scoffs. “Intrude with Wonho hyung, as if. He’d tie you to his hip if he could.”

“Shut up.”

“No he’s telling the truth.” Minhyuk taps furiously at the remote. “Even when it’s guy’s night he’s always asking to invite you.”

You sit up and roll your eyes. “Okay but that’s with you guys. This is something serious.”

The youngest turns to look at you as he pauses the game. “First, guy’s night is supremely serious. Second, just call him if you’re that nervous.”

“Already done.” You and Changkyun turn to look at Minhyuk as he presses call on your phone. “Also, Y/N stop using your birthday for your passcode.”

Changkyun bursts into laughter as you stare at your dialing phone as if it’s a foreign object. With a huff, Minhyuk pushes speaker and shakes the phone at you to take it. Before you can, Wonho answers with a happy, “Hello?”

You pull back as if you’ve been burned and Changkyun continues to laugh, this time into his palm.

Minhyuk doesn’t say anything and gives you a pointed look. He nods at you and then at the phone telling you to talk.

“Y/N? Are you there? Is everything okay?”

You grab the phone and turn off speaker mode before pressing it to your ear. “Sorry. Yeah I’m good. I just wanted to check on you and see how things were going. If I’m interrupting I can call back later though.”

“No, no. You’re fine. Everything’s going really good so far. Mari’s still shy but they seem to be doing okay. We’re eating ice cream right now.”

“That’s fun,” you smile. “Well I just wanted to check in with you, so I’ll let you go.”

You start to hang up the phone but at Wonho’s sudden call of your name you press the phone back against your ear.

“Y/N, wait.”

“Yes?”

“This may be a weird time to say this but, I love you.”

You freeze for a moment and blink in shock. Minhyuk quirks a brow at your expression but you ignore him as you come to once again and feel your cheeks heat up.

“I love you too,” you whisper into the phone. It’s no use though because Minhyuk and Changkyun catch it and both erupt in silent fangirling. You hang up and glare at the two of them.

“The two of you are ridiculous.”

“My noona is finally getting herself some sugar from the man of her dreams.”

You choke on a breath and laugh in disbelief. “Oh. My. God. You’re such a little weirdo, Kyun.”

“A little weirdo that you adore,” Changkyun grins. He suddenly prods Minhyuk’s shoulder and motions back towards the game. They drop the conversation quickly and immediately fall back into the artificial gun shots and bombs. You scowl at the back of their heads but lean back into the couch and watch idly.

You arrive at Wonho’s apartment and knock on the door. To your surprise it’s not Wonho who answers but instead Mari. She looks up at you with a smile but you can see she’s also slightly anxious as she motions for you to lean towards her. With an inquisitive look, you follow her directions and bend down to meet her eyes.

“Daddy is angry.” Her voice is whispered and worried.

You frown. “What happened?”

“After your call he had a fight with my mom…” She trails off as she nibbles on her bottom lip. After a moment she looks up again. “I don’t know what it was about though.”

As you stand up, you take her hand in your own and gently pull her into the apartment. Locking the door behind you, you walk into the kitchen and find Wonho sitting at the dining table as he stares off, completely lost in his thoughts. You give a side glance to the clock and turn to Mari, “Okay squirt, time to get ready for bed. I’ll be in in a little bit to read you a story if you want.”

Mari reluctantly nods and scurries off to her room. Once she’s gone you make your way to the table. At the sound of you pulling out a chair, Wonho looks up at you and gives a small smile that doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

“Did I mess things up with the phone call earlier?” You ask bluntly.

“No. I think I messed things up.”

“What happened?”

Wonho looks over your shoulder and you peek over and find nothing. He must’ve been searching for Mari eavesdropping nearby.

“Ahreum asked if she could have Mari for the night. And I don’t know something just set me off. She didn’t say it in any way to suggest anything but all I could think about then was the night she left. The only thing playing in my mind was Ahreum disappearing and finding that stupid note on the kitchen counter. This feeling erupted in my gut and I just found myself saying no, that Mari was to only stay with me.

“Like I said, there was nothing in Ahreum’s voice that should’ve made me feel that way but I just couldn’t help but think what if I said yes and the next morning they were both gone. I’m horrible, aren’t I? I’m denying a girl a chance to know her mother and she’s going to blame me—“

“Stop,” you interrupt sternly. Wonho’s voice had been starting to waver and crack. His eyes were glazing over with unshed tears. At your tone he looked at you finally and blinked at whatever emotion he saw in your face.

He pulls away with a wince. “I knew it. I knew you’d be mad.”

You flashback to the time Wonho told you Ahreum was pregnant. How your blank expression to the news he was sharing made him think you were angry with him.

Quickly, you tried to soften your features. “I’m not mad at you Hoseok. I’m more mad at the situation, if that makes sense.”

He hesitantly looks back at you and when he sees your open expression you see his shoulders relax. He once again sits comfortably into his chair and reaches out to grab your hand.

“I think you were right to say no,” you continue. “I don’t think Ahreum would’ve run off with Mari. But she needs to realize that she’s missed 7 years with her daughter. Ahreum may be Mari’s mother, but they know virtually nothing about each other. She can’t just insert herself into Mari’s life that abruptly. So you did fine in telling Ahreum no.”

“I just feel apologetic for pulling so many people into this. You didn’t ask for any of this when you became my friend yet alone my girlfriend. Mari also doesn’t need this in her life.”

“Hoseok, if it meant having you be a constant in my life, I’d take all this and more. And I’m sure Mari’s grateful she has such an amazing dad. You need to stop selling yourself so short.”

Wonho sighed and leaned to rest his head on your shoulder. “You’re too good for me, Y/N.”

You smirk. “As long as you’re aware of that, we’re all good.”

Relief fills you when you feel Wonho’s body shake with laughter. You wrap an arm around him and turn to nuzzle your face into the top of his head. His soft hair tickles your cheeks as the two of you sit there in silence.

Deep inside you could feel a small spark of anger towards Ahreum for trying to push it too fast. But you were also trying to stay separate from the situation. You knew for a fact you’d always be on Wonho’s side of things but even with how involved you were, you were still an outside party and had to take a step back.

Taking a deep breath, you gently pull away from Wonho and smile when he looks are you in confusion. “I promised Mari I’d read her a story. So you mister better get ready for bed.”

Wonho smirks. “Will you tuck me in also.”

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. “Ew. Just go.”

 The next morning you wake up to your phone buzzing against the bedside table. The sound of the vibrations against the wood has you frowning in annoyance. Next to you, Wonho groans into his pillow and gently nudges your shoulder. You tiredly push away his hand before sitting up and grabbing your phone.

Quickly you clear your throat to make your voice more presentable and with your eyes still shut you answer the call. “Hello?”

“Can we talk today?”

With a frown, your slowly awakening mind registers Ahreum’s voice talking to you. You glance over at Wonho and find him still passed out.

“Hold on,” you say into the phone.

Carefully you climb out of the bed. Grabbing one of Wonho’s sweaters you press the phone between your ear and shoulder. At the same time, you make your way into the silent living room and start to put your arms through the sweater.

“Okay,” you say after you’ve pulled the sweater on completely. You make your way onto the small balcony attached to Wonho’s apartment and shut the door behind you.

“Can we talk later today?” Ahreum asks again.

You sigh and lick your dry lips before replying. “Ahreum you need to pace yourself when it comes to this matter. Your past actions and the way you acted last night are really stressing out Hoseok.”

It’s silent on the other end of the line. Finally, you hear her take a breath before speaking. “Please, Y/N. I know we were never close but I want to fix this and I realized last night that to do that I’m going to need your help. I know I made Wonho pull away again, but he trusts you, I think more than either of us fully realizes.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I had an idea and I wanted to run it by you in person, but I could do it now.” When you don’t answer Ahreum continues to talk. “I thought maybe you could chaperone a day with me and Mari. Like you said, my past actions have Wonho on edge, which means he may never come around to trust me again. But if you could see me with Mari, maybe you could slowly get him to open up once more?”

You start to protest but at the sound of the sliding door opening you look up and find a bleary eyed Wonho giving you a curious and worried look.

“I’ll call you later to talk about this,” you reply. “It’s not up to me.”

Ahreum seems to take this in positively, maybe because you didn’t outright reject her like you wanted to. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You hang up the phone and take the hand Wonho has outstretched to you. He pulls you back into the apartment and shuts the sliding door once more. Stepping forward to envelope you in a hug, he buries his face into the crook of your neck and sighs contently. Your arms wrap around his waist and you relax into the warmth he supplies you after being in the morning chill.

“Who was on the phone?”

You hesitate, not wanting to ruin the moment, before deciding to just get it over with. “It was Ahreum.”

His shoulders tense but he doesn’t pull away from you. “What did she want?”

“We can talk about that later,” you decide. “Let’s eat first.”

Wonho’s head lifts from your shoulder but he continues to hold you in his arms. “Can we have pancakes again?”

Your lips quirk. “You haven’t used all the eggs for ramyeon?.”

“No I bought more. They’re in the fridge.”

“Okay then, pancakes it is.”

Wonho suddenly perks up even more. “Oh! I saw this video where this person made Pokémon shaped pancakes, can you do that but with an eevee?”

You scoff. “Do I look like I can make pancakes in any shape other than uneven circles?”

He pouts but you turn away without giving him the time to make you cave in and actually give it a shot. When he realizes you’re not going to fall for the pout he gives up with an exaggerated huff.

“Come on,” you say, making your way to the kitchen. “If you want pancakes, you’re helping.”

Wonho smiles and nods. “Anything for you.”

You look over your shoulder and even though it’s a simple thing like pancakes you can see how much Wonho actually means that. Your heart soars and you feel a flutter in your gut as he smiles at you. Ahreum said that you and her may not fully realize how much Wonho actually trusts you. But in that moment you think you see more than the usual glimpse of his full trust in you.

[falconisms]

Mr.Lang - Ch 1

Fandom: Marvel Pairing: Scott Lang/Sam Wilson Warnings: None Word Count: 2,977 Summary: Scott is a single, overworked dad that has come to the realization that he can’t keep asking his ex-wife and friends to watch Cassie five days of the week when he comes across an old babysitter ad by a Sam Wilson.  

A/N: i got lazy editing so if theres any mistakes or if it flows weird i M SORRY

ao3 link

“What do you mean you can’t watch Cassie?”

“Scott, it’s a two hour drive out. I can’t be doing it three times a week.”

“I’m working four jobs to make sure I can care for her. Isn’t this what you wanted Maggie? Me to clean up my act and be able to support Cassie?”

“It is, but isn’t four jobs a little excessive? She’s your daughter, you need to be able spend more time with her. Finding people to watch her in such short notice was bound to stop working.”

“I can’t afford to have daycare five days outta the week Maggie. Sometimes I can barely make rent.”

“I’ll take her this time but seriously Scott, I’m sure you can find a babysitter that will change wages because of your situation. I know it’s hard, but you really are doing a great job.” Scott briefly heard someone whisper to Maggie on the other line. “ Alright, I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow when you get off work.”

“Thanks Mags.” Scott let out and pulled the phone away from his ear, watching the call end. Find a babysitter that’s willing to work five days a week and willing to change their pay rate because of Scott’s sob story. No problem.

**

Turns out finding a babysitter to do just that was a big problem. Either they were willing to work five days a week but didn’t even blink at Scott’s story or they felt bad for his situation but weren’t willing to put in the time. Having lost all hope, he moped around his whole shift at his gas station job.

The store was run down and dead silent except one old man who was actually dying as he looked slowly over all the lottery tickets, and back over them again. Searching for anything to keep Scott from falling asleep, he pulled out one of the month old newspapers they had shoved behind the newer ones. Turning from sports to comics to local news, he ended up in the job search.

Scott already was tossing around four jobs on top of raising a kid, he shouldn’t be looking at old job offers. It’s just light reading material, don’t get any ideas Lang. He thought to himself. So that’s what he did, mindlessly scanned over the words until one ad actually caught his eye.

Babysitter for hire. Flexible, open hours and cheap. Everything Scott needs.

Should he really trust an old babysitter ad that charges $5 an hour? Probably not. Who knows, the person might not be a great babysitter at that rate, or their offer might not  be open with all the time that’s passed. But he’s willing to try, he has to. Looking closer at the fihe print, Scott sees a name.

Sam Wilson.

Under the name simply has a phone number. Alright, this is just something Scott will have to do. He’ll call this “Sam Wilson”, talk to them about the ad and then he’ll leave them with Cassie for a few hours and report back to see how it went on her standards. If she’s willing to try a babysitter.

Scott grabbed some scissors from the managers keep behind the counter and cut out the full ad and shoved it into his pocket. To look like he was working, he sorted the papers by date and threw away all the older ones.

**

A sweet cry of “Daddy!” and sounds of sock covered feet running down the cramped hallway when he opened the front door put smile on Scott’s face immediately. He bent down right when Cassie came into sight. Her hair was braided into pigtails and a crown sat on top of her head. She barreled towards her dad with her short arms spread for a hug. Scott scooped her up as soon as there was contact between the two.

“Hey Princess!” He beamed, lifting Cassie up. “Did I miss the tea party this afternoon? I never got an invitation.” She laughed while shaking her head, making her pigtails bounce back and forth. “I didn’t miss it? Then what are we standing around for Cass? We got a tea party to throw.” Scott gently put her down so he could take off his shoes and put his keys away.

“No Daddy!” She wrinkled her nose and shook her head again. Scott bent down to meet her face to face, raising an eyebrow in question. “I didn’t invite you ‘cause you’re busy all the time.” He immediately placed his hands on her small shoulders and  ran them up and down the upper half of her arms.

“Oh but I’m never too busy to spend time with you Peanut.” Scott looked up from Cassie to meet Luis’ gaze, hoping he’ll get the message that they need to speak before he heads out. “Now, would you look at the time?” He looked at an imaginary watch on his wrist, causing Cassie to laugh a little, “It’s time for the after party tea party!  Is the table all set for your guests?” Cassie’s eyes were wide as she quickly shook her head. Crossing his arms, Scott puffed out his chested, “Well, you better go set it! Your guests will be arriving shortly Princess!” Cassie let out a short scream and ran back towards her room to set up for a second tea party.

“Two tea parties in one day? That’s a lot for one little girl to handle.” Luis had a cheeky smile on his face at the sight of Cassie running excitedly into her bedroom. He lifted off the tiara Cassie surely convinced him to wear.

“Ah, Princess Luis,” Scott stood up from his kneeling to speak to his daughter to do a deep bow towards his best friend. “How was this evening with Princess Cassie?” Standing up straight again, he walked over to Luis to clap their right hands together, pull each other in and patting each other sharply on the back.

“As good as you can expect, you got a great kid Scotty.” They both looked down the cramped hallway leading towards the two bedrooms in the small apartment. Cassie’s door was open and you could hear her humming as she set up her plastic tea set.

Nodding, Scott turned back to Luis, “Well man, thanks again for watching after her today. I’ll make it up to you somehow, promise.”

“Nah, you’ve done enough for me man.” Luis shook his head and walked over to the stuff he brought along. Slinging his backpack on, slipping his shoes on and handing Scott the small tiara, Luis headed towards the door to leave. “You and Cass have fun, I’ll see ya later.”

“Hey before you go, I need your advice on something.” Luis turned back to Scott at that in time to see him pull out the newspaper ad he got earlier at work. He held it out for Luis to grab and look over. “It’s a babysitter ad. A cheap, flexible one, like it’s too good to be true.”

“And that’s exactly what’s setting you off,” He replied, taking the ad from Scott and looked it over. “So what’s on your mind?”

“I need to take it up with the Princess,” Scott pointed his thumb over his shoulder, “ and depending on how she reacts, hire them for an hour or so and see what Cassie thinks of them?” Scott fidgeted with the hem of his polo work shirt. “But isn’t that weird? Hiring a stranger to watch your kid for a few hours and asking send kid to tell you how it went? Yeah that’s too weird. Maybe there’s a coworker at one of my jobs who’s kid coul-”

“Scotty.” Scott snapped his mouth shut at the tone of Luis’ voice. “Give it a try. Cassie will be totally ok with a babysitter. How much is at risk here really? Ten dollars?” Luis handed the ad back to Scott and opened the front door. “Whatever happens, you’ll figure it out amigo, you always do.” With that, Luis waved his hand up and left Scott to decide on his own.

However when a “Daddy!” was called out from down the hall, Scott knew he wasn’t totally alone in this decision.

Heading down the hallway to the little girl’s room with a bright smile on his face, Scott called down to her “I’m coming Princess.” When he appeared in Cassie’s doorway, she took hold of three of his fingers, her way of holding his hand, and led him towards her small table with plastic china set out on it for a tea party.

“You’ll sit here Daddy,” She pointed at a spot on the ground, Scott sat down at with his legs crossed. The table was low to the ground and had chipping paint, it was missing its matching chairs so instead Cassie took pillows and cushions from around the apartment when she sat at it. Around the table on the other cushions sat Cassie’s favorite stuffed bears and toys, playing the part as the other guests at the party.

The eight year old sat straight across from Scott and began to pour imaginary tea into each plastic cup. She started on her left, making it around to each guest, asking if they want any sugar or milk. “Milk for your tea?” She looked up at Scott once she was done pouring him his own cup of tea.

He place the small silver tiara Luis was previously wearing on his head and nodded with gusto, “Of course Princess Cassie, you always remember how I enjoy my tea.” Scott sat up straight and spoke in some sort of accent. Cassie giggled with a wrinkled nose, finishing her cup of tea with three imaginary sugar cubes. She lifted her tea cup with her pinkie extended out, sat up straight like her father and tried to mock his accent.

“Thank you for coming Princess Daddy,” Cassie held the cup towards Scott to initiate a delicate cheers. Scott followed her lead, lifting the cup with his pinkie finger out and carefully met his daughter’s plastic tea cup halfway. A soft clink of the plastic signaled them to left the cups to their mouths and pretend to take a sip of the tea.

“Ah! The best tea as always Princess Cassie!” Scott exclaimed after he took a sip of his imaginary tea.

“Daddy?” Cassie put down her teacup and looked intently at Scott. “What’s wrong?” He blinked, taken aback.

“What do you mean Cass?” She lead forward over the short table and placed her small hands on his face.

“Your face is all crinkled.” She rubs up and down his cheeks, stretching his skin down slightly. Scott didn’t realize his brows were furrowed this whole time, constant worry on his face. Of course Cassie picked up on it. He relaxed his face and gave her a small smile while grabbing her hands.

“I have a question for you.” He pulled his daughters hands off his cheeks and let out a sigh through his nose, “Would you be okay with having a babysitter that watches you when I’m not home?”

“But I have Mommy and Uncle Luis to watch me.” Cassie said, “I don’t need a babysitter.” Scott nodded and stood up, still holding one of Cassie’s hands, leading her out of the room and down to the apartments kitchen.

“I know Peanut, but Mommy and Luis can’t be here every time I need them to be.” The kitchen was cramped, holding one counter top and a square dinner table in the corner. Scott lifted Cassie up to sit in her spot at the dining table. “A babysitter can be here when I can’t.” Cassie pursed her lips while kicking her short legs back and forth.

Scott pulled out a tub of vanilla ice cream from the freezer in the fridge that was only a short distance away from the table. Scooping three scoops into a bowl and grabbing two spoons, he brought the bowl to Cassie. As soon as the bowl touched the table Scott held up one finger towards the young girl and went to put the tub away.

“Also,” He came back with sprinkles, “We’ll do a test run.” He poured some sprinkles on Cassie’s half of the ice cream and handed her one of the spoons.

“A test run?” She questioned before taking a bite.

“Yup. Tomorrow is Saturday, I don’t have to work. But I do need to get groceries. So I’ll ask them to watch after you for a few hours while I shop.” Scott took a large bite of ice cream.

“What’s their name?” She asked, a bit of ice cream on the corner of her mouth. Scott smiled, wiping the food off her face and pulled out the newspaper ad. “Sam Wilson.” She read. “Will they have tea parties with me?”

“I’m sure if you ask nicely they will have tea parties with you.” Scott ruffled her hair, “Now let’s finish up, it’s almost your bedtime.” Cassie nodded and shortly after they cleaned out the bowl of ice cream.

**

The clock read 8:45 pm by the time Cassie fell asleep. Scott left her bedroom door slightly ajar and headed back to the kitchen. He grabbed an apple for the fridge, the newspaper ad from the table and made his way to the ratty couch that resided in the living room area. Taking a bite of the apple, Scott pulled out his phone to dial the phone number on the ad. Soon he realized that it was late to make business related calls, and maybe they weren’t even available tomorrow, it was the weekend for god sake. They can afford a personal ad, they must be an adult. And if they don’t answer tonight, I’ll leave a voicemail. Cassie will understand. Besides she loved to go to the grocery store. Scott nodded to himself and pressed the call button before he talked himself back out of it.

The line rang a few times before being answered with a “Hello?” and some loud background noise.

Scott stuttered, “Hello, is this Sam Wilson?” He raised an eyebrow at the sound of glass clinking together.

“This is he, may I ask who is calling?” The man on the other end was now trying to speak over the background noise now.

“Oh. Yeah, This is Scott Lang?” He immediately slapped himself mentally for adding a question mark after his name. “I’m calling about your babysitting ad. In the paper. Babysitter for hire. That’s you right?” Scott placed his hand over his mouth before he rambled more.

“Babysitter ad?” Sam went quiet under the noises in the background, it sounded like voices and music? “Wait, that ad I put out like a month ago? I didn’t think anyone saw it.” Sam let out a breathy laugh, “Give me one second man.”

“Okay,” Scott stuttered again, left to the loud background until it suddenly stopped. “Hello?”

“Hey, I’m still here.” Sam’s voice replied immediately, “Sorry about that. So, the babysitting ad?”

“Um,” Scott blanked out from hearing Sam Wilson’s voice fully. It was smooth, calming even. “Are you still looking for a job?” He rushed out quickly.

“When do I start?”

“Wait. Really? Just like that you’re ready to start?” This Sam Wilson really seems like something else, thought Scott.

“Yeah, you’re the only person who has called me about that ad. You’re probably the only one who actually saw it.” Scott snorted at that. “So, what’s your story?”

“My story?”

“You call me about a month old babysitter ad. You have to have some life to lead you to this conversation.” Was Scott really that easy to figure out? That a mystery man that he’s been on the phone with for two minutes can come to the conclusion that Scott is in a tough spot.

Life could always be described as a ‘tough spot’ for Scott, ever since he was young with his sick mom. From theft to jail to release to starting his life back up while taking care of Cassie, calling a tough spot would be taking it lightly. But he can’t drop all that on a babysitter, a stranger, one that could be temporary no less. So Scott breathed in through his nose, gathering the courage to tell the other man how he sees it.

“I do lead some life, and the most important thing to me in that life is my daughter.” He nearly whispered. “Being a single dad in New York is nearly impossible. So here’s the deal. The idea of a babysitter is new to Cassie, I want her to be able to tell me if she’s okay with it or not. If you’re available, can you watch her for a couple of hours tomorrow morning?” Scott rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, clutching the apple he’s been holding. “If she likes you, I’ll tell you my story.”

Silence, he quickly brought the phone away from his ear to check if the call was still going and back. “Sounds like I got an impression to make. How old is she?” Sam asked after a while.

“Eight.” Answered Scott, hints of pride in his voice.

“Alright. Text this number with your address and when you want me to watch Cassie tomorrow and I’ll be there.” Sam ended the call before Scott had a chance to react. Pulling the phone away from his ear, he took another bite of the apple to collect his thoughts.

What’s done is done, it’s up to Cassie now. Scott concluded while pulling his phone back into his range of sight. He began to compose a new text to Sam Wilson. Running all the things he could say through his head, he decided to keep it to the point.

5621 43rd Ave Queens. 9:30 am. -Scott Lang

[g0dblessthefandom]

Brittana Valentine’s Semi AU (Updated Daily Until Valentine’s Day) February 13, 2017

The Troubletones to the rescue?

February 13, 2017

Mercedes and Sugar watched with concern as Santana pushed the salad around on her plate. They’d invited her out for a celebratory lunch on her first day at work (Sugar was paying), and went to the swankiest restaurant within walking distance of all of them. It wasn’t supposed to be a particularly happy affair, but they’d wanted at least for everyone to be in a good mood.

Santana had gone back to Mercedes’ house the afternoon before in an especially bad mood. Mercedes had known that she was going to spend time with Brittany, and figured that the mood must have had something to do with that. She’d immediately called Sugar who had just gotten off the phone with Brittany. Apparently, Santana had stumbled onto her with Clark, and hadn’t taken it well. Sometimes she just wanted to take them by the shoulders and shake some sense into them, but she couldn’t live their lives for them. So, she didn’t ask. She hoped that Santana would see the light on her own. Or at least, trust Brittany to figure things out for the both of them.

Now, in Le Petit Ecureuil (another one of Rachel’s suggestions), they sat in a morose silence, Mercedes and Sugar unsure of how to counsel Santana, and Santana not making any effort to make things less awkward.

“Well-” Sugar started, clearing her throat. “I actually brought had something to talk about with you all.”

Mercedes turned to her interestedly and Santana kept stabbing at her salad.

“Santana. Santana!” Mercedes bumped Santana with her shoulder to get her attention.

“What? Huh? Sorry. What’s up?”

“Sugar was about to make an announcement” Mercedes said.

“I’m all ears, Sugar.” Santana said, gamely, putting her fork down and leaning forward.

“Well, you remember I was saying that I wanted to ask Jane to move in with me?”

“I am still a little annoyed that you told Santana before you told me, Sugar.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m sorry. Anyway-” She continued. “I’ve decided that I’m going to tell her tomorrow night. I ended up getting my daddy’s yacht after all, and the crew is going to take us out of the harbor.”

Mercedes cheered. “That’s great, Sug! What do you think she’s going to say?”

“I dunno, really. I hope that she says yes, but I’m going to tell her there’s no pressure.”

“Well, that should be a great Valentine’s Day. I’m really happy for you, Sugar.”

Mercedes bumped Santana again.

“Oh, yeah, that’s awesome, Sugar.”

“Santana! I swear, you need to go ahead and spill, okay? Because we came here to have fun, and celebrate your new job, not watch you wallow in your salad. Now, if you’re not going to talk to us, you need to at least pretend that you’re having a normal emotions right now.”

Santana sighed. “I’m sorry, guys.”

Mercedes and Sugar shared a nervous look. Santana almost never apologized. Mercedes had only snapped her  because she assumed that would come right back with an insult, and she’d be back to normal. If she was apologizing, and trying to explain herself, things were bad.

Mercedes tried again. “No, I’m sorry, Santana. I really am, ok? I just wish you’d talk to us about it, instead of putting these walls up, you know? We want to help, we care about you, we always have.”

“I’m just trying to get through this day, and tomorrow, ok, ‘Cedes? I’ve just got to make it through and not make a fool of myself in front of my new coworkers, and I’ll be fine, ok?”

“Well, what about the next day? And the next day after that, huh? What about the week after or the week after that? We’re not like your west coast friends who are just going to drink with you all night, and not ask you how we can fix it? We’ve known you too long for that. We’re your Troubletones, Santana, you’ve got to learn to trust us.”

“Maybe I don’t want you trying to fix all my problems. Maybe I don’t want to have to come crawling back here after some major fuck up for you all to tell me how to behave like a normal human being?”

“We’re not trying to lecture you! We just want to help.”

“I know!” Santana raised her voice, but took a deep breath, and tried again. “I know, Mercedes, and I appreciate it. But at some point I have to learn how to solve my own screw ups.”

“Can’t you just tell us what happened?”

Santana shrugged. “A run of the mill Santana Lopez screw up?”

“It’s gotta be more than that.” Sugar offered.

“Maybe, but I’m just overthinking it.” Santana stood up and put on her coat. “Look, thanks for lunch, I really appreciate it. I love you guys, you know that, right? I’m just in my head right now. I’ve got a lot on my mind. New job, moving out at the end of the week, it’s just a lot.”

Mercedes put a hand on Santana’s arm. “You don’t have to leave so soon, San. I told you. You can use my place as long as you like.”

“I know, Mercedes, thanks. I just think getting into my own place will put me in the proper headspace.”

“I-I’m just worried about you, Santana. I don’t want you closing yourself off to your friends or isolating yourself. That’s what you do when the going gets rough sometimes, and we’re here because we love you and we want what’s best for you.”

“I know I’m not alone, Mercedes, I’ve got you guys. I’m going to be fine, ok?” She bent down and kissed Mercedes cheek, then turned and planted one on Sugar’s forehead. “Thanks for lunch. Love you guys. See you later.”

With that she was gone, and out the restaurant.

“What are we going to do?” Sugar asked sadly.

“C’mon Sugar, we do what we always do. We meddle.”

“But she told us not to get involved, Mercedes.”

“Yeah, she’s always going to say that. Just like I’d say it if it were me, but she’s a Troubletone, and we’re not going to leave her out to dry.”

“So, we’re getting Brittana back together?”

“As if there was any doubt. I have an idea, but I’m going to need your help, and Jane’s too. Also, we might end up having to use your dad’s boat.”

“No problem. As long as you’re off by the time we want to start knocking boots, you’re welcome to it.”

“Ew, Sugar.”

Sugar shrugged.

“Anyway, get Jane on the phone, and we’ll start making moves.”

Sugar clapped her hands. “It’ll be a Valentine’s Day miracle!”

\

“And since you’re not doing anything for Valentine’s Day, we figured it would be fun.”

“A boat, Sugar? Your dad’s boat? That seems rather romantic for you to be bringing a friend along.”

“What? No, no, it’s fine. We just don’t want you to be alone on the most love filled day of the year. Isn’t that right, Jane?”

Sugar nudged Jane whose lap she was mostly sitting on.

Jane rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah! It’s, um, totally fine. I wasn’t planning on having this one all to myself or anything.”

“What she means, Britt, is that we don’t want you to be alone, and even though it might not be the most private Valentine’s Day we’ve ever had, if people are cool about it, they will get another night in the near future where they can try that new thing they’ve been dying to try since we watched that Dutch porno a few weeks back.”

Brittany grimaced. “We’re not talking about my thing anymore, are we? I really, really hope not.”

“All, I’m saying is that Jane is on board. Right, Jane?”

Jane was a bit lost in a reverie (no doubt imagine Sugar bending over in some impossible position), and after a moment nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! I’m in. Anyway, beyond my own selfish, but super sexy reasons, we really don’t want you to be all alone.”

Brittany looked a bit unsure, so Sugar tried again. “There will be dancing, and music and, um, fondue!”

“Really?” Brittany’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah, for sure.”

“I guess I can make an appearance then. How long before we shove off?”

“I’ll call you and set it all up later. Were you thinking of bringing anybody? Like, I don’t know a date or something?”

“Are you asking about me and Clark, Sugar?” Brittany raised an eyebrow.

“You said his name, not me.”

“Well, as a matter of fact, no, I’m not bringing him. We actually had a long talk last night. I’m not sure what I want at the moment, and he was right, it wasn’t fair to leave him twisting in the wind. I did the right thing and broke up with him.”

Sugar tried her best to hide her smile. She failed miserably, so Jane stepped in.

“I’m sorry, Britt. Even though he might have been the one for you, he’s a nice guy. How’d he take it?”

“Better than expected, actually. I mean, he was sad because of how things turned out, but he said he really liked me, and if I wanted to get together again, even as friends, he’d like that.”

“I never got how you managed to stay friends with your exes, Brittany.”

“Well, Sugar, it’s as easy as not razing the ground as you make your way out the door.”

Sugar shrugged. “I’m not familiar with that method.”

“Anyway-” Brittany sighed. “I’m going to miss him a little. He was a really awesome guy. And the sex was incredible-”

“And that’s enough for me, thanks.” Jane interrupted.

“I dunno, I could stand to hear a little more.”

“Does that mean you’re considering Santana?” Jane broke in before Brittany could respond.

“Santana is just this constant, you know? It’s like I’m always considering her. But, it’s not a contest, where Clark drops out, and Santana automatically fills in. We’ve both been through a lot. I just want to figure things out with her.”

“I get it.”

“Welp.” Sugar got up from Jane’s lap. “I’ve got arrangements to make and whatnot. I’ll see you tomorrow, Britt, and see you later, my love.”

She kissed Jane fully on the lips, and shivered as she stood tall. “Man, I will never get tired of that.”

They both waved at Sugar’s retreating form.

“Ok, Hayward. What does your girlfriend have planned?” Brittany said, turning on her assistant.

“What? I don’t know! She just told me she wanted to invite you, that’s all.”

“And she’s got nothing up her sleeve?”

“Sugar? Really, Britt? I love Sugar, but does she seem like the type of person with a plan?”

Brittany smirked. “Well, well, well. Using the “L” word already, huh?”

Jane smacked a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my god. I’d only said that to my hairdresser before.”

“Are you sure you should have told your hairdresser before you told your girlfriend?”

“Well, I’m waiting on the right moment? I don’t want to spring it on her.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, Jane. Anyway, I won’t say anything, if you tell me what she’s up to.”

“Nothing, I promise! Well, nothing as far as I know. I swear, Brittany.”

“I’m kidding, Jane.” Brittany put an arm around her and gave a squeeze. “I wouldn’t tell her regardless. I just hope you’ll tell her soon. She really likes you.”

“As much as Santana likes you?” Jane said, slyly.

“Oh, no, don’t get me started on that again.” Brittany said with a grin.

“C’mon, Britt-”

“I already said I’d got to Sugar’s boat for Valentine’s Day. I feel like I’ve done my part.”

“Fine. I won’t badger you about it.”

“Thank you very much.”

Jane smiled as Brittany went back into her office.

[nightshade-sage]

The Seven Guys You'll Date In Collage.

The 7 guys you’ll date in collage.

My first writing for this site.

Features BTS

Contains a bit of suggested smut, fluff.

A/n: A short imagine for my best friend. She knows who she is. Sorry for any mistakes again this is my first time posting my works.

Jungkook-the Highschool dream.

You would date all throughout highschool and he’d definitely be your sweetheart. You’d share everything with him and become completely under his spell. You’d plan on marriage and kids, your life’s intertwining as you tried your best to imagine the kind of ways your futures would go. He’d be your first on many things as you would be his. He would have known you for years and he’d definitely be your number one fan for collage but as soon as the future did come you didn’t expect it to go so wrong. Both of your relationships before this had been in a safe bubble. But as time grew on the further you grew apart. Studies and friends coming in between your dates. One night in particular you decided to surprise him, waiting in his dorm room with a movie and popcorn … What happened next was a surprise for sure. You had been waiting for hours slowly trying to kill time before passing out on the bed awaking to a light turning on as you saw the beautiful girl now gracefully draped in his arms and sinfully playing with his lips as if the snake in your little garden of Eden. It was the first time your heart was broken…. The first time you cried way more then you thought your body could contain…. It was the first time that soap bubble had been broken…. A future didn’t seem so bright to you anymore. Relationships sick to you now. But really what relationship last past Highschool. It was all a dream.

Taehyung-The fun guy.

You’d met in a club, one of your now many past times as school became a bore and your friends managed to finally get you out of your long study sessions alone in your dorm. You’d met under the pretenses that it would be a simple fuck and the smile on his lips as he moaned your name ment nothing more than a small desire to rid yourself of the man you once knew. But yet again once turned into twice, three times, weeks of now actually getting to know your “one night stand” and those nights where he shared your bed had been the most passionate you had felt in years. You’d get to know his cute box smile and just what to do to keep it on his face. You’d met his mom and talk of the little boy he once was, his fuckboy side seemingly subsiding as he got to know you and what you thought was love, But like the say, you can’t change a playboy. He was and only will be a fun guy…. For a second time your facade of being unbreakable was up and clubs now only left a distant taste of regret as it entered your mouth.

Yoongi- Black and white realist.

He’d seem like the type to be dark and mysterious and parts of you were interested in knowing what exactly he kept in that little notebook of his. He’d always have that calm cool collected smirk on his face when you talked but bringing up the notes in said book always made a sour face appear. You’d meet him in your English and the dark disinterest eyes he kept intrigued you. You’d be assigned a project to which you would peer edit each other’s work and his would be unlike any you have read. Even after the time you decided not to get to close, yet again you couldn’t help the feelings you received when you did talk to him. You’d exchange numbers and for a time everything seemed to finally go right in the world. Taehyung now forgotten as many a date occurred with Yoongi even if it were just napping in-between classes and talking about poetry or classical music. You learned that he loved playing piano and as you grew closer he let you finally see inside his little black book. Filled with nothing but genius music. He’d let his ego get the best of him when you said such things though and eventually his snide comments would turn you disinterested in the conversations you had yearned for before. Just like most things the comments and his lack of trying made you frustrated till the point you broke and here you were yet again with your head hanging low as yet another beautiful man slipped out of your life. But really, could a future happen with someone who only saw everything as black and white and a waste of his time.

Seokjin-The prince/the one that got away.

He was always the guy you could count on to have your back and someone who was constantly keeping you in a considerate manner. You had been extremely close since Sophomore year of college over a found mutual joy out of food and instruments. As well as multiple dad jokes and bad puns that would have you rolling for hours and the fact he always was a savior and put your needs before his own made him all the better. You started to believe in love once more thinking you finally had it right. Feeling so over joyed in your accomplishments you could only smile to yourself as a feeling of I told you so was just beyond the horizon, But alas his nice manner and inability to say no would prove so many countless dates forgotten. As time went you’d realize that sometimes prince charming is best left for fairy tales. It was mutual but you missed him like crazy. They never tell you how awful it is to lose your bestfriend and boyfriend when you make them one person. Missed calls and text messages left you numb. You finally realized just what slipped your grasp and the heartlessness settled deep inside you.

Jimin-the popular one.

How he chose you out of multiple fucks you could never understand.Somehow he managed to aways greet you everyday since freshman orientation. He had been the more popular kid of the hell you, he, and Jungkook attended. You two never grew close but with the factor of his family being your parents mutual friends must of helped. Along with the occasional dinner invitations that lead to desert in your new apartment since it being your first year to live off campus. Just like many other girls he tried to trick you with dates and gifts to keep you satisfied, a sugar daddy of sorts but as soon a real feelings did arise the deal was broken off, it did make dinners harder to bear but due to your previous agreement to not grow close it made it easier to fake this time. He was like Jungkook in that way. He introduced you to a world just out of your reach with possibilities only you could dream of just to take away those beautiful objects to leave dark and jagged edges called truth. It was funny. They were bestfriends after all. In that, it was how you expected the truth. One in the same. You were feeling weary and slowly giving up on love.

Namjoon-the nerd/long term.

You’d bump into him in the halls knocking everything out of your hands. He’d scramble to pick them up frantically trying to apologize but you knew it was sorta your fault for having been daydreaming. He was the clumsy sort so he was always the one to think it was his fault but you didn’t mind. He was sweet and shy always helping with your studies as a simple bump turned into a great friendship. He’d understand your convictions about love because in his own way that he didn’t like talking about he was exactly like you. He’d be the type to be a complete dork, breaking things or mishaps being his specialty. Even though he never pushed you knew he wanted more and after a long heated night between the two of you (yes the term you now came to love (daddy) used more then once that evening was involved) you were inclined to give him just that. You grew more invested with each other, going on dates to the park or just to watch the stars but you both assumed it wouldn’t last. When winter came to end your summer fun it was a mutual agreement. Your faith in love grew you still had your wall but Namjoon proved not all men were as awful and before long it was your last year.

Hoseok-the one.

It was your last year and you had months to heal, your friends proud as you slowly came out of your shell, you started going to a cafe to study instead of being alone in your dark apartment that was just cold and hazed your attention anymore.It couldn’t hold a candle to the warm atmosphere the cafe provided which filled you inspiration that now had your finally starting the book you planned since freshman year. The smell of cinnamon warmed you and left you missing home as hours were spent on wrapping up your research paper and thesis and begining on the chapters you now religiously wrote. He had caught your eye the day you walked in. His smile brighter than the sun and his personality always bring a smile to your lips. You never thought about him in a relationship way because he wasn’t your normal type though his sly flirty comments kept you buzzing as he always made sure to keep your cup full. He worked here with Yoongi who even though never sought more with you was now a close friend. He found a great girl after you broke up and you were happy for him. They were to be engaged soon and it left you in awe as the man had changed so much since you two happened. It left you hoping for something like that yourself and with his constant nagging on you and Hoseko made your face heat up and imagine him in different lights. What if it did happen. One rainy day such things did occur. He finally gained the courage to talk to you for a date and you were more than happy to accept. It was weird looking back at it now. So many years and so many dates later how it all lead to marriage was beyond you. He was like a secret that you never thought would be yours only to keep. A small boy working a cafe and a down on her luck collage girl seeking warmth within it’s walls. Seemed out of a fairy tale of such things existed. He was out going, funny, smart, and extremely loyal. Who would have known. You smile to yourself now. He out of all would be the one.

[awkwardsha]

The D.C. Threesome pt. 3

                                        By: Shawnice Renee

           Al held my hand as he slowly led me on a tour of him and Big Camille’s home. I felt like Queen on an official visit the way he courted me to view his home. Five bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms, a jacuzzi along with a pool that is the center of attention in their backyard. Did I mention they have a guesthouse? To be rich…that must be the life. At last I arrive at Al and Camille’s master bedroom. Al invited me to have a seat on their bench by the foot of their bed. Camille sat at her vanity in this amazing lingerie piece. All I could think in my head was ‘wow’.

           Wearing a lace one piece outfit, revealed more then what was said. That sheer robe definitely didn’t cover anything either. I hope to look like her in my forties.

“Hey baby, our guest of the night has arrived.” Al said. Camille stood in her 6 inch black stilettos and walked over to me with a champagne glass. Her walk was so mesmerizing. She handed me a champagne glass and smiled. “Welcome to our home. Now let’s have a good time.”

           I placed my bag on a hanger along with my coat when Big Camille asked, “ Sandy, tell me how long have you been dancing?”

“Not long. Maybe a month or two.” I replied.

“You never worked at a strip club before?” Al asked.

“No.” I laughed, “Stripping wasn’t on my future goals list. But sometimes we gotta do what we gotta do.”

“She’s got a hustler’s mentality Al. What part of DC are you from?” Big Camille continued to interrogate.

            The more questions she asked the more I felt like I was being interviewed for something.

“Actually I’m from New York I just moved here not too long ago.”

           The less info I gave them the better. Next thing you know connections would start being made and who knows, I could get caught up in those connections.

“Ok Miss Sandy from NY, I want a private show. Al, put that chair in the middle of the floor and sit in it. Sandy…?” Camille ordered.

How does Al deal with such a demanding woman I wonder? I’ll admit she has a way of getting what she wants and how she wants.

“Yes?” I quickly hopped up.

“Dance for Al. Imagine he’s one of your tricks at the job. Dance for him the way you would for your little tricks and if it helps pretend I’m not here. I’ve noticed how turned on Al is by you. So…turn him on more.”

           Big Camille went to her music and played “Falsetto” by the Dream and like a master to it’s puppet she ordered me to dance. Stripping down to my bra, panties, and my ankle boot heels. I slowly walked over to Al, same as if he was a customer at the club. Then I bent towards him and whispered in his ear, “Hey Daddy, my name is Sandy. I’m the girl next door. Want some of my sugar?”

           I felt a bit better stepping into my character Sandy. I created her to be the stereotypical ‘girl next door’ fantasy. That’s why I chose the name Sandy. Al loved every minute of it. His constant ass grabbing and dirty talking gave me quite the hint. So, I continued talking nasty during my performance. “…I’ve been watching you out my window since I moved here. Imagine you bending me over your counter top and sliding in from behind.”  Dry humping him, his bulge grew larger and he licked my ear. Which happened to turn me on but I had to stay in character. Camille was damn near ready to finger herself.

“Uh uh! Looky but no touchy.” I said, teasing Al with every part of my body.

The music shuffle played R.Kelly “Seems Like you’re ready” and following Big Camille’s instructions I focused on Al. It was my world and he was just a tourist in it. Something unusual happened though. The moment we locked eyes we recognized each other’s passion. It was quick, innocent, but an intense moment shared. That was until Camille interrupted because she was ready for the next activity.

“Wooooo! Sandy that was amazing. You two, join me on the bed. Camille demanded as she removed her robe, only revealing her lingerie piece and heels. She kissed Al and then grinned when she looked at me. Right after she kisses me and I mean kissed me. Rubbing, touching, and grabbing me I actually feel embarrassed at how hard I was struggling to keep up with her.

           This is my first time engaging in a threesome especially one like this. I found myself in the middle of Al and Big Camille, all of us touching, kissing, rubbing in the center of their bed. I have to admit that I like it. I felt like this rare but loved caterpillar snuggled in a cocoon of eroticism.  I felt warmth, I felt love, I felt protected. Dammit Al and Camille made me feel so damn good. So caught up in the moment I began to lick on Camille’s pussy. Al followed behind and started making love to my ass using his tongue. That drove me crazy and only enhanced my desire to keep going. Ooohs, ahhhs and other sounds of pleasure echoed the room.

           Sometimes Al sat on the side as he watched his wife and I taste each other while he smoked a cigar. Once or twice I was on the side watching them two go at it while I touched myself. We were going at it for three hours before we decided to take a break. Big Camille wanted to show off her cooking skills 2 in the morning by making us chicken fajitas. That left Al and I upstairs to talk until she returned. Laying across the foot of their bed I grabbed a sheet to cover my butt since I was laying on stomach.

           Al proudly naked, sat on the bed and lit himself another cigar. I took a deep breath inhaling the aroma. Ever since I was a kid cigar smoke always smelled good to me. My grandpa used to smoke one on his porch every afternoon, drink his whiskey and tell us old stories. I guess when Al lit the cigar I felt reminiscent.

“After what the three of us shared you still manage to find a way to be shy.” Al commented, referring to the sheet covering my bottom.

“I felt a little draft” I bashfully chuckled. Al was right however, I am feeling shy. The sex was good, I mean really good and now…what do we talk about?

“Would you like another glass of champagne?” Al offered. I shook my head yes while he poured me another glass.

“How long have you and Big- I mean Camille been doing this…you know…threesomes? I asked.

Al blew the smoke out of his mouth and laughed, I guess at my current inability to communicate.

“For a long time, I’ll say that. Camille and I are adventurous people in every way. One night we were having sex and Camille wasn’t feeling it. To be honest neither was I. We both expressed how we were both bored in bed and yearned for something different. It was my wife actually who suggested bringing other women into our bedroom.

“Wow that’s so cool. There hasn’t been any woman who’ve tried to come in-between?” I asked.

“Of course, but Camille don’t play that shit. We cut ties with a female like that.

I nodded my head in agreeance, “Understood.”

“Tell me Sandy, how did a girl like you from New York end up in D.C. working at Red Velvet?”

“Some things happened and uh…one thing led to another I had to move and ended up here in D.C.”

Al gave me an unsure look insinuating there’s more to my story that I’m not revealing. Blowing a cloud of smoke out his mouth he responded, “Ok, it’s cool. You don’t gotta tell me everything. I understand.”

           Al continued his cigar and for those few awkward minutes the room was silent. Starting to feel like I was being anti-social. I started to open up a little. We were having such a great night so far I didn’t want to ruin it by being a mute.

“…I left New York trying to escape my problems.” I confessed to Al.

“What problems were you escaping?” Al asked.

I finished my glass and poured another.

“My fall out with my family…the end of my relationship…so many things.”

Al chuckled, “So you packed your pretty little bags and ran away?”

“I didn’t look at it as running away. Why remain in a situation that wasn’t healthy? I left a situation that wasn’t healthy.”

Al nodded his head almost as if he was impressed by my actions.

“Understood…and your parents?”

I saw in Al’s face he was showing concern.

“My mom died almost two years ago and my dad been gone.”

I don’t want to discuss my father because I don’t know him. My sisters do but I don’t. Bastard didn’t even show up at my mom’s funeral.

“I’m sorry to hear about your mom. I lost mine when I was about 21, fresh out of college too. It was always me and her and then she was murdered by some two-bit wanna-be thieves breaking into the house.”

Hearing Al’s story almost made me shed a tear. He seems like such a good guy but seeing how far along he came if I were his mom I would be proud.

“Oh my gosh! Al, I’m so sorry.”

“That was over 20 years ago I’m ok now. But you! I gotta keep my eye on you sexy. Can’t have you walking around alone here and unprotected.” Al insisted.

“I’m ok so far- “

“No i don’t think so.” He interrupted. “There’s no reason why you should be alone. You have my number call me anytime you want or need me. The world is cruel Sandy, and the people in it are even worse. Hell naw I ain’t letting nobody scoop you up.”

I’m not exactly sure why Al is being so nice. He barely knows me. I appreciate his gesture but I’ve been doing ok taking care of myself.

“Thanks Al but really I’ll be fine and besides, I have enough debt collectors on my back.”

Al looked at me like I was crazy. “Debt collectors? Baby girl no. I ain’t like that. If I want something in return I’ll let you know. Until then, make sure I remain a contact in your phone. Trust me you’ll never know when you’ll need me.” He informed.

           I accepted his advice and moved right along. Al excused himself and went downstairs to check on his wife. Leaving me alone in the master boudoir. Taking advantage of the alone time. I started glancing around admiring different artifacts and pieces of art they’ve purchased. There were also photos of them when they were younger, wedding pictures and such. Then I came across what appeared to be some family photos. Holy shit they have kids! One son and two girls and their oldest seems to be a little younger than me. Eh she’s cute. Seems like one of those All-American goody two-shoes. Captain of the cheer squad, straight A’s, probably has her own car and everything.

           I wonder what it’s like to be her. To have Al as a father. I bet he gives her anything she wants with just a peck on his cheek. He’s probably a loving father just as much as he’s a loving husband. You know I might take him up on his offer and call him whenever I need him. Ugh no! I can’t. I don’t want Big Camille to think I’m being inappropriate towards her husband. She look a little crazy who knows what she’ll do. All of a sudden I heard footsteps, it was Al letting me know I could come downstairs to eat. I put on my sweater and thong to head downstairs for Camille’s chicken fajitas.