#i literally drive past it for sale every day on the way to the shop and i nnnnnnnnng

[skaianettechsupport]

waiting for when i Strike It Rich so that i can buy my headcanon version of Slick’s Droog’s car and make it perfect im literally foaming at the mouth for it please book me for tattoos so i can squander my money like a Real Man

[base0h]

Hello,

Heard you’re looking for ideas so…

Here’s a crack one: The Straw hats working in a department store

Would they become employee of the month? Would they be fired immediately?

a/n - IM WHEEZING AT THIS— you are GENIUS bro holy crap 😭🫶 dude luffy would get fired so fast it’s insane— and imma just add everyone bc why not 😂

Warnings ⚠️ - MAJOR crack, multiple characters, I’m kinda dumb and might’ve forgotten people

they didn’t even make it past the interview 💀

.✩ kidd (tried killing the interviewer for asking him why he wanted to work there “I really am passionate about restocking— MF IM BROKE.”), buggy, bonney, paulie (did the same thing as kidd plus he parked in the manager’s parking spot)

literally within the first few seconds of the interview they’re hired | “My name is—“ “Can you start within the next few seconds?”

.✩ jimbei, koby, sabo, koala, izou, kaku, vivi

got fired the same day they started

.✩ luffy (ate the entire produce section and then asked the manager “is there more stuff in the back?”), corazon (he accidentally burnt the place down 😀), sanji (confessed his love and asked several female customers to marry him at his cash register), brook (asked for some poor random woman’s underwear 💀)

employee of the month every single month

.✩ jimbei, koby (old people always say how sweet he is to the manager bc he always helps them get the things they can’t reach 😭🫶), tashigi (kids hate her bc she catches them and scolds them if they take an extra candy/sticker from the cashier jar), vivi (accidentally gave herself this title when she’s the manager 💀)

the manager of the store

.✩ nami (steals money from the safe sometimes), aokiji (he literally never shows up to work on time and doesn’t give a shit what the employees do), akainu, fujitora, shanks (bro also does not care and comes to work hungover), dragon (has not shown up once since the interview), sengoku, garp, dadan, vivi, magellan

the sale sign flipper guy

.✩ zoro (if he manages to actually find his way to the store), bepo, ace, shachi, penguin, queen (you legit can’t miss him as you’re driving by 💀), yamato, oden, cat viper, bon clay, ivankov

they work solely in the back to avoid human interaction as much as possible

.✩ mihawk, law, smoker (he’s the guy that mans the big crane machine that moves huge boxes), hawkins, king, katakuri, smoker, lucci

they’re the CEOs of companies that are partners with the store and provide goods for the store to sell

.✩ crocodile (provides gut/immune supporting, healthy, all organic animal/pet food), doflamingo, kaido, big mom, whitebeard, moria (sells and produces copious amounts of Halloween costumes and other decorations)

actually decent employees

.✩ usopp, benn, x drake, robin, nojiko, baby 5, monet, vergo, franky, icebarg, bellamy (SHADOW FROM SK8 PLS TELL ME YALL SEE IT), hachi, killer

they start tweaking because they asked a customer how they were and they ignored them

.✩ shirahoshi (sobbing), bepo, sanji (asked a girl who had her headphones on), Uta (will get so pressed that they ignored her when in reality they just had headphones on)

they’re the reason why the store’s still in business | they’re basically the mascot

.✩ chopper, bepo, carrot, cat viper, dog storm

the dude everyone goes to for questions/help | “Idk go ask ___”

.✩ franky (has beef with cash register 4 bc it stops working for no reason only during his lunch break and never when he’s not doing anything), icebarg, kaku, usopp, lucci, jack, king, robin, jimbei

they’re the reason why no one likes to shop there | they have several weird allegations or felonies of some sort

.✩ trebol, caesar, diamante, dellinger, pica (he drives this mini car and always somehow fits inside it and takes up two spots in the parking lot), absalom, hogback (people have gone missing in the parking lot it’s scary), moria (would you wanna shop if you saw bro? Ik I wouldn’t 😭)

jobless for life ✌️

.✩ rayleigh (he slays idc), roger, yasopp

a/n - I think i forgot people but eh 💀 the one piece brainrot is so back 🙏

[lillian-nator]

Ranch AU

Or, as we all call it, The Cowboy AU 

Essentially, this was something that I created, and it’s gonna be purely fluffy, with a small bit of angst here and there. Any of the angst will be hurt/comfort. It’s meant to make us all feel better after those fucking harsh lore streams. I started it, based off of some shit in the Dad!Schlatt AU, and after that I honestly didn’t write most of it. It had really been a project in the discord, because we were all sad and shit, so if you have some fluff to offer, please do! I am happy to make almost anything canon - and we could always use more ideas. :)

I hope you enjoy some mindless farm boi fluff!

BASIC INFO: 

It's SBI's Ranch (Phil is Dadza, Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur are his sons)

Phil, sells to the local stores, and manages the crops. He doesn't do too much labor anymore. He hired his boys for that.

Dream, SapNap, Purpled, Tubbo, Callahan, and Punz are all hired farm hands

George, Niki, Ranboo, and Fundy work at the shop where they sell their products; Niki makes all of the dairy products, Fundy and Ranboo stock, label prices, and keeps track of sales, and George works customer service with his Gogy magic.

Wilbur works with the sheep, the goats, and he trains the dogs (Collies - they herd sheep), he also works with the crops a lot

Schlatt isn't hired but he might as well be. He can be found wherever Wilbur is, and is probably drinking a beer he stole from Phil. He doesn't get paid, but he eats all of their food.

Tommy works with the cows, the pigs, the chickens, the horses (sometimes), his goose, and the dogs / cats that they own

Tubbo works with Tommy. Essentially. But he also works on the crops, and the bee farm that they have set up.

Techno works with the horses, and is currently training to be a veterinarian.

Dream works on horses with Techno - they race the horses competitively - but otherwise, is where ever he is needed (usually crops)

Purpled works with Tommy and Tubbo. He mostly works with Tubbo on crops and his bee farm.

Punz and SapNap haul things. As your resident Chads, they are in-charge of moving heavy things and doing manual labor.

Callahan is their repair man. He fixes tractors, and machines on a daily basis.

SOME HEADCANNONS: 

HENRY, a saga:

that henry has a matching bandana to the one Tommy has so that everyone knows thats henry. Tommy doesn't like it when people touch henry so henry gets a bandana - Shark -

when Phil first started raising Tommy, he would've never guessed that he would turn out the way he did.

He was loud, and brash, and hit his brothers, and made fun of the neighbor's kids,  but then Tubbo became Tommy's best friend, and then Phil introduced Tommy to the cows.

The cows are Tommy's everything.

When a Bred Heifer is due, he sits with them everyday past their due date - he sat with Betty for 5 days when she wouldn't birth a calf. He was so fucking worried.

When one of his cows are sick, he sleeps in the barn until they get better. His last days with Harvey fucked him up.

Tubbo, Tommy, Purpled, and Ranboo spend long nights at the farm, and Tommy always leans against Henry as he stares up at the stars.

Henry who his best girl (all cows are girls and Tommy doesn't give a shit about gendered names). Henry who wears a matching bandana. Henry who is fluffy, and warm, and Tommy's everything. -

Sometimes when Tommy had a bad day, whether it’s stress, or school, or just whatever, Tommy sleeps in the Henry’s stall with her. Phil has so many pictures of Tommy curled up with Henry. From when she was first born to now. - Eye

Tommy hates winter because that’s the one time of year Phil won’t let him sleep in the barn. Even with the layers and heat lamps it’s too unsafe. Tommy always gets up extra early in the winter. Both because he has to check and break ice in the water troughs but also because he misses his girl - Eye -

Henry's mother, Betty, was the first Cow Tommy had helped during birth. He sat with her for 5 days when she hadn't gone into labor past her due date. It took 9 hours for Henry to be born, and Tommy was there through the entire thing -

Well, almost the entire thing. He was at school for the first hour of labor, and was so pissed at Phil when Phil knew and didn't immediately come get Tommy from School.

It always felt like Tommy and Henry had a special bond because Tommy literally raised Henry from birth. -

They didn't think Henry was gonna make it when she was first born, but Tommy was fucking determined, and bottle fed that cow every single day and night. When she was slowly weened off milk, Tommy got unironically sad that he didn't have to bottle feed her anymore.

He still visited her every morning, and milked her mother at dawn, right after he got eggs from his hens. -

Henry waits for Tommy at the end of their long ass drive way when he gets home from school. She knows that when the bus pulls up that her boy is back and so she’s always there waiting lazily for pets and a nice walk together back to the house. Even when it’s cold and someone is waiting for the kids to get home in an ATV or something Tommy always walks back to the house with Henry - Eye

Thinking about how long these fucking country roads are. And how Tommy and Tubbo have the same bus stop even though Tubbo and Tommy's houses are a couple of miles away. Tommy has to walk a mile to get to the beginning of his driveway, and seeing his favorite girl there is like a reward at the end of a journey. Tommy probably keeps a bag of feed in his backpack, which is just a mixture of grain, hay and corn, and gives Henry a handful to thank her for waiting for him.

Clementine, The Goose: 

Tommy has a goose, and names it Clementine. 

He found her in the woods one day, when she was very young, and he decided he was going to keep Clementine. 

Clementine is only ever nice to Schlatt and Tommy. No one knows why. 

Clementine follows Tommy around. Very endearing. 

Phil doesn’t question it at this point 

NEW MILO, the sequel:

OG Milo is a kitten that Wilbur found on the side of the road, in the rain, and he took the kitten in, trying to save him. Wilbur immediately got attached.

Techno pulled an all nighter, half spent  trying to save OG Milo and the other half comforting Wilbur. "You couldn't have helped, he was too starved and out in the rain for too long." Phil adds that if Techno can't save something, it can't be saved. - Ethan

Wilbur's next cat was named New Milo in honor - Ethan

Anyway, New Milo has three kittens. Blood God, Boots (given to Fundy), and Bumbles (given to Tubbo). They're called the Bees and they were born Christmas Eve - Ethan

BLOOD GOD, the pussy:

Blood God is Techno's cat. Its just a ferall little molly that loves techno too much. - M -

After Techno helped New Milo have her litter, he wasn't originally gonna keep any of the kittens, but he saw this tiny thing with the orange muzzle and just: stole her.

He is also nicknamed Blood God, for both his skill in hunting and healing

He originally named her Piglet because the orange spot looked like a pig snout [the main reason he chose her and not her stronger littermates] but called her Blood God teasingly when he first adopted her

Wilbur didn't realize he meant it as a nickname and told everyone her name was Blood God

Techno still calls her Piglet, but everyone else calls her Blood God because that's the name on her collar.

Most of their cats aren't collared, but Phil made her a custom collar because he was worried she'd get lost hunting with Techno and Dream - Ethan -

Blood God is such a batshit cat. She's a runt, really, oddly small compared to her siblings, and she's their best mouser

She's the cat that everyone leaves scraps for, but never tries to pet out of fear

Often she'll climb up people's legs and sit on their shoulders, and it's the only time you can pet her.

She is very, very affectionate with Techno and he loves her very much. He has her very well trained, and she comes with him and Dream when they go hunting sometimes alongside a terrier.

She's a little itty bitty calico molly and she has an orange patch right over her muzzle - Ethan

TOMMY'S HENS, the chicks:

He gets real defensive of his hens. They lay eggs for him. They deserve to be treated well. -

Tommy does in fact have an egg incubator; Sometimes it's just better. Tommy prefers letting his hens care for their own eggs, but he does still use the incubator - Ethan -

Some chickens enjoy being thrown so they can flap and shit. A few days after passing ownership of the hens to Tommy, Phil is going down to the crops and just sees Tommy chucking his hens and watching them rush back to be thrown again

he feels a hint of "what the hell" but he notes the gentleness tommy does it with and how the chickens seem to be enjoying it and he shrugs and keeps walking - Ethan -

Once Wilbur was helping Tommy with the chickens and he dropped an egg

Unfertilized, of course, but Tommy looked like you'd just punted a toddler

Three years later, Wilbur isn't allowed to touch the eggs anymore

Tommy's paranoid he'll hurt a live one

"Get out." "What - Tommy it was an accident, it was just one egg." "If you aren't gonna treat Phoebe's eggs with care; You can get the fuck out." "Tommy -" "Out." -

the quality chicken eggs depends usually on how the chicken feels. While under his care, the eggs the chickens produced were really good.

Under Tommy's care? Phil's eggs tasted like horseshit in comparison - Ethan -

They have their like, main barn and to the side of it is a little pond. The chicken coops are a little beside it, with the singular duck coop (he only has four ducks) closest. He calls the area the Business Bay

AGES: 

Tommy - 16 Tubbo - 16 Purpled - 17 Ranboo - 17

Techno - 19 Wilbur - 21 Schlatt - 19 Phil - idk like 45 or some dad shit

Fundy - 18 Niki - 19

SapNap - 18 Dream - 19 George - 20 Punz - 19 Callahan - 20

RANDOM HC’S: 

Tubbo, Niki, Ranboo, and Fundy are siblings. -

Whenever they eat meat they talk about who they're eating. 

They tell stories about their day and such but they always start dinner, when its meat, saying "rip lmao" and telling stories about them

...they don’t do it when they eat beef

Everyone sitting down with their plates of ham Wilbur: so who was it? Phil: Fern Tommy, already eating: rest in peace fern Techno: he shat on my boots once -

Each of the boys get a few animals that aren't allowed to be butchered.

Wilbur has Friend, Enemy, and Skit the Bull. (Wilbur wanted to name a Bull "Shit", but Phil said no because Tommy was 11 and already swearing too much for his liking)

Techno has none of the livestock. He only cares about Blood God, and his horses.

Tommy has a pig [currently unnamed], his Hens (6 or 7 of them, that lay eggs), and his dairy cows -

Phil is ALWAYS chewing on straw. -

Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur all call Phil "Pops" or "Pop". They all used to call him "Papa" though. It's like a coming of age thing for the three of them, when they stop calling him "Papa" and start calling him "Pop".

Phil may or may not have cried when Tommy started calling him "Pop" at the age of 12.

ALTHOUGH, all 3 boys know that if you want anything, you call Phil "Papa". Phil can't resist it. -

Techno and Tommy with starry eyes: pops Phil: no Wilbur: Papa Phil, with slightly less confidence: n-no   - Ethan -

Tommy holding a baby calf in his hands that he walls to bring inside for the night because hes in love with her: papa please!! Phil, practically in tears: fine.   - M

[bopbopstyles]

harry shaved and you’re mad

@bfharry​ texted the concept in the gc, i wrote it

“You didn’t.”

Harry stood in the doorway of the living room, a guilty expression all over his face. “It was itchy,” he said, voice quiet and dejected because he knows he’s in trouble. “’m sorry.”

You got up and walked over to him, your feet padding along the hardwood floors of your home. When you reached him, you lifted her hand and ran your fingers across his now bare chin, the beard you adored gone. “You promised me you wouldn’t shave!”

“It was itchy!” He said again, arms flailing at his side. “’s not like you’ve got one and understand. It’s fuckin’ annoying.”

You frown and pull away, turning your back to him. “See how annoying it is when you’re not getting any until it’s grown back.”

“Babe!” He whined, pulling on your wrist. “‘m sorryyyy. Please don’t do this.”

You secretly loved winding him up like this. Seeing him whine and beg for you to touch him, his face contort in literal pain when you walked past him naked after a few days of refusing him. You only did it when he deserved it, and this time, he really fucking deserved it. 

Harry’s beard had always been your kryptonite, and you barely got a chance to see it. He rarely let it grow out, but when he did you couldn’t get enough of him. The amount of time you begged him to go down on you just because of the feeling of his whiskers on your skin sent you onto another planet, or when you rubbed your cheek against his chin in the morning, loving the feeling. This had been the longest he had kept them for, and you had made him promise last week that he wouldn’t shave without your permission. 

Obviously, he had ignored that promise. 

“If you wanted me to touch you, should’ve thought before shaving. Now come on, we’ve still got to go to Aesop.”

He huffed, but followed you out to the car, sliding into the driver’s seat with an annoyed expression on his face. The whole drive to the Aesop in Hampstead you didn’t say anything to him, just looked out the window and listened to the radio, winding him up like you loved to. He hated silence in the car and you knew it. 

When you pulled up to the shop, he grabbed the box of masks from the center console and pulled out two, one for you and one for him. But you shook your head at him. “I’m not going in.”

His eyebrows furrowed as he pulled the strings over his ears, mask sitting securely on his face. “Why?”

“Consider it part two of your punishment.”

He rolled his eyes at you before pulling the keys out of the ignition. “Good thing I love you.”

You handed him the list of items you needed refills of--since you’d gotten back the soap in all the bathrooms were running low and you needed new ones. Harry could be such a space cadet sometimes and always forgot which ones exactly you liked. He’d come home with almost the right soap and moan and groan when you forced him to return it. 

But he always did, because he was whipped for you in every possible way. 

He shut the door behind him and you watched as his white trousers and denim jacket moved towards the store. You loved being home in Hampstead because Harry was more relaxed, not as worried about paps and such. He just wanted to live his simple life, and you loved every minute of it. 

You fumbled with your phone for a few minutes, and then looked back to the window of the store. You caught sight of Harry, his sunglasses pushed up on top of his hair (which you’d trimmed over the weekend, since it was bothering him so much), one hand stuffed in his pocket. A small child was standing next to him, and you smiled--he was taking a photo with a fan.

They had a brief exchange, and then you watched the child and his mum leave. Harry finished up the shopping, consulting the list you’d given him like it was a prized text, before taking the items up to the sales associate to pay. 

He wandered out, a large bag in his hand, keys in the other, and you smiled at him. Somehow he always managed to look utterly gorgeous, even when going to pick up soap. 

“Meet a fan?” You asked when he slid into the seat next to you, placing the bag on your lap for safe keeping. You rummaged through and confirmed he’d bought all the right things.

Harry turned the ignition over and smiled. “Yeah, they were adorable. Couldn’t resist.”

“So good to them,” you told him. 

“And for you,” he reminded you, his sunglasses falling over his eyes. Behind them you knew laid a mischievous expression, one that always cut through your defenses. 

“You wish, mister.” You weren’t going to give up so fast. If Harry wanted to trim his beard, he would have to reap the consequences, no matter how hard it was for you to hold out on him, especially when he was so goddamn adorable.

[swan--writes]

BJ’s V-Day

In which BJ fucks with reader’s chocolate, and reader is Upset.

It’s still Valentine’s Day in some places, right? Shut up. It’s been a busy day.

Warnings: food, swan-typical language

It started at the coffee shop. (Of course it did.)

You ordered the same coffee that you always did, from the same barista you always saw, but something was different that day. The coffee was darker and colder, and more viscous than usual. It was almost sour, and the way it sloshed around in the paper cup made your stomach churn. When you frowned at the barista who had made it, he gave you a too-wide grin and an unnerving wink. (His teeth were so pointy, was that normal?) You scurried out of the shop and onto the street of your small Connecticut town. You had not been back since.

That was only the first of February.

Next came the florist’s. You had been to the florist every week since you moved to this small town. It was cozy enough that you didn’t feel pressured to place a massive order, and you preferred small business flowers to the grocery store selection. And you loved fresh flowers. (Everybody has their thing, this was yours.)

Now, you would swear that when you chose your bouquet, it was beautiful. The blooms were fresh, the leaves were perky, and the roses were vibrant.

By the time the florist had packaged it for you, it was a red and black mess right out of an early My Chemical Romance music video. Great for art. Kitchen counters? Not as much.

Of course, you were too nice to say anything. You simply had to contend with half-dead roses, wilting on their stems. They were all blackened edges, wrinkled petals, and falling leaves. The florist gave you an even wider grin than the barista had, and you walked out even faster than you had the coffee shop.

It was only day four.

After the roses – which had only lasted two days in your house before the blooms fell dead away (literally) – was the truffles. This was almost your breaking point.

All of the convenience store chocolate was discounted for Valentine’s Day, just five days away now. It was on your way home from work, and you couldn’t force yourself to just drive past it. So, in you went, and there you bought, and then you went home. You had gone through the self-checkout, but one of the cashiers kept giving you sidelong looks.

At the convenience store, you had tried to ignore them, but they were all you could think about when you bit into the first truffle. The chocolate shell was mostly fine, if a touch bitter. The filling was dust. (Literal, actual dust.)

So, like any rational person, you spent the next fifteen minutes gagging over the sink, then grabbed a knife. You sliced clean through every single truffle. Most of them crumbled from the pressure of your knife, and all of them were the same. Truffle after truffle – two full boxes – were all filled with dust.

Well, all but one.

In the center of the second box, there was one truffle that did not crumble. It was densely packed with a thick, old piece of paper. The paper felt leathery between your fingers when you picked it out of the chocolate shell, almost like parchment.

When you saw what was written on it, you all but stabbed your knife through it.

Bad coffee? Okay. Dead flowers? Fine. But nobody fucked with your chocolate and remained in your good graces.

The next five days only upped the ante.

Your trusty diner somehow dropped every single Valentine’s Day éclair on the floor as soon as you arrived. Your supervisor lost her box of valentines before she could hand them out at your office. Your set of Valentine’s decorated mason jars somehow fell from your entertainment center and shattered when you walked by. (A good four feet away from the table, because that made complete sense.) But the final straw came on day fourteen, first thing on Valentine’s Day. (Of course it did.)

When you opened the door to take the trash out, you felt it knock something over. It was mostly dark outside, and you didn’t fully see what it was until you brought it inside. Once you were under proper lighting, you saw that you were holding a black teddy bear about the size of your torso.

When you shook the bear to make sure there was nothing inside, however, the head immediately twisted off and flew away to who knows where? A foul-smelling green slime began oozing from the severed neck. You shrieked and dropped the bear. Slime and wet dirt spilled onto your kitchen floor.

“Oh my--no, y’know what? Fine,” you groused. “Fine! I give up.” You backed away from the decapitated bear and stomped through the kitchen to your living room.

Your house was old, and you could hear the creaking of the floorboards underneath the banging of your steps. You could hear the sizzle of whatever the slime was doing to your kitchen floor. And you could hear the wind that kicked up when you spoke the words from the parchment you had found in your discount truffle.

“Beetlejuice!”

Something in the house groaned – a low, ominous sound.

“Beetlejuice.”

A layer of fog covered your windows. (Several layers.) It crept in at your window corners with a draft, and a gray murk. It nipped at your ankles, and leapt at your wrists, and seemed to amplify the sizzling in your kitchen.

You swallowed. “Beetlejuice!”

Lightning flashed. You closed your eyes, but it didn’t do much good. The wind whipped around you. You tried to turn your face against it, but it was everywhere and coming from all sides. Without thinking, you covered your ears and stumbled back a step.

Then, all at once, it stopped.

When you opened your eyes, you saw your demon boyfriend leaning on the doorjamb with his back to you. Beetlejuice gave a low whistle when he saw the teddy bear he had left you eating a hole in your floorboards.

“Damn babes, you’re gonna have to get someone out here to fix that.”

Rather than humor him, you glared at his back. His suit jacket was barely holding together, and you could see a long, thin strip of his shirt through it. “The mason jars? Really? You know I loved those.”

Without moving his feet, Beetlejuice’s head turned fully around to face you, nose wrinkled in a grimace. “Those cheap old things? C’mon baby, you can find a hundred of them at literally any Purgatory yard sale.” His eyes lit up. “In fact–”

“Oh no, I’ve had enough of that place. And hey, what have you been doing in town this month anyway? You said you’d be tied up until March.”

“Oh I was, sweet cheeks.” Beetlejuice waggled his eyebrows at you. You walked up to him and slapped his arm. “Whoa, babes!” The force of it seemed to radiate through his entire body. (Corpse?) His knees wobbled, his hips jostled, and you could swear you heard rattling from somewhere near his ribcage. “Easy! I’ve been doing a lot of strenuous physical activity this month.”

“Oh yeah? Fucking with me almost every day has been strenuous?”

“Hey, you coulda just summoned me when I asked you to.”

“You didn’t ask, you ruined my bargain-bin chocolate.”

“Oh, forgive me.” You rolled your eyes at his tone.

Beetlejuice turned around on his feet, facing you with his shoulders. Then he groaned, reached up, and spun his head around. “Whoa!” he cried. His head rotated a few times on his neck before finally coming to a stop.

When he brought his hands down again, Beetlejuice was holding the oozing teddy bear’s head. He held it out to you.

“I’m sorry for fucking with you all month.”

You gave him a look, but melted when you saw the pink creeping through the roots of his otherwise green hair. “Fine,” you conceded. “But you owe me.” Against your best self-preserving judgment, you took the stuffed head from him. A few clumps of wet dirt fell from the bottom where it was still severed and onto the floor. You kissed its cheek anyway, and only winced a little from its coldness.

Beetlejuice took the head back, flung it back over his shoulder, wrapped his arms around you, and dipped you. You gave a very undignified squeak that you would never admit to later.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, babes,” he growled.

“Happ--mmf!”

.

.

please like and reblog if you are so moved

tags list: @missihart23 @ballerinafairyprincess @thewolfisapartofmysoul

if you would like to get on the tags list, please let me know!

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Forever

One Shot- Out Of My League

Intro: Steve can tell Katie’s feeling a little bit down. But in true Cap style, he’s not gonna give up until he figures out why and a way to make it better….

Warnings: Bad language. NSFW (SMUT!) No under 18s.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N:  Someone once commented when reading Stark Spangled Banner that they felt like Katie loved Steve more than he loved her, and that got me seriously doubting the way I had written Steve as that is most certainly not the case. The pair of them are ridiculously in love and Steve is utterly besotted with his girl, and let’s not forget spent fifteen years alone in the past to ensure he could come back to her and live the rest of his days out with the love of his life. Also worth remembering he came back looking like Ari Levinson (it was the 70s) and he kept the beard simply because she liked it…what better declaration of love?!

With this in mind, I asked a few people what they thought and @icanfeelastormbrewing​ came back with a perfect song which she said she feels en-CAP=sulates (pun intended) Steve’s feelings towards Katie. So I’ve taken a different format to usual and pulled together a Song Based Fic based on a little request from @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ for some soft Steve.

Written with Steve’s POV in mind.

The song is Stephen Speaks- Out Of My League. Take a listen, because it’s phenomenally beautiful.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Forever Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 September 2027

It’s her hair and her eyes today That just simply take me away And the feeling that I’m falling further in love Makes me shiver but in a good way

“Hey Pal.” Steve smiled softly, picking his baby son up out of the basinet. Instantly Harry’s soft whimpers died down as he pressed his face into his dad’s shoulder, his soft head nuzzling into the crook of Steve’s neck.

“You hungry?” He asked gently, carrying the six week old baby into the kitchen to grab him a bottle out of the fridge. Once he’d warmed it, checked it, he returned to the sitting room and began to feed him, Harry’s little cheeks working eagerly as he took his milk. Steve watched as his baby boy turned his bright blue eyes onto his and he smiled down at his son, gently adjusting his arms to make sure he was settled comfortably before he glanced up at the clock.

Katie should be back soon from dropping the elder two littles off and Steve was hoping that Rori had decided to get out of the damned car without a full on fight like the one he’d had with her the previous morning. His little Star Spangled Diva really wasn’t happy about the fact she had to go to Nursery when Harry could stay home all day. And she didn’t care when he’d explained to her that Harry was a baby and therefore was too little to go to nursery. She’d screamed and screamed and yelled about the fact that it wasn’t fair but her tantrum had simply made Steve even more determined get her out of the car and through the fucking door. In the end he had carried her in and explained to the familiar members of staff from Jamie’s time there, what was going on.They’d simply smiled at him, told him they’d dealt with worse (he didn’t voice the fact that he seriously doubted that) and he’d set her down on the floor, crouched in front of her and told her to be a good girl and he’d be back in a few hours, leaving her screaming behind him as he walked off. It had almost killed him but he was thankful it was him doing it and not Katie as she constantly doubted her decisions at a mother as it was and he knew that, despite all the teasing Katie did about Rori being Steve’s little Princess, she would be the one that caved and brought her home as she couldn’t bear to leave her behind, screaming.

Both of them loved Rori with everything they had, just the same as all their kids, but Jesus Christ she was the hardest one to deal with out of the lot of them, especially when she didn’t get her own way. Just like her mother, Steve often teased Katie, although he knew that deep down that was a slightly un-fair comparison. Whilst Katie was certainly prone to her little brat moments, she was utterly selfless when it came to the kids and her family and friends, one of the many things he adored about her.

Lucky’s ears pricked up, and his tail started to thump against the rug and moments later Steve heard the door open and shut. She walked into the living room and he instantly frowned at her face, he could see she’d been crying.

“Honey?” He asked, looking at her as she walked towards him, running her finger softly over Harry’s cheek.

“I literally fed him about an hour before I left.” She chuckled, avoiding Steve’s questioning eyes. “You and your damned serum.” Steve watched her as she sat down next to him, tucking her legs under her on the chair, her long hair falling over her face slightly.

“Katie,” he spoke a little more sternly and he saw her take a deep breath and turn her face to him, “what’s wrong? Was she a pain in the ass again?” “No, actually, she was perfect.” Katie smiled. “Got out of the car, walked in, smiled at everyone and headed off to play. I nearly fainted in surprise.” “So why have you been crying?” “I had a baby six weeks ago, it’s just hormones. Honestly, I’m fine.” Steve could tell she was lying, he always could. Her eyes avoided his as she couldn’t ever lie to his face. But whatever it was she didn’t want to tell him so he let it slide.

For now.

“Okay” he said, looking at her. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking, why don’t we head out for the afternoon?”

“Shouldn’t you be prepping ready for going back for your pre-term meetings next week?” She looked at him and he shrugged.

“I’ll catch up.” He said with a smile. “Spending time with you is more important.”

Katie smiled and peered over at Harry who had stopped drinking. Steve gently placed the bottle onto the coffee table and moved Harry so he was over his shoulder, rubbing at his back.

“Anywhere in mind?”

“Well,” Steve looked at her, “we really should get you a new car.”

“Steve, I’m not…” “Just, hear me out,” he said, silencing her. “I’m not asking you to get rid of the Camero, I know how much that car means to you.”

She looked down and took a deep breath. “I know it’s stupid, it’s a lump of metal but…” “Tony got it you, I know.” Steve said softly “But I’m driving it now all the time because you need the Audi for the kids so I thought maybe we should get another one. The Camero can be your little, I dunno, fun car.” “Fun car?” Katie looked at him, smiling as he shrugged.

“Yeah, one that we can snatch a drive in every once in a while when we’re alone. Although I know that hardly happens now.” Katie gave a chuckle, before she shrugged. “Okay, we could go car hunting I suppose.” “And grab lunch?” Steve looked at her.

“Sure.” She nodded before she smiled a little.

“What you thinking?” Steve asked. “How much I loved my range rover that I got for my twenty-first.” A fond look crossed her face. Steve smiled, that had been the car she’d had when he’d first met her, and it had been flatted under the triskelion.

“Yeah, that was a nice car. Why don’t we go and see about getting you another one?”

“Yeah, maybe…” At that point Harry let out a burp and both parents looked at him, Steve giving his head a kiss.

“Here, I’ll take him. You go get showered and then we can head out.” Katie gestured with her arms. Steve gently passed him over and she held him close, his head resting on her chest, his little legs supported by her arms. Steve stood up, dropped a soft kiss to his wife’s lips and then headed up the stairs to get changed.

***** All the times I have sat and stared As she thoughtfully thumbs through her hair And she purses her lips, bats her eyes and she plays with me Sitting there slack-jawed and nothing to say

The car shopping went better than Steve had anticipated. The minute Katie had sat in one of the vehicles in the Range Rover showroom he’d seen her face light up, as she checked all the buttons and the various gadgets the car had, asking the sales man various questions. Forty minutes or so later, after a heavy negotiation during which his wife had almost reduced the salesman to a quivering wreck, they left, Katie having ordered a Firenze red Range Rover Velar. Katie had smiled at the colour, saying it reminded her of Tony’s Iron Man suit, which had made Steve chuckle a little at her confession.

And then she had suggested that they look for a newer car for Steve too. He’d protested at first, as he didn’t think he needed one but she’d shrugged and simply replied ‘when is anything we buy ever really about what we need?’

As a result, they’d swung into the Porsche showroom on their way back in, and an hour later Steve was the owner of a sleek silver Cayenne in a grey-blue colour, with tan leather interior which would be delivered in about ten weeks, not long before Katie’s was due. He’d fallen in love with the model the moment he had sat inside it. It was fancy, well finished, and felt beyond luxurious. And on the test drive he’d taken whilst Katie fed Harry again, it was fucking fast too, which easily satisfied his inner speed-demon.

“Well that was an expensive morning.” Steve grinned as they sat in the small bistro not far from Jamie’s school, Harry once more asleep in his pram as they both studied the menu.

“We’ve had worse.” Katie smiled and Steve snorted, taking a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, okay the house. I’ll give you that.” She smiled and Steve watched her glance through the menu, her hand brushing her hair back behind her ears as she bit her lip and studied the options for lunch. And there it was again, that look on her face, the one he knew meant something was bothering her. Before he had chance to push her further on it the waiter appeared and they placed their order. Steve opting for a pizza, because well he’d eat that stuff every meal of the day if he could, and Katie went for a chicken Caesar salad stating she fancied a change from her usual choice here of Carbonara. Steve waited until the man had bustled off before he reached over the table and gently took Katie’s hand.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, honestly.” She looked at him, and he sighed, shaking his head.

“You know I can tell when you’re holding back on me. I’ve known you for too long now sweetheart.” She looked down at the table and took a breath, “Steve, I don’t wanna talk about it, not here, not now.”

“Katie…” “Please.” She looked at him, her eyes wide as she shook her head “Don’t.” Steve took a deep breath and sat back, holding his hands up in surrender “Okay, but this is not the end of this conversation.” “Don’t I know it,” she grumbled, giving him a look, “you’re like a dog with a bone when you get going.” “I’ll give you a bone if you want.” He quipped, dropping his voice and leaning over the table. It wasn’t often he made a dirty joke like that in public, but it had the desired effect. Her cheeks flushed and she raised an eyebrow at him, a cheeky grin flitting across her face, whatever worry it was she had forgotten for the moment.

“Steven Grant Rogers.” She sniggered, shaking her head and he shrugged, leaning back in his chair, eyeing her over his beer as he took a sip.

“You don’t want?” He titled his head to the side. “I didn’t say that.” “So you do…”

“Piss off, Steve.” She laughed, making him grin again.

**** ‘Cause I love her with all that I am And my voice shakes along with my hands 'Cause she’s all that I see And she’s all that I need And I’m out of my league once again

“Daddy!” Rori shrieked as Steve walked into the nursery. He smiled as she barrelled towards him and he scooped her up, placing a kiss to her cheek.

“Hey, princess!” He smiled, “You had a good day?” “Yeah we did erm painting and some games and I fallded over but I’m okay.” “She took a tumble when they were outside on the playground.” Sally, one of the nursery assistants advised Steve, passing him an envelope. “It wasn’t anything major, she bumped her knee. She didn’t seem to even notice, or care, but we’re obliged to write it up.” “Thanks.” Steve smiled, taking the report from her and tucking it into his pocket. He wasn’t worried, she was like her brother in that respect. The half of her that was him was her robustness to general knocks and tumbles and germs, thanks to the serum. He placed her down on the floor and told her to collect her things, watching as she headed over to the little peg that contained her small pink backpack and her jacket.

“How’s the little one?” Sally asked and Steve turned to her, smiling.

“He’s great.” Steve beamed. “Such a placid baby, in comparison to the other two anyway, certainly her.” He added with a nod towards Rori. Sally chuckled. “Yeah, a lot of parents say that the youngest ones are often the easiest. I think it’s because as Parents you relax a little more and they feel it. You should tell Mrs Rogers to bring him in one morning, we’ve not met him yet.” “I will.” Steve smiled, nodding as Rori came back. He gently helped her put her jacket on before he stood up, thanked the staff again and led her outside to the car.

“Where’s momma?” Rori asked.

“She’s at home with Harry. We just gotta go pick Jamie up and then we can go home.” “Okay.” she said. She fell silent for a moment before she suddenly chirped up again. “Daddy, my knee hurts.”

Steve glanced down at her sceptically as he opened the car door. “Does it? Or are you just angling for sympathy?” Rori pondered for a moment before she grinned. “Sympathy.”

Steve snorted, she was honest at least. He sat her in her car seat in the back of the car, buckling her in before he pressed a kiss to the knee she was pointing at. “Better?” “Yes, fankoo.” “You’re welcome.” He smiled, shutting the door and heading to the driver’s side to climb in. He drove the few blocks to Jamie’s school, pulling into the pick-up area and nodded to the staff member who was on duty. Jamie waved and Steve had to snort at the state of him. His tie was completely wonky, his jacket was open, shirt untucked… typical seven year old boy. He shot over to the car as Steve climbed out, opening the trunk so he could stick his rucksack in the back before he moved to give his dad a quick hug.

“Had a good day, Son?”

Jamie nodded and climbed into the car, sitting on the booster in the front. Steve clipped him in and then made to head home.

“Guess what me and Momma did today.” Steve looked at Jamie as he pulled out of the school grounds and onto the road.

“What?” “Bought two new cars.” “What did you get?” Jamie grinned

“Well, Momma got a range rover, a red one. And I got a Porsche.” “Cool.” Jamie nodded his approval. “Is momma happier now?”

Steve frowned. “What makes you ask that, buddy?” “When we dropped Rori off before she got upset.”

“Did she say why?” “She told me when we walked back to the car that it was just her feelings from having Harry.” Jamie shrugged.

Steve pondered for a moment, his thumb tapping on the steering wheel before he turned to his son again. “Did she speak to anyone when you dropped Rori off?” “Just Sally.” Jamie shrugged. “There were some other ladies there but Momma didn’t speak to them.”

“Okay, well, don’t worry about it.” Steve nodded to assure the boy. He knew Jamie hated seeing his mother upset. “She’s fine, like she said, just her feelings from Harry.” They drove home, Steve chatting to Jamie and Rori as they went but his mind was still on his wife. He knew now that whatever was bothering her had to be something to do with Rori’s nursery, or something that had happened when she had dropped her off.

And it gave him an angle to approach her with.

In typical fashion, the kids shot into the kitchen and Katie greeted them both with a smile from where she had been stood preparing their dinner. The two of them began instantly gabbling away, both filling her in about their day and Steve leaned on the doorway, watching as his wife talked to both of them, crouching down to look them both in the eyes as they thrust various pieces of paper at her. He loved watching her interact with their children, it was simply something he found astonishing how easy it came to her. Being a mother had highlighted every single trait he found so damned attractive about her even more and it lit a fire in his belly every single time he saw it.  She glanced up at him and he gave her a smile, pushing off the door frame and walking into the room, passing Harry who was still asleep in the basinet in the corner of the room.

“He not woke up?” Steve asked and Katie shook her head.

“We’re gonna suffer for that tonight.” She sighed and Steve chuckled, dropping a kiss to her cheek.

“Jamie,” he turned to his son who’s hand was sneaking up onto the counter next to Katie to grab a piece of cheese she had been grating. Jamie grinned at his dad as he popped into his mouth with a shrug. Steve rolled his eyes, smiling, “go change pal, get out of your uniform.”

“Okay.” he agreed, heading out of the kitchen.

“I change too, daddy?” Rori looked at him.

“You don’t need to.”

“But I want to.” She folded her arms and Steve looked at Katie who gave a snort as they both observed their little Diva.

“What do you want to change into?” Steve asked, picking her up.

“Bumble bear.” “You wanna wear your bear onesie?”

She nodded.

“Alright, come on.”

He held his hand out to her and she took it, the pair of them heading upstairs. Fifteen minutes later, both kids were settled in the den, the pair of them looking at a jigsaw puzzle. Telling Jamie that he was on ‘big brother’ duties, basically an instruction to be careful and keep Rori out of mischief as much as he could, he headed into the kitchen to find Katie now wiping down the counters, a pasta bake in the oven.

“Jamie said you were upset this morning after you left the nursery.” Steve’s arms wrapped around his wife from behind and he felt her still slightly “Come on, Doll, what’s been eating you all day?”

“Nothing, I’m just being stupid.” She shrugged, turning in his arms to look at him.

“Katie,” his voice was stern and he lowered his head slightly, his eyebrows raising as he gave her a look that instructed her to tell the truth.

With a sigh she lowered her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I just overheard a few of the moms talking that’s all, I don’t think they realised I was behind them. It’s no big deal.” “What were they saying?” “They just,” Katie took a deep breath, “they made a comment about Rori and how like me she looked, and then one of them said or at least how I used to look anyway.”

Steve frowned, staying silent and waiting for her to finish.

“Then they kinda laughed and said that I’d certainly ‘let myself go’ a little after the latest one,” she raised her hands and framed the offending three words with phrase marks by bending the index and middle fingers on each hand forward twice in symmetry.

Steve fought hard to keep his face straight and not display they anger he was feeling inside. Fuck, he loved this woman, and the thought of anyone saying something so damned cruel it would upset her made him furious.

“They manage to look all neat and tidy for the school run and I,” Katie shook her head, “it’s all I can do to make sure my top is on the right way round.

“Honey,” Steve shook his head, “we have three small kids, all who need breakfast and dressing in the morning, and one of whom is barely six weeks old.” “Yeah I know, and I know I need to give myself time but,” she shrugged, “you know that each time I’ve been pregnant I’ve kept some weight somewhere.” “So?” Steve frowned

“I don’t know, I guess I just miss being the size I was. It doesn’t matter, I told you, I was being stupid.” She shook her head. “I’ll get over it.”

Steve looked at her for a second, his head cocked to one side. Whilst it was true that post Jamie her hips had remained slightly larger as had her chest. And the added curve to her ass hadn’t completely been there before she’d had Rori, but her stomach had returned to being fairly flat post both of their previous kids, even if it wasn’t a washboard of muscle like it had when she was at the peak of her SHIELD or Avenging days. Her waist had remained fairly small and all of this had simply given her a killer hourglass figure he fucking loved, and one that he’d noticed various other men casting approving glances over on more than one occasion.

And yes, now six weeks after giving birth she was still carrying extra baby weight over and above all that but Steve frankly didn’t’ give a shit. She was gorgeous to him, and always would be.

“Well I don’t miss it.” Steve looked at her, his hands falling to her hips as he pulled her closer. “Sweetheart, before Jamie you were tiny, it’s skewing your perception. I could practically connect my hands around your waist.” She looked at him as he continued, to speak, shaking his head. “We’ve both changed, as you told me not long ago.”

“But it looks good on you.”

“Yeah, and having our babies looks good on you, too.” He pressed and she gave a soft smile, looking at him. “Just don’t think on it please, I love you. I always will. You know this.” “I know, sorry, like I said, I was just having an off day and,” she nuzzled into his chest as his strong arms wrapped around her back, “I guess the hormones kinda made it worse.”

“Well I’ll make it better later.” He grinned, leaning down to kiss her.

“Yeah, you finally gonna give me that bone?” She snorted and he laughed.

“Damned right…” he muttered, his lips brushing hers lightly. “My baby momma…” ******

It’s a masterful melody When she calls out my name to me As the world spins around her she laughs, rolls her eyes And I feel like I’m falling but it’s no surprise

Steve’s hands were all over his wife as she sat, straddled over his lap on the sofa. After putting the kids to bed they’d been cuddled up watching a film, and he’d simply been watching her sat there, playing with her hair, biting her thumb, and then his self-control had finally snapped and he had pulled her onto his lap with one aim only.

His mouth trailed soft kisses up her neck to that spot behind her ear as his fingers began gently undoing the buttons on the front of the plaid shirt she was wearing, the shirt that as ever belonged to him. He opened them slowly one by one and Katie moved her head to catch his mouth with hers, her tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. He obliged, opening his mouth, his own tongue dipping into hers with smooth strokes as he gently reached the last button of the shirt and pushed it down over her shoulders, where it dropped to the floor.

His forehead pressed to hers and he looked down at her, giving a soft groan as his hands gripped her hips pulling her down further onto his lap, grinding up against her through his sweats. He was rock hard already, the sight of her sat on front of him was enough to make him lose his mind completely.

“You’re beautiful.” He mumbled, his lips grazing over her collar bone as one of his hands slid up her body, where it gently began to knead at her bra clad breast, softly teasing her nipple beneath the lace. He knew she was tender there, and he couldn’t go to town on them as much as he would like to but that was another thing that fucking turned him on so much. The fact that she was nursing his baby son, knowing that her body was nurturing him was so goddamned fucking amazing it had him low key horny all the time.

“Off…” She mumbled against his lips, hands grabbing at the bottom of his T’shirt and Steve sat forward slightly to allow her to pull it over his head and her hands ran through his hair, down his now bare back and up again, before she gently cupped her face with her hands, the pads of her fingers gently pressing into the whiskers of his beard as she leaned down for another kiss. Steve’s large hands flattened on her back, pulling her closer to him, their chests pressed together, lips locked deeply. Once more Steve titled his hips, causing Katie’s breath to catch in her throat and she pulled away slightly to look at him, Steve’s own breathing hitching slightly at the look of love and adoration his wife had on her face. One he knew he was mirroring completely.

Tilting his hips slightly, he raised them both easily off the sofa, and Katie instantly worked his sweats and boxers down over his slim waist. Without another second of hesitation he moved her panties to one side with one hand as he grasped his achingly hard cock in the other as Katie gently positioned herself before she sank down slowly onto him giving a soft mewl as he filled her, his hands returning to her waist once she had taken him in completely. With a grunt of his own, he held her still for a moment, before he bucked his hips upwards, Katie meeting him as she pushed down, tilting her hips so he was driving up against her spot. They found a rhythm, easily, as always. It was a well-worn dance between the pair of them after so many years together but a dance that Steve would never get tired of. Every single time it felt just as good as the last, and as Katie rolled her hips slightly, moving her forwards an inch Steve’s head fell back against the back cushions on the sofa, his hands cradling her close.

“Feel so fucking good,” he praised, his hips slamming upwards again, her moans of pleasure filling the room as she pushed downwards. He leaned forward, his mouth gently pressing kissing to her sternum and throat and she gave a shudder, rotating her hips urgently as Steve continued to push up and greet her movement for movement.

“Stevie…I’m…” she panted softly, her head falling forwards to catch his mouth and he felt her twitch around him, meaning she was close. His hands snaked into her hair, holding her face still as he kissed her hard, hips snapping forwards. With a soft cry, she stilled slightly, her moans flowing into Steve’s mouth as he felt her fluttering around him as she came and he wasn’t far behind. He pushed up, thrusting through her orgasm before he reached his own, with a groan that bubbled from his chest, his eyes closing in utter bliss as the feeling overwhelmed him. They both sat still for a moment, utterly spent, Steve’s hands skating up his wife’s back as she gave a soft hum of contentment, her head resting against his.

Steve gently pulled back, his hand tilting Katie’s chin up gently so he could kiss her again, soflty, and he smiled against her mouth, before Harry gave a shrill cry from the cradle in the corner of the room, reminding them of something that they had both forgotten during the last blissful fifteen minutes of pure lust and passion. They weren’t just Steve and Katie anymore, they were Momma and Daddy.

And Steve wouldn’t change ANYTHING about that for the world.

*****

'Cause I love her with all that I am And my voice shakes along with my hands 'Cause it’s frightening to be Swimming in this strange sea But I’d rather be here than on land

The next morning they altered their routine slightly. Jamie was dropped at school first and then Steve drove to Nursery to drop Rori off, complete with Harry so the staff could meet him for the first time. Steve kept a careful watch on his wife as she got out of the car, smoothing her hair back slightly as she helped Rori out, the pair of them making their way through the gates and into the building. Steve followed behind, the car seat containing Harry in his hand.

Once inside, Rori bounded off to see her friends and the nursery staff immediately crowded around Harry as Katie smiled and Steve gently placed the seat on the main desk. Katie lifted him out and handed him to Sally who beamed and gently took him in her arms.

“Oh, Mrs Rogers,” she looked at Katie then to Steve, “Sir, he’s beautiful,” she beamed, rocking him slightly as Harry’s hands gently fisted in the air, his eyes focussed on the older woman as she smiled at him.

“Just like his Momma.” Steve’s arm curled round Katie as he pressed a kiss to her head. She nudged him with her elbow as she flushed slightly.

Once the staff had all finished preening over Harry, Katie made sure he was secure in his seat again and they both made their way back outside. Steve clipped the seat back onto the base in the rear of the car and then stood up, glancing over the top of the door at Katie but she wasn’t looking at him. Instead, her eyes were watching something behind him and he turned to see two women as they walked down the sidewalk towards them, both of them leading a child each. Instantly he noticed his wife’s demeanour change as she tugged at the bottom of her top, pulling it away from her body and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who those women were.

Hell, no. Not on his watch.

Ignoring the surge of anger in his stomach he shut the door to the car gently and without a word grabbed his wife and pressed his lips to hers. It took her a moment to respond, he’d surprised her that much, but she smiled against his mouth as he kissed her deeply, his hands sliding down to give her ass a quick squeeze.

“What was that for?” She asked a little breathlessly as he pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Do I need a reason?” He smiled.

“No, suppose not.” She grinned, patting his chest. “Come on, we never had breakfast before and I’m starving.” She moved away from him and Steve opened the passenger door for her to climb in. Shutting it softly he turned and saw the two women looking at him. He raised an eyebrow challengingly, his hands dropping to his buckle.

“Morning.” His voice remained neutral but carried that undertone of a challenge, in the way he always managed when slipping back into Captain mode.

“Err, good morning, Captain…errr… Mr Rogers.” One of them spoke, smiling. “I’m not sure what you go by now.” “Neither am I.” He shrugged simply “Bur Mr Rogers is fine, thanks. Reminds me I’m married. And who doesn’t want to be reminded they’re married to the most beautiful gal on the planet huh?” He smiled broadly. “Even if some people think she looks a little different now from when we first met…”

The smile on both their faces slipped a little and Steve levelled them both with a look, leaving them in no uncertain terms as to what he was saying and had to fight the smirk that was threatening to spread on his face as he could tell instantly that he had embarrassed them, which had completely been his intent. Both women flushed a deep shade of red and they both hastily bid him good-day as they bustled up the path towards the main door.

Steve climbed into the car, and Katie turned to him.

“You’re such a bitch.” she smirked, and he looked at her, not even attempting to pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. He was busted, but he didn’t care.

“Well they shouldn’t be trash talking my wife.” He shrugged. Katie shook her head gently before she leaned over to give him a soft kiss.

“Still going all protective over me, huh Soldier?” “Always.” He nodded as she pressed her lips gently to his again. Smiling, she tucked her hair behind her ears before they both settled down and Steve snapped the car into drive, pulling off into the steady stream of morning traffic.

Yes she’s all that I see And she’s all that I need And I’m out of my league once again

 **original posting**

[atiny-ahgase]

Anemone

Author’s Note: Guess who couldn’t sleep because they had this idea stuck in their head but also couldn’t write because they wanted to sleep? If you guessed Me then you would be correct *Gold Star*.

Side Note: Currently I’m not sure if i’ll be able to continue writing because I recently hurt my wrist. I hope that its nothing serious and of course i’ll keep you  all posted if or when anything changes. I hope that its nothing serious and that the pain will go away but i’m really unsure right now so I thought that I should let you all know- Gabby.

Extra Info: This is for some context when references about the Anemone flower are made. This is also known as the ‘Wind flower’ because it blooms during Spring time when the winds are strong. The flower welcomes Spring by blooming but its petals are fragile and are often blown away by the same winds that they have opened up to welcome.- (aren’t I poetic lol).

Summary: Y/n is an introverted flower enthusiast, to say the least. Only knowledgeable in communicating through ‘flower language’ she rejects the idea of vocal communication with others. But what will she do when she finally meets someone that she wants to talk to? Will she be able to get her message across or will love be her Anemone flower; welcoming the same strong winds that ultimately threaten to destroy her.

Pairing: San x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Romance, School AU

Contains: Fluff, Angst, Female Reader, Flower Symbolism

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Working at your parents’ flower shop wasn’t just a job to you, it was the highlight of your day; you loved it there. You’d spend your entire summer break helping arrange flowers for anything from centerpieces to bouquets. You hated the time you spent away from the enchanting corner shop which you often referred to as your home. Walking through the emerald green doors only to be greeted by a plethora of flowers in an array of colours and species was one of the best parts of your day. This moment was second only to the feeling you got when you walked through your home garden and greenhouse. That was truly where all of the magic happened. It was the place that provided your family with the paint you needed to colour art pieces which spoke straight to the human soul, also known to others as ‘Flower Arrangements’. 

To say that you liked flowers would be an understatement, you couldn’t even say that you loved them because that word couldn’t even communicate the strong feeling you had towards those colourful sprouts of life. And that was the problem with words; they just weren’t strong enough. They could never express sincere emotions the same way that flowers did. It was this very notion that cultivated your current belief that flower language was the superior language in every state, shape and form; and anyone who couldn’t understand that wasn’t worth your time. 

This was the very reason that you spent the majority of your time outside of the flower shop alone. No one understood your deeply rooted love for flowers and you honestly couldn’t be bothered to explain it to them. That was until now. Why was it that after all of this time do you now feel the need to communicate with someone? And it wasn’t just the simple “Good mornings” and “How have you beens” that you’ve programmed yourself to say just so your parents could stop pestering you about your ‘antisocial tendencies’ or whatever they called it. You actually wanted to sit down and have a real conversation. You wanted to tell him that his smile brightens your day more than any Sunflower could and that the joy of his laugh reminded you of the Lilac flower which represented ‘The joy of Youth’.

You’ve never felt like this about another person before, everything about him was like a flower to you; an arrangement carefully created by the heavens. The rosy colour of his cheeks mimicked the hue of the Pink Carnations that framed the windowpane of your home, the golden glint in his eyes while he spoke about the things that he enjoyed was like that of the Freesia petals; bright and filled with innocence. You could write a book about every floral feature he had, honestly you could write a series about him; one book for every mesmerizing quality he possessed. The more you studied him the more his personality bloomed, opening up to reveal even more beauty like a flower opening up its petals to greet the light of a new day.

---------

You had met San one rainy evening while you were closing your parents’ shop. The store didn’t regularly close that early but sales were slow that day so your mother said that you should just close up and head home for the day. You turned the “Open” sign so it would display the words “Closed” to the outside then headed to the back room to grab your bag and turn off the lights. You reached for your backpack only to be startled by a thunderous roaring from the sky. It was as though the heavens had opened up, striking the world below with bolts of furry and piercing bullets in the form of rainfall. The weatherman did say that there was going to be a storm but you had never imagined that it would have been of that magnitude.

Searching for your phone you dug into your back pocket. You texted your parents to let them know that you were basically stranded until the rain lightens up; not wanting to drive in torrential showers. You then headed back to the front of the store to wait out the weather. Sitting behind the counter you couldn’t help but see the outline of a figure attempting to take shelter outside of the shop. The strong winds were making this action incredibly difficult as they crashed into the front door and windows. If he wasn’t already soaked, he would be soon.

You released a loud sigh before walking to the door and allowing the stranger to enter the shop. Even though you weren’t incredibly fond of conversations you couldn’t just sit back and leave someone to endure that type of weather. He quickly ran into the store, clutching his sides to retain some level of heat in his body. Now that he was in front of you you could clearly see his features. His raven black hair was soaked to the touch, wet and wavy the gentle curls framed his face like the petals of a Carnation. He had a slit on his eyebrow right above his dark brown eyes. For some reason the more you looked that them the more they reminded you of the brown centre of the Anemone flower, beautiful yet fragile.

“I’m not gonna lie y/n; I didn’t expect you to open the door”, he spoke before chuckling to himself.

The look of confusion was eminent on your face which only made him laugh even more. He clutched his stomach as he toppled over laughing; water droplets from his hair dripping unto the white tile floor beneath him. “Great, I just let a lunatic into the store,” you thought.

“Sorry about that,” he said while whipping the tears which built up in his eyes “,it’s just that we’ve been in the same class since we were eight and you still don’t even know my name.”

You tilted your head to the side studying the person in question. You were positive that you’d never seen that man in your life.

“I’m Choi San” he stated with a smile “, we’re the same age, I sit behind you in Biology class and my locker is LITERALLY right next to yours”.

“Hi,” you simply state before walking past him to once again sit behind the counter. “Wow, I guess the rummers were true, you really are just as coldhearted as they claim you to be,” he says, his eyes never once leaving yours. “Like the Hydrangea flower right?” he directs the question to you, his head tilted to the left. He had caught you off guard, you’ve never expected him to even know what a Hydrangea was, much less what it symbolized.

Reaching down you grabbed a towel from beneath the counter before tossing it in his direction. “Although there are a lot of negative connotations connected to the Hydrangea such as Coldheartedness; it also symbolizes gratitude and thanksgiving,” you scuff before returning your attention to your phone.

“You really know your stuff huh?” you hear from across the counter. “So what does this flower mean?” he asks while pointing at a vase of tulips sitting on the counter. “Its a declaration of love,” you simply state. “And what about this one,” he asks while studying a painting of Orange “Lilies on the wall. “I hate you,” you replied. “What did I do?” he exclaims; eyes looking both confused and hurt.

You couldn’t control the burst of laughter that exploded from your body, you placed your hands on the counter in a futile attempt to balance yourself. “I didn’t mean I hate you, dummy. That’s what Orange Lilies mean,” you explained, amusement prevalent in your eyes. You hear him softly chuckle before he returns to interrogating you on some of the remaining flowers in the store. To your surprise, you actually didn’t mind the company, apart from your parents you’ve never really gotten the chance to talk to anyone else about flowers. You didn’t know that it would be as fun as it was, but at that moment you didn’t mind getting close to someone if it was San.

----------------

Walking into your morning Biology class you’re greeted by the most unexpected sight; on top of your desk was a bouquet of light blue hydrangeas. Surely they couldn’t be for you unless they were some sort of sick joke from your classmates; ‘let’s get the coldhearted girl Hydrangeas cause they both represent the same thing’. You scuffed at the thought before sitting at your desk and inspecting the flowers. Tied to the stem was a small note which read: “The Hydrangea is one of the most misunderstood flowers of the world not unlike you. Thank you for helping me out- Sanflower’. You didn’t know whether you should smile at the fact that he actually remembered or laugh at the comparison he made between him and a Sunflower. If anything he was more like a buttercup; bright, childish and joyous.

You carefully plucked off a single bud of the Hydrangea before gently placing it on the table behind you remembering that he said he often sat there. “You’re welcome,” you hear him whisper behind you, you could practically hear the grin on his face. 

That was the moment that you realized that you’d give anything to spend even one second more with him. Just talking; it didn’t even have to be about flowers. He was the first person whose life you actually cared to know about. Did he have any siblings, what was his favourite food, did he have any pets? All of those questions swarmed around in your head all day.

You could go up and talk to him if you actually knew how to have a conversation but you were completely hopeless. San was the first person outside of your family that you actually conversed with for more than 5 minutes. The fact that you were completely aware of your lack of communication skills only fueled your overgrowing anxiety.

After multiple failed attempts at socializing with him; apart from the basic “Hi” when you see each other; you decided that maybe it was better to just not even try talking to him. Quit while you’re ahead right? So could someone please explain why you were standing in front of San’s locker at the early hours of the morning with a small bunch of Pear Blossoms in your hand. Well, according to the girls you found gossiping in the bathroom, San had a Taekwondo tournament and Pear Blossoms meant ‘good luck’ so it just made sense to give them to him. Placing the flowers on his locker you hastily left, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment. You could have just handed him the flowers dummy... 

This action continued for months, you’d leave flowers all around him at least twice a week. You knew that it was weird but what else could you do? Just the thought of confessing to him filled your body with so much anxiety that you couldn’t breathe. You were cursed to only be able to express yourself through flowers so you did just that. You left White Camellias (Symbolizes Lovable/Adorable) on his desk, Yellow Tulips (Symbolizes Happiness of Love) on his locker, even Red Chrysanthemums (Symbolizes Love) near his gym clothes. 

With every flower, that you placed you hoped that their message would reach him. “I like you”, “You’re Cute”, “Please think of me”, “I love you”. You felt as though your words where being screamed into deaf ears but you couldn’t give up. You couldn’t give him up. You never understood how focusing only on the colours of flowers had made you blind to the colours of the world. He painted your world in the brightest colours that you’ve thought only existed in flower petals. How could one person be so beautiful inside and out? The most stunning flower in the garden.

As the school term was coming to a close you began seeing less and less of San plus you started taking more hours at the flower shop; as if that was even possible, you already basically live there. You sat behind the counter remembering how your life was before you had ever met San; things were less…..confusing. He filled your head with thoughts that you’ve never considered before and even though you hated the bubbly feeling in your stomach you couldn’t deny the love he made you feel. You cherished every emotion he had given you, from the butterflies in your stomach to the hurricane in your heart, they were all precious to you; he was precious to you.

The chiming of the bell at the front door knocks you out of your thoughts, the sight that comes into view knocks the air out of your lungs. San had entered, he stood beside an older man. The similarities in their facial structure had caused you to deduce that it was his father. They slowly walked through the store examining the flowers with a commendable amount of detail. You take a deep breath before speaking.

“Looking for anything in particular sir?” you ask from across the counter. The elder man smiles widely at you before walking to greet you at the counter. “I’m looking for a gift for my wife. She recently got promoted to be the supervisor of a company in Seoul,” he explained. You couldn’t hold back the sinking feeling in your heart. Seoul? That’s really far away. Will they all move there? Will San move there? All those thoughts just kept on swimming through your head, spiraling like a tornado; demolishing your hopes.

“People usually give roses don’t they?” San’s voice being the only thing that could pull you out of your thoughts. “Red roses are perfect for a loved one,” you state “, I can prepare a bouquet now if you’d like.” The man thanked you before taking a seat on one of the benches inside the store. The bouquet was simple enough so you didn’t take too long. Before you walked out you picked up a single Myosotis flower; holding it behind your back. You had just finished receiving your payment when you hear San call out to you. “Hey Y/n, Sunflowers are a symbol of loyalty right?”

You laughed to yourself, he sounded so proud of himself, it was cute. “Yeah they are,” you reply “, but what about this flower?” you say while revealing the flower from behind your back, head tilted to the side. San walked up to you, taking the flower from your hand to inspect it. You took a deep breath, it was now or never. “I’m not too sure about it. Can I ask an expert opinion?” he asks while looking at you, eyebrow cocked and a lopsided grin on his face. “They’re called ‘The Myosotis Flower’ but they’re better known as ‘Forget me not’. Can you guess what they mean now?” you responded.

The longer he took to respond the hotter your face got, you felt as though all of your emotions were boiling up inside you ready to erupt at any moment. “How could I forget you Y/n?” he asks, his eyes looking deep into your soul. “Don’t forget me when you go to live in Seoul with your Mom,” you whispered looking down at the floor. The more you looked at him the more your heartache. He whispered something to the elderly man before you heard the store door open and close. Shuffling was heard the store; too afraid to look up at San you instead kept your head down, finding a new interest in the tiles on the counter top.

A soft banging sound on the counter forces you to jump up. “Can I have these please?” he asks gesturing to a vase of Red Tulips. You blinked a few times to ensure that you were seeing correctly. Was he really not gonna acknowledge anything that you said? “Pink Tulips represent care wouldn’t you rather-”. “Id like these please,” he interrupted you. Red Tulips really weren’t appropriate to give to a relative but if that’s what he wants.. “I’ll go wrap them up then,” you reply unable to keep the exhaustion from dripping off your lips. Love was exhausting but San somehow managed to make all the pain worth it. “You don’t need to do that, they’re staying right here,” he says. 

“What are you talking-”. “They’re for you,” he interrupted you again. “Do you even know what Red Tulips mean?” you questioned rather harshly. He’s moving to Seoul and now this? You’re not sure how much more pain you can take. “They mean ‘Believe me when I say that I love you’,” he shouts the golden spark in his eyes were replaced with a look of determination. “I love you Y/n. I have since the first time we met so many years ago. Do you know how many times I’ve looked at you and prayed that you’d look at me with the same care that you look at these flowers? I came to class early every day so that I can sit behind you, I traded lockers with one of the guys on the Football team just so I could see you between classes. Heck, I take the long way home from practice just so I could pass by this shop every evening so please don’t pull that ‘Don’t forget me’ line when you’re the one who couldn’t remember me.” He stood there, panting. You’ve never realized how exhausted he looked, was all of that because of you?

How did he do that? Depict the meaning of Red Tulips better than Red Tulips themselves. You felt a tightness in your chest. What were you supposed to do when the one thing you’ve wished for for so many months finally comes through? How were you supposed to react when the guy you’ve been in love with for months says that he’s loved you for years? What were you supposed to say to the only person that actually saw you? But you were too distracted to notice them. Your thoughts went a mile a minute; you raked your brain to think of what to say. What flower was there to show him how much you really did care for him. To tell him that you felt the same love that he’s had for so many years in the mere months of him entering the shop. To tell him that you don’t want him to go.

There wasn’t one. You couldn’t express those feelings with flowers but you also couldn’t express them with words, only with actions. Extending your hands you pull him into a hug; the counter still separating you but that didn’t seem to bother San as he cradled your head in his hands. “I’m so sorry San,” you whisper; your voice breaking in the process. “I love you too. So much,” you continued, gripping him in your arms even tighter. “It’s okay Princess. Your the strong winds to my Anemone flower; I know that I can’t withstand you but I welcome you anyway,” he responds before kissing your cheek. You could hold unto each other forever but the chiming of the front doorbell forces you two apart. 

“Sorry to interrupt Sannie but we need to get going,” states the man who had previously entered with San. You could see the faint blush on San’s cheeks as he looked at the man. “Sorry for the wait uncle I’ll be right there,” replied San before he glances at you with a smug smirk on this face. It only took you a moment to connect the dots. If that man was his uncle then that meant that his Aunt was moving. You released a loud groan before resting your head on the counter. This is so embarrassing. You feel gentle fingers begin the glide across the skin of your arm before a chaste kiss was left on your head. You raise your head upon hearing footsteps beginning to fade.

“Orange Lilies (I hate you),” you jokingly yell at San while pouting, arms crossed over your chest. “Red Roses (I love you),” he smiles back at you trying his best to hold back his laughter before departing. You looked at the Red Tulips that he had left for you on the counter, his words replaying in your head, “Please believe me when I say that I love you”.

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Hope you all liked it. I really like flowers so I had a lot of fun writing it. 

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Forever: Out Of My League

Intro: Steve can tell Katie’s feeling a little bit down. But in true Cap style, he’s not gonna give up until he figures out why and a way to make it better….

Warnings: Bad language. NSFW (SMUT!) No under 18s.

Pairing:Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N:  Someone once commented on a chapter of Stark Spangled Banner that they felt like Katie loved Steve more than he loved her, and that got me seriously doubting the way I had written Steve as that is most certainly not the case. The pair of them are ridiculously in love but Steve is utterly besotted with his girl, and let’s not forget spent 15 years alone in the past to ensure he could come back to her and live the rest of his days out with the love of his life. Also worth remembering he came back looking like Ari Levinson (it was the 70s) and he kept the beard simply because she liked it…what better declaration of love?!

With this in mind, I asked a few people what they thought and @icanfeelastormbrewing​ came back with a perfect song which she said she feels enCAPsulates (pun intended) Steve’s feelings towards Katie. So I’ve taken a different format to usual and pulled together a Song Based Fic based on a little request from @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ for some soft Steve.

Written with Steve’s POV in mind.

The song is Stephen Speaks- Out Of My League. Take a listen, because it’s phenomenally beautiful.

SSF Masterlist  // Main Masterlist 

September 2027

It's her hair and her eyes today That just simply take me away And the feeling that I'm falling further in love Makes me shiver but in a good way

“Hey Pal…” Steve said softly, picking his baby son up out of the basinet. Instantly Harry’s soft whimpers died down as he pressed his face into his dad’s shoulder, his soft head nuzzling into the crook of Steve’s neck.

“You hungry?” he asked gently, carrying the 6 week old baby into the kitchen to grab him a bottle out of the fridge. Once he’d warmed it, checked it, he returned to the sitting room and began to feed him, his little cheeks working eagerly as he took his milk. Steve watched as Harry turned his bright blue eyes onto his and he smiled down at his son, gently adjusting his arms to make sure he was settled comfortably before he glanced up at the clock. Katie should be back soon from dropping Jamie at School and Rori at nursery. He was hoping that Rori had decided to get out of the damned car without a full on fight this morning, like the one he’d had with her the previous morning. His little Star Spangled Diva really wasn’t happy about the fact she had to go to Nursery when Harry could stay home all day. And she didn’t care when they’d explained to her that Harry was a baby and therefore was too little to go to nursery. She’d screamed and screamed and yelled about the fact that it wasn’t fair but her tantrum had simply made Steve even more determined get her out of the car and through the fucking door. In the end he had carried her in and explained to the familiar members of staff from Jamie’s time there, what was going on. They’d simply smiled at him, told him they’d dealt with worse (he didn’t voice the fact that he seriously doubted that) and he'd set her down on the floor, crouched in front of her and told her to be a good girl and he’d be back in a few hours, leaving her screaming behind him as he walked off. It had almost killed him but he was thankful it was him doing it and not Katie as she constantly doubted her decisions at a mother as it was and he knew that, despite all the teasing Katie did about Rori being Steve’s little Princess, she would be the one that caved and brought her home as she couldn’t bear to leave her behind, screaming.

Both of them loved Rori with everything they had, just the same as all their kids, but Jesus Christ she was the hardest one to deal with out of the lot of them, especially when she didn’t get her own way. Just like her mother, Steve often teased Katie, although he knew that deep down that was a slightly un-fair comparison. Whilst Katie was certainly prone to her little brat moments, she was utterly selfless when it came to the kids and her family and friends, one of the many things he adored about her.

Lucky’s head pricked up, and his tail started to thump against the rug and moments later Steve heard the door open and shut. She walked into the living room and he instantly frowned at her face, he could see she’d been crying.

“Honey?” he asked, looking at her as she walked towards him, running her finger softly over Harry’s cheek.

“I literally fed him about an hour before I left” she chuckled, avoiding Steve’s questioning eyes “You and your damned serum.” Steve watched her as she sat down next to him, tucking her legs under her on the chair, her long hair falling over her face slightly.

“Katie…” he said a little more sternly and he saw her take a deep breath and turn her face to him “What’s wrong? Was she a pain in the ass again?” “No, actually, she was perfect.” Katie smiled. “Got out of the car, walked in, smiled at everyone and headed off to play. I nearly fainted in surprise.” “So why have you been crying?” “Hormones.” she said, smiling at him “Honestly, I’m fine.” He could tell she was lying, he always could. Her eyes avoided his as she couldn’t ever lie to his face. But whatever it was she didn’t want to tell him so he let it slide.

For now.

“Ok…” he said, looking at her “Anyway, I’ve been thinking, why don’t we head out for the afternoon?”

“Shouldn’t you be prepping ready for going back for your pre-term meetings next week?” she looked at him and he shrugged.

“I’ll catch up.” he said with a smile. “Spending time with you is more important.”

Katie smiled and peered over at Harry who had stopped drinking. Steve gently placed the bottle onto the coffee table and moved Harry so he was over his shoulder, rubbing at his back.

“Anywhere in mind?”

“Well…” Steve looked at her. “We really should get you a new car.”

“Steve…I’m not…” “Just, hear me out…” he said, silencing her. “I’m not asking you to get rid of the Camero, I know how much that car means to you.”

She looked down and took a deep breath, “I know it’s stupid, it’s a lump of metal but…” “Tony got it you, I know honey.” Steve said softly “But I’m driving it now all the time because you need the Audi for the kids so….I thought maybe we should get another one. The Camero can be your little, I dunno, fun car.” “Fun car?” she looked at him, smiling as he shrugged.

“Yeah…one that we can snatch a drive in every once in a while when we’re alone…although fuck knows that hardly happens now.” Katie gave a chuckle, before she shrugged “Ok, we could go car hunting I suppose.” “And grab lunch?” Steve looked at her.

“Sure.” she nodded before she smiled a little.

“What you thinking?” Steve asked. “How much I loved my range rover that I got for my 21st “ She said, a fond look on her face. Steve smiled, that had been the car she’d had when he’d first met her, and it had been flatted under the triskelion.

“Yeah, that was a nice car.” he nodded “We can go and see about getting you one of those if you like?”

“Yeah, maybe…” At that point Harry let out a burp and both parents looked at him, Steve giving his head a kiss.

“Here, I’ll take him. You go get showered and then we can head out.” Katie said, gesturing with her arms. Steve gently passed him over and she held him close, his head resting on her chest, his little legs supported by her arms. Steve stood up, dropped a soft kiss to his wife’s lips and then headed up the stairs to get changed.

***** All the times I have sat and stared As she thoughtfully thumbs through her hair And she purses her lips, bats her eyes and she plays with me Sitting there slack-jawed and nothing to say

The car shopping went better than Steve had anticipated. The minute Katie had sat in one of the vehicles in the showroom he’d seen her face light up, as she checked all the buttons and the various gadgets the car had, asking the sales man various questions. 40 minutes or so later they left, Katie having ordered a firenze red (Katie had smiled at the colour, saying it reminded her of Tony’s Iron Man suit) Range Rover Velar and then his wife had piped up that they should look for a newer car for Steve too. He’d protested at first, as he didn’t’ think he needed one but she’d shrugged and simply replied “when is anything we buy ever really about what we need?”

As a result they’d swung into the Porsche showroom on their way back in, and an hour later Steve was the owner of a sleek silver Cayenne in a grey-blue colour, with tan leather interior which would be delivered in about 10 weeks, not long before Katie’s was due. He’d fallen in love with the model the moment he had sat inside it. It was fancy, well finished, and felt beyond luxurious. And on the test drive he’d taken whilst Katie fed Harry again, it was fucking fast too, which easily satisfied his inner speed-demon.

“Well that was an expensive morning.” he grinned as they sat in the small bistro not far from Jamie’s school, Harry once more asleep in his pram as they both studied the menu.

“I’ve had worse…” Katie grinned. Steve snorted, and took a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, ok the house…I’ll give you that.” She smiled and Steve watched her glance through the menu, her hand brushing her hair back behind her ears as she bit her lip and studied the options for lunch. And there it was again, that look on her face, the one he knew meant something was bothering her. Before he had chance to push her further on it the waiter appeared and they placed their order. Steve opting for a pizza, because well he’d eat that stuff every meal of the day if he could, and Katie went for a chicken Caesar salad stating she fancied a changed from her usual choice here of Carbonara. Steve waited until the man had bustled off before he reached over the table and gently took Katie’s hand.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, honestly.” she looked at him, and he sighed, shaking his head.

“You know I can tell when you’re holding back on me,” he looked at her “I’ve known you for too long now sweetheart.” She looked down at the table and took a breath, “Steve, I don’t wanna talk about it, not here, not now…

“Katie…” “Please.” she looked at him, her eyes wide as she shook her head “Don’t…” Steve took a deep breath and sat back, holding his hands up in surrender “Ok, but this is not the end of this conversation.” “Don’t I know it.” she grumbled, giving him a look “You’re like a dog with a bone when you get going.” “I’ll give you a bone if you want…” he quipped, dropping his voice and leaning over the table. It wasn’t often he made a dirty joke like that in public, but it had the desired effect. Her cheeks flushed and she raised an eyebrow at him, a cheeky grin flitting across her face, whatever worry it was she had forgotten for the moment.

“Steven Grant Rogers…” she said, shaking her head and he shrugged, leaning back in his chair, eyeing her over his beer as he took a sip.

“You don’t want?” he titled his head to the side. “I didn’t say that.” “So you do…”

“Piss off Steve.” she laughed, making him grin again.

**** 'Cause I love her with all that I am And my voice shakes along with my hands 'Cause she's all that I see And she's all that I need And I'm out of my league once again

“Daddy!” Rori shrieked as Steve walked into the nursery. He smiled as she barrelled towards him and he scooped her up, placing a kiss to her cheek.

“Hey princess!” he smiled, “You had a good day?” “Yeah we did erm painting and some games and I fallded over but I’m ok…” “She took a tumble when they were outside on the playground.” Sally, one of the nursery assistants advised Steve, passing him an envelope. “It wasn’t anything major, she bumped her knee. She didn’t seem to even notice, or care, but we’re obliged to write it up.” “Thanks.” Steve smiled, taking the report from her and tucking it into his pocket. He wasn’t worried, she was like her brother in that respect. The half of her that was him was her robustness to general knocks and tumbles and germs, thanks to the serum. He placed her down on the floor and told her to collect her things, watching as she headed over to the little peg that contained her small pink backpack and her jacket.

“How’s the little one?” Sally asked and Steve turned to her, smiling.

“He’s great.” Steve beamed “Such a placid baby, in comparison to the other 2 anyway, certainly her.” he added with a nod towards Rori. She chuckled “Yeah, a lot of parents say that the youngest ones are often the easiest. I think it’s because as Parents you relax a little more and they feel it. You should tell Mrs Rogers to bring him in one morning, we’ve not met him yet.” “I will.” Steve smiled, nodding as Rori came back. He gently helped her put her jacket on before he stood up, thanked the staff again and led her outside to the car.

“Where’s momma?” Rori asked.

“She’s at home with Harry.” Steve said. “We just gotta go pick Jamie up and then we can go home.” “Ok.” she said. She fell silent for a moment before she suddenly piped up again “Daddy my knee hurts.”

Steve glanced down at her sceptically as he opened the car door “Does it? Or are you just angling for sympathy?” Rori pondered for a moment before she grinned “Sympathy.”

Steve snorted, she was honest at least.

“Ok…” he sat her in her car seat in the back of the car, buckling her in before he pressed a kiss to the knee she was pointing at “Better?” “Yes, fankoo.” “You’re welcome.” he said, shutting the door and heading to the driver’s side to climb in. He drove the few blocks to Jamie’s school, pulling into the pick-up area and nodded to the staff member who was on duty. Jamie waved and Steve had to snort at the state of him. His tie was completely wonky, his jacket was open, shirt untucked… typical 7 year old boy. He shot over to the car as Steve climbed out, opening the trunk so he could stick his rucksack in the back.

“Good day son?”

Jamie nodded and climbed into the car, sitting on the booster in the front. Steve clipped him in and then made to head home.

“Guess what me and Momma did today” Steve looked at him as he pulled out of the school grounds and onto the road.

“What?” “Bought 2 new cars.” “What did you get?” Jamie grinned

“Well, Momma got a range rover, a red one. And I got a Porsche.” “Cool.” Jamie said, nodding his approval “Is momma happier now?”

Steve frowned, “Happier, what makes you say that?” “When we dropped Rori off before she got upset.”

“Did she say why?” “She told me when we walked back to the car that it was just her feelings from having Harry” Jamie shrugged.

“Did she speak to anyone when you dropped Rori off?” “Just Sally.” he shrugged “There were some other ladies there but Momma didn’t speak to them.”

“Ok, don’t worry about it son.” Steve said, nodding to assure him. He knew Jamie hated seeing his mother upset. “She’s fine, like she said, just her feelings from Harry.” They drove home, Steve chatting to Jamie and Rori as they went but his mind was still on his wife. He knew now that whatever was bothering her had to be something to do with Rori’s nursery, or something that had happened when she had dropped her off.

And it gave him an angle to approach her with.

In typical fashion the Kids shot into the kitchen and Katie greeted them both with a smile from where she had been stood preparing their dinner. The kids began instantly gabbling away, both filling her in about their day and Steve leaned on the doorway, watching as his wife talked to both of them, crouching down to look them both in the eyes as they thrust various pieces of paper at her. He loved watching her interact with them, it was simply something he found astonishing how easy it came to her, being a mother had highlighted ever single trait he found so damned attractive about her even more and it lit a fire in his belly every single time he saw it.  She glanced up at him and he gave her a smile, pushing off the door frame and walking into the room, passing Harry who was still asleep in the basinet in the corner of the room.

“He not woke up?” Steve asked and Katie shook her head.

“We’re gonna suffer for that tonight.” she sighed and Steve chuckled, dropping a kiss to her cheek.

“Jamie…” he turned to his son who’s hand was sneaking up onto the counter next to Katie to grab a piece of cheese she had been grating. He grinned at his dad as he popped into his mouth with a shrug. Steve rolled his eyes, smiling “Go change pal, get out of your uniform.”

“Ok.” he agreed, heading out of the kitchen.

“I change too daddy?” Rori looked at him.

“You don’t need to.”

“But I want to.” she said, folding her arms. He looked at Katie who gave a snort as they both observed their little Diva.

“Ok, what do you want to change into?” Steve asked, picking her up.

“Bumble bear.” “You wanna wear your bear onesie?”

She nodded.

“OK…” he smiled, “Come on.” 15 minutes later, both kids were settled in the den, the pair of them looking at a jigsaw puzzle. Telling Jamie that he was on ‘big brother’ duties, basically an instruction to be careful and keep Rori out of mischief as much as he could, he headed into the kitchen to find Katie now wiping down the counters, the pasta bake in the oven.

“Jamie said you were upset this morning after you left the nursery.” Steve’s arms wrapped around his wife from behind and he felt her still slightly “Come on kitten, what’s been eating you all day?”

“Nothing, I’m just being stupid…” she said, turning in his arms to look at him.

“Doll…” his voice was stern and he lowered his head slightly, his eyebrows raising as he gave her a look that instructed her to tell the truth.

With a sigh she lowered her head and pinched the bridge of her nose “ I just overheard a few of the moms talking that’s all, I don’t think they realised I was behind them…” “Ok, well what were they saying?” “They just…” Katie took a deep breath, “They made a comment about Rori and how like me she looked, and then one of them said or at least how I used to look…”

Steve frowned, staying silent and waiting for her to finish.

“Then they kinda laughed and said that I’d certainly ‘let myself go’ a little after the latest one…” she raised her hands and framed the offending three words with phrase marks by bending the index and middle fingers on each hand forward twice in symmetry.

Steve fought hard to keep his face straight and not display they anger he was feeling inside. Fuck, he loved this woman, and the thought of anyone saying something so damned cruel it would upset her made him furious.

“They manage to look all neat and tidy for the school run and I…” Katie shook her head “It’s all I can do to make sure my top is on the right way round…fuck, I can’t even remember what I was wearing…” Steve shook his head, “I can tell you exactly what you had on. A pair of jeans, ankle boots, that gorgeous pink sweater…” “Steve…” “Honey…” he shook his head, “We have 3 kids, all who need breakfast and dressing in the morning, and one of whom is barely 6 weeks old…” “Yeah I know, and I know I need to give myself time but…” she shrugged, “You know that each time I’ve been pregnant I’ve kept some weight somewhere…” “So?” Steve frowned

“I don’t know, I guess I just miss being the size I was. It doesn’t matter, I told you, I was being stupid.” she said, shaking her head.

Steve looked at her for a second, his head cocked to one side. Whilst it was true that post Jamie her hips had remained slightly larger as had her chest. And the added curve to her ass hadn’t completely been there before she’d had Rori… but her stomach had returned to being fairly flat post both of their previous kids, even if it wasn’t a washboard of muscle like it had when she was at the peak of her SHIELD or Avenging days. Her waist had remained fairly small and all of this simply gave her a killer hourglass figure he fucking loved, and one that he’d noticed various other men casting approving glances over on more than one occasion.

And yes, now 6 weeks after giving birth she was still carrying extra baby weight over and above all that but Steve frankly didn’t’ give a shit. She was gorgeous to him, and always would be.

“Well I don’t miss it.” Steve looked at her, his hands falling to her hips as he pulled her closer “Sweetheart, before Jamie you were tiny! It’s skewing your perception, I could practically connect my hands around your waist.” She looked at him as he continued, to speak, shaking his head “We’ve both changed. We’re older, even I’m noticing it now…” he gestured to his beard and his hair which were both now sporting a fair smattering of grey.

Katie smiled “Looks good on you.”

“Yeah, and having our babies looks good on you” he pressed and she gave a soft smile, looking at him. “Just don’t think on it please, I love you. I always will. You know this.” “I know, sorry, like I said, I was just having an off day and…” she nuzzled into his chest as his strong arms wrapped around her back. “I guess the hormones kinda made it worse.”

“Well I’ll make it better later.” he grinned, leaning down to kiss her.

“Yeah, you finally gonna give me that bone?” she snorted and he laughed.

“Damned right…” he muttered, his lips brushing hers lightly “My baby momma…” ******

It's a masterful melody When she calls out my name to me As the world spins around her she laughs, rolls her eyes And I feel like I'm falling but it's no surprise

Steve’s hands were all over his wife as she sat, straddled over his lap on the sofa. After putting the kids to bed they’d been cuddled up watching a film, and he’d simply been watching her sat there, playing with her hair, biting her thumb, and then his self-control had finally snapped and he had pulled her onto his lap with one aim only. His mouth gently trailed soft kisses up her neck to that spot behind her ear as his fingers began gently undoing the buttons on the front of the plaid shirt she was wearing, the shirt that as ever belonged to him. He opened them slowly one by one and Katie moved her head to catch his mouth with hers, her tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. He obliged, opening his mouth, his own tongue dipping into hers with smooth strokes as he gently reached the last button of the shirt and pushed it down over her shoulders, where it dropped to the floor.

His forehead pressed to hers and he looked down at her, giving a soft groan as his hands gripped her hips pulling her down further onto his lap, grinding up against her through his sweats. He was rock hard already, the sight of her sat on front of him was enough to make him lose his mind completely.

“You’re beautiful.” he mumbled, his lips grazing over her collar bone as one of his hands slid up her body, where it gently began to knead at her bra clad breast, softly teasing her nipple beneath the lace. He knew she was tender there, and he couldn’t go to town on them as much as he would like to but that was another thing that fucking turned him on so much. The fact that she was nursing his baby son, knowing that her body was nurturing him was so goddamned fucking amazing it had him low key horny all the time.

“Off…” She mumbled against his lips, hands grabbing at the bottom of his T’shirt and Steve sat forward slightly to allow her to pull it over his head and her hands ran through his hair, down his now bare back and up again, before she gently cupped her face with her hands, the pads of her fingers gently pressing into the whiskers of his beard as she leaned down for another kiss. Steve’s large hands flattened on her back, pulling her closer to him, their chests pressed together, lips locked deeply. Once more Steve titled his hips, causing Katie’s breath to catch in her throat and she pulled away slightly to look at him, Steve’s own breathing hitching slightly at the look of love and adoration his wife had on her face. One he knew he was mirroring completely.

Tilting his hips slightly, he raised them both easily off the sofa, and Katie instantly worked his sweats and boxers down over his slim waist. Without another second of hesitation he moved her panties to one side with one hand as he grasped his achingly hard cock in the other as Katie gently positioned herself before she sank down slowly onto him giving a soft mewl as he filled her, his hands returning to her waist once she had taken him in completely. With a grunt of his own, he held her still for a moment, before he bucked his hips upwards, Katie meeting him as she pushed down, tilting her hips so he was driving up against her spot. They found a rhythm, easily, as always. It was a well-worn dance between the pair of them after so many years together but a dance that Steve would never get tired of. Every single time it felt just as good as the last, and as Katie rolled her hips slightly, moving her forwards an inch Steve’s head fell back against the back cushions on the sofa, his hands cradling her close.

“Feel so fucking good…” he praised, his hips slamming upwards again, her moans of pleasure filling the room as she pushed downwards. He leaned forward, his mouth gently pressing kissing to her sternum and throat and she gave a shudder, rotating her hips urgently as Steve continued to push up and greet her movement for movement.

“Stevie…I’m…” she panted softly, her head falling forwards to catch his mouth and he felt her twitch around him, meaning she was close. His hands snaked into her hair, holding her face still as he kissed her hard, hips snapping forwards. With a soft cry, she stilled slightly, her moans flowing into Steve’s mouth as he felt her fluttering around him as she came and he wasn’t far behind. He pushed up, thrusting through her orgasm before he reached his own, with a groan that bubbled from his chest, his eyes closing in utter bliss as the feeling overwhelmed him. They both sat still for a moment, utterly spent, Steve’s hands skating up his wife’s back as she gave a soft hum of contentment, her head resting against his.

Steve gently pulled back, his hand tilting Katie’s chin up gently so he could kiss her again, soflty, and he smiled against her mouth, before Harry gave a shrill cry from the cradle in the corner of the room, reminding them of something that they had both forgotten during the last blissful 15 minutes of pure lust and passion. They weren’t just Steve and Katie anymore, they were Momma and Daddy.

And Steve wouldn’t change ANYTHING about that for the world.

*****

'Cause I love her with all that I am And my voice shakes along with my hands 'Cause it's frightening to be Swimming in this strange sea But I'd rather be here than on land

The next morning they altered their routine slightly. Jamie was dropped at school first and then Steve drove to Nursery to drop Rori off, complete with Harry so the staff could meet him for the first time. Steve kept a careful watch on his wife as she got out of the car, smoothing her hair back slightly as she helped Rori out, the pair of them making their way through the gates and into the building. Steve followed behind, the car seat containing Harry in his hand.

Once inside, Rori bounded off to see her friends and the nursery staff immediately crowded around Harry as Katie smiled and Steve gently placed the seat on the main desk. Katie lifted him out and handed him to Sally who beamed and gently took him in her arms.

“Oh, Mrs Rogers…” she looked at Katie then to Steve, “Sir…he’s beautiful…” she said, rocking him slightly as Harry’s hands gently fisted in the air, his eyes focussed on the older woman as she smiled at him.

“Just like his Momma…” Steve said, his arm curling round Katie as he pressed a kiss to her head. She nudged him with her elbow as she flushed slightly.

Once the staff had all finished preening over Harry, Katie made sure he was secure in his seat again, and after assuring the staff they would be seeing more of him in the future, they both made their way back outside. Steve clipped the seat back onto the base in the rear of the car and then stood up, glancing over the top of the door at Katie but she wasn’t looking at him. Instead, her eyes were watching something behind him and he turned to see two women as they walked down the sidewalk towards them, both of them leading a child each. Instantly he noticed his wife’s demeanour change as she tugged at the bottom of her top, pulling it away from her body and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who those women were.

Hell, no. Not on his watch.

Ignoring the surge of anger in his stomach he shut the door to the car gently and without a word grabbed his wife and pressed his lips to hers. It took her a moment to respond, he’d surprised her that much, but she smiled against his mouth as he kissed her deeply, his hands sliding down to give her ass a quick squeeze.

“What was that for?” she asked a little breathlessly as he pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Do I need a reason?” he smiled.

“No, suppose not.” she grinned, patting his chest “Come on, we never had breakfast before and I’m starving.” She moved away from him and Steve opened the passenger door for her to climb in. Shutting it softly he turned and saw the two women looking at him. He raised an eyebrow challengingly, his hands dropping to his buckle.

“Morning.” he said, his voice neutral but carrying that undertone of a challenge, in the way he always managed when slipping back into Captain mode.

“Err, good morning, Captain…errr… Mr Rogers…” one of them spoke, smiling “I’m not sure what you go by now.” “Neither am I.” he said simply “Bur Mr Rogers is fine, thanks. Reminds me I’m married. And who doesn’t want to be reminded they’re married to the most beautiful gal on the planet huh?” he said, smiling broadly “Even if some people think she looks a little different now from when we first met…”

The smile slipped and he levelled them both with a look, leaving them in no uncertain terms as to what he was saying and had to fight the smirk that was threatening to spread on his face as he could tell instantly that he had embarrassed them, which had completely been his intent. Both women flushed a deep shade of red and they both hastily bid him good-day as they bustled up the path towards the main door.

Steve climbed into the car, and Katie turned to him.

“You’re such a bitch.” she smirked, and he looked at her, not even attempting to pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. He was busted, but he didn’t care.

“Well they shouldn’t be trash talking my wife.” he said shrugging. She shook her head gently before she leaned over to give him a soft kiss.

“Still going all protective over me, huh Soldier?” “Always.” he nodded as she leaned over to press her lips gently to his again. Smiling, she softly tucker her hair behind her ears before they both settled down and Steve snapped the car into drive, pulling off into the steady stream of morning traffic.

Yes she's all that I see And she's all that I need And I'm out of my league once again

[theurbansquared]

Guide To Avoiding A Loser Brokerage

by James Hill | theurbansquared

Brokers can be bastards and some even get better at it while other brokers are legitimate life-changing business Sherpas

A broker is supposed to guide you through a career in real estate much like a coach or pimp - offering protection and how to understand a complicated system better and direct it to revenue  without getting your neck broke while playing the game. I created and ran the most well-reviewed, largest full-service brokerage in the fastest-growing city in America.  This gave me access to nearly ever broker and their broker's pay structure and innovations. I also got the agent's version of my same broker buddies brokerages when they eventually joined my brokerage; hovering anywhere from 20–60 agents. Trending insider chatter has blame going to real estate brokers of decades past (and current) and how they’ve managed their agents - - letting unsupervised  agents with no experience run wild on the streets practicing on the public wearing out Realtor love and making a need for all the Mountain Dew-made Zillow-y options that currently exist.

Brokers are out of touch more than ever with today’s current media load, having to understand and use social media platforms for their advertising (since the private Town & Country affair that real estate once was is forever over and the landscape is a bit more like a half Juggalo, half programmer flea market).

Let’s dive into some situations and tenets that most agents don’t consider when choosing a brokerage.

Sales Volume

This is a bit of negotiating psychology and due diligence. Simply ask how much sales they (the brokerage) did last year and how much they’re currently at. If they don’t know these numbers they’re goons. If they don’t give it, you guessed it - they’re hiding something; their lack of revenue. I’ve hired and fired hundreds of agents and in interviews so few ask this question but it’s one of the most important questions you can ask as an agent and you need the information. An agent that doesn’t ask this has already given a tell that they’re not a top producer since they’re not interested in the production capacity of the team they may join. No bueno. Creep the brokerage as well obvi -- reviews, FB & IG engagement and current running ads, and make sure the company Christmas Party isn’t catered by Chic-fil-a at a Burnet Road dive bar.

Office

40% of your learning and 350% of your work will be done at the office. Those numbers will make sense 90% of the time after a few years in real estate. The rest should be on the streets - your car, properties, driving 75 mph talking and sending out docs, gorging on breath mints. Office, home, tiny homes, motorhomes have all blended into one larger conversation where work/live ethos are all in re-definition.

But, when you do need a more savvy moment in any market when people talk about borrowing or selling something that’s over $100K they don’t want to hear some bullshit too loud pedantic conversation seated right next to them at Starbucks or the local kooky coffee shop. In real estate Murphy’s Law is always in effect. The super important listing sign off that has to go well and they want to hear you pitch again before deciding? There will be someone (at this super ‘caj’ coffee house meeting) there projectile vomiting, or throwing cats, or something else tiresome or bad that takes more calls.

Speech and body language are massive parts of sales so when the entire set is thrown because a barista is running through a whole Sublime album. You want the most inviting cool office you can ever pull off at any given moment in real estate . Was that ever a question? There's a balance  -- you can't afford that year one or three, but it’s called real estate for a reason. Sexy, exciting buildings is what the brochure said when I joined. Also, it’s about style not size.

If you haven’t lost business to coffee house back pressure you really haven’t failed at agency properly.

Social IQ

Social reach is the only conversation now. Many brokerages won’t make it as the lead generating aspects of the industry aren't powered by a private MLS anyone and the publicly-hated ‘Realtor’ designation have both brokers and agents guessing about tomorrow. Calendars, best practices and free shitty tips & templates are the du jour of the day for anyone trying to get an agent's eyes. You can Google and get all the ‘basic’ social media dance steps, but with everyone at the same happy hunting spot, you’re being covered up, which leaves all your new artistic efforts fruitless and also squandering winning time.

Traffic, leads and engagement are all separate areas that have to be fulfilled properly and even this is in flux with historic corporations and current start ups all on the same advertising playing field. Social reach and engagement is about going to the consumer direct and becoming their friend with soft bribes -- free food, gifts, prizes (trips, events tickets) or industry work tools. The great news is, real estate has always been mostly consumer direct - start up a convoy at the grocery store (bar, church, meetup) and you’re in the car that weekend looking for houses with a new client. While you, your brokerage and the world are figuring out their exact social media mix, you need to make sure a brokerage isn’t lost on social media since many won’t be able to stay in business in the next few short years. Your brokerage needs to have a plan and and at best some presence on social media. Plus, they should be running low-cost performative marketing ad campaigns to get a feel for what and if set user groups are responding to ads. Anyone can post on IG but people engage on IG when they become inspired. A brokerage should have some sort of inspiration and relationship tied in with the local allure of their city --  or heading that direction.

Mentoring

Much like a neurotic buyer chasing an interest rate for their home mortgage (and then never buying a house) agents too focused on commission may miss the essential career need for mentoring -- for their clients and career. I had a 5 deal minimum for my new agents before they were ever unsupervised and received more commission. I've had new agents with celeb clients in hand and celeb agents with no clients in hand. No one wants to do business with someone with absolutely has no, experience but they do it because they like you as a friend or fam. Your mentor is the person riding shotgun with you at the beginning of your career. On many levels you want to be this person since they embody the position and role. You're literally and figuratively are borrowing experience from them and they deserve to be paid for it. You always have to strengthen your brand outside of your brokerage but if you don’t have any experience your brand doesn’t have ���strength’ you simply have a logo and a drag & drop website where you're possibly talking about yourself and love of unicorns or football shit but the big boat deals you dream about in bed aren’t gotten this way. Remember, no unicorn could ever throw a football good without a lot of practice and a good mentor.

Support

Support in a brokerage is really communication and solutions for small problems, and systems for managing bigger ones with people. Most of the annoying things in real estate happen outside of the deal - contracts, calls, emails, docs, signatures, more docs. You typically want a super admin, broker, or agent manager that you can call and they pick up the phone. It’s pretty simple. With a mentor, admin, or broker you’re going to have a n 8:30 PM question or deal that’s going down. You’ll need printer help. Real estate always happens now (this was one of the main mantras in my office). Printing, prequal, weekend support and constant post dinner shenanigans.

Training

Meet Frank Miller, David Mamet, the Sex Pistols, Tony Robbins, Wayne Dyer, Hendrix, Tom Hopkins, The World’s Greatest Detective and Conan The Barbarian. We had a lot of different inspirations for the style and ethos of our urban brokerage. The World’s Greatest Detective is Batman. It was a moniker that became popular in the seventies. We used this example about how important due diligence and proper Fact Finding techniques are for serving and closing deals for clients. (It’s almost essential to be inquisitive in real estate esp about property/development to have success). Training is largely your sales meeting(s). Although I don’t come from a car background I’ve mentored many car guys transferring to real estate (they typically are out of the industry within 2 years and are there only for boom markets). Car guys have meetings every morning 6 days a week and they’re not at 9 or 10 am. They’re already working.

free module: The Burger King Phenomena: Why Agents Do Less Working For Themselves Than If They Were Working At Burger King

Many brokerages have no training/meeting schedule (monthly doesn’t count -- that’s a meet and greet company pump and catch up meeting). If a brokerage doesn’t have training on a schedule then there is no training. You’ll possibly be thrown a 3-ring binder, or given some PDF’s, or links to old bizarre training videos or a soup sandwich of all three and sometimes even a bill for the training. An agent’s training/meetings and their attendance to them are the difference between an agent making it or not when you’re 24 months or less in the role as an agent especially in the fast turbulent waters of the current 2021 market where brokerage and agent purpose and pay are under attack. From my experience, new agents that hide die.

Media

Having a background as a creative director I’m aware with great detail of agency and brokerage media needs, the cost and time they extract, and the corresponding revenue they’re projected to bring back. Brokerages are looking for their purpose now as simply having a brokerage doesn’t bring in leads like it used to. This is fitting, since the digital dumbass brokers that that didn’t understand the importance of ‘the web’ rickshawed our MLS data and sold the agent/broker centric real estate system for their benefit while current agents are left with an empty greasy enough to-go box to curl up with. Brokerages were never media houses or ad agencies but now that consumer level graphic programs and website builders are ubiquitous and any agent after being licensed for 10 days can drag & drop a website up in 4 hours and make it look like a brokerage that’s been around for years. I know I’m going wide on the subject here but stay with me because this is the crux of where the industry and consumer are renegotiating roles.

A brokerage’s value proposition has changed drastically with the telecommute revolution that was only sped and strengthened by Covid. Also, generational knowledge base gaps in technology are more apparent than ever with technology as younger agents can often be more media savvy than their broker. The market is flooded with self appointed companies or gurus that are taking on the role of the classic ad agency (Mad Men) or media production house. Also beware of real estate coaches with little or no real estate experience offering to guide you in social media. Okay media can’t be used in apex situations (such as the luxury listings you’re after) and doesn’t draw apex listings. Beware of tapioca room temperature tips and general lists from companies that can appear informative but are really boilerplate low grade data to get your attention to ultimately upsell you on a paid service.

As an agent or a brokerage, consumer level graphic and website building programs can be a death ticket to your business as your competitors have the same tools and are cranking out the same type of style of messaging you are now. Now agents, principals, admins and in art class creating flyers. This has been done since the nineties as the valleys of dead agent careers is full of 2-day Microsoft Word (or any of their shitty office offerings) seshes to produce nasty flyers and presentations. These programs are fun and making bad flyers absolutely work related - the kind of work you don’t want’ related to your business because it’s adult crayon coloring. Activity does not equal production. Staying busy doing the wrong things doesn’t make money in real estate. Rather than spending agent winning time staying in the wrong lanes for way too long, get with a team or brokerage that are providing the most exceptional visual media you can find in your market. It used to be cool 2 years ago, now it’s the only thing that matters. Visual content.

free module: Better Agent Media, Less Agent Money (media tips and hacks).

Access

This is access to your broker. Brokers with families are typically less available. Your best bet as an agent is looking for a grinder broker who sleeps on the couch at their office. This person doesn’t have kids to build into so they’ll build into your career and you’ll get the most out of these brokers. Beware of cheesedick, apathetic, rich boy, bored brokers not around and more concerned with projects like a shitty vanity wine brand that their wife’s forced them to launch since she’s not living her best life anymore as an agent.

Style

What kind of style is your brokerage? Is there an opportunity to bring more style sophistication to the market -- standout in a smaller market? Or, are you in an ultra stylish market currently and butt hurt because you already have a little story about how you’re going to keep it real and be a Dockers wearing slob for eternity? The thing about style in agency is you always need to look like you can list a million dollar house. Oh, is it really that simple? Yes it is. You complicated it. Clients always care about their housing a little bit more than they care about your real estate career. They don’t have time to figure out why you’re wearing shoe styles from 7 years ago. Don’t make it hard for people to do business with you. If you’re ugly, even better. It can be a massive advantage. Everyone on the planet loves when someone who doesn’t fall into our general current ‘attractive’ spectrum doesn’t give af, looks great and puts themselves together in a stylish way that the viewer can understand (can I get away with Teen Wolf?). A great side benefit from this step in the right direction is it’s a great way to make someone who is conventionally attractive insecure.

You want to be in the same style as the people in your area but the secret is you need to lead that style pack if you can -- you always lead and dress apex. Years ago this was anecdotal but after over 100K hours in real estate a good suite (tailored) saved my ass and literally got me business. I listed the largest house in east Austin because of a suit (and got a front page story on the newspaper real estate section for free because the owner saw me walking into the next door neighbor’s house).

Offices, dress, logo, email signature are all elements of you and your brokerage’s style. Style in and of itself isn’t enough to be a top producer in real estate. I’ve had stylish and even celebrity agents that didn't do zilch, but style often is a fingerprint to something more.

Picking the right elements for your agent style is an art because you have to offer something from yourself that’s unique enough as well as something familiar (a bridge to your uniqueness). I have a background as a musician and also as a merchant sailor. Fortunately those are easy convo starters. You could be a philatelist and have some challenges, but regardless it absolutely will take a year or three to develop your own angle and style towards the market as you learn it and the agent role more.

Things that look attractive and familiar puts client’s psychologies at ease. So, if skinny jeans are in you better get in them (that’s like five years old now). You’re on stage. You don’t wear what the worker people behind the camera wear. If you want to wear boring shit get on the other side of the camera. If you want less leads saddle up to a forgettable brokerage. People have hard days. They want you to put an effort into your real estate agency role. Currently it’s a fried role so you’re dealing with that too. People love to be smiled at and sold and especially from someone who smells good. It doesn't ever get old. Don’t make them beg for your charm. Be a nice charming person with a shirt that fits good, it’s a powerful combo.

Get My Damn Paper

If you’ve never seen a werewolf in daylight mess with an agent’s commission after the deal’s done and funded. Admin? Who is the damn person who does the admin? (accounts payable is the icey pro word if you like). That person that you contact to get your commission check cut? If that person is a weirdo, or there’s an unfriendly or sketchy quality to the office or admin staff, do not go forward (don’t confuse this with new people or industry jitters). Grab some free coffee, leave the smarm and jet to the next brokerage blind date.

Software

CRM is an annoying conversation. Here’s the things with CRM’s - for all the work CRMs curtail, because of their complexity and existence and the work(time) they take to interact with you need to consider how much work you’re putting into operating the CRM software verses how much time it’s saving. Many times brokerages have expensive yearly subscriptions with per agent fees for their CRM which can make the brokerage have a zealot meth thing for the ‘team’ software and promise you can’t have a career without taking a bump too. To understand CRM better before it was a name, Client Relationship Management is what analog Proximity became. Let me explain -  being close to people in Church, bar, school, same building -- all give proximity. This becomes familiarity, then ease, then trust. People do business with people they trust & like. Once people disconnected physically and started using other means more contact attempts have to be made to work for or ‘prove’ worth.

Follow Up is a large component of most CRM’s and there are gobs of money for agents who follow up meticulously. Simply ask the broker what CRM they use and research it. Something to remember - unless you’re extremely busy with your career you don’t need a CRM. You can manage & database your clients & leads ‘by hand’ and strap it to the cloud with G-Suite/Google Sheets.

Brokerage Name

A small but important aside, if a brokerage have named themselves after a precious metal or a gem, or if it says elite in the name then it’s not elite. If it has the words prestige or worldwide or international it may not be any of those either. I know a handful of exceptions to this rule but this is a great dirty primer to use when choosing a brokerage that’s going to propel your career and have shrimp options at the Christmas Party.

[scifigeneration]

America is drinking its way through the coronavirus crisis – that means more health woes ahead

by David H. Jernigan

Shopping for wine in Seattle, where many liquor stores are considered “essential businesses.” AP Photo/Elaine Thompson

In the midst of the COVID-19 epidemic, it has become easier to buy alcohol than toilet paper or eggs.

Across the U.S., governors are terming alcohol sales an essential business and loosening restrictions to permit home delivery and carryout cocktails, throwing an economic lifeline to one group of small businesses.

Are alcohol sales actually essential? According to the federal government, just over half of Americans age 18 and above (55.3%) drank alcohol in the past 30 days; just over a quarter binged – more than four drinks on an occasion for women, or five for men – and 1 in 17 (5.8%) had an alcohol use disorder, ranging from mild to severe.

For those in this latter group who are actually dependent on it, alcohol may indeed be essential.

But evidence thus far in the epidemic is that people in general are buying more alcohol, and in larger quantities. As someone who has spent 30 years studying the link between alcohol policy and public health, I know that this is likely to result in a spike in alcohol use disorders for years to come.

Booze up

According to Nielsen figures, for the week ending March 14, off-premise outlets such as liquor and grocery stores saw sales of wine up 27.6%, spirits by 26.4% and beer, cider and malt beverages by 14% compared to the same week a year earlier. Sales of 3-liter boxes of wine rose by 53%, and 24-packs of beer increased by 24%. Online alcohol sales for that week were also up, 42% year-on-year.

Some of this increase is undoubtedly stockpiling, especially given that in many locations bar and restaurants are closed. But we also know from prior experience and studies that periods of economic and psychological stress like this have two effects on alcohol use. People have less money to spend on alcohol, which drives their spending down; at the same time, they are likely to drink more to alleviate the stress they are feeling. In short, they are buying larger quantities of cheaper alcohol.

This increase in drinking will have both a short- and a long-term impact on health and safety. In the short term, alcohol abuse suppresses multiple aspects of the body’s immune system response, with particular effects on the lungs’ ability to fight off infections like COVID-19.

The rise in off-premise sales of alcohol and home consumption will also likely affect interpersonal violence. Adding alcohol to a possibly violent situation is like pouring gasoline on a lit fire. Off-premise sales of alcohol are more likely to be associated with violent crime than drinking in a bar or restaurant, as the drinking takes place without the presence of servers and other patrons. Multiple cities are reporting decreases in property crimes in the wake of the pandemic, but a rise in domestic violence. Child abuse cases may also be on the rise – while national data are not available, a Fort Worth hospital that usually sees eight such cases in a month saw six in a week.

Binge drinking

As for long-term effects, a study of the impact of the SARS outbreak on Beijing hospital employees in 2003 found greater likelihood of alcohol abuse or dependence symptoms three years later associated with quarantine or working in high-risk settings such as wards dedicated to treating patients with the respiratory illness. Greater exposure to the 9/11 terrorist attack on the World Trade Center was associated with more binge drinking after a year, and higher odds of alcohol dependence one and two years later. In the wake of Hurricane Katrina, alcohol consumption rose. After Hurricane Rita, adolescent alcohol use increased in Louisiana. What this suggests is that during the coronavirus crisis, people are putting in place patterns of heavier drinking that will show up in future higher rates of alcohol use disorders.

As governors declare alcohol sales essential, cities can still use policy levers to flatten this curve of problems from alcohol use. Prior to the coronavirus outbreak, CityHealth, a project of the de Beaumont Foundation and Kaiser Permanente rated the nation’s 40 largest cities on whether they have claimed jurisdiction over alcohol sales within their borders.

Eight can regulate alcohol outlets, including limiting hours and days of sale, establishing maximum purchase amounts, and banning price discounting, which is known to increase alcohol consumption. If necessary, they can also shut down premises.

Another eight have elements of local control over alcohol sales, but lack jurisdiction over some portion of new or existing outlets.

The remaining 24 cities lack control, because they are preempted from it by state laws that prohibit local action, or because they have not expressly taken such authority in their city codes. Yet even in these cities, civic and public health leaders could use emergency powers to limit or shut down alcohol sales in their jurisdictions.

Measures and optics

A large body of research has found that the number of stores selling alcohol in an area, and how they serve and sell it matters for public health. The Task Force on Community Preventive Services concluded that limiting both the density of outlets and the hours and days they may sell are effective measures for reducing alcohol problems.

There are many anecdotal reports of stores limiting how many rolls of toilet paper consumers may purchase, yet people are walking out with cartloads of alcoholic beverages. Jurisdictions at every level, including cities, need to be aware of the likely effects of increased alcohol abuse in times like this, and use the policy levers at their disposal to mitigate these effects. Alcohol may be essential for some, but too much of it is dangerous for many, both now and into the future.

About The Author:

David H. Jernigan is a Professor of Health Law, Policy & Management at Boston University

This article is republished from our content partners over at The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. 

[venusxxlangdon]

draw me like one of your french boys

warnings: smut, fluff, handjob, oral (female receiving, facesitting), praise kink, sub!Michael, Hawthorne!Michael, shy!Michael, female!reader

 summary: reader is an artist looking for a live model for her new artwork. When she meets Michael, she realizes that the boy, who looks like a Renaissance painting, is exactly who she’s been looking for. They grow found of each other, and one day Michael asks her to draw him. Naked.

word count: 6850

Every artist experiences existential crises at least once in their lifetime, and if they haven’t experienced it yet, it means that they are about to. It’s an inevitable burden that occurs in everyone’s life, especially after they become successful and the dependency of other people’s opinion increases. An artist, who once created for the sake of the process itself, gets trapped in the idea of being liked by their audience. That’s what you were afraid most of all. To become a puppet whose only desire would be to meet somebody else’s expectations.

The sales of your paintings have increased drastically in the past six months and, as your manager kept telling you, it was high time to paint more. You started making new clients and getting offers for a personal exhibition, but it all felt like the weight of the world was forced on your shoulders. You wanted to rebel against it: tell your manager to shut up, and lock yourself in your studio, where you were alone with your thoughts and nobody told you what to do. It had always been your happy place with sketches all over the floor, your very first paintings hanging on the walls, a huge easel right in the center of the room. You loved the smell of fresh oil and ink, and two huge windows that offered a fascinating view of city skyline. How disappointing it was to come over one day and realize that nothing was making you happy anymore, and the main reason for that was right in the corner of the room. A big canvas of your last painting you had been struggling to finish. It was a drawing inspired by the early Renaissance period: a cherub in the rose garden, wrapped in a navy blue silk that was coming down his lean body in waves. The flowers turned out really beautiful, so delicate and precious with the drops of dew on the rosy petals. The problem was with the cherub. For some reason you couldn’t paint his face, and the blank space instead of its place was driving you mad. You wanted it to be special, and you had spent days trying to find a proper live model who could pose for you, but, unfortunately, all these handsome males, you tried to get inspiration from, lacked the innocence of an angel (especially that one guy who posed for you half-naked, when you were painting cherub’s chest, and decided to hit on you. You were quick to explain to him that the job of a live model wasn’t about hooking up with an artist and made sure that he wouldn’t appear in your studio ever again), the lightness and purity. Days went by, your manager started being really annoying, but you kept looking for that very special one, because you felt he was somewhere out there. Your intuition never deceived you.

It was a regular rainy afternoon when you found yourself sitting in a local coffee shop not far from your studio, thinking how bad you didn’t want to go there and face the unfinished painting which was some sort of a reminder of your inability to draw something decent. Another notification popped up on your laptop desktop, and you already new what it was gonna be about. One more email from Mallory.

“Y/N, Mr. Gallant called, and he’s expecting the painting to be done and delivered to his apartment by next Sunday. Get back to work, please”. You sighed disappointedly. Fuck this stupid time-management. You are an artist, a free-spirit and you will be done when YOU decide that it’s time. Having aggressively shut the lid of your laptop down, you stared through the window.

The rain was oblivious of your worries, as each drop bequeathed itself into a cooling air. You felt pathetic and unprofessional. Why everything had to be so complicated? Why did you let your perfectionism take over and prevent you from drawing a face of any model you could pick from a local model agency? It wasn’t even the artwork you’d hang in your apartment, and the man you were painting it for could care less about the face of a cherub as long it was pretty. You knew the answer to all of these questions — because you could never do things halfway — it was either all or nothing, even if it meant sacrificing set deadlines.

You rolled your eyes when your phone started vibrating with an incoming call.

“Yes, Mallory?” You didn’t even have to look at the display to know who was calling, Rubbing the bridge of your nose tiredly, you prepared yourself mentally for another lecture from your manager. “Y/N, you know I would really appreciate if you answered my emails” the voice on the others side was monotonous.

 You sipped your coffee and winced, realizing that the drink had gone cold. Damn.

“I told you I was busy” you answered and looked around the coffee shop, thinking that the way you spend your time could hardly be identified as “busy”. Chewing on your bottom lip, you brought your gaze back to the window.

“Please, tell me that at least you’ve read my last email and you are familiar with the new deadline” you could picture the way Mallory adjusted her glasses, her thin lips pursed, and pale face grimaced with annoyance.

“Yes, I have” you mumbled in response and narrowed your eyes, as you noticed a group of boys crossing the other side of the street. They looked young. Really young. Maybe in their early 20s. Dressed in brown trench coats, they were jumping over puddles briskly, trying not to get their feet wet. Only one of them had an umbrella, so the others were trying to get under it. They were pushing each other with their elbows, playfully fighting for dominance. And then you noticed him. A tall guy who was trying to follow the running boys with his coat unbuttoned, so you could see his black and white uniform. There was a silk ribbon tied neatly around the collar of his crisp white shirt that made him look like he was straight out from some 18th century novel about a private boarding school. His blond hair, wet in the rain, sticked to his chiseled face with sharp, prominent cheekbones and pointy chin.

You literally got glued to the window, admiring him, and forgot that Mallory was still on the line.

“Y/N? Y/N? Can you hear me? The painting should also...”

You cleared your throat and understood that it was either now or never. You didn’t have much time, as the boys took their way down the street away from the coffee shop.

“Mallory” you harshly interrupted her. “I can’t talk right now”, you hanged up on her without even letting her finish the sentence. Her complains were the last thing you worried about when there was a gorgeous boy, who had the face of a cherub you were dying to paint, just several feet away from you. You grabbed your jacket and stormed your way out of the coffee shop. It seemed like your heart was about to beat out of your chest with an overwhelming excitement like a trapped bird. You have found him. You have finally found him.

Faster than the wind you ran after the boys hoping they didn’t go far. You saw the tall guy take a turn around the corner, and without even realizing what you were doing, you shouted at the top of your lungs:

“Excuse me, sir!”

He didn’t pay attention. “Shit” you thought to yourself and speeded up. Raindrops were running down your cheeks, and the wind was blowing right in your face making it extremely uncomfortable to run.

“Heeey!” you almost stumbled and instinctively put your hand out to prevent yourself from falling. Your purse hanged off your shoulder and nearly fell down in the puddle, but you managed to catch it. “Excuse me!”

Right at that moment the guy stopped and slowly turned around. With a slight confusion on his face he watched you slowly approach him, as you were trying to calm your heavy breathing. You imagined that you looked like a wet rat with your hair clanged to you face and smeared mascara — definitely not the most presentable look for the artist whose paintings cost thousands of dollars.

“I’m sorry? May I help you?” the boy asked. His voice was low for an angelic appearance like his. He looked even more handsome up close. The gray sky tinted his blue eyes beautifully, making them brighter. They were piercing at you cautiously, as he was trying to figure out whether he found you familiar. Even though his hair was wet, you still were able to tell that it was curly, as they were sticking to his cheeks in messy waves. You took a deep breath and tucked a piece of your wet hair behind your ear, but it didn’t make any difference to your look.

“Hi!” You smiled brightly. The only thought “it’s him, it’s him!!” was ringing in your head, making you grin like an idiot. Nobody could understand your delight at that moment. It seemed like sleepless nights, when you were eating yourself up for the lack of inspiration, have come to an end. If only this beautiful boy before you agreed to work with you! You would be the happiest person in the world. “I’m sorry for bothering you, sir. But I really need to talk to you...”

“Mikey!! What’s up, dude? Are you coming?” the other boys were calling him. He turned around and raise his right hand in the air.

“Just a moment!” he shouted back at them. He adjusted the collar of his coat bringing it up, so the rain wouldn’t get behind his back. “I’m sorry, who are you again?”

You realized that you should’ve introduced yourself first, but you were taken aback by the beauty of a real-life angel, so you couldn’t blame yourself for that.

“My name is Y/N. I’m an artist” he furrowed his eyebrows, not understanding how it was connected to him, “and I’m looking for a model” you explained. “I’m working on a painting...”, you paused, “of a cherub for a very famous client, but I can’t finish it because I don’t have a model whose face and I could paint, and you are exactly what I’ve been looking for”, you bubbled excitedly.

You could see the blush bloom on the boy’s cheeks. He parted his finely-carved, scarlet lips, but didn’t say anything. Only somewhat confusingly ran his fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not a model”, he mumbled, lowering his eyes. You couldn’t explain the feeling inside of you as you watched him. He reminded you of Botticelli paintings. There was something ethereal about him: in the detached beauty of his perfectly sculpted face. He looked so fresh, so innocent, so pure, as if he was made of ivory and rosy petals.

“It doesn’t matter”, you hurried to assure him, “you don’t have to be one. It’s just...” you took a deep breath, thinking that you might have die if he didn’t agree. “I’ve been looking for a face like yours for months. It would be an honor to work with you...?” You heard one of the boys calling him “Mikey”, but you wasn’t sure what full name it stood for.

“Michael. Michael Langdon” he said, still smiling shyly. He drew his bottom lip between his perfect white teeth and looked at you through his lashes. “Look, I’m really fluttered. Thank you for your words, but....”

“Michael, we are going now!”, the boys shouted, and he turned his broad back at you one more time. It was pouring by now, and you knew that you couldn’t hold the boy any longer.

“Michael, please, think it over and give me a call, okay?” You took your business card out of your purse and handed it to him. “I’m offering you 50$ per hour. One session usually lasts up to 3-4 hours. Please, do the math and give it a thought”.

His doe-like eyes widened at your words. Not only he was blushing from your compliments, but he was stunned by the boldness of your offer, as if you were asking for something inappropriate.

“I-I-I’m really not sure...” he stuttered. You understood his reaction: how often does one gets stopped by a stranger who offers them to model for a renaissance-inspired painting? But you really, really needed him, and you were running out of time.

“Look, I’m not expecting you to answer immediately”, you said looking him in the eye, and noticed that he instantly looked away, blushing even more, “let me know if you agree by Friday, okay?”

The boys started whistling at Michael. He took your card hesitantly, his fingers were slightly shaking. He looked up at you and nodded slowly, hiding the card in the inside pocket of his coat.

“Alright, thank you”, his voice sounded hoarse, so he cleared his throat and repeated himself, “thank you”.

The corners of your lips twitched, but he didn’t return a smile, being too confused and embarrassed with all this unexpected attention to his persona. You watched him join his friends. They tapped his shoulder, as he approached them, and shoot you a curious look.

You realized that you didn’t even care about the pouring rain anymore. You were completely soaked, but the only thing you were capable of thinking was a gorgeous blue-eyed boy you just met.

xxx

The sound of the ringing phone disturbed the comfortable silence of a Saturday afternoon you were spending in your studio. You were waiting for Michael’s call yesterday, but as the hour and the minute hands of the huge clock on the wall stroke midnight, you understood that he turned down your offer. That’s why you found yourself in your studio on the following day, standing in front of the unfortunate painting and thinking that you needed to start looking through the list of potential models Mallory had sent to you.

“Hello?”, you answered the phone, noticing an unknown number on the display. A familiar raspy voice made your heart drop.

“Hi, is it Y/N?”

“Michael?” you turned away from the painting and sat down on sofa, placing your feet on a small coffee table.

“Yeah, hi”, he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you yesterday. Got really busy with school”. School? How old was he? “But I have been thinking about your offer...”

You hummed.

“Have you?”, you had to admit that you didn’t like the fact that he ignored your request to call you back by Friday, because it meant that he wasn’t the most responsible person, and only God knew how you were gonna arrange the appointments with him since he was incapable of planing his time. But then again, weren’t you the same way? For a second you even sympathized with Mallory who had to deal with your own irresponsibility 24/7 (but only for a second).

“Yes”, you could tell by his voice that he was nervous. You smiled at the memory of him blushing in the rain. “Well, I-I-I think I’m ready to try...” you swear you could ready to explode brighter than the fireworks on the 4th of July, but you managed to keep it cool.

“That’s really nice of you. Thank you, Michael. Do you have a pen to write down the details?”

You two agreed that he would come on Tuesday for 2 hours, so you could look at him properly and decide what exactly needed to be added to the painting. Then he could come 2 time a week for 3 hour session. You didn’t plan for the entire process to take too long, 3 weeks maximum. Thank God you had managed to persuade Gallant to give you more time. Actually it didn’t even take a lot of effort: last week, after you discovered Michael, he came came to your studio and got so stunned by the painting that he let you take as much time as you needed. If only all clients were this way.

On Tuesday Michael knocked on your door in time. Dressed in a loose cotton shirt and linen pants, hair clipped in a messy bun, you went to greet him. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to another. Just like you thought, his hair was curly indeed. Crisp, golden locks were styled messily, covering a part of his forehead. He was wearing the same coat and holding a big leather bag in his hand. You stepped aside, inviting him in.

“Hi”, he said, blushing, and you curiously wondered if it was an uncontrollable habit of his.

“Hello, Michael”, you took his bag from his hands and carefully placed it on a table by the hangers. “I’m glad you came”.

He nodded. His long fingers started undoing the buttons of his trench coat. He carefully hanged it, and you noticed how elegant his movements were. He pulled the sleeves of his black sweater a bit up, exposing his delicate wrists. You definitely were staring, but not in a romantic way. You were observing him like a picture in a museum and wondering how you got so lucky to meet this precious boy. He was looking around cautiously, as he followed you into the studio, scanning the unknown environment with his eyes. You made your way to the center of the room, took one of the chairs and pulled it closer to the window, not far from the easel.

“Please, make yourself at home” you smiled at Michael. He looked amused, as he studied a huge painting that was almost of the size of the wall for one of your old clients who ordered it about eight months ago. You created your own version of the Miracle of the Bread and Fish, and really like the result. For some reason, biblical scenes always were your favorite to work on. “Would you like some coffee or tea, maybe?”

Michael looked at you and shook his head.

“No, thank you, I’m good”, his eyes were searching for a place were he could sit, and you pointed at the chair. He took his seat and folded his hands neatly, lacing his fingers together, so you wouldn’t notice them tremble. You watched him amusingly with your head tilted to the side. He was absolutely adorable.

“Do you live here?”, he noticed your gaze and smiled shyly, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear.

You shook your head and turned away to take the painting of the cherub and carefully place it on the easel.

“No, I rent this studio for work purposes”, you nodded at the painting. “So what do you think?”

Michael was in awe. His ocean eyes were glistening with excitement, the tip of his pink tongue ran along his bottom lips nervously, as he said under his breath:

“Oh my God, this is magnificent”.

For a moment it seemed like he stopped being nervous and expressed his opinion sincerely. That’s what you adored art for: it made people feel different spectrums of emotions, all at once. It lifted the armor and left one bare, vulnerable, and unguarded. “I’m not sure if...”, Michael covered his mouth with one hand and than placed it back on his thigh, “if I’m good enough for posing for such a masterpiece”.

You couldn’t believe that such a stunning human being could doubt his looks. Michael’s appearance was worth being painted by the best artists all over the world. How come nobody told him that?“

“I think you will be just perfect for that”, you didn’t admit it, but making Michael blush was your new favorite activity. “But it maybe a bit tiresome to sit still for such a long time”, you instructed him, “you’ll get used to it”.

It was quite a disaster, you had to admit to yourself after some time. Michael just couldn’t keep still. He was constantly shifting in his chair, playing with his fingers, and always felt the need to scratch his jaw or toy with the collar of his sweater. During your first session your were doing sketches of his face, and by the moment your time was up you were practically begging him to relax and stop frowning. He couldn’t let go of his pressure and shyness.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N”, he pleaded, as he was putting on his coat. You smiled at him, washing your hands and watching him get dressed from the kitchen.

“It’s okay”, you approached him and gave him the money for his work, “thank you for coming today, Michael. I’ll see you on Thursday”.

Despite his surprised squeak, you pulled him closer for a hug. You needed him to relax for the sake of posing for the painting. The sessions might haven taken longer than you had thought.

xxx

It took him a while to start opening up to you. By your fourth meeting his hands stopped shaking and he no longer seemed to feel uncomfortable. He didn’t feel embarrassed to ask you to make some tea for him, and you learned that he liked it with lemon and one piece of sugar. As he sipped on it, watching you preparer the canvas and oil paints (you were done with pencil sketches by that time), he told you about his studies at Hawthorne school (Michael was twenty, and apparently, hated his birthdays. You found this fact absolutely astonishing, and made a side note to change this horrible omission), his friends, and his family. Turned out that he had a very troubled childhood, so his behavior started to make sense to you. Sympathy towards him grew with every session, and at some point you caught yourself thinking about him all the time. The thought about your meetings coming to an end made you feel extremely frustrated. Even though you kept reminding yourself that the relationship between you two had to stay professional, and it was wrong of you to think about him in a romantic way, but every time his blond mop of soft hair popped in the door frame you couldn’t hold in a radiant smile. It was impossible not to hug him and accidentally brush your fingers against his flushed cheek. He looked so damn cute.

You grew found of this marvelous boy, who turned out be very sensual, with a bright and vivid mind that generated ideas at the supersonic speed. He loved asking you questions about history of art, he was genuinely interested in learning about your favoring painters and why you loved them so much. He never stopped amazing you with his mindset, and his child-like innocence bribed you.

Another Tuesday night was traditionally spent in your studio apartment with Michael at his usual spot in front of your easel. You were working on the cherub’s eyes. Crystal blue and bright just like Michael’s. Your brows were frowned as you were trying to concentrate on the movements of the brush. The smell of oil paint was filling the room. You glanced at Michael to pay very close attention to his long eyelashes framing his eyes. That’s when you noticed a very strange look on his face. You couldn’t understand what was that. Confusion? Doubt?

“Michael, what’s wrong, darling?”, you asked him adding another brush stroke to the canvas. He slowly shook his head, trying not to move too much. From hours of watching him attentively you had learned his body language quite well. Now you could tell that something was definitely up, judging by the fact how he was holding onto the chair. His knuckles turned white. However, you proceed to painting, considering that maybe he was thinking of his problems or whatever there was on his mind.

“Love, please, look up for me”, you asked him after a while, trying to paint the patches of light in the eyes of the cherub. Michal started biting on his lower lip, but obliged your order and lifted his gaze. Suddenly it all felt like you were back to session 1, when he refused to relax. You put the brush aside and whipped the excess of paint off your fingers.

“Michael, please, tell me what’s bothering you?”, his face turned bright red at your question.

“Nothing”, he mumbled in response.

You sighed and took a step towards him. Carefully you took his face in your hands, forcing him to look up at you. You were glad that he didn’t shy away from your touch like he used to at the very beginning.

“Love, I can’t paint you when you look concerned”, you gently stroked his cheek with your thumb, and he instinctively nuzzled against your palm. It was unprofessional of you, you thought to yourself, but whatever. “You know that you can tell me anything”.

His eyes flattered, long eyelashes were casting shadows on his cheekbones in the dim light of the room. He wrapped his fingers around your wrists and carefully put your hands away.

“You’re gonna laugh at me”, he said, looking down at his knees. You frowned. Why was that? All this time you were trying to show him that he could trust you and you were his friend, and his doubts almost felt offensive to you.

“Michael, darling, I would never”, you assured him, watching him closely.

A broken cry escaped from his chest, as he hid his face in his hands. You started really worrying about him, was something hurting him? Maybe he wasn’t feeling well? You petted his head lovingly.

“I can’t tell you”, he sobbed, and looked up at you. The expression of his face was unreadable. Eyes glistened with salty tears, as he was desperately trying to hold them in. “It’s so e-emb-b-barrassing. You...”, he sighed, “you’re going to think that I’m weird. I can’t ask you for this...”

By that moment you stopped understanding anything from what he was saying. You wrapped your arms around him and brought him closer to you, resting his head against your stomach.

“Shhhh, baby”, you coed, running the fingers of your one hand though his hair and petting up and down his spine with the other hand. “What do you want, Michael? Please, tell me”.

You felt him tightening his hug and nuzzling into your shirt like a cat. He sighed heavily before he answered:

“I was thinking”, his voice sounded so small and vulnerable, and you started wandering what sort of a dreadful sin Michael was going to confess that made him so insecure. ���Maybe you could draw me?”

He lifted his puppy eyes at you, and you looked at him confused.

“Baby, isn’t it what I’m doing?”, you chucked softly. Silly boy.

Michael closed his eyes and nuzzled back into your stomach. You had to listen carefully in order to understand his muffled words:

“I was thinking maybe you could draw me naked?”

Your fingers froze in the air inches away from his curls. At first you thought that you must have misheard him, but as his shoulders started shaking in anticipation, you realized that you had heard him correctly. Your heart started pounding, you could hear the blood ring in your ears. The most terrible thing , in the context of your unprofessionalism, was the fact that his words sent impulses straight to you core making a thin cotton of your panties wet. You cleared your throat, looking for the right words. Michael was terrified. He decided that if you had stopped playing with his hair, you got mad at him, so he squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back the tears.

“Michael...”, you started slowly, but he interrupted you.

“Y/N, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have...I’m sorry”, he was talking fast, afraid that you could kick him out for his foolishness.

Multiple thoughts were running through your mind at that particular moment. Could you really draw him naked and manage not to lose control? Of course, it would be a wonderful sketch for your portfolio, but you doubted if it would be okay for you psych. The silence was making Michael feel even more embarrassed, so he started standing up from his chair, but you placed your hands on his shoulders to keep him seated. God, he was so scurrying all the time, it was almost unbearable.

“Alright, Michael”, you finally replied, hoping that he didn’t sense how hesitant you were about this decision, otherwise it would devastate him. A wide smile spread across his cherry lips.

“Oh my God, thank you, Y/N” he whispered giving you that look through his lashes you could never say “no” to.

You nodded and made your way to one of the shelves to get a sketchbook.

“Well,” you turned back to him, “get ready, and I’ll go find the fabric to wrap you in”.

Michael was eager to oblige. You didn’t expect him to want it so bad, but as he quickly stood on his feet and rushed behind the folding screen, you thought otherwise.

Unable to believe what you had just agreed to, you started looking through the rolls of fabric, trying to decide what color would suit Michael. Probably silver. It would look good with his skin tone and the icy blue of his eyes. You grabbed the fabric and approached the changing screen behind which you could see the outline of Michael’s body. You hurried to hang the piece over the screen and shook your head, as if it would help you to get rid of the indecorous thoughts.

“I think silver will look good”, you said to Michael, “just wrap yourself in it when you are ready”, you swore your hands were shaking. What, you and Michael suddenly switched personalities? God, how were you gonna draw him when you were blushing like a teenage girl?

“Damn, Y/N, you’ve worked with so many models. Get your shit together and breath”, you scold yourself.

“Okay, I’m ready”, you turned around when you heard his low voice, and your jaw dropped. Adonis in flesh. You stood there blinking dumbly trying to comprehend the view of his broad shoulders, taut stomach, and his creamy thighs wrapped in silver silk. If the fabric had been navy blue you would have thought that your cherub painting came to life. No less. You opened your mouth and then closed it without saying a word. Michal blushed and awkwardly crossed his arms, waiting for the instructions.

You coughed and turned your gaze away from him.

“Alright, get comfortable on the sofa”, you figured that a chair wasn’t suitable anymore. The boy laid down on a green velvet sofa you had bought for an extremely expensive price at one of the auctions, and at that moment you were glad that you had, because Michael’s pale skin looked even more fragile, tinted by the emerald color of velvet upholstery. He bent his long legs, carefully put them on the soft material, and leaned back on the pillows with his hands behind his head. For a second you forgot how to breath.

But as soon as you started sketching you felt relaxed. You let the pencil wonder around the clean sheet of paper, drawing the outlines of Michael’s body. He couldn’t stop smiling and looked genuinely happy that you’d let him pose for you. The skin of his cheeks and neck was in delicate pink hue, and he was biting his lips again. You wish you could bite them, too. Fuck.

Your brows frowned when you noticed that the silver fabric slipped off a little and didn’t look as good as you wanted it to be, so you put your pencil aside and stood up to fix it. Michael thought there was something wrong with him.

“Did you do something wrong?”, he asked worriedly. You wondered why he always felt the need to blame himself for everything.

“No, I just need to adjust the fabric”, you explained, without meeting his gaze. You tried not to touch his skin, as your fingers cautiously folded the silky piece, draping it in wavy folds. But the skin of his stomach looked so soft, and couldn’t help yourself and brushed it with just the tips of your digits. The muscles in his tummy tensed immediately, and you heard his breath hitch, so you hurried to take you hand away. Then he did something that sent the remains of your self-control straight to hell. Michael wrapped his fingers around your wrist and put your hand back on his stomach. Feeling enchanted, you slowly moved it to his abdomen and stopped right above the happy trail of blond hairs that went under the fabric. When you glanced at Michael, he was watching you in awe, his lips parted and his eyes wide open. It felt like his skin was burning under your touch.

“You like this, don’t you?”, the tone of your own voice was so low, you didn’t even recognize it. Michael gulped and nodded. His lids fluttered, as you move your hand to his chest.

“Please”, he murmured, licking his scarlet lips. He looked so soft, so innocent, and you wondered how beautiful he would look all wrecked and fucked out. You felt the adrenaline rush through your veins and the familiar heat between your legs. The last thought that came across your mind was “Fuck it”, as you leaned forward and pressed your lips against Michael’s parted ones. He let out a surprised mewl, but eagerly kissed you back. You felt his hands sliding down your waist to pull you closer against his bare chest. The fabric couldn’t cover the outline of his arousal: you could see the contour of his erect cock in the crease of his thigh. The tip of your tongue ran across Michael’s swollen lips, and he gasped into the kiss.

“You’re so pretty”, you said, as you broke the kiss, pressing your forehead against his. The look in his big eyes was completely dazed. You smiled and cupped his face in your hands. “Babe, are you with me?”

Michael nodded and pulled you for another kiss. You yanked his head by his locks and moved your lips to his jawline. Numbing on the thin skin, you decided to test the waters and slowly snaked your hand down to his cock. He moaned brokenly when you stroked it through the fabric. There was already a wet spot of his precum. You moved the sheer material aside and took a look at the long shaft with flushed head glistening with the pearls of his arousal. He squeezed his eyes shut, when you wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock and slowly stroke it.

“Y/N”, he pledged. He sounded so needy, so desperate. You formed a fist and started making circular motions with it around the head of his cock. Michael opened his mouth, but couldn’t say a word, lost in the sensation. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He looked like a painting with his boyish features, soft curls, and ripe, sinful lips he kept licking. You started stroking him faster, thrilled to take him apart and find out what his angelic face looked like when he was cumming.

“Shhhh”, you soothed him, lacing the fingers of your free hand into the strands of his hair and gently scratching at the nape of his neck. “My pretty boy”, you kissed his forehead.

Michael whimpered and pressed his head against your breasts nuzzling into them through your linen shirt. Holding tight to you, he carefully cupped your right breast and squeezed it slightly, making you moan and throw your head back. He was pleased with your reaction, as it got him braver, and he started unbuttoning your shirt, exposing more of your skin. You kept pressing feather light kisses to his closed lids, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose and his lips. His face must have been carved by angels from the finest marble. He wrapped his lips around your nipple and delicately sucked on it, drawing broken moans from your throat.

His hips were rutting against the crumpled fabric, meeting the thrusts of your hand. You stopped only for a second just to lick your palm, and wrap it around him again to resume pumping your fist.

“Y/N...”, he whined hopelessly, “I’m close”.

You knew that he wouldn’t last long. He was so young, you were surprised he hadn’t cum right after you kissed him.

“C’mon, darling”, you encouraged him, teasing the slit of his tip, “cum for me, angel. My personal cherub...”

You adored the way his lips twitched, forming a perfect “o”, the tense muscles of his stomach that spasmed in a convulsing pleasure, as he came all over your palm in white ribbons. You wished you could paint him this way. The picture of him cumming undone was forever imprinted in your mind. You smiled fondly when he looked up at you, feeling the warmth coil in the pit of your stomach.

“Thank you”, he whispered, and you chuckled at his boldness. His hands traveled up to your unbuttoned shirt and slid it off your shoulders, reliving your exposed chest to him. He caressed the nipples and leaned forward to suck on them again, swirling his wicked tongue around the hardening buds. “I think I owe you an orgasm now”.

You looked at him in surprise. He didn’t have to. You just wanted to make him feel good, but Michael seemed pretty determined.

“Could you, please, sit on my face?”, he blushed at his own words, but managed not to turn his eyes away from you. Such a polite boy.

You hissed through gritted teeth, and before straddling his chest you involved him in another passionate kiss. He shifted on the pillows, sliding down the sofa to let you straddle his chest in a kneeling position. You scooted forward until your thighs were on either side of his head. The gold curls were disheveled. Lowering your body, as your pussy made contact with his face, you moaned loudly. Michael placed his hands on your thighs and calves for your leverage. As soon as his tongue licked a wide stripe across your wet folds, you cried out, thinking you were in heaven. The feeling of dominance was alluring to you, and in no time you started drawing figure eights with your hips, rubbing yourself against his tongue. You were probably suffocating himself a bit, but judging by Michael’s muffled moans he was enjoying it. He used his fingers to help himself and spread you open, wrapping his lips around your clit. The gently sucking was alternated with him lapping on your folds.

“Good boy”, you praised him, and his whimpers sent delicious sensation to your throbbing core. You reached for your hair clip and took it off, letting your hair down in loose waves. “Just like that, baby, just like that”.

You thought that you lost yourself when his started fucking you with his tongue, stretching your tight walls with each thrust of it. Your legs started shaking not only from your attempts to keep steady, but from the mind-blowing pleasure the boy between your legs was causing you. He was devouring you, as if you were his last meal. You looked down at him and moaned at the sight of him all soft and flushed beneath you. The fact you were sitting on the face of the boy, who looked like a real-life angel, made your insides quiver. A really warm fuzzy feeling spilled inside you, making you scream out Michael’s name, as your orgasm pierced through every cell of your body. It was so good, to the extent of being extricating. Everything seemed unreal. Michael had let go of your thighs, and you bent over to kiss his mouth covered in your wetness.

You were laying on top of Michael, skin on skin, legs entwined, as you two were kissing lazily on the sofa.

“What are you going to do with all the sketches of my face after you sell your painting?” he asked, stroking your bare thigh.

You folded your hands on his chest and rested your head on them.

“I was thinking of using them for my personal exhibition”.

Michael’s eyes lit up with curiosity.

“You never told me about the exhibition! Y/N, that’s awesome!”

You petted his cheek, smiling at his reaction. Thanks to him you started to remember what it felt like to be grateful for every little thing in you life. Somehow, despite all the difficulties, Michael managed to keep his inner child safe and happy.

“Am I invited?” he wondered shyly.

“Of course you are, love” you rolled your eyes at his silly question. “You are my muse, after all”

Tag list: @lovelykhaleesiii @langdons-rep @babypinkstyles94 @sammythankyou @kaigitana @ms-mead @sebastianshoe @langdonsdemon @iloveziggystardust @chaoticevillangdon

People who might like it: @lvngdvns @icylangdon @ritualmichael @langdonsoceaneyes @ccodyfern @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @sojournmichael @wroteclassicaly 

Amazing art by @theghostoflangdon

[auto4333]

Easy Steps: How to Find Good Used Cars and Avoid The Lemon

As i work in the auto industry and a question i am asked over and over by friends and family is: "Whats the best way to attempt finding good used cars? " Many of us chose to buy used cars. It can make a lot of sense. You know new cars can lose up to 30% of their value in the first 2 years. If you end up needing to distribute that new car too soon you will have wasted all that money. The only problem is that buying used vehicles can be a mine field of errors. You need to know your stuff. You also need sharp wits and to understand your pitfalls. The truth is that we are not all mechanics and we don't all have the eye for knowing a bad from the good used car. Today I will share some steps and tricks that will improve the chances of people making a sound choice. There is a lot to know about used cars, but with the following ideas, you will be properly on your way. Why Buy Good Used Cars? Take advantage of the depreciation. When you buy a used car, that is a few years old, you've got saved yourself the 20%-30% value loss on that car. Someone else has paid that for you. You've got reduced the risk of burring yourself in that car financially. If for some reason you need to sell the car again more rapidly then planned, you will be in a far better position. Take your pick! When you buy used, there are many different things that may well effect price. You will have way more options in terms of model, brand, age, mileage. You have the option of buying a car that you really normally could not afford if it was brand new off the car lot. You can really set any budget and even shop with in that budget. You could literally spend $2, 000 or $200, 000 on a used car. Just about every city is ripe with a vast selection of used cars in good condition. Something new in the used car unit each day. The used car market is always changing. It means that there are always different cars to find and choose from. The majority Victoria dealers will have fresh inventory each month. Often you can find the new inventory right at home with your computer. There are also tonnes of private sales listed each day. Should You Buy Used Cars Privately Or From A Dealer? There are strengths in choosing to work with a dealer, as well as a private owner. Private sale used car advantages: You can sometimes see great deals in the private sale listing. With some patience and time, online you can find the good deals. Several sellers online are doing it because they are under the gun and need the cash fast. Often , private owners may not be as aggressive when it comes to talking about numbers and the process. Private owners will allow you to take things at your own speed. Most car salesmen will try and move you to make a choice as soon as they can. This unneeded pressure can be shunned by finding a reliable salesmen or staying in the private market. Dealer Advantages: You can save a ton of time period if you go to a Used Car Dealer. They will have way more selection in one place. As much as we don't like the gross sales process, one thing it does is save time. The key is finding a reliable sales person. One who actually cares approximately you. Talking to someone about what kind of car you need, then driving, and then talking about numbers all in one morning means you can rule a car in or out with in a few hours. Used car dealer in many aspects must declare auto Dec's. They will have documents such as a Car Proof or Car Fax and protection inspections on hand. These are valuable documents that many private sellers overlook. They are hard proof of a vehicles historical past. Private Used Car Disadvantage Most people sell a car in private so they can get as much for it as possible. If they don't care about getting the most they could then they would have sold it to a dealer. Most people will shop privately as they feel they can get a better deal then if they went to a dealer. In most cases, private car shoppers not to mention private car sellers, are further apart on price then car dealers and car shoppers. Quite often private sellers are far more emotionally attached to their car then dealer is and have a inflated knowledge of its value. Dealer Disadvantage Very often dealers will have extra costs attached to the sale of a used car. They are going to also want you to purchase extra warranties and products. Many of these products may not suit your life or must have. Be mindful of what you are signing for. Don't be afraid to ask early what the extra fees will be and also what they are for. Many of the products are of use in curtain situations. Once you have listened to and understood precisely what the extras are, make a rational choice as to whether you need them or not. How to pick the correct car. Car Proof or Car Fax! Do not buy a used ca, private or at a dealer, until you have read the Car Proof/Car Fax. The Car Proof, is a history report that will tell you if the car may be repaired due to collisions. It will also let you know if it was an x-rental, x-lease or has been registered out of the state. It will also give an overview of some of the major maintenance work and were it was done. This document can be a must for buying used vehicles. Most dealers will have one available. If you are shopping privately and the user does not have one. Tell the owner that you won't buy unless a car proof is provided. Look under the vehicle. Get down and a little dirty. Check under the vehicle for rust. Rust is a killer. Look at the shock, and in the engine compartment as well. Open up the hood. Most used car dealers will have cleaned the algorithm very well. There are still signs you can find. Look for leeks, rust, and wear and tear. Start the car with the hood open. In the event the engine is cold it will reveal the most. Get out again and look at the engine while it is running. You should listen for squeaks, whines, ticking and other odd sounds. Inspect the inside well. Use your nose. Sniff plus sniff some more. Often strong perfumes, and fresheners will be used if the car had mold, dogs, as well as smokers. Lift the floor mats and check for moisture. Also check the spare tire compartment. Again, try to look for rust and moisture in these spots. Take it for a drive. Before you get going to fast, put your car in neutral and give it some gas. Keep an eye on the mirrors and what comes out the back. You don't wish to see big plumes of smoke. The drive should cover different roads. Highways, back roads, a few bumps as well. When its safe, let go of the wheel on a straight road. See if the steering is usually aligned. Over bumps, listen for squeaking and other noises. When you get back, park over a clean section of all the lot/driveway. Then turn the car off. This is when you will look over some of the paper work. After about quarter-hour go back to the car and look under the engine. See if there are any wet marks on the driveway or great deal. After the car has been running any leaks will start to drip. If they do. Don't buy the car. At this point you ought to know if the car is in the running or not. Most reputable Car Dealers will have done an check up of the car. You should have access to the report. Look over it and see if everything checks out. If it's a private sale and you like the car, now would be a good time to schedule a third party inspection. One final take note, TRUST YOUR GUT!. If you have done the steps listed you should have a solid idea weather the car you are looking at is good running shape. Don't be afraid to drag a friend along. Someone you know will be very objective regarding the whole thing. They can give some feed back and their opinion. Let them know that all you want is their own impression of the car, not whether you should buy it or not. There are tonnes of other steps, tips and tricks that I did not cover. If you have any ideas to add, please do in the comment section. Any thing you may add so save someone from buying the dreaded lemon will help. I hope this instill your confidence to obtain out there and start looking for that good used car.

[vagrantblvrd]

Strange Luck (1/1)

Summary: The problem with living in the city is that sometimes it makes getting your hands on rare ingredients for spells a goddamned ordeal.

Notes: This wasn't supposed to be a Thing, but I kept thinking about this post and it happened anyway. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(Read on AO3)

The problem with living in the city is that sometimes it makes getting your hands on rare ingredients for spells a goddamned ordeal.

Always some vital component to it that no one’s seen or even heard of for at least a generation or two, or it’s so rare it’s only known to grown in a certain climate in certain conditions.

Half the time there’s a complicated riddle or bit of prose Michael has to untangle to even figure out what those conditions are.

Pretentious as fuck about it too like, “blooming under the light of the second full moon of the month as it fights against its celestial confines in a bid to join with the Earth, shining red as blood” or some bullshit like that he has to explain to someone to see if they have it in stock.

If he’s lucky one of his contacts for that kind of thing will know a place that might carry said ingredient or know how to get it for him.

Take this little shop hidden away between a used bookstore and a trendy hipster coffee shop in what used to be a bustling strip mall. Renovated after who knows many years and shuttered businesses thanks to a changing city and economic ups and downs. The whole thing’s been turned into one of those outside malls and that’s bouncing back.

Michael goes past it almost every on his way for one job or another. He’s sure it wasn’t here a yesterday afternoon taking up space in what used to be an ice cream place, but shops like this tend to have what he needs.

There’s a bell over the door that rings when he walks in, something off about them that has him glancing upwards -

“Oh, a customer, how lovely!” someone says, pulling Michael’s attention from the bell towards the guy behind the counter.

Tall, broad-shouldered and against what Michael's used to seeing in shops like these he’s wearing a graphic print t-shirt and a hoodie. What looks like a pair of jeans and while Michael can’t see his shoes from here, he’s betting on sneakers or something similar. (Maybe.)

The counter he’s standing behind is the same one Michael remembers when he used to stop by when it was still an ice cream shop. Refrigerated glass cases and everything else, which.

It gives him pause for a moment, wondering if he stepped into the coffee shop instead, but there’s no smell of coffee or a single hipster to be found. No poor beleaguered college student bemoaning their life choices in the middle of exams or soccer mom on her phone chattering to her friend about the latest neighborhood scandal.

There is, however, a cat.

An orange tabby curled up in a cat bed at the end of the counter watching Michael curiously, little purple collar with a bell around its neck.

Something just slightly off about it in the same way the bells over the door that tells Michael he is in the right place after all.

The shelves along the walls where the booths and tables used to be are full of little glass bottles and vials filled with dried plants and flowers and things Michael tries not to think to hard about sometimes.

A skull or two that seem to be decoration and not for sale. An actual skeleton in a corner that is for sale, and the shop itself smells like Geoff’s workshop.

Candle wax and incense. The lingering scent of the potions he and Jack brew to sell. Flowers and herbs and other things hanging up to dry.

When Michael looks back at the guy behind the counter he’s smiling at Michael in this deeply unsettling manner, which is another sign he’s in the right place.

All I’ve seen things your puny mortal mind cannot hope to comprehend and foolish mortal, dealing in things you don’t yet understand, with a side of step into my parlor which is on the rarer end of the spectrum and something he only sees in the creepier shopkeepers.

So.

It’s going to be one of those days.

“Hey, uh,” Michael says, fumbling for the piece of paper with the list of ingredients and other things he needs as he walks over to the counter.

Some of them are for Gavin, the lazy bastard, and Geoff asked him to pick up some stuff to restock his stores if he got the chance. He promised to pick up a new mortar and pestle for Jack to replace the one Gavin broke last week too.

It might be smarter to go to one of his regular shops for the rest of the things he needs, but he has a busy schedule filled with clients and other errands as it is. Doesn’t feel like driving to the other end of the city on top of everything else.

“I have a few things to get, and one of them is hard to find. I saw your shop and thought maybe you could help?”

He hands the guy the paper, watches him read it and sees the slight frown as he hits the part where Michael had to stop and do some research to figure out what the hell the spell was asking him to get.

In hindsight, he should have written his shopping list on a seperate piece of paper, but he was too fucking irritated at the time to bother. (Took him a goddamned week buried in Geoff and Jack’s extensive library of spellbooks and other bullshit before he found his answer.

“Oh, wow,” the guy says, looking up at him. “That’s an incredibly rare ingredient.”

Yeah, Michael kind of figured, what with the very specific circumstances it needs to grow.

“It’s for a spell,” Michael says, decides it’s really none of the guy’s business what the spell is for, because hey.

Not to be rude?

But yeah, none of his business.

The guy hums, giving Michael this look Michael's also familiar with in places like this.

The last time situations were right for that ingredient to grow was about a year ago, and the time before that was over a hundred and fifty years. The chances of finding someone who has it or knows where Michael could find someone who does are – no pun intended – astronomical.

If this guy doesn’t have it and Michael can’t find it anywhere else, he’d have to wait at least that long before it grows again, maybe longer. (At which point Michael will be super dead and it won’t matter, so there’s that.)

“Yes, I will warn you...every item comes with a price,” he says, like all the other assholes before him Michael’s run into in shops like this.

Michael stares at him.

“...Yes,” he mimics, because he’s not in the mood for this bullshit. “I know how shops work.”

He’s not in the mood for this bullshit, but he’s also not an idiot. Knows better than to piss someone like him off, make an enemy of him or whatever. (Well, for the most part.)

The guy blinks at him like he’s not sure what’s going on, or just thinks Michael's an idiot.

He rallies quickly though, clearing his throat and looking around like there’s anyone else in the shop watching them. (Besides the cat, that is.)

“No,” he says, putting more emphasis into his words. “The price may be more than you expect to pay.”

He gives Michael this look, raised eyebrows and please tell me you’re not that dense and dear God, please don’t be that dense and a little why are you doing this to me?

Michael doesn’t know why he does it, he really doesn’t.

Maybe it’s the fact the guy seems relatively normal for someone running a shop like this. Maybe it’s the fact he’s already getting riled up and Michael hasn’t done anything yet. Maybe it’s the fact that Michael’s that much of an asshole, who can say.

“Yes,” he says. “I know how US taxes work too.”

There’s a tiny sneeze, this little jingling chime that has Michael looking over at the tabby just in time to see it hide a smirk as it gives itself a little shake.

From the corner of his eye Michael catches the shopkeeper shooting it a scowl, but when he turns back to him the guy has a polite smile on his face.

Too polite, like he’s not thinking up curses and hexes to place on Michael and everyone he holds dear or whatever else creepy bastards like him do for fun.

Michael should be worried. Shouldn’t be fucking with him at all, but he just. Can’t not, for whatever reason. Is, in fact, enjoying himself watching the poor guy try to keep his cool while his stupid cat laughs at him.

The guy laughs, and it’s. It’s a nice sound. Weird, too, kind of croaky in a way?

But just.

Nice?

Like his voice, and those eyes of his, and okay, look.

Michael’s getting sidetracked, but it’s been a long week and bound to be a long day and he’s just.

Yeah.

The guy makes this noise in the back of his throat, and plants his hands on the counter in front of him, strained smile on his face.

“I’m trying to tell you that I’m evil and offering these wares with no regard for the harm they will do!” he says, voice cracking on the end because apparently he’s never had to deal with something as exasperating as Michael's proving to be.

Probably used to people showing him the proper reverence and whatever the hell after his first warning. Rethinking their decision to set foot in a magically (literally) appearing shop with a creepy shopkeeper and a cat that is definitely not a normal cat and all that. Making the right choice (or not) when it came to their reason for walking in when they should have known better and just. All that.

Instead, he got Michael and his low tolerance for bullshit of any kind, but especially the shopkeeper’s after the week he’s had.

Michael crosses his arms and scowls at the shopkeeper.

Normally at this point he’d be sharing the guy’s exasperation, but he’s having too much fun fucking with him.

“I know what capitalism is too, goddammit,” he says. “Now do you have the stuff I need or not?”

The guy stares at him, quietly seething and for a moment Michael sees something moving around in the back of his eyes – dark, sinister – before it gives the fuck up and rolls over. Shoulders slumping as he lowers his head to stare at the faux granite counter with its scuffs and scratches, little nicks.

Mutters something that sounds less like a dread curse or something along those lines and more like for fuck’s sake.

Michael glances over at a light chiming noise to see the tabby walking over to the shopkeeper, trilling softly as it bumps its head against his face, makes these little noises that definitely isn’t laughter.

Really.

The shopkeeper leans into it at first, and then sputters as the tabby continues walking arching its back to shove its fur into his face before hopping down and wandering off.

“Thank you,” the guy says, wiping fur out of his mouth as he scowls at the cat. “Really, no. Thank you ever so much for that.”

The cat shakes itself again, and meows in smug satisfaction.

The guys sighs, and looks up at Michael.

Seems wary, almost.

“As a matter of fact, I do happen to have the things on your list. If you don’t mind waiting, I can get them out of the back.”

He looks like he’s expecting Michael to give him more grief about things, which is both hilarious and kind of sad.

“Sounds great!” Michael says with a smile, all nice and friendly and perfect customer who would never dream of being difficult.

The guy eyes him, like he thinks it’s a trap of some kind. But when Michael just stands there smiling at him and waiting patiently, he shakes his head and heads off to the back storeroom muttering to himself.

Michael waits until he’s out of sight before he laughs, tries to hide it because the tabby’s watching him, but come the fuck on.

He doesn’t know how long it will take the guy to gather all the supplies on Michael's list, so he explores the shop. Looks into the glass cases around the counter to see they’ve been altered. No tubs of ice cream now, just neatly labeled bin full of spell and potion ingredients.

One of the cases is humming quietly, stocked with ingredients that require refrigeration to keep them fresh, which goes a long way to explain why the guy decided to put his shop here instead of the other empty stores around it.

Michael goes over to the bookshelves, and almost trips over the cat who lets out a sad little noise that has Michael staring down at it.

Looks like a normal cat in all the right ways, but the way its been acting is a dead giveaway it’s most likely the shopkeeper’s familiar or assistant. Too much of an asshole to be anything else, given it’s allowed to roam the shop freely.

Another sad cry and Michael rolls his eyes as he crouches to give it pets and scritches. God knows Gavin and Lindsay would find out somehow if he didn’t, give him shit about a cruel and heartless monster.

There’s a little pet tag on its collar, and curious, Michael catches it in his fingers to see what it says. The tabby flicks its ears but allows it, and Michael frowns at the name engraved on the pet tag.

“The fuck kind of name is ‘Rimmy Tim’?” he asks, because fucking really.

The cat gives him this look, ears swiveling back as it steps out of his reach with this little sniff, tag slipping through Michael's fingers.

Walks away in clear dismissal and jumps back up on the counter to curl up in its bed and turning its back to Michael as it does.

Michael sighs, because the cat has to be the shopkeepers familiar with that kind of attitude.

He goes back to exploring the store, making a mental note to ask the others if they need some of the things he sees being sold here when he gets home. (Assuming he can find the shop again after this, that is.)

There’s a wide array of rare and hard to find ingredients and other components here. A shelf of books he knows for sure Geoff and Jack would give a lot to add to their own collection. Other bits and bobs, as Gavin would put it, any of them would give a lot to have.

It’s that thought that finally has the reality of the situation sink in for Michael, odd shopkeeper out of the picture where the atmosphere of the shop sets in.

Little tug at the core him drawing him towards a small table in a corner, gem stones and crystals and other things laid out.

A cool whisper in the back of his mind pulling his attention towards one of the skulls on the shelves by the windows.

A raven from the look of it.

Creeping unease from the corner where the skeleton stands on display, runes carved into its bones and a wreath of dried flowers resting on top of its skull.

A dozen other little things calling for his attention, quiet whispers and murmuring that builds, and builds, and builds -

“I think I have everything here,” the guy says, voice startlingly loud in the cloying silence of the shop. “Do you - “

Michael looks over at him, heart beating double-time in his chest. Feels a little wild-eyed and expects to see a smug look on the guy’s face, or cool satisfaction at the way his shop and its wares have affected Michael, but.

He seems...confused at first, and then concerned.

Sweeps a look around the shop and the chaos in Michael's mind quiets, retreats like morning fog when the sun appears to chase it away.

Michael sways towards him without conscious thought, crosses the few feet to stand across from him to escape the faint chill that set in without his realization.

“You know better,” the guy says, and for a moment Michael thinks he’s scolding him, but then he realizes the shopkeeper’s frowning at the tabby.

In response the tabby curls up tighter in its bed, ears flat against its skull and lets out a pathetic mew in apology or explanation, Michael can’t understand it. Just knows whatever it is has the guy letting out a heavy sigh.

“Yes, well,” he says, setting a box down on the counter. “What do you expect when you insist on using that ridiculous name?”

The tabby makes an annoyed noise, but it gets out of its bed and comes to the edge of the counter where Michael’s standing and looks up at him.

Guilty, remorseful, tail flicking as it meows at him in apology.

Michael stares down at it.

He could, maybe should, be annoyed at it for that slip.

There’s an understanding, when customers enter a shop like this things like that aren’t allowed to happen.

A gesture of trust, or something close enough to it for certain transactions to take place. For those who are inexperienced enough, unwary, to enter and leave without trouble. (In good faith.)

But.

Michael insulted it, and things like that allows things like it an amount of leeway. (Loopholes.)

And to be fair, nothing permanent, damaging, took place while the guy was out of the room.

Just...a reminder.

One that Michael clearly needed because he let his guard down in here. Got so caught up in things that he forgot the danger to places like this, or made the mistake of underestimating it because the guy seemed so normal.

Human.

Dramatic, maybe, but not like the usual sort Michael’s met in shops like this.

Michael looks at the guy, surprised that he seems to be on Michael’s side in this after all the shit he gave him earlier. The guy tips his head to the side, eyebrow raised and leaving things in Michael’s hands.

Which.

“It’s fine,” Michael says, because things could have gone worse.

He’s seen it before, less scrupulous shopkeepers than this one and his familiar and their deals with the unwise. Has had to clean up the mess afterward and inform the unfortunate victim’s family and friends who hired him to find out what happened to their loved one.

Michael should be the one who knew better in this case.

“Just a miscommunication.”

The guy hums, something thoughtful to it as he reaches out to the tabby and gives it a scritch under its chin. It leans in to his touch in relief, eyes closing briefly before it decides its had enough and hops off the counter to disappear into the storeroom.

Michael snorts, eyeing the box the guy brought out with him.

“Oh,” the guy says, almost sounding sheepish, “sorry about that.”

He holds Michael's list in one hand as he goes over the contents of the box.

Glass bottles with the ingredients Gavin and Geoff wanted and little paper parcels for the rest. The replacement mortar and pestle Jack wanted, and most importantly the stupidly rare ingredient he needs for his spell.

When he’s done he hands Michael his list and smiles at him.

A normal smile.

No creepy shopkeeper with his mysterious shop and even more mysterious wares. Cat familiar and all kinds of secrets waiting to be discovered, for a price.

“Were you looking for anything else today?”

He’s still smiling.

None of his dramatics or theatrics, just a guy in a t-shirt with the NASA logo behind the counter of his little shop and it’s.

It’s certainly something.

“Uh,” Michael says, clearing his throat and giving himself a mental shake to let everything settle back into place. “No. No, that should do it.”

The guy shrugs and starts ringing him up using the cash register, pauses before he hits the total and smiles again, this crooked little thing.

“We don’t take checks,” he says.

There’s.

He’s the one laughing at Michael now, gleam in his eye and very, very much an asshole.

Michael snorts as he pulls his wallet out.

“Credit card alright?” he asks.

The shops he regularly go to have started to accept them, though most still prefer cash Older ones will trade in favors, little ones that don’t cost much.

Places like this, though?

Hit or miss.

The guy laughs, and points at a sticker on the side the register with logos for the major credit card companies, so that’s one question answered.

Michael hands over his card and the guy finishes ringing him up, wishes him a nice day as he hands him back his card and a receipt and Michael picks up the box, ant turns to leave.

Gets a few feet away before he stops. Thinks about things in the kind of way where he really, really doesn't, and turns back to see the guy watching him with that crooked little smile on his face.

“Are,” Michael starts, not sure how to do this because wow, no. “Uh. Are you going to be here later?”

He glances around the shop and back to the guy, because it’s a valid question with places like this.

People like him.

They come and go and most times you never see them again. For the best, considering what they are, but sometimes...

The guy gives him an odd look, which is fair.

He probably doesn’t get questions like that all that often, and Michael doesn’t even know his name.

Has been referring to him as the guy and the shopkeeper in his head this whole time. (Maybe that asshole a time or two, he wouldn’t put it past himself.)

Michael watches as the guy – Jesus, there he goes again – takes in his shop before looking back at Michael.

“It’s possible,” he says slowly. “The location seems pleasant enough.”

Not a no, or even some frustratingly vague and cryptic answer about fleeting permanence or what the fuck ever Michael was expecting.

“Okay,” Michael says. “Great. Thank you.”

Jesus, he’s an idiot.

The guy must think so too, with the smile on his face, but thankfully he says nothing as Michael gets the hell out of there before he says or does anything else stupid.

Doesn’t risk glancing back to make sure the shop is still there once he’s outside, but he catches sight of the coffee shop sign next door to as he heads to his car.

Michael’s never been to it before, no time or reason to in between everything else going on in his life.

But…there’s this half-formed thought in the back of his mind maybe the guy wouldn’t be horrifically opposed to checking it out with him sometime if he and his shop do stick around a little longer.

...Or something, fuck if Michael knows.

Michael slams the trunk of his car harder than he means to, and stares at it for a long moment trying to untangle his thoughts.

Ridiculous, is what they are.

Stupid as hell.

Dangerous, too, considering what the guy is. (Might be? Michael doesn’t have a goddamned clue other than the usual.)

But.

He hadn’t reacted badly when Michael gave him shit, and.

He’s unfairly attractive. Has a nice smile, and an amazing voice and why not, really?

Can’t hurt to ask, right?

Later.

Michael sighs, laughing at himself as he goes around to the driver side of the car.

No need to get ahead himself right now anyway.

If the shop’s still here after he’s done with work, he can figure things out then.

Start by getting the guy’s name so he can stop calling him that in his head, and see where things go from there.

[deepbluexsea]

Family

Rating: PG-13. Relationships: Jonathan/Ben (past). Recurring Characters: Johnny, Virginia, Geoff (mentioned), Joan, Ben (mentioned). Warning/Notes: Reference to violence against LGBTQ+ individuals. Disinterested/hands-off parents.

SPRING 1990.

“I’m going alone?”

The sleek black and orange credit card was placed in Johnny’s hand as a response. They only used it for big purchases. His dad (who worked in Risk at the New York Stock Exchange) insisted that it was about to become the way of the future, used for such small sales as dinner, but for now it was only for the things that would build their solvency.

Seventeen years old and Johnny had never held it in his entire life.

“I’m going alone with this?” he asked, just to be 110% sure. 

It took a few moments, but his mother finally replied without looking up from her paperwork. “Be sure to get her a corsage,” she murmured, referring to his best friend Joan, “It needs to match your boutonniere.”

Johnny shifted on his feet, not even really sure where to start looking for either of those items, but when he opened his mouth to actually say so his mother waved him off with a pen in her hand. So that was that.

ONE HOUR LATER.

Saturday afternoons on the streets of NYC were easily ten times worse than a school day. They were made infinitely more crowded because it was prom season – which, mostly due to the level of celebration the event received in this area, might as well have been every teenage girl’s first wedding. 

Shoving his way through throngs of people who drug their feet to window shop, Johnny was just determined to find one single store that could give him everything he needed. That mission was frequently deterred by flocks of girls with their noses to storefront glass, hemming and hawing over long pink trains and mountains of silk that their fathers would end up buying even though they’d only wear the dress for five hours tops.

When he finally maneuvered his way into Enzo’s, it was a lot less loud. There were a few peppy mother-and-daughter duos trying to match dresses to vests, but nothing like the mayhem he’d endured outside. Considering it was primarily a tux shop, it was mostly just men looking… well, lost, so he would fit right in. Without any idea where to begin amongst the dozens of racks of suits and pants and patterned socks, Johnny busied himself with thumbing through the ties.

On the other side of the store behind a display full of shoes were two older guys, one of them straightening the other’s jacket that he was trying on. It was clear that they were trying to be concealed from the public despite that there was nothing inappropriate going on, but Johnny could still see them from their reflection in the mirror. Despite that they obviously wanted their privacy, he couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances while pretending to be absorbed in his task. What were they doing?

They shared a smile, a chaste brush of wedding ring-adorned fingers. The one with the blazer on held up a swatch of color next to the other’s eyes. They were keeping it discrete, but it would’ve been apparent to anyone who actually took the time to observe them that they were in love.

There had been a lot of advances this year for those who identified as gay. San Diego, California, had prohibited employment discrimination based on sexual orientation. The U.S. Court of Appeals ruled that the federal government couldn’t deny security clearances based on sexual orientation. Queer Nation had literally just been founded in New York City. Still, headlines such as “Gay Protest on Targeted Attacks Becomes Violent” and “Richard Johnson, Gay Man, Gang Bashed to Death” still made the front of the papers. 

There was no questioning why the couple shifted two feet apart when Johnny entered their space to get fitted for his suit. It didn’t matter, though. The look he’d caught in their eyes when they thought no one was watching gave him courage… hope. The three of them were all in different stages of the same ensemble as they took turns going up to the large mirror outside the private dressing rooms. Johnny did his best to pay attention when the tailor started measuring him, but it was difficult when one of the man’s hands was lingering on the other’s lower back. 

He couldn’t help the blush that rose on his features. The two were like a movie to him – a dream, something he didn’t get to see in real life very often. 

It was getting more burdensome by the day to hide this part of himself. He just wanted to be authentic, to be who he was at summer camp only all year long. Johnny often felt resentful when he thought about how he had to hide it, but looking at this couple made him decide that he might just call up Ben, his secret on-again off-again boyfriend, and ask him to come to prom (even though Joan had already asked him). He lived a few hours away, but just the mere thought made Johnny more excited about the whole milestone than he’d been in months. 

He purchased the only suit he tried on and hightailed it home with a light in his eyes. It was time to tell his parents that he was gay and he knew it. The fear that usually manifested when he thought about it was replaced with drive. Motivation. However, he knew he had to move quickly because this spike of bravery could be extremely short-lived.

“Mom?” he called as he entered the house, the word echoing throughout the square footage they had absolutely no reason for considering there were only three of them. Silence was his only answer, so he went back to her office where he’d left her this morning. 

There she sat, paperwork stacked higher than her teased hair. “Hey, mom? Can we talk?” he asked, voice cracking on the last syllable. Ah, there they were: the nerves.

“Did you find a suit?” his mother replied, still staring at the court document in her hands. 

“Um… yeah. But I… I have something important to say,” he said warily, walking a little closer so that he was in her field of vision. “Mom, I don’t want to go to prom with Joan.”

Virginia clicked her tongue in response, but he was pretty sure it had to do more with what she was reading than what he’d said.

“Mom?”

“Okay. Did you bring the credit card back?”

“...did you hear what I said?”

Looking up at him over her glasses, she half-sat the paper down, eyebrows furrowed. That was a definitive no.

“I said I don’t want to take Joan to prom,” he repeated, handing her the credit card so that he could keep her engaged in what he was saying.

“What?” she asked passively, then swiveled back around to face away from him in her office chair. “Well then who, John?”

Here it was. The moment. Johnny swallowed hard, taking a deep breath and wringing his hands. “Um... my friend, Ben.”

Nothing. His mind made up a dozen reasons why she wasn’t speaking, all of them going something like, ‘Get away from me. That’s disgusting. I can’t even look at you.’

But a few beats went by and she still hadn’t so much as made a sound.

Rage and anxiety boiled inside of him and soon spilled over. “Mom?!” he yelled.

“What?” she asked, sounding surprised, and turned her head slightly to glance at him before looking back at her work. “Johnny, I’m sorry, I’m just very busy right now. Can we talk about prom later?”

Whatever emotions had been swirling around inside of him stopped abruptly, landing flat at the bottom of his stomach. He felt his face fall. Without bothering to respond, he left the room.

She never brought the topic back up. And Johnny didn’t even try.

Two months later, he went to prom with Joan. But it wasn’t all bad. She stood guard in front of the boys’ bathroom while he made out with Michael Fisher, then he danced to whatever songs she wanted him to for the rest of the night.

Joan was the only person who’d ever bothered to listen to him – about the small things and the big ones – and she never judged. For all intents and purposes, she was his sister. 

Joan Lourd was Johnny’s family.

[lesbianfreyja]

80 + macden 👀

80. You owe me.

-

“I’m not doing this. I don’twant to do this,” Mac insisted. His head tipped back, looking up at the sign hungabove the entrance to the building before them.

“You’re doing it,” said Dennisfirmly.

Mac felt Dennis’s knucklesbrush against his a few times before Dennis fumblingly caught his hand and squeezed.Mac snorted and rolled his head to the side to look at him, watching Dennisgrin back.

“We can’t afford it, Dennis,” he complained. “We paid rent late twice thisyear already. Last time we did date night, you took me to Denny’s!”

“Here’s the thing, baby boy.”Dennis moved in front of him, patting his chest. His fingers curled into thefront of Mac’s shirt. “Last year, you got me a bag of salt and vinegar chips formy birthday, and the year before that you forgot it completely.”

“I didn’t forget,” Mac interrupted.“I gave you that blowjob!”

“That was because you’d spentfour hours watching a Ryan Reynolds marathon that afternoon and you felt guiltyfor calling me the wrong name in bed,” said Dennis. “You didn’t even know you’dmissed it until the next day.”

Mac shifted around, his eyesrolling.

“Den…”

“So, this year, I’m picking outexactly what I want and all you have to do is swipe the card.” Dennis slung anarm around his shoulders. “You owe me.”

Mac sighed. “Fine, man. Whatever.But if one of them tries to scratch me like it did last time I’ll never forgiveyou.”

“You like cats,” Dennisreminded him. “It was one feral cat one time. Come on.”

He took Mac’s hand again andstarted pulling on him, and reluctantly Mac followed his boyfriend inside. A bellabove the door tinkled when they came in, and several animals in cages nearbylooked up eagerly at them, wagging their tails.

“Hi!” a saleswoman popped up togrin sunnily at them. “How can I—”

“Oh, Mac! Look at this one!”

Dennis pulled Mac around thegirl and released his hand to drop down to his haunches. He stuck his fingersthrough the slats in the cage, and the kitten inside slunk as far away from himas it could.

“Black cats are bad luck, dude,”said Mac. “Every time it runs by you, it means a witch is cursing God in yourhonor! I don’t wanna be cursed that much, bro.”

Dennis twisted around to lookup at him. “You don’t really believe in witches, do you?”

“It’s true! That’s a straightup fact!”

Dennis snorted softly, shakinghis head as he turned back to the cat. Even though he’d been waggling hisfingers through the cage at it, slow and hypnotic in an attempt to coax itcloser, it stayed trembling as far away from him as it could. Grunting, Dennispulled his hand away from the black cat and straightened up.

“Whatever,” said Dennis. “Youwere an ugly little bitch anyway.”

Mac trailed after him as he meanderedfurther down the same aisle.

“Maybe we could look at thedogs?” Mac suggested, eyes widening hopefully. “If we have to get a pet, a dogwould be way more badass—”

“Don’t even try it,” Dennis saiddryly, shooting Mac a look over his shoulder. “It’s my birthday. And I want a cat.”

Mac sighed. Dennis wandered pastmore cages, dismissing the animals inside as being too scrawny, too big, toobitchy-looking, not enthusiastic enough about him jamming his hand in their cage.They walked up and down a few more aisles, with Dennis rejecting every single catthat they saw. They were only a few cages left, filling Mac up with dread thatthis errand was about to extend well into the afternoon if they had to drive togo look at another pet shop.

Dennis frowned at a fat brownone who kept swiping at his hand. Mac’s eyes drifted away from his millionthpainful rejection, scanning the surrounding cages absently.

“Holy shit!” Mac shouted out. Hedarted past a few more cages and dropped hard to his knees on the floor. Heshoved his face in close to the bars of this cat’s enclosure. Instead ofrearing back, it stayed nibbling at its food bowl. “Dennis, look at him! He’s socool!”

He heard Dennis trailing afterhim and felt him settle just behind him to the side. When he glanced upeagerly, Dennis had his arms crossed and he was frowning down at Mac on the ground.

“What are you talking about, Mac?It’s just a—” Dennis picked at the nametag hung on the cage, squinting at thedescription. “—Mac, it’s just a stupid tabby cat. They’re like, everywhere.Charlie’s got about five that follow him from his building to the bar.”

“But he’s so orange!”

Mac’s face scrunched up in aweand he leaned back in close to the cat’s cage. It finally stopped eating longenough to acknowledge him, and it slinked closer, sniffing the air tentatively.Mac pressed his face right up near to the bars and it flinched back at first,minutely, at his sudden movement forward. After a second it padded closer againand ducked toward the side of the cage too. It pushed its snout near Mac’s noseand sniffed again. Mac laughed. When he looked up, a faint smile was tugging onthe edge of Dennis’s mouth. Mac grinned and stood up.

“He’s so cute, Dennis!” hesaid. “We have to get him! Can I hold him?”

Mac whipped around to look fora sales associate. Dennis spotted one first and flagged them over.

“This one’s a girl, bro,” saidDennis.

“No way. It’s way too cool-looking.Look how orange he is!”

“Yeah, she’s really orange.” Dennisrolled his eyes. “But look, dude, the tag says right here that her name is Chloe.”

Chloe lookedup at them both through the top of her cage, tilting her head. Behind them, someonecleared their throat and they both turned around to look at the girl from earlierstanding behind them.

“Hey there,” she said. “Youlike—”

“I wanna hold this one,” saidMac, pointing at Chloe.

“It’s my cat,” Dennis snapped, stepping in front of Mac. “She’s for me. Potentially. If we decide to gether.”

Mac leaned against Dennis’sback to get closer to the salesgirl.

“Whatever. Just take her out!”

The salesgirl stepped aroundthem to undo Chloe’s cage.

“Be careful,” she said, easingChloe up out of it. “She doesn’t usually like men.”

She handed the cat off toDennis, after he won the shoving fight between him and Mac to hold her first.Dennis was surprisingly still, and quiet, as he gathered her up in his arms. Shewas tense at first, but when Dennis stroked a hand down her back she started torelax.

“Wow,” said the girl. “I’m surprised,she generally doesn’t trust—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dennis interrupted.“We’re done with you. You can go now.”

“I — can’t just leave you herewith an animal unattended,” said the girl, uncertainly. “Um, I’ll stand overhere while you make a decision.”

She moved a little way away to watchthem from over by some fish tanks. Mac shuffled in closer to Dennis, reachingup to scratch at Chloe’s ears. Her eyes closed, and she nudged into Mac’s hand.

“She likes us!” Dennis said, lookingup to grin at him.

“It’s probably because we’regay, dude,” said Mac, moving to rub her under her chin. “She can sense that we’renon-threatening.”

“That’s not a — you know what, sure,”said Dennis. He knocked Mac’s hand out of the way so he could lift her up andlook her in the eyes. She blinked slowly at him. With one paw, she reached outlike she was going to touch him on the shoulder — then instead she brought herarm down and smacked Dennis in the face.

Mac doubled over laughing.

“Bitch,” Dennis gasped softly,but he brought her back to his chest and kept running his fingers down her backanyway.

“Oh, my God, dude! She’s perfect!”Mac said. “Dennis, bro, we have to get her! Look at her, she’s so cute…She’s alreadycopying me, we have to take her home. She’s…what’s the word? She’s imprintingon us!”

“Cats don’t do that,” Dennissaid. He still sounded a little annoyed but he tucked Chloe under his chin andhugged her closer.

“Yeah, they totally do!” Macinsisted. He reached out to pet her side, dancing around where Dennis’s arm wastucked beneath her.

“You’re thinking of ducks.”

“Ducks do it too. It’s a thingthat like, any small mammal does. Trust me, that’s science.”

“It is absolutely not,” said Dennis.“So what? You think that big dogs don’t imprint on people but little ones do?”

“Of course not, Dennis,” Macsaid, rolling his eyes. “That would be stupid! If they have the potential to become big, then they can’timprint. Duh. It’s a gene some animals have, bro, trust me.”

Dennis thought this over as heput Chloe back in her cage and the salesgirl brought them up to the counter tostart filling out adoption paperwork. They would need an interview-type meetingfirst, apparently, to bring them up to speed on Chloe’s background and historyand make sure they had the means of providing for her. Institutions were sostupid. Mac wanted to bring her back now but the saleswoman said it was literallyimpossible, even when he argued and got loud. Bitch.

“Lions,” said Dennis as theywere walking back to the car. He snapped his fingers in the air like he’d justsolved an impossible riddle.

“What?” Mac turned to look athim. “What are you talking about?”

“Lions are like big cats. So byyour own theory, cats can’t imprint.”

He smiled proudly.

“No, you’re getting confused,”said Mac, shaking his head. He pulled open the passenger side door to the carand climbed in. “Lions are just relativesof cats. One of the genes that makes them super big and gives them a mane alsomakes it so they can’t imprint. They’re different.”

Dennis rolled his eyes.

“Let’s just go buy stuff fordinner,” he said, twisting the key into the ignition.

They got to bring Chloe home aweek after they met her. Dennis had gone all out and bought her a bed andlitter box and several large bags of food from Walmart already, but Mac hadgone back to the pet store to pick up things for her to play with. Annoyingly,she avoided all of Mac’s super cool food-shaped toys to gnaw on the edge of thepillow they had sat her on so she could lay between them on the couch.

Dennis was obsessed with her,wouldn’t stop nudging her ears and stroking her back while she ignored him tokeep chewing on their pillow.

“I guess it’s okay that she’s agirl,” said Mac, frowning at her. “At least her color is still badass.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Dennis cooedat the kitten. “He’s just jealous that you like me more than you like him.”

“We should still call her somethingcool, though,” said Mac. “Hey! Remember how you promised to name your firstbornkid Murphy? After I died, remember?”

Dennis finally looked away fromthe cat to glare at him.

“No fucking way, Mac,” he said.“We are not naming her after Robocop. She’s sweet, we should name her somethingsmaller—”

“You promised!”

“When you actually die forreal, I’ll change her name to Murphy. Okay?” said Dennis. “Until you’re in theground I don’t have to do jack shit that was on your little list of funeraldemands.”

“But you’re—”

They were interrupted by a loud,plaintive meow coming from betweenthem. Mac glanced down at her, but Dennis was already lashing out to scoop herup in his arms. He petted at her head, pulling her into his chest and turning awayfrom Mac like he was trying to hide her from him. Mac made an irritated noise,trying to swipe out around Dennis to pet her again.

“I won’t let him name you Murphy,”Dennis promised.

“Well, we have to change it tosomething because Chloe was the name of the bitch who pushed me off a swingsetin fifth grade!” said Mac. He brought his fist down hard on his thigh. “We saidwe’d be cat dads together, Dennis.You don’t get to hog her.”

Dennis sighed. He lowered thecat onto his lap, where she promptly started kneading at him until he wassuitably comfortable enough for her to curl up on and go to sleep. Dennislooked up at Mac, smug.

“Why don’t you go scoop hersome food?” Dennis suggested. He gestured down at her. “I can’t move.”

Grumbling, Mac pushed himselfoff the couch to deal with her dinner. While he worked, he tried to come upwith a better name for her, but everything cool that he liked was a dude’s name.It wasn’t his fault that women were never in any good movies.

“What about Anne,” he said suddenly,spinning around with a finger in the air.

Dennis wasn’t listening to him.Dennis was bent over, rubbing at the cat’s stomach and murmuring something intoher ears. Mac softened, watching them for a minute or two. Eventually he turnedaround to keep scooping her some dinner. He guessed they could fight about what to name hersome other time.

DISCLAIMER! i clearly knownothing about cats or pet shops lol so that’s all creative liberty at work. i mean, i skimmed the pet smart website on adoption. and my friends have cats. also, adopt don’t shop x

[chain-unchained]

June 27

After a nearly three mile walk from the nearest functioning bus stop, an exhausted Shane finally returned to Pelican town; it was Friday, the day he and his therapist in Zuzu City had set for their weekly sessions. The trip wouldn’t be quite so bad if the bus that old Pam used to drive still worked, but it had broken down some years ago and the town didn’t have the resources to get it fixed, so that unfortunately meant quite a walk to get to a bus that did work. 

It still felt awkward and kind of shameful for him to walk into that office, even though the staff there were all very friendly and understanding—not to mention the therapist, who was quiet, unassuming, gentle but firm in his suggestions to Shane to help his recovery, both from the alcoholism and the depression, along.

Shane had always known that it was going to be hell, giving up alcohol cold turkey like he was; at first, the therapist had suggested weaning, but Shane knew himself well enough that he wouldn’t be able to help himself if he had even a drop of drink and insisted on cutting it off completely. Even then, he couldn’t have fathomed the toll it would take on his body, mind and mood—the first few days were the most hellish. He had the shakes, a piercing migraine that wouldn’t go away no matter how many aspirin he took, he was physically ill several times, and sleep was a far-fetched concept.

He felt really bad for Jas and Marnie, who had to deal with all of that and the piss-poor attitude that it brought with it, though he played it all off as just a severe flu bug. Maybe it was stupid, maybe he could have really used the support during the beginning, but he wanted to get through the worst of it of his own willpower.

Today was the first day that he hadn’t woken up feeling like absolute shit. In fact, he almost dared to say that it was manageable; his head didn’t feel like it was splitting open, and it didn’t take him an hour to muster up the strength to get up out of bed. He had managed to make an actual breakfast with the extra eggs that Charlie and the girls laid for them that morning. And hell, the walk to the bus station that morning actually left him feeling pretty damn good, even though the trip from it back to town that evening felt a bit less so. Having had one of the better days he’d had in a long time, Shane decided that today was a good day to tell Marnie and Jas what was going on.

Adjusting the shopping bag that he held in his hand, he tucked the other hand into his shorts pocket and strolled leisurely through town; the sun was beginning its descent from the sky, staining the crystal clear sky a fiery orange and red hue. On the way there, he stopped outside Pierre’s and checked the bulletin board on a whim. Sometimes someone would post a note about a free piece of furniture, or Pierre would leave a notice about an upcoming sale. His sales never reached the 50% off that Joja regularly offered, but at least Pierre’s stock was quality and worth the higher price.

“... Oh, that’s right.” Shane murmured to himself as he checked the calendar that hung next to the bulletin board. “The Luau’s coming up soon… Need to dig out those stretchy shorts and get them washed soon.” Next to the Egg Festival, the Luau was probably his favorite festival—it was a festival literally just centered on eating food, what wasn’t there to love about that? ‘Maybe I should give Ashe a heads-up.’ He pondered, turning on his heel and heading south towards the road leading home. Every household was expected to contribute both an ingredient towards the Luau’s main centerpiece, the potluck stew, and a cooked dish, and he didn’t want Ashe to be left in the dark if no one else thought to tell him about that since it was his first year in town.

He owed a lot to the kid, that much was for sure. If Ashe hadn’t been so stubborn and bullheaded about befriending him, there was a real likelihood that Shane wouldn’t be there that day. A real likelihood that he would have rolled right off that cliff like he’d fantasized about. For some reason, Ashe never gave up on him, and he never let Shane give up on himself.

Without realizing it, he was already standing outside the door to the ranch; he’d been so lost in his thoughts that his legs had just carried him to where he needed to go on their own. Pausing to bend down and rub at his knee which had started to ache from the walking, Shane opened the door and stepped inside. “I’m back.” He called as he pushed it closed behind him; as expected, the shop was empty, and he presumed that Marnie and Jas were in the kitchen given the smell of steak that filled the air.

“Oh, welcome home Shane.” Marnie greeted, looking over her shoulder as her nephew came into the kitchen; Jas looked up from her coloring book and waved a little to Shane before going back to her very serious business of perfectly coloring in her favorite princess from the Welwick Court. “Goodness, don’t you look happy?”

“Do I?” Shane moved over to the table and ruffled Jas’ hair lightly, unaware that he’d had a big, goofy grin on his face since he’d walked in; it felt good to be home and not be drunk or hungover. “I guess you’re right. I haven’t felt this light in… Yoba, I don’t even know how long.”

Marnie pulled the last searing steak from the frying pan and stuck it on the baking tray with the rest to go into the oven to finish cooking. “Let me guess…” She pondered, turning to look at Shane fully as she wiped her hands on her apron. “Gus had a clearance sale on canned beer?”

The comment stung a little, Shane couldn’t deny that; he didn’t blame her for thinking that, though. He’d kept her and Jas in the dark up til now, and as far as they knew he’d just gone off to work like he did every Friday. “Hah, good one.” He managed a half laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck, his grin becoming quite sheepish. “No, actually. I’ve been drinking sparkling water instead of beer… and I feel great.”

His words made Marnie freeze, her eyes widening in surprise; even Jas stopped coloring and looked back at Shane with eyes wide. To be honest, their reaction was bittersweet. It felt good to be able to say that to them, but at the same time, he had to realize how badly his behavior had affected them in order to elicit such a reaction. “Really?” His aunt managed to ask after a moment.

“Yeah.” Shane confirmed with a nod of his head. “… Y’know, sometimes I forget that I really do have friends.” He murmured, his face softening as he spoke. “People that care about me. And it’s okay for me to rely on them. It doesn’t make me weak.”

After a moment of silence, Marnie smiled and nodded her head in agreement. “That’s exactly right. I’m proud of you for realizing that.”

“Took me long enough, huh?” Shane turned his attention to Jas as he set the shopping bag on the table for her. “I’ve got something for you, kiddo.”

“Huh?” Jas blinked, looking up to her godfather for affirmation; when Shane nodded encouragingly, she pulled the bag closer and reached inside, pulling out an unassuming, plain looking box. Her little brows knitted together as she lifted the lid, and the contents practically made them fly off of her face as her eyes went wide again. “Th…. These are real bunny-jewel slippers!!!” She squealed. As if to confirm that it wasn’t fake, she ever so carefully lifted the shoes from the box and turned them over in her hands; sure enough, they were the real deal, and they were even her favorite color—purple. “B…. but these are so expensive!” She looked to her godfather in disbelief, feeling somewhat guilty that Shane had dropped so much money on a present just for her. “How did you afford them?”

Shane smiled and patted her head. “I’ve cut back on an expensive habit, so I’ve got a lot more spending money now.” He explained, glad that he was able to finally give her a proper gift—even if it was nearly a month past her birthday.

“…. Okay….” Jas looked back to the shoes, running her fingers over the sparkly tops.

Seeing the change in her demeanor, Shane knelt down to her level so he could speak to her as an equal. “Jas… I’m sorry about what happened before.” He murmured. As difficult as apologizing was, she deserved at least that much. “I said some stuff that really hurt you, and I should never have let you hear that from me.”

Jas froze a little as Shane spoke, going completely silent as she just stared at those twinkly shoes in her hands. “When I said those things… it’s not because I wanted to leave you or hurt you.” He continued, struggling a little with how to explain it in a way she could understand without sugar coating it. “It’s not your fault. I wasn’t feeling well because, uh… my head is sick, and it makes me feel sad and tired a lot… and…” His brain fizzled out, and after a few moments of silence, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, I barely understand it myself. It’s hard to explain… but I’ll tell you about it when you want me to, okay? Right now, I just need you to know that I’m working hard to get better. And it’s okay if you’re sad or scared or mad at me. Take as long as you need to feel how you feel.” He smiled, even though he knew she wasn’t looking. “I’m not going anywhere, squirt. I’m gonna work extra hard to be here for you.”

“….” His words were greeted with just more silence, as Jas’s little frame began to quiver slightly in her chair.

Concerned now by her continued quiet, Shane’s smile faded. “Jas? You okay--?”

Almost before he could finish speaking, Jas suddenly flung herself at him, knocking over her chair as she wrapped her arms around him and let out a heartbreaking wail of relief. She didn’t care if Shane drank, she didn’t care if he didn’t buy her the toys that she wanted—all she ever wanted was to hear him say that he wasn’t going to leave her too.

“Whoa—” Shane was nearly knocked over himself, managing to grab onto the table to steady himself before he folded the sobbing child into his arms. “It’s okay, just let it out.” He murmured with a smile, holding her close as she buried her face into his chest. Of course, he didn’t like to see her cry like that, but at least he knew that they were tears of happiness this time.

As she watched the scene unfold, Marnie couldn’t help but wipe a few tears from her own eyes, smiling as she saw the person that she knew Shane had always been deep down. It meant the world to her that Shane finally saw enough of his own worth to start getting better.  

“Do you want to put on your new slippers?” Shane gently asked Jas, once her sobs had quieted; with a sniffle, she nodded, lifting her face from his now soaked shirt as she did so. He set her on her feet and picked up her chair, waiting for her to sit back down in it before he helped her to put the slippers on. “So, what do you think?”

Jas extended her legs out in front of herself so she could judge them on her feet. “… I love them.” She said with a slight hiccup, unable to stop the happy smile that came onto her face. “And I love you, Shane~ Thank you for getting these for me…”

 Dinner that night was one of the most peaceful they’d had in a long time; Shane actually sat at the table and ate with them, rather than taking his plate into his room like he always did. He reminded Marnie about the Luau, and they talked about an upcoming seminar on livestock regulations that would be held in Zuzu City a few days before the Dance of the Moonlight Jellies.

“I’m not quite sure what to do about that, to be honest.” Marnie admitted as she cleared away their finished plates. “I was going to ask Jodi if she’d be willing to watch Jas while we’re away, but during aerobics on Tuesday she mentioned that she and the boys were going on a family trip to the carnival. And Penny has that class that she’s been looking forward to taking for months now…”

“I don’t need a babysitter, auntie.” Jas pointed out as she finished the coloring job she’d been working tirelessly on all evening. “I’m eight years old now, I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, we don’t doubt that for a minute kiddo.” Shane leaned back in his chair with a smile. “But someone has to keep an eye on you to make sure no one tries to steal you away.” He thought for a moment, rocking back and forth slowly on the back legs of the chair. “… Hey, why don’t we ask Ashe to watch her?” He suggested, looking to his aunt as the idea struck him.

Marnie turned the faucet in the sink on and began to fill the left half to soak the dishes. “You know, the idea did cross my mind.” She admitted, turning around to look at Shane pointedly—she hated when people did that, it was so bad for the chair. “Do you think he would mind?”

“Well we won’t know unless we ask.” Catching the look she was giving, Shane promptly set all four legs back on the floor. “I was going to talk to him about the Luau tomorrow, I’ll run the idea by him then too.”

               “Alright. I’ll leave it to you, then.” Marnie glanced at the clock on the wall. “Alright, little lady. It’s bedtime. Let’s go get a book picked out—”

               “I want Shane to read to me tonight.” Jas insisted emphatically, much to their surprise. “Please?” She pleaded, looking to her godfather with the biggest puppy-dog eyes she could muster.

Momentarily stunned by her request, Shane managed to smile. “Sure, squirt. It’s been a hot minute since I read a book, though, so you might have to help me out.” He got up from his chair, looking to Marnie as Jas took hold of his hand; with a smile, Marnie nodded her head, and Shane led Jas out of the kitchen towards her room.

Neither of them could remember the last time Jas had asked for Shane to put her to bed. It did Marnie’s heart a lot of good to see the two of them bonding again, and she found herself unable to wipe the smile from her face as she washed, dried and put away the dishes. By the time she was done and pouring herself a cup of coffee, Shane returned to the kitchen, reaching around her—“’Scuse me, I’m just going to be rude real quick,” he said with a grin—to get a cup for himself.

“So, how did it go?” She asked, sitting down at the table with a novel of her own to read a little before bed.

“It went fine.” Shane poured what was left into his cup and rinsed the pot under the faucet. “She kept trying to put off going to sleep, though. ‘That story was too short, you gotta read me one more’ and all that jazz.” He took a drink of the bitter brew.

Marnie smiled and took a sip of her own. “… I want you to know I’m real proud of you, Shane.” She said after several moments.

It was something Shane hadn’t expected her to say. “I haven’t done anything worth being proud of yet.” He insisted, setting his cup on the counter. “I’ve still got a lot of work to do before that happens. I didn’t want to say anything until today, but the last few Fridays I’ve been going to see a therapist in Zuzu. I just… wanted to prove to myself that this is something I could do before I got anyone’s hopes up, y’know?”

“So that ‘flu’ you had a few weeks ago wasn’t really the flu, I take it?” Marnie guessed shrewdly, to which Shane held up his hands in surrender. “Normally I don’t appreciate being lied to, but I’ll let it slide this time.” She set her own cup down and opened the book before her. “Does Ashe know?”

“Yeah… to be honest, he’s the main reason I was able to get help in the first place.” Shane admitted with an awkward laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck. “For some reason, he just never gave up on me. I owe him a hell of a lot.”

“It’s real sweet how close the two of you have gotten.” Marnie gave him a warm smile. “I’ve never seen someone melt that heart of yours like he has. You should let him know how you feel at the Moonlight Jellies~”

Her suggestion puzzled Shane, her intent flying right over his head. “The… Moonlight Jellies? Wwwwhy that festival specifically?”

“Because it’d be all the more romantic, of course.” Marnie looked back to her book and turned the page slowly. “Of course, I can understand not wanting to wait that long to get together. I still remember my first romance and how impatient I was… ah, to be young and in love again.”

“Roman—lo—” Shane sputtered, his face turning red as it clicked in his head what she was getting at. “Marnie, come on, you’re reaching here. I appreciate what the kid’s done for me, and… well, maybe there is something there, but I’m way too old for him don’t you think? And that’s not to say that I have no idea if he even thinks of me like that, or if he even swings that way to begin with—”

“Shane, when you live as long as I have and work in a business like this,” Marnie interrupted his protests casually, “you learn to be a real good judge of people. Trust me, you’ve got more of a chance than you think. I just see how well the two of you get on and the side of you that he brings out. Give it some thought.”

Unable to think of what to say to that, Shane quickly finished off his coffee and set the cup in the sink. “I’m going to bed.” He announced as he cleared his throat. “Good night, Marnie.”

“Night, dear.” Marnie waved her fingers at him over her shoulder, hiding a laugh at his quick exit. Even if nothing came of it in the end, she at least wanted to make him aware of his feelings.