#it’s 2 in the morning why in the hell am I cooking ruin art

[vampvannie]

happy birthday ruin I’m still in denial that you’ve turned one year old what the fuck

[elias-code]

Two Left Hooves [2/7] - Choice II

Choose your own adventure ~ “What’s Better than Breakfast in Bed?“

Characters: Technoblade x gn!reader, Philza

Summary: You've asked Techno whether he wants to sleep with you or not, and he makes up some excuse to join you. He cuddles with you into the night, but you're greeted with a nightmare, Dream's voice warns you of something to come, but refuses to specify what. Techno pulls you out of the dream and you sleep undisturbed until he greets you with breakfast in the morning.

Warnings: Cussing, Nightmares

IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE INTRO AND CHOSEN YOUR ROUTE, DO SO HERE: INTRO

— The Bird —

"Techno-" I said, kneeling to his level, "What do you want? I mean, you can sleep with me if you want to."

He paused, expecting a quip, but instead, I'd forced him to choose for himself.

"Seeing as you’re already cold, even with the fire..." He clicked his tongue, testing his words, "I want to keep you warm."

Holy shit that's adorable, I thought. Techno never let emotions shine through his words. When I talked to him, I had to constantly read between the lines. His monotone speech was, I supposed, a product of his repressed emotions. Ever since meeting him, I felt like it was my responsibility to dismantle the fortress he’d put around his heart.

"Excuses, excuses," I teased, “but you’re right, I’m gonna freeze without you.” I smiled at him. He let out a small huff, but his expression was unreadable.

"It's not an excuse, it's a reason," he said, turning to me, "They're desperate for me to be at the banquet, but they won't let me go alone, alright? If I let you freeze to death, it wouldn't make for great PR."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, standing up. I offered a hand to him, to help him stand, "Thank you for not killing me so you don't have to go," I whispered.

"No problem, heh," he took my hand and stood, "I'll be back in a bit, alright?"

"Where are you going?"

"Just downstairs, get ready for bed," He said, dodging the question. He let go of my hand and awkwardly pat me on the head, leaving the room.

I didn't know how the ball was going to work out. On the one hand, Techno would go to the banquet and it'd be as awkward as it's always been between us. On the other, I'd manage to tear down his walls and reveal his emotions, changing our relationship forever.

Techno presented himself as untouchable, calling himself 'the blood god,' but I saw him hold back tears when Tommy betrayed him. I saw the destruction his wrath brought upon L'Manburg. He has compassion, but if he bottled them up any longer, there's no telling who he'd become. He couldn't keep letting everything out as anger, or we'd all pay the price.

I dressed for the night, setting his cape on the back of his chair. I chose a simple shirt and pants, the thickest ones I'd brought with me. I was still cold, but I took the opportunity to inspect his room.

He lives in the attic, a small loft with sparse decoration. What little furniture he did have was extravagant and of the highest quality. His desk chair was made of dark oak wood, the velvet red cushion was well worn. The table matched, a knife was stuck in it, too hard for me to pull out. It was dull, probably used to open letters.

His bed was made, probably just before I got there since it was only roughly put together. Next to it, there was a giant bookshelf pushed against the wall. Most of the books were unmarked and dusty, but a few of them were clean, recently put back. The Art of War, Odyssey, and the Iliad were among them. Their spines were worn and multiple bookmarks were sticking out of the top of each.

"Do you read much?" Techno asked, startling me.

"Um, oh," I stuttered, "I don't know where to get books from, so..."

"No?" He reached over and pulled The Art of War out of the bookshelf.

"I live out in the middle of nowhere," I shrugged, "The only thing I read is my mail."

"That's pretty sad," he said matter-of-factly.

"I have plenty of things to occupy my time with, Technoblade," I crossed my arms.

"Mhm," he handed me the book. Its cover was more worn than its spine, the old leather was cracking at the corners. "Take that home with you, I've read it a thousand times. Might come in handy."

"I suppose I can use it to knock intruders out," I flipped it over. It was like a brick in my hand, heavy and hard enough to break a window. "Thanks."

I yawned, realising how late it's gotten. I left my house almost a full twenty-four hours ago and I rode endlessly until I got here. I was exhausted.

I walked over to my pile of stuff and carefully placed the book in my bag. I then took a bit of a running start and jumped onto the bed, landing in a pile of furs and knitted blankets. "Don't wake me up in the morning," I muttered.

Techno came over and sat on the bed next to me. "I'll try not to," He said.

I shuffled under the blankets and shivered. The furs were enough to keep my body heat in, but I wouldn't tell Techno that. I heard him pick the covers up to join me. Soon, I felt his arms wrap around me, his chest to my back.

My cheeks flushed bright pink and I stifled a giggle. The blood god is snuggling with me... This is not what I thought was going to happen when I joined the server. I smiled and put my hand on his, wrapped around my waist. No one was going to believe this ever happened.

--- The Bird's Dream ---

He’s there, he’s right there. I need to go see him, I need to get there before it’s too late. There are so many people in the way, I’m not going to be there in time to dance. Who are all these people? They whisper about him as if they know him, as if they watch his every step and live in his mind. Left and right, they whisper things about me, about him.

“Did you hear, he’s going to the ball!”

“Oh and with that beautiful bird,”

“If only they knew. Tsk.”

Their eyes were unmoving, fixated on me. I shoved my way through the crowd, suddenly falling into the void.

“Did you really think it was going to be that simple? That you’d just seduce him with the snap of your fingers? He’s not a dog, he can’t be trained. He’s a wild animal. He’s unstable, He’ll break your heart, little bird.” Dream's voice boomed, echoing in my mind.

"Who are you?" I tried to yell, but only air came out.

"I'm the one who whitelisted you, the one who trusted you."

"What does that mean?" I was desperate to stop, to wake up, but I was falling infinitely.

"That's not for you to know, Puppet. You're here because I have a job for you, nothing more. You're the only one that can get through to him."

"What- What's my job? Why am I here?"

"You'll know soon enough-"

--- Technoblade ---

I slept soundly until I felt them stir under me. It sounded like they were having a nightmare, they muttered my name. What the hell are they dreaming about? I pulled them closer, brushing my hand through their hair. I wanted to wake them softly, so they'd forget about whatever was just racing through their mind.

They took a deep breath, signalling their waking. I continued to stroke their hair, "You ok, Bird?"

They mumbled an 'ok' and turned to face me, burying their face in my neck. I did the same and took deep breaths for them to follow. Within minutes, they were asleep in my arms. It felt right.

I didn't have the heart to admit it. If I did, I'd just have to tear it all away again, I'd be the one thing I truly hated. I'd be a traitor.

Don't get attached, Techno. We get to break hearts now, not just crush them! If you name this one, you'll regret it. Nothing screams ruin more than you do.

-

I woke up to birds chirping outside my window. The weather had finally let up, now I could finally get real work done. It took me a couple of seconds to remember the person fast asleep in my arms. A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed it.

Carefully, I picked up the covers and snuck out of bed. I wanted to keep my promise not to wake them up, and so I immediately left the room, avoiding the creaky floorboards as I descended the stairs to the kitchen.

I pulled half a dozen eggs out of their box and cracked and cooked them over the fire, adding the occasional spice so it wasn't too bland. I toasted some bread and stuck it all on separate plates. Four eggs for me, two for them. I was two times their size, after all. The image of them laying on my bed flashed in my mind, making me smile. I shook it off. I couldn't get attached any more than I was now.

I pulled myself together and went back upstairs with the food. I put my plate on my desk, pulling the knife out of it and stashing it in my drawer. I walked over to the bed, placing their food on the nightstand. I reached over and gently pat them on the head, slowly waking them.

"Good morning," I whispered.

They opened their eyes and mumbled "G'morn'n,"

"I made you some eggs," I said, still petting their head, "You should eat them while they're hot,"

"Ok," they sat up and I moved back over to my desk, sitting in my chair.

They yawned and stretched, their shirt raising over their waist, exposing their belly button. I looked away and busied myself with my food.

Oh, look at them, they're so cute... so naive... so vulnerable.

I wanted to scream at the voices to shut up. They had been plaguing me ever since Phil suggested I invite them. For some reason, they had a vendetta against the bird. They wanted to see them suffer to, in turn, make me suffer. The voice's presence itself was enough to turn my hair grey, but this added a whole extra layer to my agony.

"Techno?"

"Hmm?" I didn't look up from my food.

"Did you make me breakfast in bed?"

I looked at them, hiding my embarrassment, "You told me not to wake you, but I was hungry, and I thought you'd like some too."

They blushed and shrugged. "You know me so well," they sighed.

"And I thought you'd appreciate the origin of the eggs," I added.

"Oh, and where are they from?" Their mouth was full, making them mumble a bit. They looked a bit scared.

"Well," I leaned towards them in my chair, "They're from The egg."

"Bullshit," they called, stuffing their face with more eggs. Maybe I should have given them more.

I laughed, genuinely, "They're just chicken eggs, I doubt the egg would taste very good,"

We ate and joked like nothing was wrong in the world. They were so good at making me feel at home, but the voices were eager to remind me of my past. I wouldn't let them spoil this. What we had was new to me, and I wouldn't just lay down and take the voices at their word. Gods know they aren't worth their weight.

— Philza —

“Hey, you two…” I creaked open the front door to Techno’s cabin.

The bird smiled at me from the breakfast bar, “Hey Phil, good morning!” They seemed very chipper for having just woken up. Both of them were already dressed in the day’s clothes, excluding overcoats that hung on the hooks by the door.

“Hello, Phil,” Techno nodded at me. His hair was neatly braided and they were both already dressed.

"How was your morning?"

"Techno made me breakfast!" They laughed. That was a surprise, he didn't even cook for me.

"Ooh, nice," I said, "What's better than breakfast in bed, eh?"

"Riches beyond your wildest dreams," Techno chuckled. I guess they were both in a good mood this morning.

“It’s nice to see you, mate,” I said to the bird, wandering over to join them at the breakfast bar. I sat down on a stool next to them, putting the notebook on the counter in front of me. “I’ve got something for you.”

“Ooh, what is it?” They said, sliding the notebook over to them. I reached over and opened it to the page I was referring to.

“The banquet has a dress code, and I’m assuming you don’t have anything that matches it,” Everything they wore was forest green or yellow, sometimes they had black or white clothes, but it was few and far between.

“What’s the dress code?”

“It’s blue, black, white, and gold,” I pointed to two drawings on the page, “I’m thinking either I make you a dress or a tuxedo, or I can mix the two. A tux top with a skirt. What do you think?”

They pressed their lips together, surveying their options. I tried my best to draw them, although they were rough sketches of a fancier design in my head. I could draw buildings and architecture for my blueprints, but flow-y things were not as easy.

/// UNDER CONSTRUCTION, BRRRRR ///

Choose your garment! It only affects the story slightly, I promise! There is no gender attached to them, it just changes how you’ll interact with people :)

Dress

Tux-dress

Tuxedo

[angelmavmurdock]

Our Little Secret: Part Seven - A.R.

Word count: 4883 Summary: Arvin has to avenge Lenora but has to see y/n before he leaves.

-

WARNINGS: SMUT, ORAL (fem recv), DIRTY TALK (mild), EXHIBITIONISM (kinda? car sex basically). a LOT of emotions.

TW: mentions of guns, the preacher being the horrific person he is

It was a week later and probably the worst week of my life. I was ultimately grounded: not being able to go to cheer practice, not being able to leave the house and of course, not being able to see Arvin. I would still cook and bake for the Russell's but I'd just drop it off at the door or give it to Earskell outside.

Daddy was getting worse and school was getting more stressful due to exams coming up. Ma and I were not talking much. Only statements, really. Nothing more, nothing less.

I missed Arvin. But I was angry at him and confused about the previous week and why he acted like that. He just gave up, just like that. He has always been so protective of me but in that situation he left me with the wolves. 

And on top of all of that, I was dealing with grief: an emotion I had never experienced before. Some days I felt numb and all I wanted to do was go to Arvin about it but I couldn't. And I was still dumbfounded at the fact she was pregnant and I had no idea. Lenora had somehow had sex and not told me. Maybe she didn't even know she was pregnant.

I often sat at my desk, pencil twirling in my fingers, thinking and wondering and daydreaming about him; when really I should be studying.

What was he doing? Did he miss me? Was he planning on seeing me again?

I could only wonder what he'd be doing at this moment...

Arvin's POV

I watched from the drivers seat, slumped with my cap low.

Reverend Teagardin had just gotten home from his rendezvous in the woods with the Reaster girl and was now greeting his wife. I saw him begin to take his suit jacket and tie off while gesturing for her to undress, too.

I clenched my jaw watching him. He undressed down to his shirt and socks, sitting proudly and smugly on his armchair like he owned the place. Like he owned her.

She sauntered up to him in her nightdress and dropped to the floor, hands on his thighs. I watched as he pushed her down fully on him.

I felt nauseas. I turned away and opened the window to get some air. I didn't like what I was doing but I had to do it. For Lenora.

After I'd seen enough, I drove home in silence. I didn't listen to the radio anymore. Just didn't feel right without y/n.

Despite the planning, the darkness and the grief going on in my life, the only thing that kept me going was the fact I might see y/n soon. But even then, I don't know if she'd even want to talk to me.

I had to leave to protect her and her parents. I understood them. I was the bad guy and she was the good girl and that's how it always was and always will be. There's no changing that.

When I got to the house, Earskell was sitting on the porch, a cigarette in his mouth

"You're late." He stated as I walked towards him.

"Yeah." I sighed.

I took my hat and jacket off then sat down next to him.

We sat in silence but it was far from that in my head.

I needed to leave tonight. But I had to see y/n. And I had to say some sort of goodbye.

But when I opened my mouth to say something, I closed it again. I wanted so bad to say goodbye but they'd be better off knowing nothing if the law came looking for me.

"Uncle...you have to be good to Grandma,"

I felt my eyes tear up. Thankfully it was dark so he couldn't see.

"She's hardly been out of bed since the funeral and without y/n here, she ain't been doin' good."

"I know." Earskell clenched his jaw.

"Grandma needs you, alright?"

He turned to me and nodded. But he looked longer than usual. It was almost like he knew.

I waited outside until Earskell went to bed. I walked in behind him and stood in the quiet house, my foot tapping the floor in thought.

If I was going to do it, it had to be now.

I collected my thoughts and quietly went into my room, packing a bag of basic clothes. My heart raced as I moved. Was I really doing this?

I stood and rubbed my hands over my face. I was crazy. What was I thinking? I sighed and sat on the edge of my bed, looking up at the art on the wall.

I never liked that drawing. It haunted me. Everything about this house and this town haunted me. Everything except from y/n.

I reached under my bed and pulled out an old wooden box. I sat it on my bed side table and opened it.

My daddy's old gun sat in the middle, accompanied by some bullets.

I gulped, staring at the weapon for a few moments before picking it up and loading it with shaky hands.

I placed it in my bag and left my room. I had every intent just to go. In the dead of night, just leave. But as I passed Grandma's room, I knew I had to write her. So I did. I quickly got out a pen and paper and wrote her a goodbye letter.

Dear Grandma, I'm writing to you because I cannot say goodbye to your face. I love you and I will always remember the things you have done for me. What I'm about to do, I do because I have to, not because I want to. Please do not try and find me. Love your grandson, Arvin.

I rolled it and sat it in a tin can. I quietly opened her bedroom door and tip-toed in, gently placing it on her bedside table. I looked at her for a few moments and then left, heading out her room, down the hall and out the front door. I got into the car, throwing my bag in the back and driving off.

It was 2 o'clock in the morning so I wouldn't expect y/n's parents to be awake. I drove up the drive of her house, nerves and adrenaline rushing through me. I parked before the gate and hopped out. There were no lights on except from one. The front left window on the second story. y/n's room.

I smiled and walked carefully along the gravel, trying not to be too loud. I picked up a few of the small gravel stones in my hand and grinned up at her window.

I aimed and threw a stone. It hit her window perfectly. I smiled, the realisation that I might see her dawning on me. I threw another, and another, and another. I was about to throw yet another until she pulled her window up.

She peeped her head out the window and looked down in shock.

"Arvin, what the hell?!" She whisper-shouted.

"y/n! Come down, please." I dropped the stones, wiping my hands on my jeans.

She looked behind her and I could see her hair pulled back messily. She must have been lying in bed.

"I can't!" She whispered.

"y/n, I really need to see you."

She scoffed, "Maybe you shouldn't have been such an asshole and I might have come down."

I hung my head, "I'm sorry, I really am. I was just trying to protect you-"

"Protect me?!" She hissed.

"Can you just come down and we can talk about this? Please?" I clasped my hands together.

She hesitated, looking at me to her door and then back at me again.

"Wait in the car I'll be there soon." She whispered before shutting the window.

I grinned and silently celebrated, returning back to the car to wait on her. I bit my lip nervously, my hands gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white.

But soon a figure caught my eye. I saw y/n exit her house and close the door carefully. She checked her surroundings before jogging over to the car. She was in a white blouse with a white A-line skirt. Her hair was intricately pleated and tied with a white silk ribbon. She looked ethereal as I opened the door for her and she got in. She didn't wear any makeup so I could see her freckles that peppered across her skin and her natural glow in the moonlight.

"Hi." She gulped nervously.

"Hey...d'you wanna go to the lake?" I asked.

"Sure." She nodded.

I pulled out and drove away and onto the familiar road we took to go to our spot.

"So, y/n I just-"

"I recommend we talk when we get there because if I scream at you and we get into an accident, that's my fault." She stated, not taking her eyes off the road.

I gulped, "Okay."

We drove in silence down the quiet roads. No one was out except from travellers. We finally reached the lake and I parked just beside it.

It looked picturesque; the moonlight shining onto the river making it gleam at the stars and the trees were full and lush.

Reader's POV

We sat in silence for a few moments. It was awkward and tension filled the air. I had snuck out and risked getting grounded again for this.

"Arvin, why am I here?" I finally asked, arms folding in front of my chest.

"Just to see you. I needed to see you." He spoke quietly.

I felt all the emotions come back to me but I didn't have enough energy to shout at him.

"Why did you leave? Why did you do that?" I asked.

He sighed, "I was protecting you."

I rolled my eyes, "Protecting me? Protecting me from what?"

"From your parents kicking you out or for them hating you for the rest of your life because you wasted it on me." He snapped.

"Wasted? You think that if we were together it would waste my life?" I turned to him fully.

He lay his head back, "I'm not like you, y/n. I'm not rich, I don't live in a fancy house, I don't work in some office job. I wouldn't be able to give you what you wanted and that's why your parents don't like me and I understand that."

I spluttered then scoffed at his negative attitude.

"Arvin, you are you and that is all I want." I felt tears spring into my eyes.

He turned his head to look at me.

"I don't need a fancy house or tons of money..." I shook my head and reached over to take his hand.

"But I do need you." I took his hand to my lips and pressed kisses onto his skin.

He watched me and I could see him tear up.

"I can't ruin your life like this." He shook his head.

"You are not ruinin' my life, Arvin. You're doin' everything but that. My life is miserable without you." I smiled slightly.

He moved his hand from mine and traced his calloused hand over my cheek, then pushing some stray hairs behind before cupping my face. His thumb stroked my skin softly as a tear rolled down his face.

"Oh, Arvin," I exhaled in sympathy.

"I'm already causin' trouble. I snuck you out at two o'clock in the mornin' I mean, that's not very responsible is it?"

I chuckled, "We're still teenagers, Arvin. We can still have fun. We don't need to be responsible all the time."

He slightly smiled, looking at my lips then to my eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked in a whisper.

I nodded, "Kiss me, Arvin."

He brought his lips to mine as I rested my hand on top of his. Our lips touched and it was as if nothing had happened and we were back to normal. It was soft and sweet, our lips moving in sync like we had done this a million times before. He slid his tongue into my mouth and I hummed at the taste of him. He moved his hand from my face to my waist and squeezed my skin. I took the initiative and crawled onto his lap.

It was a little awkward with my skirt but a chuckle and a giggle we resumed, lips clashing together in a new passion. Our tongues pushed and swirled in each other's mouths, exploring as much as we could.

His lips travelled to my neck and he sucked and licked over my skin. I moaned, threading my finger through his hair as I leaned back, allowing him more access to my neck. He kept going, kissing the spot on my neck he already knew I liked. I pulled him as close to me as possible and rolled my hips in reaction.

I moaned in pleasure and confusion. Arvin hesitated for a moment but when I experimentally rolled my hips again, he held them tighter and kissed my neck with more fervour.

I picked up a rhythm, grinding my hips down onto Arvin's jeans. The friction between my pants and his jeans sent pleasure coursing through me.

"Does that feel good?" Arvin asked even though he knew my answer.

"Feels so good," I moaned.

He helped my hips move faster on him and we stopped kissing in concentration. I tugged his hair in my fingers, closing my eyes to enjoy the unexpected pleasure. I paused to rip Arvin's jacket from his shoulders and to take his shirt off. He complied, lifting his arms and then shaking his hair back into place once it was off.

"Back seat." I mumbled breathlessly as I kissed his lips.

"You sure?" He asked in the same manner.

"Please." I whimpered.

We pulled away and I got off of him, shedding of my blouse and skirt on the passengers seat before getting into the back seat and lying down. Arvin removed his jeans awkwardly but then climbed on top of me relatively easily.

I smiled and wrapped my arms around his neck as he dipped down to meet my lips again. His slid down my sides, cupping and groping my breasts covered by my bra. I gasped, arching up into him. He smirked at my reaction and snaked his hand around my back, unclipping it with ease and then throwing it in the front seat.

He palmed my boob with one hand while the other cupped my face, our lips sloppily kissing one another.

He started to kiss my jaw, my neck and then went further, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down my breasts, my stomach and he stopped at my panties. He hooked his fingers under the waistband and I lifted my hips to help him take them off. He slid them off and discarded them.

I furrowed my brows in confusion when he didn't come back up to face me again. Instead, he lifted my legs and readjusted himself between my legs. I suddenly felt self-conscious as he was face-to-face with my crotch.

"Arvin, what're you-"

"Tell me if you want me to stop, baby." He said lowly before dipping his head between my thighs.

I gasped and gripped his hair instinctively as he licked my skin from my thigh to my core.

"Arvin," I moaned, his breath fanning over my core.

He looked up at me with his dark, lustful eyes as he licked a strip from my entrance to my clit. I bucked my hips onto him in shock and pleasure.

I had never even heard of this. I knew people had sex. But I didn't realise this was a part of it.

"Taste so good, baby." He mumbled.

His tongue flicked upwards on my clit and gained a steady pace. I held his head tightly, my fingers messing up his hair. I had never felt such pleasure before. His hands held my thighs but I noticed when one of them slipped from my skin.

I looked down at him and whimpered at the sight of him between my legs, tongue working against my clit expertly.

"Feels so good- oh my god!"

He slipped a finger into my entrance with ease, curling up to find my spot.

"Shit! Yes!" I arched my back, removing a hand from his hair to grip onto the back of the seat for some stability.

The duo of his tongue and his fingers was nearly too much for me to handle. Nearly. He kept going, never halting and praising me through it.

"Look so amazing, baby. Feel so good. Taste so sweet, darlin'."

"Arvin, I'm so close." I choked, feeling the same knot form in my stomach.

"Go on, baby. Come for me."

I held his hair and pushed him further into me as I felt my high approaching. He groaned as I chased my high, feeling myself clench around his fingers. His tongue never stopped and neither did his fingers as I came. I moaned loudly, my free hand trying to grip onto anything around me. My high washed over me euphorically, his mouth and fingers still riding me through it.

I pushed his head back a little when I became sensitive to his touch and he pulled away and lifted me off my back and swiftly onto his lap. I was still hazy but he kissed me softly, tucking some hair behind my ear.

"You did so good, baby." He uttered against my lips.

"That was...so good." I sighed in satisfaction.

"D'you wanna feel me?" He asked lowly.

I bit my lip and nodded, "Yes. God, please."

He smirked and lifted me up slightly with one arm as his other pulled his underwear down to his knees and he shrugged them off. I gulped at the sight of him again. He went to touch himself but I beat him to it, wrapping my hand around his member.

His breath hitched in his throat and he rested his hand on my thighs as I pumped my hand up and down, my thumb brushing over his tip each time.

I lifted off him and swiped his tip through my folds and then eased myself onto him. We both moaned as I sank down on him, bottoming out almost immediately because I was so wet.

"So tight, darlin', fuck." He groaned.

I moved up and down on him, picking the speed up relatively quickly.

Soon enough we were both panting, moaning messes. I bounced on him mercilessly, the sound of skin slapping filled the fogged car and I gripped onto his shoulder with one hand and the inside handle on the door with the other. Arvin's hands stayed on my waist, helping me to move up and down on him.

"Fuck, it feels so good. You feel so good, Arv." I moaned.

"So good for me, y/n. So fuckin' good." He leaned forward and encased my lips in a wet kiss before flipping me onto my back.

I gasped and then moaned in upmost pleasure as he pulled out and pushed back into me, his member hitting deep within me.

He dipped his head down to my neck and I clambered at his back, leaving scratch marks over him.

He thrusted into me relentlessly and I wrapped my ankles around him, bringing him as close to me as possible. Suddenly he shifted me down slightly and I moaned as his member continuously brushed against my spot.

"Yes! Right there, fuck!" I moaned, gripping onto him with dear life.

He continued, his grunts and moans filling my ears. I gripped his hair with one hand and his back with the other.

"Fuck, I love you so much." He said into my skin.

My heart fluttered, "I love you too. So much."

"You gonna come for me? Gonna come a second time for me? Good girl."

His words coaxed me into my second high. I arched my back and moaned louder than I should have but it felt too good. I held him as close to me as possible as he thrusted into me, every brush making my orgasm more intense.

"Fuck- baby, I'm gonna come." He groaned.

I released my legs from his waist and he pulled out of me, leaving me feeling empty. I replaced his hand quickly and pumped him on top of my core. He watched with an agape mouth, pleasure consuming him as he finished. He painted all over my lower stomach but I didn't mind. I enjoyed watching him finish. I loved the fact I made him finish.

"Shit," He crashed next to me, panting.

We sat listening to each others breathing before he sat up and grabbed a handkerchief from his jacket pocket. I giggled as he brushed it over my skin, cleaning me up softly, mindful of the fact I was still sensitive.

He reached behind the seats and retrieved a blanket we'd often use for cold nights.

"I'll put the radio on." I smiled.

I reached forward and turned on the radio. A song finished and I sat back. Arvin had found a comfortable position in the corner and tapped next to him. I smiled and sat where he gestured, both of us putting our feet up and relaxing into each other.

'I'll Never Smile Again' by Frank Sinatra came on the radio and I nuzzled into Arvin's bare chest.

(PLAY NOW!)

Arvin's POV

"I love this song." She sighed sweetly.

I gulped, knowing that this song would now have a whole new meaning to her after this conversation. In fact, it was pretty fitting.

"y/n, I gotta tell you somethin' that might seem crazy and horrible but..." I spoke nervously and I could already feel the lump beginning to form in my throat.

She squeezed me a little, "What is it?"

I took a few deep breaths, gathering my thoughts and what I was about to tell her.

"I needed to see you tonight because...because I'm leavin'. Tonight."

She paused and then sat up, holding her half of the blanket over her chest.

"What the hell are you talkin' about?"

I gulped, "I have to do somethin' and I can't be here anymore."

"What d'you have to do, Arvin?" She asked, concern lacing her voice.

I looked into her eyes, "I need to avenge Lenora." I said truthfully.

I think she immediately knew what I meant. She stopped and stared at me with the same blank expression for nearly a whole minute.

"y/n please say somethin'."

"I uh...I don't know who you're gonna hurt. But do you really need to?" She asked.

I nodded, "I have to. I won't be able to rest until I do."

Her chin began to quiver, "But I need you."

She broke into a sob and I brought her close to me, holding her head to my chest and rubbing her back soothingly.

"You will be just fine without me, y/n. I know you will."

"How can I live my life knowin' you might be out there. Or what if you die, Arvin?! What will I do?!" She sat up, facing me, tears staining her once glowing face.

I cupped her face and wiped her tears away, "I love you. And I will always love you, y/n. You need to know that. If I could, I would stay with you."

She cried into my hands and I felt myself begin to break.

"I would stay with you. I'd marry you, I'd have kids with you and get a house with you. I'd spend the rest of my life with you if I could, y/n. But I can't." I felt tears fall down my face.

She shook her reddened face in my palms, "I can't go on without you, Arvin."

"Hey, yes you can." I stated.

"You will be just fine. You're startin' college after the summer and you'll be gettin' a job, a life."

"Without you." She cried.

"I know. I'm so sorry it has to be like this, y/n."

She looked at me, "I'm sorry, too."

I brought her back into me and we sunk into our original position. We were both still crying and we both knew.

"Keep close with Grandma but don't tell her anything about me. I don't want her worryin' and I don't want her knowin' if she doesn't have to." I said, kissing the top of her head.

"Okay." She nodded.

"I don't know where this'll take me. I don't know if I'll get in trouble for it, killed for it, or what. But I can't come back here even if it was to be with you."

"How could we reconnect if you did survive and get through it?"

I sighed, "I have no idea. I could be half-way across the fuckin' country."

She sniffled and wiped her nose, "I can't believe this is happening."

"I know, darlin'. I know." I kissed her head again.

We sat listening to the radio just being with each other for another hour. We fell asleep for an hour after that, wrapped in each other with the blanket draper over us. The sun rising woke us up. We awoke at the same time and readjusted our position to how it was before and watched the sun turn the sky red, pink, purple and orange.

"Ain't this the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" She asked quietly, as if trying not to disturb the sun from continuing its venture into the sky.

I moved her hair away from her face and tilted her chin to look up at me.

"Nothing can or will ever be more beautiful than you, y/n." I said softly.

She smiled and colour rose to her cheeks. I leaned down and kissed her. It was deep and meaningful and timeless. Like the world stopped just for us. It was breathless and beautiful and it made my heart ache knowing I would never have this again.

She was the love of my life.

"I'll need to drive you home before your parents wake up." I sighed, pulling away from her.

She closed her eyes in dread but nodded in agreement.

We got out and peed then changed into our clothes. She took her hair out of the plait so it was wavy. I'd never seen it like that before. She looked beautiful. I leaned against the bonnet of the car with a cigarette in my mouth, watching the lake liven up again and the sun poking through the trees. y/n walked up slowly to me and stood next to me, wrapping her arms around me. We both looked at the scene in front of us and took it in.

"Let's get on the road, alright?" I whispered to her.

"Okay." She gulped.

I disposed my cigarette then we got in the car. I reluctantly drove away and we got back on the road, heading up to her house.

My hand stayed gripped in hers the whole way. I drove as slowly as I could up the drive but we reached the gate and I had to stop.

We turned to each other and crashed our lips together. We were both already crying so the breathlessness and the salty taste on our tongues was mutual. I cupped her cheeks and threaded my hands in her hair, then down her back and her waist to her hips and her ass, squeezing and then coming back up.

We both parted but stayed millimetres away, gasping for air.

"I love you." She said hurriedly.

"I love you too." I said it back.

"Fuck, I don't wanna get out the car." She cursed.

I brought her head to my clavicle, pressing my lips to her head and inhaling her scent.

"I love you." I said again as she pulled away.

She reached for me again, our lips meeting in a rushed, passionate manner.

Her hands moved into my hair to down my chest and then back up to cup my face.

"Fuck, I've gotta go, Arvin." She panted, a tear falling down her cheek.

"I love you." I said.

She hesitantly pulled away, our hands still intertwined.

"Be safe and do what you have to do, alright? I will always love you, Arvin." She said shakily.

"I will always love you, y/n." I stated, my eyes blurring.

She waited and paused and I knew she was about to go.

I leaned in again, kissing her deeply, getting the last taste of her, swirling my tongue hurriedly around hers in an attempt to savour every last moment with her.

We pulled away.

"I love you, Arvin."

"I love you, y/n."

She immediately got out the car. Slamming the door shut to rip the band-aid even more. I watched her as she walked up her driveway and up the steps to her house.

My heart shattered when she got in and shut the door without looking back.

"Fuck."

****

I sat down a few pews back from Reverend Teagardin, resisting the urge to shoot and kill him on the spot.

"Excuse me, Preacher?" I spoke up.

I looked up at him from my cap.

"You got time for a sinner?"

-

{Tags: @notanordinaryprincess96 @imagine-yourself-happy​}

[megsironthrone]

Choose Your Story Part 2

Here’ s part 2! You voted and the winner was B: Reader continues to do little things to purposefully annoy Sandor! With a mix of Normal and Sandor’s POVs *Characters are not mine!*

Prologue

Warnings: Obviously a Modern AU. Lots of fighting. Reader being passive aggressive, Sandor being angry. Renly being...well Renly. Implied sexy times(Not reader x Sandor). A couple swears.

Pairings/Characters: Eventual Sandor x reader, Reader x unnamed SO, Renly

(S.O/N)= Significant other’s name or other character you could be paired with.

It didn't take long after "The Incident" for you to realize that the guy was the person who just moved into the vacant apartment next to yours. You could have tried to make amends. You really could have. But every time you thought about your lost art supplies, your blood boiled. So, you did the next best thing. You set out to annoy the man as much as you possibly could.

         It started with small things. You would cook something you loved, knowing that it didn't always smell pleasant just so he would smell it. The walls between apartments were very thin. You'd invite your significant other over for some fun every few nights and purposefully be as loud as you could just to irritate him. But those things could be easily overlooked as unintentional. That wasn't what you wanted. You wanted him to know that you were still sore about the paints and that his attitude about the whole thing had irritated you.

         Next it was inviting people over when he was gone and telling them to park in his space so he'd have nowhere to put his beloved motorcycle. In the same night, you'd host parties for your few friends and blast the music just loud enough for him to hear but not disturb anyone else. And it just kept going for weeks. You knew you were getting to him by the glares he would send you whenever you did cross paths in the hallways, but you never knew he would eventually be pushed to the edge of his sanity.

Sandor's POV

         What in Seven Hells was wrong with you?! After trailing behind a spoiled brat that insisted he needed a personal trainer/bodyguard all day, the only thing Sandor wanted to do was relax and sleep. But you made it damn near impossible! Between the loud music, the smelly food, and your constant need for sex, you were making his life miserable. He was hardly sleeping which meant he couldn't do his job well which meant his "client", a kid of 16 whose parents were rolling in dough, threatened to fire him nearly every day. Sandor was absolutely done with this.

         Swinging open his door, Sandor marched over to your apartment and pounded on the door like his life depended on it. The music immediately stopped and the door opened. You smiled up at him as if you had no idea what you were doing. "Oh, hello again. Can I help you?" Sandor crossed his arms over his chest. "You can turn the damned music down! You can stop having your friends park in my spot. You can stop keeping me awake all night with your shagging and you can stop cooking whatever the hells it is you've been cooking! You're making the whole building smell!" Having said his piece, Sandor marched back over to his apartment.

         "SCREW YOU!" you screamed, running into the hallway before he could open the door. He whirled back to you. He stalked over until he was towering over you. It was easy for him since he was nearly seven feet tall. "I wouldn't let you screw me even if I was desperate. You are the most infuriating person I have ever met. You can't even say that you hate me. No, you take the coward's way out. Passive aggressive, like a child."

         "Fine. You want me to say it? I hate you. You ruined my art supplies and didn't even apologize. You think your damn bike is much more important than my job and dream. News flash: people matter, numb nuts! And by the way, why would I want to sleep with someone like you?! I am plenty happy with who I'm with. Not to mention, you look like crap. You should really do something about those bags under your eyes."

         Sandor clenched his fists. He was desperately trying not to hit you. Never before had he been so vexed by anyone. And part of the problem was that he knew that he should have apologized about the paints. He had just been so annoyed at the fact he and his bike were covered in them. He had planned on apologizing the next time he saw you, but things had already gotten worse. Now, it was his pride that kept from apologizing. Without saying another word, Sandor turned on his heel and went back to his apartment.

Normal POV

         You smirked, thinking you had won. You finally got to get everything off your chest. So why didn't you feel better? You looked to find your friends gaping at you from the doorway. "What?" you asked. No one answered for a second. Then Renly smiled. "Is it just me or did everyone else feel the sexual tension between those two?" You rolled your eyes. "Shut up, Ren. Anyway, you all should probably go. I forgot I have to work my 9-5 tomorrow. And Renly? Don't you dare mention sexual tension, that doesn't exist, around (S.O/N)."

         With grumbles and another smirk from Renly, your friends left. Yawning, you got ready for bed, not knowing that the next day was going to start off horribly. You went to bed with your mind bouncing back and forth. The fight between you and "The Arse"(you really should figure out his name), had been unexpected and the words exchanged were heated. It should have made you feel better, but it didn't. Still, no time to think about it now. Eventually, you let yourself fall asleep.

         The next morning, a loud obnoxious revving tore you from sleep. You jerked up and looked around blearily. The noise came again and you realized it was coming from underneath your window. Making your way to the window, you were instantly awoken by the sight of "The Arse". He was sitting under your window, looking up at you, revving his bike.

         You glared down at him before grabbing a can of paint that you had finished using. You opened the window and threw the can. Unfortunately, he moved out of the way just soon enough to miss being hit by the liquid. As he sped off, you shouted "ARSEHOLE!", earning shouts from your neighbors to quiet down. It didn't look like things were going to be resolved anytime soon.

(Voting for the next part will begin tomorrow! I hope you enjoyed part 2!)

Choose Your Story Tags: @fallatyourfeet​ @songoficecreamandfireworks​ @emmice9​ @silversprings98​ (Tags for this are separate from normal, so please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future parts!)

[whyarethedolanssoattractive]

Paint You Wings ~ Ethan Dolan {Part Eleven}

Averly’s POV

@randomdolantwinfanaccount1: Who is this averly girl anyways? Seems like a total bitch to me...

@randomdolantwinfanaccount2: Ethan shouldn't have to settle. He's WAY out of her league!!!

@randomdolantwinfanaccount3: @ethandolan is waaaay to good for @averlyy.dixonn js

I sighed and turned off my phone, then pulled the covers up over my shoulders and tried to go back to sleep. It almost worked until Ethan came into my room and laid down beside me.

"Good morning, Babe." He smiled and kissed my nose.

I put my hand on his cheek. "Good morning. So I was thinking, maybe we could finish the painting today? I've only got a week before I meet back with Clifton." I said and ran my thumb back and forth on his cheekbone.

He smiled and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, sure. Um, but I wanna take you on a date as soon as possible today, so wear a swimsuit under your clothes, okay?" He winked and kissed me quickly then stood up. "Oh, and I saw all those horrible comments and tweets and shit. Just don't listen to 'em. I know it's not that easy, but it's all you can do." He smiled, then went into the bathroom.

I sighed and stood up, then went to the kitchen to get some coffee. A few minutes later, Ethan came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. "I'm gonna go shower. I'll see you. . . whenever." He laughed and kissed my cheek, then walked away.

"See you." I smiled even though he couldn't see me, then went to shower myself.

After I got out, I debated on what swimsuit to wear under my clothes. The red one was more classic and hot, but the black one made me feel more confident. I chose the black one and slipped it on, then grabbed a coral off-the-shoulder shirt and blue jean shorts with tan gladiator sandals. As for my hair, I just let it do its thing after I brushed it, then I did pretty light makeup. If I needed a swimsuit, I didn't want to do something that would come off from swimming.

Instead of knocking, I just walked into Ethan and Gray's apartment. Grayson was sitting on the couch watching TV and waved at me as I came in. "Good morning, Av."

"Morning, Gray. Is Ethan-"

"Just got out of the shower. If you hurry, he might still be naked." He joked, then resumed his TV-watching.

I laughed and walked into his room, then sat on his bed. He was digging around in his closet with a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Hey, Babe." He smiled when he turned around and started putting on his shirt. I laid down and looked at my phone so it wouldn't be weird when he put on his pants. "You ready?"

I sat up. "Yeah, let's go."

As we left, he grabbed two pairs of sunglasses from the counter and handed me one. They were classic black Ray Bans, so they went fine with my outfit. We slid into his car, then went to the studio.

"So what're we doing for our date?" I asked looked out the window as he drove.

His hand rested on my thigh. "It's a surprise."

I groaned. "You're not gonna tell me?"

He shook his head and laughed. "Nope. And besides, even if I did, there would still be a bunch of surprises."

I sighed and put my hand on his, then got on my phone. I saw a lot of messages from my old friends back home asking about Ethan. They were all freaking out because 1. He was hotter than hell, and 2. He was one of the two Dolan Twins. I ignored them all for the time being. I just didn't want to have to explain my relationship to a bunch of people.

Once we got to the studio, I started to set up right away. I put some paint-stained clothes on over my my nice ones, then got right to work. During our breaks, I would mix paint and Ethan would wrap his arms around me to watch.

By the time we finished the painting, it was almost lunch. I looked at the piece, then flipped it on all sides to get different angles. I honestly loved how it turned out. Ethan took a picture of it on his phone, then took a selfie under the lowest face. I was positive that Mr. Clifton would love the piece.

As we walked out to the car, Ethan laced his fingers through mine. "So I was thinking that we could go get some lunch, then officially start the greatest date in the world." He mentioned.

"Great. Where are we going?" I asked and crawled into the car.

He smiled and shook his head, then got into the driver's seat. "I already told you that I'm not gonna tell you, and I'm not gonna tell you again that I'm not gonna tell you so don't ask me to tell you because I'll have to tell you that I already told you that I'm not gonna tell you again that I'm not gonna tell you." He stared at me deadpan for a few seconds. I tried my hardest to hold a straight face, but failed gloriously. I started laughing and had to cover my face in my hands.

"Oh my god, E." I shook my head. He laughed, then leaned over the console and kissed my cheek. "Can I have the aux chord?" I asked and started reaching for it anyways.

He shrugged. "I don't care."

I had been wanting to do this for weeks. I just really wanted to see how he would react. Part of me was positive he would sing along, but another part also thought he was gonna deny the fact it was playing entirely.

I skipped the very beginning of what I was playing so it would get right to the good part. The second it started, I was jamming out.

"I'm for real about to quit, say goodbye to Tuesday!"

Ethan groaned and shook his head. "No, no, no, no, no, stop! The cringe! It's too much!" He then started mumbling nonsense to cover the song. Luckily, he stopped at my favorite part.

"And why your jawline look like a bicycle seat?" I reached over and caressed his cheek.

He laughed and shook his head. "You love the bicycle seat on my face." He grinned, then grabbed my hand.

I nodded my head. "You're right, I do."

He smiled, then started singing along. I absolutely lost it to the point where I couldn't breathe and tears were streaming down my face. By the time the car stopped, I was fairly certain I had died.

We got out of the car and giggled the whole way into restaurant. Once inside, I was immediately awestruck. It was beautiful, but it didn't seem too fancy. Ethan grabbed my hand and walked to the host. "Reservation for Dolan, please, Sir." He smiled.

The host flipped through a book quickly, then smiled and nodded. "Right this way, please." He led us through the restaurant and into a small corner booth with dim lighting. I crawled in first, then Ethan shimmied in beside me. "What can I get you to drink?"

"I'll just have water, please." I smiled and looked around a little more.

"Same here."

The host nodded his head, handed us menus and silverware, then left. Ethan put his arm around my shoulders and opened up his menu. "So the only time I've been here before was third-wheeling for Grayson and the first girl he dated in LA. However, I remember that I had a burger, and it tasted like God himself had hand-picked a cow, killed said cow, perfectly cooked and seasoned said cow, and, well, you get the picture." He laughed and shrugged.

I smiled at him, then kept flipping through the menu. "Where are we going after this?" I was hoping I had caught him a little bit off-guard, but I knew I probably wasn't successful.

He sighed, pulled his arm away and turned to face me head-on. "Averly, baby, sweetheart, my dearest, my pride and joy, apple of my eye, my lovely lady-friend, I am not telling you."

I groaned and sat my head back. "But why? It's not like I can ruin it or something just by knowing about it."

He simply shook his head. "Don't care. It's the essence of surprise that's supposed to make this date great." He put his arm back around me, then a waiter came with our waters.

"What can I get the two of you to eat this afternoon?" He asked and smiled at us.

I folded our menus and handed them to him. "I'd like a cheeseburger with mustard, please." I requested, then leaned back into Ethan's arm.

"And for you, Sir?"

"I'll have the same, please." He smiled and nodded his head once, then grabbed my hand with his that wasn't on my shoulder. "That guy was totally eyeing you." He mumbled after the waiter left.

I sighed and shook my head. "He was not."

He popped his neck. "When he comes back I'm gonna flex."

My eyebrows raised slightly. Without flexing, Ethan was perfect. But I wouldn't necessarily mind seeing him flex at our waiter. "Y'know, on second thought, he might have been eyeing me."

He laughed and kissed my cheek, then rubbed my shoulder lightly. "I'm really glad we're doing this."

"Me too." I smiled and leaned towards him for a kiss, then my text-tone dinged. I shut my eyes in defeat, then kissed him quickly and looked at the text.

iMessage from Ellie:

What if I paid you money? Like $100? Would you come home?

I shook my head and turned it to mute, then sat it on the table. "I can't deal with her today."

Ethan smiled to one side, but half-heartedly. "Tell me about your family. Y'know, and your home, and your friends and stuff. I wanna hear it all."

I laughed and took a deep breath. "Careful what you wish for."

He shook his head. "No, really. I mean, you've told me a little about Ellie, but that's it."

For a minute, I debated it in my head. What was the worst that could happen if I told him? Well, for one, he could think I'm crazy. On another note, he could think the fact that I painted over my dad's office window was a little absurd. But I knew him. He moved to LA when he was fifteen. He'd done some crazy stuff in his life, too.

"Okay, fine. My parents are. . . They're respectable people. My mom is a teacher, my dad owns a marketing company, you know, classic cookie-cutter family. Um, anyways, my dad didn't like the idea of me getting into art when I was, like, twelve, so he tried to cut off my ties to it. He wanted me to take on the company after he retired and thought art would just get in the way. I mean, I still managed to get my hands on it, obviously, but not exactly in the most conventional ways. Freshman year, I made a few friends that would go out to this abandoned hotel and spray-paint. Technically, nobody owned the property. People were in the middle of deciding whether it should have been restored as an artifact or taken down and the land be used for another building.

"I'm getting off track," I laughed. Ethan smiled and moved his hand for me to keep going. "Uh, oh yeah! Okay, so I would paint stuff at the old hotel and then take pictures. One of my friends got ahold of the photos and sent them to UNT's art director in Denton. She basically told me that I had what it took as far as talent went, but I wasn't quite daring enough. Of course, I took things out of proportion after that and to be 'daring' painted a mural on the back of my dad’s office building of a Native American man with, like, the horizon in the reflection of his eyes. It was the Dallas skyline with a pollution cloud. I really liked it, but within hours, even in the middle of the night, it was stripped. My dad told me to beat it, so I did. UNT didn't want a vandalising delinquent at their school, so I packed up and came to LA." I shrugged and took a sip of my water.

He smiled, then licked his lips. "You're a freaking badass."

I laughed and shook my head. "No, I'm a bad kid!"

He rolled his eyes in a joking manner and kissed me lightly. "No you're not. I have a question though." I raised my eyebrows. "Do you think you'll ever wanna make peace with your dad? Like, at all?"

I sighed and scrunched my mouth to one side. "Yeah. I'm not ready now, though. I think I'll go home for Christmas and do it then."

He smiled vaguely and nodded. "That's good."

Before too long, our food came to us. We barely spoke while we ate because the food was amazing. Every time the waiter came, Ethan flexed every visible muscle. I couldn't help but crack up each time because of how hard he was trying.

When we left, it was around two-ish. Ethan still wouldn't tell me where we were going, but I decided to go with it. We jammed out to Ed Sheeran music the whole car ride, dancing ridiculously, singing in falsetto, and acting out the words. I barely even noticed when the car stopped.

"Averly Dixon, welcome to the pier!"

We crawled out of the car, then he held my hand as we walked to the carnivalesque area. There were booths with games, rides, caricature artists, and photo-booths. I dragged Ethan into one of those first.

For our first picture, we just smiled. The second one, we stuck our tongues out and crossed our eyes. In the third one we were laughing at each other's expressions from the previous photo, and we kissed for the fourth.

I slid my photo-strip into my wallet, then grabbed Ethan's hand as he led me around. We played a bunch of games that we both sucked at, rode a bunch of rides that made us almost vomit, and ate a lot of food that we didn't need since we just had lunch. By the time we were done at the pier, the sun was starting to set.

He led me to a dock and we sat down on the wooden planks with our feet dangling below us. "Today was a lot of fun, Ethan. Thank you." I leaned on his shoulder and wrapped my arms around his waist.

He kissed my head. "Don't thank me. And it's not quite over."

I raised my eyebrows and looked around. He pointed at a boat coming our way, then stood up and helped me to my feet. Once the boat got closer, I could barely see Grayson sitting at the front and waving. When it got close to the dock, we jumped on and sat by Grayson.

"Hey, crazy kids. How has your day been?" He ruffled Ethan's hair and smiled menacingly.

I laughed. "Pretty good, really."

Ethan put his arm around me and leaned back. "I'll buy you ten burgers from the restaurant if you jump in the water in the next twenty seconds." He whispered.

Before I knew it, I took off my shirt, shoes, and shorts, then canon-balled into the water. The second my head came up, Ethan and Grayson were laughing their asses off, while I froze mine away.

"Your turn, now!" I demanded. Grayson shook his head and laughed, but Ethan took off his shirt and shoes and jumped in with me.

A few minutes later, we crawled back into the boat and wrapped up in one of the blankets Grayson brought. It seemed like the sun went down extremely quick after that.

"Oh, by the way, you aren't afraid of fireworks. . . Are you?" Ethan asked.

Before I could answer, one went of right over our heads. My eyes got huge as I looked up as the light seemed to fall into the buildings on the horizon.

Grayson stood up with his phone. "I'm just letting you guys know that I'm gonna take some candids of the two of you guys because, honestly, you're cute as fuck."

Ethan and I laughed, then laid back in the seat and looked up at the fireworks. Before long we decided we were uncomfortable. Ethan sat long-ways on the seat, then I sat between his legs. His arms wrapped around me and he kissed the side of my head.

Grayson managed to take a picture when he did. I was already excited to see what he got.

The three of us simply talked for the rest of our boat-ride. I couldn't help but wonder how I was so lucky to have met these amazing guys, but I wasn't about to question it.

"Fireworks are almost over, and I really want a specific picture of the two of us, okay?" Ethan stood up, then demanded I do the same. We stood where we were facing exactly sideways of where we had seen the fireworks go off. He pressed his lips to mine and we waited for one to explode behind us.

I started laughing because our timing was remarkably horrible. We pulled away and rested our foreheads against each other, still laughing quietly.

Then a firework went off. Grayson took a picture, but Ethan and I groaned.

"Are you kidding?" I asked nobody, really. Ethan laughed, then got his lips really close to mine.

"We'll be ready for the next one."

As it turned out, that was the last firework of the night. We docked the boat, then Ethan and I got off where we got on. Grayson rode back to where he got on because his car was there.

On the ride back to the apartments, he texted me all the pictures. The more I looked at the one where our foreheads were rested against each other, the more I loved it. "Hey, E, I'm gonna post the one where we're touching foreheads."

He nodded. "Okay, but I get the first one he took."

I smiled at him. "Deal."

@averlyy.dixonn: best. night. ever. we may not have gotten the *exact* picture we wanted, but i think i like this one better <3 @ethandolan

Within seconds, the likes and comments started coming in. I had gotten a lot more followers since Ethan announced our relationship. People I never thought would know who I was were commenting.

@casparlee: How sweet! Maybe a couples game on my channel in the future???? @ethandolan

@rickydillon: MY HEART CAN'T TAKE IT

@jamescharles: Mom and Dad!!!

@jackdail: Ewwwww

There was one comment that stuck out that I could have done without, though.

@elizabethdixonnn: Is there a reason you didn't tell me?

Honestly, yeah.

[theactivememoir]

This, was the Hardest Fall 11.17.19-2.5.2020

Warning: ~10,600 words, This one is long. And very painful.

My life turned to hell in a matter of months, I left California 1.5 years ago and  ever since then it turned into one big mess, and took all the strength I could muster to change that. But it took waking up. And one day I finally did it, I woke up.

But let me start from how this all got started.

I got broken up with 3 days before my 21st birthday in May of 2018. So I moved states after that to live with my cousin in North Carolina for a time. It was supposed to be a small vacation, just a couple months. It was supposed to be me finding myself as to who I am as an adult, how to be independent from living at home with my parents, how to live life. That’s what it was supposed to be...

But then I met him...

I was walking to the bar, since there were only 3 in this small town of Southern Pines and that’s just what you do on a Wednesday night. I saw someone I knew and gave them a hug and they introduced me to this disheveled skater boy named Josh. I didn’t really think anything of it, I met so many people every single day, I was the new girl in town, I ended up meeting everyone anyways.

I think I was still playing around, enjoying being the new girl since that brought all the attention, which is always fun, but he kept persisting. And persisting, and persisting, until finally I said yes to hanging out with him. We spent 36 hours together awake doing things with each other. It started at the bar on a lazy Sunday night, not many people, I could actually hear him talking across the table from me for once. I enjoyed his company, he was different from the rest, not some small town hick, he was actually pretty gentlemanly, and a Florida boy too. So here we were, the two random ocean children in the middle of a luscious green never-ending forest.

We talked and talked, and walked all around downtown after the bar closed down at 2am. There’s something calming-ly romantic about walking the streets of a lullaby downtown. The streets are lit just for us, window shopping is a must, as merchandise in the windows is the only thing to really look at. The stars shone overhead, and the distant rush of the wind, and a couple just passing the time by enjoying each other's company...

Monday was when he was supposed to take me on a date, and as the hours passed by into 7:30 am on the day of our date, we respectively went our separate ways for maybe 30 mins and he picked me up to go on our date.

And what do the only two Ocean Children do for a date?? Why go to the beach of course, an excruciating three hours away. But music and soft touches are enough to keep one's hopes up until the awaited sound of the sea.

When we got there he first took me to an aquarium, and like I always do, I got a pressed penny to solidify the memory. The aquarium was small, nothing beats the Aquarium of the Pacific in Long Beach. “Everything is better in California”

Then we went to the pier, lots of fishing guys out there, we even met a pelican named Frank. We spotted a stingray and a shark so we opted to not touch the water, on my behalf, so we posted up under the pier and laid in my double hammock for God knows how long, resting and snoozing to the crashing waves in the warm August sun. As the night went on and the sunset was breaking, he took me to dinner, and then the drive back home.

It was so calm and relaxing, his soft touches on my skin, drawing random patterns on my arms and neck. I thought I was the only one who did that. He listened to my fusion music and really enjoyed it, at the time he was interested in my dancing and liked how I danced. And he told me how he wrote music and played guitar, he used to surf in the Florida waves, and did construction for the longest time, always stressing his body but never giving up on it. I think that moment in the hammock, when we kissed as the sun hit our faces, our bodies entwined into one in the lightning blue cocoon, that’s when I fell for him. 

I should have known myself, it was only 3 months that I had been single. I should have known better...

“I fall in love too easily, I fall in love too fast, I fall in love so terribly hard for love to ever last…”

I think after that day at the beach we saw each other almost everyday. His sister, who owned Southern Angel Donut Co. offered me a job, which paid way better than my $2.13/hr waitress job. Once I started working there it was all over. We almost never left each other's side. And he kept “calling it” saying working together would ruin our relationship. But I paid it no mind, and enjoyed making light and fluffy donuts with him.

While the rest of the world was sleeping, we were hard at work making the warm, melt in your mouth donuts that Sarah’s recipe was known for. We’d get off work at 10 am, and go to sleep the rest of the day away. A horrible habit that was ingrained into our bones far too early on in our relationship.

I think it was a mere 2.5 weeks that we started dating and seeing each other that I then started working with him at the donut shop. And within that mere 2.5 weeks we made it Facebook official that we were together.

I almost immediately got a phone call from my family members asking about who this person is and that I should be careful since I’m basically on my own and I should ask my cousin for advice about it. I didn’t listen. I was too in love to see that I was moving too quickly, and getting settled too fast.

As I stated before, we almost never left each other’s side. Wake up at 1:30/2 in the morning, go make donuts for 6-8hrs, then come back to his-I mean Sarah’s house, hang out with the kids for a bit, and then go to sleep in his room until around 7pm, or just sleep straight through until we had to work the next day. If memory serves me correctly I went back to my cousin’s house only a handful of times, for new clothes and a breather from Sarah’s gaggle of children.

The weeks blurred by, and the change in lifestyle left my bar friends wondering where the hell I went. My old coworker even reached out to see what the hell I was up to. “Making donuts! It's great!” I would reply. Oh, if only I could go back and tell myself how wrong I was.

No actually that is a lie. Making donuts is great. I’m a baker at heart. I love baking, I used to do it with my mother and so baking things and seeing people's reactions to the delicious delicacies I create for them is something I hold very near and dear to my heart. So yes, the art of making donuts is great. 

First you fill the giant mixing bowl 1.5 liters of warm water, crumble and toss in a block of high quality yeast and whisk together. Then weigh out a top secret amount of top secret donut mix, 2 with all the weight, 1 with one weight off. Followed by attaching the VERY heavy dough hook, turn on the mixer and mix together for 8 minutes.

After the dough is mixed you bring it over to a very well floured baking table, pour out the heavy dough and push it to the back of the table, making sure the edges are fluffed underneath itself so when it rises in about 20mins it will have lovely rounded edges. Then you wait.

After about 20mins, you gently tap the dough, and if it feels right (which is a skill in and of its own) you either let it proof a little longer, or you start cutting donuts.

Now cutting donuts is also an art form, as we made handmade donuts. Each one is a little different from the one before. We cut the donuts with a roller, but each donut was touched by our hands as they were placed onto the frying screens. And then put into the proofer for another 15 mins. 

Once they are proofed, and again, with sight and touching the dough you can tell if they are ready or not. Sometimes they would proof slower or quicker depending on the heat, the humidity, or the weather.

Then bring over to the 365 degree fryer, and drop the donuts in, fry each side for approximately 25-30 seconds, flipping with wooden chopsticks, lift the screen and donuts out of the fry, let drip as you cook the next screen, bring over to the glaze, lift the other screen from the fryer, glaze donuts, let drip, drop another screen, bring glazed donuts to glaze rack, flip donuts, bring screen to glazer, lift donuts, rinse and repeat for 6 -8 hrs.

My favorite part was decorating the donuts, especially when there is a holiday because my fully artistic self got all the pleasure of making themed donuts. But even the regular topped donuts were fun to make. Topping too had an artful skill in creating the perfect topped donut. Which all of the other employees didn’t have one flying fuck to learn to perfect.

There is a certain sheen, a certain drip, a certain way the frosting coats a donut, when melted to the perfect temperature. And no one else besides myself and his Sister cared to figure out what that perfect frosting consisted of. There is also a certain way the donut should look when certain toppings are put onto the donuts.

Sprinkles should, as the name is, be sprinkled, lightly, with carnival sprinkles. All others should be pressed. A maple bacon donut should have the bacon patted off so that the grease doesn't ruin the consistency of the maple frosting, a fruity pebble donut should never have crumbs or crushed pebbles on top, an oreo donut should never have fine oreo powder on top it should be big chunks, and a half and half donut should be vanilla icing first and then chocolate not vice versa. Not to mention cinnamon sugared donuts need to be cinnamon sugared whilst hot and Long Johns are always,always, ALWAYS double filled. If a filled shell has a bubble it should be tossed and if a round has a chopstick hole it too should be tossed because the donut will be too greasy. If the donut doesn’t have a halo it was under proofed and if the donut deflates or cooks too fast it was overproofed. If the donut is light yellow or dark brown it was either undercooked or over fried. A perfect donut is a lovely golden yellow brown, with a heavenly halo all around it, and a perfect thin shiny coating of glaze.

So when I say I enjoyed making donuts, I really did. Truly it was a skill I perfected over the course of a year and a half. I could put down “expert donut maker” on a resume, and I will in fact get laughed at when I say I only made donuts for 1.5 years. But if I showed someone, if I showed how I make donuts, how twists are twisted with minimal flour and second run only, how apple fritters are chopped and rolled, how cinnamon rolls are flattened and fluffed. They would say I really am an expert donut maker.

Three months into my relationship with Josh, it became crunch time for him and his family, as their lease was up at their house and they were going to move. Josh wanted a place of his own and, honestly I don’t know why Sarah moved out of that house in Pinehurst. It was actually a decent size. I think the reasoning was to be closer to the new up and coming second location in Robbins. (I will touch on that later) But honestly where she moved to in Carthage was quite a downgrade. I don’t know what else to call it besides a permanent mobile home? There's a name for it I just can’t remember right now. It had a long length but the width wasn’t very big. A single wide home? There was barely any space for her 6, ahem, 5 children plus one on the way.

Oh I haven’t explained that yet.

Let me backtrack some more.

Josh’s sister, Sarah (32), has been pregnant for most of her life. Her first child, and only daughter, she had when she was fifteen, FIFTEEN. And then right after came baby #2, her first son. Those two were fortunate enough to have the same father, Brandon, who comes into this story later. Her next son was born from a Haitian man. Her next son she won't admit has a different father so she insists the Haitian man is both baby #3 and #4’s father. Even though baby #3 is obviously Haitian, and baby #4 is obviously Mexican. Then comes baby #5, a 3 year old who can’t talk in full sentences, isn't potty trained, can’t dress himself, doesn’t usually put his shoes on the right feet, and has extreme anger and attitude issues, whose father is also in jail. AND THEN Sarah’s boyfriend, Alex (21, yes they are 11 years apart her being the older one) who SARAH AND JOSH KNEW WHEN HE WAS A BABY, is the father of her now baby #6.

So when I say I learned to bite my tongue very early on...I mastered the fucking skill, of biting my tongue and not speaking my mind.

In the moment, it was, oh to each their own. But that too became resentment.

Along with Sarah’s children, there was also their mother, who I liked, she was nice and always thinking of her children, but she too began to wear on me and for reasons I will soon explain.

When Josh and Sarah were 10 and 11 years old, their dad (who was born in the 1920’s) passed away. 6 months later their house burnt down. And soon after that their mother basically ditched them for drugs and also went to jail. So at the young age of 15, Sarah, who I presume was also pregnant at that time too, took custody of Josh. Which I’m sure some psychologist can look at that and explain to me that how I was treated was rooted from not having very good role models as a child and basically immediately into later childhood was put into survival mode and had to grow up in order to survive at the age of 10.

Going back to moving houses. Sarah basically downgraded her living to be directly in the middle of the two locations for her donut shop. Josh wanted a place of his own, but because we spent every waking moment together and I basically never left, he brought up the idea that we should move in together. My family DID NOT like that idea at all, which to my stupidity I withheld the information of our moving in together and kept it a secret until the day before we moved in. Because I knew it was stupid, deep down I knew it was a bad idea. I had free rent, free groceries, a beautiful yard, and a car at my cousins. And I was leaving all of that behind why? For a guy. Yes that sounds like a wonderful idea. 

But there was a part of me that wanted so badly to say that this was my house. To say, welcome to our home, look at my kitchen. Come into my living room. I wanted that title that I was living on my own. Sure we lived together but the space was mine, ours really, but it was mine. 

We found a lovely town-home, 2 bedroom, 2.5 bath, in a small town waaayyyyy out in the boonies for only $800 a month, we didn’t have any furniture so it was definitely bigger than we really needed. We didn’t even have a bed for the first two weeks we lived there. We slept on the floor with layers of blankets as a cushion. My hips were purple from bruises since I slept on my side. It was actually a pretty decently sized space, again, we didn’t have anything to fill it with. It had a large living room, and a nice sized master bedroom. And an enormous backyard, which was shared but who cares, my patio was overlooking a lake. It was a half abandoned golf course, that started losing money when the government had to break the dam to the lake years before when a hurricane blew threw and the water was too much that flooding would occur if they didn’t break the dam. Except they never fixed the dam afterwards, so the lake, which supplied the irrigation for the golf course, mostly dried up. So the original owners took as much money as they could and ran off. Leaving a half developed golf home community to fend for itself. Honestly it was quite beautiful in it's half abandonment. The underdeveloped housing areas made for peaceful trail walks with Forrest, our pit bull. And the lake with bridges that were falling apart made for risky and thrilling adventures to go explore. Or at least they were when we first moved in.

Tell me why is it that when one gets comfortable with their significant other, the romance and the wooing stops? Tell me why is that when the mundane things that used to be made interesting, go back to being mundane, or even a chore?

I wanted to serve him. Show him I was such a great girlfriend compared to his crazy psycho ex. That I could take care of myself and him.

I shouldn’t have so soon. He got used to it far too quickly. 

I loved my little kitchen. I loved to cook, discover new recipes and try them when I got home from work. I loved shopping at the ole Piggly Wiggly and bringing home extremely discounted items and using them right away before they expired. He’d never know they were one day away from expiration if I cooked up a good meal that night. He’d be too busy looking for error coins to add to his growing collection to notice that the chicken I was using was in the fridge for two days, if he knew he wouldn’t eat it. I loved hearing him say, “Damn, you showed out on dinner babygirl. My Latina wifey makes me so happy when she cooks for me.” I craved that so badly. The instant gratification that I was doing a good job. That I was making him happy by doing something that I loved to do.

...until I started hating to do it…

My cooking meals for us, no matter how long my work day was. My taking care of doing the laundry on my days off and cleaning the house. My going grocery shopping and late night gas station runs to get him more cigarettes. It was always me, me, me, every damn time. And I never saw it. Until it was too late, and even then, I still told myself I was doing it to show him I loved him. What a stupid lie that was…

“Babe it's 11pm we should be going to bed.”

“Then go to bed, I’ll be here looking at coins.”

“No Josh, it’s time for bed. C’mon I want to cuddle you, it’s so cold in the bed alone.”

“Alright, alright, just let me smoke this cigarette and I’ll be up there, fuck.”

And still I slept alone. And nothing was ever changed. And that was still North Carolina.

We lived in our town-home in Vass for 7.5 months. We had a folding table and 2 chairs from the donut shop as our dining room table, a twin bed borrowed from their mom as our couch. We had a chest of drawers given to us by a former employee that Josh didn’t even use for clothes, and a queen mattress sent to us from my mother out of pity that we didn’t have a bed yet. For 7.5 months we lived in that home and we never got more things, even though I wanted the cutest matching dish set, the cutest hand towels. The most perfect beach bungalow themed town-home in the middle of evergreen pine needles, and pollen covered lakes, where the occasional cow moo can be heard, from the cow farm just over yonder. I wanted our home to be a reminder of where we came from, the two Ocean Children in the sea of trees. But it was just a reminder of where he came from. Poverty, and not having a home feel like a home.

Once the second donut shop location opened in Robbins, a small middle of nowhere bodunk town with barely any residents, our work schedules changed completely. It actually benefited our relationship slightly. He would go to work at 6pm and be home by 2 or 3am. I became the manager and basically sole employee of Robbins, and would go to work from 5am-3pm. I had only a couple hours to be with him during the days we both worked, and we had one or two days a week where we both had off and enjoyed each others company doing absolutely nothing all day. We even stopped at a gas station a few times, him on his way home and me on my way to work, just for a lovers rendezvous so I could at least be in his arms and kiss him for a min before not seeing him again for another 24 hrs. It almost fixed our already rocky relationship. If anything it just kept it going longer than it should have. Robbins was the beginning of my overworked-ness with Sarah. I was the manager, and main employee. I only got a $2 raise, and was still going in and making donuts 2 nights a week. And occasionally, whilst I was at the shop at 8pm I would get a call saying my employee wasn’t able to go to work the next day. So here I am busting my ass to make donuts for two locations, I wouldn't be getting home until 4am after making donuts for 7 hours, and then would have to rush to go to work by 530 am and work another 10 hours.

That’s when I should have started saying no. That’s when I should have started putting my health and well being on the forefront of my priorities. If anything I put it all on the backburner. That’s when Sarah realized she had full control over me, and could work me like a dog, like her personal slave. And I wouldn’t even argue it. Nor would she act like she was doing it.

This went on for months. Robbins opened early December, and when March rolled around a new development came into play. The owner of Dixie Cream Donuts in Florida called. The owner, was Sarah’s previous partner, Brandon, remember that name from earlier? Yeah Brandon is Sarah’s two older kids' father. He owned the donut shop that Sarah worked for originally for 18years straight. That's how Southern Angel got its recipes, they were from Dixie Cream, because Sarah used to manage Dixie Cream in Florida, where Sarah and Josh are from. Apparently Brandon was planning on moving out of the country, and there was no one else he trusted more to run Dixie Cream Donuts, than the Donut Queen herself. So he struck the deal of a lifetime for her, and sold her the business for Xmillion dollars. Hey guess what guys, we’re moving to Florida!

I was ecstatic, elated, to move to paradise. Crystal clear waters, aqua blue surf. Its summer all year round, sure there’s rain and hurricane season what could possibly have me worried about those? I’m from sunny Southern California where it never rains and all we have to worry about is an occasional wind gust and the earth shaking violently and unexpectedly…

Sure I was scared but I was so excited to move into a new place with the man who I was so in love with. By this time we had expanded our little trio and now had three dogs, making us a family of five. We had Forrest our pitty, and Lola and Luna, twin mut pups from Sarah’s two dogs Princess and Chubby. Luna was my baby, my little puff nut fluff ball. There’s not a day goes by where I don’t think about my fluffy white little cotton ball baby.

But our little family of five was so excited to be moving all the way down to Florida. The move would consist of driving all of us down the coastline in a caravan. One big U HAUL and the rest of us driving all of our vehicles. One overnight stop in Alma Georgia to visit their family and their mother, who left in January due to medical issues and “being cruelly treated and forgotten by Sarah” *shrug, this whole family drama I just started plugging my ears to at this point* In total it took us 2 days to drive from Carthage, North Carolina to Port St. Lucie, Florida. Sarah was able to get a brand new 4 bedroom home, thanks to Brandon helping with money. Josh and I on the other hand were given $2k to work with to get settled. Only problem was, there wasn’t anything on the market that was readily available and up to our standards. (Or who would allow 3 dogs, one being a pit bull mix)

We started our move to Florida on a slightly rocky but wonderful beginning. We had basically two weeks off from work, and let me tell you I was reveling in the fact that I didn’t have to work, I was already overworked and I hadn’t even started to be overworked yet at Dixie Cream. We were stuck in one of the rooms at Sarah's temporarily until we could find a place. It reminded us a lot of when we first started dating. When Josh and I would get sick of being on the back porch or dealing with the kids, or since we didn’t go out much since money was tight, we retreated to our room for naps, cuddles, and quiet but passionate love making. I think we had more sex in those two weeks than the 7 months we lived together. The first week in Vass we did a lot, we had nothing else to do, no wifi, no TV. You wonder why people in the olden days had so many freaking children, there was nothing else better to do to pass the time away, might as well pass it with the most fun activity God created. At least nowadays we have protection or else I’d have been screwed…no pun intended....maybe.

But besides us retreating for a lovers rendezvous, we were incessantly out searching for a new place to live. Even on my birthday. And everyone knows how seriously I take my birthday. I thought my last birthday, getting broken up with was bad enough, no this one he didn’t even get me a birthday present, wanted to go metal detecting at the beach instead of go swimming-and let me tell you it was the most aqua blue crystal clear water you could ever imagine-and then pushed dinner so far back that we went to a restaurant an hour before they closed. I honestly don’t even remember if we went back to our room for birthday sex, I honest to God think I was so upset, of course I didn’t show it, but I think I was so upset I just went straight to bed. I wanted to go out dancing, like real dancing, or go down to Miami and experience the Memorial Day clubbing going on. But nope. And having not gotten me a present...that stuck...that got filed away into the ever growing list of things I could bring up in an argument, the ever growing list of grievances…

We were two weeks into Florida and already I was getting annoyed, resentful, done with all this shit. And shit hadn't even started...

June 1st was when Sarah got full ownership of Dixie Cream Donuts. June 1st is when my life rapidly spiraled downward. June 1st is when I became the most overworked and underpaid dog to ever come into existence in the world of making some goddamn motherfucking donuts. The lure of, you’ll just be baking, there are already employees there, but you will be on salary, and you will also get tips. What absolute maddening bullshit if I ever did hear something. But you know what, I believed it. I believe every single word of poison that came out of both Josh and his sisters mouth. That this donut shop was going to change our lives, we could retire in 10-15years from all the money we will be making from this shop. Josh you get to receive 35% of the company at the end of each month, Alysha you get to be on salary and make tips, it's going to be a huge pay increase compared to North Carolina.

Lies. All of it lies.

One week of being at the shop in Fort Pierce, and we fired everyone except one person who we kept on as our only weekend person. You know who got the other people jobs? Me.

It started off slow, I wasn’t touching dough yet. But I knew. I even told the one employee that we kept, “As soon as I touch dough and learn to cut donuts, he is going to leave me here alone.” And I was right.

Backtracking again, I come from living in Irvine, California. America’s safest city ranked 5 years in a row. We moved down to Florida, which already is a crazy place, but then we work and find a place to live in Fort Pierce, Florida. The ghetto of the ghetto. Take Compton x30, have it meth fuck skid row and the baby it gets out of that add a little bit of Vegas whackados x20. That’s Fort Pierce.

I knew, the instant I learned how to cut donuts, his sheer laziness shrouded in “I trust you baby” would take over and he would leave me at the shop alone.

Take what I explained about the process of making donuts earlier, and now add on top of that selling donuts at the cash register to people, while cleaning up the kitchen, washing all of the trays, sweeping, mopping, and throwing away leftover donuts, AND counting down the register and doing daily paperwork for closeout. We would get to work anywhere between midnight at 2:30 in the morning. He would leave me alone at the shop to finish up the day until 2:30pm. Still to this day I haven’t a single idea as to what he did all day. Maybe he was telling the truth when he said he went home and slept all day. Or maybe it was a lie, because there would be days he would say he went home after work but as soon as I walked in, there was still dog shit on the floor, trash everywhere, and not a single thing picked up. Exactly how I left it that morning. He would say he was driving around town, doing what? I will never know. At that point, I was just happy he answered my phone calls and would come to pick me up at 2:30pm. There were sometimes he would sleep through my phone calls and I wouldn’t get picked up from the shop until 3:30pm. He was such a heavy sleeper. And an angry, angry, aggressive bear if you tried to wake him or ask him a question in his sleep. He was never physically abusive to me. But when I tried to wake him up in his sleep, he punched and kicked me a few times. I cried the most when he would yell at me in his sleep. He was so angry, and all I wanted to do was to get him off the damn couch and into bed with me so I could be wrapped in his arms. Or picked up from work so I could spend time with him. I would be at work all day, thinking of what groceries I needed for the nights meal, or stopping at the laundromat for a few hours to get some fresh work clothes. And it never worked out the way I wanted. We would always end up doing what he wanted to do. Which consisted of either going over to his sisters for way too many hours for paperwork and weed, or his mothers for weed too, and just chilling, when all I wanted was to go home and spend time with my dogs and my lover and not deal with another soul...It was always what he wanted. Even when we would go out on the very RARE occasion we were able to go out late. It was to the same dive bars with old retired people and pool tables; filled with cigarette smoke and lingering eyes on the curly haired girl who absolutely looked like she did not belong in a place of such filth and grimy repetitive routines of karaoke pool halls.

Then the hurricane didn’t happen. Hurricane Dorian, a hurricane so large that even categorizing it as a Cat5 is too small for how large this thing was. A Cat5 maxes out at 150mph, Dorian reached over 200mph. There was no label for this hurricane, and it was headed straight for our humble bungalow that overlooked the marina. Our house was built in the 1940s, a quaint little blue house on the edge of the ghetto, tucked away in a forgotten part of town, since the road was blocked thanks to a dead man who died on the train tracks. Our front door opened up to the marina boat yard, and just over the boats, if you stood on your tippy toes you could see the river and Hutchinson Island. We had an enormous backyard, perfect for our 3 pups. Our backyard was full of lush plant life, and a 100+ year old Banyan tree that gave wondrous shade to all the growing plants and our back porch. We had a mango tree, surinam tree, pineapples, and some wild cabbage. It was, in every sense of the words, a beach bungalow. It was tiny but adorable. And it would have worked out if things hadn’t started falling apart at the seams so early on into moving in. We had so many things, yet barely any furniture. I wanted to get an organized storage space out of the front room, I drew up some mock blueprints as to how to do this. He was the handyman after all. Nothing came about it. We lived out of unlabeled boxes for months. I bought a bedframe and it took 3 months for him to take it out of the box and put it together. Our dining room table was just a table for paint. (I did enjoy our painting nights, I got to teach him that his paintings didn’t have to be perfect, and that slowing down wasn’t a bad thing) My oil paints probably ruined the lovely wooden table we got from our employee. The dogs completely ruined the couch but he still slept on it. I had plans to rearrange the bedroom in order for our clothes to fit better since there was no storage space at all in this house, again nothing came about it, we lived by one single hanging rack and a 9 cube organizer.

And then came Dorian. I had two full trash bins, and we were under evacuation, we only had time to bring everything inside, and put the two trash bins outside. We had only enough time to pack the essentials, left everything else behind. Our quaint 1940s home was even unsafe in tropical storms, let alone an uncategorizable hurricane. I dropped nearly a grand to get all of our supplies in order to survive the aftermath of a giant hurricane coming. I even bought the very last inflatable mattress, which was a queen with lift-able headrests. And an entire carton of cigarettes so he wouldn't go too long without a smoke.

Then the hurricane didn’t happen. We went straight back to work, didn’t even go home, just straight to work from Sarah’s house to make donuts for the rest of Fort Pierce in their fear that we might still get hit. But it never came. It sat over the Bahamas for 24hrs bringing the ever beautiful beaches to ruin. And then moved straight up to hit the coast of South Carolina, and then New York.

I dropped nearly a grand on our survival, I dropped money I really didn’t have just in the off chance we would survive that behemoth in the sky. I never got a single penny in return. 

Even when we went grocery shopping to restock the fridge I emptied in case it would be weeks until we could return, I got no money back from him.

The man I loved, the man who was actually my boss. The man who made $720 a week and 35% of the company at the end of the month and I never saw a cent of his money. And I didn’t get anything in return. But he asked me to go get him a pack of cigarettes for him because he didn’t want to put pants on and was too tired to move, and so I would go and get them for him. And still wouldn’t get anything in return. 

I worked out the math. I worked 7 days a week, on a “salary” of $520 a week “plus tips”. That totals out to $5.77/hr. I was working 7 days a week at $5.77/hr, I paid all of my student loans, my Adobe and Spotify subscriptions, my gym membership (that I went to 4 times in 3 months because he would never take me nor let me drive his truck) I paid our electricity and rent on time, and he would occasionally pay me back in cash immediately. And then I would still shell out $40 for laundry because he would wait until 3 weeks worth of laundry had built up and he had worn the same underwear 3 times already. I still shelled out $150 on groceries that I cooked and cleaned up after for him and I. And everyday I would clean up the garbage that would get torn into because I didn’t have a trash bin because the two bins I had were still in the backyard from when Dorian was going to hit us, still full of trash.

I was on the verge of ending it.

I had a plane ticket.

September 15th.

I had a plane ticket.

I was overworked. Underpaid. Unloved. Unappreciated. Verbally abused. In full isolation. No friends. No family. I wanted out.

I.Had.A.Way.Out. And I STILL held on to this glimmer of hope that it would all work out. I thought the plane ticket would scare him. And it did. For a moment.

“Why? Why get into a relationship if you aren’t going to give effort? We were supposed to be equals and yet I feel like I am the only one giving effort. Why self prophecy that this isn't going to work out, and then not fight your own prophecy to make it work? Why not give such a simple effort to make me happy? I ask for such simple things Josh! I shouldn’t have to beg you to come to bed with me, I shouldn’t have to beg for sex with my own boyfriend, I don’t even care about the sex anymore. I just want to be held by you, to cuddle, to be given affection. I work longer hours and days than you at YOUR company and you cant even wash a dish or two? I can't live like this I'm going home.”

“Don’t go, please don’t go. Stay. We can work this out, I love you, you are the best thing to ever happen to me. I will fight for this relationship if it’s the last thing I do. Please don’t go.”

“....Okay I’ll stay...if you say you will fight and change, even though we have had this argument countless times….if you truly want this...show me….”

If anything it just got worse from there.

I was unemployed for two weeks. Two very long weeks. Honestly Assassin's Creed is what saved my life the last two months I was in Florida.

I was unemployed for two weeks, and every single morning when I would wake up around 9am, like a normal human being not having to work at 2 in the morning, I would pick up the trash littering my house thanks to the dogs ripping into the trash bag that hung from the door handle in the kitchen. I would sit on my phone scrolling through indeed, typing out my new resume with no way to print it. I had to wait for him to come home, and I so wanted to go out and do things, like visit the aquarium, or go to the beach and fall asleep to the waves crashing under the summer sun. But because I was Sarah and Josh’s workhorse, and once I told Sarah I was leaving then the next I wasn’t she didn’t allow me to work back at the shop. And because I did the work of 5 people, even though when I worked there I begged them to hire just one person, just one, to do the cleaning so I wouldn’t have to, they no longer had me there anymore. So Josh stayed longer, worked longer hours, and would come home tired. And sleep 90% of his day off away. So when he came home, I was so excited and wanted to talk about cool things I saw online, or wanted to go grocery shopping, or visit a mall. I got greeted with a heavy sigh, a plop on the couch, Joe Rogan or conspiracy theory videos, and snoring within 30 mins of him coming home. By the last two months of me being in Florida I didn’t talk very much with him. There was nothing to talk about. We stopped talking long before those moments though. I just hadn’t realized until I was home alone all day. What else is there to talk about when you work, live, sleep and breathe with the person you are in love with every single day. You run out of things that spark interest. You lose the feeling of, hey let's try something new, especially when your newfound intrigue is greeted with disgust, a steadfast no, or a blatant slap to the face that we obviously aren't going out tonight because he hasn't moved from his spot on the couch for 3 hours now.

My music is a very deep and obvious sign into my inner thoughts and feelings, whether I am aware of it or not. For the last four months of me being in Florida there were two songs I liked to listen to, specifically when Josh wasn’t home, because I knew he would give me shit if he heard them.

“All I Do is Sit Inside My House All Day” and “Suicidal Thoughts” from Josh A and IamJakeHill. And if that isn’t a blatant window into my soul in those months I don’t know what else is. There was another song, in which I quoted earlier in this piece, “I fall in love too easily, I fall in love too fast, I fall in love so terribly hard for love to ever last…”

Again, I will say, Assassin's Creed saved my life. If I hadn’t started playing AC2 on Josh’s PlayStation 2 and gotten absolutely swept away with Ezio’s story line and the beauty of ancient Italy and being able to sneak around assassinating bad guys, I would have killed myself. And I don't say that lightly. Every day, since September 15th, a little life from my soul faded away. All we would do is fight, and argue, or awkwardly sit on the couch together doing our own thing. I would beg for him to come to bed, ⅖ times I would be successful, and even then it was him on the base of the bed watching his videos, and he would fall asleep the wrong way on the bed. He would hint at wanting to make love to me but by the time he got home he was too tired or too dirty and would end up falling asleep anyways. I gave up thinking I would sleep with him every again. We did here and there but there was always a disconnect. I felt used by that point.

Due to such limiting factors of not having a car, and an unreliable boyfriend who wouldn’t let me drive his truck anyways, my job search was limited to what was within safe walking distance. I still carried two knives on me no matter what. It's the ghetto.

My options were 4 places: A gas station, another gas station, CVS, or a drive thru liquor store. I applied at the liquor store, as it was the closest and I didn’t have to cross a major highway to get to it. I got the job the day of my interview. 3 days a week at $8/hr. And that was, by far, the most whoreorizing and degrading job I have ever had in my entire life. And I was only there for a month.

Disgusting guys rolling up, with an AK47 in the middle console, their bro rolling a blunt in the passenger seat, the driver licking his lips at me saying, 

“Hey mama, what’s your sexy ass doin’ in this window and not doin me? You busy later?” 

To which I had to maintain my composure every single time and lie saying, “Sorry, I’m married, thank you though.”

“Aw c’mon that don’t mean shit. Don’t you want some side n*gga?”

“Here’s your booze. Thank you, have a nice night”

“Whateva gurl I’ll try again next week.”

Abso-fucking-lutely degrading. Luckily I only worked three days...but I also only worked three days. So I was home a lot more than my boyfriend. My job hours were normal, 10am-6pm. I could cross the street to go home with enough light for it to be safe. Come home, and hope on the playstation. Most nights I would either come home to an empty house, he hadn’t been home all day, I could tell. There would be certain signs that would tell me if he had been home at all or not. If the scent of cigarettes was stronger, there were new soda cans with ash on them on the cocktail table, if the remotes had been moved, if there was a new plate that was dirtied by some snack, or if there was a new pile of clothes by the couch… If none of those things were there, I knew he hadn’t been home all day. Our poor dogs stuck inside for at least the 8hrs that I was at work. And no, I would never know what he was up to all day. I know he had a previous gambling problem, but I nipped that early on when we were in NC. But it is legal in FL, and I still wonder if that’s where his money went….or just to weed...or if he really did just drive around all fucking day.

Having my shifts start at 10, I would usually be up until midnight or until he had to go to work in the morning, he would be fast asleep and so I could make private phone calls to my mother about what was going on. They saw it coming faster than I did. My therapist caught on to his behaviour long before I ever did, that he was toxic, verbally abusive, that he was controlling and his sister manipulative. It took a long time for my mom and I to get to the closeness we are now. To have the relationship we have now. It's been rough. But she helped me through this so much. And whenever he would say that she brainwashed me as a child, forced me onto ADD pills when that “shit fucks up your body” and that I was “still under her mind control and she still has power over you” always hurt. To say things like “oh I’m never going to California, I’m never going to visit your family if they are anything like your mother.” It killed me. When all we ever did was spend time doing the things he liked, and spending time with his crazy family. And not want to reciprocate. I played AC2 all the way up until the second week of November, when the PS2 crashed. I was left home alone for 80% of the week. Alone with my thoughts, and my music, and the strong suggestions of my parents that I need to think about my future, and if this is truly what I want for the rest of my life.

To sit at home, wondering why the man I love, the man I gave everything to, all of me, why he doesn’t want to give such simple efforts in return. Why I have to beg for attention and intimacy and never get it in return. Why the man I fell in love with brought me so far from family, and isolated me from everything. Why the man I love wouldn’t want to treat me with such care and love and selfless adoration the way I do for him. Why every morning I wake up wondering if I can even get through the day, or if the blade I keep strapped to my body in case some rando from the ghetto streets outside were to come into my house and hurt me, if the blade I keep on my person will be sharp enough to end my pain. If leaving and starting all over for the third time in a year will be worth it in the long haul. 

November 9th,

I made a call, while the man I loved lay sleeping in bed, after begging him to come watch his show in the bedroom, and him finally falling asleep wrapping me in his arms. I snuck my way outside and called my parents. They were so happy on the phone, spending time with family and friends, like I would have been too if I was with them. But instead was calling, to ask if they could send me home. If there was any way I could come home sooner than 2 weeks from now for thanksgiving. If there was anyway I could come home and try again because I can’t be here anymore, and it’s killing me, and I can’t last 2 weeks.

They gave me a day to think about it. I had to say it for myself, it wasn’t their decision, it was mine. The last time I called like this I cancelled last minute because his words clouded my judgement and I listened to his pleas. I took the day to rule out the pros and cons. I took a day to really think about if this man was really everything I made him out to be. It’s a terrible thing when you realize the man you once loved is now a stranger. It's an even more terrible thing when you know that the man you love, who you know loves you just not in any way shape or form as much as you love him, is going to realize that now you are the stranger, and that you are going to make a very painful and difficult and traumatic event happen in his already traumatized and horrible past. That you are going to add to his already endless pain. That you are the one...that is going to break his heart.

November 10th,

I called in the morning, early CA time, he was already at work making donuts. It had been off between us the past few days. He knew something was up, but I was instructed not to say a word. I barely lasted two days not telling him anything. And the disconnect had already begun.

My dad answered the phone in such a loving and soft way, it was exactly what I needed...

“Hi sweetheart, how are you doing? Have you made up your mind at all or do you still need more time? We are ready for you whenever you are.”

“I…I need to come back home.”

“Is this your decision?”

“Yes ....I can’t stay here any longer…*the tears welled up in my eyes and my voice began to croak* because I know that if I do it will kill me and I can’t live like this. Please bring me home.”

“Okay, okay. I will send mom a text and she will send you flight information as soon as she gets it, okay? Are you already packed up?”

“*sniffles* yeah, I have 2 carry on sized bags, a duffel bag, and a backpack....I wish I could bring more, there's so much stuff I don't want to leave…”

“I know sweetie, I know, but what is most important is that we get YOU safely home. Things can be replaced, you are irreplaceable”

I got a call later that afternoon from Josh, asking if he should even come home because I might be leaving or not. I didn’t give him a direct answer, just if he can come home if he wanted to. He didn’t until late afternoon. And when he did, I got a message from my mother.

“Your shuttle comes to get you at 8:45am, your flight is out of West Palm Beach at 11:30am. We love you, keep us updated. We can’t wait to see you tomorrow boo.” “So that’s it then…” I muttered. “So that’s it what?”

I took a deep breath, and read him the text my mom had sent me. I couldn’t bear to keep it hidden from him any longer. Somehow I thought he deserved to know. That he needed to know.

“So you lied to me this whole time, you knew you were leaving and you didn’t tell me. You just made up that stupid lie that you were thinking things over and had a decision to make? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Of course he was angry. And disconnecting. He had already told me days ago that he was going to start hardening his heart towards me to ready himself for me leaving. He saw it coming too, and he knew it.

“I wasn’t lying, I was telling the truth. I had to think things over and I came to a decision this morning.” “And you're leaving tomorrow morning? No that’s a fucking lie, that shit you had planned, YOU'RE NOT LEAVING. YOU CAN'T LEAVE. WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME. I LOVE YOU.”

Again the same argument, over and over again.

“Why? Why get into a relationship if you aren’t going to give effort? We were supposed to be equals and yet I feel like I am the only one giving effort. Why self prophecy that this isn't going to work out, and then not fight your own prophecy to make it work? Why not give such a simple effort to make me happy? I ask for such simple things Josh! I shouldn’t have to beg you to come to bed with me. I just want to be held by you, to cuddle, to be given affection. I do everything for you. EVERYTHING. I HAVE GIVEN YOU ALL OF ME. THERE IS NOTHING OF ME LEFT TO GIVE. MY WELL HAS RUN DRY JOSH. I AM AN EMPTY SHELL. You wanted the old Alysha back? Well guess what Josh, she isn’t here anymore. There is barely any of me left. What more do you want from me? My life?! I don’t even have one here! I’m sorry…”

I went to work in tears that night. Called my manager and told her I was leaving due to a domestic emergency, and also told her I might not work the entire night.

To which I then received a phone call from Josh, crying asking me to dip out on work so that we can spend one last night in each others arms before he never sees me again. And I idiotically said yes. And it is forever ingrained in my mind. The cries of the man I loved. The cries of the man I gave everything to. The pleas of the man who for one last night held me so tightly than he had ever held me before in the hopes it would keep in in Florida. The quiet crying pleas of the man I spent almost 2 years with, wailing in the night for me to not go, to not leave him. And my cries in return just never ending-ly saying I’m sorry. But I have to go. I didn’t even sleep that night. He just held me tighter and tighter and all I can think about is why he couldn't have done this every night? Why couldn't he put as much effort into trying to keep me here, now, why couldn't he do that every night and day? Why give me an excuse to call out of work only to try and keep me from leaving, why not make an excuse for me to call out of work to woo me into loving him again? Why wait for the last hours. The last minutes. The last seconds. And as I'm leaving and getting into the shuttle, he kisses me goodbye, puts on his sunglasses and says goodbye as if I was just leaving on a trip, because he doesn't want to look like such a fool in front of a total stranger…

I wish I could say it ended there at the shuttle...but it didn’t. Before the shuttle came, I was pleading to him that I was sorry, and that I didn’t want to do this but I had to. And somehow his pleas got me on my knees into begging that we could try long distance, see if that could work. Maybe he could come to California and start a new life with me. Somehow that where we left it off...and when I got to CA I was still under his control.

But as I finally got to be in my mother and father's embrace again, a little piece of my soul came back. A little flicker of a hint of a spark came from the ashes. And as I told my extremely summarized story to friends and family I felt that I had made the right choice. I felt like I was back where I needed to be. I had a future here, I had family and friends within an arm's reach, and not half a world away.

And the flicker became sparks, and the ashes began to glow bright, a flame beginning to burn out of the ashes.

I called him...still under his control but breaking free, finally. And ended it. It was too much of a fairy tale, that it would work like this. He was always the one telling me I need to stop living in a fantasy and live in reality. I guess I learned something from him. My dad walked in on our conversation...circulatory argument, really. About the same things over and over again.

“I love you Alysha, you are the greatest thing that ever happened to me. But you’re a bitch for leaving me like this. I'm surrounded by your belongings what the fuck am I supposed to do with this? Just throw it away?! I love you! I want to fight for us to make it work but you fucking abandoned us!”

My father told me he was a dick, and the short phone conversation he overheard from us was a textbook example of abuse from a significant other. I blocked him on every social platform imaginable. And waited patiently and anxiously for the one thing that tied me to them still to come in the mail…..my W2s.

The long and anxious wait ended...finally….and as I opened the letter with all of my documents I was filled with an overwhelming sense of emotion that confused me all to hell. This was it...it was really here...the last piece that was tying me to them and it was finally in my grasp. There is nothing else to bind myself to him anymore. Nothing else from Florida that can bring me pain or suffering or fear. It's over. It’s been over relation-ally for three months now. But legally...it's done.

I’m still processing the pain of it. The sheer torment I went through. I still don't know how I survived everything I went through. My memory is horrible right now with my brain trying to process the trauma, deleting things from memory due to how painful it is, that now I just am terrible at remembering almost everything. It will haunt me for an eternity. Until one day it won’t. And I hope that day is sooner than later...because this truly was hell to have gone through.

I don't trust myself anymore. I don't trust other people. I am terribly, terribly afraid of love. The last 3 relationships I have been in I have jumped into, with barely any time to get to know the person before making it “official.” Never again. Next time will take a long time. Deep established friendship first, before I can even consider beginning to feel again. I don’t know if I will ever love the same way again too...To give absolutely everything I have to the table. To give all of me to the point where there was none of me left...I loved him with all of my heart, soul, and being. And it ruined and broke me, knowing I broke that man, that I crushed his soul and shattered his heart...along with mine....

He called me a liar once for saying I was his ride or die, but I was leaving him. But what he did not realize is that I did die for him. I died every day...for four months...knowing I was going to end my life if I stayed there any longer….killing myself for a man who would never love me...the way I loved him…

[your-iron-lung]

Mixed Up 9 | Anyone Can Play Guitar |

Chapter Word Count: 4018

Pairings: Zoro/Sanji

Genre: Comedy, Drama, Romance

Chapter Warning: Strong Language

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8,

Next Chapter: 10

When Monday came around, Sanji found himself at a loss with what he was supposed to do. He'd half expected Zoro to either send him an e-mail asking him to hang out or for the oaf to drop by on his own while on his way to work to harass him, but when the day came and went without a single word or irritating action from the punk, he became confused, and then became confused as to why he felt confused.

They weren't friends, and only became acquaintances through awkward and forced interaction. Still, being brushed off so completely left him feeling abandoned, and he wasn't sure why he felt he should feel that way exactly. Just the other day he'd been wishing for contact with Zoro to come to an end, and yet today he found himself wondering why his wish had come true.

He kept an ear out to listen for when Zoro came and went, but even though he heard him loudly coming and going, Sanji didn't make a move to engage him in the stairwell. He wasn't sure what he even wanted to say to him, and wasn't sure when Chopper was or wasn't with him and certainly didn't want to cause a scene involving the monstrous dog.

Confused, (and still confused about that), he spent the day cooking and smoking and watching tv alone. If Usopp's art show was Wednesday, and Zoro had promised to take him along, then surely the punk would at least try to contact him by Tuesday to work out the details. The man was an idiot, but surely he wasn't stupid enough to think that Sanji was some kind of a mind-reader who could anticipate what was expected of him. Hell, Sanji didn't even know where the gallery was, and he sure as shit wasn't going to be pleased with him if Zoro came down to get him with only a four minute warning before they were wanted at the show.

With this logic in mind, he relented himself to sleep and waited to see what Tuesday brought him, though it became increasingly clear to him as he made himself breakfast that morning that Zoro wasn't going to initiate anything with him if he didn't have to, and maybe, just maybe, he really was that dull. Scowling down fiercely into his plate of pancakes, Sanji wished he'd gotten Nami's number when he'd had the chance. If Zoro wasn't going to follow up on his promise by giving him details about what they were meant to do tomorrow, Sanji bet Nami at least would give him the specifics.

As he ate, he noted that his mood was interfering with what should have been a very sweet breakfast, but was instead leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He rolled his eyes, admiring how much Zoro was able to piss him off without even having to be around to do it. As he spread some syrup over his pancakes, he put his troubles with Zoro aside and tried to enjoy his own cooking before the punk could completely ruin his morning.

After he'd finished eating and cleaned his station, he continued the rest of his morning routine to bathe and shave and dress himself for the day, though as he stood before the bathroom mirror- adjusting his tie and appreciating his form- he gradually came to realize he had nowhere to go.

He was still becoming used to the idea that he no longer had to go to work, and became annoyed that there was nowhere he was needed so the could show himself off. Feeling that this was all somehow Zoro's fault (even though it was rightly all Zeff's), Sanji grabbed his coat and cigarettes and stepped outside for a smoke.

The rain that had afflicted the area over the last couple days had finally passed by, but the weather was still dreadfully chilled. The clouds remained cluttered and grey in the sky, and held in the unpleasantness the rain had brought with it. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, he looked around for one of his usual smoking partners but found himself alone with the threatening atmosphere. He pulled out his pack regardless and withdrew a cigarette that he then struggled to to get lit in the wind, and while he stood there, he wondered if he was going to spend his day as productively as he'd spent the last.

Finally having won the battle to light his cigarette, he bared his teeth at the wind and tried to enjoy his smoke as best he could given the circumstances. Alone, time that usually passed by quickly for him when shared with other smokers seemed to drag now. He quickly became bored, but had no desire to stub his cigarette out early now that he'd gone through all the hassle of trying to light it.

Slipping his pack back into his pocket, his hand brushed up against his phone, igniting an interest within him. Deciding it might be worthwhile to check, he withdrew it to see if he'd either received some word from Zoro or an apology from Zeff, but found himself the recipient of neither.

Unlocking the screen, he navigated to his email window anyway and refreshed it, hoping to see some new message that his phone had failed to alert him to. There was nothing new amidst the filtered inbox, causing his mood to descend further into annoyed territory that made his eyebrow twitch. He even checked through his spam folder, but didn't see Zoro's name anywhere between the emails advertising free viagra and other genital aids.

Huffing angrily on his cigarette, Sanji brought up the window to compose a new email and addressed it to Zoro's ridiculous address, but paused when he got to the subject line and the message body boxes, wondering what exactly it was he wanted to say. Blowing out smoke through his nostrils, he was about to put his phone away when an idea struck him that would both alleviate him of his boredom and give him an excuse to talk to Zoro face to face.

He left the subject line blank as he typed out, 'where do you work?', and hit send. Satisfied, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and remained standing outside alone until he'd finished his smoke.

When he went back inside, he checked his phone again to see if Zoro had a reply, but saw nothing as he took his coat off and hung it on the coatrack by the door. Anticipation built up within him as he waited for Zoro to reply, though he wouldn't get one until thirty minutes later. When his phone finally buzzed with the response, he excitedly checked but quickly found himself disappointed when he read Zoro's curt answer.

'dont even think about it'

"Well, I am," he said to himself lamely in retort.

He stared down at the message and made several attempts at creating a suitable reply to send back that would illustrate why exactly they needed to talk, but found that any excuse to meet Zoro at his place of employment that he tried to come up with seemed faked and awkward, and so he left it alone. Dejected, he dropped onto his sofa and tossed his phone onto the cushion at the other end, almost missing the way the screen lit up to alert him to a new message.

Sanji looked at it crossly and let out a loud, exaggerated sigh as he leaned over to grab and check it. He stayed stretched belly down on the couch as he saw that he'd gotten another message from Zoro.

Wondering what insult the bastard had forgotten to add on to his reply, he pulled open the email and was surprised to see that the message was from Nami instead.

'We work at Super-Star! Guitars downtown. Google it; there's directions to the store on the website.

And bring us some lunch! Zoro wouldn't share your food last time, and it smelled delicious! I'd love to try some :p

(heart) Nami'

Her voice read the message to him three times over in his mind as his eyes scanned over each line of text. Elated, he swooned and rolled off the sofa, hearts in his eyes as he landed on the floor, clutching the phone tightly to his chest like the lovestruck fool he felt he was. She wanted to see him, even if Zoro didn't! Oh, her beauty and kindness knew no bounds. His mood elevated him off the floor, and he all but floated into the kitchen as he set about preparing meals to bring along with him, as per Nami's request.

Still spurned by Zoro's comment of how his cooking had been just 'okay' the last time he'd shared it with him, he created a boring, chilled meat sandwich for the tasteless bassist and was then left wondering what sort of food would impress the gracious Nami.

Mentally stocked with the Baratie's entire menu, he tried to pick something off of it that would be quick to make and suit her tastes, even though he knew absolutely nothing in terms of what she liked to eat and what she didn't. Not knowing her on a personal level made making decisions about what to make for her difficult, and as he looked around his kitchen for ideas, his eye landed on a piece of fruit he thought she may have made mention of the other day.

"A-ha!" he exclaimed, picking up the orange he'd found and set about creating a simple, yet elegant, tasteful fruit salad he was certain Nami would appreciate.

While he pulled up directions to the store on his phone, he packed the lunches and some disposable silverware into spare tupperware containers and then put on his coat and left. Locking his apartment after him, he hurried out to his car and excitedly began the drive to Super-Star! Guitars.

The packaged meals sat in the passenger seat as he drove, and he noticed on the way that the guitar shop was relatively close to the Baratie. He kept an eye on the navigation as it lead him along, a growing sense of anticipation brewing within him as he imagined Nami's reaction to his food, becoming so caught up in his fantasy that he nearly drove past the store once he turned onto the street.

He recognized Zoro's motorcycle parked on the sidewalk, attached to the bicycle rack and rolled his eyes at the way the green-haired idiot was crass enough to believe himself above basic road regulations. Coasting slowly and looking for a place to park, he found that every store-front spot was taken, leading him to drive down to the end of the street to an advertised public lot. Parking as close to the entrance as he could, he quickly got out of the car and grabbed up the lunches he'd prepared and then swiftly locked his car to make his way back down the street as casually and quickly as he could, hardly able to suppress his grin as he walked to the store.

Super-Star! Guitars was bigger than it'd looked from his car, such that he was momentarily overwhelmed when he finally approached it. Ignoring that it was as big as a Best Buy (and apparently just as popular), Sanji opened the glass door and stepped inside, and even though he knew it was a place that sold guitars, he still found himself surprised by the sheer amount of instruments that littered the sales floor and hung displayed on the walls. He stood in place as he looked around, taking in everything he saw until Nami caught his attention.

"Sanjay!" she exclaimed from behind her position at the counter, grinning cheerily and waving him over.

"Sanji, actually," he politely corrected, smiling as he skirted past a few exiting customers and placed the containers of food in front of her. He glanced around briefly, looking around for Zoro, but didn't see him anywhere in the immediate vicinity.

"Sorry, I was watching Sanjay and Craig before work," she said sheepishly as she stood up and looked at the containers hungrily. "Oh man, did you really bring us lunch?"

"Of course!" he declared, turning his attention back around to dote on her. "I can't resist fulfilling the desires of a woman as beautiful as you."

Much to his delight, she laughed as he picked out which tupperware container held her salad. He pulled the top off and presented it to her, garnering a smile of delight as she looked down at what he'd made for her.

"Oh wow, it looks delicious," she said as he provided her with a fork. She wasted no time in digging in, puncturing as much lettuce and fruits onto the end of her fork as she could before shoving it all in her mouth.

Sanji watched as her face morphed into an expression of ecstasy and admiration and felt his heartbeat quicken in response.

"Holy shit, this is good; how did you make a salad taste so good? You really are a five-star chef!"

Pleased, he grinned but didn't reply so as to let her enjoy her lunch. He glanced around for Zoro again as he picked up the container holding his sandwich and then asked, "So, where's moss for brains?"

"Oh, mm, he's, ah, hang on."

Putting the fork down, Nami wiped her mouth clean of the dressing that had smeared across it and then leaned forward to point across the store.

"See that banner that says lessons? He's back there doing that," she said, and though she sounded serious, Sanji couldn't help but snort and quirk his brow.

"Lessons? The guys a music teacher?" he asked incredulously.

Nami laughed as she recognized his expression and nodded earnestly, grabbing her salad and sitting back in her chair.

"Well, he doesn't teach theory or anything like that, but he's damn good at all kinds of guitar," she remarked with a wink. "He looks scary, but he's really good at what he does. He's in a lesson right now, but if you talk to Brook back there he'll let you wait around 'till he's done."

"Thank you, my beautiful darling! I'll come back and see you on my way out," Sanji said with a flourish, bowing a bit before heading in the direction Nami had pointed out to him.

He took great care in avoiding the instruments on display as he made his way towards the large lessons banner. Peering down the hallway, he saw the oddly decorated waiting room and a small office with a man inside that he assumed was Brook.

Walking forward, Sanji took his time in progressing down the length of the hallway to admire all the various portraits of musicians that were hung along the walls. The sounds of patrons trying out guitars followed him as he moved along, thanking Zeff and his older taste in music that he was able to recognize most of the classic rock guitarists that gazed back at him. As he reached the end of the hall, he noticed that a few punk musicians had made their way onto the wall as well, and Sanji sarcastically wondered who they had to thank for that.

Criticizing the taste in tack, outdated waiting room decor, Sanji quickly walked through it to knock on the office door. Brook looked up from the computer he'd been typing into and gave Sanji a smile before he stood up to open the door.

"Hello!" he greeted, smiling broadly. "What can I help you with?"

"I'm here for Zoro," Sanji said, holding out the sandwich container to explain himself.

Brook cocked his head pleasantly and stared down at him quietly for a moment before he let out an odd laugh and beckoned Sanji to follow him back into his office.

Hesitantly, Sanji followed after him, looking back over his shoulder to the waiting room he thought he'd be sitting in. Brook sat back down in front of his computer and began typing and pulling up various windows that left Sanji to look around at the photographs he had scattered on his desk.

"What's your name?" Brook asked, causing Sanji to look back at what he was doing.

"Er, Sanji?" he replied, watching as Brook typed it into the window he had open.

"Last name?"

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his confusion, Sanji floundered before saying, "It's Black, but, uh, why do you need that? Is this protocol for every visitor he has?"

"Well, you're a new student, aren't you?" Brook replied as he entered in his surname, swiveling around in his chair to look up at him expectantly when he'd finished. "I'm merely putting you in the system, is all."

Sanji's mouth formed an 'o' as he realized that Brook had mistaken him as one of Zoro's potential clients.

"Oh, no, no, I'm just here to drop off his lunch, I'm not signing up for lessons-" he tried to clarify, when Brook cut him off.

"You simply must! I've already input your name and created a student profile for you, it's only a matter of picking a day and time now," Brook said, chuckling. "And trust me, it's much easier to put you in than to take you out."

"I don't… I don't even have an instrument to learn how to play," Sanji tried to explain, though his argument seemed to be falling on indifferent ears. "I'm really only here to leave him some food at Nami's request."

"Ah! You're one of Nami's friends, are you? Well, then she can vouch for Zoro as well! You don't even need an instrument; you can pick anything out here and bring it into the lesson with you."

"I-"

"I know Zoro would appreciate it. He could always use the business, and you wouldn't regret it either! Music is wonderful, and knowing how to create it is a gift for all ages."

Brook's speech was enthusiastic and encouraging, but Sanji shook his head no all the same. He was about to turn out of the office and rejoin Nami at the front to leave Zoro's food with her when his eye caught sight of one of the framed photographs on Brook's desk. Taken by surprise with what he saw, he stepped further into the office instead and leaned in close to examine the picture.

"Is this you with Jimi Hendrix?" he asked, turning towards Brook with a look of awe on his face.

Brook laughed loudly and nodded, picking up the photograph and handing it over to Sanji so he could look it over closer.

"Indeed it is! We performed at Woodstock together back in '69; we were very good friends."

"Holy shit," Sanji breathed, admiration gripping him like a vice. "Wait, did you say 'performed'?"

Handing the picture back, Brook took it and looked at it fondly.

"Ah, yes, in the days of my prime I was once called the Soul King. Jimi and I toured together frequently, and playing those festivals with him was truly an honour."

"Soul King?" Sanji asked skeptically, giving the older man a scrutinizing look. "You're the Soul King? I thought the Soul King died back in the 80's."

"Yes, well, sometimes it really is better to burn out than to fade away," Brook said thoughtfully, wistfully looking away to some of the other photographs that were aligned on his desk, immersing himself in his past. "Rust never sleeps, you know."

Taking in his words, Sanji silently looked at the other photos and saw that Brook really must have been the fabled Soul King. The appearance of the tall, thin, afroed man in the pictures was certainly younger than the man he was talking to, but age did little to deter from his more recognizable features.

"My old man loves you," Sanji commented quietly, earning a chuckle from the somber-faced has-been. "You were really famous, what're you doing working here?"

"Sharing my talent!" Brook suddenly exclaimed, standing upright with such gusto that Sanji was taken by surprise and almost knocked his head back against the wall as he scampered backwards to escape his enthusiasm. "I give lessons here, of course! The Soul King may be dead, but that does not mean his spirit can't keep sharing his gift and knowledge of music!"

"That's, very uh, noble of you," Sanji said. "But I thought Zoro was…?"

"Oh, Zoro and I teach different things! He covers guitar, bass, and some other things, while I cover other classical instruments and basic music theory, but make no mistake! If you were thinking of switching from Zoro to me, I won't have it! I already have you listed as one of Zoro's pupils."

Brook gave him a suspicious leer as Sanji started to say, "Hang on, I never said I agreed to that-!" just as the double doors opened and Zoro stepped out, guitar in hand, with a young boy.

"See you next week, Momonosuke," Zoro said, pulling on the kids ponytail affectionately, earning him an angry fist to the stomach in return.

Sanji laughed as the punk wheezed with surprise, alerting Zoro to his presence. He froze like a deer caught in the headlights, hand on his stomach as he then gave Brook a confused look before exclaiming, "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"Zoro! Language!" Brook chided sharply, which made the kid laugh as Zoro grit his teeth and tried again.

"What the hell-"

"Zoro!"

"What are you doing here?! Are you stalking me now?!"

"That's much better, but still no way to talk to your new student!" Brook said, and then laughed at the disgusted face Zoro made as both he and Sanji said in unison, "No way!"

"You can go on now, Momonosuke, I heard your father playing around on the floor." Smiling, Brook waved the child off, though Momonosuke didn't depart until he'd stuck his tongue out at Zoro, who sneered and responded by flipping him the middle finger. "Now, Sanji, I've schedule you in for Thursday, as that's the only day Zoro has free, but is that alright with you?"

Brought back to the issue of taking lessons, Sanji floundered for a moment and was about to decline Brook yet again, when he caught sight of how angry Zoro looked at the prospect of having him for a student. And, well, when he thought about it, what else did he really have to do? He had no life outside of the Baratie; no friends to hang out with, and no reason to even leave his apartment. But above all that, he knew Zeff would question what he'd done with his time off and would certainly cause a fuss if he learned Sanji hadn't at least picked up a productive hobby of some sort. Zeff wouldn't approve of him becoming a punk, but Sanji was certain that learning to play an instrument would classify as a hobby he would approve of.

Zoro's brow was furrowed, and he looked about ready to tell Brook off himself when Sanji intervened and said, "Actually, yeah, Thursdays are good for me."

"Wonderful!" Brook exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air in celebration as Zoro's face fell sheer through to the floor.

"What!" he shouted, holding his guitar up to point it accusingly between the two of them. "I said no!"

"What time best works for you?" Brook said, ignoring Zoro as he put a hand on Sanji's shoulder to lead him back into his office. "Zoro has a few openings around 5 and 6, depending on if you want to take hour long or thirty minute lessons."

"I can do hour long lessons," Sanji replied, glancing back over his shoulder to snicker evilly at Zoro who still stood frozen in a pose of accusatory rage. "6 is fine by me."

Brook laughed aloud again and then shut the door to his office before Zoro regained his senses and began trying to shout them out of finalizing their arrangements.

"You bastards! Quit making decisions without consulting me first!"

[infraredpenguin]

First Impressions - The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild

It’s usually a good sign when you sit down to play a game at 2 in the morning just to get a quick taste, only to look up and see it’s daylight outside. That’s exactly what happened last night when I first experienced the latest entry in the legendary Zelda franchise. Before I continue, I should probably say that I am playing Breath of the Wild on the Wii U, so I can’t speak to performance on that console.

Right out of the gate, I was actually pretty pissed off. Why? Well, because the Wii U gamepad has a persistent notification to switch to playing solely on its screen, and this notification is constantly fading in and out. I have a hard time dealing with stuff in the periphery of my vision, so this was extremely aggravating at first. I tried finding ways of turning off the screen or making use of my Wii Pro controllers, only for nothing to help alleviate this frankly idiotic flaw.

Thankfully, after an hour of playtime, I was so enthralled I completely forgot about my gamepad’s screen.

I will say, however, that I’m sick of companies fucking with their customer-base, doing shit like Nintendo has done here, essentially gutting the Wii U version of the game (a game they were definitely selling Wii U hopes on before) to promote their new console. They definitely had map and inventory functionality on the Wii U gamepad before, as well as examples of this kind of stuff in other games like Wind Waker and Twilight Princess HD. The gutting of these features for parity with the Switch, is shameful and insulting, but I digress.

Breath of the Wild is a fantastic game, and the degradation of what could have been doesn’t change that. So, here are a few major impressions I’ve had with the game so far:

1. The world is beautiful and awe-inspiring. From the art style to the sheer, terrifying scope of it, this is a world that begs you to explore it, and BotW has provided a multitude of reasons to do so. You’re really not forced into doing anything you don’t want to. Even the starting region, the Great Plateau, despite having a critical path to it prior to opening up the rest of Hyrule, gives you a staggering amount of leeway in terms of approaching your objectives and satisfying your explorative urges. Being a huge explorer-type, myself, I am legitimately fearful of what this game is going to do to my psyche... How will I escape from the lure of the wild?

2. The lack of handholding is refreshing and well executed. With minimal guidance that you almost have to seek out yourself, the game expects you to figure things out. The ways in which different objects react to each other, how Link behaves using different tools, and other elements such as the surprisingly engaging cooking system, all encourage the player to explore in some way or another. Death is a constant companion, or at least the threat of it is if you plan on being truly adventurous. Thankfully, all of this is backed up by a surprisingly robust save system for a Zelda game, ensuring you never lose too much progress and allowing you to dictate the flow of your experience.

3. Combat is dynamic and satisfying, but ‘ho boy, the controls for this game are a battle in and of themselves. Simply put, controlling Link with the Wii U gamepad feels kind of janky, and this is coming from someone who actually quite likes the gamepad. I’ve never felt as clumsy playing the Zelda HD remakes or Xenoblade Chronicles X or any other of a multitude of Wii U games I love as I do playing Breath of the Wild. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but something just feels off, feels slightly unresponsive, and nowhere was this more apparent than in the fight against a hidden boss enemy in the starting area.

Beating this stony adversary felt like it required some arcane contortion of my hands, trying to juggle the Z-lock with the camera and jumping, running, and attacking. I blame a great deal of this on the binding of jump and run, diametrically opposed to one another on the X and B buttons. Now sure, once I went into the options and swapped them so jump was set to B and cancel/run set to X, things started falling into place a little better. Just picture trying to fight something by attacking with Y while dodge is either on B or X. One of those configurations is more natural for your thumb, plain and simple.

Unfortunately, even after some hours, I’m still not 100% in love with the control scheme. Using the wrong attack or accessing the wrong quick inventory isn’t exactly routine, but it happens often enough. Ultimately, it forces me to wonder why in the hell you can swap controls between 2 specific buttons but can’t reconfigure everything to your liking. This is nothing new with games, and is just one more way that developers disrespect their audience (especially disabled gamers, but that’s a topic for another day). There’s just no reason for it to be this way when it could be so much better.

4. That being said, there’s so much in this game to love that the janky controls are a comparatively minor concern. Once you leave the Great Plateau for the wider world it’s hard not to feel unbridled excitement for what’s waiting for you out there. This game has so far captured my sense of wonder and adventure better than any open world game I’ve played before (and I’ve played a ton). The best part is how much direct agency you have as a player, and the best example of that is in this game’s version of Ubisoft’s ICONIC™ Map Towers.

Rather than literally every other game with some form or another of a tower wot fills out your map, the Sheikah Towers expect you to do all the hard work. Sure, you climb them and it fills out your map, but only visually by drawing in some actual details into an otherwise featureless dark expanse. It reveals no Points of Interest, no objectives, and perhaps just as important, no other map towers!

Instead, you are expected to either wander aimlessly (a perfectly valid pursuit), or bring out your Sheikah Slate’s scope function, and cast your gaze all around the majestic world surrounding you from your lofty vantage. And if you do see something interesting in the distance, you simply place a marker pin from the scope and can then choose to convert that pin into different stamps on your map for future reference.

You don’t even have to be at a dedicated tower to do this!

I found myself exploring a ruined building at the top of a tall hill, thought it had a clear perspective on the surrounding locale, and decided to take out my scope for some marking right then and there. I sought out visible Sheikah Towers and marked them, as well as nearby Shrines and marked those too. I even saw some imposing foes in the distance and slapped down some skulls for future reference. The Sheikah Scope makes it a painless, and above all else, a satisfying experience.

Breath of the Wild is one of the only open world games in recent memory that actually trusts its players to their own agency, and it is infinitely better for it.

5. Right now, my favorite part of the game is easily discovering my little Korok buddies in the environment? Why, you ask? Because they are adorable, obviously... In all seriousness though, the fact that you have to keep your eye out for strangeness in your travels and solve a few mini-puzzles here and there makes them one of the best incentives for active exploration I’ve seen in a game. There may be some patterns to watch out for, but I’ve discovered at least 10 different ways for these forest fairies to manifest in the world, and I’m sure I’ll stumble across many more. I managed to find 15 of the little scamps before leaving the confines of the Great Plateau, and it was tempting to look for more!

So there you have it, my initial impressions of the latest Zelda game. Obviously it’s not perfect by any means, but I do think it has the potential to be the greatest expression of what an open world game can be if we stop trying to make everything painfully obvious.

I can’t wait to see the rest of this enormous world and how the story plays out, but who knows how long that will take...

[awkwardsha]

The D.C. Threesome pt. 3

                                        By: Shawnice Renee

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?” I quickly hopped up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nodded my head in agreeance, “Understood.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What problems were you escaping?” Al asked.

I finished my glass and poured another.

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

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

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

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

“Understood…and your parents?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my gosh! Al, I’m so sorry.”

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

“I’m ok so far- “

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

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

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

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

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

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