#miraculously it still works but the front cam is a little fucked

[sunshinelikerain]

27 feels good

[y0itsbri]

it's just a fuckin' dresser, man

To ease the pain of a Shameless-less Sunday, I wrote my first one-shot about Ian and Mickey building furniture together for their new apartment <3

word count: 1282

Mickey and Ian were finally settling into their new apartment. They had the space, sure, but no one told Mickey that picking out furniture was a lot more fucking work than he thought it would be. Wherever Mickey lived, things were already just there. Whether it be his childhood bedroom, which was practically all hand me downs from Iggy and Colin after they escaped the house, the standard juvie set, or any of the rooms in the Gallagher house, previously inhabited by god knows how many fucking Gallaghers before him. Mickey wasn’t used to owning things. But lately, Mickey was experiencing a lot of new things he never thought he would have.

After a quick trip to IKEA with only minimal arguments, “Really, Gallagher, that shit looks like it belongs at a free clinic – and that ain’t a compliment.” “Mickey, what the fuck, we’re supposed to be picking out a lamp, not scarfing down an entire plate of meatballs.” Mickey had absolutely zero regrets about the meatballs and would absolutely be going back solely for those bad boys.

Now assembling the dresser looked like a goddamn nightmare. After a few moments of bickering over who was doing what, Ian took a step back and let Mickey try his hand at putting together the fucking thing while Ian was just hovering only a couple feet away.

Ian’s face scrunched up as he rifled through a thick stack of papers next to their massive stack of empty boxes next to the door to take outside whenever they got around to it.

Mickey glanced up from the small metal tools in his hands and noticed Ian’s confused furrowed expression. He allowed himself to admire how cute his husband was for a brief moment before schooling his own creeping smirk. “What’s up, man?” He asked with a hint of amusement in his voice.

There was a too-long pause as Ian continued to study the piece of paper in his hands, flipping it over and upside down. Mickey wasn’t even expecting a response when Ian finally said, “I think we got a defective manual. None of these instructions are in fucking English.” He mumbled a bit in broken French and German before it got too much to bear.

Mickey snickered at his husband’s lame attempts to translate. “Who the fuck cares? I got this shit anyways.”

Ian twitched his head to the side and didn’t even try to stop his eyes from rolling up to the ceiling as if to say, Yeah, okay Mick.

Whatever, maybe it has been a half hour of seemingly little to no progress, but Milkoviches don’t need to read instruction to get shit done, goddamn-it. Hell, Mickey wasn’t even sure half his family knew how to fucking read.

Ian continued murmuring anyways as he scanned the page. His voice perked up with realization, “Ah hold up, introducir dos bloqueos cam en el panel central. Asegúrese de que la flecha de la leva esté apuntando al borde corto.”

Although Mickey was damned to listen to the instructions against his will, he couldn’t help but find Ian endearing. The guy was slow, but his pronunciation wasn’t the worst. Maybe he’d taken that shit in high school or something. Mickey recalled his own struggles learning Spanish in Mexico, and he wondered how well Ian would have been able to keep up if he didn’t disappear once they had finally reached the border. Whatever. Mickey pushed that thought aside. That part of his life was long over, even if he still carried the ink in his skin in the form of Lado sur siempre.

Despite his best efforts to blatantly ignore the instructions and figure it out his damn self, it’s just a dresser for Christ’s sake, Mickey found himself understanding most of the directions in Spanish, even if it was some corporate Swedish based bullshit from people who’ve never actually had to build one of their own goddamn dressers a day in their life. Mickey only sort of understood what a couple of the tools were for and tried to use those for everything, feigning confidence of some secret building skills.

Ian paused his readings to take a sip from his vanilla Coke sitting on the floor next to them, and Mickey paused unconsciously as well, too in synch with Ian than he would care to admit. He quickly continued, hoping that Ian wouldn’t pick up on the fact that he did, in fact, need the instructions. Of course, nothing got past the sly bastard and Ian smirked at him.

“Oh, so you got this all by yourself, right Mick?” Mickey could have sworn he saw Ian’s eyes fucking twinkle as he teased him.

Mickey promptly flipped him off without looking up, feeling the blush creep up on his cheeks at the idea of being caught, “You can just shut the fuck up man.”

Miraculously, for once, Ian didn’t continue, studying Mickey’s moves with a growing intensity as Mickey’s attempts at connecting the drawers were becoming more and more apparently clueless. Ian was waiting for him to crack and finally admit he needed help. Ian was prepared to wait for however long his stubborn husband decided to take.

“’ey,” Mickey mumbled, working himself up as his progress was stunted.

“Yeah?” Ian asked, pretending to have no idea what Mickey could possibly be ‘ey-ing him about.

“If you wanted to, uh, keep reading and practice your stupid Spanish, I wouldn’t mind it.”

“Yeah, okay sure Mick,” Ian triumphed. Their communication skills have definitely improved over the past few months, and even when they weren’t direct, they just got each other.

Mickey wouldn’t accept his defeat this easy and made another feeble attempt to play off his true motives. He cleared his throat and rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip, “You just sound like a fucking gringo, man.”

Ian shook his head, obviously not accepting Mickey’s excuses. But hell, his Spanish did need some practice. He plopped onto the bed beside Mickey and held up the instruction manual dramatically, the pages making a thwumping sound as it bent with the air. He continued, “Coloque y fije el lado inferior izquierdo del cajón y el lado inferior derecho del cajón utilizando tornillos de cuatro de una pulgada.”

Despite understanding most of the instructions, Mickey bullshitted his way through it and ended up with a handful of leftover parts on the floor in front of him.

Ian leaned over and glanced at the small pile, “Huh, they must not be that important.”

Mickey lightly punched him in the arm but settled next to Ian on the bed, “Oh whatever I told you I got this.”

Ian frowned and rubbed over the sore spot on his arm before throwing his heavy arm around Mickey’s shoulder, admiring the finished product, “This is perfect.”

As much as Mickey wanted to grumble about all this fucking work, he couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. It looked like a damn dresser that’s for sure. Their dresser in their room in their apartment, as husbands. He never imagined he would have all of this. He decided that he would read a thousand fucking instruction manuals if it meant he could spend the rest of his life with the dumbass ginger hanging off of him. He shifted his weight so that he was leaning into Ian’s side a bit more.

“It’s just a fuckin' dresser, man,” Mickey practically breathed the words against Ian’s tee shirt, his tone completely reflecting how he was feeling underneath the harsh words.

Mickey felt Ian press a gentle kiss onto the top of his head. But yeah, it wasn’t just a fucking dresser. They were building their life together.

[pricemarshfield]

personal problem

A Lexi x MC cheating AU, requested by @hizzieluthor​. Chapter 3/22. Read the chapter on AO3 here, or the full fic here. Rated E; minors DNI.

After an hour with a vibrator and some very vivid fantasies, Bea's worked out almost all the tension from a day spent around two of the hottest women at Belvoire, equally unattainable, both attained. Three, if you count Zoey, who greets her in the morning with a knowing smirk.

"So how'd your meeting go with Kingsley? I didn't think I'd see you until tonight."

"We got interrupted," Bea groans, sitting on one of their barstools, elbows on the table like her parents always told her not to do, head in her hands. "But she promised we could talk about it! Since I had to deal with Lexi."

"Right, such a difficult thing, to make out with a hot professor you can't get in trouble for kissing because she's not at this school," Zoey says with a little shake of her head. "Honestly."

"Oh, no, not that! God, okay, so--" Bea starts to recount her time in Ina's office, flirting with her and kissing her for like a second before the Dean fully walked in and interrupted to ask if Ina would spare her for Lexi? Like, what the fuck. Zoey gasps at all the right places in the story, especially when Bea talks about flirting with Lexi, too. "And then we made out, and guess what?"

"Dean interrupted again?"

"No! Ina called me."

Zoey's laugh is half-disbelieving, half-impressed. "Your life is completely wild, what the fuck, you've been here for less than two months! God, so did you let it go to voicemail?"

Bea knows this next part crosses the line from fun, gossipy drama to probably morally wrong, but it's Zoey, what's she gonna do, not tell her? "So I actually...picked up?"

Zoey's mouth drops completely open, and she stares at Bea like she's just said she stole the Mona Lisa. "You what?"

"No, I know, thinking back it's really dumb and honestly, kind of mean? No, not kind of. It's mean. But it seemed like a good idea? And it was really hot."

Zoey fans herself. Bea can't tell if she's joking or not. "It does sound hot. But are you, like, flirting with Lexi to get under the professor's skin or? Are you interested in her too?"

"Physically, sure," Bea says with a snort. "But as a person? No, she sucks. Ina..." She starts to smile, sees Zoey's expression soften in response. "She feels...real, you know? Like, completely outside of all this drama with the rankings and the T and Poppy."

"And also she's hot."

"So hot, oh my God."

"Okay," Zoey says. "Can I give you some possibly harsh advice?"

Bea pauses. She'll definitely deserve it, but she's not sure she wants to hear it here, in the early morning space where everything still feels light and easy and consequence-free. But it's Zoey, so. "Sure."

"If you want Ina as a partner, as more than a hookup, then you should probably stop messing with Lexi. Or with anyone--don't think I didn't see the kiss with Carter--"

"--that was mostly to mess with Poppy--"

"--and Lexi's mostly--yeah, some weird mindgame, or whatever, I don't always get you. But Ina doesn't know, right?"

"No," Bea says in a voice that comes out quieter than she meant it to.

"If you want this to work, if you really want a relationship and you're not just chasing her because she's a hot professor, you've gotta actually commit to her. And to the fact that you'll have to hide your relationship, and the fact that you'll have to be very, very careful to avoid it getting toxic. Honestly? I...nah, that's too harsh."

Bea tries to grin, keep everything funny. "What? You're on a roll, don't stop on my account."

Zoey looks at her for a long moment. Bea wants to duck away but she holds her ground. "I don't think you should date Ina. If you want to, I'll support you, because you're my best friend and I love you."

"Wow, gay," Bea mutters.

"I am literally talking you through two inadvisable relationships with two older women you shouldn't date that you seem keen on dating anyway, so glass houses. But I think you should think long and hard before you do."

Bea valiantly holds herself back from making a 'long and hard' joke and nods. "I see what you're saying. I don't necessarily agree with all of it, but I get where you're coming from, at least." After a long moment, where she can feel Zoey judging her, she adds, "Okay, I see what you mean about Lexi, I'll...stop. I mean, I won't be nice to her, but I'll stop--you know."

"Good!" Zoey says with a grin. "Then you should probably check your phone, because Kingsley's been blowing it up."

Bea glances at it, and sure enough, she has three new texts from Ina Kingsley.

Bea, I'm free whenever you are today.

We should discuss some things.

There are also some quizzes to grade. I'll be in my office for a few hours before my office hours begin.

The texts are drier than Bea after any amount of time talking to Michael, but after being interrupted by the actual literal Dean and Lexi planning on staying on campus, she gets that she wants to be careful. Besides, that's what Zoey was telling her. She has to get used to hiding some things if she wants Ina.

And she does. She really, really does.

Sounds good, Professor. I'll see you soon.

--

Bea doesn't dress up in her nicest outfit, but she is wearing her nicest non-lingerie underwear underneath it when she knocks on the door to Professor Kingsley's office. She pulls it open right away, dark circles under her eyes like she hasn't slept. She pulls Bea right in, locks the door behind her--ooh, finally a breach of propriety--and says, "I'm so sorry about Lexi."

"What?" Bea says, having completely forgotten about anyone other than the woman in front of her. "Oh, right. It's really okay, I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" Ina asks, hand on Bea's face all of a sudden, when did that happen, holy shit? "I don't...it'll be a little risky, if I fight to keep you--" Ooh. "--as my TA instead of hers--" Slightly less enthusiastic ooh. "--but I will, if you want me to. I don't--like seeing you with her. I know you kissing her was the kiss cam, and avoiding suspicion of any anything untoward with me, but...I hated it."

"Were you jealous?" Bea asks, hands twitching as she resists the urge to hold Ina's hand on her face even longer.

"Yes," Ina admits, quickly and easily. Bea could swoon. "Yes, I was jealous. I think...had she not been there, or if I could've stayed on our date instead of having to leave for the call from the Dean, I wouldn't have been able to say that. But Bea, I don't want anyone else to have you. And I--I understand I can't ask that of you. It's your life, and you would have to hide--"

Bea puts an arm around the back of Ina's neck to pull her in for a kiss, and Ina just fucking goes for it, pinning Bea to the door with her whole body, pressed together in as many points as possible. The kiss is deep and passionate and perfect, and it's only the fact that they're right against the door that prompts Bea to bite back a moan.

After a couple minutes of this, Ina pulls back, but only to rest her forehead against Bea's. Bea smiles up at her. Ina, miraculously, smiles back, no sign of wanting to cut and run at all.

The moment only lasts a second, though, and then Ina clears her throat, pulls back a little. "We should...talk about this."

"What's there to talk about?" Bea says. "I get that we have to keep things secret, I get that it's risky, but I want this and you want this, so what's the issue?"

Ina clears her throat, looking at Bea with so much emotion that it's almost uncomfortable. "I don't...Bea, if you want me--"

"--I do--"

"--then you'll still want me after you think through the consequences."

Bea groans, pushes Ina back until the professor's back hits her own desk. "Ina. I have thought this through. I have. And I'm all in. The question is, have you?" (She has thought it through. That's what that conversation with Zoey earlier was about.)

"Of course I have," Ina says, more a hiss than calm, casual discussion. "Bea, I've thought of nothing but you since the speakeasy. How could I not? Our conversation, you on top of me--" She clears her throat, face flushed. "But you don't want--"

"Hey, how about you let me tell you what I want? I'm an adult, I can make my own decisions."

Ina looks at Bea's face, and Bea tries to keep it nice and not angry about being pushed away again. She seems to come to a decision, and she presses a quick, chaste kiss to Bea's lips. Bea grins at her. "If you're sure, Bea."

"I am," Bea says. "No one else I'd want to be with but you. Promise."

Ina's eyes go a little darker at that, and Bea could tell Lexi to fuck off a thousand times without any flirtation whatsoever and it'd be worth it for the look on Ina's face. "Good."

"Good," Bea repeats, and kisses her one more time. This one's sweeter, less let's-fuck-on-this-desk-right-now and more I-really-really-really-really-really-really-like-you. "I want nothing more than to stay right here, right now."

"...but?" Ina asks. Bea's disappointment at having to leave is mostly soothed by Ina reading her well enough to understand what she's getting at.

"But I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to meet up with Lexi to TA," Bea grumbles.

"The one good thing about that wretched woman being interested in me is at least it means I know she'll leave you alone," Ina says, and lets her go.

Bea laughs, a little awkwardly, but Ina doesn't seem to pick up on it. "Right. Uh, before I go, though, we are--right? We're us?"

Ina nods. "If you want to be. And you were very insistent about the fact that you do."

"I do!" Bea says, smiling dopily at her. "Okay, good, I just wanted to be sure. I'll see you later?"

"I'll text you," Ina says. "I do actually have all these quizzes to grade."

Bea hates to leave her with that glum expression, so she kisses her and says, "I'll make it up to you later."

Then it's heading back over to Lexi's office, glancing at herself in the windows to make sure she isn't so obviously mussed up. She's certain that Lexi wouldn't expose her and Ina's relationship, if only because it would sabotage her chances of dating Ina.

It's not stupid to flex, just a little, right?

She knocks on Lexi's office door, hears the other woman call a disinterested, "Come in," and opens it. Lexi's at her desk, looking at something on her computer that she slams shut as Bea walks in. "Hughes. I've plenty of work for you to do to keep you away from Ina." Bea smirks at her, and Lexi's expression goes stony. "What, are you looking for a repeat performance of yesterday? I'm not exactly interested in bending you over and punishing you for your insolence right now."

Uh, damn. Bea blinks a couple times, shakes her head as if to physically clear the images of that. "No. Just letting you know that, uh, I win. So sorry, but you were barely even competition."

"You--" Lexi's eyes flash, and Bea thinks for a second that Lexi might throw something at her. Instead, Lexi sits back, and says, "Alright."

"See, I--alright?"

"Yes," Lexi says, voice weirdly calm. "I've still got work for you to do. And I have business to attend to."

"Leave her alone, she's not--"

"My business doesn't involve Ina at all, Hughes," Lexi says with an eyeroll. "But you need to go through and put all this--" She taps a stack of papers on the desk with a single finger. "Into a spreadsheet. Okay?"

"I...okay?" Bea says, too confused to put up a fight right now. Lexi passes her without a sideways glance and leaves the office.

That...wasn't what Bea was expecting. She texts Ina a quick working on some busywork, she's already left and Zoey a girl i have SO much news but don't worry i took your advice about Lexi and posts a picture of herself in a nice office to her Insta, then gets to work. The whole time, she's left thinking about what Lexi has up her sleeves, because there's no way she's actually that calm about losing Ina to her.

Not that she's going to get Ina back. Not that she's going to get Bea back; she's happy with Ina. She is.

[sheabuttahwrites]

[ I Know ]

. two : the connection 

one

6:02am

I was dreaming about Omari again. For some reason, he came to me often while I slept. He had picked me up, as he usually did, but, somehow I knew that I wasn’t coming back this time. I was clueless as to where we were, but I also didn't have a single worry. I was with O and I was safe. That, I was sure of.

We were flying through the air, which wasn't odd for me because I’d had more than a few dreams where I could fly. Still, there was a difference. Whenever I’d be flying, I was usually doing so because something or someone was chasing me and I had to get away. And it was usually very dark as well. But now, I didn't discern any danger and everything around us was shining so brightly. I’d also never been able to actually stay up there. Whenever I’d stop flying, I would immediately start to float back down. That wasn't the case here. We stopped and were just suspended in the sky with no effort. He laid me down on what felt the way I thought a cloud should feel and, starting at the top of my head, he kissed my scars one by one. In some miraculous way, they all disappeared with a single touch of his lips. Amazed, I smiled and watched as he continued to make his way down my bare body. At first my nudity confused me, as did the lack of discomfort that came with it, but, when he reached my Love, I no longer cared. My grin slowly fell as he spread my legs and, without an ounce of hesitance, he began to spoil me with gentle kisses. I was stunned, but it never entered my mind to stop him. I had to admit, it felt good.

“Oh my... aaah,” I moaned softly, lacing my right hand with his left. It was almost like I could actually feel his tongue slipping around a part of me that only myself and Cam had ever touched. However, in this illusion, I had no problem with that fact becoming fiction. Though I had moved past the initial shock, unfortunately, I could sense my sleep coming to an end. He started to fade away as my eyes softly fluttered open, but there was still someone between my legs. And it wasn't Omari. I looked down and Cam had my thighs stretched wide, one arm across my stomach, licking the shit out of my pussy. I tried to get away, but my every pursuit was quickly shut down. Whenever he realized that I was trying to escape his firm grasp, he licked faster, sucked harder, rubbed deeper. 

No matter how hard I fought, my body began to respond on its own, grinding into his face. Before long, my hips were in the air, he was buried between my lips, and I had relinquished all control. I gripped the couch with both hands in an attempt to evade the floor. “Fuuuck,” I whined, so upset with myself. Then the self betrayal reached a new level as I clenched my eyes, having the most regrettable orgasm ever. I hated giving him the satisfaction that, even at a time like this, he still had the power to make me cum. My body fell into the cushions and I hid my face, embarrassed. I don't know what the fuck he thought this was doing, because he hadn't swayed me whatsoever. I felt no different about things than I had before. 

He came up with tears in his eyes, apologizing and telling me how much he loved me. “You know I love you. With my whole heart, Jade. I'm sorry.” Seeing him cry shook me up a bit, I won't lie, but I was so far away from succumbing to his will.

He came closer and laid his head on my chest. Not even the smallest part of me welcomed the contact, and I was not about to let this be over so easily. “It's not... that simple.” He looked up and I reached to turn on the lamp behind us. “Look what you did to me.” My neck held marks from his fingernails, my scalp was bruised, there were noticeable rug burns on my knee and both hips, my face was so badly swollen that a small cut had formed at the corner of my mouth, and there was blood stuck on my gum line and between my teeth. 

“Oh my God.” He quietly examined every injury, running his fingers gingerly over the damage, seemingly frightened by my appearance. 

“This is love, Cameron?”

“I'm so sorry, baby. I swear, I'm gonna work on being better. I don't wanna do stuff like this to you. I'ma get help.”

I didn't fall for any of that shit. Sadly, this was the routine. I'd get my ass beat, then I'd get fucked, next was the apology and last came the promise of counseling. A promise that he never kept. This was my life now. A life that I could not have imagined in my wildest dreams.

Cameron McKinley Taylor. He wasn't always this way.

We had been together for five years now, the first three being probably the most happy years of my adult life. He was always such a sweetheart. He'd call or text just to hear my voice or tell me he loved me, bring me flowers for no reason; you know, just little things to show me he cared. We would talk for hours about anything, and nobody could make me laugh as hard. We were just in tune with one another, damn near inseparable. But, shortly after the situation became a little more serious, after we moved in together, everything changed. Out of nowhere, he just switched up on me. All of the sweetness was replaced with constant anger. It started with him taking my car. To this day, I still have no idea what he did with it. Without a ride of my own, though, I couldn't go anywhere or do anything without him. But he somehow always found a way to accuse me of stepping outside of the relationship. Which I never understood. I made the decision to stick it out, thinking this behavior was only temporary. However, after two years had passed me by, I learned a major lesson; fun wasn’t the only thing that made time fly. Misery did it just as well. 

He moved us to Los Angeles from Atlanta about a year and a half ago for a chance at better career opportunities, he'd claimed. But, the more thought I gave it, the more I began to believe there had been some malice behind his motives. I was taken so far away from my family, or anyone I knew for that matter, that I had no choice but to spend all of my time with him. I wasn’t even sure what it was that he did. He had a couple of degrees and he was working for some company before we came out here. Whatever he was doing now required him to leave home for months at a time, usually around two, and his salary was ridiculous. That was where my knowledge ended. I had my suspicions, but I knew better than to question him about anything. I'd just convinced myself that as long as the bills were kept current and we weren’t living on the street, everything was ok. He wasn't the least bit stingy with his leftovers either. He just made sure to monitor my transactions very closely. Shopping had become a way of life for me. It was basically my therapy.

Almost as soon as we got to Cali, he left for work. For a whole week, I stayed inside, afraid to leave the house. Not only was it a new scene for me, but I was heavily intimidated by the fact that I wasn’t familiar with anyone in the entire state. Then one day, feeling unusually courageous, I just got an Uber. After a little convincing, along with some financial compensation, that lady drove me all over LA.

I met Omari that day.

I walked into this sneaker boutique just to look around and there he was, standing with four boxes beside him and still browsing.

I recall thinking he had a nice deep brown, caramel complexion with really smooth looking skin. His hair was how he always wore it; in neatly twisted braids that ran straight back, falling an ample amount past his shoulders. He had a goatee then and it was groomed perfectly to match. Likewise, he was dressed nicely in jeans and a crisp white v-neck tee that hugged his toned arms and chest perfectly. The black diamonds in his ears glistened in the sunlight, as did the gold beaded bracelet around his wrist. His feet held a pair of black high top Chucks and I caught a Louis Vuitton belt peeking from underneath his shirt right before I turned to mind my own business. Long story short, he was very well put together... and so damn fine.

I still remember like it was yesterday.

“Um, I know it’s a lot, but can I get these in an 8?”

“Oh, no problem.” The associate, who had just been helping him, eagerly studied my selections. Her memory must've been outstanding, because I definitely would’ve had to take my phone out and snap a pic. “I'll be right back”.

I smiled, thanking her as I resumed my search. I wasn’t exactly interested in anything else, I was more so making the conscious effort to keep myself distracted. I had briefly considered taking a seat when, from the corner of my eye, I could see him starting to come over. I immediately threw all of my attention to a pair of kicks in front of me. They weren't even cute, but that was neither here nor there. I just needed to conceal the fact that I had been checking him out something serious on the low.

“Hey,” he rasped, once he was standing next to me. I turned to him and he had the cutest grin on his face. I couldn't help but smile back. Plus he looked even better up close. 

“Hey.”

“I don't mean to interrupt, and I know you don't know me, but… I just had to come over and say hello. You are beautiful.”

Completely caught off guard, I blushed almost instantly. My ears weren't even tuned for that type of compliment anymore. He was serious, too. I took my gaze down for a moment, using a slight laugh as part of my recovery. “Thank you.” And upon realizing that I liked this guy and didn't want his good smelling self to walk away, I decided to go ahead and introduce myself. “Jade.”

“Omari. Nice to meet you.” He extended his hand to me and I obliged, giving it a shake. 

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“So, um, where you from? If you don't mind me asking.”

“How you know I'm not from LA?” I jokingly asked. I was nowhere near being from LA, I  just wanted to see what he would say. 

“I can hear it in your voice.”

I chuckled, fully aware that my accent had given me away. “Yeah, I'm from Georgia.”

“I knew you were from somewhere down south.”

“Yep. So, you from here?” I returned my attention to the wall of shoes in front of me, trying not to stare.

“Yeah. Been here all my life.” 

“Ok,” I nodded. “I've only been here for a couple weeks.”

“Oh, for real?”

“Yeah. Today is actually my first time getting out of the house, believe it or not.”

“Well, maybe I can show you around my city sometime.”

And, just like that, I was back. “Maybe…” 

I hadn't been able keep him out of my sight for more than a few seconds, but his proposition had warranted at least a glance; I had to see if he was playing around. The deliberate eye contact I was met with only erased some of my doubt, still his confidence was a turn on for certain. I was smiling at him, he was smiling at me, and I was more than sure that he was in possession of the prettiest smile I had ever seen. His lips were on point, too; nice and full with a couple beauty marks adorning the bottom one. I found myself licking my own lips, wondering if his were as soft as they looked.  

Right in the midst of a moment that needed to be disrupted, the saleswoman walked over toting my five boxes effortlessly. 

“Thank you,” I told her, not just for the footwear, but also for breaking me away from whatever this was. I mean, I was stuck. 

“You're welcome. I'll be at the counter when you're ready, and let me know if you need anything else.”

“Ok.” I sat down on the bench and came out of my left shoe, grabbing the first box from the stack. “So, Omari…”

“Yeah?”

“You do this often?” I quizzed, slipping a fresh sneaker onto my foot; undeniably one of the best feelings in the world. 

“Do what?”

“Just walk over to random women and start conversations.” I grinned up at him standing beside me and he chuckled.

“Well, if I can be honest, you caught my eye as soon as you walked in. I like your vibe. And you looked so nice standing over here, I couldn't leave without at least getting your name.”

He was such a gentleman, and quite the charmer. He had a way with words, for sure. My guard was still very much intact, but his company didn’t make me uncomfortable. In fact, the interaction was rather flattering. I didn't know the kid still had it. 

“And now you know my name and where I’m from.”

He laughed, dropping his head. “You right. But you know they say good things come in threes.”

“Yeah, I’m familiar.”

“So, now I need your number to complete the trilogy. I mean, if that's cool with you.”

I can’t lie, I was tickled. He was that cute, corny funny I was very fond of. “Yeah,” I agreed, without even a second thought. Despite the obvious, I didn't wanna say no. “You like these?” I stood and we both looked down at the deep pink suede Nike Blazer I had been wearing. 

“Yeah. They cold with the gum bottom.”

“Right?! I was thinking the same thing. I'ma get 'em.”

We made small talk until I'd tried on my last pair. Then the conversation carried on while he tried on a few more. The six or seven other people in the store probably thought we knew each other. He was surprisingly easy to talk to for a complete stranger. We eventually exchanged numbers and, ever since that day, we'd been down like four flats on a Cadillac.

He was the only friend I had.

[koganphrancis]

Ian Used To Do Better Stuff With Vans OR There’s Another Hour Of My Life I Won’t Get Back

This episode was dumb dumb dumb as fuck-and even more pointless than that.  The ONLY redeeming quality in it was that it was completely Terror-free.  Read on, if you dare.  My recap of Season H8 Episode Dear God Why Isn’t It Over Yet-or 11, if you want to keep it short.

As usual, I’ll get the others out of the way as quickly as I possibly can. 

Carl’s still illegally under-aged married, and this week he tells Kasammi, “I don’t think there’s any skin left on my dick.”  Yeah, they made that point last year when they had to keep taking it off after his misguided circumcision.  Not that the show is referring to THAT, of course.  They refuse to acknowledge any plot point that has gone before.  He and Kas take a wild tour through his before the show started past and I have no idea what the point is-is it to show us she’s truly insane because none of the horrors of life on the mean streets scare her?  Or to show us that Generation Z doesn’t experience reality because their whole lives have been instantly posted on screens of electronic devices?  I don’t know and I don’t care-quit trying to be fake deep, Shameless, if you even are.  I can’t tell.  The only (maybe) pertinent point of Carl’s story this week is he tells Kasammi after her hundredth shit fit on the subject that he won’t go back to military school and in the previews for next week it looks like the family (or at least Frank) will try to help him sneak away to do just that.  Yawn.

Debbie loses three toes-Frank chops them off for her.  Before that, Debbie is shown signing her 16 year old self out of the hospital-WHAT?  She’d need a parent or guardian for that.  Anyway, apparently Debbie’s not on any kind of welfare or insurance.  And doesn’t know that Ian could’ve gotten the money for her expensive surgery to attempt to save the toes by going down on the old couple just twice.  What is it with this show and cutting off toes?  They’ve done this before with the body they got to stand in for Aunt Ginger.  I’m so sick of the recycled plot points!

Speaking of which-Snore’s old man is out of prison so Lip gets him to fight him to violate his parole and send him back-did this new writer guy not see Yevgeny’s christening episode or is he just really into plagiarism?  It was such a fizzle to a going nowhere story to begin with.  I think the guy playing Snore’s version of Terry even had some of the same lines but I’m too lazy to rewatch and try to catch them.  If we were supposed to hate this guy like we hate Terry, it didn’t work.  And Lip was no Mickey showing up to defend people that mean something to him either-it was all a weak as fuck imitation.  And it was odd that Lip chose to call the guy out for “beating women” when he lets himself get beaten when he has sex with Eddy.  Who the fuck is he to judge?  Maybe ten year old Snore didn’t get that her parents were having consensual rough sex that got too violent and ended in death-but the show’s not that deep.

Snore’s telling of her mother’s death once again played like someone complaining about not getting the last bottle of nail polish in their favorite shade at Walgreens or something.  If she’s been so traumatized that she can’t put any emotion into the horrific memories that’s fine, but then I would argue that she wouldn’t be terrified of her dad coming after her either.  Snore just can’t emote OR imagine what it would be like to be in that setting, I’m sorry.  

And here’s what had me super pissed-Snore tells Lip she was 10 when her mom was killed in front of witnesses (Snore and her brother-she specifically says they both testified against him) and her dad’s already out on parole?  We don’t know how old Snore is now, but surely no older than 25 (and probably not even that old, but whatever), so the show is saying her dad got out in 15 years max, which is the time Mickey was sentenced to for NOT killing Sammi?  Fuck off.  

Also, why would the cops not even consider the father’s side of the story that Lip instigated the fight?  Lip has Eddy’s niece record the fight on his phone, and after it’s over he goes over to her and asks her how it looks or whatever, and she says Snore’s father threw the first punch.  Wouldn’t the cops question why a little girl was filming two men on a porch BEFORE a fight started?  Snore’s father must have Mickey’s public defender for a lawyer.  Fucking show should’ve shocked us all by having Lip get locked up for premeditated assault.  

Fiona meets with a lawyer (Janice from Friends, but she’s not as funny in this, sadly) and as soon as she said Fiona could lose both the apartment building and the Gallagher house I knew that storyline had jumped the shark and somehow next week all will be miraculously fixed-no way will the Gallaghers ever lose the house, that’s another plot point that’s been done to death.  At first I was thinking they’ll either come up with some fortuitous traffic camera footage showing that the guy jumped off the roof intentionally, or that Hugh Laurie would show up in a cameo as Dr. House and say that if a man “fell” off a roof that high, he’d have a hell of a lot more damage than one broken ankle, but no, the show isn’t going to even get that clever-they’re just gonna have the family cave and be willing to settle with Fiona if they get custody of her dog that suddenly she’s so worried about in this week’s episode.  She’s never shown that level of concern for any of her siblings.  

Frank has a tedious, boring couple of scenes about his “retirement plan”-he has a baggie of 3 stolen Social Security cards and anyone can see a mile off that the cards would’ve just been replaced by their original owners-they’re not like a set of fingerprints and you only get one for life and if you lose it someone else has your entire identity.  THEN they set up next week’s recycled/stolen plot to have Liam and Frank rip off Liam’s rich friend’s family just like Carl and Frank ripped off Liam and Carl’s gay foster dads-it didn’t work then, it won’t work now (and why didn’t Frank do hard time for that grand theft?).  

Svetlana and Vee and Kevin have a scene at a fancy (but not as fancy as the show was trying to tell us it was) bar that was a pathetic echo of both Ian and Mickey’s hotel bar scam AND of how funny the show used to be able to be.  Later Svet goes to humble herself to the other hand whore to find out how she snagged a rich fiance and discovers that the dude she’s about to marry is senile as fuck and Svet is going to step in to replace her, which is what I predicted the first time the hand whore showed up.  I will give Shameless credit for making me laugh unintentionally-since I’ve been picturing the “old rich dude” Svet was going to wind up with as John Wells’ fantasy version of himself, seeing the old dude in an adult diaper and thinking he’s Wells was very satisfying.  

Do I finally get to Ian now?  Do I have to talk about his bullshit?  There’s a scene of him in bed alone while the newlyweds are having sex in the same room, signalling that he’d rather be there than at Terror’s house, LOL.  Then it’s the next morning and he goes down to breakfast with his Bible in hand, but no pills.  Is that supposed to be significant?  We may never know...

He gets to the “Church Of Gay Jesus” and there’s so many “fans” there it’s like Beatles or One Direction footage.  The minister guy gets through the crowd to him with a big young guy and tells Ian the rando is “Bic” and he wants to help (I didn’t know the guy’s name till I saw it in the closing credits, I really thought his name was “Dick” and they were making a “big dick” joke, but no, I guess they were making a “Bic lighter” joke instead).  Ian and Bic instantly have more chemistry than Ian and Terror but it’s unintentional I’m sure-the actor playing Bic probably has taken acting classes and knows to look an acting partner in the eye, instantly making him more engaged than Terror’s ever been in a scene.  

The minister guy tells Ian, “Your life is no longer your own.”  Which first of all, I’m just not buying that all these youths have just been waiting for a messiah to show up and they’ll follow him anywhere, and secondly why was being with Mickey not Ian anymore, but he’ll give away his entire life for strangers?  Fuck you, Shameless.  (and speaking of his entire life, does he never have to go to work anymore?  Also, Fiona turned him down when he asked for a ride to the church-for once she had a good reason, that she had to pick up Debbie-but why is the show acting like Fi does things for him all of the sudden?  She DID give him a ride last week, and that was very OOC of her.)

There’s a kid trying to get Ian’s attention-he needs help getting away from his parents who have hired men to get him back.  At some point in the proceedings some guys jump out of a van and drag the kid into it.  Ian runs to the front of the van before it can pull away and goes all Chris Pratt in Jurassic Park, holding up his arms and not letting it advance.  The unintentional humor here amused me no end.  Then Ian lays down in front of the van and I actually said aloud to my TV, “Just run him over.”  I’m that done with this storyline and this show-just kill Ian off at this point, it’d be a mercy.  

Ian’s there on the ground with his arms thrown up over his head (not that the driver could even see him down there, right in front of the van) and we see that this time Shameless didn’t bother covering up Cam’s real life Sailor Moon tattoo.  SO LAZY.  All the other kids lay down around the van too so it can’t go anywhere  The 3 dudes in the van give up and let the kid get out.

The kid is 14 and the minister guy tries to talk sense into Ian, saying the parents have a legal right to their kid and they, more specifically Ian, can’t keep the kid.  Ian agrees to talk to the kid’s dad who tells him the parents aren’t bigots, they don’t care that their son’s not heterosexual, but he’s been living on the streets, doing drugs, and prostituting himself.  Then the father says, “We believe he may be mentally ill,” and Cameron (and yes, I mean Cameron, not Ian) makes a reaction face to that, but what it means, again, nobody knows.

Ian goes to talk to the kid where they have him hidden away in the Mickey Wedding Venue basement.  Ian tells him what the father told him, and the kid says they keep bringing him to a church (is that Ian’s trigger?  Churches? and if so, why?), plus they have him see shrinks who have put him on meds that knock him on his ass and he can’t get an erection.  He adds, “That’s what they really want-so I can’t have sex with another boy, you know?  Ever.”  Ian says, “Well you can’t stay here.  You have to find someplace where you can be safe, where you can be yourself.”  WHAT?  I don’t understand.  For one thing, isn’t that LITERALLY TERROR’S JOB?  To take runaways and provide them with a safe place to stay and a plan to get their lives back on terms that they can live with?  I don’t ever want to have to side with Terror, but this episode is basically saying that Terror’s way is right and Ian’s way is oh so wrong and misguided.  What the fuck?  Secondly, isn’t that what Ian THINKS he’s doing?  Why is he telling the kid HE has to find someplace safe?  Ian has literally been in this kid’s shoes-he knows there’s no safe places for someone even younger than he was when he got back from the army, living on the streets.  Anyway, after Ian’s lines the kid says, “Will you help me?” but Ian doesn’t answer one way or the other.  

I totally didn’t get this scene-why the writer had Ian say nothing.  I could see if it was to show Ian was getting more and more manic and now is on the downside of that and is becoming too depressed to speak to people-but then where’s his energy for doing anything coming from, plus the story isn’t SAYING he’s manic or depressed, and Cam and John Wells said Ian’s storyline is bold, audacious, great, etc and I don’t think either of them would’ve said those things if the payoff is just going to be that Ian needed his meds adjusted.  And why does Ian maybe believe what the kid is saying and not the dad?  Again, this IS Ian’s story!  Mentally ill, unable to help himself, and unwilling to take his pills!  I wondered why Ian didn’t at least give him a version of the Monica “you don’t have to change for them” speech, or his own “you don’t have to fix me because I’m not broken” speech or why in the name of all that’s holy didn’t he tell the kid, “I’ve been exactly where you are-on meds that were supposed to help but made me feel like crap plus I couldn’t get it up-but that’s because they take time-you need to take them to get stable and then you’ll find what works for you and have no problems having sex again (since apparently Ian’s never had an issue since beating Mickey up at the dugouts).”  AND the kid’s only 14-does Ian maybe want to advise him that feeling like he needs to be having sex that young to the point where he’s willing to run away and do it with anyone might be part of his symptoms?  

Ian COULD be so helpful here, but no.  At this point he is literally putting at risk kids at even greater risk.  

Later Rando Bic shows Ian that the van’s back behind the church.  Ian says, “Get the kid,” like he’s The Penguin and Bic’s his trusty lieutenant.  It was so dumb.  The kid is used as bait, and when the 3 guys jump out of the van Ian pops up behind the group and starts yelling.  “My god’s a faggot!  My god’s a dyke!  My god is trans, a junkie, a whore!’  Then the van blows up.  “We will not be victims!”  

What the hell is he on about?  That’s a serious question.  None of this is making sense.  God isn’t human, so Ian giving the Christian god human attributes makes no sense.  “We won’t be victims” of WHAT?  Gay conversion?  This kid’s dad said he isn’t trying to convert his gay son.  What is all the yelling and the explosion about?  And to get back to the explosion for a moment: That had to be Ian’s brilliant plan, and it just makes me miss Mickey talking him down from stupid shit like that all the more.  Bic is the one that actually lights the fire (get it?  BIC?) but how did they even know that all 3 guys would get out of the van this time?  Based on the first failed attempt to drive off with the kid, wouldn’t it make more sense that one of the guys would stay at the wheel and keep the van running and they’d take off the minute they shoved the kid inside before all of Ian’s disciples could block it again?   Before I rewatched the scene this morning I actually wondered if the story is going to be Ian is guilty of killing one of the guys, but then I saw it again and all 3 did get out-but I still don’t think Bic could’ve seen them from where he snuck around to light it up.  And I bet we don’t see Bic again-he was randomly thrown in because of course Terror wouldn’t have helped Ian carry out any plan that wasn’t his own.  But it’s funny that they couldn’t have him in the episode because everyone, even the shitty writers, know there’s no way Terror could talk Ian out of it like Mickey would be able to.   

In the scenes for next week, Terror shows up and asks, “Is Ian around?” and Debbie answers, “He’s not here.”  Terror says, “There’s a warrant out for his arrest.”  Wouldn’t the cops have gone to Ian’s house FIRST?  Where would they have even found Terror to be asking about Ian since Ian doesn’t officially work for the Youth Center or the Church of Gay Jesus.  More lazy writing, can’t wait for the whimpering end to this crapfest of a season.  

[iknowff]

. two : the connection

6:02am

I was dreaming about Omari again. For some reason, he came to me often while I slept. He had picked me up, as he usually did, but, somehow I knew that I wasn’t coming back this time. I was clueless as to where we were, but I also didn't have a single worry. I was with O and I was safe. That, I was sure of.

We were flying through the air, which wasn't odd for me because I’d had more than a few dreams where I could fly. Still, there was a difference. Whenever I’d be flying, I was usually doing so because something or someone was chasing me and I had to get away. And it was usually very dark as well. But now, I didn't discern any danger and everything around us was shining so brightly. I’d also never been able to actually stay up there. Whenever I’d stop flying, I would immediately start to float back down. That wasn't the case here. We stopped and were just suspended in the sky with no effort. He laid me down on what felt the way I thought a cloud should feel and, starting at the top of my head, he kissed my scars one by one. In some miraculous way, they all disappeared with a single touch of his lips. Amazed, I smiled and watched as he continued to make his way down my bare body. At first my nudity confused me, as did the lack of discomfort that came with it, but, when he reached my Love, I no longer cared. My grin slowly fell as he spread my legs and, without an ounce of hesitancy, he began to spoil me with gentle kisses. I was stunned, but it never entered my mind to stop him. I had to admit, it felt good.

“Oh my... aaah,” I moaned softly, lacing my right hand with his left. It was almost like I could actually feel his tongue slipping around a part of me that only myself and Cam had ever touched. However, in this illusion, I had no problem with that fact becoming fiction. Though I had moved past the initial shock, unfortunately, I could sense my sleep coming to an end. He started to fade away as my eyes softly fluttered open, but there was still someone between my legs. And it wasn't Omari. I looked down and Cam had my thighs stretched wide, one arm across my stomach, licking the shit out of my pussy. I tried to get away, but my every pursuit was quickly shut down. Whenever he realized that I was trying to escape his firm grasp, he licked faster, sucked harder, rubbed deeper. 

No matter how hard I fought, my body began to respond on its own, grinding into his face. Before long, my hips were in the air, he was buried between my lips, and I had relinquished all control. I gripped the couch with both hands in an attempt to evade the floor. “Fuck,” I whined, so upset with myself. Then the self betrayal reached a new level as I clenched my eyes, having the most regrettable orgasm ever. I hated giving him the satisfaction that, even at a time like this, he still had the power to make me cum. My body fell into the cushions and I hid my face, embarrassed. I don't know what the fuck he thought this was doing, because he hadn't swayed me whatsoever. I felt no different about things than I had before. 

He came up with tears in his eyes, apologizing and telling me how much he loved me. “You know I love you. With my whole heart, Jade. I'm sorry.” Seeing him cry shook me up a bit, I won't lie, but I was so far away from succumbing to his will.

He came closer and laid his head on my chest. Not even the smallest part of me welcomed the contact, and I was not about to let this be over so easily. “It's not... that simple.” He looked up and I reached to turn on the lamp behind us. “Look what you did to me.” My neck held marks from his fingernails, my scalp was bruised, there were noticeable rug burns on my knee and both hips, my face was so badly swollen that a small cut had formed at the corner of my mouth, and there was blood stuck on my gum line and between my teeth.  

“Oh my God.” He quietly examined every injury, running his fingers gingerly over the damage, seemingly frightened by my appearance. 

“This is love, Cameron?” 

“I'm so sorry, baby. I swear, I'm gonna work on being better. I don't wanna do stuff like this to you. I'ma get help.”

I didn't fall for any of that shit. Sadly, this was the routine. I'd get my ass beat, then I'd get fucked, next was the apology and last came the promise of counseling. A promise that he never kept. This was my life now. A life that I could not have imagined in my wildest dreams.

Cameron Makisig Taylor. He wasn't always this way.

We had been together for five years now, the first three being probably the most happy years of my adult life. He was always such a sweetheart. He'd call or text just to hear my voice or tell me he loved me, bring me flowers for no reason; you know, just little things to show me he cared. We would talk for hours about anything, and nobody could make me laugh as hard. We were just in tune with one another, damn near inseparable. But, shortly after the situation became a little more serious, after we moved in together, everything changed. Out of nowhere, he just switched up on me. All of the sweetness was replaced with constant anger. It started with him taking my car. To this day, I still have no idea what he did with it. Without a ride of my own, though, I couldn't go anywhere or do anything without him. But he somehow always found a way to accuse me of stepping outside of the relationship. Which I never understood. I made the decision to stick it out, thinking this behavior was only temporary. However, after two years had passed me by, I learned a major lesson; fun wasn’t the only thing that made time fly. Misery did it just as well. 

He moved us to Los Angeles from Atlanta about a year and a half ago for a chance at better career opportunities, he'd claimed. But, the more thought I gave it, the more I began to believe there had been some malice behind his motives. I was taken so far away from my family, or anyone I knew for that matter, that I had no choice but to spend all of my time with him. I wasn’t even sure what it was that he did. He had a couple of degrees and he was working for some company before we came out here. Whatever he was doing now required him to leave home for months at a time, usually around two, and his salary was ridiculous. That was where my knowledge ended. I had my suspicions, but I knew better than to question him about anything. I'd just convinced myself that as long as the bills were kept current and we weren’t living on the street, everything was ok. He wasn't the least bit stingy with his leftovers either. He just made sure to monitor my transactions very closely. Shopping had become a way of life for me. It was basically my therapy.

Almost as soon as we got to Cali, he left for work. For a whole week, I stayed inside, afraid to leave the house. Not only was it a new scene for me, but I was heavily intimidated by the fact that I wasn’t familiar with anyone in the entire state. Then one day, feeling unusually courageous, I just got an Uber. After a little convincing, along with some financial compensation, that lady drove me all over LA.

I met Omari that day.

I walked into this sneaker boutique just to look around and there he was, standing with four boxes beside him and still browsing.

I recall thinking he had a nice deep brown, caramel complexion with really smooth looking skin. His hair was how he always wore it; in neatly twisted braids that ran straight back, falling a copious amount past his shoulders. He had just enough facial hair and it was groomed perfectly to match. Likewise, he was dressed nicely in jeans and a crisp white v-neck tee that hugged his toned arms and chest perfectly. The black diamonds in his ears glistened in the sunlight, as did the gold beaded bracelet around his wrist. His feet held a pair of black high top Chucks and I caught a Louis Vuitton belt peeking from underneath his shirt right before I turned to mind my own business. Long story short, he was very well put together... and so damn fine.

I still remember like it was yesterday. 

“Um, I know it’s a lot, but can I get these in an 8?” 

“Oh, no problem.” The associate, who had just been helping him, eagerly studied my selections. Her memory must've been outstanding, because I definitely would’ve had to take my phone out and snap a pic. “I'll be right back”. 

I smiled, thanking her as I resumed my search. I wasn’t exactly interested in anything else, I was more so making the conscious effort to keep myself distracted. I had briefly considered taking a seat when, from the corner of my eye, I could see him starting to come over. I immediately threw all of my attention to a pair of kicks in front of me. They weren't even cute, but that was neither here nor there. I just needed to conceal the fact that I had been checking him out something serious on the low.

“Hey,” he rasped, once he was standing next to me. I turned to him and he had the cutest grin on his face. I couldn't help but smile back. Plus he looked even better up close. 

“Hey.”

“I don't mean to interrupt, and I know you don't know me, but… I just had to come over and say hello. You are beautiful.”

Completely caught off guard, I blushed almost instantly. My ears weren't even tuned for that type of compliment anymore. He was serious, too. I took my gaze down for a moment, using a slight laugh as part of my recovery. “Thank you.” And upon realizing that I liked this guy and didn't want his good smelling self to walk away, I decided to go ahead and introduce myself. “Jade.”

“Omari. Nice to meet you.” He extended his hand to me and I obliged, giving it a shake.  

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“So, um, where you from? If you don't mind me asking.”

“How you know I'm not from LA?” I jokingly asked. I was nowhere near being from LA, I  just wanted to see what he would say. 

“I can hear it in your voice.”

I chuckled, fully aware that my accent had given me away. “Yeah, I'm from Georgia.” 

“I knew you were from somewhere down south.”

“Yep. So, you from here?” I returned my attention to the wall of shoes in front of me, trying not to stare.

“Yeah. Been here all my life.” 

“Ok,” I nodded. “I've only been here for a couple weeks.”

“Oh, for real?”

“Yeah. Today is actually my first time getting out of the house, believe it or not.”

“Well, maybe I can show you around my city sometime.” 

And, just like that, I was back. “Maybe…”

I hadn't been able keep him out of my sight for more than a few seconds, but his proposition had warranted at least a glance; I had to see if he was playing around. The deliberate eye contact I was met with only erased some of my doubt, still his confidence was a turn on for certain. I was smiling at him, he was smiling at me, and I was more than sure that he was in possession of the prettiest smile I had ever seen. His lips were on point, too; nice and full with a couple beauty marks adorning the bottom one. I found myself licking my own lips, wondering if his were as soft as they looked.  

Right in the midst of a moment that needed to be disrupted, the saleswoman walked over toting my five boxes effortlessly. 

“Thank you,” I told her, not just for the footwear, but also for breaking me away from whatever this was. I mean, I was stuck. 

“You're welcome. I'll be at the counter when you're ready, and let me know if you need anything else.”

“Ok.” I sat down on the bench and came out of my left shoe, grabbing the first box from the stack. “So, Omari…”

“Yeah?”

“You do this often?” I quizzed, slipping a fresh sneaker onto my foot; undeniably one of the best feelings in the world. 

“Do what?” 

“Just walk over to random women and start conversations.” I grinned up at him standing beside me and he chuckled.

“Well, if I can be honest, you caught my eye as soon as you walked in. I like your vibe. And you looked so nice standing over here, I couldn't leave without at least getting your name.”

He was such a gentleman, and quite the charmer. He had a way with words, for sure. My guard was still very much intact, but his company didn’t make me uncomfortable. In fact, the interaction was rather flattering. I didn't know the kid still had it. 

“And now you know my name and where I’m from.” 

He laughed, dropping his head. “You right. But you know they say good things come in threes.”

“Yeah, I’m familiar.”

“So, now I need your number to complete the trilogy. I mean, if that's cool with you.” 

I can’t lie, I was tickled. He was that cute, corny funny I was very fond of. “Yeah,” I agreed, without even a second thought. Despite the obvious, I didn't wanna say no. “You like these?” I stood and we both looked down at the deep pink suede Nike Blazer I had been wearing. 

“Yeah. They cold with the gum bottom.”

“Right?! I was thinking the same thing. I'ma get 'em.”

We made small talk until I'd tried on my last pair. Then the conversation carried on while he tried on a few more. The six or seven other people in the store probably thought we knew each other. He was surprisingly easy to talk to for a complete stranger. We eventually exchanged numbers and, ever since that day, we'd been down like four flats on a Cadillac.

He was the only friend I had.

[mellicose]

are you still thinking about the other campbell+drugs prompt, or did it not sound good? or did tumblr eat it? (nom nom()

It was not lost, but I took a little break doing the Hardy Headcanons. 

The one where Campbell smokes weed for the first, and hopefully the last time. 

Rated: Mature for drug use and sex. Not super kinky, and kinda funny.

“Are you sure?” she said on the exhale. Pungent smoke curled around her face.

“Yah. I’d like to give it a try,” he said, looking around. It was a party, but everyone was too high to be energetic. Mellow rock music played from the other room. Someone stretched out on the floor and closed his eyes nearby.

“You don’t have to do a thing to impress me,” she said, fluffing his silky hair.

“That’s not it. I want some of that, for once,” he said, pointing to the guy nodding slowly to the music near them.

“But I adore just the way you are,” she said.

She looked at him. It wasn’t that she was trying to nanny him. It was because of what he had. He had never smoked, and she didn’t know how he’d take it. Some people got stereotypically mellow, while others freaked out. And a Campbell freakout might be something for the history books.

He rolled his eyes. “You gonnae let me have a hit?” he said. “I used to smoke cigarettes. I doubt it will be much worse that that.”

“This isn’t tobacco,” she said. She was beginning to wish they hadn’t come to the party. He crossed his arms and looked around again. Most were mellow. There was a couple making out, slow and deep, in a dark corner. She watched him, and understood. He just wanted some peace of mind, however temporary. Who was she to deny him that?

“Please,” he said. There was a plaintive look in his eyes.

“Okay. But we’re gonna shotgun the hits. This stuff is strong,” she said.

“Shotgun?” he asked, leaning in as she relit the joint.

She smiled at him. “I’m going to blow the smoke in your mouth. You inhale as I exhale.”

He wiggled his eyebrow. “That sounds fun,” he said. She straddled him, and out of habit, he put his hands on her hips. Her brow furrowed as she inhaled.

“Exhale,” she said. He obeyed, then she pressed her lips to his and he took in the smoke until he thought his chest might explode in coughs. A burnt, musky, herbal taste filled his mouth and his lips pursed.

“Hold it!” she said through a cough, then giggled. “as long as you can. If not, it doesn’t work.”

His face steadily got redder, and then he exhaled forcefully and coughed, waving his hand over his mouth.

“Fuck, that’s rank,” he said, drinking from a bottle of water. She kissed his neck, and he put a hand on the small of her back. “Should I be feeling something?” he whispered.

“Dunno,” she said, and kissed down his neck. She tugged at the neckline of his t-shirt, and kissed his clavicle.

“Let’s do it again,” he said, rubbing her back. She was beginning to feel it - the sparkly tingle extending from her lungs to her limbs, making her both light and heavy at the same time. It might be fun to share it with him this time.

She relit, hit, and took a soprano singer-sized hit, then blew it into his lovely mouth. His hand turned to a claw on her back, but he took every bit, holding the smoke in his lungs until his adam’s apple bounced with his need to cough… then for a bit longer.

“Holy shit, Cam, blow it out!” she said, slapping his arm. He exhaled with a whoosh, then coughed into her breasts as she laughed.

“That was epic,” the guy lying on the floor near them said, then closed his eyes again.

“I know,” she said, cradling Cam’s face in her hands.

“You okay?” she said. She giggled. She was feeling good.

He shrugged. “Let me hit the joint myself.” He was determined.

“Whatever, babe,” she said, handing it to him. There was still more than half of it left - her buddy rolled legendary j’s. No one person besides Snoop himself could finish a whole one without dropping.

He put it to his lips, letting it hang off like a cig. He looked sexy, in a furrowed, Man with No Name way. She giggled again. Cam was many things, but he wasn’t cool. Still, he did it for her. So hard.  She lit it for him and he inhaled and coughed, then inhaled much deeper. He looked up at the ceiling as he waited for his lungs to be bathed in smoke, then exhaled. He coughed for a couple seconds, then put the j in the ashtray.

“No more. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work,” he said, hugging her closer to him. Her limbs were deliciously heavy. She wanted to be alone with him.

“Hey. Dude,” she said, waving at her buddy on the floor.

He opened his eyes … barely.

“Can we chill in your studio?” she said.

He was a guitar player, and the other room of his two bedroom flat was his makeshift studio. He had a rack of guitars, amps, a keyboard, a loveseat, and his recording equipment.

“I don’t know,” he said, stretching out.

“Come on, man. Do me a solid,” she said. They had been friends since elementary school, and he had used her space many, many times for illicit liaisons with women before he had his own place. And Cam was her man, not some hookup.

He dug into his pocket for his keys and threw them at her. He kept the room locked, especially in times like this. Some stranger going in there during a party and fucking with his babies would definitely harsh his mellow.

“Come on,” she said, getting off him and pulling him to standing. She smiled. He was already feeling heavy. She could tell.

She unlocked the door and pulled him inside, then they plopped into the loveseat in a tangle of limbs. He smiled at her as he looked around. He had both acoustic and electric guitars. There was a pile of effects pedals near a window, and tangles of wires leading to a soundboard.

“This looks slightly familiar,” he said. His speech was slow, and his beautiful brown eyes were nearly closed.

“You play?” she said, putting her arm around his shoulder.

“Not well. But that part, I know,” he said, pointing to the soundboard.

“How do you feel?” she said, tugging on his shirt.

“Strange. I can’t quite … describe it. My thoughts have gone quieter,” he said, taking another sip of the water she brought with her. “It’s nice.”

“Do you feel that thing in your chest - like a spreading warmth as it hits your bloodstream?” she asked. She put her fingertips together over his heart, then spread them slowly. “Whoa.”

He thought for a couple of seconds, then nodded. “Yeah. I do,” he said. “It’s wild.” He lay his head back and lit his heavy eyelids fall closed. He was floating, in silence. He was sinking into the loveseat, slowly, and he felt every centimeter. There was no other sensation or thought to distract him from that feeling.

She slid off his lap and knelt in front of him.

“You are feeling it,” she said as she lifted his shirt over his belly and unbuttoned his jeans. He put his hand on her forearm - not to stop her, but to acknowledge her comment. He didn’t really want to talk. She had always wondered what it might be like to have him high. He was an energetic lover, which was mind-blowing… but he was languid now, and his limbs were hers to devour, at her own pace for once.

She rubbed him over his underwear, looking up at him.

“Does that feel nice?” she asked, even though he hardened quickly in her hand. He nodded, but his eyes were still closed.

“I can do better,” she said, pulling down the waistband to expose him. She sucked him, taking her sweet time with every inch of him. His breath deepened, but he didn’t rake his fingers through her hair and pump his hips into her mouth like he did when he was sober. It was … peaceful. She rubbed her lips along his length, tongue undulating on him, then sucked him deeply. He sighed, and he finally touched the back of her neck, but he didn’t press, or guide. He just caressed, ever so lightly, as she made a snug o with her lips and moved over his veiny, slick flesh over and over, more slowly than he had ever let her, and it was delicious because she could feel him now, feel the act and savor his precum and his scent with each slow bob of her head.

Her lips swelled against him, and her cheeks burned. He was so good like this. She held him in her fist and sucked just his head. The sensation as the crown of his cock caught at her lips made her pussy twitch. She was throbbing.

She stopped to take off her jeans and pull off her shirt.

“Don’t stop,” he said, giving her a languid grin. “That feels good.” He dragged the word out, then licked his lips. She unhooked her bra and climbed on his lap. His saliva-wet cock slid against the inside of her thigh, and he bucked, but slowly. It was perfect.

She pressed him into her swollen seam, rubbing against him. Usually, he would already be desperate, his hands clawing at her hips to sink into her. But now, he threw back his head and groaned, just letting the sensation wash over him. She put his hand on her breast, and he tugged on her nipple. She smiled as she leaned into him, sucking his plump lower lip. Everything was maddening friction.

His cock, sliding between her folds. Her thighs against his hips. Her belly against his. Her breasts on his chest. Her lips against his. And, miraculously, there was no fucking hurry.

She held on to the back of the loveseat and rubbed against him. Her arousal was intensifying to frenetic despite the weed. He finally put his hands on her hips, but again, it wasn’t to urge, but to caress.

“Kiss me again,” he said. She slid her tongue deep in his mouth, and he did not taste like weed. It was just sweetness. She bit his lip, moaning softly, then kissed his neck. He was so tame she could take her time, and she nipped and licked at his taut flesh. He groaned and squeezed her hip. “Bite. Harder,” he said.

It would mark. She cradled the back of his neck in her hand and rubbed her lips against his sweet spot, which was in the curve between neck and shoulder.

“Go on,” he said, arching underneath her. He was getting lively. She kissed him, then bit. His fingertips dug into her. He gasped. “More.”

“You’ll bruise,” she said, licking his earlobe. He bucked his hips into her.

“Then bruise me,” he said, looking at her through slitted eyelids. “that’s what scarves are for.” He giggled, a slow hiccup that made her press her hand to his belly.

She moved to the other side and licked his silky skin there. He bent his neck to give her better access. She kissed him, hesitant.

“You know you want to,” he said teasingly, and slapped her ass. “Chicken.”

She arched as she bit down. He trembled, and she felt him twitch against her. She sank onto him and rode him hard, grunting with each stroke. He looked up at her and licked his lips with a slow tongue, then, he winked.

She giggled and slapped him. “Cheeky bastard. Are you pretending?” she said, looking into his eyes. They were convincingly bloodshot. Oddly, she found she didn’t like it. It was grime on the windows to paradise.

“Why’d you stop?” he said, bucking his hips. “You can laugh and shag at the same time, can’t you?”

“You talk too much when you’re high,” she said, licking the bite mark on his neck. When sober, after penetration, he could do no more but make sounds.

“It’s yummy. I can actually process the sensations. Catch up wi’ masel’, so to speak,” he said. She stared at him, and he smiled at her. “I can feel your heart,” he said. “Down there.”

“Shush,” she said, and kissed him as she began to ride him again. He kissed back, but unhurried, and it both titillated and frustrated her.

She kinda wanted the sober him back. He would be straining against her by now, back straight, fucking up and into her as much as she fucked him. She missed his whimpers and grunts, and his gaze, clear amber with lust.

Still, sober or not, he felt really good. She rolled her hips into him, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He let out a moan and wrapped his arm around her waist.

“I feel it,” he said. She felt the rumble of his voice against her cheek. “Yes.”

She sucked on his tender earlobe. “Tell me when,” she said, tightening around him with every roll of her hips. “Promise-“ she was gasping now, aching for release, but he couldn’t come inside her.

Her hips went from rolls to quick little thrusts. She felt the tingle growing to warmth deep in her belly, where he was. She panted into his neck.

“shit-“ he said, and he grabbed her hips.

She couldn’t stop. Not now.  “hold it for me baby. just a little more. just a little-“ Warmth bloomed into heat in her cunt, then shot up past her belly button to her brain. She moaned long and deep into his skin as her pussy pulsed around his cock.

“jesus I can’t do it-“ he said in a trembling voice, and she bounced off him just as the first weak spurt of come oozed out of him. She fell to her knees and sucked him hard and fast, and he burst with a bone-vibrating groan in her mouth. She sucked until he tapped her head lightly, then she licked the rest off his belly and pulled his underwear back up.

She redressed and sat on his lap. He was even more mellow with orgasm. She missed his tight hugs and pillowtalk.

“This is good shit,” he said, closing his eyes. She traced his eyebrow and pouted.

“You’re too good for it,” she said, and lay her head on his shoulder.