#but not really...

“Did you have fun at your dads?” You asked sliding another look at your son.

He nodded, as a smile appeared again. “So much fun. Me and Keke, and JoJo ate sundaes and we watched the football game on thanksgiving. Aunt Allison had some wine and she was dancing and she asked me to dance you know I had to show her how we do it now. You old people-“

“Old?” You scoffed. “Boy, who you think taught you those moves?”

“Old people. Anyway, we had so much fun. Christine bought me a ball and daddy and me, daddy and I, threw the ball so much. He said I have a good arm.”

You rolled your eyes and took a right at the red light. Yohan would not put football dreams in your son’s head but you couldn’t shake the joy out of his eyes. “Oh is that right. What about that book report?”

And there was the silence. You shook your head and chuckled. “…Cat got your tongue?”

“I forgot. But I can do it tonight. We still got the weekend.”

“Uh huh.” You shook your head again and pulled into your parking space in front of your town home. And suddenly your son was reaching for the door handle, rushing like he had to go to the bathroom.

“Slow down, what you got to pee?” You knew exactly what he was rushing for.

“I want to show Terry my new ball and see if he wants to see how I throw.” He nearly slammed the door hard enough to break the window. You laughed exasperated and your son’s energy.

“He might not be home Marcus.” You got out of the car yourself, straightening your slightly off-ivory sweater. Your words didn’t stop him from ringing the doorbell, bouncing on his toes. No more than a minute later, the door opened and Terry was standing at the door, bright smile on his face and blue eyes trained on your son.

It was enough to make you melt right on the asphalt you were standing on in the 55-degree weather.

“Marc, my man. Dang, you were gone like two months.” Terry said clapping hands with the much shorter boy, and then squatting to give him a hug. “How was your thanksgiving?”

Marc shrugged, and you rolled your eyes. Boys. “It was alright.” He said, voice suddenly calm conveying indifference.

“Just alright? What the macaroni wasn’t good?” He looked at Marcus then, eyes scanning his face quickly and then he looked over at you, concern in his eyes.

“He good?” He seemed to say, just with a slight shifting of his eyebrows.

You clutched your purse to your stomach, shaking your head and shrugging with a smirk on your face.

“Oh I see, you trying not to make me jealous cause you know I sat here and had a pot pie for dinner.” He shoved him a little and then looked down at the football in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Football, my dad’s fiancé got it for me. You want to see me throw it?”

“You ask your mom?” Terry looked at you then, and Marcus’ face soon followed, his face pleading with you to be cool and say yes.

“It’s cold.” You said, needling him a little bit.

“Ma, please.” He begged.

“Fine, but book report right after. And put your gloves on.” You said grabbing his suitcase out of the backseat.

“Aww Ma-

“Hey, football players wear them too. You want your fingers to be frozen and you mess up the throw? Do what your mom says.” Terry said, his deep voice gentle.

“You right Terry.”

You rolled your eyes again, and closed the backseat. “Of course, listen to Terry. Not your dear old ma, who only was in labor with you for 6 whole h-“

“Alright ma, we’ll be in the backyard.” Marcus walked into Terry’s house, knowingly heading straight for the back door that led to your shared backyard space.

“He a trip I swear.” Terry laughed. “You need help with that?”

“It’s just one suitcase. I’m not fragile.” You stood at your door looking over at Terry fiddling with your keys.

Terry smirked, “Never said you were. Just offering. …How was your thanksgiving? I didn’t see you.” He leaned against his doorframe. His eyes shifted a little lower. You ignored the rumbling in your lower half.

“I went out.”

“With who?” His voice was slightly deeper, his eyes snapped back on your face.

You chuckled looking up at the sky for help. Something, anything that would stop the tingles in your lower half. “30 minutes Terry. Have my child back in my house in thirty minutes.” And with that you walked in your home and closed the door, safe and away from blue eyes and pheromones.

                You sat at your dining room table, windows facing the backyard open so you could see Marcus and Terry throwing the ball back and forth. Your laptop was open in front of you and the grading software had been idling for 20 minutes now as you watched the ball go back and forth. Terry’s form was impeccable, but you knew that. You knew that when he moved in.

Before Terry, there was Mrs. Mable. Mrs. Mable was a sweet older white woman who had moved into the town home after her husband had passed from cancer. She had lived in some big house about 20 minutes away, but once her husband died, she couldn’t stand the silence. When you moved into the Town home, she had been so excited, bringing over cookies and making sure that you knew exactly what school to enroll Marcus into. In the two years that you were neighbors, she had become a sort of surrogate aunt, even watching Marcus during moments where you needed to run out for whatever reason. When her daughter had another baby, she decided to move in with her to help and suddenly the Town home was empty.

Enter Terry.

You hadn’t even seen him look at the place. Only saw the moving van pull up and him, green shirt and tan cargo pants, moving his boxes in all by himself. He didn’t have much but what he did have, he moved efficiently and quickly. You knew he was a force when he picked up an armchair sofa by himself and moved it into his home…almost with no sweat. You noticed the trails of it running down his thick neck.

“Jesus.” You mumbled, hand clutching at your own neck.

“I think he needs help.” Marcus, six then, said. He was sitting at the door, putting on his little sneakers in a hurry.

“And you’re going to help him?” You smirked, watching your child spring into action.

“Yeah, I helped Mrs. Mable move her stuff in the van.”

“So, you’re a pro at it.”

“Duh, mommy.” He opened the door and you followed him, standing on your stoop as your son traveled the few feet over to the new neighbor. You leaned on your door frame, admiring the neighbor from behind as he walked into the moving truck, not even noticing the little 3 foot moving professional walking behind him.

“Can I help?” Marc asked after a moment of standing just at the edge of the truck.

There was a little pause and then a voice, “Uh…yeah you can…but where’s your mom and dad? They know you out here?”

“Ma’s right there. She said it’s okay.” Marcus pointed at you then and a face looked out of the side of the truck. Your inhale was sharp.

His face was devastating. Big features, big lips, wide nose, big blue eyes. On someone else it could be cartoonish, but on him it was almost movie star handsome.

“Damn…” You couldn’t help but say. Fuck, I hope he didn’t hear that.

He grinned slightly, and waved at you. “Hey, I’m Terry. Is it cool if your boy helps me?”

You nodded, your sanity coming back to you. “It’s…it’s cool. But if he breaks anything, just remember you said it was okay for him to help.” You joked and then cursed. Probably not a good idea to tell your neighbor that your son was a little destructive.

Terry laughed; it wasn’t a belly laugh but it was enough to brighten his face. “I won’t sue you. No worries.” He held out his hand for Marcus and helped him onto the truck. “Grab those lamps for me.”

“Be careful Marc.” You shouted.

“I am!” He shouted back, making Terry chuckle again.

You spent at least an hour and 30 minutes sitting on your stoop watching Terry and Marcus pull things off the truck. And during that time, you got a good look at Terry. He had to be at least 6’1 maybe more, and he was broad shouldered. His posture was ram-rod straight like he had been in the military or something. He answered Marcus’ questions calmly, like they had all the time in the world. Like he had no issue with answering the inane questions of a 6-year-old. He was not annoyed and if he was, he was amazing at hiding it.

You were watching them; they had stopped so Marcus could show Terry a Pokemon card he had gotten in a trade. Terry was squatted low to look at the card, giving it all the attention in the world as Marcus explained all of its features. You had urged Marcus to stop holding the man up, but Terry encouraged him to tell him more about the card, making Marcus even more excited.

“He good mama.” He looked at you, eyes focused on yours, voice still calm. Your son was not bothering him. He looked at him then, “I want to know what Bulbasaur does.”

Your stomach clenched. Oh god. You could not sleep with this man. You could not sleep with this man because she showed your son decency. Your phone rang in your pocket then, and the name on the screen made you drier than the Sahara Desert.

Yohan.

You stood up then, going to the furthest corner of your stoop. You didn’t turn your back on the two, but you did turn a little for privacy.

“Hey. What’s up?”

A pause. “I can’t get him this weekend.”

“Yohan, what the fuck. It’s your weekend. You said you were going to take him to the fair.”You kept your voice down as much as possible, not wanting to alarm Marcus.

“…I gotta work. I know what I said. I told you I’m trying.”

“You always say you have to work but then you end up in the fucking club with girls all over you.” You turned then facing away from the men who now were moving a table, Terry was of course doing most of the lifting. “Nigga, I always have to cover for you. I’m tired of lying to my son cause you don’t want to be a father.” You whispered.

“Who said I didn’t want to be a father? I’m fucking telling the truth. I don’t have to lie to your ass. I have to work. Put my son on the phone.”

You looked back and gasped. Terry was watching you, concern on his face. Marcus was heading towards the moving van, not a care in the world. You forced a grin and nodded. You were okay. Terry stood there for another second, before nodding once and walking towards the moving van.

You let out the breath you were holding and focused on the phone.

“Did you hear me Y/N? Put Marc on the phone.”

“No.” You simply said. “He’s busy.”

Another pause and then a chuckle. “…I am not doing this with you. Put my son on the phone.”

“I said no.” You were being unreasonable, sure but this man was always doing this shit and you had enough. “You are not about to feed my son no bullshit so you can feel better about what you’re doing.”

“What you want me to send you the schedule? I got to work. Fuck! This is why I left your ass-“

“Left me? Nigga I threw that ring and your fucking shit to the left-“

“-You don’t trust me.”

“Oh, cause you gave me so many reasons to trust you.” You laughed. “There was Brenda, Latisha, Linda, Felicia, about three Kims’-“

He chuckled, “What you DMX now? Fuck this, I’ll tell Allison to come pick my son up since you want to be stupid-“

You rolled your eyes, “You tell Allison if she steps her drunk ass on my porch, it’ll be the last thing-“

“Mommy.”

You stopped immediately, straightening up and wiping your eyes. You didn’t even know you had starting to cry. “Hey, you done?” You said turning around when you were straight.

“I just gotta pee, and you’re in front of the door.” Marcus was crossed leg and shifting.

You laughed. “My bad, go. And wash your hands.” You called after him.

You sighed when he was out of sight and put the phone back on your ear. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Good… So stop being stupid, and just be reasonable.”

“I’m taking you to court. Bye Yohan.” You hung up the phone, and turned it completely off, sitting on the stairs and putting your head in your hands. Your eyes wet your hands, but you were not crying. You would not cry anymore.

After a moment, there was movement next to you, and then warmth. You looked to the side and Terry was there, silent, not looking at you. Just there. It was oddly comforting although he was a stranger.

You chuckled, “You heard all of that?”

He shrugged and shook his head, “Heard what? …I’m just resting.” He said, still not looking at you. You shook your head.

“On my porch?”

“I’m tired. My porch is like…all the way over there.” He gestured to the right of you. “I’ve been moving all day.”

“Right.” You sniffed in, wiping your eyes. “I could spit the distance between your porch and mine.”

“1. That’s impressive. 2. Doesn’t mean I want to walk it.” He grinned then. “Let me rest, mama.”

“Fine, only because I know you’re tired.” You stood up. “And don’t call me mama. I’m not your mama.”

“My bad. …what’s your name?” He looked up at you.  “You never told me.”

“It’s Y/n. My name is Y/n.”

                It had been two years since then. And Terry turned out to be a pretty reliable neighbor as well, helping you when your tires were flat. Helping you carry in groceries. And entertaining your son’s every whim, including throwing various balls across your shared backyard.

“And you won’t fuck him why?” Keke said making you snap out of your daze. You were on a zoom call with her while working on your papers you had to finish grading. Keke might have been Yohan’s sister but she was also your friend, your best friend. “I know you ain’t still feenin for Yohan’s ugly ass.”

“Keke, please.” You said laughing. “Don’t nobody want your big head ass brother no more.”

“See that’s what you said before, then six months later there you go waddling around with Marcus in your stomach.” She laughed. “Listen, I love my bookie but I would have.” She made a sucking noise and crossed her hand across her neck. “Immediately. You know what I’m saying.”

“You stupid.”

“For real. Fuck the man. Get it over with. You know you want to. You know you going to. It’s been two years.” She grinned. “I saw how he was looking at you on the fourth. Like he wanted to bend your ass right over on that picnic table. Yes god! I would have LET HIM. You hear me?”

“Keisha.”

“I’m for real. I know he fuck good. When he over you with all that weight, and he-“ She clapped her hands in a rhythm that reminded you of an intense session of love making. “You can grab onto all that back he got and just let go. Just EXHALE GIRL. Woosah bitch.”

“Keisha.”

“I know he gone talk you through it too. …you gotta tell me all about it. Or hell move out the way and I’ll give it a go.”

“You’re married.” You nearly laughed but kept it in.

“Damn you right.-“

You laughed then.

“You gotta do it, for the both of us.”

“You don’t sleep where you…well sleep. He’s my neighbor and if things get messy, then I can’t escape it.”

And things always found a way of being messy with you. There was the guy from the supermarket, no you didn’t heed the warning that Troy shouted up at Robin in Waiting to Exhale, nor the warning from the cannibal movie from Hulu. He ended up having a girlfriend, who would go on to flatten your tires.

And then there was Kevin, the principal from your son’s school. You had only gone on one date with him, and it was HORRIBLE. So bad that you blocked him, and now ignore him at PTA meetings. And then there was…

Damn, maybe it was you.

“Yall are grown. If you tell him, hey big fine 6’3 ass man-

“He’s not 6’3.”

“Oh bitch, he’s 6’3. I know a tall nigga when I see one. Anyway, if you just tell the man, hey I just want to fuck…no strings, I know he’ll be cool with it.”

“I’m not a hoe, Keisha.”

“Who said you was! This is grown people business. Grown! If you set expectations in the beginning then no one gets hurt. Grown People business girl. Now…what you waiting for?”

You looked out the window, Terry and Marcus was still playing outside, neither one of them minding your 30 minute instruction that you had given earlier but you weren’t mad. It made you feel warm inside that your son trusted Terry so much, and that Terry was so warm to your son.

“Keisha…I don’t know.” You still were looking outside when Terry looked back at you too. He grinned, and you smiled. Someone could end up hurt…and more than likely it would be you.

“Girl…I told you. Set expectations up front, get what you want and if you don’t want it no more….no hard feelings. Grown.-“

You nodded, deciding to yourself.

“Grown people business.” -----

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE😊😊😊😊😊I LOVE KIRBY I LOVE IT SO MUCH💞💞💞💞💞I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT IT💥💥💥💥💞HOW ITS A MIX OF CUTE SILLY AND SUDDENLY FINAL BOSS BODY HORROR EVERYONE IN THIS GAME IS TRAUMATIZED I COULD TALK ABOUT IT ALL DAY IF YOU LET HRRRRR HUGGING MY KIRBY PLJSH RN AT 6:35 IN THE MORNING I LOVE KIRBY💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

Have a compressed pixel version bc i thought it was funny

Jack unfastened the buttons of Miriam's bustier with one hand while the other unlocked their apartment. He pulled Miriam inside and pressed her against the door. Her back hit the doorknob and painful grunt against Jack's lips.

Without breaking their kiss, Miriam helped him out of his short sleeve button-down. She tugged it off, tossing on the ground. Jack picked her up by the back of her thighs and carried her to the couch.

They were so caught up with other that they didn't see Dora and Daisy watching Bluey on there. Jack set Miriam down on the edge of the couch and undid her pants. Miriam lost balance and fell back, nearly falling on Daisy.

Daisy began hitting her with her two front paws like when she was pouncing onnJack in the promo video they did for Lovin on Me. Dora sniffed Miriam

"Jack, help me." Miriam said, struggling to get Daisy off her.

"20k that Daisy wins." He said.

"Or you get her off me and I'll let you hit it tonight." She said.