#‘you said you would book my appointment by last Friday it’s now Wednesday’

[artemiseia]

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[theretirementstory]

16/06/2024. Bonjour à tous, hoping I find you all well. It’s a cloudy day and we are expecting rain but as I always say it’s good for the garden.

Talking of the garden, Monique came to visit me yesterday and before I knew it she was outside clearing all the large weeds from the raised beds and planters. What a difference it made and she found a lone nigella, which she replanted, then took a piece from the dianthus and planted that with a little pansy in the raised planter. Normally this is where I grow my salad stuffs but flowers will do for this year.

I had a message from Pauline, she is in town and is going to come visit me this morning. Funnily enough I have so much to do this weekend and I will have had two visitors!

This last week has been full of hospital visits, PET scan one day, trip to Paris hospital another day, where they were concerned because my platelets are not rising at all despite having transfusions, injections and tablets. I had a day at home on Wednesday but then it was transfusions in Troyes hospital and Friday back to Paris for a consultation and platelet transfusion.

I was also given the result of the PET scan which was not the result I was hoping for! However, the doctor said that although the CAR-T cell treatment hadn’t done all that was expected of it, it had not been a failure. I require further treatment and am going back into hospital in Paris tomorrow. Fortunately it’s only for three days this week and three days next (at the moment).

My grandchildren are with “The Photographer” this weekend, what a couple of jokers they are. Friday evenings video call saw my granddaughter telling me her name was SIX. When I said “Hello Six” she laughed so much. She was pointing to her brother and saying “his name is two”, but he didn’t want that and said “my name is PIZZA!” Oh that made me laugh so much.

“The Photographer” starts a new job tomorrow and the first week will be taken up with training, meeting colleagues and generally easing into the work. Good luck with that. I will be thinking about you.

“The Trainee Solicitor” has had three days at Uni and getting up at 5:15am is no joke (I can vouch for that!). However, he is half way through the course, has two days there this week, so that isn’t so bad.

“The Reconnect Navigator” has had a painful back for a while and she managed to get an appointment to have it assessed. It is sciatica but she is being sent for an MRI scan as he thinks there is other damage too.

Yesterday “The Trainee Solicitor and “The Reconnect Navigator” went to see “my grandchildren and share a lunch with the two “Fathers” for Father’s day today. Apparently “The Reconnect Navigator” was flavour of the month for the children as they had been arguing, before she arrived, as to who would play with her first. Normally my grandson is shy with her but not this weekend. Of course, “The Trainee Solicitor” is a favourite no matter what and I am sure he was given big hugs by both of them.

“The Jetsetter” should be back from Majorca now and it will be nice to find out how the Spanish treated the English while she was there. There has been a lot in the newspapers about “tourists go home” and it will be interesting to hear from a tourist.

I am back with a couple of songs, the first is the brilliant “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” by Roberta Flack way back in 1972. The song is from one of my favourite films “Play Misty For Me” with Clint Eastwood.

The second song, is one that I have loved from when I first heard it, it’s the amazing Nina Simone with “Ain’t Got No, I Got Life” this dates back to 1968 (sorry it’s a real oldie).

I have had a message from Anie, who is currently in Aiguës Mortes on her holiday. She is having a good time with her family from Indonesia.

So that’s about it for another week, let’s hope that the news is better this coming week. I am pleased that my book delivery arrived, as I will have some books to take into hospital to read while I am resting.

Bon dimanche.

[jadevalentine-writes]

WIP Wednesday - Living in Sin - Chapter 6

It's still Wednesday in my timezone for 41 minutes and by gods I shall take advantage of it. Welcome to how much I write when I am off work and have no where to be. 😂💚💪

When Crowley woke-up, his corporation felt sore, but in a good way. It was the type of soreness that came from laying horizontal in a bed for too long. He vaguely recalled how stiff he felt after his near century-long nap. It was a small price to pay, in his opinion. Considering that sleeping in a bed was a luxury Crowley was convinced he would never experience again up until last night, he was not surprised that he may have over indulged.

With a stretch of long limbs and a yawn, he waved a hand to pull back and retie the bed curtains. And then audibly hissed when warm afternoon light assailed his eyes. He squinted them shut and buried his face back into the pillow.

For Heaven’s sake, how late was it?

Crowley smacked blindly at the nearest bedside table for his watch. Once he get a hand on it he brought it to his face and squinted.

Half-past two. In the afternoon.

He sat up like he’d been electrocuted. It’s not like he was late for an appointment with Beezlebub or some hellish duty, but he was definitely not used to sleeping the day away. He flung back the covers and was upright in a blink of an eye. A well timed snap as he stepped through the bedroom doorway and his pajamas were swapped for one of his usual outfits. On a whim he decided to wear a black turtleneck instead of his usual shirt under his jacket. Then he was thundering down the stairs, calling for Aziraphale.

“Aziraphale? Aziraphale?”

“In here,” came a reply from the front of the shop.

Crowley huffed as he emerged from the backroom. The angel was sitting at his desk, a book in hand, as though he had not left the position since last night. Crowley strode into his field of view and put his hands on his hips.

“Good afternoon,” Aziraphale said warmly with a smile. “Did you sleep well?”

“Why did you let me sleep almost a full day?”

Aziraphale tilted his head to one side slightly, like a flummoxed puppy that did not understand a command.

“I did not know I was supposed to wake you at a given time. And you did sleep for a full day. It was Wednesday when you went to sleep. It’s Friday now.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes at the angel and sneered. “It’s not.” When Aziraphale continued to stare blankly at him, he added, “Is it?”

“No, it’s not.” Aziraphale grinned. “It’s Thursday. Just wanted to poke a bit of fun.”

“You’re a right bastard, you know,” Crowley grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“I know, but I think someone once told me they liked me more because of it.” Aziraphale furrowed his brow and tapped a finger against his lips. “But I can’t for the life of me remember who…”

“Har har, angel, very funny. But you still haven’t answered my question of why you let me sleep so long.”

“Oh, you were serious about that?” Aziraphale sat back in his chair and delicately removed his reading glasses. “Well, what I said before was true. You never asked me to wake you at a particular time. Also, I had no reason to wake you, so why would I? You clearly needed the rest, darling.”

Crowley swallowed and looked towards the orchid behind Aziraphale, attempting to ignore the heat rising in his chest at the ‘darling’. Aziraphale had been calling him ‘darling’ and ‘my dear’ for the better part of six-thousand years. It did not mean anything. Luckily, looking at the plant reminded him of something and he was able to redirect his energy purposefully.

“What about the plants?”

Aziraphale glanced around the shop slowly. “What about them?”

“Who would have taken care of them if I’d slept the day away?”

“Crowley, I’ve already demonstrated I can take care of them, sans watering that is. If you would have slept an entire day, I would definitely wake you on the second.”

“Okay, good, fine, yes.” Crowley flopped into a corner of the sofa with a frustrated sigh. “As long as there is an upper limit to how long you’ll let me sleep. Don’t want to go abandoning you for a decade just because I’m comfortable in bed.”

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up and he scooted to the edge of his chair as he leaned towards Crowley. “Oh, does that mean the bed and everything was to your liking?”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Did you not just needle me about this last night?”

“Yes, but that was purely about aesthetics. Now that you’ve slept and partaken of the amenities, I want a full review!”

Crowley groaned and laid his head back against the sofa as he turned his eyes ceiling-ward. “I’ll need some coffee in order to deal with this.”

“Oh, good idea, my dear. I have not had a bite to eat yet today myself. Shall we pop over to Nina’s and procure something?”

“I’m sorry, you what?” Crowley asked as Aziraphale stood and straightened his waistcoat. “You haven’t eaten yet?”

“Well, no,” Aziraphale replied as he gingerly took his jacket from the coat rack where he had hung it the night before. “I was waiting for you, of course. It’s what we do. Get coffee and pastries.”

“Well, it’s what I do,” Crowley corrected as he stood and started looking around for his sunglasses. Without a word, Aziraphale pointed near the door and Crowley raised a hand in acknowledgement as he started to head to the horse statue where sure enough his glasses were resting. “I usually pick everything up.”

“I know,” Aziraphale said with a smile as he adjusted his bowtie. “Now that you’re here, though, I figured we could go together. What do you say?”

Crowley could not keep himself from smiling as he slipped on his glasses and opened the bookshop door.

“Lead the way, angel.”

[casspurrjoybell-20]

FOOLS IN LOVE - Chapter 12 - Part 1

BOOK THREE: 'Fools Fall in Love' Trilogy

*Warning - Adult Content*

Noah Wright

Even though I wasn't going to act on my unresolved feelings for Sam, I did, however, need to set one thing right.

I sat next to Sam at the beginning of class on Friday.

He looked at me with surprise and then his face morphed back into his high and mighty expression and faced the front of class.

"I think you missed a few stairs, your seat is," he threw his thumb behind his shoulder.

"Further back."

"I just wanna say something," I paused, thinking he'd respond but he didn't, so I continued...

"Wesley and I work together," I stated firmly.

"Hmm," was all Sam commented.

"I started working at Rosemary's, like two months ago and a week before that is when I saw Wesley, for the first time since... since ya' know..."

'That time'

Sam faced me.

"Since you cheated on me?"

My heart squeezed in my chest by the fist of guilt.

"Sam, I didn't cheat..."

"Everyone's definition of 'cheating' is different. You flirting with someone other than me, you letting someone kiss your cheek other than me and letting someone dance provocatively, on you other than me, was cheating in my eyes, Noah."

"I know. I'm sorry," and I hoped he heard how genuine my words were but there was no going back from that night.

"Why are you even talking about this?" Sam asked bitterly.

"Because after Wednesday, I didn't want you to think the worst. That night at the club was the last time I spoke to him..."

"Besides the morning after when you texted him," Sam pointed out.

'Oh my fucking God.'

I wanted to tape his mouth shut, so I could speak without him inputting every shitty thing I had done.

"That was the last time I spoke to him. I just didn't want you thinking I got with him right after us breaking up."

"I don't care, Noah. I'm dating Benjamin Hernandez, now. Who you date is none of my business or concern."

'Ouch.'

Obviously Sam's right but the bluntness in his tone made his true statement hurt even worse.

"You're right. I just..."

Okay fuck-head, now stand up and go back to your seat, you're a fucking fool.

"Wanted you to know," and I left it at that but when I stood up and turned to go to my seat, Sam said...

"Wait," and I looked back at him.

"Thank you for telling me."

I nodded and went to my seat in the way back of the class.

I felt better knowing he knew the truth.

Whether he believed me or not was on him.

I hoped he believed me.

*********

You know that moment when you decided to do something and then when you're doing it, you regret it?

That was me in my therapy appointment after class with my cell-phone in my hand.

My knee was bouncing up and down and I stared at the text message I sent.

"This was fucking stupid," I muttered.

"Noah, set your cell-phone down and let's discuss something else," Dr. Zinko suggested.

"All you're doing by focusing on it is creating more anxiety. Your mother could be busy."

I scoffed.

I highly doubted that my relentless mother was busy.

Like seriously, what the fuck?

All over my ass the past month and then when I decide to reach out to her with the number she gave me, she takes her damn time to respond?

I took a deep breath before I could chuck my cell-phone against the wall and set it down on the side-table instead.

Facing Dr. Zinko once again, he spoke confidently.

"She'll respond. Though I still think you should've called her."

I didn't say anything on that, too distracted on the thought of, what if she does reply and wants to meet up?

Did I even want to hear her out?

Would anything she could say make a difference?

"Tell me about your week. Last we talked was Sam being back. How's that going?" my therapist asked, pushing his glasses further up.

Yeah, he was the stereotypical therapist that you see in movies, tan slacks, sweater vest, dress shoes, glasses with thick lenses, balding.

I took a breath and decided to tell him my recent discovery on Sam and his lack of eating and the occurrence with Wesley.

"Well, I think bringing him breakfast was a nice start, though I think you could've picked better words than 'fuck off and eat'."

"I know but I was just so, I don't know, anxious and I don't ever fucking get anxious but lately around Sam I get all riled up. Like the first couple weeks of when I first met Sam, I would snap at him and I couldn't help it and that's how I feel now."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I know why that is and I fucking hate it. I'm in love with Sam, probably always will be if he's around and I honestly just need him to fuck off because I feel like a fucking pussy being hung up on him while he's disgustingly happy with Boring Benjamin Hernandez and every damn Tinder or Bumble bullshit date I go on, they're just... they're not Sam."

"You're not always going to be in love with him," he reassured me.

"You know that this is a grieving process in which you have to find a healthy way to move forward in your life. I don't agree with the meaningless sex, all you're doing afterwards or even during, is comparing them to Sam. That won't help you move on. You need some you time."

"I had 'me time' and guess what? I still thought about Sam, while jerking off in the shower."

Dr. Zinko chuckled.

"I meant more of meditation or finding an artistic outlet or working out. All of those can be great for clearing the mind."

"I don't think arts and crafts will clear my mind."

My therapist shrugged.

"You never know, Noah."

I was going to say something to that when my cell-phone started buzzing.

I grabbed in from the side table.

My mother was calling me.

"She's calling me," I said.

My knee bouncing up and down with my heart beating fast.

"Take a deep breath and answer it," Dr. Zinko instructed.

I did as told and swiped the green icon on my iPhone.

"Hello?" I placed her on speaker so Dr. Zinko could hear.

"Noah, I got your text. I'm free to talk when you are."

"Um... okay. Uh... what about tomorrow? For lunch."

"Yes, I'd love that. I miss you."

I rolled my eyes.

"Okay, well... I'll text you where," and I hung up, putting my cell-phone face down on the side table.

My therapist gave me his signature disapproval expression.

"I know, I know. I shouldn't have hung up like that but hearing her say she misses me, I didn't want to hear that."

"That's valid. So, what are you going to say to her tomorrow at lunch?"

"Honestly... I have no fucking clue."

[jodilin65]

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 1998 Thanks to Benadryl, I backed my schedule up by 6 hours. I had gotten up at noon yesterday. Too late to make my October 5th appointment with Melanie, but too early to flip it all around by then. I also want to go out this Friday doll hunting, as planned (I have to remember to take Kleenex with me, though, because the outdoors is horrible at this time for allergies). If I hadn’t taken Benadryl last night at 9:00, I wouldn’t have crashed till around 4 AM, but with the Benadryl, I was out before midnight and I got up at 6 AM. Just in time to hear the bitch say, “Huh? No, I…” (I couldn’t hear the rest)

I don’t know why the cock bothered showing up this morning. Bill took the bitch to work/school this morning, then came back here. Then the cock came. I saw someone a couple of times walk around the back of Bill’s car, but couldn’t make out for sure who it was or what the hell they were doing. Then the cock left, leaving Bill to go about mistake-sitting, as usual. But why would the cock come by if it wasn’t needed to mistake-sit or cart its bitch to work/school?

I got a kick out of how yesterday’s horoscope said that a parent who’s aware of one’s concerns is willing to behave differently. Right! Dureen would have to die and come back as a totally different person before she behaved differently. Tom was teasing me with the atoning for my sins thing since yesterday was the Jewish New Year. I’m jokingly thinking - Dureen deary, are you asking God to forgive you for being such a selfish, hypocritical little control freak?

Later…

I’m writing longhand now in the book Mom gave me. The one I’ll take to Vegas with me with the pitiful artwork. The reason I’m using this book now is that I have the computer tied up burning away another CD. I figured what the heck? I’m sure it’ll crash at some point, even though I defragmented drive E and it’s already written 9 tracks.

I had Tom bring me in the scale since I knew my weight was up there anyway (as of yesterday I piled on pounds of water) and so I could begin another test. Tom felt I’d be less hungry if I wasn’t weighing myself daily. Well, I want to see if I remain less hungry because of the mineral pill, or if pulling the scale back out brings the hunger back.

Wow! It’s on track 11!

Anyway, the mineral pill’s been doing so well at curbing my hunger, that I’ve decided that two TV dinners a day plus a snack are too much for me. I’m gonna be cutting out one of those TV dinners.

So, what was my weight? 118 pounds. A surprise because I thought I’d be in the low 120s.

Track 12.

I know why I was so bummed out about my weight for the last year or so. It’s because I was setting unrealistic and unachievable goals for myself. Setting a goal of 100 pounds was ridiculous and totally asking to fail. I’m a nearly 33-year-old non-smoker, so to get under 110-115 pounds is a complete joke. My body can’t handle being that low in this day and age.

So, with these facts in mind, I’ve set a realistic, achievable goal weight of weighing 115-120 pounds. This is perfect for me now and something my body can feel comfortable at. It’s a natural, reasonable weight, so I can continue looking like a middle-aged woman should look.

Holy shit! It’s on track 14 and it looks like this CD may happen after all since it’s nearly done. I only have 18 tracks on this one. It’s like it has a mind of its own and it only creates a CD if it feels like it.

Track 15.

I went into the file box and browsed through the treadmill’s owner’s manual and was shocked to discover two things. One, it is not a weight-loss device, but just a fitness device. Two, all they recommend is 12-15 minutes every other day. Why not 30-60 minutes every day? What’s wrong with that? Why do they recommend a day of rest every other day? I can see a day of rest every other day from target toning or weightlifting exercises, but why from walking? And why warm up and cool down, as they recommend, just to go walking? Lastly, I do more than 12-15 minutes every other day, so if this is supposed to be a “fitness” device, then why am I so unfit?

Later…

Got lucky and the CD was a success. I’m defragging now, then will power down and restart. Should I try another one today? I have a feeling it’ll crash, but we’ll see.

Drive E is now 83% defragmented now.

No stereos today or yesterday - wow! Just the usual sales calls and their harassment campaign.

Later…

OK, I’m trying another CD. If this works, I’ll only have one more music CD I’ll want to make up, then I can decide whether or not the convos/edits are worth burning.

I’ll go get my book now and bring it back here to the back room so I can keep an eye on the computer.

Oh, first - I made up Mary a little get-well card. Well, sort of. It was one of the ones sent from Doe and Art.

OK, gonna grab me a cup of my Café Vienna and my book.

Later…

It’s utterly gorgeous out there right now. Not too cool, not too hot. Perfect weather for the mistake to hang out back and to have doors and windows open. I just heard the mistake, but fortunately, I’m not out back very often. I have no reason to be. From now on, especially since quitting smoking, I don’t go out back but to let the cat in and dump the recyclable stuff.

It’s nice not seeing White Paws for a couple of days. Not since I sprayed her with Raid. She’ll be back, though.

Tom’s gonna pick up a feeder for Blackie for when we go to Vegas. He could get his own food, but not like WP can because male cats aren’t as good hunters as female cats are. I don’t like the idea of knowing that WP is gonna help herself to this food, and maybe daddy cat and the ants (although Tom will spray for ants) but at least Blackie won’t go hungry. We’ll be putting it at the side of the house where the birds won’t find it. I hope not, anyway. If there’s anything that really annoys me about Blackie, it’s that this cat is such a whiner. Just about every single fucking time I go outside he whines and whines till I let him inside. It’s really annoying.

Tom just got up and is going to stay up for a while.

You know, I’ve counted food calories, but I’ve neglected to count my coffee calories. Not regular coffee, but the gourmet ones. I have about 8 cups a day and that’s about 500 calories right there. No wonder it’s been so easy keeping my goal weight. If I eat 900 calories worth of food and no-calorie or low-calorie beverages, that’s one thing. It’s another to have 900 calories worth of food and an additional 500 in beverages. All this time I’ve been figuring myself at consuming 900-1000 calories a day, but I’ve really been taking in around 1400-1500 calories a day.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 1998 How utterly amazing - not one stereo’s banged by today. Yet. That drug cruiser’s gonna be by any sec no doubt.

Just like Joebitch sticks to her usual weekend routine of a shitload of cars coming and going, it’s sticking to its usual weekday routine, too. Bill sits the mistake, the cock brings its bitch home. I doubt the cock’s picking up its bitch in the mornings, though.

Guess I really terrorized that cock out of this neighborhood. He won’t even park in the bitch’s driveway. Too bad, Mikey. You came into this neighborhood, you treated me like shit, this is what you get.

Mary had her gallbladder removed today and now they’re checking it for cancer, which I don’t vibe. Evie has to have hers removed, too.

In Evie’s email to me, she wanted to know if we could attend Parker’s baptism. I told her we couldn’t make it, which is probably true with our schedules, but the further truth is, neither of us cares to go. I mean, how fucking boring! She said she hoped she wasn’t offending anyone, but that she didn’t invite Jackie and Jim because she doesn’t like the way they do things. I told her I thoroughly agree with her and that I think they’re spoiled, selfish little users. Don’t want to know them, don’t want to talk to them, don’t want to see them. I also reminded her, although I’m sure she’s heard about it, that Tom’s put his foot down and is gonna live his life. Not spend his time and money on others who are too lazy to do their own work and live their own lives. David and Evie haven’t really been the big users of the family. Not compared to Pam, Jackie, Mary, Evelyn, and of course, good old Marge.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 1998 Yes, it’s been two whole days since I last wrote. That’s because I’ve been tied up with the CD-making task again, and as usual, it’s hit or miss, but mostly miss. I feel, though, that I’ve gotten just about all I want onto CD, so I don’t need to waste my time with it anymore. I don’t really need to have the edits and convos on CD, since those don’t mean what they used to mean to me. It’s a costly and wasteful project since it takes 20 CDs just to make 5-7. I’ve got about 15 CDs made up now, and I had to go through about 25-40 to get them.

From how I feel and from what my measurements say, I’ve gained some weight. I’ve got to be no less than 118 pounds now. Why, I don’t know. It’s a total mystery to me. I’ve been sticking to my diet like glue, thanks to this mineral supplement, I’ve been regular, and I’ve been exercising, so I don’t know what the fuck’s going on. Once again, I cannot deal with this shit year after year. I have to be fat if I’m gonna remain a non-smoker and the sooner I accept that, the easier my life will be. It’s just not in my nature to be thin anymore. Not at this age and not without the cigarettes.

Wish I had my water pills now, but tomorrow I’ll call in a refill. It’s mostly in my gut, although my legs and hips are pretty swollen, too. And I’ve been exercising these areas, too, but like I said, exercising by doing target toning is just a complete waste of my time. It may work for most people, but God sure as hell won’t let it work for me. Initially, I lost weight and began toning up a bit when I first started the exercises and the mineral supplement but then went right back to how I normally am. This is typical, too. Having something work at first, then quit working on me, is nothing new.

Later…

What is it with cats liking abuse? I spray White Paws with bug spray, I kick her, I chase her, yet she keeps coming back for more. Does she really like it, or is she just that stupid?

Caddy Kid’s back. Yeah, I knew it was just a matter of time. It gets worse, too, because now we’ve got some other car cruising the neighborhood for drugs. This same car banged by really loud over and over and over again this afternoon. What? Do they cruise up and down a street hoping someone will come out of their house to offer them drugs? So, since it’s a nightmare again with the stereos booming and thumping by several times a day, I really must have my own stereo on if I want to get any sleep.

Joebitch gets weirder and weirder by the day. Saturday and Sunday nights a red car came to visit. Why are there so many cars in and out of there on weekends? Am I ever gonna get a weekend without having to listen to the constant door slamming?

I just hope that they don’t move till we do and that things will stay the way they have been as far as the music goes. As long as I don’t hear music a million times a day from over there, then I know they’ll be sticking around. I never thought I’d find myself hoping that they don’t move, but I’ve decided that whether or not we go first, they are going to receive the little journal excerpts I put together for them. I’m not gonna waste all that time I put into it and besides, if they’re gonna fuck with the house if they go first, they’re gonna fuck with it with or without those excerpts. In their sick minds, they have enough reason to go after the house as it is. Just the city complaints alone will do it because that’d piss them off enough.

Speaking of being pissed, I was lying in bed one night when I began to fume over Bill. Oh, how I just want 5 minutes alone with him!! Just 5 minutes! Tom says that’d just make him more aggressive. He has a point. For every time my mother would take a pop at me, that’d be 5 more kids I’d pop in school and take it out on, but I still think that all guys like Bill need a good beating from a woman. They need to be put in place and taken down a peg or two. They need to be reminded that there are others out there tougher than them and that they’re not capable of beating on everybody. One day (I sure hope) he’s gonna pick on the wrong woman and that woman’s gonna dog him. I mean, how long can man live with the delusion that if it’s smaller than them and if it doesn’t have a dick, they can beat it? There are lots of big guys out there and lots of tiny women that could kick their asses so bad they’d wish those ladies killed them. That’s not the main point, though, in this sick fuck’s case. Remember, he doesn’t beat Sarah and Becky. It’s because Lisa is part of “the other guy.” Bill’s also a very sick, angry little shit.

It just really pisses me off that now that I’ve put Dureen, Art and Larry totally in the past and am getting over the hurt and anger that they caused for so long, now the anger’s replaced by this fuckaroo. Is there ever an end to the thoughts of past people popping into my head and sending me into a rage? I just want to totally forget these people and move on. It’s the best thing I can do for my mental health. Cutting them off is a start, but I still have a bit of “healing” to do, so to speak. I mean, when it comes to my folks, there really isn’t any hurt or anger left. I’m just numb. They’re old news as far as I’m concerned. It’s the bullies like Bill, Larry, Ronnie, that tend to piss me off at times still, but hey, I don’t ever have to see, talk to, or be hurt or angered by these sickos ever again. And I remind myself of this fact and it helps me to get by. I may have old, bad memories, but never will there be new, bad memories in addition to the old ones. It’s all over. They can’t hurt me anymore. They can’t frustrate or piss me off anymore. They can’t hit me, they can’t lie to me, they can’t pit others against me, they can’t send me to places that treat me like a criminal, they can’t control me, they can’t threaten me, they can’t make me feel like a piece of shit.

I don’t know if I mentioned this, but my last period was the first period in many years where I didn’t need a big pad.

Today we went to the mall to look at a doll store there. They had hundreds of dolls, but only a few of them were nice, and they cost $200 - $400. They were also bigger than the ones I liked in the catalog. Friday we’re gonna check out another small store that’s not in a mall, and this place in Scottsdale that’s supposed to be one of the biggest doll stores in the country. If I don’t like what they’ve got here, or their prices, I’ll just go ahead and order from the catalog in December with my birthday/holiday money. I feel like it’s gonna take me forever to accumulate 3-4 dolls, though, no matter where I get them! Marge, you little user! Why don’t you pay for them?!

Ratsy’s in a fine mood, jumping and running all around. Hope he won’t stay the unappreciative little bastard he’s been! We got him a really cool nest and a half-log to burrow in, but so far, he’s walking on the tops of them, but not going inside them. The next is a hollow ball made of straw-like material. It’s got holes on 4 sides of it to go in and out of. The half-log is a green piece of wood that’s dome-shaped. I think the mice would like these things better. The mice like anything and everything. We got them a toy, too (they all got salt spools and Ratsy got a new pink bottle).

For the mice, we got them a bunch of color cubes you put together. You snap clear pieces into colored frames, then you build them like toy building blocks. It’s pretty cool, but a little flimsy to build, and there’s not much variety that goes into it. Not unless you had many, many pieces. Like 2-3 kits.

Got two palm tree pictures for $5. They’re in gold frames, and I like this size better because it’s easier to work with. These are around 10 x 8.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 1998 Joebitch has been a good girl, but a weird one. Is someone moving from her household? Well, I highly doubt she’s moving, because I’d vibe it, and because there’d be music like hell coming from over there, but what about that teenage boy? Is there a teenage girl living there? I remember Tom once said there was, and he’d see her leave for school in the mornings. There’s gotta be more than just her and the mistake over there. I just know there’s more over there, but if so, why don’t play ball more often for my sake?

Anyway, what I saw was a white pickup truck parked in the driveway with one box visible from the window I was peering out of. It left, then returned with what looked to be an empty flatbed. Then, it left with a lot of stuff in it and returned later emptied out. Then I saw Joebitch and the little clown talking to the two black ladies that Tom said he saw get into the truck one of the times it left, then they left and haven’t been back since. I also saw a large white blazer which left as soon as it came. It could very well be that the mother of that teenage boy, which was definitely her nephew, had to do some jail time, is now out, and is getting its boy back.

Last night at 11:00, I heard voices, and someone left from there, but didn’t see who it was. Then the bitch crashed at 11:30.

It’s just after 8:00 now and when I checked a little while ago, there were no lights on. This bitch doesn’t hit the sack early on weekends, so I’d say it’s out somewhere.

What the fuck is going on, though? Why do so many cars come and go from that place on weekends? No one loves a bitch that much, so what is it they’re getting from this bitch? It ain’t love. Is it drugs? What? Something’s going on. It used to be that the bitch may have someone over once one day of the weekend, but now, as soon as she’s home on Fridays they start coming, and they come and go like bees on both Saturdays and Sundays.

Later…

Well, well. Guess who’s here visiting? It’s Mr. Fuck! I’m not entirely sure since it’s dark, but that’s definitely a car that’s parked there, not a van or truck. And it’s also not white. I thought the bitch had been out with him, till I realized I didn’t hear/see the cock come to get its bitch, and I only heard one car door when I saw the headlights shining in the music room and paused the music to listen. Also, the living room and kitchen windows stayed dark, so it sounds to me like Joebitch called its cock from its bed, and he came running over and let himself in for a good fuck. I’m sure he still has the key, too.

What? Is this bitch afraid to be alone or something? She’s had company come and go now for nearly 10 hours. That’d drive me crazy. I’d be like - give me some space!

I forgot to mention that on Friday, Joebitch should’ve gotten some mail for a “Bill Garner.” Unless her dad opened it, and I hope not, she got a little confetti shower. I addressed it to Bill Garner and put a bogus return address. In the past, I’d never bother with return addresses. So, to the bitch, she’ll be annoyed as all hell, but won’t tie me into it. Not unless she’s one paranoid puppy. It should look like someone addressed it to her by accident, and nothing else. I put the confetti, by the way, in one of those blank cards that Doe and Art sent. I didn’t write anything on the card but a big question mark.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 1998 I’m washing the shower curtain right now, and soon I’ll try to scrub our filthy, impossible-to-clean tub.

Later…

I’m on the phone gabbing with Andy now. He’s going through his usual few subjects - Stevie Nicks, work, and going back east to be with David.

He said he’s sure he’s leaving on April 30th.

Sure. Right.

I’m typing as I’m half-listening to his non-stop garble. But he’s my pal and I love him.

He started off by saying, “I didn’t get fired, but I got complaints two days in a row.” I asked for what, figuring he’d say it was for flirting, but instead, he was rude. So, he’s gonna be taking a break from waiting tables, which has really been stressing him out lately, and which he just isn’t into anymore, he’ll be hostessing. Seating the people, instead of serving the people. They’re only gonna pay him $7 an hour, though.

He said that the reason he’s going back on April 30th is so he can hitch a ride with Joyce and Bill. That’s his aunt and uncle and they go to Vegas every year. At least he won’t have to worry about springing the cash to get back.

Later…

After just over an hour, Andy finally let me go. He could’ve easily kept going till he had to go to work at 5:30, though. We talked about the usual - Stevie, Quinn, Dave, Michelle, and work.

He still wonders about what was really going through Quinn’s mind up till he died. He did tell me that some girl was rubbing his face in the fact that his brother molested him, trying to get him to deal with it and that that seemed to cause his mind to snap to the point that the police were called. During the cop’s visit to his apartment, they noticed all his drug paraphernalia, so they returned two hours later with a warrant. It looks like he was gonna be facing some jail time.

He also told me that when he and his sister were going through his things, they found a scrapbook full of all kinds of stickers. Mostly colorful ones that children would have. That was when the sister told Andy that that was part of the pervert brother’s way of rewarding Quinn. Whenever the brother would want a sex favor, he’d give Quinn stickers for it.

He says Michelle’s wasting her time. She met some gay girl online that she’s gonna meet. Well, if this girl shows up (it might not even be a girl) she says she’ll be happy enough to settle for friendship if the girl doesn’t turn her on. That’s what she says, but it’s not that easy, as Andy pointed out. She’s gonna be too pissed if she isn’t attracted to her. You get all psyched up to meet someone, then find them to be ugly, or at least not attractive, and you’re too let down and pissed to want to be all buddy-buddy with them. See, Michelle’s only 24, so she’s now learning the things I learned at her age. She’ll learn, though, and get used to reality at some point. At least I hope she does since she can’t change it.

Later…

Tom went to work an hour ago, but he’ll be back at 9:30. (I hope) It’s just that end-of-the-month bullshit he has to deal with. I say I hope he’ll be in then because rather than eating my second TV dinner, he’ll be bringing in my weekend treat of a small order of fries and a cappuccino shake. The shake may play on my tummy a bit, as is dairy’s favorite thing to do with me, but it’ll be worth it. I just hope he doesn’t get held up at work till 11:30. That happens to him sometimes, so, if he’s not here by 10:30, I’ll just go ahead and eat a TV dinner.

The Lopezs sure did get themselves a hell of a spotlight in their backyard. I was in the back room when I saw light reflecting on the house across the alley and went out to check it out. This light is really damn bright. Brighter than the freeloader’s security light. I think this one’s motion-censored, too.

I wonder if Tom’s back muscle strain will enable us to go back to screwing around till the next thing comes up to bump us out of our plans/schedule. Still haven’t been as horny as I used to be, still don’t want a kid, thank God.

Tom isn’t the only injured party here, believe it or not. I have mild pulled muscles in the backs of my thighs, and major pulled ones in the area in front of the armpits. The muscles that go down into the tits. It wouldn’t prevent me from screwing, though.

Still walking every day, although I do take 1-2 days off a week. Still about 113-115 pounds from what I can guess and the mineral pill’s still curbing 80% of the problem I was having with constant, intense hunger.

It’s Friday night, so the stereos are out. Someone’s been banging by for 3 evenings in a row at around 6:30, but when I run to look, I never see a car. I don’t think it’s Caddy Kid, because I’d see him. Also, Caddy Kid would bang by either three times a day or no times a day. This one’s doing it just once. The music doesn’t last for long and it’s not as loud either, so maybe it’s a block away. Or not driving past both the side and front of the house, since we’re on the corner. Maybe he comes up the side, but then turns the other way and doesn’t go by the front.

Measles really knows she’s my favorite bird. I put some seed on the block wall and she dove right into it. Whenever some of the others tried to sneak a bite at the sides of her, I shooed them away with a wave of my arm. Meanwhile, she didn’t even flinch. It’s like she knew I was guarding her.

Later…

Tom got in early and we just ate our weekend treat.

I cannot believe that I’m just about a week away from my first anniversary of quitting smoking. It’s unbelievable. I never thought I’d see this day. Tom did, though. He said he knew it was inevitable. He also says it’s inevitable that we’ll have a kid. I don’t want one, though, although that’d make me more eligible in God’s eyes. If Tom were right, but I know he’s not, then that’d mean I’d have to get fixed because of health problems. The only way I’d let them fix me is if it were necessary due to health problems/risks, but I don’t see how the hell there can be a connection. I’ve never heard of sterility causing health problems.

Andy said that for the longest time, he’d ask himself what his purpose in life was. Then, he realized that there were two purposes - to show Quinn that a man can love another man, and to lead me out here and to Tom and all that. Well, it sure is true that if it weren’t for him I’d never be out here. God would either have to find some other way to get me out here and to Tom or send Tom back east to me there.

I know Andy won’t move back east, but a bigger part of me wishes he would. He wouldn’t call me as much, although he’s improved with that. But talking once a month would be better for me than once a week. Hell, I could go months, but still, talking once a month would make our talks more special.

He’d also have my letters to look forward to, and I’d look forward to sending them.

Lastly, I’d get to laugh at him in the winter, which he gave me permission to do.

Except for Lisa, he left things behind. There are his parents, his brothers, nieces, nephews, the beach, other people he knows, bars he knows, etc. Although, if he and David hit it off, I doubt they’d go to bars. David lives in a house that he shares with two other guys. These two other guys are a couple, I believe, and they own the house. Or one of them does. As Andy told David (this is totally understandable) he doesn’t really feel comfortable about moving in with people he doesn’t know, so he and David are gonna look for a place of their own when Andy gets there. He says David’s gonna support him till he gets a job.

I hope I’m wrong on two things. I hope he really does go back. And I hope he and David have a great relationship. It’s sad, though, to see Andy have to give up this beautiful weather and his home here, to have the slightest shot at love. A person should be able to find love anywhere, but then again, I sure as hell didn’t find anyone like Tom back there and I don’t think there’s such a thing as a Tom S anywhere else. Not just back there.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 24, 1998 Today was a busy, yet productive day. I changed the mice and rats’ cages (did a neat new setup), did a quick little load of laundry for Tom, did the dishes, and made a little booklet of scanned pictures for Mom, Mary, and Dave. That scanner is one of the best investments we ever made. I scanned about 12 pages, each with two pictures per page, of animals and cage setups. Mostly pictures of Gizzy, Teddy Bear, Bunny and Spunky. I let them know I’d soon make a booklet with pictures of the cat, rat, and current GP.

Tom’s mom called while I was in the bathroom and left a message saying she didn’t think he should do any more work since his back’s bad. That was nice of her to consider him like that.

Tom says they’re gonna illegalize unavailable calls. Most unavailable calls are sales and it’s that way so that people will be more likely to answer and get suckered into something than they would if they could see the name/number of these assholes. They’re already illegal in Texas. All businesses must show their name and numbers. When we move we’ll go back to having two lines. One for the computer and for people we have to give our number to, but don’t want to be harassed by, like credit card companies. See, if we give Sears our number, for example, they go and give it to other companies, so since a lot of companies sell their customer list, it just keeps escalating till every sales company out there has our number. Two lines will also be good if Lisa calls and Tom wants to go on AOL while we’re talking.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 1998 The cock came and got its bitch this morning and of course, Bill’s here now. I didn’t see the cock and bitch, but I’m sure the bitch will be dropped off in the afternoon by its cock, too.

Sometimes I want to say I’m around 110 pounds, other times 115 pounds. Well, I don’t know what I am. I just know I’m not below 110 pounds or over 120 pounds.

My allergies are on the fritz again. Bad time in Arizona for that.

Yesterday, I said to myself, my teeth are just now losing their soreness, and in just 12 days, I gotta be made sore all over again. Bummer!

Got some corny emails from Evie. A couple of stupid stories. One’s about hugs and the other is about burdens.

I’m still furious about our daughter. What? I spend 32 years being angry at my family, get over that, and now I have to be angry at his family? Thanks, God.

Maybe Tom could’ve mowed by now, could’ve fixed the back screen door, could’ve done a lot of things that we need to do around the house if he weren’t so busy having to live that asshole’s life for her. Yeah, he’ll be getting off of work in about a half-hour, then he’ll be heading over to her house to do yet more work for her.

I wonder why he stopped over at Mary’s to eat lunch, though? He said he was in the area and stopped there, rather than at our daughter’s house, but I thought he was supposed to have washed his hands clean of that user. Well, maybe he meant he’d still associate with her, but not spend another $4,000 on her or hours and hours of work, either. Hours that add up to months, even years.

The only thing that I believe will absorb some of this hurt, but mostly anger, is just not gonna happen. And that’d be our daughter paying half of our outstanding bills, giving him a few hundred to just blow on whatever he wants, and buying me a few of those dolls I want.

Again, that’s not gonna happen, and I’ll do almost anything for Tom’s family out of my love and respect for my husband (not buy her thousands of more dollars on things, but attend her funeral and things like that), but other than doing anything he may request of me, I don’t ever want to see his fucking family again and I can’t wait for the day that user dies.

Our daughter can’t give us back the time we’ve lost due to her, but she can give us back the money we’ve lost due to her. I’m surprised Tom’s not pushing for her to pay us some of the money back that she owes us and that she used us for. He’d push to get his money back if a company ripped him off of that amount of money, so why not her?

Later…

I had to take some Benadryl which put me out for a two-hour nap since I couldn’t stop sneezing.

Just walked 10 minutes and added those 10 minutes to the 5 minutes I’ve already walked. I’ll do more, too. Walking and playing the tiles game sure beats walking to music or reading while walking. It’s the quickest time-passer. It makes walking a half-hour seem like walking for a few minutes. Of course, I break up that 20 minutes to a half-hour over the course of the day.

Speaking of working out, well, I learned two new things about coffee. I learned that caffeine enhances a workout. Something to do with how it affects the central nervous system. It’s also a mild diuretic. No wonder I have to pee so much when I drink it. Even decaf coffee makes me pee like hell.

Tom brought the animals (except the cat) a treat today when he went to pick up sawdust. He got more nibble sticks, and also some Cheetos. There are orange ones and green ones. It said on the bag that it was for guinea pigs, hamsters, gerbils, mice and rats. Velvet and Ratsy didn’t seem to care for the orange ones, but they ate the green ones. The mice seem to like both.

He said he saw the perfect nest for Ratsy there that he’ll take me to see sometime. Right now he’s curled up in dreamland in the old plastic ball. He’s too big for this ball, though. It’s really only good for hamsters and gerbils. The mice never cared for the ball. They just sit there, rather than roam around in it.

Tom’s back is doing better. He said when he keeps moving, it’s OK, but when he’s still, it gets stiff.

He was able to work at our daughter’s house and says things are going as scheduled and he should be done tomorrow. Thank God!

He said he’s determined to get going with doing stuff for us and with living our lives.

We had another chat, which was good, about her and the money and all that. He reminded me that whether or not she knowingly took advantage of Tom for his money (which she never needed because she’s got 100 grand in the bank) or did so due to her illness, that money’s coming back because we’ll be getting about $20,000-$30,000 when she dies. True. And what goes around does come around. I really believe that. At least I do for most people. Someday those freeloaders are gonna make a reasonable request of someone and they’re gonna get shit on for it. Someone’s gonna bother them and stress them out someday. Fortunately, I’ve paid for all the people I woke up with my prank calls and I’ve paid for that child I’ll never have waking me up as I woke my folks up, but it’s gonna be another several months before I pay for the annoying calls I made. Remember, I have to pay at least 4 times over for the things I do. Got lots of more sales calls to be bothered by!

So, as Tom told me he feels he’s paid his debt to his dad, but it was something that he, at least in his mind, had to do. He’d hang out with his father because he was his friend, but when he hangs out with his mother, it’s because he’s being the “good son.” So, he’ll continue to visit his mom, but he’s not gonna give her hours of his time and thousands of dollars. He can at least visit her because what’s gone on with her is a totally different situation than what I went through with my family. His mother doesn’t abuse him in any way.

Later…

The cock’s on the street. Bill’s still here, too, but I expect he’ll slam out any sec. He’s parked outside of the carport, though, so I won’t hear his door so much.

That bitch is just like our daughter. Nothing but a user. Even if Bill has no wife and no life, you think he wants to put in all those hours of work in taking care of that little mistake and getting no money for it? I don’t think so. She’s using him.

Know what else shocks me? The fact that the cock doesn’t approach and leave the house blasting music. I mean if it’s on the street, what can I do, right? I’m surprised that once he gets as close as two houses away when he’s coming and that once he pulls out into the street when he’s leaving, he doesn’t really blast it. Maybe the bitch really doesn’t like the music real loud, because although she’s been with him when his bass was thumping, she’s never been with him when it’s really thumping. That’s basically his thing. Guess that bitch really does want to keep that house bad. Fortunately, I still vibe us moving before they do, thank God, so I can make my little delivery and not have to worry about them damaging the house.

Later…

If Andy really moves in April, though I know he won’t, then either Tom or I am right about moving in March or June. Or somewhere really close to March and June, if old patterns stick. As Andy pointed out, we’d always move within a few months of each other. So, if patterns stick, one of us should be right and I hope it’s him, of course. I just hope that it’s quiet till we split and that we go before our lovely freeloaders do!

Speaking of old patterns sticking, it should be quiet this winter. Normally, I’d get compensated for all this quiet time I’ve been soaking up, but I never seem to move out of a noisy situation. Except for the NHA. I’m not saying there won’t be enough basketball games, but it’s always after I’ve gotten a neighbor to quiet down that one of us moves. Not always, but usually. If things keep going as they have, though, the freeloaders should stay quiet as far as the music goes till they move. Or till we do. If they were moving right now, though, there’d be music like you wouldn’t believe. So, if I suddenly start getting based out, that’ll mean they’re moving, because then what would they care anymore? Not that they ever did care about me. Just themselves. They’ll probably revert back to their old ways after we move if we do move first. I don’t know if the cock will move back in, but it’ll spend nights there, which I’m surprised it doesn’t do now, and the music will be like old times whenever he does come and go. Same with the bitch’s cronies.

Later…

Today and yesterday were easier as far as the hunger goes. I hope that since I can’t be hunger-free every day I can at least be OK most days. I’m walking, doing inner thigh, hip, and arm exercises, and watching the calories. I’d guess my weight to be about 115 pounds now. My guess as to what I’ll weigh when I weigh myself next is 112-115 pounds. Wish I could say I’d be no higher than 110 pounds, but nope.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 1998 This is unbelievable. I expected to remain in the high one-teens to the low 120s until I weighed myself again in mid-October. You know, like 117-122 pounds. When I woke up, though, I was noticeably thinner. Thinner than I ever have been since gaining weight, I think. My hips are down to a 35”! According to what I’ve kept track of on the calendar, my hips were 37” when I was 122 pounds and 36” when I was 117 pounds. After calculating, wouldn’t me having my hips at 35” put me at around 111 pounds? But could I really be down that low? Do I look it? I’ll have to ask Tom.

Meanwhile, I also almost buttoned up a pair of shorts that I couldn’t even come close to zipping, let alone buttoning. I could pull the material at the waist within 2” of touching and that was it. Now, I can zip them up and almost button them. If I tried hard enough, I’m sure I could button them, but not without squashing my kidneys and all that. No thanks.

Lastly, there was a really sexy bikini-like top that Andy gave me that used to belong to a friend of Michelle’s. Her friend was an exotic dancer too, and it’s a gold satin top, with black ribbon straps and black fringes hanging down to the hips. Well, I couldn’t even clasp that top around my tits when I was given this thing. I was a good inch or two away from the clasps reaching. Now - perfect fit!

Picked up five suspense movies at the video store yesterday, and Tom got a computer game in the mail that he was all psyched up about. I’ve seen three of the movies and they were great. I was afraid it’d turn out that I’d seen them before but had just forgotten, or that I wouldn’t be able to get into them.

Tom’s at our daughter’s house trying to finish up the six or so remaining hours of Mrs. Live-My-Life-For-Me’s work. I hope his back holds out during this slavery, which he hurt at work last night. Now all I have to do is hope that Mrs. Do-Everything-For-Me won’t end up worsening it.

Later…

I’m OK with never seeing Tammy again and I probably never will, but I sure miss Lisa. I really believe, though, that she’ll fly out here someday within the next few years. If not to live, then to visit.

She and Sarah are just kind of there in the looks department, but God I hope poor Becky’s looks improve for her sake. She is not only geeky and overweight, but her face reminds me of a little chipmunk. Tammy’s feelings would probably be hurt if I told her that of all three girls, I really see her in Becky. It’s so true, though. She also looks a lot like Bill’s niece Lisa who’d be in her late teens by now. She too, was a homely, heavy girl. I shouldn’t talk, though. I’m not only aging in looks, but I’m also looking like a total geek these days. I always had a geeky look to my face. Not my eyes, but in the mouth and chin area, I look really goofy. And although I’m thinner than I was last January, and although most women would probably swap bodies with me, I’m still fat.

That address label company sent me a few labels. God, I cannot believe people’s persistence! People just do not give up. They are so obsessed. There were 5 sales calls today and I’m sure there’ll be a few more. They’re right back to their old shit as far as the constant calls go. I don’t know anymore if Jenny C is tied in with some of these calls or not, but people sure are pushy.

Speaking of which, I just got an “unavailable” call and the guy asked for David S. Yeah, we still even get mail for him at times. Anyway, I told the guy to fuck off and he said, “Yes ma’am.” Well, we’ll see if this makes him all the more determined to call or not.

Anyway, the labels are seasonal and pretty boring for the most part.

Tom didn’t go to our daughter’s house today because his back hurt too much. He said he should be able to get around to it tomorrow. If he goes there and ends up getting more hurt, I’ll personally kill this woman myself! God, I wish this family didn’t live locally! I love Arizona and want to stay here, but sometimes I think California or Nevada would be nice. Then all these users wouldn’t bother him so much. Hell, I can’t believe Wendy doesn’t call anymore. Haven’t heard from her in months.

Tom’s dad was really big on people not taking advantage of others. He turned his brother away who was a homeless drunk and came to the house one day years ago. Tom said he never saw him that mad. Well, I always believed that if someone was a negative influence in your life, you should get rid of them whether they’re related or not. People need to have self-respect and look out for themselves.

Tom taught me the class he’s gonna be teaching to about 10 people tonight, so he could practice how he’d go about it. It’s that thing they taught him in Vegas about handling change and how the “ending phase” brings on feelings of denial, anger, shock, fear, and frustration. (I’d add depression) And the “neutral zone” brings on feelings of anxiety, chaos, confusion, uncertainty, and miscommunication. The “new beginning” brings on feelings of enthusiasm, anxiety, energy, hope, impatience, creativity, acceptance, and skepticism. Not all people get all these emotions, but some do, and it deals with how to deal with them best.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 1998 The freeloader just got her yard done for free for being the city bum that she is.

Speaking of the little freeloader, I cannot believe the company-freak this lisp bitch is! Fortunately for everyone around here, there was no music. A bald black boy of about 6 years of age began to play basketball, but to my astonishment, it was only for a minute. Also to my astonishment, 3 cars came, and I never even heard doors. You’d think they’d give me a major slamming spree, but nope.

At 11:30, the white car, which seems to be the car that comes the most on weekends, came and took the bitch somewhere. I think this is her sister who drives this white car.

At 2:00 things got really weird. I couldn’t tell for sure, but the two cars in the carport were the white one, and the cock’s car. Out in the driveway, was a red one. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear the cock was living there. He probably did drag over his friends, though.

By 4:00 all cars were gone. Then an hour later, I saw the bitch standing by the red car, which took off shortly after. I also saw someone walking into the house that appeared to be a fat, Spanish woman in her late teens or early 20s. Her hair was wavy, and it was just past the shoulders.

Bill is over there mistake-sitting and given how the weather was this morning, I’d say it’ll be any time now that they’ll pop their windows and doors open and hit the outdoors. It was actually pleasant out, slightly cool. Summer’s just about gone, but the bees aren’t. The bees are still alive and kicking big time, whereas they were gone by mid-August last year.

In good news - I finished the proofreading! Finally, huh? Anyway, I may do some other long-term, fun project, but we’ll see.

Later…

I’m not the least bit surprised to say this, but the mineral pill seemed to stop taking effect yesterday. Yesterday, and today so far, I’ve got my mind on food an awful lot. I’m not back in the 120s like I thought I’d be by now, but I’m definitely still in the 115-120-pound range.

The goddamn phone’s gonna start ringing off the hook any second now. Last Friday by 2:00, there’d already been 20 calls. Lisa, Andy, sales, etc.

I just called and made the appointment with the GYN that Tom and I picked out. The soonest I could get was November 9th, but that’s fine. She’s an OB/GYN and she does infertility.

Now, I know that if I were smart, I wouldn’t even bother. Chances are great that I’m just not gonna get any answers. I don’t know why. It’s just a feeling I get. Also, Tom boldly lied through his teeth last night. I made a comment saying, “You cum more often than not,” to see if he’d go along with it and he did as he said, “Yup,” which is fucking bullshit! Total fucking bullshit!!

After I asked myself if there was any way he could be cumming without my knowing it and acknowledged that the answer was no, I then asked myself why he’d be lying about this. Why is he so afraid to let the truth be known to me? Is he afraid of how I’d react? He obviously isn’t worried about his testing interfering with things or giving him away. Somehow, he knows he can “beat” this testing thing. He seems to be confident about it, anyway. If we do go through with testing, and if he does let them have a sample of his cum, then I was right all along about his “selective cumming.”

Well, as I said months ago, I’m determined to never let the issues of sex or a child hurt, anger, or frustrate me again in any way. I refuse to let these things be a part of my life, and maybe that’s why I’m not hurt that he lied to me, although I suppose I should be. Any other woman probably would be, but because I no longer want a child, and because I got so sick of the whole damn screwy sex thing a long time ago, it doesn’t faze me. Not even I choose to cum anymore when we screw. Although, for different reasons, of course. I’m just not turned on enough, although I would cum regularly if he always went down on me instead of always screwed me. I’d just rather get off myself, but even that’s not so easy anymore.

This is the second out of three vibrators to break on me. So, unless it’s something up there trying to tell me this is a forbidden pleasure, vibrators suck. They’re made so shitty, so I’m just gonna use the last one I’ve got till it breaks, then no more vibrators.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 1998 As far as I know, our little lisp bitch next door’s been behaving. I was only up till 4 PM yesterday, but in all that time, I didn’t see or hear any cars.

Maybe I’ve already mentioned this, but what I don’t get about this bitch and cock is this: If he’s got enough money to have such nice cars, and if he can keep a job steadily, why not marry the bitch and support the bitch and mistake himself? Can’t he take care of them? Why leave them stuck on welfare with all the rules and restrictions that go with it? Maybe the bitch just likes the idea of having something handed to her for free, even if it isn’t much. They’ve all gotta try to get something for nothing.

You know, it still really pisses me the fuck off the more I think of his mom and others on his side of the family. It really burns me up to know we’re out $4,000 and two years because of this selfish woman. Doesn’t she, Mary, Dave, or anyone else have a clue as to how much time and money we’ve lost because of her, Mary, and others? When Tom, who knows money well, told me just how much money we’ve been suckered out of, I was so pissed, and I still am, that I don’t know if I want to even see these people again. It’d just be way too hard to look them in the face and smile and be all nice to them.

I saw on the Caller ID box that Mary called last night after I crashed. Now, I know she didn’t call just to say hi. I’ll ask Tom when he gets up what she wanted from him this time. I just hope he sticks to his word of putting his foot down. I would’ve stopped at the first $100 and the first 10-20 hours of work I put in for Mrs. Do My Work For Me, and when I asked Tom why it took two years and $4,000, he said it was because he felt bad for her. Also, he felt like he owed his dad, who never took advantage of his time or money, but now he’s realized he’s paid his debt many times over. To me, we as children or grownups, don’t owe our parents anything. When they decided to have us, they should’ve known what they were getting into, and they’re not our responsibility. Marge just has no concept of money, according to Tom. Tom’s dad would take him with him to buy parts for jobs he needed and would pay him more than what the parts cost. And he never demanded so many hours, days, months, and even years of work from Tom, and he never played favorites. This woman, though, thinks all jobs should pay $20. He goes out and buys $100 worth of parts, then 5 hours, or days later, depending on how long the job took, she gives him $20, then says she’ll “catch him later.” In other words, what she’s really saying is, “I got what I wanted from you, now fuck off.”

Now, his dad may have given us $10,000 towards buying this house in ‘93, and mom may have bought us a $3,000 AC/heat pump, and given us other things, and we may be doing well financially these days, but with all the money spent on her, we could’ve bought this shit ourselves many times over.

People with younger kids have no respect for others. They think they’re special and that they should come first, and they think they’re owed top this, top that. I’ll bet you anything that Pam raided that house right along with Jackie, Jim, David and Evie.

I wish Marge would just hurry up and drop dead, and I don’t give a shit how mean, selfish, cruel, ungrateful or spoiled that sounds. We’ve lived her life for her long enough. My whole life has been total overkill on taking care of others first and myself last. Or just not being able to live my life for myself and do the things I want to do for whatever reason. Either fate wouldn’t allow it, there wasn’t enough money, etc. I’m not saying no one ever did anything for me or spent money on me. Look at all the help I got from Tammy, Dureen and Art in getting me the hell out of New England. Look at all Tom’s done for me. Nonetheless, my whole life’s been what I was forced to be like, to say, to do, but no more! No fucking more! I have too much self-respect these days to be taken financially or to associate with people like Dureen and Art who don’t love/accept me as I am and who are control freaks. Everything has always been what I can do for others. Not what I can do for myself, but for others. Well, I’m taking my life back now that should’ve been mine the day God gave it to me. As soon as she does die, though, Mary, Evelyn, and others are gonna be bombarding Tom with do-this-and-do-that-for-me requests because they’ll think that when Mom dies, he still won’t want his own life and his own money. Well, they’re wrong!

Deep down, though, I will always appreciate the fact that there was never any violence, verbal, emotional, or sexual abuse in this family as there was in mine. (there was no sexual abuse in mine, though, that I know of) Tom said Ma’s long-dead stepfather was a violent drunk, though. My family consists of abusers, his consists of users.

Of course, I want to do things to please Tom, because he’s the love of my life. Of course, I’ll talk to Lisa. Of course, I’ll tell Andy something in Spanish for him if I can. I’m just saying that Tom and I need to live our lives too, and do stuff for our house, and use our money for us.

In better news, I never knew it when he came into bed last night, so that’s great.

We got our yearly check from SRP for a few hundred dollars, so now we can hunt for the best airfare deals and head on over to Vegas! See, there are two electric companies. APS and SRP. We have APS which is more expensive, so SRP pays us the money we would’ve saved if we’d had them. The people can’t choose who they use, though. It all depends on where you live.

We also picked out a lady OB/GYN (Dr. Wells) for me to call this week for a check-up and to start the testing. I can’t believe I’m finally doing this. Or at least, it looks like I’m gonna be doing this.

I asked Tom if he felt that doing what Andy’s sister Linda did is a form of a black market paying for a person and all that. He said he doesn’t feel paying for fertility stuff/babies in that way is like the black market.

Later…

Tom got up a while ago but has gone back to bed to at least rest. He has to go to work tonight at 7:30.

Mary called to say what she did at Marge’s house. She and Dave went over to play around with the stuff, more so than to help do their fair share of work. Tom has the dumpster till Friday, so at least he’s not too pressured to finish the job, but you’re talking another 5-6 hours’ worth of work he has to do for her.

Thank God there is a Mary and Dave and other relatives because then we’d be stuck with her living here and with 100% of the work, instead of 90% of it. I probably would’ve insisted she go to a nursing home.

Tom was telling me about a disturbing movie he saw that he hopes I don’t see. I won’t want to see it now since he already told me about it. Besides, I pretty much only watch the movies we’ve been renting. I do like commercial-free movies better than TV shows (series) but I hate today’s acting style almost as much as yesterday’s. Yesterday’s was overkill on the dramatics, but at least you could hear what they were saying. Today, there are fewer dramatics, but you can’t hear a damn thing they say, because they talk so fucking soft. And there’s just too much repetition. Like I said, it’s wrong for Dureen and Art to have tried to control/change me like they did, but I can understand how easy it is to get sick of hearing the same things, or things that are of no interest to me.

Being a drama schoolteacher must be easy. I mean, all you gotta do is tell students, “Talk really soft and show no emotion.”

I’m really excited about taking up a new hobby - doll collecting. I’m done collecting mugs, stickers, rodent cage parts, journals and CDs. I wish it weren’t so costly, but I just can’t get over how cute/lifelike some of the dolls in this catalog are! Tom and I are gonna look around the city to see if we can find dolls that are just as nice and compare prices, but I’ll keep this catalog just in case. Hope I win big in Vegas!

I’ll describe the four dolls I’d like to start with getting over the next several months.

The Rapunzel doll, which looks like a small child, is 19” tall with long blond hair, brown eyes, and a dark green dress. If I could change anything about her, I’d make her hair dark and I’d change her dress color to pink.

Katherine Rose, who also looks like a small child, is 14” tall like the Jessica doll I’ve got, with hazel eyes, auburn hair that’s up in a bun with curls hanging down on the sides, and a burgundy-colored dress.

Patrice, who looks like she’s a teenager, is 14” tall and a beautiful ballerina. She stands on one toe, with the other straight up behind her. She’s got dark curly hair piled up with loose curls spilling around her face, dark eyes, and a beautiful, sleeveless, light blue tutu.

Summer Dream is the most realistic and womanly doll of them all, although Patrice is pretty realistic-looking, too. Summer Dream is 19½” tall, and a gorgeous bride with blue eyes and blond hair piled up. I love how her backless gown falls off the shoulders.

I guess I never did describe Jessica, the one I stole in the mail. Well, she’s 14” tall with long blond hair, blue eyes, and is a young child wearing a light blue cotton dress with a matching bonnet and holding a teddy bear.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 1998 I have a shitload of shit to update on. First of all, I wouldn’t be surprised if Andy was a pest this weekend. Or at least till we get to talk live next. Red Lobster called me yesterday asking if “Mark” was gonna come in and I let him know that he didn’t live there and that I was just listed as a reference. I gave him his number. Andy left a message later saying he didn’t know why I was called. Guess the kid couldn’t read his file correctly, but Andy’s kind of on-call and doesn’t know from one day to the next whether or not he’s doing lunch or dinner. He hates Red Lobster because he’s making shitty money there. Too bad, because I know he’s wanted to work there for quite a while. Anyway, in his reply message to me, he also said he had some exciting news for me that he wants to tell me live, and I’m thinking - Great. I can’t wait. I’m sure the exciting news is nothing more than a guy he met who he thinks is Mr. Right and that he’ll live happily ever after with, something about Stevie Nicks, or some hot new career he thinks he’s getting into. Nonetheless, I’ll listen to whatever he has to tell me. I’m not a Dureen. It’s not like I don’t care or love and accept him as he is, and it’s OK for him to talk about stuff that doesn’t interest me.

Got up a couple of hours ago and left Andy an update on what’s been going on, which I’ll update here in a sec, but I don’t always expect him to remember or even get what the hell I’m saying.

Haven’t heard from Andy or Michelle about those messages I left. Yeah, I finally got around to leaving some messages with the different voices reading goofy text.

Lisa called me yesterday to fill me in on things. I know that she’ll be calling while she’s suspended. Bill didn’t hit her. That was a relief to know, but she’s still upset with how Tammy appears to be contradicting and she doesn’t like how she’s always talked about. I told Lisa that the sooner she learns that most people are contradicting and that people will always gossip about her whether it’s in a good or a bad way, the easier her life will be (as if Andy hasn’t spent hours and hours talking about me to Michelle).

She said she called Larry’s for the first time in a while and that now she sees what I mean. She said she called wanting to talk to Jen, but Larry answered. She said he sounded very cold. Yeah, I knew it. As I told her, sooner or later, he’s gonna reach his fill and basically wash his hands clean of her. He’s a wimp. Can’t deal with other people’s problems. He didn’t just dump me years ago because of things I said and did to him, Sandy or Michelle, but because I had so many problems back then.

Anyway, instead of thinking - I told her not to call - now she can hopefully learn her lesson from this. She got to see what I was talking about, so hopefully she, Tammy, and her sisters won’t ever contact Mom, Dad, or Larry. They’ll only hurt them. Maybe not right away, but they will. For every good, fun time you can have with these people, that’s 50 frustrating, bad times you get too. They’re not worth it. The bad in them outweighs the good by way too much.

Still haven’t weighed myself in days, and now that my water’s gone and my period has passed, I don’t think I am back in the 120s after all. That trace mineral pill still seems to be making a world of difference, but it’s still too soon to say that it’s because of that. I do have a few days here and there where I’m not hungry every other second, but we’ll see. If I still feel more energized and less hungry a week from now, then yes, I’d say the mineral pill is helping.

If they didn’t make Benadryl, I’d never have gotten to my boring, uncomfortable appointment yesterday. I was in such a foul mood yesterday and I’m sure they all could tell. First, Melanie did her thing which wasn’t too bad. The pressure was only for half a minute, rather than for two or three, but the time I had to spend waiting in between Melanie and the filling, bored me to utter frustration. As well as bitterness towards God. If he’d just let me come into this world normal, I wouldn’t have to go through this shit. Wasn’t just the ear thing alone enough? Obviously not. But at least I get such a great-looking orthodontist out of it.

Novocain is a slow-acting drug. It takes a good 20 minutes or so for it to set in and really numb things up. And it also makes your heart race. It would’ve been fine if Melanie stayed in the room and chatted with me, but I was left all alone in there. I don’t know if it’s because she didn’t want to be around me, or because she had other things to do, but after what seemed like an eternity, the doctor and Oprah came in and filled me.

The doctor may not be such a liar after all. I told him I was surprised I had a cavity since I’d been brushing really well and he said it’s not so much that I have a cavity, it’s that the old filling broke up and left an area of decay exposed that had to be refilled.

Anyway, the soreness caused by Melanie and the doctor combined brought me to tears of frustration when I got home, and I’ve been taking a lot of Ibuprofen. I may have a lot of curses, but boy am I blessed to have such a wonderful, supportive guy like Tom.

Now that my appointment’s over, Tom and I can go back to being “normal” and sleep together.

Later…

What? Are we not working this morning, bitch, or are you back to leaving at 7:30, instead of earlier? Well, I don’t think she’s working. I think it’s some type of training thing. I’ll hear when Bill gets here.

Tom says he doubts the bitch’s cock will move back in again, but I disagree. I hope he’s right, but if I’m right, I’ll just have the cock kicked out again. It’ll only take up to two weeks to boot his ass out of here, and while I’m still here, if you can’t cut it in this neighborhood - you’re out of here! Particularly when it comes to next door.

Those Lopezs are very very lucky that I didn’t know that I’d be here this long back in ‘93 and that I know I won’t be here more than another year. Those dogs have been horrendous lately, and if I’d known I’d be here this long, or if I suddenly wanted to stay here, I’d either take legal action or have those dogs taken away or destroyed. It’d probably be one of the last two since legal action probably wouldn’t do me any good. The courts would tell them to keep their dogs quiet, the Lopezs would say “sure,” then carry on as usual. The only way they could shut those dogs up, anyway, would be to either keep them indoors or debark them.

Here’s Bill.

Later…

Lisa called and we spoke for about an hour. She’s bothered by the fact that people think she’s cutting herself to get attention. I know better, though. Take it from someone who was just like her - it has nothing to do with attention-getting. It’s an illness, and until she learns to channel her anger/depression/frustration differently, this is how it is.

I told her, using the cutting, the weight loss, the ear surgery, the teeth, etc., that it just takes time to solve most problems. They can take years to solve, but if not, they don’t usually get fixed overnight.

I told her that after dealing with two of the three things that I was born without/screwed up, it’s still hard, and it’s taken a long time (she knows about the ear and teeth, but didn’t know about the DES, which I explained to her).

She said she thinks of having a kid, but not at her age, naturally. More like when she’s 27. I told her that in my opinion, not getting married or having kids before age 25 is good. I think that between 25-45 is good. Of course, at her age, she sees 30 and 40-year-olds as antiques. I told her that once she got into her 20s, her 30s and 40s wouldn’t seem so old. Guess it just depends on where you are in life. At 80 years old, wouldn’t the 60-year-olds seem young?

She told me that this 16-year-old from school had a miscarriage, and the next night, she and her boyfriend were out partying. She also feels, though, that it was the best thing since she was so young and since this girl’s parents shouldn’t have been parents themselves from what she told me. I didn’t know God had it in him to kill a child that was inside of another child, but of course, he shouldn’t have stuck it in there in the first place.

She also says she found an old video of me. The one I sent in ‘94 with Tom and I at Castles & Coasters, and with Piggles swimming.

Lastly, she was describing the nuisances of having ADD where you can’t focus too easily on things. I swear that girl and I have everything in common except for two things. I never had the desire to become a meteorologist (not that she’s necessarily gonna end up doing this for sure) and I see nothing to indicate that Lisa’s gay or even bi in any way.

Never have I heard Tom utter one bad word about his father, and never have I heard him utter one bad word about his mother. Until yesterday. He’s fed up with what I got fed up with in ‘95 or ‘96. The constant demands. Do this for her. Do that for her.

See, as much as Tom disagrees with this too, back when his parents got married, it was common for the man to be the boss in every sense of the word. His parents were always the opposite of my parents. With my parents, Doe’s the boss. With his parents, whatever his dad said was what his ma did. So, now he’s not sure if the fact that his mother’s been taking advantage of him has to do with her illness or her own nature. Was she always this way? Is this the true Marjorie S that only emerged after Dad’s death? Although, I think it all started as soon as Dad got sick.

I’m glad that Tom told both his mother and Mary how he feels, and this is what he told me: He’s mainly bummed out by all the time and money he’s put into her, while she just gives hundreds of dollars worth of things to Jackie and Jim, David and Evie, etc. All they have to do is ask and they get. Tom spends 5 hours doing a job for her that costs him $30 worth of parts and what does she give him for it? A lousy $20. Meanwhile, that’s $10 and 5 hours he’s lost that we could’ve spent together, doing things for us for a change, in our house, and that’s money that could’ve been saved towards moving.

He totally regrets giving up his Nissan for her Ford, but Ma felt like she was doing him this huge favor and was all bummed out at the idea of him not taking the fucking thing. He’s spent so much money and so many fucking hours fixing this car. It’s getting better and it’ll be a sufficient enough car to have till we get a new one, but at least with the Nissan, it never wouldn’t go at all. He could put quick fixes on it till he had time to work on it. Not with this Ford, though. He has to work on major, money-eating problems right then and there or be without a car.

As I told him, I always did feel that he was the one who had to do the bulk of her work. He has to be Mary’s fucking mechanic, he has to put in a shower door at her house because Dave’s too stupid to, and on and on and on. He’s his mother’s driver, his mother’s this, his mother’s that, but everyone else gets to get things for nothing. They don’t lose any time or money.

I really think it’s because we don’t have kids. His mother obviously thinks that just because he has a life, he doesn’t mind giving it up for her. Well, she’s wrong, and I’m sick of the demands from that family and I’m sick of the favoritism. They’ve lessened lately, but still. Poor Tom has to spend hours at her old house, after working all night, emptying the stuff into a dumpster, while everyone else gets to sit on their fucking asses and get shit handed to them. I hope he’ll enjoy the memories that the stuff brings, though, because he was very close to his dad.

Years ago I wanted to tell Ma, “Hey! You’re running him ragged and I’m afraid you’re gonna kill the guy! He needs to get his sleep and he needs to live his life, too.”

But of course I never did/would because it’s not my place to. Not unless something serious did happen to Tom. Tom’s not blind, though. Unlike some people, he’s able to see what this has done to him/us, and he knows when to draw his own lines.

So, Tom’s basically had to decide whether or not to wash his hands clean of the situation, which he knows would mean sticking more on Mary, but tough. There comes a time when you have to think of yourself and your own life, too, you know. He’s not gonna dump his family in the way that I dumped mine, but he’s not gonna spend all this time and money on living her life for her.

I still love his mother dearly as well as the rest of the family, but if I were in their company right now, I don’t think I’d be my usual bubbly self. I think I’d be distant with a neutral tone of voice and they may perceive that to be cold, but like Tom said, you can’t control/change what others think.

I’m proud of him for speaking his mind and for making the decision he’s made.

I don’t know if she’s gonna sell the house or give it to Jackie and Jim, who are under the very false impression that they can rent that house out and get money for doing nothing. Well, if they take that house, they’re gonna be in for a surprise when they start calling for Tom’s help with maintaining it because the answer’s no.

I asked Tom if he thought I was using him for rides to the doctor and he said no because that’s part of our system, just like he’s not using me to do his laundry. True. Very true.

Both yesterday and the day before, I just missed the call back from Dr. Brown’s office. Lisa, the secretary called and left a message. Again, was I meant to miss the call? I sure felt like I was.

So yesterday, Tom offered to sit down with me this weekend and pick out one of Intergroup’s GYNs and just go directly to them so I wouldn’t have to go for repeat PAPs and all that BS.

Just a little while, though, Lisa called. It came up as private (private in the back and anonymous in the living room) and I picked up thinking that although it was early, maybe it was Andy. It was Lisa, though, and I recognized the voice right away. She asked how I knew it was her and I told her I was very good with voices. Anyway, she told me the primary doctors allow you to go once to another doctor without a referral and to call her back if there are any problems.

So, I guess it’s off to whatever GYN we pick out.

Later…

Oh, brother! Here we go again. What’s Andy’s wonderful news? Well, in his message to me, he says he’s definitely moving back east in April. David’s gonna pay for it, he’ll be moving right in with David, and he just doesn’t want to be alone anymore. Yeah, right! I mean, I know he’s desperately lonely, but I also know I’ve heard this before from him about moving back east and I know he’s not gonna do it.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 1998 Unbelievably, I slept through a power failure. In the past, as soon as the power would fail, I’d wake up to the sound of the fan shutting down, the instant the power failed. I guess that since I’ve become much more relaxed since I don’t have the stress of next door’s old shit on me anymore, I can sleep better, but the power failure had to be only for a few seconds. If it were longer than just a few seconds, I’d wake up to the outside noise. Car doors, dogs, squeaky breaks, the mail going through the slot, anything.

I created new color themes, but I’ve got to fine-tune some of them.

Yesterday morning the freeloaders slammed doors for what seemed like forfuckingever. Looks like we’re back to the old routine - the cock’s taking the mistake for the day and the bitch is going off with Bill. Although, the cock was here longer than usual. At least for 15 minutes. Before, he’d just grab the mistake and split. Also, Bill’s car was here for quite a while, too, even after the cock left.

Later…

Tom brought home natural mineral pills called chromium picolinate. I’ve never heard of it before, but so far it’s a gift from God. I repeat, so far, since things have a way of seeming to do me good at first, then not so good after all.

As I may have mentioned, I’ve really had it with being hungry all the time. It was really taking its toll on me. Tom put the scale in the garage, which I don’t need anyway because I can tell when I lose or gain weight. I’m already gaining back the weight I’ve lost, but that’s OK. Nowadays I’m more into how I feel. Not how I look. I can be a fat person. No one’s gonna shoot me for it, and my husband will love me just the same. Anyway, the purpose of these mineral pills is to curb hunger pangs. It said that low blood sugar causes poor concentration, weakness, and food cravings. Well, I definitely was having poor concentration and food cravings. I took one yesterday with food, as they recommended. I got up at 1 AM and had a few crackers to hold me over. I had decided that I’d have a whole can of bean soup once I fully woke up. So once I did wake up, I reached for the can of soup, but then realized I wasn’t the least bit hungry. So I waited till just a little while ago, but by the time I ate half the soup, I felt stuffed! So, we’ll just have to see what happens.

I’m gonna try to keep up with the walking. It takes just over 5 minutes to play a tiles game while walking, so even if I play 5 games once an hour, it ought to do me good in keeping my stamina built up.

Later…

Just did a little singing for the second time since I’ve been up.

Ratsy really wanted out of his cage today and yesterday. He really likes coming out and being handled now a lot better than he did at first.

Blackie’s really getting healthier. When I’d pat his back, I could feel all the knobs of his spine, but now it’s covered. He’s filling out nicely.

I can’t cry over this one, but I haven’t seen White Paws in a couple of days. I wonder where the hell she could be. I never thought she’d disappear any more than I thought Mama Cat would, but we’ll see. I think she’ll show up soon enough.

Different family members are having their share of medical stuff to deal with. Mary and Evie are having gallbladder surgery, and Mary’s gonna have part of her thyroid removed. Mom’s still shaky and out of it, but there’s a new medication she’s gonna be trying that’ll hopefully help the tremors.

I don’t know if I ever mentioned Tom’s first wife Karen. They were married for two years when Tom was around 20. They were married in Bullhead City, AZ. Karen turned out to be a real nut and Tom said she wanted to divorce so she could be free to do more things alone. According to Tom, she didn’t want kids. If he did, though, then why’d he marry someone who didn’t?

Guess I’ll be chatting with Andy again sometime soon. We were talking about the scandal going down with the president the last time we spoke. I just don’t understand why the public is so shocked. They act as if they’ve never heard of such slutty behavior before. Hey, whores are a dime a dozen.

I typed up a few messages that I’ll leave, in different voices, on Michele’s machine after she leaves for work.

Later…

The blue car came and got the bitch just a few minutes ago. Bill’s car’s over there now, so I guess he’s gonna be here mistake-sitting all day.

As fate would have it, White Paws is alive and well and I just found her outside the door. This goes to prove Tom wrong, though, when he says she is too weak to hunt for herself. I hadn’t fed her in a few days, which was when I last saw her, yet she had to have eaten something since then, or else she’d be dead. She can fend for herself just fine.

God, that’s so fucking weird! It’s raining, thundering, and windy as all hell out there right now, yet the sun is shining brightly.

Later…

My period’s doing what it’s been doing for the last several months. About 4-5 days ago, I had a couple of days of spotting, but nothing since then. So, within the next few days, I’ll have a flow.

You know, I don’t really like the idea of Bill babysitting here. What’s to say that when the weather cools down that thing’s not gonna be out and about screaming its little black clown ass off? I’m sure I wouldn’t notice it for the most part, since I have the air cleaner on a lot or a fan to drown out the guard dogs, and it’s better than bass, but I still don’t like the idea of it. I’m gonna have enough screaming and ball games to listen to this winter as it is. Well, I’ll deal with next door as I see fit. Sometimes I think of propping the music room window open, both when I know they’re bopping around in their driveway, and in the middle of the night, and really letting them have it music-wise, but two things stop me from doing so. One is that I just can’t stoop myself as low as they are and provoke them for no reason like they’ve done to me. They haven’t caused any shit to deserve this in months, save for the usual door-slamming. The other reason is that I know it won’t bother them. In fact, they’d probably enjoy it.

Later…

I wish these next two days would come and go like yesterday! I’m dog-tired already, yet I have a long haul ahead of me. I want to stay up till at least 6:00.

Although the mineral pill is still keeping me from being ferociously hungry, and although I’m stuck, I am so bloated and so watery! Not even the water pill’s helping much, and I’ve got to be back to 124 pounds for sure or very close to it. I can tell you one thing for sure and that’s that I’ve got to be back in the 120s.

I’m waiting for the damn doctor’s office to call me back. Believe it or not, after a talk I had with Tom yesterday, I decided to finally go ahead and take the first steps towards getting tested, and whatever happens, happens. I'm waiting to hear if I should go directly to a GYN, or waste everyone’s time with repeated bloody PAPs at the regular office.

I still don’t want a child nor is it something I could ever handle, but I need to see instead of just suspect and believe how this whole thing will play out. Let’s see how accurate I am when I say they’ll either be able to find what’s wrong, but not be able to fix it, or they won’t be able to find what’s wrong. Let’s see how accurate I am about how uncooperative Tom will be, too. He swears he’ll support me and that he’ll “do his best.” He said to me, “Just because I may not be able to do what they suggest the instant they suggest it, doesn’t mean I’ve got some subconscious fear blocking me.” In other words, he’s already making excuses for what we both know he’s gonna do. If his not cumming isn’t in his psyche, then what else could it be? There’s no such physical problem as a guy who can get hard, but who can only cum once in a blue moon. As long as he can get hard, which is almost every time we screw, he can get off almost every time we screw, but if he doesn’t cooperate, I’m not gonna let that stop me from doing what I have to do. I want some answers if there are any for me at all and you know what else? I just may want to be fixed, if it were possible so I too, could have the choice that every woman should have. God certainly isn’t an equal-opportunity plumber, that’s for sure.

Later…

It’s almost hard to believe I’m still up. Between 10:00 and noon, I was dog-tired. Tom got in around noon, and we agreed I’d take a two-hour nap while he listened for the phone, but by then I couldn’t even nap. Well, I’d like to push it till 6:30 if I can. Then all I have to do is hope there are no storms.

I called at around 10 AM and asked the nurse to ask the doctor if she thought it best that I go directly to a GYN and explained why. I was told I’d be called back between 1:00 - 3:15. Gee, they’re really reliable, huh? Wonder if it’s a sign. Tom says if they don’t call, just make an appointment with a GYN, but I don’t know.

I walked 37 minutes today and it seemed to take no time at all. That’s because I broke it up and played 7 different tiles games once an hour. From now on, I’m going to try to walk/play at least 5 games a day, which will add up to about 30 minutes of walking. I’ll probably eat two TV dinners a day and snack on salad and popcorn in between.

Lisa called today. It was her that tried calling me a couple of days ago. She tried from school. She got suspended for being caught smoking. Back when I was in high school (the real one) they had a smoking area in an outside courtyard, but her high school doesn’t allow smoking anywhere.

Once again, I lectured her on the importance of doing well and following the rules so she can graduate and get out of there. But, as Tom says, teenagers don’t believe a thing grownups say. She’ll just have to live and learn.

She also cut herself after doing really well. I told her that we all have setbacks, but that each time she picked herself back up again, she’d stay up for longer.

Again, this cancer may not kill Bill (if it really ever existed), but he sure would literally die of relief if he knew just how lucky he is that I’m on the other side of the country. I haven’t wanted to kill anybody this bad in years! The sick fuck’s still badgering Lisa about her weight. I told her again to speak up and take a stand for herself. Let him know hey, you’re hurting me when you pick on me like that, and if you truly loved me, you’d see me for who I am and not what I look like. What? Does he think he’s Mr. Stud of the Year? Yeah, he probably does.

She says he scares her with his yelling at her but has kept his paws to himself lately. I told her not to worry about being yelled at, but that if he laid a hand on her, she should call the police.

She says he talks about me and it pisses her off. He’s been saying how weird and crazy I am, and like I told Lisa, it’s true to a degree and I’m proud of it.

You know, I just don’t get that sister of mine. According to Lisa, she’s on Lisa’s side one minute, Bill’s the next. Yeah, that’s my contradicting sister for you. But I mean, it’s like someone saying they hate chocolate, yet going out and buying a chocolate candy bar. How can any mother allow a guy like him to come within 50 yards of any of her kids? No court could stop me from putting my kids in danger like that if I had had kids. Even if Bill’s not hurting Lisa physically, he’s hurting her emotionally and he should be locked up, and if not, he should at the very least be forbidden to go near children. He should be doing jail time for all the times he’s hit and cut Lisa down, but if that can’t be, and it can’t be, then he should be ordered to stay away from her from here on out.

God, what are you doing up there? Where are you when people really need you? Some God you are. We can really count on you.

I asked Tom why he married Karen if he wanted kids and knew she didn’t. His answer was that it didn’t matter to him as much back then and that even though it matters more to him now, it’s not a life-or-death situation. He has preferences, but loves me and accepts me as I am. So, he’s saying that even though he wants a kid, he loves me enough to stay with me and not have one. Well, I know without a moment’s doubt that he’d have been a great father if we had had a kid, but I still believe that deep down, he doesn’t want a kid any more than I do, because just like me, he doesn’t want the hassles of it or his time sucked up by it. The only difference between us is that he could’ve handled it. I couldn’t have.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1998 The Benadryl ended up putting me out from 11 PM - 2 AM. Tom thinks I'll make it to my appointment Thursday, but I don't know. It's cutting it really close. Maybe the nap will help to push my schedule around, but we'll see.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 1998 Unfuckingbelievable! I’m getting hungry again. Already?! Could there be something else going on with me that mimics hunger pangs? Why is it that some days I just cannot fill up? It seems like half the days no amount of food could satisfy me, but why? Why? Why? Why? Why must I always be fated to swap one problem for another? Can I ever be allowed by God to solve a problem and not get a new one in return for it?

Later…

I am officially off my diet now. No more going hungry all the time and eating barely 1000-1200 calories a day. I need more like 2000-3000 a day. I’m older now, so my metabolism and dietary needs have changed. I’m going to eat when I’m hungry and go back to eating what I want when I want, and I’ll let my weight go where it wants to go naturally.

I had Tom put the scale in the garage so I wouldn’t weigh myself so often. He thinks I’ll be less hungry if I don’t weigh myself so much. He thinks weighing myself a lot triggers a psychological response that enhances my hunger. He’s gonna look into simple, non-dairy diet plans, and appetite suppressants, because if there’s something that’ll allow me to continue on with eating healthy, then OK, as long as I’m not hungry all the time. If there’s something that’ll work for me without side effects, fine. That way I can eat healthily and maybe as an added bonus, I can keep my weight where it is. Remember, if I go into the 120s again, it’ll be hard to rock.

Someone tried to call collect today. The only one I can think of is Paula since Lisa’s been calling directly lately on some plan they’ve got.

I called to wish Sarah a happy birthday in the morning before everyone left. Lisa and Tammy get up at 6:00 and Becky and Sarah get up at 7:00. Tammy’s the last one to leave at 8:00.

Tammy’s fine. She’s still with Mark and happy. She, like Andy, asked if I’d talked to Mom and Dad. I gave them both the same answer - I’ll never talk to them again. It’s over. Period. Tammy hasn’t talked to them, either. We’ve both endured many years of being hurt by these people, that’s for sure.

I’ve come to conclude that these people may have never really even loved me. Just take how they’ve dealt with my sterility, for example. That alone tells me something about these people. Back when they knew I wanted a kid and couldn’t have one, they were so insensitive about it. They didn’t give a shit. They felt not one stitch of empathy for what I was going through and they even told me that they didn’t want to hear about it. No one who truly loves you and accepts you as you are treats you that way, whether they’re relatives or not. If having a kid was something that they felt I should have, then that would’ve been different. Only if it’s something they can relate to, that interests them, too, and that has something to offer them.

There’s only one real mom that I’ll always refer to as “mom” and that’s Tom’s mom. She loves me and accepts me as I am and she wants to hear about my bad times, as well as my good. She wants to hear about things that she can’t relate to and that don’t benefit her in any way, as well as just the opposite.

And speaking of that mom, Tom had to break up his sleep to take her to an appointment today that took forever. Mary couldn’t take her because she had her own appointment to go to. Tom says ma’s not doing well at all.

Here goes another fucking allergy attack. At first I was like - it fucking figures that this has to happen right before an appointment so I can’t take Benadryl, but then I said - fuck that shit. I’m taking Benadryl. I’m not gonna suffer from intermittent sneezing fits till I crash. I’m sick of this shit, you know? And once they start, they don’t stop. I have sneezing fits every half hour or so till I fall asleep. So, now I can forget about enjoying a burger and some fries in an hour when Tom gets up.

Today I didn’t just hear next door’s door-slamming spree, I saw it. I heard a door slam, then went and peeked out and saw the trunk and back doors open. I couldn’t see the front doors, though, because they were too deep into the carport.

I’d say that Bill didn’t watch the mistake today at the house. I’d say that the mistake went elsewhere for the day and that Bill brought home both mistake and bitch.

I saw both the bitch and Bill unload the car, and man is that bitch ugly! Great body, ugly face. The bitch took from the backseat what appeared to be the mistake’s shit. Bags for toys and diapers, although I think 3 years old is a little old for diapers. Isn’t it? I don’t know shit about kids, so I couldn’t tell you for sure. Then she slammed the door as if she was pissed. She’s always pissed. Always moving about in a mad, aggressive way. Then Bill, who moves awfully slow and makes me wonder how the hell he can have quick enough reflexes for driving, popped into view. In slow motion, he took a big box out of the trunk, but I couldn’t see what it was. Then the bitch came out and took a few plastic bags out of the trunk that was probably groceries. Then Bill did this. Then he was gone. What? Do they unload groceries and boxes daily? Is that what all the door slamming’s about (besides to piss me off)?

Speaking of things that piss me off - it’s coming up on 10 PM, and the fucking dogs are going off. They’ve been really, really bad the last couple of days.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 1998 Tom and I just screwed, but he was too tired to get on top. That’s OK. That happens sometimes.

I shouldn’t have bragged about how Caddy Kid hasn’t been around, because he’s back, although I don’t know for sure that it’s him. All I know is that someone banged by at 4:30 AM yesterday morning and at 11 PM last night.

Tom and I played with Ratsy on the bed a little while ago. He really likes Tom. Man, does he stink like hell, too!

Later…

Gonna cool down into the upper 90s by next weekend. Getting pretty pleasant for some ball games, huh Joely? Think you can have your gal pals and their mistakes come over and play for me? You know I can’t legally complain about that. I should be able to, though. No one should be allowed to have basketball hoops in their driveways when you’ve got a house as close as 3’ away from you.

For a minute just now, I missed my cigarettes. I miss having the vice, the act of smoking. Now, all I do is drink coffee and pop Tic-Tacs in my mouth. Although Tic-Tacs are only 1½ calories and I have about 50 of them a day, I suppose I should stop the tics. I will when I get the braces off. I’ll have them once a week or so then, then just chew gum. It’s too much of a hassle to chew gum except after eating because I have my braces waxed. So, I only chew gum when I go to take out the wax to eat or brush my teeth.

Tom left for work a couple of hours ago and good fucking riddance! It’s not that I don’t still love him and want to be with him forever, but I just get so sick of him and he tends to bore me at times. It’s nothing new, though - you can’t always communicate with the guy, he takes things the wrong way, instead of speaking up, he makes excuses, the sex has come to be totally boring and cumless for me as well, and I’m sick of having to compete with and live with that fucking TV!

He says he wants to spend time with me, but then why does he sit down in front of the TV instead? He denies this, but he watches hour after hour of TV, then complains he’s tired. Tom’s not a lazy man. He’s on his feet at work and he does a lot of errands but maybe if he walked on the treadmill himself instead of spending so much time just sitting, he’d have more energy to do more things around here. I thought computers were supposed to be his favorite thing. If that’s so, then why is he at the TV 80% of the time he’s here?

I asked him about trimming the tree out front and the hedges that he said he’d do weeks ago and what was his excuse? That he didn’t want to use electrical stuff if it was gonna rain. It was nowhere near raining today. What he really wanted to do was spend it sitting in front of the TV, but he didn’t want to say so, so he used rain as a lame excuse. To me, this is the same as lying and I don’t like it. He uses having to clear out his ma’s house as an excuse for not stopping to get a carry box for White Paws so we can take her to a shelter. But he wasn’t even doing his ma’s house this weekend. And he sure had time to pick up the new phone and mattress pad. As I told him, why not just come out and admit that he doesn’t want to get rid of that cat? He wants that cat, and he’d never admit this part, but I think he enjoys forcing it on me, too. Well, if he can say one thing and do another, so can I. I said I’d feed her. No more. If he wants her fed, he can feed her himself. I don’t make him take care of Ratsy, he doesn’t like rats, so why should I take care of his cat for him? Let him deal with her because I have my own cat I love and take care of. That we love and take care of because it’s a cat that we both want.

We both admitted we misunderstood each other about when he was to pick up orange juice and that it was OK if I took the water pill an hour before I had some orange juice, but then of course he just had to leave the bathroom sink faucet dripping which he knows I don’t like just to spite me. It’s so childish, too, but these are things I no longer confront him with because I know he’ll just deny it. That’s Tom for you - you don’t want to do something or admit to something - deny it. Just deny it. Or make excuses. Want to know what he’d say if I told him, I made comments saying he’s been cumming all along just to see if he’d be honest enough to admit that wasn’t true, but he went right along with me and that’s lying. You know what this bold, but very bad liar would say as a lying excuse? He’d tell me something like, “But you never gave me the chance.” Yes, Tom S would have the bold nerve to use such a lying, obvious, bullshit, lame excuse like that.

They say that if you can lie about one thing, you can lie about other things. I’ve never felt that there was a chance Tom would ever cheat on me. Most guys who were too afraid to get off with their wives would, but he has close to no sex drive at all, so he’s not missing anything with me. It’d be much more convenient for him to just take care of himself if he got that built up. And remember, he says he has wet dreams. It takes an awful lot to build this guy up, he can take care of himself, but what if I’m wrong? What if he’s getting it on with some young, thin, attractive thing that’s on birth control? What about Wendy (since looks really don’t matter all that much to him compared to most of us)? He’s the sanest, smartest, safest man around, but if he can lie and make excuses for the things he has, why not more things? Why not bigger things?

Well, I still doubt Tom S would cheat on me. Whores are a dime a dozen, but Tom S is one in a million. If he did take up with someone else occasionally, it’d be OK, it’s his body, so if it made him happy, OK. If he was a major slut who was stepping out on me left and right, that’d be different, but he’d have to die and come back a whole different person before he’d be that type.

I meant it when I said I was sick of the TV, too. I wake up to the TV, I eat to the TV, etc. Everything I do, I do to the sound of the TV and it gets really fucking old.

Unbelievably, I only have three more journals left to proofread.

Later…

It is so very dark outside right now. The sky’s moonless and cloudless.

The bitch is in bed next door. Gotta get up early. Tom said it was quiet today and that Bill was over there. What? Does this spoiled bitch not only have her poor dad mistake-sitting, but mistake-sitting when she goes out with her stuck-up girlfriends, too?

There are so many things my mind has accepted that are in the past. I’ve gotten over them and basically just put them in the past where they belong and gotten on with life. But it really bothers me that I can’t do that with my anger. It’s like I accept the fact that certain family members have wronged me and are not good people, but I can’t always let go of the anger that goes with all this. I’m not hurt, I’m not sorry, I’m not even regretful, I’m just angry. Not so much with family, as with other people, though. Mostly past and present neighbors.

For the first time in my 32 years, I’ve dealt with my parents and brother the proper way and the way I should’ve years ago. I spoke out and up to these people, then I let them go. So my anger’s been fused for the most part with them. It’s the people I never dealt with correctly that are pissing me off.

Take that bitch next door for example. I never should’ve let her get one word out to me. She had nothing to say to me. Nothing that could benefit the situation. I should’ve grabbed that bitch, clamped a hand to her mouth, and given her three ultimatums. To either walk away peacefully and get rid of the dog and music. Or to walk away peacefully and not get rid of the dog and music and have me get her evicted, or at least rid of the dog and music. Or to say another word and get her ass kicked by me right then and there. She was the problem. She and her boy toy. I did nothing wrong. How dare she come to this door telling me to shut up when it’s she and her associates that have disrupted my life. I don’t know why I let her scream at me. Maybe I was subconsciously afraid that if I did beat her ass she’d have someone come and shoot me and poor Tom, too. Well, lucky for her if she never comes to this door again, because she wouldn’t get a word out of that fat black mouth of hers, and you know what? There’d be no words coming out of my mouth, either. I’d just do what I had to do.

I think back to people like Mary D and ask myself why I didn’t push to fight harder. Why didn’t I try harder to fight her better? Why didn’t I set Hank’s ass straight the moment he stepped out of line on me? Why didn’t I fix his poor drunk ass? He was getting up there in age. I could’ve set him easily straight. Now because I didn’t, I’m left with the anger of what I didn’t finish and of what I didn’t do that I should’ve done. Maybe some other 21-year-old girl, who’s the naïve little sucker I was, is having to listen to his mouth. Maybe this girl wouldn’t have to put up with him if I’d dealt with him, because maybe if I had taken care of him, he’d now be too afraid to step out of line again.

I can think of a lot of people that pushed me around and it really angers me, infuriates me, to know that I never even tried to set these people straight. Yes, some of them would’ve kicked my ass and hurt me for it, but in a sense, it would’ve been worth it, because I would’ve at least tried to get them off my ass in the first place. Not all of these people could’ve hurt me if I’d nailed their asses. Most of them would’ve been no match for me and most of them would not have friends that would’ve shot me for it, either.

Barbara, at the NHA, had a lot of sick friends. Her sick friends would probably have gang-beaten me if I had done anything to Barbara, but maybe they wouldn’t have. Maybe Barbara would’ve kicked my ass if I tried to lay a hand on her, maybe not. I never even tried. I could never have known for sure what would’ve happened because I never even tried. There are some things we know in advance, then there are some things that we just can’t know for sure, till we do it.

OK, it’s just past 10:30 here, so why are the dogs barking? One of them is. Yes, one’s worse than the other. Again, how can this bitch sleep through that?! That dog is right outside her bedroom window for God’s sake! If she stuck her arm out the window, she could practically reach out and touch the fucking dog. She can sleep through this shit, though.

Andy gave me Michelle’s number and said she likes Mary and all those computer voices, so I can feel free to leave her messages with those voices. She’ll be out during regular business hours. My schedule’s a little off for that right now, but as soon as I’m up when she’s at work, I’ll leave her a few messages.

Later…

Where oh where is this ferocious appetite coming from?! I’ve been up for just six hours and since then I’ve had a TV dinner and a can of bean soup, and I’m still starving. Fuck! Is there ever an end to all this fucking hunger? I swear, it’s either be fat and full, or thin and hungry. Although technically, I’m far from thin. Maybe I should’ve just stayed on the cigarettes and not changed my eating habits. Here I am eating healthier and less than I have in a long time, and I gave up my 220-calorie granola bars, but yet I’m a blimp. If I could get my hands on an appetite suppressant that works and that wouldn’t cause me to wake up just a few hours after falling asleep, then maybe I could discipline myself and stick to this diet better, but since I’ve got this constant hunger, I can’t. There’s no in-between here and there’s no being thin and not hungry all time. Not anymore there isn’t. I need to eat at least once an hour, and I need solid foods. Not foods that are like air like popcorn and salad which don’t do shit for me and which leave me starving. I’m seriously contemplating eating when I’m hungry and letting myself get as fat as I’m going to get.

Later…

Just had a hot dog and now I’m making another TV dinner. I’m up to 118 pounds, too, but you know what? I don’t give a shit. I just don’t give a shit anymore. All this slavery over just a few pounds lost? Fuck that shit!

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 1998 Shit! It’s the weekend. What else is new? At least I get more time with Tom. So, weekends are both good and bad.

Just caught Marla online and said hello. She said she’s tired, as usual, but will be in touch. The poor woman has no life between her boys and her job. Never even got the chance to tell me about jury duty.

I had Tom pick me up something new at the grocery store today. Feminine spray instead of powder. The spray is easier to use and it works really well so far at keeping me dry.

I wonder how Lisa’s doing. Hope we can chat soon. Also, hope Tammy’s not using her too much. As Lisa herself said, she doesn’t mind helping her mom out when she goes to work or to be with Mark by cleaning and babysitting, but sometimes her mom really uses her to be her housekeeper/babysitter. She used to do the same thing to me when we lived in Longmeadow. Especially with the housekeeping.

Later…

Tom picked up a few new things today. A skinny microphone on a stand that’s about 10” high in case we want to record whatever. A new mattress pad that may bunch up just as much as the other one does. And a new speakerphone with Caller ID built into it for the back room.

Soon I’m gonna get on with the last of my proofreading. I started up with that again last night and had Mary read to me.

I also condensed the backup floppy disks of my journals and a few other doc files. Instead of having, for example, a disk for all the Oswego Street journals, a disk for all the Woodside Terrace journals, a disk for all the Elm Street journals, and a disk for the Norwich journals, I put them all on one disk and now I have an “east” floppy. I pretty much cut my disks in half and have six disks now.

I think another thing I might do tonight is redo my color themes. I wasn’t happy with the way they came out the last time. Tom’s only making a screensaver and wallpaper changer. Not color theme changers, but that’s OK. I can set the themes myself and change them weekly.

Our lisping freeloader bitch that pronounces the word music as “muthic” has been a good girl today. Most of that was according to Tom since I didn’t get up till 4 PM.

I have mixed emotions about that security light being dead. Can’t believe she didn’t replace that bulb yet! It’s obnoxious as all hell when I’m trying to relax to music. I like to listen to music in the dark. It’s more relaxing that way. There’s nothing I can do about daylight, but I hated it when it’d be nice and peacefully dark at night, then that fucking thing would blare on every other 5 minutes. On the other hand, when someone would come or go at night, it’d let me see the car better since it’s activated by motion.

Been lucky in the shit department. I shit three days in a row. Lucky me.

It’s really beginning to make its transition from summer to fall here (of course our falls and springs don’t last long at all here). The pool is starting to cool down and the bees are starting to die off.

Later…

Maybe being bad once a week and having a cheeseburger and fries on Saturdays isn’t such a good idea. At the end of my day yesterday, right before I had the burger and fries, I was 115 pounds. I would’ve been 117 pounds if I hadn’t shit. Today, though, it’s not quite the end of my day, I’ve shit, and am 117 pounds. But I do deserve a break and a treat once a week, so I’ll probably keep treating myself once a week. I love how it kept me full for hours. When I’m dieting, though, right after I eat my salad, or my measly TV dinner, or toast, or popcorn, I’m still starving and if I’m satisfied, it’s only for an hour.

I had some spots earlier. What? Am I in for another early period? It isn’t due for another week.

I tested out the new phone and called Andy and oh my God! On and on and on he went. I couldn’t even get a word in edgewise, and when I could, he’d cut me off. Never was he like this back east. He was so quiet. I’d always feel like I was rambling on and on while he was quiet. He was quiet because he was uncomfortable with my rambling. Especially since my rambling back then was about what his rambling today is about. He had the same problems back then - he was broke, sexless, loveless, etc., but back then he didn’t really bitch about it and all hell would break loose if you did. Now, though, he’s more tolerant of listening to people’s troubles and he sure is a major talker. Still, I listen to Andy bitch, and as I told him, I’ll listen to him all he needs to bitch because I know what it’s like. At least he has someone to bitch to. Back when I always had something to bitch about, I didn’t have that. Not for the most part, anyway. No one wanted to hear it, or no one was there at all that I could turn to in the first place. I was on my own. All alone. My therapist was pretty much the only one who listened to me.

Anyway, I told him that now that we have Caller ID in the back room and the living room, he can just go ahead and call anytime, any day. This way, it won’t be such a hassle if I’m busy in the back room and don’t want to be bothered but can still see who it is. I also told him that the same rule would apply, though. Most of the time I’ll either be asleep or just not in the mood to talk. I’ll still chat live with him about once a week.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 1998 No blue car visiting the bitch last night.

I’m doing some laundry right now, then it’s off to shower, wash my hair, and shave.

Tom crashed a little while ago and plans to get up towards the middle of my day (I got up at 3 PM) so we can have our Friday fun.

Later…

Blue car’s visiting the bitch right now.

Boy, am I gonna have to make up for the peace I’ve had over the last several months. Not even Caddy Kid has been by in a while. I don’t have any bad vibes in particular for the winter, but I know how it works with me and with most people; we must be compensated and we must pay for life’s blessings. If there’s no trouble with music and I don’t have to have them evicted, then I expect there’ll at least be several ball games. The neighborhood kids, including the Lopez’s, will play ball regularly. I’m sure that on weekends, the bitch’s gal pals will bring their mistakes over to play for me, too. I’m sure these mistakes will want to play ball on their own, but I’m also sure that they’ll be coaxed into it, too.

Thank God this bitch can’t have a pool put in.

Speaking of our infamous bitch, it just left in the blue car, but I couldn’t see who the driver was because I didn’t want to be seen. The bitch looked right at me, too. And that’s not the first time, she seemed to be looking right at me, either. It’s more like the third or fourth. At first I said to myself, I don’t care if they see me. I have a right to look at my window at anything I want, but then I said, nah. The purpose of spying is to be undercover. Also, if they saw you, then did something to the house for it, you know you’ll go over there and beat them beyond recognition, and you don’t need to go to jail or put yourself or Tom through any stress. Remember, these people are crazy. And if I did anything to them, no matter how much they deserved it, these sick fucks could gun me down. There’d be no defending myself against bullets.

This bitch really gets around, huh? So what will its weekend company be this time around? The dark blue car? The light blue car? The white car? Oh, definitely the white car. It seems to be the most prominent visitor around lately. Will it be cool enough for the mistakes to play ball? I kind of think it could be 120º and they’d still play ball if they really wanted to.

Later…

Haven’t seen Mama Cat around in ages. I don’t miss her, either. Daddy Cat still comes around here and there. It’s getting hard to tell Blackie and daddy cat apart, but daddy cat has long fur.

Woke up at 113 pounds Wednesday, 114 pounds yesterday, and 113 pounds today. At the end of the day, I jump up as high as 117 pounds. I knew I would, though, because weighing under 115 pounds is still new and completely foreign to my body. Guess I was right when I foresaw 118 pounds becoming a thing of the past. Not that I may not get up to that a few more times before I sink even lower. And remember, Vegas is gonna set me back. If I go to Vegas at 115 pounds, I can count on coming back at 120-124 pounds. My measurements just don’t go with my weight. At 115 pounds, I have a 29” waist, yet when I was around this same weight in 1986 I had a 26” waist. You definitely don’t look the same at certain weights at different ages. If I ever got back down to 100 pounds again, I wouldn’t look like I did the last time I weighed 100 pounds. I’d be an inch or two bigger.

Later…

I was watching a case of incest on Trial Story on Court TV. There were two daughters and one stepson charging their father with raping them 20 years earlier. The father ended up convicted. It was a jury of six women, though. Had it been men, he’d have gotten off.

I could sort of relate to what the victims were saying, even though the abuse I went through was emotional and physical. You can’t ever have your childhood back and you can never forget. Two of these three victims still love their father, too. How do I feel about my folks? Nothing. Just dead nothing. No love, no like, no hate. Like these victims said - they’re a closed chapter in my life. They were people I once knew, I had many more bad times with them than good, and now they’re in my past and I’m getting on with life.

I feel bad for these people, though. Just like with me, their childhood has affected their adult life, and when it’s not, you’re so busy struggling and working hard to keep it from affecting your adult life.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 1998 I don't believe it. Bill actually got in his car, shut the door once, then left. No 15-minute door-slamming spree leading up to the big leave. Meanwhile, the cock's on the street. Just brought its bitch back, and if things go as they did the last couple of evenings, the dark blue car will be here to visit the bitch for a few hours.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 9, 1998 Last early evening, we noticed that dark blue car parked next door as we were on our way out to pick up some videos. On our way back we went by their place and they had their front door open. God, these freeloaders really don’t mind the heat, huh? Bet they never run the AC. Bet they have the cooler on even when it’s humid out. Anyway, I thought I could make out an adult male blackie and a male child blackie of about 8 years of age sitting on a couch that faces their front door. Our front door faces the street. Theirs faces away from our house. You can’t see it from the street. It’s sideways.

The blue car’s here again tonight.

The original freeloader cock’s gray car was parked on the street earlier. Guess instead of bringing the mistake to daycare, or taking care of it all day itself, the cock now brings its bitch back at the end of the day.

You know, I’m surprised this bitch doesn’t have her own car. I mean, why not? She’s broken just about every other rule there is when it comes to welfare/subsidized.

The door slamming earlier was just like old times. I don’t know what the fuck Bill’s doing and why he has to slam a door every 5 minutes for 15 minutes upon coming and going, but it’s pissing me off. It’s really pissing me off.

Later…

Boy, this is a long visit from the blue car. I can tell when a car comes/goes from the freeloaders when listening to music at night. The headlights shine in in a way that I know is next door and not a car going down the street.

It’s taking an effort to push myself to write. I have a slight cold. It’s about the mildest cold I’ve ever had, though, and most of the time I’m not even aware of it. Tom’s going through the same thing right now. No wonder I’ve been sluggish. I had to have two meals yesterday and today to help boost my energy. I feel it in my voice too, and my voice doesn’t seem to be able to go below a middle E. My music sounds funny, too.

Unbelievably, there were no unavailable calls yesterday. There was only one today, but they hung up as soon as I picked up.

Typed up letters to Tammy and the girls. Yeah, I send them letters every now and then, since they don’t seem to want to do letters electronically.

Got 5 videos yesterday. Didn’t see that gorgeous girl there this time. Three of the movies I liked, one I didn’t, and one I discovered I’ve seen already.

Now for my best news of all. I woke up at 113 pounds!!

Later…

The wind chimes are so pretty when it’s windy.

Shortly after 9:00, the blue car left.

When I was chasing White Paws to the side of the house, I noticed something. There was a block wall in a part of the garage that Tom took down. He put the blocks at the side of the house. I noticed that about 5 of them were broken. There were broken pieces of these blocks. I wonder - could it be the freeloader’s doing? Well, if it is, more power to them. What the fuck do we care about some lousy bricks? Ain’t no loss to us.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 1998 I’m kind of tired today. I don’t think I slept quite 8 hours, but I’ll live.

When I got up at 9 AM, I found Tom asleep on the couch. I sent him into bed and on his way there, he said he left me a message explaining why he slept on the couch. He said that after my having a stressful day yesterday not knowing what to expect from next door, and since he’s really tired and will probably snore like hell, he’d give us a break while we were doing so well and sleep on the couch. That’s fine, as long as he doesn’t decide for me too much. I can decide what’d be best for me just fine. I want him to worry about himself more often.

Bill’s next door babysitting the mistake.

I made the window that this word processor is in smaller, so I can see the wallpaper changing behind it. It’s pretty cool.

I guess Tom and I are gonna go to the video store later. I don’t know for sure.

Some skanky Mexicans are doing the freeloaders’ yard and the yard across the street.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking of this fertility testing thing and all that. No, I do not want a child by any means as I used to. And it’s not so much the curiosity that’s an issue for me, either. It’s the right to choose that’s the issue. It’s kind of like the way I see abortion. First and foremost, people should be responsible and use birth control if they don’t want a kid or aren’t suitable for handling one, but since they don’t, at least a woman has a right to choose. It’s her body, her life.

I should’ve been born with just as much right as any other woman, but no, I never was born with a full bag of rights now, was I? It should’ve been up to me to say yes to a child like I would’ve been foolish enough to when I first met Tom up till about a year ago. And now it should be my right to say, nah. I don’t want a child. I like life too much and it’s something I could never handle. So, what kind of birth control should I use? The rhythm method? The rhythm method with rubbers used during mid-cycle? Rubbers all the time? Pills? IUDs? An injection?

Yes, it’s nice having a built-in, hassle-free birth control system, but still, it’s taking away my right to choose. I’ve been telling myself I don’t deserve the right to choose, because if I did, God would’ve given it to me in the first place, but that’s not true! That’s just not true! Yes, he feels I shouldn’t have the right to choose because he obviously doesn’t trust what my decision would’ve been a year ago, and yes, he’s looking out for me, but I am no less deserving than any other woman out there. I did nothing wrong to deserve to not have a right to choose just like any other woman. I do deserve to exercise my full rights as a woman. As a human being. If I had kicked some woman in the stomach and sterilized her and taken away her right to choose, then yes, I should have mine taken away too. If I had killed a child, then you bet I should be stripped of my reproduction rights, and I’d totally deserve it.

I try to tell myself, God was just doing the right thing and looking out for you by taking away your right to choose, because you know you’d have let yourself conceive if you could’ve, and therefore, you’d have gotten yourself into something you don’t have the physical or mental strength to endure, and you’d have either ended up dead or in jail for killing the poor, innocent child.

It’s not that easy, though. It’s just not that easy. Whether or not I choose to get into something I can or can’t handle should be my choice. Not God’s. It’s my problem if I bite off more than I can chew. I’m sick and tired of having God, fate, or whatever the fuck you want to call it, decide almost everything for me. Don’t I have some say in my destiny? First I couldn’t be the singer I wanted to be, then I couldn’t have the woman I wanted, then I couldn’t be a mother. Can Jodi be anything Jodi says she wants to be? Don’t get me wrong, a lot of the unplanned surprises I’ve received in my life have been wonderful and I wouldn’t trade them in for the world, but when does Jodi get to pick her destiny? See, I’m OK with not being able to move right now as much as we’d both love to. That’s because I know the choice is ours. We can choose to move, we have chosen to move, and when we can, we will move. If God fixed it so we had no choice but to stay in this house forever, then I’d be pissed. That would be wrong of him.

I guess it’s just a matter of opinion and where we each stand as individuals on different people and different situations. It’s easy to sit and listen to an infertile woman, regardless of her marital status or her financial status, that’s stable and able to handle a child, bitch about how she never got the right to choose, and that if having a kid was a mistake, it would’ve and should’ve been hers to make. But it’s not so easy to sit and listen to a 14-year-old who just had a kid say, hey! I made a mistake, but it was mine to make. That’s just not acceptable. It doesn’t cut it.

It’s not so much that I fear something up there would get me for going against its decision that I be sterile by going to a fertility clinic. It’s Tom. He’s just gonna keep on going along with my statements as to how normal our sex is, and he’s gonna both consciously and subconsciously fuck things up for me if I were to literally get off my ass and go try to seek some answers/rights. Normal? Our sex isn’t normal. It’s improved and I like it just fine the way it is, but even so, it’s not normal. We’re still managing to screw twice a week with him going inside me with no resistance, which is all good and normal, but he hasn’t cum in ages and I doubt he ever will again. Now, he’s welcome to never cum again if that’d make him happy, but that’s still not normal.

Maybe his refusal to cum wouldn’t be an issue, but I don’t know for sure. If they just started by testing me and found that the problem truly was with me, then he wouldn’t need testing, not that he would’ve gladly handed over a squirt of his cum in the first place. If they wanted to test us both at once, then I’m the only one they could test, since he wouldn’t cooperate. I asked him a long time ago and he says he would cooperate, but I’ve heard him say one thing and then do another enough times to know better.

Something tells me to keep my mouth shut, though. I don’t know why. I just know that at least for now, I must never make it known to Tom that I know he really hasn’t cum. Again, I don’t know why. It’s just instinct. I’m also curious to see how far he’ll take this lying about the cumming, too. I suppose it should worry me and make me wonder what else he could lie about, but it doesn’t. In his mind, he doesn’t need to lie about anything else, although if Kim came to visit, he’d have that jealousy all over again, and would lie and try to convince me that we ruined his life, made him oh so miserable, and nearly killed him.

The good thing about all this is, is that it’s not gonna affect my life in any bad way, hold me back, or keep me bitter forever. I’m very happy with my life despite my lack of right to choose and all that. I love my life and look forward to spending the rest of it with my husband and moving. I’ll probably never be thin again and we’ll probably never have an above-average income, but as long as we’re healthy and happy, that’s what counts. I thank God, or whatever may have had a part in the fact that I’ve never been more content with my life than I am now. I don’t miss the fits of rage that used to eat at me, nor do I miss the crying spells I went through. I hope to hell I never return to wanting a kid. That was really depressing, wanting something natural like that that I could never have.

Anyway, if I were to look at the whole thing from a rational, logical, realistic, practical point of view, I should forget about seeing any doctor about my so-called right to choose. There is no right to choose for me. I know they’d either not be able to tell me what was wrong, or that they’d tell me I was unfixable. I know I cannot be fixed. The purpose of being predestined to sterility is so you can never be fixed. The choice was taken away from me before I was even born.

Woke up at the usual 115 pounds, although Saturday’s treat and yesterday’s 400-calorie slice of pound cake, did catch up to me. I weighed 118½ pounds, but then after a water pill, I was 117 pounds, then 115 pounds when I got up. I’m gonna gain soooooo much weight in Vegas!

I finally shot some pictures of Ratsy. I hope they come out good.

From what it looks like after I just did a check, Tom hasn’t cum since around April 1st. Damn! That’s a long time. But actually, he has cum. Just not by me. Well, he knows I’m serious about not wanting a kid (along with the fears he’s always had) and won’t take any chances no matter how sure he is that I’m sterile. What a man, though! How many women could get such a wonderful man like that? One who’s willing to make such a sacrifice for her, and who could still be happy? I know he’ll never stray. He’ll always love me and me only, and if sacrificing orgasms for me is what he feels he should do, he’ll do it. He’d jump off a bridge for me, he loves me that much. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him, either, if I could.

Later…

Just got done relieving myself with a nice stimulating, yet relaxing orgasm with my vibrator. Yeah, my appetite’s come back. Tom’s not the only one that’s not getting off when we screw. He just can’t be available to get me off the 2-3 times a day I need to get off, and he can’t get me off in the way that I can. I know it sounds mean, but right now, I feel as if I may never get off again with him. There’s just no thrill in it for me anymore, as much as I love him. I wonder if his not getting off goes beyond pregnancy fears. He’s said otherwise, but could he really be sick of me and not turned on by me anymore? I don’t look like I did when we first met, yet he swears to be just as attracted to me. Well, I guess it doesn’t matter because he said that sex is a mental thing for him and that he’s not turned on by what he sees with his eyes.

I dig what someone said in a movie I saw last night. They said, “Sometimes sex is better with people in your head, than with people in your bed.”

I think this is true!

I can’t believe this. How utterly great. It’s already just past 4:00 and no unavailable calls. Maybe letting them have it was the answer after all. At first, it made them all the more determined to get at me, not surprisingly, but maybe they got sick of being told off and maybe they’ll fuck off at least if only for a while.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 1998 Although my vibe isn’t that bad right now, it’s still a bit early. If the freeloaders are gonna party, it’s gonna be closer towards the middle or late afternoon.

Later…

So far so good. My guess is that no one’s home right now. If she’d been home all day, then there’d have been a million cars coming and going all day. Probably to deliver the bitch’s drugs to her. It’s still early, though, and plenty of partying time left. Last year, they didn’t start their antics till 6:30 and they didn’t quit till 9:30.

Later…

I don’t believe it. I just don’t believe it! Miss Bitch was a good girl. Not a peep from over there. I was right about her being out all day. Bill brought her in around 5:00, and it’s been quiet ever since. Is it compliments of the cock being out of the picture that called for their first quiet Labor Day here? Or the city letters? Something else? Personally, I think it’s because the cock’s not around. They know they can party and annoy me in ways I couldn’t complain about. I can’t complain about ballgames and door slams.

That I know of, there’s only been music 3 different times, each for no more than a few minutes, since May 30th, and no parties since Easter.

Tom says there’s a new dumpster out back in its usual spot. That’s nice. This usual spot is just over the wall beyond the pool. Before, when it was gone, you had to walk either two houses left or right to get to a dumpster.

I love the proposal Tom made to me earlier. I don’t know if he’s serious, but we just might set up a little surveillance camera and train it on the freeloader’s driveway. He has an old black and white camera and said he can drill a little hole in the outside storage room and put it there. That’d be cool, but like I said, who knows if he’ll really do it?

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 1998 Again we slept together. I think he might’ve woken me up once when I was just knocking off, but so far, it’s going great. What did wake me up was the thunder from the storm at 7:30 this morning. As Tom pointed out, it’s making its transition from monsoon storms to fall storms, which are slower-moving, and come at any time during the day/night. Why couldn’t it pour viciously from about 2 PM on Monday, till about 9 PM?! Not a chance. Not a chance.

Congrats to the bitch next door! It actually went somewhere else two days in a row. It amazingly didn’t get back till approx. 10 PM last night. Can it do it again today and tomorrow? No chance, unfortunately. Well bitch, how bad do you want to stay here?

Anyway, today’s one of those yucky, dreary, damp days where you just want to stay in bed, but it’ll dry up and the sun will be out come prime bitch time this early afternoon.

Got two questions and one favor asked by Andy this last week. I already told you that he wanted me to teach him to type, but he’s gonna use the college typewriter. A few days ago he asked me how to ask, “What is your address?” in Spanish, which I told him. This time, he wanted to know how to ask are you cut? and are you uncut? As I told him, I don’t know slang. Even if I knew the word for cut, which I didn’t off the top of my head, they still may not know what the hell he’s saying.

How can Michelle afford to be so big? This I don’t get. It takes a tremendous amount of food to blow a body up like that. On the other hand, it wouldn’t take much food for me to get big. Not that big, though. It wouldn’t even take the average daily food intake to put me between the mid-120s - 150s. And this girl is no 150-pounder. She’s more like 250 pounds. So, when she had to move out of Andy’s because she was all broke, how was she affording to feed herself so much? You have to eat huge quantities all day and night long to get that big.

Andy’s told me that Laura has her own little built-in birth control system too, and we were talking about how many people don’t feel it’ll happen to them. Yeah, I know there have been couples who tried for years to conceive and couldn’t, then one day they did, but that really does only happen to other couples in my case, and in some women’s cases, thank God.

Later…

As I knew it would, the weather’s drying up nicely and the sun’s poking through.

The first of many vehicles just made it in next door. All I heard was one car door, then I looked out and saw a white car pulling out. Is the bitch in this car? Or did the white car just come to see the bitch? If the bitch has gone out, when will it be back? How many more cars are gonna show up over there today?

Woke up at 115 pounds, but today I’m gonna take a day off from the slavery that goes into keeping my weight at 115-117 pounds to have some KFC.

Later…

Right after I said the sun was poking through, it clouded up again, rained a bit, and thundered loudly for a while again. Guess it’s been cloudy all day.

At noon Tom went to Jack-n-the-Box for us both. I decided that once a week I’d be bad, so I had a cheeseburger, a large order of fries, and a cappuccino milkshake. Here’s the shocking part - I only gained half a pound from it! A half a pound! I thought this treat would put me up to 120 pounds for sure, rather than the usual 117 pounds I seem to end up at lately.

Not too long after I ate, I crashed till 4:00. When I got up, two recliners were here. Mary and Dave brought over two recliners. One’s got a massager in it like the living room one does, the other doesn’t. The massage one’s in the bedroom, the other’s in the music room. I didn’t see Mary and Dave, though. They just dropped the chairs off out back.

Pleasantly enough, there’s been no shit from the freeloader. Tom said the bitch has got her recycle bin out in the middle of the carport. Neither of us has seen any more vehicles come or go since I said I saw that white car just before 11:00 this morning. Now hopefully she can stay out till tonight, then do it all again tomorrow, but fat chance.

Yes, very fat chance, because guess what? It’s back now. The same white car that I saw earlier is there, but I don’t have a party vibe for tonight. What do I vibe for tomorrow? It’s weird because I have both a negative vibe, but then I don’t. We’ll just have to wait and see what happens, but tonight should be clear. It’s cloudy and it’s thundering again. If they’re that determined to party, they will, and storms won’t stop them, but I think they prefer it to be hot and sunny. Anyway, I wouldn’t put it past that bitch to party tomorrow, because even though the cock’s not living there right now, she’s partied every Labor Day she’s been here, but like I said before, she didn’t have city complaints either. So, I guess if you really think about it, tomorrow could go either way.

Later…

The white car’s doing what all cars next door love to do - slamming its doors periodically but not going anywhere. When I peeked out, I saw the bitch, then I saw the animal running in circles around the driveway and screaming. That thing looks like such a freak. I mean a total clown! Its hair is done up in braids. Sort of like Bo Derek, only a pitiful version of that. I’d be so embarrassed if I were that kid.

Looks like the white car’s left now.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 1998 Well, our little freeloaders haven’t been downright naughty yet, but they’ve been annoying. And by the way, it’s our one-year anniversary since we had our little immature screaming match on my doorstep, too.

First of all, the bitch actually went somewhere else last night and today. Does she have to make such a door-slamming spectacle of it, though? Of course! The bitch got in last night at 11:30 and I saw two people head into the house for the night. Was this other person the teenage boy?

At around noon, the first of the door-slamming pals came. I guess something’s going on between her and her cronies somewhere. There were 2 or 3 cars here earlier. Can you believe that many cars came to pick up this bitch? An 8-10-year-old black boy started to play ball, but to my utter amazement, it only played for a sec. At first I thought, well, well, she does have to work Monday, so she’s having her party today. Then all the cars left.

At 1:15 I heard bass for about two minutes, and I swear! I’m gonna blast these mother-fuckers right back if this wasn’t just one of the occasional outbursts they’ve been having these days. It was a dark car that we’d never seen before. Tom thinks it was someone new in the group that came to see if she’d left yet. Well, this bitch better break the new kid on the block in on the rules around here real damn fast, or she’ll be sorry. Anyway, the dark car was only here for a couple of minutes. Tom says it’s no doubt someone new and she’s not there to know about the music. Well, this is only the third music outburst in months, I’ll admit, but it better be a very rare occurrence if they want to stay here.

It’s gonna be a door-slamming nightmare around here when they get back, and God only knows what music and ball games I’m in for. We’re talking 3-5 carloads of this bitch’s associates and their kids. If they’re coming and going like this on a Saturday, Monday’s gonna be hell. Let it be, though, because that’s all the more hell it’s gonna be for them. If they give me 10% hell, I’ll give them 100% hell back. Trust me.

The problem with these sick fucks is that they can slam doors, but not go anywhere. Can these people ever just get in a car and leave? Do they have to make such a door-slamming spectacle out of it first? Well, of course they do. Anything to be heard and noticed by me.

Later…

The 5 carloads of freeloaders haven’t returned yet. With my luck, they’ll come in while there’s still enough light out for ball games. I kind of feel them coming in at around 3:00 - 4:00.

Tom says it’s common out west for several relatives/friends to go to a house in several cars. He says out west, more people have cars because it’s spread out here. In the East, things are more centralized. I’d still like to know why it took 5 cars to come and get that bitch. Can’t just one car pull up, then can’t the bitch just open the door once, then get in, close the door, then leave?

Tom’s now at Ma’s house doing some tree trimming.

As a surprise (ma doesn’t know it yet) Johnny’s gonna be getting her one of those recliners that tilt to help people who can’t get up so easily. Guess we’re gonna be getting her old recliner. Another massage one like the one we have in the living room. I’ll throw it in the bedroom. God only knows there’s plenty of room in that big bedroom.

As for some better news, Tom came into bed after I was asleep and got up before I woke up and I never felt or heard a thing!

Later…

Wow! It’s 6:15 and the freeloaders aren’t back yet. Yeah well, stay out another hour or so, you stupid fucks, because then it’ll be rather difficult to see to shoot baskets in the dark.

Later…

Still not back yet. How shocking.

I went to bed at 115 pounds last night and woke up at 115 pounds, too. Now, I haven’t woken up at the same weight I went to bed at in ages. Yup. Something doesn’t want me under 115 pounds. Well, if this is it, and if I’m gonna bounce between 115-117 pounds for a while - fine. Although, Vegas is gonna put me back into the mid-120s. The question is, though, will it take me 8-9 months to get back to where I’m at now? What’s also helping to keep my weight between 115-117 pounds, of course, is the shitting only every other day. At least I’m regular, if not as frequently as I’d like.

Tom brought out the old, big washer and we washed the comforter. I’ll do it again around the New Year. Every 3 months I try to do it.

I’ve had fun testing out the new wallpaper changer program he wrote. So far, so good. I’ve got a mix of family pictures, journal covers, and pictures of Gloria and Norah.

Tom surprised me with yesterday’s sex. He did and he didn’t. I was surprised he let himself in there, but not surprised he didn’t cum. He seemed to be really close, though, then it seemed the room temperature went up 20º. He was sweating like hell. Unless he felt the need to act and act very well, I think he might’ve let go in cooler circumstances.

I’ve played Gloria’s new CD and have gotten to know more of it. Some songs kind of grow on me. Now there’s a total of 3 songs I like on Gloria’s new CD, but a total of 5 tracks I play. A couple of the songs have remixes of the same songs on other tracks. I like Don’t Release Me, and I Just Wanna Be Happy, but Feelin’ is my favorite. There’s a Spanish ballad I’d like to learn so I can sing it. Some of her songs aren’t great, but it’s how good they sound on my stereo! She uses state-of-the-art equipment, too, but my God! I could never imagine going back to my old stereo. I always used to say that as long as I could hear my music, and hear it loud, sound quality was not so important, but it is now.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 1998 The sun’s finally poking out. When I got up at 9:00, it was drizzling and very cloudy. The pool temp has really gone down. Hopefully, this notorious bee season is just about over. There are bees all year round here, but not like in the summer.

I think I may have found horoscopes to finish off journal 159 with that aren’t so work-related.

Woke up at 115 pounds, and shit twice. What? Am I gonna shit twice every other day, instead of once a day? Anyway, I’ll be between 115-118 pounds indefinitely.

Later…

Fuck! It’s gonna warm up and dry up over the holiday weekend. The weather will be perfect for a certain pack of assholes to make fools of themselves. It doesn’t matter, though. Even if it were pouring out, they’d still do their shit on Monday. Storms wouldn’t even stop them.

Later…

I just realized something. This is a serious long shot, but whatever it is that that bitch is doing during the weekdays, is something it wasn’t doing a year ago. So maybe, just maybe, she’s one of the ones that have to work on Labor Day. I highly doubt it, though, and even if she did, she gets home at 4:00-5:00. That still leaves a few good hours for partying. Even if she had to be gone from Monday morning to late Monday night, she’d just move her little party to Saturday or Sunday.

Later…

Tom just got in and we bought a couple of pay-per-view movies off the Direct TV.

I also had him put the handle back on the music room window. These old, shitty windows don’t slide up and down. You wind the handle to push them outward. However, we couldn’t lay the soundproof panels on the narrow windowsill with the handle there, so Tom had taken it off. Now come Monday, I can really join the party next door and give them a taste of their own medicine by blaring some music out the window. The only problem with that, though, is that Tom will be here, and he’ll be thoroughly against it. He doesn’t believe in fighting back by giving what you get. Well, if I don’t blast them out during their Monday party, I’ll just get them in the middle of the night.

Later…

Tom got me a few bags of different salad mixes. Some have just lettuce, some have lettuce, carrots, and cabbage slivers, and some have broccoli, cauliflower, and carrots. The broccoli and cauliflower are great. I love the broccoli heated up with melted butter, and I love the cauliflower dunked in ranch dressing.

I am not looking forward to tonight. I know I’m in for some serious game-playing due to a certain someone who loves to tease and who has deep-seated fears. The way he was acting earlier was a dead giveaway as to what the sex will be like tonight.

Yeah, you guessed it. I’m mid-cycle.

Now, I know I don’t have to pray to God to do right by me when it comes to a kid. I don’t have to beg him to make sure I don’t conceive. It’s a done deal. What I have to pray for, though, is for God to help Tom get over his fears and his need to play games. Well, maybe I’ll just wish I could pray for this because I know doing so will never do a bit of good. Only Tom, with God’s allowing it, can change his ways.

Nonetheless, just the unusually high amount of talk about how I’m so gorgeous (which is a lame attempt on his part to cover for the truth - his love of teasing me/his baby fears), along with certain comments and attitudes, tells me that he’s more than likely gonna refuse to go inside me tonight. I’ll bet you anything that this will be one of the times he’s in the bathroom for a while before we get together. He doesn’t always go to the bathroom before sex, but he usually does. If he does tonight, though, that’ll kind of strengthen my belief as to why he really goes into the bathroom before sex. He’s gonna go and beat it off so that he’ll be pleasantly spent when it comes time to play his games with me because he gets off on that, and because he’s too stubborn to admit his fears to me, too.

He went to bed a little while ago and it’s just about 4 PM now. He wants me to wake him up in 4-5 hours for sex, then we can go back to bed together, he says, to work on our little test some more. He’s suddenly all the more anxious to work on our sleeping together test. See, I won’t be crashing till 11 PM-1 AM. This way, if he breaks up his sleep, we can overlap our sleeping a bit. Then he says he’ll get up a few hours after I’ve crashed so he can have time alone to finish my program. He said it may have a million bugs in it, but at least I can begin testing it out. He’s a great programmer, but my vibes say yes, it’ll have its share of bugs.

Also, Tom will be going to work at 7:30 on Monday evening. So he’ll be leaving in the middle of the party.

One more thing - I asked him how the hell he could screw after just a few hours of sleep and said something like, “You’re not even gonna be able to get in there, let alone go banging away.”

His response was, “Well, if you have it in your head that that’s the way it’ll be, it will.”

I shouldn’t have said that because now he’ll use that as an excuse to make sex a disaster. I just want to have fun. I don’t want to play games, I don’t want to make excuses, he’s welcome to never cum again, but I don’t want lies and games.

Later…

What the fuck are these weird mother-fucking freeloaders doing now? Is the bitch’s dad trying to take the place of her boy toy’s door slamming? She and her dad, who’s like an old version of Bill Cosby, just packed some shit into his Caddy, or whatever the fuck the silver car is, then split. Since it’s just wishful thinking that she’s going away for the holiday weekend, is the cock gonna bring its bitch back later, or what?

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 1998 Woke up at 115 pounds today. I seem to be doing a lot of that lately.

Yesterday, Tom and I ended up going to a video store where we got the new movie Titanic, plus 3 movies I picked out, and two he picked out. I liked all but one of the movies I picked out, but the Titanic - wow! It will make you cry for sure. It’s so sad and so scary. It really makes you hate God, too, for allowing such tragedy. The most terrifying part was when a part of the big ship turned straight upright. Some people held onto railings and stuff like that, but some fell downward and, on their way down, they’d hit things and bounce off of things. It totally brought me back to my jump, because I went down like that. I fell for a while, then flipped off an awning, then continued falling. It was also really creepy how one of the rowboats some of the people got into after the ship sunk, went gliding through tons of dead bodies just floating about.

At the video store, there was this really hot girl. Totally my type. Tall, thin, dark, etc. She had a plain face overall, but her black eyes and black hair were gorgeous. Her hair was a couple of inches from the crack of her ass. Even though she was casually dressed in a black, sleeveless shirt and jeans, and even though her body wasn’t femininely curvy, she looked great. Her boyish shape sort of reminded me of Brenda, but this one wasn’t bone thin.

We also went to that used bookstore. He got a magazine, and due to my building credit, I got 13 books for $12.50.

Later…

As figured, I haven’t shit today. My body’s just doing what it has to do to keep from falling under 115 pounds, I guess, since my body’s not comfortable at a lower weight these days. Not as a middle-aged non-smoker, it isn’t.

I knew this would happen. I just knew it would. One of my vibrators is started to crap out on me. I totally depend on these things. They don’t have screwy schedules, they don’t get irritation, they don’t get tired, sick, sore, or hurt. They’re all I can depend on sexually, and to tell you the truth - they’re better than the real thing. The real thing has too many problems and just doesn’t usually hit your most sensitive spots just right. With the vibrators, though, you’re in control. You hit it just right and just where you want it. It has no fears, no desire to tease or play games. It does what you want. Anyway, Tom said it was just a faulty contact, but that he can fix it if it acts up. I can use it as long as I hold it a certain way. This is the one I keep in the bedroom. I have the other one in the bathroom.

If there’s ever a time when Tom may play games (not let himself inside me) it’ll be tomorrow. That’s the closest I’ll be to mid-cycle on one of our scheduled sex days (he never wants me on the days we haven’t agreed to get together). Maybe he will let himself in there, maybe he won’t, but he sure as hell won’t cum. But that’s good, though, what with the way he’s so easy. Also, I’d bet my life on the fact that he too, prefers to take care of himself. I’m not the greatest in bed, I admit, and when he’s doing himself, he doesn’t have to risk the 5% chance of making a kid, since he’s only 95% sure I’m sterile.

I appreciate his being easy, and his keeping the sheets nice and dry, but I don’t like the lying. Again, I deliberately asked, how he knew the sex would someday be normal. Where he should’ve said, “It’s not because you rarely get off, and I practically never get off,” he said, “I can do anything if you give me enough time.”

Oh. It’s nice to know he needed “time” to be able to get off by his own wife in the first place. Nonetheless, he said what I suspected he’d say and flunked my little test.

Later…

It’s a quarter after 6:00 and at 6:00 I noticed the cock’s car out on the street in front of the bitch’s. It’s still there now, too, and it appears that he’s bringing the bitch home in the afternoons. If that’s the case, then that proves Tom’s theory right. He did move out because of us. Not because they’re fighting. But why are they being so cool about it? Are they biding their time, or what? In fact, I thought it was her come to talk to me about it at 6:00 when the doorbell rang (that’s how I first discovered it was parked on the street). I looked out the window and saw what I thought was the bitch next door. Dying of curiosity as to why this bitch would have the nerve to come to my door, I opened up. It was a Spanish girl, though, of about 13 years old (the bitch is so skinny and barely taller than me, that she looks like a kid when you can’t see her clearly) selling junk food.

Anyway, I know it’s still just a matter of months before that cock comes back, but guess what? As soon as it comes back - it’s outa here.

I’m a pound heavier today than yesterday. Yesterday I shit and was 116 pounds at the end of my day. Today I didn’t shit and am now 117 pounds. I also only had about 800 calories today and walked 20 minutes. I’ll definitely stay right where I am if I keep on shitting only every other day, that’s for sure, but at least I’m not gaining.

Later…

The freeloader has quietly left. Didn’t even hear a car door.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 1998 Just did the bathroom, dusted, vacuumed, and did a little rearranging.

As I was going through my jewelry, I came across a gold band with clusters of tiny diamonds. I can use it as a wedding ring since I’m too big for my original gold band. In fact, this is kind of big on me.

I was so sure I’d awake at just below 115 pounds, but nope. I was a smidgen over 115 pounds since I didn’t shit yesterday. I made up for lost time and shit twice today, which means I really won’t shit tomorrow. If something’s not determined to keep me from falling under 115 pounds, then my middle name’s not Lin.

I called Tammy yesterday to ask about the girl’s first day of school. She said it went well and that they like their teachers and classmates.

Later…

Today I washed and hung out sheets and the tablecloth.

Oh, am I dreading this Labor Day! I know there’s gonna be ball games if not music. They know I can’t complain to the city about ball games. I don’t know what my schedule will be then, but maybe I’ll be at Ma’s house helping Tom while we sweat our asses off. There’s no AC there, and the cooler’s broken. Anyway, with Ma paying for it, of course, he’s gonna get the city to bring over a dumpster so he can dump the remaining stuff. All the stuff that people wanted is out of there. What’s left is junk. It’s $200 for the city to give you a dumpster to fill up that they’ll haul away. He might also rent a truck that he’ll fill and then haul to the dump. We’re in a better part of the city when it comes to big bulky things, like old pieces of furniture, for example. We have alleys here where our dumpsters are, and periodically, they’ll haul away big stuff if you stick it out there. Ma doesn’t have an alley, though, so she has to bring her big stuff to the dump herself.

I was surprised, but pleased, that yesterday I only got one sales call. The day before, there were none.

I knew it was just a matter of time before Andy would be asking for a favor, and just like most favors he asks of me, it’s useless. He leaves me this message all anxious to get over here for me to give him a crash course in typing. I know this is just another one of the many things he thinks he’s gonna get into, but he’s all talk and no action. Anyway, in my message to him I told him that if he’s serious this time about learning to type well, there’s really nothing I can do for him because it’s all a matter of him getting a feel for the keys himself and remembering. Just like you remember the fingering for certain chords on the keyboard, well, this is the same thing. No one can do the work for him. He has to practice and learn for himself, so I recommended he go to a pawn shop and pick up a cheap typewriter.

Now for the results of last night’s sleeping together in the bed test. It went well, and I think I only woke up once when he pulled on the covers. I could feel the covers gliding over me. I don’t remember hearing his alarm go off or feeling him get up and leave the room. Hopefully, I can continue to adjust and hopefully we can sleep together fairly regularly enough, except for when I have appointments.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 1998 The black bastard is a free soul after all. It dropped its bitch off yesterday at 4 PM. Shortly after, the bitch’s daddy left.

Woke up at 115 today. Of course, I won’t shit today and will be close to 120 by the end of the day. Since there’s an excellent chance we’ll be hitting Vegas this month, I’m not gonna worry too much about how I eat, because if eating so little can put 4 pounds on me, imagine how much Vegas will put on me! I’m gonna have to start all over when I get back because I’ll be coming back in the mid-120s. Maybe higher.

Later…

Same scenario today - the blue car picked up the bitch - the bitch’s dad is kid-sitting.

I’m getting more and more nervous as we approach the 7th. Well, we’ll see just how bad miss bitch wants to stick around here. I’m sure she’d rather not get evicted, but if so, it wouldn’t be the end of the world for her. I’m sure her dad or some other relative or friend that she’s got wrapped around her finger would squeeze her and her kid into wherever they lived. This bitch just can’t go anywhere. Everyone has to come over here for the holidays. The bitch is probably one of the few within her sick clan that has a house, but I’m sure the bitch doesn’t want to go anywhere. Why would she want to go somewhere else when she knows she can invite me to the party too? She’d never not want to include me.

It used to be that she’d go elsewhere for Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, but last Easter, they made a scene here. Does that mean they’ll even stick around for Thanksgiving and Christmas this year?

Yesterday turned out to be a nightmare as far as my allergies went from 7:30 till when I went to bed at 6:00. It just went on and on and on all fucking day. Tom got up after I went to bed and left me a message that I got when I got up this morning saying that he thinks it’s the different brand of sawdust that I used for the mice because it was bothering him. Well, I intend to throw the rest of the stuff out, but if that’s it, then why didn’t my allergies flare up when I put it in the rat’s cage a few days ago? And why haven’t I sneezed at all today? Besides, my allergies went off before I even emptied out the old sawdust, let alone put the new sawdust into the cages.

All I know is that I’m sick of these allergy attacks that I seem to have once or twice a week and sometimes more. Will there ever be an end to them? Now that I don’t have asthma attacks, I gotta have allergy attacks, right God? Well, better to sneeze than wheeze, I guess, but this is still bad enough and I’m really fucking sick of it!

Evie mailed us some family pictures. I wasn’t there that day to be in these pictures, but anyway, they consisted of Tom, Mary, Ray, Steven, Dave, David, Evie, Nickolena, Parker, Mike, Carol, Matt, Ryan, and Mom. She sent a couple of duplicates that I’ll send Tammy so she can see what some of these people look like.

Later…

Fortunately, Melanie didn’t kill me today. I was in and out fast. I didn’t get to get my molar filled because the doctor went home sick, so I’ll be having that done the next time I see Melanie on the 14th. This time, I get to get filled first, yanked second, but I’m gonna be in there for a while. She’s gonna move the bracket on the tooth, so between the filling and the moving of the bracket, it’ll be a long drag.

Melanie still turns me on, but not as much as she initially did. She had her hair swept straight back. I don’t like it as much that way. It’s always nice to see her, though, and I got to have her all to myself.

Afterward, Tom and I stopped at Abco’s. He needed Slim-Fast shakes and hot dogs, and I needed Tic-Tacs, gum, and salad. This time I got Verona salad and an oriental salad.

Here’s something weird - yesterday I wasn’t stuck, ate very little, but gained 4 pounds towards the end of my day. Today I’m stuck, ate a little more, but only gained 1½ pounds throughout the day. Weird.

[babymetaldoll]

DIWK - Chapter thirteen: "Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new"

Words count: 16,5K

Summary: Spencer's headaches don't seem to have a logical explanation. The only thing that makes sense is that he has been causing them to himself by overthinking something that's already clear: he has been an asshole, and he should tell reader how he feels. Reader realizes she's been stupid all along. And then, she goes out with James. Frank, Lu, Garcia, and Derek finally intervene.

Warnings: Cursing (but that's just my writing style), angst, hurt, and a little comfort from friends. There's a fight, alcohol consumption. Someone is getting drunk...

A/N: Ok, so... here we go!

Masterlist

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five | Chapter six | Chapter seven | Chapter eight | Chapter nine | Chapter ten | Chapter eleven | Chapter twelve | Chapter thirteen | Chapter fourteen | Chapter fifteen |

Words count: 16,5K

Summary: Spencer's headaches don't seem to have a logical explanation. The only thing that makes sense is that he has been causing them to himself by overthinking something already clear: he has been an asshole, and he should tell reader how he feels. Reader realizes she's been stupid all along. Will she go out with James? Frank, Lu, Garcia, and Derek finally intervene.

Warnings: Cursing (but that's just my writing style), angst, hurt, and a little comfort from friends. There's a fight, alcohol consumption. Someone is getting drunk...

A/N: Ok, so... things are slowly but surely happening here.

---

Spencer's point of view

- "That doesn't make any sense!"- I nearly lost it at my medical appointment. To be fair, I was losing my sanity for the last week, but that day, that minute, I have had enough.

- "I'm not sure what you want me to say,"- the doctor frowned, confused by my reaction.

- "So there's nothing wrong?"

- "Well, your scans are perfectly normal, and there doesn't seem to be any physical explanation for your headaches."

- "Well, what do I do now?"- I was lost. I was hoping he could tell me there was something physically wrong with me that we could fix. But apparently, everything was ok.

- "Well, have you considered..."

- "Considered what?"- I knew what he was implying, but I didn't want to deal with that. The doctor sighed and simply just said it.

- "A psychosomatic cause."

- "Psychosomatic?"

- "It just means mental or emotional stress..."

I had to cut the doctor right there, 'cos it was nearly insulting that he thought he needed to explain to me what that meant.

- "I know what psychosomatic means, doctor, but it's not that."

- "Well, I think it's something we should consider."

- "It's not... I'm not crazy!"- but yes, I was going a little crazy at the time.

- "Crazy? Dr. Reid, I'm not saying..."- the professional stared at me, shocked, as I put on my satchel and stood up.

- "I have headaches. I have intense sensitivity to light because there's something wrong with me physically, not mentally. It's not that."

- "That?"

- "Listen, doctor, my mother's a paranoid schizophrenic who's been institutionalized, so I know very well what mental illness looks like, maybe even better than you, and it's not that. It's not."

I walked to the door, but before I could leave or dramatically storm out, the doctor added one more thing.

- "Your headaches are more likely caused by stress due, I suspect, to your very consuming job. My recommendation is to take a few weeks off and have a real vacation. Disconnect from work, and relax. That's all."

The doctor seemed genuinely concerned, so I just nodded and walked out. My head was killing me, and to be honest, I wasn't thinking straight.

It was Thursday. My head was killing me. I hadn't spoken more than a handful of words with (Y/N) since last Friday, and to call it torture came short. It was consuming my whole life at that point. I hadn't slept more than maybe three hours that entire week. After we reached home from Miami, I focused on the paperwork and whatever request for information that crossed my desk.

But I wasn't blind, neither deaf nor stupid. No, I was stupid for wasting so many chances I had in almost five years to tell (Y/N) how much I loved her. Now I was doomed to look at her from a safe distance, as she enjoyed life with her new boyfriend. James.

I first heard his name Wednesday morning when a delivery boy showed up at the bullpen, asking for (Y/N). Everybody looked at her, and she blushed as she raised her hand, and the delivery boy gave her a small box and asked her to sign for the package.

- "What is that, pretty girl?"- Morgan asked when the delivery was gone, and he walked over to see what was into the box.

- "I have no idea... but it passed security, so I know it's not a bomb"- she chuckled and opened it.

- "Wow! Did you send her these, kid?"- Morgan looked at me chuckling, but as soon as he saw my serious expression, he frowned, confused.

- "This is incredible!"- it was the whole Jane Austen collection in a deluxe edition. It was gorgeous. She obviously loved it. And it came with a card.

- "Can't wait 'till Friday night. James"- Emily read out loud as (Y/N) stared at the box, blushing- "Ok missy, you have some explaining to do!"

But I didn't stick around to hear the rest of the story. I didn't need the torture. So I stood up and walked to the kitchenette to get another cup of coffee. And then I hid in the briefing room because I needed to be on my own for a while. I sat at the table and stared at my hands, trying to remain calm. I couldn't cry at work. I shouldn't show my true feelings when my friends were around. I didn't want them asking a million questions I didn't want to answer with the truth.

- "Sorry, man,"- Morgan said as he walked in and sat at the other side of the table- I thought you had sent her those books 'cos you have been acting all weird lately, and you were trying to get on her good side

- "Don't worry"- I tried to look cool and even smiled at Morgan, but he knew better than that.

- "So... how are you?"

- "I'm ok, you?"- I was annoyed already, but I knew there was no way out from that conversation

- "Kid, come on. You can talk to me."

- "There is nothing I wanna talk about right now. I am ok!"- I stood up and walked around the room, frustrated and trying not to yell.

- "Come on, Reid. It's getting painful to watch! You have to tell her how you feel!"- Derek stood up too, and I widened my eyes at his words, scared everybody downstairs might have heard us. I looked at the door; it was locked.

- "I don't want to talk about that now."

- "Man! Come on!"- but I passed by his side and ignored him, opening the door and basically running back to my desk.

From where I could clearly see (Y/N) blushing and staring at her books. Great.

That day went painfully slow. By the time I reached my apartment, I was exhausted both mentally and emotionally. My head was killing me, and all I wanted was to get under the covers of my bed with a book, a cup of herbal tea and make a massive effort to get some sleep.

Apparently, I was asking for too much. Ten minutes after my arrival, my bell rang, forcing my weary body to move from the couch to the door. Sadly, it wasn't (Y/N), the only person I wanted to see that minute. Instead, it was Ashley, and I had to pretend and smile when I saw her.

- "Hey! Am I interrupting something?"- she asked with a cheerful smile as she stood by the door and showed me a paper bag- I got some extra dumplings, and I thought you might like to share

- "Thank you, Ashley... but I already ate."- I lied and watched her leave the box on my table and take a look around- "Wait, where did you get my address?"

- "It's on the system."- she answered casually, and I frowned, thinking there had to be a better way to keep our information classified if we were FBI agents. Not that I didn't want Ashley to know where I lived, but... I just didn't want her there.

- "And what were you doing?"

- "Getting... really to bed, actually. I am weary."

- "And... Do you need any help?"- Ashley stood closer to me and smiled mischievously. I cleared my throat, feeling awkward and even a little embarrassed with her proposal.

- "No, thank you, I'm ok."

But she didn't get the hint. Instead, she ran her tongue through her lips very slowly and rested her hands on my hips. My whole body aches at that touch. Not because I craved more, but because it made me feel nervous and uneasy. I didn't want her to touch me, but I didn't want to be rude.

- "You know, Spence, (Y/N) has a boyfriend now, and she definitely moved on with her life. Maybe you should start thinking about doing the same."

- "I'm sorry?"- I frowned as I stared at her silly grin. She thought she was flirting, but instead, she was actually hurting me.

- "I saw her Friday with Anderson's friend. She seemed to be having a great time. Maybe it's time you have fun too."- she leaned in and tried to kiss me, but I took three steps back and shook my head right away.

- "No, Ashley, it's not like that,"- she frowned, confused, and blushed, embarrassed immediately.

-" What? But I thought you... I thought you liked me."

- "I'm sorry, Ashley, but..."- I hesitated in my answer, trying to find the right ways to reject her. I had never rejected anyone before in my entire life. I have never been lucky with girls at all.

- "But what? You don't want me?"

No. I didn't want her. Not even a little. Not even at all. But I couldn't tell her that just upfront. I had to sugarcoat it. I didn't want to hurt her, though. She wasn't a bad person. Just... Not the right person for me.

- "I'm sorry, Ashley. I am sure you are an amazing woman, and any man would be glad to..."

- "Not any man, Spencer. You! I want you!"- but I just shook my head and sighed.

- "I'm sorry."

That was all I managed to answer. Her cheeks kept blushing, and somehow, her eyes were tearing up too. I remembered (Y/N) once told me that she would involuntarily cry every time she was upset, which always made her feel weak. I thought I could tell Ashley crying was totally normal when one's upset. But instead, I just stayed quiet.

- "You know, she is with someone else now. So she clearly doesn't want you, Spencer. Why are you waiting for her?"

I could tell she meant to hurt me, but she couldn't do it. Why? I guess because I knew she didn't understand (Y/N) and me. She tried to make it seem like (Y/N) had ruined everything, but I knew it had been me. There was no one else to blame but me.

- "I don't wanna fight with you, Ashley,"- I whispered and shook my head- And I don't want to talk about (Y/N) with you.

- "She doesn't love you, Spencer,"- that we both agreed on.

- "She has nothing to do with what's going on right here. I don't wanna have anything but a professional relationship with you, Ashley. I'm sorry if you had any other thoughts about us, but it's not gonna happen. Not tonight, not ever. And not because of (Y/N)."

Ashley gave me a stern look. Her chin quivered, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she grabbed the food she had brought and walked to the door.

- "You are gonna regret this, Spencer!!"- she yelled and stormed out of my apartment, slamming the door.

But no matter what, I knew I wouldn't. I wasn't going to regret rejecting her that night.

(Y/N)'s point of view

I stared at the books James had sent me and sighed. I was home alone on a Wednesday night, staring at a bunch of books on my coffee table. They were unique, gorgeous, and clearly expensive. But they meant nothing compared to the one sitting at their side: Spencer's edition of the Illustrated Man. It was old, had many notes on the sides, and the corner of the pages had been folded... primarily by me.

I sipped my glass of wine and sighed. I missed Spencer. I didn't want to go out with James. I wasn't interested in him at all. I just liked the attention I got from him, mostly 'cos I knew he had a crush on me... because Anderson had pointed it out as soon as he told me about him.

Tears fell down my cheeks as I ran my fingers through Spencer's book. I missed him. But he was with Ashley now. So I had to move on. I didn't want to, though. I just wanted him. I could almost see him there, on the couch, laughing. I could hear his laughter as we played board games. His current favorite was Monopoly Gamer Mario Kart, and he really enjoyed winning. He could get all cocky as he got all my coins.

Everywhere I looked around in my apartment reminded me of Reid. It was just the books, his cardigan on my couch, the umbrella he had left two years ago, and that belonged in my place now. It was just the pictures of him on the walls, memories of trips, dinners, Christmas, parties with Lu, Frank, and Mikey. It was literally everything. My apartment screamed Spencer Reid because he was the person I had shared the most amazing times with there.

On that kitchen island, we had carved pumpkins every Halloween for the last four years. On that table, he served the first meal he ever prepared from scratch. On that couch, we forgot about all our phobias and cuddled for countless hours.

My whole life was about Spencer Reid. How was I ever going to move on from him? How was I ever going to love someone the way I loved him?

I sobbed and just then realized I was crying my heart out. I held my legs, wrapping my arms around them, and rocked back and forth for a few minutes. I was losing my mind, and the only thing that made sense was crying until there were no more years left inside of me.

When the phone rang, I had a headache. I always get one after I cry. I prayed it wasn't a case 'cos I wasn't really sober after drinking a whole bottle of wine, crying, on the floor. Literally, on the floor. But it wasn't Penelope with a case. It was Frank, and he could tell from the very first moment that something was wrong.

- "Nugget, are you ok?"

- "Yeah, Paco, why?"- I slurred and cursed. I was busted.

- "Why are you drunk?"

- "Because I got home after a horrible day and decided to drown my fucking bad mood in chardonnay. Guess what? The shitty bastard keeps floating, but I am not giving up!"

Frank chuckled with my drunken words. I heard him light a cigarette and walk around somewhere I figured was his apartment.

- "And what is the doc doing?"

- "What the fuck do I know?"- my voice didn't hide the hurt I felt, but I forgot Frank had no idea what was happening between Spencer and me.

- "Doc isn't there?"

- "No, we are no longer tied by the hip."

- "Ok, nugget, what the fuck is going on?"

- "Spencer has a girlfriend."

- "What?!"- I nearly dropped my phone, 'cos Frank yelled into my ear after hearing my reply.

- "Yeah, Spencer Walter Reid has a girlfriend. So if you wanna know about him, you should call fucking agent trainee Seaver, who is probably training his cock right now!!"

I grabbed my glass and finished what was left of the wine. I knew I had another bottle in the fridge, but it was just Wednesday, I still might be called in for a case, and I still had to get up early in the morning to go to work. Getting drunk wasn't the answer. But... I wasn't asking any questions either. So I stood up slowly and walked to the kitchen to grab the bottle.

- "No, nugget. There's no way you are telling me the truth!"

- "Why should I lie? Spencer has a girlfriend. Her name is Ashley."

- "(Y/N), Doc has been in love with you for years! There's no way he has a girlfriend!!"- I put the phone on speaker and left it on the counter to open the cold bottle of wine and pour myself another glass.

- "Can you all people stop saying Spencer is in love with me?!"- tears filled my eyes as I shouted and hit the table- "I know he is not! And that's why I feel like shit!"

- "Ok, nugget... calm down. Are you home?"

- "Yes... can you come over?"

- "I'm sorry, I'm out of town. I came to New York for a job interview."

- "What?! When? Why?"

- "'Cos I thought maybe it was time for a new challenge..."- my heart stopped with those words, and Frank knew it- "But don't worry, I didn't get it. You won't get rid of me so easily, nugget."

- "Good, 'cos I don't want any more changes. I can't deal with any more things changing... I don't like it..."

- "Ok, nugget, I am a little worried now, so I'm going to call Lu and ask her to go to your house, ok?"

- "No, please don't"- I closed my eyes, feeling the room spinning as soon as I did- "I can tell I had a little too much to drink already, so I'll finish this glass, and I'll go to bed."

- "Are you sure?"- I knew Frank was worried, and the last thing I wanted was to be a burden for my friends.

- "Definitely."

- "Ok... what if we do something this weekend?"

- "Sure! I'll be free... if no psychopath decides to ruin our fun again."- Frank chuckled, and I took another sip of my wine.

- "Ok, sounds like a plan. Now please go to bed, and whatever you do, don't do any fucking phone call while you are under the influence."

- "I don't drink and call, Paco. Trust me,"- he chuckled one more time, his laughter bringing a smile to my lips 'cos it too damn contagious not to smile, and then, we said goodnight.

I looked around my kitchen. Nothing but memories with Spencer in there too. I could almost see him sitting at the other side of the kitchen island, sipping his coffee, giving me food facts as I cooked. The only fact I was sure about at that point was that if I wanted to move on from Spencer, I was going to have to move out of that place. Actually, I would have to move cities, states, probably countries. Because I knew everything reminded me of Reid.

But that night, for once, I knew I couldn't move on. I wanted to feel Spencer close, 'cos I missed him too much. So I did all the things I knew I shouldn't. I put on one of his shirts and sweaters and took a deep breath, wrapping my arms around me as I got under the covers of my bed, thinking Spencer was there with me. His clothes still smelled like him, and it was intoxicating.

So I did the only thing I could do: I closed my eyes and cried myself to sleep.

Thursday was a waste of a day. I had so much paperwork to catch up with, I put on my headphones and created a bubble around me because it was the only way to survive. Lucky for me, Seaver wasn't at the BAU that day. She was at the academy. Maybe that was why Spencer looked so sad. He missed her.

- "SSA (Y/L/N)"- I picked up my phone and turned around as soon as I heard Hotch's voice at the other side of the line, calling me at the end of the workday.

- "(Y/N), can you come to my office, please?"

- "Yes, sir."

I took a deep breath as I walked over, and brushed my hands against my pants, to get rid of any wrinkle or fuzz. When was the last time Hotch had called me to his office? Over a year earlier, after I had an argument with a suspect in the interrogation room. In my defense, she was striking my nerves. Ok, fine, I didn't have a reason.

- "Hi, is everything ok?"- I asked as soon as I showed up in Aaron's office.

- "Close the door, (Y/N), please."

And immediately, the knot in my stomach made me feel like I was being called into the principal's office. I turned around to do as asked and caught Spencer's eyes staring at me as he stood in the middle of the bullpen, clearly worried. And I felt so weak and moved by how concerned he looked; I did the first thing that came to mind: I smiled and waved.

- "Please, sit down,"- Aaron pointed at the chair across from him, and I did as told, again.

- "Is everything ok, Hotch?"- my question came right out of me, my lips moving before I had actually decided to speak.

- "I have been trying to find the right way to say this for the last half hour, and I am sorry, but..."

- "Oh shit! I'm fired! Why do you hate me so much?"- I jumped from my chair, and Aaron quickly followed me, trying to smother my reaction.

- "No, (Y/N). You are not fired! And no, I don't hate you! Calm down!"- I looked at him, confused and still suspicious.

- "Please, sit down. It's actually because I care about you that I didn't know how to tell you this, but I think almost five years is enough time to stay aside from what's been going on."

- "I'm sorry, Hotch, but I don't follow"- he clenched his jaw and sighed, frustrated. I just stared at him, waiting for the rest of the speech because my unit chief was clearly trying to find the right words to speak his mind.

- "Listen, (Y/N). This is very hard for me to talk about. I've always tried to keep everybody's personal life aside from the FBI. Unfortunately, your relationship with Reid is starting to affect you at your work."

Clearly, that was why he was so uncomfortable. I turned blood red and looked at my hands resting on my lap. I couldn't look into Hotch's eyes.

- "I don't understand. I don't have a relationship with Spencer."

- "The fact neither of you has acted on your feelings doesn't mean you don't have a relationship."

The words came more upset than what Hotch had intended, so he took a deep breath and walked around his office for a moment.

- "After what happened to Haley, I've given too much thought to many of the decisions I've taken in the last years of my life."

I didn't know how to react to Hotch's words because of all the things I could have thought we would talk about. Listening to my unit chief open his heart and talk about his feelings was definitely not my first guess. Not even the eighth.

- "And I care about you and Reid. I don't want you to have any regrets."

- "Which regrets could I have?"- I don't know why I asked if I knew I wasn't going to like the answer.

- "Spencer is in love with you, and you are in love with him. Stop running away from your feelings and face them. Sometimes you have to be courageous and take the first step."

I looked at Aaron Hotchner, almost certain the man sitting in front of me wasn't the same Aaron Hotchner who had once hired me. The man who refused to speak his heart. At least, not me. No way on earth that was Hotch.

- "I know it's strange that I tell you this, and I know I am not comfortable doing this... but... I can see that you two did something wrong, and you should try to fix it before you regret it."

For once, I couldn't argue those words. I knew the speech, but it was useless lying to Hotch. He could see through all my bullshit.

- "I... don't think he feels the same as I do,"- I whispered and kept my eyes on my hands, feeling how my cheeks blushed immediately.

- "You are wrong. You two have been nonsensical, and if I can be sincere, it's getting painful to watch- I winced in a mix of embarrassment and frustration."

- "Hotch... it's not that easy. I don't know if you noticed, but Ashley is the girl who caught his attention."

- "It's the lies that we keep telling ourselves that define what we are instead of who we can really be."- he sentenced, shaking his head- "He loves you. But for the last few weeks, you two have been acting like you are twelve years old."

- "I don't think you are getting all the info straight. I mean... I have tried to tell him."

- "No, you have tried to teach a blind man how to recognize colors,"- now that was Hotch frustrated. He was clearly awkward but also upset I wasn't following his ideas.

- "I'm pretty sure he is with Seaver."

- "He asked never to be paired with Seaver,"- Hotch refuted, frowning. Now that was new information. But I kept refusing to admit anything.

- "Probably not to be suspicious or to make sure his head was in the job."

- "His request was literally: "I don't want to give (Y/N) any sign I like Seaver, 'cos I don't."

Hotch looked at me in silence as I tried to process what he had just said. I couldn't believe it, but at the same time, you can't ever doubt Hotch.

- "Why would he do such a thing?"

- "You have to ask him."

- "Maybe he just doesn't want anyone suspicious about what they have."

- "Why is it so hard to believe? He loves you!"

I opened my mouth to argue with my boss when Anderson knocked on the door and excused himself.

- "Strauss sent you this, sir. She said it's urgent."- Grant said and cut me a small smile before disappearing from the room.

- "Thank you, Anderson."- Hotch said as he went through the papers and sighed.

- "You are busy,"- I inferred and stood up- "We can continue... whatever this was some other time if you'd like."

I stood up, seeing a clear way out of that awkward conversation. I wasn't sure I could open my heart with him.

- "One more thing, (Y/N)"- Hotch said as I stood up and almost ran to the door.

- "What is it?"

- "Tell him how you feel, or I'll have to take action myself."

- "What kind of actions?"

- "Let's hope we don't get to that point."

Hotch's face was severe. He wasn't joking. I just nodded and walked out of his office, scared of what would happen if I ever told Spencer how I felt. But now I was being forced to. That wasn't good.

I looked around, Morgan was packing his things to leave, and Spencer was on the phone, walking to the elevators. Probably he had a date with Ashley, and he was calling her to tell her he was picking her up. I sighed, exhausted, and shook my head.

- "What is it, pretty girl?"- Morgan cut me a warm smile as I reached his side and sighed.

- "I am so tired. I just wanna go home and get under the blankets of my bed with a warm cup of tea and a book."

- "Damn! That sounds thrilling! When is your big date?"- I frowned, groaning. I had totally forgotten about that date.

- "Tomorrow... I'm kind of hoping we get called on a case so I can cancel..."

- "Why?"- Derek looked at me as I started getting ready to go home.

- "'Cos... I don't feel like going."

- "Then don't,"- his answer was so simple I almost laughed.

- "Yeah... I have to go. Did you see the books that guy sent me?"

- "But that doesn't mean you have to go out on a date. You are not forced to do it just 'cos he sent you a present."

- "I know... but I don't know... maybe I'm just too tired and not thinking clearly."

- "Well, go to sleep, pretty girl. And tomorrow, depending on how you are feeling, you can cancel that date. I know someone who would be thrilled to know you won't go out with some guy."

I just shook my head and put on my jacket. I knew he was talking about Reid, but I wasn't in the mood to keep on talking about him with other teammates. Hotch's pep talk had been enough.

- "See you tomorrow, Derek."

Spencer's point of view

My heart dropped as soon as Hotch called (Y/N) to his office. The last time he had done that, she had gotten into trouble with an unsub. She lost her temper in the interrogation room and almost hit the suspect. Had she done something? Was she in trouble? The fact she smiled and waved at me before closing the door made me feel actually worse. Maybe she knew she was in trouble.

I kept looking over from time to time, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening inside Hotch's office, but I gave up after a few minutes because it was impossible.

I still couldn't shake the thought of (Y/N) being in trouble from my head.

- "Dr. Spencer Reid,"- I answered the phone and didn't take my eye from Hotch's door.

- "Hey Doc, Frank here. How are you?"

- "Hey! Good, how are you?"

- "Good, I was just thinking, is (Y/N) around?"

- "No, she is not. Why? She is with our chief unit... Do you need to reach her?"

- "No. Are you busy tonight?"

- "No, why?"

- "I need to talk to you. Alone."

- "Is everything ok?"- of course, it wasn't. Frank had never called to meet alone unless we were planning (Y/N)'s a surprise birthday party.

- "Yeah, don't worry. I just need to talk to you..."

- "Well... I'm heading home now."

- "Great, I just got off the plane... I can meet you there in an hour if that's ok with you."

- "Sure, see you there."

I had never been so nervous about talking with Frank before. Not even when we first met, and I freaked out thinking of any excuse to avoid going to (Y/N)'s apartment. The memories of that day filled my mind the whole way back home. That was the first time I had ever gotten drunk in my entire life, and I never told that to anyone. I always felt people thought I was a loser, and I didn't want to give them any more reasons to do it. But neither Mikey nor Frank ever laughed at me, though they were clearly cooler than I was. They would have never been my friends in high school.

Were they going to be my friends if (Y/N) and I stopped talking to each other? Of course not. What was going to happen between us? I had no idea, and the headaches overanalyzing everything produced me were driving me insane.

- "Hey man,"- Frank walked in and tapped on my back the second he showed up at my door.

- "How was your flight? Where were you?"

- "New York, applying for a job, but didn't get it,"- he took off his jacket and left it on a chair, as he had always done, despite the fact the hat rack was right next to the door.

- "I'm sorry, Frank."

- "That's ok. It wasn't for me."

- "I was gonna get something for dinner. Wanna join me?"

- "No, this won't take too long, I just..."

Frank sighed and looked at me, standing in the middle of my apartment. He was a little shorter than I was, so I had to look down at him, but that could never affect the fact he could kick my ass. I always knew that about him and Frank. In fact, I had seen them get into small fights a few times in the years I had met them.

And the way Frank looked at me that minute let me know he was actually considering hitting me.

- "Why are you mad at me?"

- "Don't profile me! I hate when you and (Y/N) start doing your Jedi shit."

- "I'm sorry, but... you are clearly not happy with me so, why don't you just say it?"

- "Ok, fine. What the fuck is wrong with you?"- Frank simply replied and crossed his arms on his chest.

- "What? What are you talking about?"

- "You have a girlfriend."

- "What? How do you... I don't!"- Frank just shook his head and started talking, not giving me a chance to explain I wasn't dating anyone.

- "Maybe this is my fault. Lu and Mikey kept telling me you had to tell her what you felt at your own peace! But four fucking years are enough to make up your fucking mind!! We were all sure you loved her, 'cos you did, right? I mean, as long as I know, you still do! I saw you less than a month ago, and you two were fucking husband a wife, for Christ's sake!!"

Frank was now almost yelling at me, and I still didn't understand a word that came from his lips.

- "Frank, what are you talking about?"

- "She fucking loves you!! And we were all waiting for you to date her!! Maybe even marry her!! But now you fucking ruined everything dating someone else! And she is fucking broken hearted!! You fucking hurt her!"- Frank yelled, his nostrils were flaring, and he even cracked his knuckles.

- "Frank, I don't really follow what you are saying, but I can assure you, I am not dating."

- "She already told me everything! You made her cry!!"

- "Who?"- I was so lost in that conversation I wasn't sure I followed him.

- "(Y/N)!! You broke her heart! And now I'm gonna have to break your bones!!"- the way Frank threatened me sounded funny, but it wasn't, at all, why? 'Cos I knew he meant it.

- "Wait!!"- I took a few steps back and raised my hands in a sign of defeat- "Stop it! I am not dating anyone!"

- "Don't lie to me, man. That will just make shit worst."

- "I am not lying! I'm just confused about all this... why would you say I'm dating."

- "(Y/N) told me yesterday."

I stared at Frank, speechless. My eidetic memory going a hundred miles, trying to find a moment in time that gave (Y/N) the impression I had a girlfriend.

- "But... I am not."

- "Then who is Agent Seaver?"- I froze and widened my eyes as Frank crossed his arms on his chest one more time and didn't move his eyes from mine.

- "Oh shit!!"- the curse was a whisper Frank read as a confirmation.

- "And you thought you could keep it from her?"

- "What? No! I am not dating Seaver! I don't even like her!!"- and for the first time since we started arguing, Frank gave me the chance to talk.

- "And why would (Y/N) say that?"

- "I have no idea!!! She hasn't spoken to me this whole week!! Not since I saw her making out with that random guy last Friday."

- "What?! She did what?!"- I feel like a blabbermouth telling Frank what her friend had done, but in my defense, (Y/N) had given him wrong information, and I had to set the record straight.

- "Can you explain to me what the fuck is going on between you two? 'Cos she didn't mention any of that!"

- "Beer?"

Ever since Frank and Mikey were my friends, I always had beers in my fridge. I didn't drink much, but I liked being ready in case they showed up. And they did, 'cos they were my friends.

I stood next to the fridge in the kitchen and took a sip of my beer. Frank stared at me from the other side of the room and waited for my explanation. So I tried to start from the very beginning.

- "I don't know why (Y/N) thinks I'm dating Ashley Seaver, but I am not. I barely talk to her."

- "Who is she?"

- "A young agent Emily is training in the BAU... she and (Y/N) don't get along from the start 'cos Seaver's dad killed Mrs. (Y/L/N)'s sister back in college."

- "What?!"- Frank was in shock.

- "Yeah, it's been pretty awkward since day one."

- "And what? She tried to apologize, and (Y/N) nearly killed her?"

- "That was day one. Everything went downhill from there. But I don't get why she thinks we are dating. I barely talk to Seaver. I specifically asked our unit chief not to pair me with her at any case or task to make sure (Y/N) wouldn't think I liked her."

- "Clearly, that didn't work,"- Frank pointed out the obvious and grabbed his phone- "We should ask (Y/N) why..."

- "No!! Please don't!! I don't want her to know we are talking about this,"- I almost choked on the beer when I heard him say that and nearly jumped to take the phone from his hand.

- "Why?"- I didn't have a reason. I just didn't want to do anything that might actually make things worse.

- "Because..."- I didn't pronounce another sentence. I literally deflated after just one word.

- "Shit, that's deep,"- Frank joked and sipped his beer- "If you are not dating Seaver, why haven't you told (Y/N) you love her?"

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped in my tracks and simply shrugged. It felt useless to deny it anymore. Apparently, everybody could see it but (Y/N). And if she did see it, then it just meant one thing:

- "Because she doesn't love me back. Now she is the one dating some random guy she met at a party."

- "The one she kissed Friday?"- Frank raised an eyebrow as I just nodded- "She probably did that out of anger is she thought you were dating Seaver."

- "You didn't see her, Frank. She didn't look hurt at all. She actually looked like she was enjoying it."

- "Well... I didn't see her, and you are right about that. But I've seen her for the last... five years or so. She loves you. You should ask her out on a date, finally."

- "Why would she go out with me?"- I asked, embarrassed of facing my feelings so openly in front of Frank. But he just shrugged and said.

- "I just said so, 'cos she loves you."

Now that was just painful to hear, especially 'cos Frank actually meant it.

- "She doesn't."- I whispered and sipped my beer.

- "Sorry, but I wasn't asking you if you thought she loved you. I am telling you, she does. Now, if you don't want to believe it, that's an entirely different story.

The way Frank looked at me, saying everything so lightly, like it wasn't a big deal at all, shocked me. He had always been upfront about pretty much everything since day one. But still, that day, I wasn't prepared for that. I stayed quiet, looking at the floor, not knowing what to say.

- "Shit! You really don't believe she has feelings for you!! Are you blind?!"

- "Frank, she is my best friend in the whole world. I don't want to lose her..."

- "Why would you lose her? Just 'cos you love her?"

- "If she doesn't feel the same... and I tell her how I feel..."- I started mumbling, but Frank snorted, frustrated.

- "She is so fucking in love with you; it's hard not making fun of it!! She way she looks at you, how she is always worried about you!"

- "She does the same for you, guys."

- "I've met that woman since when we were kids, and believe me, she has never treated us the way she treats you. We are still waiting for her to bake us birthday cakes. She bakes yours every year. Last year's cake was sick! She fucking made the whole Tell-tale heart scene on your fucking cake and hid a heart in the middle of it!! You know what she did for my birthday? She wrapped the guitar strings she got me. That was it. If that doesn't tell you how in love she is with you, I've got a fucking list of things she has done for you all these years! So fucking deal with it and tell her what you feel!"

- "I can't! I just can't do that!"- I yelled back at Frank, for once opening up about what I really felt- "Every time I look at her, and she smiles, my whole brain turns to mush! I can't tell her I love her 'cos she will laugh. A girl like her deserves everything a man can give her! Have you seen me? She deserves so much better!!"

I'm not gonna lie. It felt good finally saying what I felt out loud. Like a weight had been lifted from my chest. Frank just walked over and tapped on my back a few times, nodding.

- "She fucking loves you! You should be with her! That's it! Why are you overthinking this?!"

- "'Cos I don't wanna ruin it!"

- "You two have wasted like four years! I told her I wanted you two to date since the day I fucking met you! She had to ditch Paul and date you! But she is so fucking convinced you don't love her, she is..."

- "What?"- my heart stopped at those words- "Did she say so?"

- "She did, in fact, yell to me I had to stop telling her you loved her 'cos she knew it was a lie, and that's why she was in so much pain. When did that happen, you ask? Fucking yesterday, so don't come here and tell me she is dating some random guy she kissed at a party when she is clearly in love with you."

I don't know how to explain what that felt like. It was heartbreaking and, at the same time... encouraging?

- "She loves me?"- I asked Frank, still not fully understanding our conversation.

- "Doc, she fucking went behind your boss's back to stay with you in Las Vegas to help you figure out the case of a kid you thought your dad had killed. She fought Gideon when he told her she was a bad influence for you. She hates Lila Archer's movies because of you. I've seen her yell at the tv!"

- "What?"- that was too much information.

- "Just please, fix this shit and tell her you love her"

- "How?"- I honestly asked 'cos I didn't know how to do that. Frank frowned and finished his beer, leaving the bottle on the counter.

- "I don't know, man. Give her a romantic speech about what a big ass you've been all this time thinking she didn't feel the same, ask her to forgive you, and fucking kiss her!!"

- "Ok... how do I do that?"

- "I don't know, doc! You are the genius here!"

- "Actually, I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified... and I have no idea what to do..."

- "Yeah, clearly, this is not your forte. I'll give you that"- I shook my head as Frank stared at me, finally a smile curling on his lips.

- "You know everything she likes. There's no way you can go wrong. Just go to her house and tell her the words she wants to hear: I love you."

I nodded and tried to engrave those simple instructions in my head 'cos I knew I was going to ruin it: go there, say I love you. That was it. It was simple. I could do that. Right?

- "Do you need a ride?"- Frank asked and threw me my jacket.

- "Yes... I think I do."

- "Ok, doc, let's do this!"

(Y/N)'s point of view

I held my cup of tea with both hands and smiled, finally relaxing. That was just what I needed after a long miserable day. I sat on the couch, resting my feet on the table right in front of me, and sighed.

- "Sure, make yourself home."- Lu joked as she walked over with a bowl of popcorn and sat by my side.

- "Hey! I took off my shoes! I know you hate it when I leave footprints on your furniture."

- "How considered!!"- Lu joked as I grinned - "You should definitely come more often then."

- "I promise I will..."

- "And when are you gonna talk to the doc?"- I simply shrugged and focused on the tv in front of me.

- "(Y/N), you do realize you just spent two hours finally coming to your senses, right? I don't care if it's 'cos your boss is pushing you to do it. You have to tell Spencer you love him."

I pouted and groaned, but I knew she was right.

- "First, I have to cancel my date with James."

- "Yeah, do that now."

- "No, I don't wanna face reality today. I'll call him tomorrow around noon. I'm gonna tell him I'm on a case out of town, and I won't be able to make it for dinner."

- "Why don't you just tell him you are not interested 'cos you are in love with your best friend?"- I looked at Lu and widened my eyes- "Oh, come on!! We already passed the initial shock. We all knew you've been in love with Spencer for what seems to be ages!! I knew you loved him since you have him the scarf you knitted."

- "That was ages ago!"- I smiled and sighed- "He still wears it every winter"

- "Of course, he does, 'cos he loves you."

- "Do you really think he does?"

- "Are you serious? That man has been crazy for you since day one! He has been unconditional to you! You two can talk about your nerdy things for hours! Watching you is actually endearing. I had never seen two people just looking at each other with such love before! So please! Just do the right thing and tell him you love him."

I sighed and closed my eyes. I had concluded I had to tell Spencer I loved him because Hotch was right; it was affecting my work. I had to put an end to all that nonsense. Lu kept telling me Spencer would tell me he loved me too, but I was sure he wouldn't. Still, each time she tried to convince me, she made a point.

- "And he took you to Hawaii."

- "He didn't even touch me."

- "So? He hates the beach! The man hates the sun, the sand, and the seawater, and what did he do? He took you for ten days to a resort to the beach 'cos that's what you wanted."

- "His doctor told him the sea breeze was good for his lungs after the whole anthrax incident."

- "Anthrax, my ass! He wanted to make you happy, no matter if that meant being miserable for ten days. If that shit ain't love, then I have no idea what it is!!"

Lu was mad. She had cursed. I looked at her and just nodded.

- "And when you two have your first kid, I wanna be the godmother."

- "Lu, aren't you going a little fast?"

- "No. You two have been too slow with our confessions, so it's time someone speeds this up."

I drove back home around midnight. I was weary, and my body needed a good six hours of sleep after that miserable day. But I knew I wasn't going to get much rest. The idea of telling Spencer how I really felt was too scary, and I wasn't sure I would be able to go through with the plan. I didn't even have a plan. I just knew I had to do it before Hotch took the matter into his hands. Whatever that meant.

It was sad getting to my empty apartment. It felt cold and impersonal. I missed having Spencer around. We hadn't talked in a week, and I had never felt so alone in my entire life. If things didn't go well, I thought I could get a cat. I had always wanted one but never actually decided to take the big step and adopt one. I could go to the shelter and get a kitty.

I poured myself one last cup of tea and walked to my bedroom. Spencer's shirt I had worn as a pajama the night before was still on my bed, and I guessed there was no harm if I wore it again. I got under the covers and wrapped my own arms around my waist. I wondered if there would be a day when Spencer would cuddle me to sleep in our shared bed. Not like friends, like we had done so many times. It was embarrassing to think how many of those nights I had fallen asleep pretending Spencer was my boyfriend.

- "I am in love with you."- I whispered and sighed, closing my eyes.

What would Spencer do if I ever said those terrifying words out loud? I could almost see him freaking out in front of me. He wouldn't know what to do or what to say. If he didn't love me back, he would try to find the most careful way to reject me. He would reassure me he loved me, just not like that. But our friendship would be ruined anyway. I could never see him in the eyes after feeling his rejection. If he didn't love me, I was going to lose my best friend.

Sometimes, I felt Spencer was my soulmate. Lu was right; I had denied my feelings for too long. Had I wasted years of happiness with my honey bunny? Was it too late to tell him how I really felt?

I practiced my speech until two in the morning, rolling in my cold bed, alone, until I finally fell asleep. At seven am, I looked at my reflection in the mirror as I got ready for the day. That Friday was the day I was going to tell Spencer I loved him. I had to look my best. So I put on a lovely dress that always made me feel pretty, though I couldn't find my matching and favorite silk scarf. I did my hair nicely and put on a decent amount of makeup, primarily to hide the big dark rings under my eyes.

I stopped by Spencer's favorite coffee shop on my way to work and got him a cup of coffee and a box of donuts. I took a deep breath as I got out of my car and reminded myself I was doing the right thing. My plan was simple: I was going to give Spencer the coffee and the donuts as an apology for not talking to him in the lastest days. I was going to cancel my date with James, and I was going to ask Spencer out. Maybe like a date, and confess my true feelings for him.

But my plan was ruined before I even reached the main building. I walked through the parking lot and saw Spencer getting out of Ashley's car, holding a cup of coffee. They looked like the lovely young couple they were, after getting breakfast together... after spending the night together...

My broken heart kept breaking as I stared at the scene from a safe distance. I was right. I was too late to fight for Spencer. I had wasted all the chances I had ever had to be with him, and now I couldn't ruin his happiness. If he wanted to be with Ashley, I had to do the right thing and get out of his way.

I hurried up inside the main building and rushed into the elevator. I took deep breaths, trying to hold the tears inside. Whatever happened, I was not going to let Spencer see me cry. I grabbed the box of donuts and the coffee and hesitated when I reached the bullpen. Hotch was already in his office, talking with Rossi. I looked around, knowing Reid was about to get in there with Ashley, and I needed to hide from them.

- "I'm so glad you are here!!"- Penelope turned from her computer, surprised to see me rushing into her office.

- "Hey, munchkin!"

- "How is my favorite tech genius this morning? I got you breakfast!"- I could pretend to be hyper and happy, right?

- "And I love you so much!!"- Penelope smiled and grabbed the coffee- "Smells... delicious!"

- "Only the best for my dearest friend"- she looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

- "Are you ok?"

- "Of course!! I had a good night of sleep, and tonight, if no fucking psycho killers ruin my day, I am going to have a date with a hot guy who is so into me. He already sent me an expensive present, which by no means makes me feel pressured, not even a little! No!"

I freaked out immediately, thinking I had a date with a guy I didn't even like.

- "Ok, baby, sit down"- Penelope tapped on the chair next to her and looked at me with worried eyes- "Are you getting cold feet about this date?"

- "I just... I don't know how I feel about that date. I was ready to cancel, and now... I think I just should go."

I definitely wasn't telling Garcia what had happened earlier; how I was going to tell Spencer I love him until I saw him in Ashley's car. Why? Well, first, I didn't want to cry at work. Second, she would say I had to tell Spencer how I felt. And third, she would tell Morgan.

Penelope sipped her coffee and frowned. Still, she didn't say a word. Instead, she looked right into my eyes and whispered.

- "If you don't wanna go out with him, you don't have to."

- "I know. I just wish I wanted to... do you know what I mean?"

- "I do... "- Garcia nodded and sighed- "Munchkin, you don't have to do anything you don't want to, really."

- "Thank you"- I rested my head on her shoulder and just sighed. We both stayed quiet for a moment until my dear friend questioned.

- "Why did you give me Spencer's coffee?"

- "Wh... what?"- I felt so caught I actually stuttered.

- "This is not almond milk. This is filled with dairy, both milk, and cream... and the amount of sugar in this is..."

- "Oh, please!! Can you just pretend I fooled you?!"- I was mortified- "It's fucking eight in the morning, and the day has already turned as awful as it could be."

- "Come on, baby"- Garcia tried to soothe me- "You know life can always get worse, so let's start by being honest. Why didn't you give Spencer the breakfast you got for him?"

- "For not being a profiler, you are creepy good reading people, you know?"

- "Yes, I am a genius. You should have noticed that earlier in life. That wasn't so bright from you, profiler,"- she teased, trying to make me laugh. And I actually chuckled.

- "Good, I got a smile. Now, tell me what happened."

- "But I don't wanna cry at work... and Hotch already called me out for being unprofessional about this whole Spencer's thing."

- "What? When?"

- "Yesterday, he said I have to tell Spencer what I actually feel for him, or he is gonna take matters into his hands."

- "What did he mean by that?"

- "I have no idea! But it sounded serious,"- I sighed, defeated, and sipped my coffee- "So after zero sleeping for days and a very awkward talk with our unit chief, plus the threats from one of my closest friends, I had decided to tell Spencer that I..."

I couldn't even say it

- "What I feel for him, today."

- "Today?! With this breakfast I am eating?"- and of course, PG freaked out.

- "Well, I was going to give him food as an offering for ignoring him this week... then I was going to ask him out tonight, and that's when I wanted to tell him... but..."

I paused and took a deep breath, doing my best not to cry. I really didn't want to show how hurt I was, though I was almost sure my dear friend Garcia could see it clearly in my eyes.

- "Just please, don't tell Morgan."

- "My adorable munchkin, I don't tell everything about you and our resident genius to Derek!"

- "Yeah, but... I just... feel so..."

- "Good morning, Garcia!"- I bit my lips as soon as I heard Ashley's voice storming into my friend's office- "I brought you coffee!"

Penelope held my hand and squeezed it as soon as she noticed my mood shift.

- "Hi!"- and my dear friend was so awkward it could have actually been fun if I wasn't so angry.

- "Oh, hi (Y/N), I didn't know you were here already..."

- "Yeah, we were having breakfast, actually,"- I pointed at our coffees and donuts, and Ashley nodded, blushing.

- "Sorry... I didn't know you were here... I didn't get you any..."

- "No, don't worry, Ashley. It's not like you know you I actually work here too,"- I wasn't even trying to be polite with her anymore. I hated her. Hotch was going to be so mad...

Seaver just stared at us and nodded in silence. Then, she turned around and left, closing the door behind her back. I groaned and nearly hit my head against the desk.

- "Wow, you are not even pretending for the cameras."

- "That was me trying not to kill her, actually. If she walked out on her own, then it was a very successful encounter."

- "What the hell, (Y/N)?"

- "I was gonna tell him, and then I saw him getting out of her car in the parking lot..."

- "Spencer Reid?!"- Penelope freaked out. I just nodded- "Dr. Spencer Reid?? The nerd in love with you? Getting out of her car?"

- "And carrying breakfast, like a lovely young couple. I bet they banged last night."

- "No way!"

- "Why not?!"

- "Because he loves you, and no one calls it "bang" anymore!" Where have you been?"

- "Penelope!"- my friend smiled at me and offered me a donut, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and resting her head against mine.

- "My dearest munchkin. Don't let this stop you. You were on a mission this morning."

- "They banged, fucked, had sex, call it what you want!! I am not telling Reid anything!! And I guess I'm going out with James tonight 'cos... if I don't, I'm gonna die alone, and my cat is gonna eat me!!"

I was nonsensical. I knew it. But there was nothing that could stop me from being absurd. I was scared and hurt. I actually thought I was going to go crazy.

I stayed with Penelope for a while, trying to cool my head. I didn't want to snap with Seaver again. I knew it had been a mistake. I saved Hotch a donut and asked him if I could work in JJ's old office. I told him I wanted to concentrate and that I really needed the time alone. Of course, he could see through my bullshit.

- "I told you, if you don't fix things with Reid, I am going to intervene."

- "I am going to do it, sir. Just... after I get all this paperwork done. I'll talk to him this weekend."- I looked into Hotch's eyes, trying my best to lie correctly. Do you have any idea what lying to the best profiler in the FBI felt like? It was mission impossible.

- "Good, (Y/N). I'm glad to know you've made the right decision."

- "Thank you, sir."

Spencer's point of view

After I got out of Frank's car, holding a bouquet of flowers, I forced him to help me get in our way over. It took me almost half an hour to walk from the sidewalk to the door of (Y/N)'s building.

- "I am in love with you,"- I whispered and shook my head, knowing she deserved better than that simple confession. I took the stairs, trying to improve my speech.

- "I have always been in love with you, from the minute I first saw you,"- I whispered and wiped off the sweat from my hands against the fabric of my jacket. It sounded terrible. I knew I was going to get it all wrong.

- "What am I doing?"- I stopped in my tracks before I reached her floor- I can't do this.

I literally froze and felt sick in my stomach. I couldn't do that. What was I doing? How had I let Frank talk to me into doing something so stupid? What was I getting into? I couldn't do it.

For a minute or so, I stood in the middle of the stairs, not able to move or formulate a single coherent thought. I was trying to

But if I didn't, and she loved me... I was going to lose everything I had ever dreamed of and that I never imagined I could have. No, I had to do it. I had to tell (Y/N) I loved her. And I had to do it that day. "Your head is spinning because it's full of ghosts," I remembered Julio's words and took a deep breath.

I ran the last steps of the stairs and reached her door, panting. But I didn't wait. I knocked on her door and waited.

- (Y/N), it's Spencer. Are you home?- but nothing. So I knocked again.

- Chipmonk, please open the door. I know I've been an asshole this whole week, but I need to talk to you. There is something you should know.

But nothing. Just silence. I knocked a few more times and patiently waited. No answer. I thought about it for a second and took the key she had given me years ago in case of any emergency. I had ended up using that key a million times, not really for many emergencies. I used it to prepare her surprise birthday party many times or come in when she knew I was coming. Or when I stayed over for the weekend, and it was my turn to pick up something from the store. So that day, I used it and opened her door.

Walking into (Y/N)'s apartment felt like walking into her arms. It smelled like her, and it felt like home. I took a look around, calling out her name. But she wasn't there.

Her place was kind of messy. There were many blankets on the couch and some clothes lying around. Man's clothes. For a moment, my heart sank. I thought maybe James was spending time there too. But soon, I realized...It was my clothes. I walked into her room and saw her unmade bed. My old red sweater was on her pillow, and some of the shirts she liked were close as well.

Why was she surrounded by my things? Did she... miss me that much? Could it be Frank was actually right? She loved me and missed me? I looked around and tried to find confirmation, though I felt overwhelmed by emotion at the moment.

(Y/N) loved me. There was a chance she actually loved me the way I did.

I fell on her bed and contained tears that almost started falling down my eyes. There might be a chance she loved me, and I refused to ruin it. She couldn't find me in her house out of the blue. She deserved better than that. She deserves the world. So I quickly collected all my things and walked to the door to think of a better way to confess my undying love. Undying, cheesy, and yet, honest.

But before I was out, I walked back to her room and opened her closet. If she had all my clothes to think of me, I wanted a souvenir too. My eyes traveled quickly through all the items hanging until her purple satin scarf caught my eye. I loved how she looked on it, and it smelled like her. I hid it in my pocket and walked out of her apartment.

Not even the tiny bouquet of flowers I had gotten her seemed to be enough. Frank said she'd love them, but... it just wasn't good enough for her.

I had a lot of planning to do. And I have no idea where to start. I had high standards to beat. After all, I had read all of the romantic books (Y/N) had in her house and seen all the romantic comedies she loved. All of those more than ten times. So... how was I going to do it? Was I going to pour my heart out to her in the most romantic way possible and finish with:

- "I am just a boy, standing in front of a girl, asking her to love him,"- I said out loud as I poured myself a fresh cup of coffee.

No. That didn't feel right. It had to be better. Who was (Y/N)'s biggest love reference? Mr. Darcy. How had he done it? Well... he didn't do it right the first time, so he started making amends with a letter. I could begin with a letter. After all, I had written (Y/N) many love letters I had never given her in all those years. Letters that contained all my feelings for her as a way of letting it out of my chest. But they were never meant for her to see.

I sat at my desk and grabbed my favorite pen. But before I could actually start writing, I noticed I needed music, romantic music, for inspiration. I picked the same Amy Winehouse vinyl record I had been listening to for the last couple of days and walked back to my seat.

Writing a love letter wasn't easy. Putting facts into words, that's a task I can complete, no questions asked. But that Thursday night, I struggled with every sentence I created. I wasn't a writer and neither a man who had any kind of experience with love or being in love. Less with confessing such feelings. But I had to give my best.

Around one in the morning, I finished the third version of that letter. Frank had texted me to know if things had gone well, but I told him she wasn't home.

- "Don't worry, Paco,"- I said and smiled while holding her silk scarf- "Tomorrow is the day."

My wristwatch said four in the morning when I stopped painting and decided to get into bed. I had to get at least two hours of sleep. Not that (Y/N) had never seen my insomniac face before, but I needed to, at least try, to look presentable for her. After writing, my mind was flooded with emotion, and I couldn't stop thinking about everything we've been through all those years together. (Y/N) and I. we had been best friends for so long, yet, I could now see our friendship had always been a little different. We were closer... sidekicks... lovers without kissing. I needed to feel her hand in mine. Her arms around me. But it was only a few more hours.

Was she going to like me in the morning? I felt butterflies in my stomach just with the idea of confessing my feelings. I set everything ready and went to bed. I barely had the energy to put on my pajamas and turn off the lights. (Y/N)'s scarf wrapped softly on my wrist.

I frowned, baffled and lost, when I opened the door the following morning and found Ashley at the other side.

- "Can I talk to you for a moment?"- she whispered and handed me a fresh cup of coffee- "I brought you a peace offering for being so obnoxious the other day."

It was clear Ashley was honest, and she was embarrassed about her behavior. Otherwise, she wouldn't have shown up at my door. So I smiled and nodded, trying to show her I wasn't mad at her.

- "Water under the bridge"- I whispered and held the coffee she gave me. No milk, no cream, no sugar. Just like (Y/N) liked it. Ashley noticed how I prepared coffee at the BAU but never realized I wasn't making myself a cup. I was making (Y/N)'s.

- "I am very embarrassed... and I really like working with you... regardless of everything I said. I don't..."

- "We can pretend that never happened,"- I interrupted her, and she just smiled and nodded.

- "I would like that. I am sorry I was rude... Do you want a ride to work? We are a little late."

I thought about it for a second. I wanted to stop by and get (Y/N) more flowers, but we were late, and I wasn't planning on telling her how I felt until later that night.

- "Sure, let's go."

(Y/N) was nowhere to be found that day, and that immediately got me on my nerves. Her things were on her desk, but she wasn't there.

- "Hey García, have you seen (Y/N)?"- I walked in and watched her stay still, shocked.

- "Hello there, Dr. Reid. How are you today? Nice to see you too."

- "Sorry!"- I cut her an awkward smile and waved- "Hi! How are you?"

- "The damage is already done, Dr. Reid. Clearly, you are not here looking for my companionship."

- "Sorry, I just haven't seen (Y/N) today. You?"

- "Yes, my pretty chipmunk was here earlier, and that's all I know. Why?"- Garcia raised an eyebrow and looked into my eyes- "Why are you so interested in her?"

I didn't know if it was because I had spent most of the night planning to confess (Y/N) my feelings, but Penelope's question sounded suspicious. I tried to act normal and just frowned.

- "I just wanted to know if she was here 'cos I haven't seen her around."

- "She had work to do, and I think she had a meeting with Hotch."

- "Again?!"- I couldn't help but raise my voice, scared of the idea of (Y/N) being scolded by Hotch for two days in a row.

- "But she had a meeting with him yesterday!"- I argued, but Garcia just shrugged.

- "That's all I know. Also, she brought donuts"- I stared at her dish. Chocolate frosted donut with sprinkles. My favorites.

- "Do you know if she... got one of those for me?"

- "I don't know, why don't you ask her?"- Garcia questioned back and raised an eyebrow

- "I would, but I don't know where she is."

- "Besides... didn't you have breakfast already?"

- "There's always room for a donut... for my favorite donut."

Penelope raised an eyebrow, trying to read beyond my words. Was I just talking about donuts, or was I talking about (Y/N)? Did she actually mean breakfast? Of course, she did. Garcia wasn't implying anything else! I was just overthinking everything!

Right?

- "I'll see if she is still with Hotch."

- "Hey, Reid"- Penelope called out my name when I was about to reach the door- "When you see her, you should tell her it's her breakfast you are interested in. No other."

I stared at Garcia and opened my mouth. But no word came from it. I just know I blushed and nodded, leaving her office soon after.

But I didn't find (Y/N) during that whole day. And it was both frustrating and nerve-wracking. The letter I wrote her kept burning me, as I felt it in my jacket's pocket, beating like a second heart. I wasted a whole paperwork day trying to concentrate, but I couldn't. I managed to get the least work done in years, 'cos my mind focused on her. On (Y/N). In her absence.

By the end of the day, I had lost all hope of finding her around and did what all desperate men would do. I waited by her car in the parking lot.

Around six-thirty, I heard her shoes approaching the vehicle, and my heart stopped when I saw her eyes in mind, nearly shocked to find me there.

- "Hi"- that was all I managed to say. My voice was a whisper that even I barely heard.

- "What are you doing here?"

- "I was waiting for you. I thought it was obvious."

I smiled and tried to ease her mood. But it didn't work. She looked so mad at me, though those few words were the longest conversation we had shared in over a week. Why was she mad at me? Was it too cheesy to tell her she looked adorable when she was mad? Of course, it was. I still took a mental note to tell her that later on. Maybe later that same evening if things went well.

- "Why?"- (Y/N) frowned and opened her car, and threw her purse in the back seat.

- "I wanted to talk to you."

- "I can't, Spencer. I am late,"- she called me by my name, and that reality check hurt me.

- "Late for your date with James?"

- "I don't feel like talking about that with you. Goodbye, Spencer."

- "Wait. (Y/N), stop."- I held her arm and felt her whole body shiver under my touch. I would have held her longer, but she pulled her arm from my grip and frowned- "Why are you so mad at me?"

- "Mad? I am not mad!"- I know she was a good liar, but she was so mad her whole body language gave it away, along with her high-pitched voice.

- "I think you are... Why?"- I tried to move closer, but she crossed her arms on her chest and stood next to the opened passenger door. Ready to escape.

- "I am just in a hurry, Spencer. That's it."

There it was, the confirmation of her anger. My name, leaving her lips with fury. I wanted to hold her. I needed to feel her close, with a desperation I had never experienced before. I was craving for her. And there she was, right in front of me, refusing to even look at me.

- "Can you just... give me a chance to talk to you?"- my words came as a whisper, almost as a beg.

- "Isn't someone else waiting for you?"

- "Me? No. No one,"- I answered, confused by what she was implying- "I just need to talk to you. Please."

- "Sorry, I'm late. But... maybe..."- (Y/N) hesitated and looked at someone else walking close to us. I didn't even bother. I couldn't take my eyes off her.

- "Would you... would you take this?"- I held the letter and gave it to her. She hesitated before taking it, and my heart nearly burst at the thought of her holding my love confession in her hands.

- "What's this?"

- "Can you read it?"- but it only lasted for a second. (Y/N) shook her head and gave me back my letter.

- "Not now, I'm late."

- "(Y/N), please."

- "No, Reid. I can't read this now. I am late."

- "Please, (Y/N). I need to tell you something."

- "And I need to leave. So, bye."

(Y/N) slipped through my fingers like water. I stayed still, staring at her as she disappeared, and cursed myself under my breath for being so petrified to act. I wanted to cry. I was so frustrated with myself.

- "I love you. I don't want you to go out with him. You should be with me."

It was liberating to say those words out loud even though she wasn't there to listen.

- "Nice kid. Now next time, say it when she can hear you."

I recognized Morgan's voice behind me. And I guess I could have felt embarrassed if I wasn't so frustrated already. And most of all, so mad at myself. I had practiced. I had tried. I knew what I had to say. But when I was with her, I just couldn't. And now he was out there on her way to date another man.

I felt Derek's hand on my shoulder, tapping on it a few times. I sighed and nodded.

- "Come on. First-round is on me."

It only took Morgan two rounds to get me talking. To be fair, I wanted to speak. He had already heard what I wanted (Y/N) to know.

- "I just wanna tell her I love her. I need to tell her what I feel for her 'cos now I can see there might be a chance she loves me too."

- "Might be a chance?"- Morgan frowned and shook his head- "Kid, that woman is head over feet in love with you. And she has been for years. I just can't believe you've wasted all these years!!"

- "I can't believe I am sitting here with you when she is out there on a date with some other man!!"- I nearly yelled and drank what was left of my third whisky, immediately raising my hand, asking for another round. Derek raised an eyebrow as he stared at me, and somehow it felt like he was mad at me for something.

- "Kid. You know I love you, but you've been so fucking stupid and blind it's been painful for us to watch! You've had so many chances to be with her! She has been crazy in love with you ever since she was dating that other guy!!"

- "Paul? That was ages ago!"- I said ages to sound less obsessive, but I knew exactly how long it had been since they had broken up. It was also the amount of time I had spent without using Dilaudid.

- "Well, she loved you even back there! I bet you are the reason they broke up!"

- "No, I wasn't"- I sighed, thinking I wished I was, but I knew (Y/N) had broken up with him 'cos she didn't love him.

- "Why are you so sure?"

- "She told me"- Morgan raised an eyebrow and looked at me so severely- "What?"

- "Back then, that girl got into trouble for arguing with Lila Archer. Remember?"

- "Eidetic memory, Morgan. Of course, I remember."

- "Sorry, genius"- the waitress arrived with our fourth round, and my body felt way more relaxed by them. Also, my tongue started to slur as I spoke.

- "My pretty pumpkin actually called Lila, and I quote: "annoying, always ignoring our orders, keeping herself in danger, not helping, being a squeamish little princess who is used to do whatever the fuck she wants, and who didn't care to put people around her in danger."- I chuckled remembering that conversation- "And then she joked saying "Of course you were oblivious to all this 'cos you couldn't stop staring at her."

- "Ok, Reid, that's what girls say when they are jealous! And she was clearly jealous of Lila! When she saw you two in that pool? I thought (Y/N) was gonna kill her! I swear I was waiting for her to jump into the pool and end with her!"- Morgan laughed, picturing the scene in his mind. I sipped my whisky, not quite sure he was into something there.

- "I really think she didn't like her 'cos she found her annoying. (Y/N) finds most people annoying."

- "And not you. What does that tell us?"

- "That I am not annoying"- Morgan looked at me and opened his mouth to say something but stayed quiet. And instead, he just chuckled.

- "What about that waitress?"

- "Who?"

- "The one you picked up in the bar with a magic trick?"

- "I didn't pick on her!! I was doing my work and..."

- "And you got her phone number, and she sent you that card with a kiss..."- Morgan stared at me, waiting for a reaction- "Ok, in case you didn't notice, (Y/N) was jealous of her too."

- "She was mad 'cos she said I was unprofessional."

- "Ok, fine, whatever. And now, what's the plan, casanova? When are you telling her you love her?"

- "Now, tonight, after this drink,"- and I hurried to drink it faster.

- "What?"

- "I've got a love letter like Darcy gave to Lizzy."

- "Who the fuck are those?"

- "Her favorite characters from her favorite book"- I explained, annoyed, and drunk- "They were in love but never acted on it 'cos they were both proud and held severe prejudices against each other. So when he told her he loved her, it was a mess. Then, he wrote her a letter trying to explain to her why he had been nonsensical. Then she read it and realized she loved him, but thought it was too late, so both of them acted like nothing was going on until they realized they had been fools, and Darcy confessed his love, and she told him she loved him too..."

There was a blank stare in Morgan's eyes when I was done speaking.

- "How many times have you read that?"

- "Today? Eleven"

The way Morgan wide opened his eyes, shocked, made me think maybe I had overreacted with how many times I read Pride and Prejudice. But he didn't say anything, just nodded.

- "Ok, kid, you can't talk to her today."

- "Why now? I was actually going to drop by her apartment and read the letter."

- "Spencer, you are drunk."

- "I am not!"- I was, in fact, intoxicated.

- "Prove it!"- Derek dared me, chuckling

- "How? Want me to walk on a line and touch my nose with my fingers?"

- "Go talk to those girls over there"- he pointed at a bunch of women who kept flirting with him from a distance at the bar counter.

- "Why would I do that? I am in love! I just told you I am about to confess my true feelings to the one woman I wanna spend the rest of my life with. I swear, Morgan, if she says she loves me, I'm gonna ask her to marry me."

- "What?!"- my friend nearly choked with his drink.

- "Yeah! I've wasted too much time! I wanna marry that woman! In fact! I'm gonna tell her that right now!"- I stood up too quickly, and the whole room started spinning. Morgan grabbed my arm and forced me to sit down again.

- "Hold on, Reid! You need a round of water before we leave this bar."

- "No, Derek, you don't get it. I finally see everything clear now!! It's all clear!! I've loved her for so long... and maybe Frank is right, maybe she has loved me all along."

- "Dude, that's literally what I've been telling you for the last hour!!"- Morgan nearly yelled, frustrated.

- "Yeah, but Frank has been her best friend since they were four! Can you imagine? Little (Y/N) at four, playing... our kid would be so cute if they are like her."

- "Ok, Reid, you are creeping me out"

- "Why?"- I couldn't understand why Morgan was so shocked. I thought he wanted to know how I felt.

- "For the last five years, you've been in love with her, and you've denied it over and over again. And now suddenly, you get drunk and spill your heart open."

- "I just... I don't want these ghosts haunting me anymore. Julio was right!"

- "You lost me, man"

- "Our last case in Miami. My head was killing me, and Julio knew it. He said it was this job and everything I was bottling up that was driving me insane. Now I can see it clearly! I have to tell (Y/N) how I feel for her! That woman is the love of my life! She saved my life!!"

- "Calm down, Spencer."

- "Calm down?? She is out there with that guy!! What if they kiss again? What if they fuck?! No way! We have to stop her. I have to stop her!!"

I don't know how I got out of that chair and stormed out of the bar.

- "Reid! Wait!"

(Y/N)'s point of view

James was hot. Yes, that's true. I can't deny what's real. I saw him talking at the other side of the table, being charming, being fucking perfect. And there I was, not feeling anything. Nothing. Good old (Y/N) a few years ago would have been crazy for that guy. Before I met Spencer. But after Spencer.... There was nothing after him. And I could see it. I could feel it inside of me. How he had ruined me without even touching me. Does that make any kind of sense?

- "So, what do you do when you are not fighting crime?"- James asked me with the most charming smile. I just sighed and tried to look interested. I honestly wanted to try. But I soon realized everything I could answer included Spencer.

- "I am a big nerd, so I'm getting ready to go to Comicon this year."

- "In costume?!"- he widened his eyes and smiled, excited

- "Yes, of course. In costume is the only way to go to Comicon,"- in costume with Reid...

- "And which is your costume this year?"

- "Slave Leia"- James smiled mischievously and ran his tongue through his lips.

- "I won't miss this Comicon."

- "I also like hanging out with my friends. I usually host dinner parties 'cos I love cooking,"- with Spencer...

- "That's awesome, 'cos I love eating. Are you into board games?"

- "Yeah! Love them! We usually play a lot."

We. Spencer, and I.

I was doomed. I was never going to love anyone else. Spencer was overshadowing everything I might like about James. What did I actually like about James? That he was interested in me. Was Spencer interested in me? Lu said so. Garia said so. Emily said so. But I didn't. Why? Why couldn't I believe Spencer might love me? Was I terrified to lose him as a friend, or was I petrified to lose myself in him? Was I scared to be loved by him? To be happy? To have someone to love me, want me, and make me happy?

Was I scared of being loved by Reid? Of being happy with him? 'Cos each time I thought about it, it didn't feel like Spencer was just a guy I had a crush on or a guy I had fallen for. It felt like he was the love of my life, my happy ending. My forever after. And that scared the shit out of me. I've always been scared I would ruin the love of my life like my parents had destroyed their happiness. I knew the job was going to get in the middle. And I was already in love with my job.

Well... so was Reid.

In fact, we shared that love. We did everything together, including working. And god, I loved being in the field with him. I hated the fear of losing him I often felt whenever we were together, but the thrill of catching an unsub with Reid, of saving lives together. Nothing could ever compare to that. Well, maybe sex with Spencer, but I didn't know it for a fact. I wished I knew...

- "(Y/N)?"- James was looking at me, waiting for an answer. But I never got the questions. I was just lost in the thought of Spencer.

- "Sorry, you were saying?"

- "I was wondering if you wanted to go somewhere else... Maybe you could show me your record collection."

Dinner was over. We had our dessert and coffee. A part of me felt I had to say yes, 'cos I felt pushed to like him. But I just couldn't force it. I knew it was meant to turn out badly.

- "Actually, I'm tired... I'm sorry. It was a long week and included a trip to Miami to catch a lunatic..."

- "Of course, not a problem. I'll take you home."

The drive back to my apartment was mostly silent. It wasn't awkward, but it wasn't really comfortable either. It was just me feeling Spencer's absence. And it hurt in ways I hadn't realized just yet. It made me wonder if my life without him was destined to be like that.

- "I had a great time tonight,"- I said when James parked outside my building.

- "Me too..."- he turned to me and cut me a big smile, as his eyes locked with mine. I could see him leaning in, and my whole body refused to kiss him. So I opened my door and nearly jumped out of his car.

- "Ok, it's getting late."

- "I'll walk you to your door."

- "No, you don't have to."- but James was already by my side, holding my hand (something I absolutely hated) and walking with me to my building.

- "I have to tell you, (Y/N). I was hoping to meet you at Anderson's party."

Oh shit, I didn't really want to go through that conversation with him. I thought I could just ghost out of that dinner, but James wasn't making things easy. So I opened my building's door, and he followed me in. Shit.

- "I don't know if he told you anything but... I just had the biggest crush on..."

- "James, you don't have to..."

- "But I want to. I just feel like we could go somewhere. I know it's only our first date, but I think you are the most incredible woman I've ever met. And I would be ecstatic if you would want to go out with me again."

I sighed and turned to him. We were standing by my door, and I could feel he wanted to kiss me goodnight.

- "James. I feel flattered, but... I can't do this."

- "What? Why?"

- "Because I am in love with someone else... I've been in love for a while now, but I never thought I might have to actually act on it until now..."

James stared into my eyes, confused, hurt, and... sad. I nodded and did the kindest thing I could under the circumstances and hugged him.

- "I am sorry. You are a fantastic guy, and I'm sure if I wasn't in love already, this would have worked, but..."

- "It's ok, (Y/N). Really. You don't have to apologize. I was just one date, no harm done."- my date kissed my cheek and smiled- "Besides, I got to meet my favorite profiler."

- "Prentiss?"- I joked, and he chuckled.

- "And what are you gonna do about this mystery guy?"

- "I don't know. I don't think he feels the same... but I think I have to tell him, or I'll go crazy."

- "He would be crazy if he rejects you,"- James whispered and smiled- "Good night, crime fighter."

I closed the door behind my back and let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I felt bad for James. But I couldn't take care of his feelings when I had been neglecting mine for so long.

What was I supposed to do? I was so tired of overthinking everything. Of being afraid. I put the kettle on to make myself a cup of tea and laid on my couch for a minute. It smelled like Spencer. There was one of his sweaters there. I quickly grabbed it and buried my face in it, pretending it was his neck, and I could even land butterfly kisses on his skin.

I couldn't run from it anymore. I was going to tell Spencer Walter Reid what I felt for him. And I was going to do it the following day. How? With my original plan: I was going to bring his favorite breakfast to his house. I was going to apologize for being a jerk, and I was going to invite him over for dinner. I was going to cook his favorite. Then I was slowly and carefully going to handpick the right words to tell him I am desperately in love with him.

That sounded like a good plan. My phone rang, forcing me to roll on that couch, but I carried Spencer's sweater with me. It was Penelope.

- "Please don't tell me we've got a case."

- "No, munchkin. I just wanted to check on you. What happened to James?"

- "I blew him off- I stood up and walked to the kitchen to make my cup of tea- "It was kind of painful."

- "I'm glad you did anyway. You have to do the right thing."

- "Yeah, I guess,"- I closed the widow 'cos there was a lot of yelling coming from the street.

- "Where are you?- Penelope asked, probably hearing it too.

- "At home, getting ready for bed."

- "What's that noise?"

- "I don't know. I think there's a fight downstairs. Anyway, tomorrow I'm gonna talk with Spencer and tell him everything."

- "Please let me know how that goes!!"- I chuckled as I heard the genuine excitement in her voice.

- "I promise I will. Thank you for checking on me."

- "Anytime, munchkin. Sleep tight."

Spencer's point of view

- "Oh shit! Oh shit!"

I saw (Y/N) getting out of James's car, and Derek had to hold me on my seat to stop me from running over. We were parked outside of her building, and Morgan was still trying to convince me to go home. I told him I would behave and peacefully go home if I saw (Y/N) reaching her home safe and sound... without James.

But no. He was there. I could see him walking with her, hand in hand, to her building.

- "Maybe he is just going to take her to her door,"- Morgan said, trying to calm me down. I clenched my fist and waited in silence for a few seconds. But James didn't leave her at her door. He followed her inside. And that was when I lost it and literally jumped off the car.

- "Reid!! No!! Wait!!"- Derek ran behind me and grabbed my arm. A car passed and honked at us, 'cos it almost ran me over. I wanted to yell, "Fuck you!" but I barely noticed it. My eyes were locked at that building's door.

- "Dude! Come on, get back in the car!"- Derek tried to calm me down.

- "No!"- I argued and kept pulling my arm, trying to get free of his hands. But he wasn't letting me go.

- "You are drunk! You are not thinking straight! Come on!!"

- "No! Let me go! I need to talk to her!

- "What you wanna tell her, you should confess sober, with flowers... and chocolates, or whatever she likes."

- "I can't wait anymore!! I can't wait until it's perfect!! He is going to kiss her again and... and I can't deal with that!!"- I managed to get loose of Derek's hand and ran to (Y/N)'s building the second James walked out of it.

My blood boiled as soon as I saw him, and my first instinct was to punch him, But I managed to suppress it. Instead, I just looked at him threateningly. Or at least that's what I tried to do.

- "What's your problem, dude?"- James frowned as he noticed me staring.

- "You are my problem, dude,"- I answered with a snarky tone as that asshole took a step closer and shook his head.

- "What the fuck?!"

- "Stay the fuck away from (Y/N), James,"- I said, and he widened his eyes, surprised I knew him.

- "Who the hell are you?!"

- "I am the love of her life, and you are in the way of our forever after."

- "Kid, come on"- Derek tried to pull me away, but he was just embarrassing me.

- "Yes, kid. Go with your buddy. Leave (Y/N) to me."

James chuckled and turned around. And I don't know what took over me, but I couldn't control it. I ran to him and pulled his shoulder. I felt the pain of my fist hitting his face, but I didn't care if my knuckles were on fire. All I could feel was the profound pleasure of finally breaking that guy's nose with my own hands.

- "What the fuck?!"- Derek was in shock, and honestly, so was I. I didn't know I had that in me. I had never gotten in a fight that wasn't with an unsub. And still, on the field, I always tried to talk my way out of every conflict.

- "He has to back off! He is getting in the middle of my relationship with my pumpkin!!"- I argued and looked at my hand, knowing it would be sore in the morning. That was when James's fist collided against my jaw, and I felt how my whole body nearly spun like a cartoon with the strength of the blow.

- "Hey! Hey! Stop!"- Derek pulled James away from me as I touched my face, trying to put two and two together.

- "Tell your friend to stay away from me, or I'm gonna break his face!!"

- "You and which army?!"- I yelled and tried to punch him again, but Morgan stayed between us, trying to keep us apart.

- "Ok, ok, calm down, we are leaving! Reid! Come on!!"

- "No!! I am not leaving until I am sure that he is going to stay away from her!!"

- "Stay away from (Y/N)? Deal! Now get the fuck away from me!"- James shoved me on his way to his car, and I nearly hit him again. But Derek stopped me. He grabbed my arms and pushed me to his car.

- "Enough! I'll take you home."

***

DIWK Taglist:

@all-tings-diego @big-galaxy-chaos @muffin-cup @shilohpug @eternalharry @tvandfanfic @fandomtrash2405 @eyakoroleva @nani-2305

Spencer taglist

@calm-and-doctor

General Taglist

@spenxerslut @ash19871962 @babebenhardy @meowiemari @archer561

–

Do you want to be on the taglist or ramble about this chapter with me? Just send me a message here.

Next update: July 7th, 2021

[losingitinjersey]

Happy due date, Aug! 

As you can see from the pictures, Erp and Aug met each other for the first time at the hospital!  My mom brought Erp over with her (you can tell she was dressed by her with the huge bow and fancy shoes) and it was SO GREAT to see my girl again!!  I’ve never had this much time away from her and I couldn’t get enough of her hugs and cuddles.  She was curious but cautious of her sister but continued to share her toys and books with her!  Although, every time Aug cried, Erp would shrink into herself and start crying as well, crawling into my arms for comfort.  My heart!  

On Friday at noon, 53 hours of being in the hospital and sitting in that increasingly uncomfortable bed, we were all packed up, dressed and ready to be discharged only to learn that Aug didn’t pass her hearing test on her left ear.  We were told we had to stay for four more hours for her to retake the test.  Defeated, disappointed and worried, we tucked in, napped and waited out those hours only to have her not pass a third time.  The hospital pediatrician wasn’t worried and said we’d just need to follow up with an audiologist in 4 to 6 weeks to see what’s going on.  By 6 p.m. that night, 59 hours in total at the hospital, we were finally on our way back home.  

We’ve now had over 24 hours at home with all five of us (my mom, Kevin, Erp, Aug and myself) and, I gotta say, I’m SO happy to be out of the hospital and adjusting to life at home.  

The first night at home (Friday the 13th) was rough.  I was emotionally and physically exhausted, desperate to create and cling to a routine that made sense.  But since Aug needs to feed every three hours (from the start of the feeding, and each feeding takes at least 30 minutes), there’s not much time in-between each session.  Kevin asked me if we could supplement with formula to give myself time to rest and not being responsible for each feeding but I refused.  Sure, my milk hasn’t come in yet but I wanted to do it all myself and work hard at feeding and getting my supply going through all the feedings.  I got maybe two hours sleep the first night.  

On Saturday morning, Kevin, Aug and I drove the hour and a half to our pediatrician in Norfolk to have her check out the babe.  She was very concerned about her weight loss and told us we need to immediately start supplementing with formula.  Like, had to do a bottle right there in the office in front of her and to give her 2oz of formula every three hours on top of breastfeeding. We have a follow-up appointment on Monday and Wednesday for weight-checks.  While I was disappointed to hear my girl, who was already a better at breastfeeding than Erp, wasn’t getting enough food.  Since this information was told to me by the pediatrician and not by my husband, I had no qualms about it and just want to make my girl healthy.  

The rest of the day went well.  I was able to nap AND shower!  First time in four days!  I was a new woman!  My mom asked me what she could buy me as a small gift of celebration - if I wanted a cake or ice cream or something.  Hands down, totally asked for a big dinner from Jersey Mike’s sub sandwiches.  Best decision ever.  That night my hormones got the best of me when my mom and Kevin decided to prioritize my sleep over everything else and basically sent me to bed at 9:30 p.m. telling me not to get back up until my shift at 6 a.m.  Oh, and also, that Kevin wanted Aug to try to sleep in her crib in the nursery with Erp (in her own crib) that night.  That decision was something I wasn’t ready to process and I tail-spinned from there.  I knew my hormones and lack of sleep were getting the best of me as I desperately tried to explain my feelings and try to help out more. Eventually, I just went to bed and hoped for the best, trusting my husband and mom were capable and just trying to do the best thing for me (even though *I* thought the best thing for me was to help out more, not sleep). (Also, the room sharing only lasted maybe five minutes before Aug started crying and needed to be removed from the room).  

Day three at home, Sunday/today, has been amazing so far.  Even though I was awake for two hours during the night, I did get a total of six hours and had a really great morning solo with Aug.  This was probably the most time she and I have spent one-on-one with each other and it was so needed.  I woke up at 6, by 6:30 I was breastfeeding her, by 7 I was feeding her a bottle.  By 7:30 she was down for a nap and I was pumping.  By 8 I got Erp up and loved having a solo morning with her, it was so good for us both!  By 8:30 I was finally able to make myself a delicious breakfast of avocado toast, fried eggs and french pressed coffee.  My mom was up at the same time so she was entertaining Erp while I got to eat in peace.  It was just the morning I needed.  Having that time with both girls one-on-one, but also at times together and having everything go well was so healing. 

Oh, and on top of everything else mentioned above, my feet have become horribly swollen thanks to the 3L of IV fluid pushed through my body and my face is incredibly puffy.  The breastfeeding cramps are brutal this time around and my nipples hate me. Desperately looking forward to a few weeks from now when, hopefully, my body has recovered more.  

Looking forward to continuing to find peace in structure and creating a routine that works well for us all.  While my free time is few and far between (especially when you throw in a very needy/grouchy cat into the mix who’s horribly being neglected despite my best efforts), I continue to find bright moments of joy in this new world of parenthood.  

[magpie-scribbles]

Ahhh I’m bit late but here is my part of the BNHarem ~*Collab*~

Title: Call Me

Pairing: F!reader X Maijima Higari (Power Loader)

Rating: E

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Smut, sex work, older man younger woman 

Higari sighs, his metal tipped fingers tapping on his work table 11pm, 11 pm and he still had so much to do. Normally he relished having work to do, rather being a busy bee than not, but lately the stress had been catching up to him. The academic year was in full swing, and with more villain activity than usual he was beginning to wear...A lot of his projects (pet projects) were starting to fall behind because frankly he was too stressed and found himself getting upset with himself when he made mistakes or miscalculations, which seemed to be happening a lot in his overall raised tension.

Realizing he wasn't going to make any progress aside from going in circles. He slumps, plunking down onto the stool next him, thumping his head against the metal of the workbench and just...sitting there allowing himself to cool off...or perhaps it was wallow…

Bzzzzz bzzzzzzz he feels it as much as he hears it as an incoming text reverberates through his skull. He tilts his head, just enough to glare at his cellphone on the far end of the workbench; he could ignore it, he could...but he doesn't. With a groan he sits up leaning over to swipe the phone up to see the notification.

Oh...Nemuri.

"Heeeyyyyy, how you doing???" She follows up with a few heart emoji.

To someone on the outside looking in it might seem like she’s flirting, or that they had something going on. But he and Nemuri had been good friends for so long that he doubts he could ever see her as anything but.

"Fine" He types out simply, not in the mood for banter, he hopes she's not putting together a last minute bar hop.

"Ooooo"

"That rough huh?" 

"Stressed?"

The texts come in rapid succession. He sighs.

"I'm fine" He repeats; though it's nice to have someone that worries about you from time to time.

It takes her a moment to respond, he can see the little typing indicator, bounce along the bottom off his screen and then stop and then start again.

"Did you call her yet?? 👀👀👀" Her response finally comes and he groans.

He had a feeling she was going to bring this up sooner or later.

"No I haven't called her yet" He replies, grumbling to himself as he hits send harder than he needs to.

"You should, she could really help you relax 😌" He can practically hear he voice through the illuminated text on his screen, goading him.

He can feel his face heat up, he wasn't a prude...this was just...he wasn't a prude!

"Kayama" now beginning to wish he never picked up the phone.

"It's not just about sex Maijima, where's your head??😏😏😏" now she was just being cruel, he shakes his phone in his gripe blowing out a puff of air, wishing he could berate her.

"In all seriousness tho, she can help you out, it's her job, she's really nice!" She adds.

He sighs, deflating a bit, mulling over the idea for a while...he thinks he still has the card Nemuri gave him. 

Reaching into the front pocket of his jeans he pulls out a crinkled card, oh, yeah he had definitely washed these pants a few times. Luckily the card had been printed on heavy sleek looking cardstock. And even with the edges slightly worn and the the paper somewhat crinkled, no expenses were obviously spared as the elegant type face remained readable even after a few trips through the wash...which was good for him because if it hadn't then he'd have to ask Nemuri for the details and that's something he would not want to live through. 

He sighs, looking from the card to his phone, weighing his options...he was very stressed and Nemuri said it didn't have to be about sex...not that he didn't like that! ...Damnit…

Suckling on his teeth he slowly punches in the number printed in embossed gold.

___________

You settle down into the pillows and blankets of your freshly laundered bed, wondering if you even want to try and read the next chapter in your book that sat on your nightstand. The sheets were still warm from the dryer and damn, it was tempting to just nestle in and go straight to bed.

BBBZZZZ BBBZZZ

Your brow furrows, the sudden sound brings you out of your very important and very difficult decision. For a moment the sound eludes you as you listen for it again.

BBBZZZZ BBBZZZ

Oh fuck that was your phone, your head whips to the nightstand again; the illuminated screen blocked by the book you had just been considering as the device vibrates beneath it.

You grumble, you know it could be a client but most of them had the decency to not call this late…well most of them did. 

Grabbing your phone you gaze down to the screen, cocking your head when you see a string of numbers you've never seen before, hmmm.

Reclining back into the comfort of your pillow pile you answer.

"Hello this is L/N F/N speaking." You say, all business; not one to ever come off as unprofessional even if it was a spam call.

There was a long pause; you almost repeat yourself when you hear someone clear their throat.

"Miss L/N, this is Maijima Higari....uhhh, Kayama Nemuri said I should contact you." His voice is soft baritone with a bit of gravel to it, he seems very uncertain, but you know who he is right away.

To be honest you had been quite curious about him since Nemuri had told you about her fellow hero and coworker.

You worked a lot with heroes, some high profile ones too, but you've never had a client that was also a support specialist, or as Nemuri had put it, a keen inventor. You were intrigued.

"Ah Mr. Maijima, Kayama mentioned you-" you begin.

"She did?" He interrupts and you can hear him shifting away from the phone "motherfucker"  you hear the breathy hiss, and you have to keep yourself under control because you did not want your first conversation with the man you had been interested in hearing from, to be you laughing at him.

He must have realized you can hear him because there's more scrambling on the other end of the line.

"Sorry 'bout that...Nemuri...likes to talk." He sighs.

You chuckle warmly; she had mentioned he was somewhat proud and what she called "aggressively" shy.

"She definitely can be quite the gossip." You reply and you hear him groan. "Though I assure you, it's all good things Mr. Maijima."

"Somehow that doesn't put me at ease at all…" he huffs, and you can't help but let out a small laugh.

There is a pause again, and you decide to gently encourage him.

"So what can I do for you Mr. Maijima?" You ask gently.

There's shifting on the other end of the line again and then a small cough.

"I've...I've been stressed lately, like...more than usual and Kayama said that you might be able to help with that." You can tell he's a bit uncertain on how to ask for your services.

"Of course, I'd be more than happy to help, just tell me what you need and I'll set up an appointment. " You recline further into your pillows.

"Uh well...fuck I've never done this before…" he sighs.

"That's perfectly alright." You reply, waiting for him to continue.

"...I-I don't know?" He says finally and you smile, you like when they're honest; not trying to show-off.

"Of course, we can figure everything out along the way." You hum and you hear him sigh in relief.

"Alright, yeah." 

"How about I put you in for this Friday at 8pm, I'll make sure that we have the whole night free to get you settled." You make a mental note to put that in your planner (not that you could forget, you were surprisingly eager to meet him.)

"Today's Wednesday." He says in reply.

"Yes?"

"So you mean in two days? The Friday in two days?" You suppress a chuckle; definitely needed to relieve some stress.

"If that's an issue I'd be happy to-"

"NO!...No it's fine, just surprised is all." His voice trails off and he clears his throat. "Sooooo so how do I do this?"

You pause for a moment considering. There are a few luxury hotels and venues you've preferred to use in the past...but...you decide to throw caution to the wind.

"Let me give you my address." You reply, a very rare option you give to only your most trusted clients; but he was good friends with Nemuri and you trusted her judgement whole heartedly.

"Oh!...are you sure you're okay with that? I understand if you don't want to do that, safety and all, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable" You smile, he was already quite the charmer even if he didn't know it yet.

"No need to worry, I wouldn't give it to you if I didn't want to." 

"Okay, if you're okay with it." He replies warily and you smile to yourself.

"I'll send you a follow up text with my address and a reminder of the time; is this an okay number to send that to?"

"Oh yeah, sure."

"Perfect, well Mr. Maijima, I'll let you go and I'll send you my info."

"Yeah, sure...uh thanks for this Miss L/N." He replies.

"It's my pleasure." You reply.

He gives you a quick goodbye and then the line goes quiet; chuckling to yourself you scoot down further into your blankets and quickly add Maijima Higari to your schedule. Before opening Maijima's number and adding it to your contact list.

Nemuri definitely seems to have good taste in friends (well you're one of them.) He has certainly caught your attention...in a good way.

_______

Higari groans, while body deflating as his muscles relax somewhat...that was one of the most nerve-racking calls he'd ever made.

God he probably sounded like an idiot. 

Huffing, he looks back at his phone and opens up his chat with Nemuri.

"I called her" he writes before getting up from his workbench with a groan, back popping as he stretches.

His phone buzzes a moment later.

“Maijime it’s like 11:30 at night!” Nemuri’s text reads; he pales and looks at the time on his phone. 

Fuck....now he felt like an ass. He goes to respond, not even sure if he should defend himself or brush it off when another text comes in from a new number. Cocking his head he swipes it open.

“Hello Mr. Maijime, it was a pleasure speaking with you tonight, I have you all booked for Friday at 8pm and I look forward to spending time with you.” he swallows thickly, reading over the message a few more times, taking note of the little hearts on the end.

“This is her job, this is her job, she’s just being nice…”  he mentally berates himself.

Reading over the message one more time he responds.

“Thank you Miss L/N.” he pauses and then adds “Sorry ‘bout calling you so late, lost track of the time.” he hits send before he can chicken out, and shoves his phone in his front pocket; out of sight out of mind 

It’s only a few seconds before he hears the buzz of his phone again and he scrabbles to get it, not even sure why he put it away in the first place.

“Nothing to worry about sweetie, I’ll see you Friday.”

Higari decides he needs a very cold shower and then promptly after needs to put himself to bed...he’d deal with Nemuri tomorrow.

_______

You decide against the silk robe after some debate, donning luxurious Egyptian cotton instead. You'd rather not scare him off or look too presumptuous, after all he might be satisfied with your other talents, though Nemuri had said he could do with a good Fuck. You had of course laughed at her crassness, but you couldn't help but feel a spark of warmth in your belly, it surprised you, it had been awhile since you had, let alone for a potential client. 

You needed to be professional.

Giving yourself a once over in the mirror you found your attire agreeable. Your robe was a little longer than the ones you usually wore for your clients, coming to brush against your knees. But it was your favorite, plush and warm and while a bit promiscuous it was also classic. 

Your hair and makeup was in place and you gazed down to your phone

7:45pm

You hadn't received and cancelation call or text so at this point all you could do was wait.

Padding through your apartment on your way to the lounge you make a few quick mental notes.

Did you have both red and white wine as well as a few stiffer drinks just in case ready? Check.

Bottled water on ice as well and had you tea kettle ready with an assortment of teas just in case? Check and check

A few hors d'oeuvres, nothing too over the top? Check.

You come to settle on your favorite chaise as you finish your little check off; yes you believe you had everything ready…

Your intercom pings, and you quickly get to your feet and shuffle over, pressing the talk button.

"Yes?"

"Miss L/N, there is a Mr. Maijima here to see you." The doorman's voice responds.

"Yes of course please have him come up." 

"Of course ma'am."

To be honest no matter how long you had done this you could never quite figure out what to do with yourself while you wanted for a client to come up to meet you. Nothing ever seemed natural or smooth... it irked you. You wondered what other consorts did, maybe you should ask a few of your colleagues next time you go out for drinks-

There's a firm knock on your door, jarring you out of your thoughts. 

Giving yourself a quick once over you, smooth down your robe and slap on a warm smile before opening the door.

"Mr. Maijima, I'm so glad you came." You move out of the way, opening the door further to allow him in.

"Uh thanks, yeah me too." He lets out a nervous laugh as he shuffles inside. 

He was quite charming. Nemuri had shown you pictures but pictures can never do enough justice to some people. 

He was dressed in a bomber jacket, dark pull over and well worn jeans and boots. He looked comfortable, the perfect amount of dressed down; he looked like himself, not trying to put on airs like some of your clients. 

"Let me take your jacket while you get your shoes." You say warmly and he gingerly shrugs out of the fabric.

"Thanks." He replies as he leans down to untie his boots.

"Nice place you have here." He replies as he looks around from his lowered position. 

"Oh thank you!" You tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear as you look around your place fondly. "The main foyer is a bit much though." You add with a chuckle thinking to the decadence of the building's main entrance.

"Was pretty swanky." He replies nearly finished with his second boot.

"I assure you I'm much more down to earth." You reply and he perks up at that, you eye him curiously.

"Hehe, earth." He laughs and it takes you a moment to remember he's the Excavation hero and you let out a laugh, surprised by his humor.

"I wouldn’t have guessed you'd also be a man with a good taste in jokes." You reply and extend you hand out to him as he tucks his boots away. You have always been a fan of so-called bad jokes.

He seems to like that and puffs up with a smile, slipping his large hand into yours. Oh it was warm and rough; Nemuri did say he was good with his hands. 

"How about we settle in." You say nodding your head towards the lounge.

He nods and swallows thickly, still visibly unsure, but obviously not willing to back down.

You smile at him and gently lead him out of the entryway. 

As you lead him further into your apartment you had taken note that while he was untying his boots he could have very easily looked up your robe, but instead all of his attention was on you, his sharp grey eyes peeking out from a thick fringe of fiery hair. He was watching and listening to you not ogling you, it made your heart warm.

Yes, you had decided that he was certainly a catch.

You lead him into the lounge motioning for him to sit anywhere and he takes his place in one of the plush armchairs across from you chaise. You wish he would have opted for a closer seat but you want him to be comfortable first and foremost.

"Can I get you anything? Wine? Something stronger? Water, tea?" You ask.

"Uh water's fine right now, thanks." He replies and you crack open one of the water bottles and pour it into a crystal tumbler.

You hand it to him and leave the water bottle close to him on the coffee table.

"Thank you L/N." He replies and takes a sip.

"Please call me F/N." You say as you settle on your chaise, he pauses for a moment, mouth full before swallowing

"F/N…" he parrots, voice surprisingly gravelly despite the water he just drank.

You smile and nod your head.

He fiddles with the empty glass in his hands before looking up at you with genuineness; your heart flutters and you’re once again surprised by your feelings.

"Call me Higari."

_______

Higari slowly begins to relax as you talk, his posture loosening and his voice becoming less tense and formal. When he finally laughs fully at one of your jokes, you feel warmth wash over you in a pleasant wave of contentment. 

Despite his obvious relaxation you can’t help but notice he shifts every so often, adjusting his back or subtly rolling his neck. Small ques that make you realize that he wasn't only mentally stressed but physically as well. 

"Higari." You catch his attention as he excitedly tells you about a project he's working on. "Sorry to interrupt but is your back bothering you?" You ask softy and he blinks at you in surprise.

"Oh sorry, that noticeable?" He chuckles. "'S probably from hunching over a workbench all day." He's trying to wave it off, not make you worry.

"Would you mind if I used my quirk on you?" You ask gently, not wanting him to feel pressured. 

"Uuhhh, you haven't already?" He looks a bit confused and you can't help but let out a hearty laugh.

"Of course not, I would never use my quirk without your permission." You smile and you watch as his cheeks turn ruddy with blush. "Might I ask what you thought my quirk was doing all this time?"

He leans back a bit huffing softly to himself, trying to control his embarrassment. 

"Make me relax I guess?" He mutters under his breath and you smile fondly, happy that he truly was relaxed around you.

"You’re sweet, while my quirk does help people relax, I wasn't using it on you." You reply sitting up and gently patting the space next to you on the chaise. " could I show you, I'll stop if you don't feel comfortable."

He observes you for a moment, mulling over the idea or trying to pump himself up you're not exactly sure; but then he slowly gets to his feet and walks over to you.

"Never done this before…" he says softly as he looks down at you, trying hard to be open and honest.

It's one of the sweetest things you've ever had happen with a client and you gently take his hands and pull him down to sit next to you.

"That's perfectly alright, whatever you are comfortable with, whatever you want Higari." You say gently and give his hands a reassuring squeeze.

He looks down, his hands are so large in yours; turning them over in his he brushes the metal tips of his thumbs against your palms reverently, and you swoon a little bit. 

"Show me you quirk." 

You feel pride well in your chest.

"I would love to." You smile before adjusting a bit. "Lay down on your stomach, there should be enough room for you to lay down fully." 

He complies, seemingly throwing caution to the wind, but you can see the tremble in his arms as he lowers himself to the plush cushion of the chaise.

"I'm going to sit on your thighs is that alright?" You question.

It takes him a moment to respond and when he does it's a breathy "yes" and you're glad he's facing away from you so he doesn't catch the shiver that runs up your spine at the tone of his voice.

Slowly you crawl up his body, careful to let him feel every move, to let him know your position until you are sitting comfortably on his muscled thighs, your legs tucked on either side of him. He lets out a shaky sigh as you reach out and run your hands from his shoulder blades down to the small of his back.

"My quirk works best with skin to skin contact, you are certainly welcome to leave your shirt on or remove it." You begin your typical overview of your quirk when he moves beneath you suddenly, almost setting you off balance as he reaches behind his head. Fisting the fabric at his back and rucking it up over his head, fluffing up his hair as he does before letting the article of clothing crumple to the floor.

You're too surprised to move from his sudden boldness as he settles back down, neatly crossing his arms beneath his chin. 

After a few moments you manage to pull yourself together and you slowly, gently lay your hands back on his now bare shoulder blades and oh! Beneath your palms he is trembling; now you desperately wanted to sooth his frayed nerves.

"My quirk allows me to admit frequency through my skin, that I can channel into vibrations." You tell him gently as you smooth down his back again, slowly activating your quirk.

He tenses for a moment and then begins to relax into your touch.

"It can help muscle relaxation and promote blood flow." You continue as you knead a knot along his lat. 

"It ah- sounds like your quirk is definitely a benefit." His voice is breathy, almost sighing as he falls further into your touch.

"I like to think so too." You say fondly, you were really starting to enjoy his company and his kindness. "You were talking about one of your inventions earlier when I interrupted, I would very much like to hear more about it." And it was the honest to God truth.

He hums in contentment and from his position on his folded arms you can see a genuine smile grace his lips.

He quickly eases back into his explanation and his ideas as you allow you quirk to sink into his skin while you massage his tense muscles. Honestly you could listen to him talk for hours, even if you didn't quite understand some of it; it was fascinating and his passion and enthusiasm was a pleasant warmth that enveloped you.

Slowly his muscles begin to ease up under your ministrations and his voice begins to get more husky and more lax. You’re not exactly sure when he stopped talking but you suddenly notice the silence and the absence of his pleasant voice.

"F/N?" You blink, gazing up from you hands, to find Higari staring lazily up at you through the fringe of his hair. His stare is hypnotizing

"Yes?" Your voice is breathier than you would have liked.

For a moment he doesn't say anything and then he shifts, starting to roll on his side and you gingerly move to sit beside him, you barely have anytime to take in his sudden change when his large hand comes up, fingers brushing against your jaw tentatively.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks softly and you definitely swoon, you hand coming up to press his touch closer.

"I would like that very much." You hum, your blood singing at the thought of his lips on yours.

Slowly he rises up and you can feel him moving against you and as he does you feel his lower half brush against your hip and the strangest combination of pride and desire fills your chest as you feel the hardness straining against his jeans.

Everything seems to still for a brief moment and then his nose brushes against yours and you suck in a shaking breath as his lips press against yours.

It's like firecrackers, zipping along you skin, you feel your toes curl and you lean into him. He groans against you and slings his arm around your shoulders pressing you to him, your chest flush with his bare one. 

You sigh against him and he takes a moment to adjust, tilting his head, teeth clacking against yours as he slots himself against you.

You feel as though you are made of feathers, your whole body alight as you kiss him back feverishly. It's been awhile since you felt this and you can't get enough.

Letting out a small whine you smooth your hands down his ribs bringing them around to rest on his lower stomach; you feel the muscles jump against your fingertips and then he trembles against you letting out a wonderfully gravelly moan that reverberates in his chest. 

Then he's slowly pulling you back with him, laying back down against the chaise, tugging you on top of him. He pauses moving away to catch his breath, a hand coming up to smooth over your hair. Your breath hitches as you take him in; he's beautiful… his cheeks stained with blush, his grey eyes gazing up at you half lidded and hazy, pupils blown so wide the irises are halos of near silver.

"Can we…? Is this okay?" He asks hesitantly and you have to stop yourself from squealing in delight.

"It's more than okay Higari, I would love to." And you mean every word of it. 

He groans, lips parting to wet them before he cups your face in his hands and pulls you back down into a fiery kiss.

It's almost feral the way you move against each other, palming and smoothing down every inch of skin that you can. He slowly pushes your robe from your shoulders, the belt the only thing keeping it from coming free completely, and he lets out a strangled sound when he realizes you're wearing nothing underneath.

You quickly grab one of his hands and press his large palm to your breast and he quakes beneath you as he begins to knead the soft flesh. You instantly melt into him, moaning and moving against him in your excitement, his metal tipped thumb coming to press against your pebbled nipple. 

He's wonderful beneath you, shedding his shyness as his lips move from yours, coming to place open mouthed kisses against your jaw and neck. 

Your hands continue to roam across the wonderfully compact muscles of his torso, fingers pausing to flick at his nipples before moving to dig into his sides before sliding down to rest on his belt buckle.

You pull away and he lets out a whine as you sit up, gazing down at him, watching as his chest heaves. You wet your lips, thumbing his buckle to get his attention and his gaze darts down to where your hands rest, just above the straining tent in his jeans. Slowly his gaze drags up your body and then…

"Please…" It's breathy and needy, and you can help but let out a small moan as you nod and get to work.

You quickly divest him of both his pants, boxers and socks, leaving him wonderfully naked and needy beneath you, and oh is he a sight to see. 

Taut muscles tensing against soft skin, a smattering of coppery hair on his chest that tapers down his belly to a thatch of curly short hairs framing his perfectly sized cock that now lays dribbling against his stomach.

"Oh Higari, you’re beautiful." You purr, running your hands down his chest.

"Got nothing on you…" he grunts arching into your touch, practically begging you to go lower.

"Such a charmer." You reply with your finger sliding teasingly over his weeping head.

He arches, pale column of his throat on display for you as he lets out a moan.

"Y-you're perfect." He husks and you feel your chest swell with pride.

You pull back for a moment, much to his displeasure, but that quickly changes as he realizes you're removing your robe.

You quickly take the condom out of your pocket before discarding the clothing to the floor in a heap. Laying the rubber next to your calf for easy access. 

Straightening up you perch on his upper thighs and then slowly move your hips.

"Can you feel me Higari?" You hush knowing full well you’re dripping all over him. "Can you feel how wet I am?"

He lets out a needy moan and his hands come to clamp down on your hips as he rolls his hip, cock thrusting up into the cool air of your apartment. 

"Please, please, F/N...please." His words are soft and airy and you absolutely live for them as you roll your hips again, hand smoothing down his aching length.

"Anything you want love." You hush him and grab the condom, he's already so far gone he doesn't even perk up at the sound of the foil tearing.

You need him to pay attention. Tapping his hip bone he slowly comes to focus on you.

"Watch me Higari." You say and you slowly roll the condom onto his straining length.

You want to absolutely pamper him as he makes small little hiccups as you smooth the rubber down him before gently grabbing his base, moving up onto your knees hovering just over him.

"Watch me Higari…" you repeat and he's enraptured as you slowly sink down onto him, bottoming out on him completely in one go.

"Ha-ah!" He arches hands pushing you impossibly closer as he thrusts up into you though there is no more room left to fill.

Oh he's perfect, filling you to the brim, stretching you deliciously as he becomes an unabashed mess beneath you.

You try to move, but his grip is bruising, abdominal muscles tensing as he tries to keep himself in control.

"Higari." You sooth and he looks up at you, lips parted and eyes holding so much adoration it nearly knocks you over.

He lets up his hold after a moment and you lean forward, placing your hands and his chest to steady yourself. You give him an affectionate stare before you rise up, keeping just the tip of him inside before swiftly curling your hips and spearing yourself on his length.

He practically howls and throws his head back, and oh you want to see more of this, want to see him come undone.

You begin a rhythmic deep pace, making sure to swallow him whole on each downward roll of your hips. Higari is already a mess beneath you, now completely out of his shell on full display. In the back of your mind you briefly think he could have been a porn star if he put his mind to it.

He pushes you out of your thoughts as he grips your hips once more and tries to aid you in your movement, you can't help bit smile.

"Relax Higari, this is about you, I'll take care of everything…" you breath and he swallows thickly.

"Wanna help." He slurs "ha! You're so good, soso good." 

"Next time." You're even a bit surprised by how sure there will be a next time and Higari seems to take note of that as well as you watch his gaze unfocus and refocus.

You continue your pace, though your thighs begin to ache, it's too delicious to even think about slowing down; the way your positioned has your clit rubbing against his pubic bone with each roll of your hips.

You can tell he's getting close, the way he trembles and the way he tries to jerk up ever so often out of sync with you. His gaze catches you and for a moment you feel like your drowning. It's then you feel the pad of his thumb press against your clit; you gasp and look down to watch his metal tipped finger swirl around your delicate bundle of nerves, cock disappearing lewdly inside of you with each roll of your hips.

"Gonna, cum, wan' you to cum with me." He husks, bringing your attention back to him and suddenly you're on the cusp, the precipice. 

"Oh, yes, yes...Higari." your head lolls as you allow him to help, his hips thrusting up to meet yours.

And then he's curling, body tensing as he lets out a breathless moan, mouth slack and eyes fluttering closed as he starts to cum. 

That's what pushes you over the edge, his debauched display. And as you tumble over the edge, stars bursting behind your eyes, and toes curling you briefly wished you could feel him pumping you full.

It takes you a moment to come down from your brief jaunt in paradise, sagging against him, panting. You feel his grip on your hip loosen and he brings his other hand to your thigh, thumb coming to sooth over your skin.

You sit in silence as he softens inside of you and you know you should get up and tidy up a bit, but you're basking in the afterglow and you can't find it in you to care that much.

Higari lets out a pleased sigh and he looks completely and utterly satiated and relaxed; it warms your heart.

The next words that come out of your mouth surprise you.

"Stay the night." You whisper almost shyly and it quickly catches his attention.

He cocks his head observing for a moment.

"Do most of your clients stay? I don't want to intrude."  

You honestly are afraid to answer because the answer is no, they don't, and you suddenly feel so raw and exposed it almost scares you.

He must pick up on your nervousness because he gently cups the side of your jaw, brushing some of your sweat damp hair away from your face.

"I'd love to." He says and you feel your heart soar as you nuzzle into his touch.

[neakco]

You're Not Alone Ch. 2

Ao3 Where it began Ch.1 Ch.3 Ch.4

Some Tim, Marinette and Damien interactions. With a bit of Alfred being all-knowing in the background.

Chapter 2

 

Tikki woke them up around 6am in order to deal with a noon akuma over in Paris.

 

“I'm awake, you’re awake.” Marinette declared sleepily as she tossed something at his head.

 

Tim blinked tiredly at the fox necklace in his hand before he remembered what it was an put it on.

 

He watched Marinette merge Tikki and Kaalki and had just called on his own transformation when Alfred showed up with two small shots of espresso. Everything was moving a little like molasses through his brain and he may have proclaimed Alfred a God. Maybe it was Marinette that called him a God. Both? He would figure it out later after the caffeine took effect.

 

They arrived to a city covered in rats. So unless it was some new incompetent akuma, Hawkmoth had gotten Mr. Ramier again.

 

He watched Ladybug use her lucky charm to set up a life size mouse trap game that he hid with illusions. Then Chat and her lured Mr. Rat over. Ten minutes later they were stepping through a portal back into his bedroom.

 

There was a small plate on his dresser with treats for the kwami and he smiled to see them happily snacking. He stretched and turned to Marinette to see if she wanted a proper cup of coffee but she was asleep against the wall. He went over and shook her shoulder. “Come on Bug, Alfred will come get us for breakfast soon.”

 

“Don wanna.” She mumbled as she latched onto him instead of the wall.

 

He smiled and pried himself free. “Sleep then, but don’t blame me when the Gremlin storms in demanding to know where you are.”

 

He watched her eyes open wide, “He would.” She stumbled quickly towards the hall “I'll see you at breakfast. I am going to shower quickly.”

 

Tim followed since his quest for coffee would lead him past her room anyway. “Do you even remember where your room is?”

 

She paused briefly, “I thought I did but now I am doubting.”

 

He spotted a splash of colour where her room should be. “I have a feeling that the Gremlin decided to make it easier for you.”

 

She looked back at him, “What is that supposed to mean?”

 

Tim gestured towards her door. Last night it had been just a normal door, not the canvas it was now.

 

He watched her face as she took in the bright cherry blossoms that had bloomed in paint. Her hand reached out only to hover over them. “This is amazing. They look so real.”

 

“The Gremlin may be a brat, but I will never deny his talent.”

 

“Will Bruce be upset?” her hand traced the air above the flowers.

 

He shrugged, “If it mattered then Alfred would have stopped him from painting it.”

 

She continued to stare in awe so Tim reached around and opened the door for her.

 

“I am extremely comfortable with you but even that comfort does not extend to helping you shower when you aren’t injured.” He deadpanned.

 

She blinked, “What?” then her eyes slowly widened as she snapped out of it. “No no no. I'm good. See you at breakfast.”

 

He laughed as the door closed quickly then continued his search for coffee.

 

Everyone was just finishing their breakfast when Bruce glanced up over his paper. “What are your plans today Miss Dupen-Cheng?”

 

“Tim is going to take me out and spend too much money on me.” She answered with a bright smile.

 

Tim almost snorted his coffee as Bruce just nodded before saying, “That's nice.” As he stood up and left for work.

 

Marinette turned to look at him and Damian, “He didn’t hear a word I said did he?”

 

“Nope.” Tim laughed.

 

Damian glared at him and huffed, “It is not fair that you get out of your responsibilities in order to spend time with DC while I must continue to attend school.”

 

“I don’t mind you coming along if Tim doesn’t.” Marinette smiled, “As long as I don’t take the blame for you skipping.”

 

“You can come.” Tim took a sip of coffee as he waited for Damien to show signs of happiness. “But we are going to get manicures, pedicures, and get our nails painted.”

Damiean frowned as he thought about it. After a few long moments he reached for his bag, “I think I shall have to decline.”

 

“Too embarrassed to get your nails painted?” he teased.

 

“No. I am just not willing to deal with the ignorant comments from my supposed peers if I do.” He stood gracefully, “Perhaps I shall be allowed to join your other activities.”

 

Tim blinked a couple of times to hide his shock. Every time he thought he had the Gremlin all figured out the kid had to go and surprise him.

 

A few moments later Marinette jumped up and raced towards the main doors. “I forgot to compliment him on the painting!”

 

The spa day had been fantastic and now they were relaxing in the study together. Tim was working on some cold cases while Marinette embroidered one of his dress shirts. The quiet was nice.

 

Tim winced as the study door swung open loudly and the Gremlin sat next to Marinette. Of course his own thoughts jinxed him.

 

“I regret not accepting your offer this morning.”

 

Marinette set aside the shirt carefully so as not to ruin her work, “Long day?”

 

“Some females came up with the asinine idea that I am shy.”

 

Tim looked up at that, Damian was painfully blunt. How the hell did they come to that conclusion?

 

“These females then conspired with the rest of my imbecile classmates to break me out of my hypothetical shell.” He paused to take a calming breath. “It did not matter what barbs or words I used since they had convinced themselves that I was just being prickly as a defense mechanism.”

 

Marinette looked passed Damian to give him a pleading look. He nodded and pulled up the spa's website with only a small internal sigh.

 

She smiled wide at the Gremlin, “Let’s go now then.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“I am thinking black with gold detailing.” Tim smiled as Marinette grabbed Damian's hand and started pulling him out of the room. “Or you could go with a bold cheetah print, maybe in green to match your eyes.”

 

“I demand to know where you are taking me DC?”

 

She stopped long enough for Damian to almost free his wrist without hurting her before she was dragging him again. “To get you nails done of course.”

 

Tim chuckled as she continued to spout off different ideas.

 

“Drake.” To his amusement the Gremlin almost sounded pleading.

 

“Don’t worry Little D, I booked us an appointment for manicures. You are the only one who is getting his nails done though.” He smirked and showed off his pink and grey nails with little coffee cups painted on his thumbs.

 

Damian’s eyes trailed to the hands gripping his wrist and Tim watched surprise as he registered the pattern. Marinette had gotten hers green and pink with cherry blossoms to match the scene painted on her door. He knew the Gremlin would never admit it, but the slight blush showed that he was flattered.

 

“Were going to the zoo on Wednesday.” Tim said to stop Damian from escaping. “I already told the school that you won’t be going in.”

 

The Gremlin stopped resisting and looked back at him in surprise even as Marinette started to pull him into the vehicle Alfred somehow had waiting.

 

“Thursday is a day trip to the park for inspiration and sketching or photography and Friday is a surprise for Marinette but you are still invited. The school believes you are needed as a translator for a visiting guest.”

 

Damien glared as he climbed into the car, “Why? What are you planning?”

 

Marinette finally let go of his wrist now that they were secure in the vehicle. “Because I asked. I wanted to thank you for flying the helicopter to come and get me. Also for the beautiful painting on my door.”

 

“Oh.” Tim had never seen his younger brother’s glare disappear so quickly before. “I shall accept your invites.”

 

Tim wondered if Damian may even smile when they told him that the kwami wanted to go on patrol with them tonight.

No beta and written on mobile. I hope you enjoyed it even half as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Taglist: @novemberandmay @laurcad123

[djpurple3]

I Just Keep Losing My Beat - Chapter 21

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20

heyyyy it’s been a while hasn’t it? i sometimes forget i write more of my stories than i post. To start with, big shout out to @nerd-in-space​ today because back in chapter 16 they pointed out what illnesses Remus would actually have based on what I wrote, and I decided to actually give him real world repercussions.

So Big Pointing Out Here - there’s lots of sickness talk, so if that is a squick/trigger im so sorry.

Relationships: Platonic Creativitwins. Eventual Intrulogical. Do NOT tag as r*mr*m if u value ur molars.

Characters: Remus Sanders; Roman Sanders; kid!Deceit (called William) Sanders; kid!Virgil Sanders; OCs; Logan Sanders; kid!Patton Sanders; teen!Sleep/Remy (nb!Remy), Emile Picani.

Genre: Human AU, Single Dad AU, Slowburn, hurt/comfort, both angst & fluff

Chapter’s Wordcount: 1,266 words [under the cut] short one today lmao

Chapter Warnings: Direct discussion of Sickness/Illnesses, Pneumonia in particular, Remus goes to the doctors’, Anxiety, Allusions to/Mentions of Past Abuse, i think that’s most of it.

Chapter 21/?

Chapter 21 *pumpkin hill theme*

The week ticked by slowly. It was nice to have time off work, but it went so slow because it was hitting Remus in waves with how sick he was. Roman spent Wednesday and Thursday night arguing with him about how Remus should go see a doctor, before Remus finally caved, booking an appointment Friday afternoon. Roman, it turned out, didn’t work Fridays, so he took him in personally, bringing Remy over for the afternoon to watch the kids, seeing as William was home still.

Remy got there as Tan was packing up her gear, complimenting William’s work. They froze in the doorway, staring in surprise as Tan turned around. 

Remus glanced between the two of them in alarm. He wasn’t expecting this reaction. He couldn’t remember what Tan had said before, whether they were friends or not? Did he have to break up a fight? He wasn’t prepared for this.

“Oh, my god!” Remy cried, tossing their bag aside and crossing the room with long strides. “Gurl, it’s been too long!” “Remyyyyy!” Tan whooped, rushing over and throwing their arms around the older teen. Remus gave a snort of relief as Remy all but lifted Tan off the ground in a huge hug. They started laughing and talking loudly, Remy putting them down and fumbling for their bag. Roman sidled up to Remus, and tapped at his watch with a soft clearing of his throat.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Remus huffed. “We gotta go, kids.” “Ah,” Tan said in polite apology, withdrawing their arms and going back to gather the last of her stuff. Roman and Remus exchanged a look, especially as Remy deflated a little, coming to a wordless agreement over a single nod.

“Hey, Tan?” Remus called, even as Roman started to usher him towards the door. “Since you’re off-duty, you can do whatever you like now, right? The kids love you, and a friend of Remy’s is welcome in my home. Stick around, kid. If you want.” Roman gave a thumbs up as he picked up their coats from where Remus had left them and threw Remus’ at him, clocking him in the face with the old leather, causing the young audience to laugh. “You mean it?” Tan asked, eyes shining and a smile creeping across her face. “Yep!” Remus said. “Yes,” Roman agreed. “Keep an eye on them all, Remy. I got a bigger kid to look after. C’mon, Re, we’re going to be late.” “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Remus huffed as he pulled his coat on, following his brother out the door. “Snacks are in the cupboard! Behave!”

And with that, Roman closed the door firmly behind them and ushered Remus into the car before he got any other ideas.

---

Roman had agreed to wait in the waiting room as Remus went in. Remus always felt anxious at the doctors. He knew his GP was lovely. He knew this was safe. But his past appointments had always been infrequent and fairly secretive, so the moment he walked in the door, it felt like his time limit was ticking down. But it was okay. He was here, he was supposed to be here, he was allowed to be here. That was the mantra he was turning over and over in his head as he sat down. 

Explaining what had happened to his doctor was kind of hard. It wasn’t even, like… It wasn’t a lie, y’know? But it did feel like he was fishing for pity points. It’s not for pity, it’s for health, he told himself firmly in a voice that sounded awfully like Roman’s. Fortunately, she was very patient with him, she always was, prompting him when his voice gave out, and soon she had enough information.

“Alright,” she hummed, typing a few things into her computer and clicking through a few things before turning back to Remus. “I want to listen to your lungs, if that’s alright.” “Sure thing, Doc,” he nodded. “Do you… uh, do I take my shirt off, or?” “We can just lift it,” she smiled. “Though I suppose i can’t stop you from taking it off if you wish.”

The press of the stethoscope was a little jarring. Remus stared at the wall as he breathed deeply, as instructed, before turning and burying his head in his elbow to cough. He didn’t miss how the doctor winced at how chesty that cough sounded, and she turned back to add some more information to his file.

She moved on to taking a few other tests, involving thermometers and other exciting equipment, writing some more, clicking through some more things, before eventually turning back in her spinny chair to face Remus.

“Alright,” she said seriously. “I can confidently say that you have pneumonia.” Remus blinked. “What?” “Pneumonia,” the doctor repeated. “You have it.”

Remus blinked at her a bit more. “Pneumonia,” he echoed.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “I’m writing you a script for antibiotics, and I’d like to do a blood test, because there are some other things that don’t exactly line up with pneumonia, and I’d rather be safe than sorry.” “Like what?” Remus asked, alarmed. “Well, the fainting,” she pointed out. “It could be a handful of things. Sleep deprivation, dehydration, lack of oxygen in the brain, so on.” “Wait,” Remus said with a laugh that was creeping too high. “One of those is not like the other.”

The doctor shook her head. “I will contact you as soon as I can,” she told him, turning back to her computer and beginning to print things out. “If it’s serious, you will need to go to hospital.” Remus looked at the floor, tears beginning to bead in his eyes. This wasn’t good. He… they couldn’t afford that.

“But for now,” she continued, pulling things off the little printer beside her and scrawling the necessary things on them, signing them, “take these antibiotics, and get some regular, good, sleep, and drink more water. I remember your hydration habits well, Remus.” Remus rubbed the back of his neck with a little laugh.

“Sleep is a wonderful healer,” she said, finally turning back to him and handing the papers over with a reassuring smile. “You’ll be okay, Remus. I promise you that. Take this to the pharmacy and pick your prescription up as soon as you can, okay? And take a week off work.” “I’ve already had a week off work,” Remus said, alarmed. “Take another,” she declared. “Doctor’s orders.”

She quickly turned and printed out another note, before signing it.

“If you push yourself, you’ll damage yourself, and then you’ll never go back to work,” she said seriously, staring Remus down as she put the doctors’ note directly into his hand. “And that’s not a threat, Remus. I want you back on your feet as quickly as you do. But you aren’t helping yourself if you don’t rest. Did you come alone?” “No,” he said with a shiver. “My brother brought me in. He’s in the waiting room.” “Great,” she said, standing with a clap of her hands. “Let’s go.”

She walked Remus to the front desk, and as Remus paid for the appointment, she crossed the room to Roman and handed him something. Remus wandered over. “What’s this?” “It’s a list of instructions,” the doctor said sternly, though there was still a smile in her eyes. “I know it’s safer for you now, Remus. So make the most of it, okay?” Before Remus could really reply, she turned and headed back to her office, waving goodbye.

--- --- ---

lmao yea cool doctor character lady who doesn’t have a name i got this far and i just realised i forgot to name her lmao!!  but yeah <3 have a good one folks.

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[pengychan]

[Good Omens] Winging It - Isaiah 40:31

Summary: Shockingly, attempting to destroy an angel without consulting God first comes with consequences. There is more than one way to fall, and a thousand more ways to inconvenience an angel and a demon who just wanted to be left in peace. Characters: Gabriel, Crowley, Aziraphale, Beelzebub, Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon Rating: T  

Prologue and all chapters are tagged as ‘winging it’ on my blog.

A/N: well, shit hits the fan and the end is near.

***

As the boy who was most assuredly Not The Antichrist - but who had nonetheless been their charge for about the first eleven years of his life - walked towards the front door of the bookshop in Soho, entirely unaware of being stalked by a man with a pocket knife, Aziraphale stood in the bedroom of a lovely cottage in the South Downs, not far from the Devil’s Dyke.

He knew it was rather rude, being roughly seventy-five miles away from the place where you happen to have an appointment in about five minutes’ time, but surely it was not too much of an issue, given that they would be right back in the bookshop by crossing the threshold of a rather miraculous door they had installed between the two places. And besides, Crowley had really wanted to show him something. 

That something being a luxurious, huge and hugely gaudy canopy bed with gold-plated columns and red velvet drapes that wouldn’t have looked too out of place in Versailles, before revolutionaries took most of its contents to an uncertain fate. As a piece of furniture still occasionally turned up in flea markets, Aziraphale wouldn’t put it beyond the realm of possibilities.

Said bed now occupied the greater part of the bedroom that Crowley had insisted they ought to have in the cottage, against Aziraphale’s suggestion to turn it into another room for his books. 

“We already have the loft for those, and the bookshop on the other side of the door,” he’d pointed out. “We need a bedroom.”

Aziraphale, who had actually last slept sometime in the nineteenth century and solely out of boredom while watching an especially poor performance of Troilus and Cressida - in itself far from Shakespeare’s best work, and the lead actor’s lisp had done it no favors - had been slightly taken aback. “But, my dear, we don’t need sleep,” he’d said, getting a snort out of Crowley. 

“We don’t need to eat either. So what?”

Aziraphale had to concede he had a point, although he didn’t quite see the allure of laying in a semi-comatose state for several hours while hallucinating the same way he saw the allure of a slice of red velvet cake, and agreed that the cottage would indeed have a bedroom. It was only fair considering the space he had for his books, so that was a compromise he did not regret. 

Telling Crowley he was welcome to choose whatever bed he liked himself, however, was something Aziraphale did regret. He knew that Crowley’s taste when it came to furniture ranged from dreadfully minimalistic to unbearably garish, but this - the golden columns, the red heavy velvet - was… a little too much. 

“Well, what do you think?” Crowley was asking, looking as proud of himself as he had after moving that golden monstrosity he called a throne right next to Aziraphale’s old trusty armchair in the loft, entirely ignoring the way Aziraphale’s right eyebrow had twitched. 

This time, it was the left eyebrow to twitch. 

“Well, it is-- rather…” Aziraphale raked his brain for a polite way to put it. “Eye-catching.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Crowley grinned, even prouder. Aziraphale suspected his euphemism had been a little too subtle. “I remembered what you said when I came to save your butt in France.”

“... That I wanted crêpes?”

“That you had standards. French royalty standards.”

“Well, it was not quite royalty level, more along the lines of a noble--”

“This beauty comes straight from Versailles.”

Ah, of course. Of course it did. 

“Or, well, not so straight. It went around across Europe quite a bit. But here it is, as you see.”

“Yes. I… I do see.” Aziraphale managed a smile. No harm done, he thought - he didn’t have a habit to sleep as Crowley did, so he would hardly ever need to be in that room at all. He would just entirely forget about that bed. Out of sight, out of mind. 

“The mattress is new, clearly. You’ll like it. Real plush.”

Aziraphale blinked. “That sounds nice, but I am not in the habit of sleeping.”

“You should try. Nothing better than some time spent in a semi-comatose state while vividly hallucinating.”

A chuckle. “You’re not making it sound very alluring.”

“Ah, I should up my temptation game. I’m out of practice. When was the last time I tempted you into anything?”

“This morning, actually, you--”

The chiming of the grandfather clock downstairs - a very tasteful eighteenth century clock Aziraphale had long debated whether to move in the cottage or keep in the bookshop - cut him off, and reminded him of… well, of the time. 

“I believe Warlock should arrive any moment now - we should head back,” he said, and they did. It looked like the boy might get there before Gabriel popped in to return the book, and if that turned out to be the case… well, Aziraphale really hoped he had enough sense to put the book in a bag or something like it. If not, they may need to have a few words.

There were things an eleven-year-old boy really didn’t need to see.

***

“Ugh, c’mon, they knew I was coming…” Warlock Dowling huffed, taking a couple of steps away from the door of the bookshop which had stayed closed, no matter how hard he knocked. He glanced at the sign in the window; it made just as little sense as it did the first time he read it. 

I open the shop on most weekdays about 9:30 or perhaps 10am. While occasionally I open the shop as early as 8, I have been known not to open until 1, except on Tuesday. I tend to close about 3:30pm, or earlier if something needs tending to. However, I might occasionally keep the shop open until 8 or 9 at night, you never know when you might need some light reading. On days that I am not in, the shop will remain closed. On weekends, I will open the shop during normal hours unless I am elsewhere. Bank holidays will be treated in the usual fashion, with early closing on Wednesdays, or sometimes Fridays. (For Sundays see Tuesdays). A.Z. Fell, Bookseller

Warlock briefly wondered who A. Z. Fell was, really - the founder? A co-owner? It definitely was not Brother Francis’ name, but he had claimed to be the owner, which was a leap from working as a gardener but not a claim Warlock had any reason to doubt. Brother Francis did not lie, after all. He hated lies and got really cross with him whenever he caught him lying, usually after Nanny-- after Crowley suggested he did.

“Pair of weirdos. Always been,” Warlock muttered, but it wasn’t really a complaint; they were a fun pair of weirdos to grow up around, or else he wouldn’t have tracked them down in London. After checking through the window to see if anyone was in, and seeing, no one, Warlock reached in his pocket for his phone and began looking for Crowley’s number. 

Focused as he was on the screen, he failed to notice the man approaching with a hand in his pocket, eyes fixed on him and pupils blown so wide his eyes looked entirely black. On the opposite side of the road Hastur, Duke of Hell, retreated from the mortal’s mind with a smirk and prepared to enjoy the scene with eyes just as black.

***

“... So no, I really doubt the London Dungeon holds prisoners anymore, but it would be an interesting thing to--”

“Silence,” Beelzebub spoke suddenly, stopping abruptly in their tracks and causing Gabriel to almost bump into them and drop the book, something for which Aziraphale would probably be very, very cross with him. He frowned. 

“It’s not my fault that they have stopped using the dungeons, if that’s such an issue I suppose we could change plans and--”

“Something’s wrong.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t you sense-- ah. No, you can’t anymore,” Beelzebub muttered, and looked around with a scowl. “A demon is at work. It was my order that no one was to approach the traitors.”

Gabriel blinked. “Maybe it’s Crowley--”

“It’s not,” Beelzebub all but snarled, staring at someone some distance away. Further down the pavement stood a man that looked… wrong, for the lack of a better word; something not human who made a passingly decent job at masquerading as human, but not quite good enough. Gabriel may not be able to sense demonic or angelic presences anymore, but he could see as much.

“Hastur,” Beelzebub scoffed. 

Ah, Gabriel was vaguely familiar with the name - Hastur, Duke of Hell. Not someone he’d be pleased to meet anywhere in general, but seeing him there was especially worrying. He recalled Michael mentioning that out of all demons, he held a particular grudge against Crowley. Was that grudge really so great that he would ignore a direct order from Beelzebub to find Crowley in Soho and… and do what, exactly? “What is he doing here?”

“I’m about to find out. Wait here,” Beelzebub muttered, and walked - no, marched - directly towards the demon. “Hastur, Duke of Hell. What in Heaven are you doing here?”

Their voice caused the demon to recoil and turn his attention away from… whatever they had been staring at on the other side of the road. He was already deathly pale, but he seemed to grow just a tad paler as his gaze rested on a decidedly annoyed Prince of Hell planting themselves before him, arms crossed and clearly looking for a very good explanation why he would defy a direct order not to be anywhere near the traitorous demon that holy water could not destroy.

As he stammered some sort of reply, Gabriel let his gaze wander across the street. A man was walking towards the bookshop coming from the opposite direction, and he was… wait. Wait, he looked familiar - Gabriel had seen him before, a few months earlier, near the church where Daniel’s funeral service had just been held. He’d given him his coat because it was raining and talked briefly with him, and he had found it funny because his name was… his name…

“Noah!” Gabriel called out with a smile, walking towards him. “How are you doing? How’s your--” 

The next word - dog? - died on his lips when he got to look, to really look, at Noah’s eyes. They looked no more human than those of the Duke of Hell currently getting a tongue-lashing only a few steps away, and they were fixed dead ahead of him as he kept walking, giving no sign of having heard or seen him. Walking towards the bookshop… and towards a boy fumbling with his phone right in front of it, back turned to them all.  Something was off. Something was wrong. 

A demon is at work, Beelzebub had said. Gabriel opened his mouth to cry out, to demand that Hastur, Duke of Hell, released that mortal from whatever hold he had on him - but before he could force out a single word, Noah’s hand came out of his pocket and something gleamed in the sunlight. 

There was no time to cry out. No time for words, no time to think, no time to demand action from anyone other than himself. Gabriel knew there was one thing he ought to do now, one thing only. Ever since finding himself without plan or purpose, choices had not always come easy to him - the terror of choosing wrong often paralyzing him. But this one came with no effort: it was no choice at all. As a dark shadow fell on a boy he didn’t even know, Gabriel dropped the book he had come to return, and ran. 

“NOAH! STOP!”

Noah did not turn, but the boy did. He lifted his gaze from his phone to glance over at Gabriel, clearly confused - then his confusion turned into alarm when Gabriel suddenly grabbed his arm and yanked him away. 

“Hey! The hell?” the boy yelled, just as the knife descended on the spot he’d been standing only an instant before, narrowly missing the back of his neck. He tried to pull away from Gabriel’s grip, turning to call out for someone to get that madman off him  - and froze when he finally saw the man standing behind him, eyes all black and lips pulled back in a snarl, swinging something at him.

Somewhere in his brain, he registered it was a knife. He tried once again to scream - mom, he thought, but if he’d managed to force out his voice he probably would have said something more along the lines of ‘shit’. Gabriel, from his part, didn’t try to speak again; he could tell Noah was beyond hearing him. 

So he yanked the boy back once again, and threw himself between him and Noah. The result was, all things considered, extremely predictable.

Four and a half inches of steel buried themselves into Gabriel’s gut with a wet sound that went almost entirely unheard. There was a sense of heat, the pressure of a handle against his flesh and, at first, no pain. Gabriel found himself staring straight into pitch-black eyes for a moment before the pupils shrank to a normal size again, revealing the human eyes, light blue and filled with confusion. Somewhere behind Gabriel, the boy screamed and turned to bang on the door of Aziraphale’s bookshop. 

People around them stopped walking to turn, not quite having caught up what was going on but slowly getting there. On the other side of the road, a panicked Duke of Hell disappeared in a cloud of smoke as soon as the Lord of the Flies turned to see what the commotion was about. 

Gabriel tried to speak, to call out for Beelzebub - don’t hurt him, he didn’t know what he was doing - but a gurgling sound was all that left him, and something dripped down his chin. 

“What…?” Noah muttered, blinking at him, and looked down. “Oh-- oh God, oh Jesus Christ, oh shit-- !” he cried out, voice high and panicked, and staggered back with the knife still in hand, dislodging from Gabriel’s flesh with another wet sound.

Blood came rushing forth, coldness set in, and so did pain. Gabriel’s knees folded, and he hit the ground just as the bloodied knife did. Noah stepped back again, shaking like a newborn calf. 

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry-- someone call an ambulance, I’m sorry, oh God…!”

Don’t bother calling out for God. They don’t answer. Not for me.

“Gabriel!” Beelzebub’s voice filled his ears, drowning out all the rest. There was a hand on the back of his head, lifting it, and he opened his eyes again to see them looking down at him, wide-eyed and scared in a way he had never seen them.

And Gabriel was scared, too, filled to the brim with the most primal, human terror - the most ancient sort of despair known to man. He suddenly knew why even Yeshua had faltered that night in the Garden of Gethsemane, pleading to escape the fate before him and avoid what he knew was unavoidable.

I don’t want to die.

He tried to speak, choking on his own blood. Somewhere behind him, a heavy door was thrown open and Aziraphale’s voice reached him as though from miles away. 

“Warlock! My boy, what is-- oh. Oh dear, what…?”

“What the Heaven is going on?” Crowley’s voice was a couple octaves higher than usual, and suddenly there was silence, time itself stilled; the crowd all around them, Noah, even a bird flying past right above them remained fixed in time like so many statues. The boy was talking frantically to Crowley and Aziraphale, but Gabriel was unable to pay his words any mind. His gaze remained fixed on Beelzebub, and on Beelzebub only. 

“Heal me,” he choked out. He felt cold all over, even with the wound itself throbbing in heat and pain the way the wounds on his back had, the day his wings were torn off. “Please.”

“Hastur will pay for this, he-- I-- of course, you idiot, be still--” their hand hovered above the blood-soaked shirt, and suddenly they hesitated. Their gaze found Gabriel’s, and held it. “... Sacrifice,” the Prince of Hell murmured.

“What…?”

“You sacrificed your life for another. That’s it. It’s your ticket back home, Gabriel.”

Home. Back in Heaven, where he belonged. Not quite in his old position - a mortal soul - but still, home. Except that… except that if he returned there as a mere mortal soul...

“No,” Gabriel wheezed. “No. I can’t. I-- would never-- be able to leave it-- again.”

“You never wished to leave it in the first pla--”

“Never see you-- again--” Gabriel coughed, and let out a weak groan at the excruciating pain. He could taste blood in his mouth, feel it down his throat, pooling down on the pavement around him; he felt his strength draining away with it. The back of Beelzebub’s free hand wiped some of it off his chin; the other still cupped the back of his head.

“... You will die either way in the end. You do not wish to reside in Hell and I will not force you.” Their plan of leaving behind Hell for good seemed to be far from their mind now. “This may be--” the Prince of Hell paused, and let out a shaky breath. “This may be your best chance, Gabriel.”

“No. Not now. Not yet,” Gabriel managed a smile. His vision was growing blurry. “I will take… all the time I can get. With you.” However little it may be. Such short life spans, but I will make it worth it. I must. I only get one shot. “So don’t-- let me die-- yet.”

For a moment Beelzebub only stared, their hand hovering above his wound. They swallowed, and opened their mouth to say something - only that someone else spoke first. Aziraphale.

“Oh, oh dear, what a dreadful mess-- Gabriel? It’s all right, hold on, I will heal you--”

“Keep away from him!” Beelzebub buzzed furiously, shooting a glare at Aziraphale, at Crowley, at the boy who was currently glued to Crowley’s side, staring with wide eyes at the scene before him and at the crowd frozen in time. The angel reared back, but did not give up. 

“I mean to help him. Heal him.”

“I can heal him myself!” the Prince of Hell snapped, and pressed their hand on the bleeding wound. Pain shot up Gabriel’s body and he ground his teeth, waiting for relief, for healing, for the end of suffering… but none of it came. 

Beelzebub pulled away a now bloodied hand, taken aback, struggling to comprehend what they were seeing. “It’s… it isn’t working. It won’t heal.”

Gabriel closed his eyes, despair sinking in his chest.

No. It cannot be. Not now, God, please. Don’t do this to me. Don’t let me die now that I have learned to live. Don’t take them from me again.

“... May I try, Lord Beelzebub?” Aziraphale spoke again, ever respectful, but the hesitation in his voice made it plain that he didn’t think they could succeed where Beelzebub had failed. Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, and felt something trickling down his temples. 

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why--

GABRIEL.

That voice, in the back of his mind and yet everywhere. Gabriel hadn’t heard it in such a long, long time, but hadn't forgotten it. His chest shuddered in a gasp, and he tried to speak again, to respond to the call - whether to cry, to beg, to curse he didn’t know. Before he could force out a single sound, another voice rose. Very familiar and decidedly concerned.

“Uuh, angel? Any idea what that is?”

“What-- oh. That might be our cue to move out of the way. Move away-- you too, Warlock, move back, my boy…”

What…?

Gabriel opened his eyes and looked up at the sky. Precisely above him, the blue of it was gone; clouds of blinding white had gathered in a circle, and within that circle was only light. The air around him seemed to crackle, and he knew what that meant. Gabriel tried to speak, to warn Beelzebub, but he could only cough up another mouthful of blood. On his tongue, he could now taste something else.

Ozone. 

From a distance, once again came Aziraphale’s voice. “Lord Beelzebub, you ought to let go and--”

“No.” Beelzebub’s grip on Gabriel tightened, vicious and desperate at the same time. The air crackled, the clouds swirled, and Gabriel’s vision began to fade. His hand weakly gripped their jacket, but he was unable to do anything else. Beelzebub’s face was but a blur, but ah, their grip was unyielding. His eyes slipped shut, his head rolled against their chest. 

“I refuse to let go. God cannot tell me what to do and neither can you.”

Don’t take them from me again. Please, please, please--

“Brother Francis, what the hell--”

“We’ll explain later, my boy - step back now, cover your eyes - don’t look, Crowley, make sure he doesn’t look--”

The crack of thunder covered his next words, filling the world, drowning out all noise. Gabriel felt the grip around him tightening, heard Beelzebub choke out something that sounded a lot like ‘you idiot’, and he opened his eyes. 

And then there was only light.

***

In the instant before lighting struck, three things happened in quick succession.

First, Crowley pulled Warlock’s face to his chest to make sure he wouldn’t be blinded as many mortals had been before Heaven learned to somewhat tone it down; second, Crowley turned his back to the scene to avoid looking himself, and shield the boy while he was at it. 

And third, Aziraphale’s wings unfolded to shield them both.

There was no heat, which was rather typical of Heavenly things: light without warmth, utterly unlike the darkness and heat - humid heat rather than raging flames, but all the more uncomfortable - that Aziraphale had experienced in his first, and hopefully only, visit to Hell.

Shielded by Aziraphale’s wings, Crowley kept his eyes tightly shut behind his glasses and Warlock’s face pressed against his shirt for several more moments after the last echo of the deafening thunder faded. 

“Is it safe to turn, angel?” he asked, while Warlock kept muttering against his shirt a litany of words that mostly sounded like ‘what’, ‘the’ and ‘fuck’, in the order. 

This time Aziraphale didn’t bother to make a mental note of talking with the boy about his language. Aside from being relieved the boy had not been stabbed, turned into salt, incinerated, blinded or deprived of his sanity, Aziraphale suspected they would have different, more pressing matters to discuss very shortly. “I’ll check. Don’t look yet,” he replied, and finally looked back.

The crowd of mortals was still around them, frozen in time, unscathed and unaware. The clouds were gone, quick as they had come - but there was a sphere of light before him, crackling with electricity where Beelzebub and Gabriel had been until moments earlier. In that light, there was… something. At first Aziraphale couldn’t make it out, but as he stepped closer and the light began to dull, he could see something all right. 

And that something was a pair of folded wings. 

At first, Aziraphale thought he must be looking at the wings of a demon and wondered how Beelzebub could survive the full might of the Lord; then, as the light pulsed and faded little by little, he realized that was not it. The wings were not the pure white of angels, but neither were they midnight black. Deep brown with a golden sheen, mottled with darker brown, black, specks of white. The wings of an eagle.  

And they did not belong to Beelzebub.

One last crackle of pure energy, and the pulsing light dissolved. Aziraphale worked his jaw a moment, mouth dry, before he finally called out.

“... Gabriel?”

The wings shifted, and slowly parted. Gabriel was kneeling on the pavement, eyes blinking open as though he struggled to comprehend what was happening. In his arms, held tightly against his chest, was the Prince of Hell; their eyes were screwed shut as though they were waiting to be smited still, but they were in one piece - shielded from the full might of God by the Archangel Gabriel himself, who seemed to be just now beginning to process precisely what had transpired. 

“What…?” he muttered, and the sound of his voice caused Beelzebub’s eyes to snap open. They pulled back from his chest, on their knees themselves, and looked up at Gabriel - and at the wings spread behind him. They opened their mouth to say something, closed it, opened it again. 

“You have wings again,” they finally said. “But they don’t look like--”

Gabriel didn’t so much turn to look at them. “You are all right,” he muttered, and cupped their cheek with a long breath, smiling widely. “Thank-- whoever there is to thank, you’re--”

Beelzebub’s hand grasped the collar of Gabriel’s shirt before he could say another word, and yanked his head down in a sudden kiss. It was definitely not something Aziraphale had expected to happen and neither had Gabriel, by the looks of it, but he seemed… far from displeased. Actually he leaned into it rather enthusiastically, arms slipping around the Lord of the Flies’ waist. 

Aziraphale stepped back, feeling just a touch awkward.

“Angel, is it safe to look or no--” Crowley finally spoke up, and turned without waiting for an answer. A rather unwise move, that. His gaze fell on the scene before him, and he let out a groan. “Uuuugh! No it’s not safe, not it’s not, for Satan’s sake it’s seared in my brain now, why didn’t you warn...”

He turned again and took a few steps away, rubbing his eyes beneath the glasses. Warlock, on the other hand, remained exactly where he was - eyes shifting slowly between Gabriel’s brand new wings and Aziraphale’s own, still in full display.

“... Brother Francis, I don’t mean to be rude or anything,” he finally said. “But what, pray tell, the fuck.”

“Well…” Aziraphale hesitated a moment, knowing he couldn’t count on Crowley stepping in for an explanation for at least another ten minutes, busy as he was trying to jab his eyes out of their sockets. In the end, he said nothing and turned to survey the scene.

Time stood still and so did every single living being in sight, including the man who had wielded the knife, a horrified expression frozen on his face. Gabriel and Beelzebub didn’t seem to plan on letting their mouths part ways anytime soon, still on the very spot where Gabriel had nearly bled out to death minutes earlier. A few steps away, in the middle of the road, was Aziraphale’s antique pornography book. 

With a sigh, Aziraphale went to pick it up and tucked it under his arm, making sure to hide the cover from Warlock’s sight. 

“I believe,” he finally spoke, “that we all could use a nice cup of tea right about now.”

***

"But those who hope in the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall soar on wings like eagles; they shall run and not grow weary, they shall walk and not be faint." -- Isaiah 40:31

***

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[worldwidebt7]

Hell(L)ing || 01

§ — Pairing: Chimera!Taehyung x Empath!Reader (with mentions of Reader x Other Members)

§ — Genre: SciFi AU, fluff, angst, smut, horror

§ — Wordcount: 3,160

§ — Rating: M

§ — Warnings: Seokjin’s ego...? This chapter is as clean as Jungkookie’s vocals.

§ — A/N: So, this was originally supposed to be for @bang-tan-bitches​ “Monster Mash Challenge,” but I’ve clearly failed to make deadline for that… There’s just so much more to this story than I had originally anticipated, I even decided to make it multi-chapter! I’ve been in such a writing mood the last couple of weeks. I got like this last year too around this time, which is how this blog even got started. I know you guys are waiting on the next chapter of “Black or White,” but I’ve got a couple commissions I need to get out and I really need to get some of this writing itch out of my system. I know I’m not the best writer, but I hope you enjoy it none-the-less! The first couple of chapters are kind of slow, but I’m trying to build suspense, so bear with me!

Summary: You moved out into the wilderness to live a calm, peaceful life. Your abilities made it impossible to live in crowded places, so even if you wanted to you couldn’t return. But when something happens outside the realm of even your normalcy, you start to think that maybe having everyone else’s emotions bearing down on you isn’t such a bad alternative to being trapped with your own.

The lake house was your sanctuary.

The little house stood within walking distance of the largest lake near your city, and while it was a man-made lake, nothing about the surrounding woodlands was artificial in anyway. Tall trees and greenery stretched as far as the eye could see to the south, east, and west of your home. The north, however, was reserved for the brilliant view of the lake.

From the large wall of windows in your modest A-frame style cottage, each morning you watched the sun flood light over the waters from the east, warming you as you sat in your plush, circular lounge chair with your morning coffee. Each night, the moon sprinkled diamonds across its surface, sending you to sleep with stars in your dreams. Yes, this place was ideal for you in every way— quiet, surrounded by the calm of nature, and, most importantly, secluded. You couldn’t be near people, not because you particularly disliked others of your species, but because it physically hurt you to be among them in large throngs. Some would ask why; why push others away, why live by yourself in the middle of the woods?

It was because you were an empath; a decidedly difficult thing to live with from your experience.

It hadn’t always been as unbearable as it has in your recent years— when you were younger you embraced your gift, loved it even. You enjoyed how special it made you feel and you wanted to share it with others. So much so, that you graduated college and opened up what some would call a ‘spiritual business.’ And, at first, it was wonderful. You were able to help and entertain people with something that came so naturally to you, and many sought you out almost like a therapist. Of course, you were far more successful giving them insights to themselves, as you could read their emotions as clearly as watching television.

Well, of course it wasn’t as simple as that— it was more like feeling an electrical current through your body that was connected to a person’s emotions, and each emotion was laced with a color that would flash across your eyes like pulse. It was honing in on other’s emotions that caused you to shut yourself away as you did. The more you did it, the stronger your gift had become and the more in tune you became with others’ emotional states. When you first began, you would have to hug a person or hold their hand in order to access your ability. Soon, anyone within close vicinity of you was enough to get a read on them.

Now, it was anyone within nearly a 500-foot radius of you would bombard you with their happiness, sorrow, anger, and affection. You had tried your best to manage it— only taking a handful of appointments a day and heading straight home when they were complete. You no longer visited your favorite cafes, went to see a film in theaters, and it had become impossible for you to even go grocery shopping. It was at this revelation, and one too many nights suffering through the spikes of passion during your neighbors’ love-making sessions, that you were forced to move out of the city and into the wilderness.

And, finally, with some peace, you were able to live semi-normally. You missed people, more often than not as it seemed, but you have come to terms with your life. You were no longer using your abilities to do readings or holding technically unlicensed therapy sessions, and instead had somehow picked up writing. You were told that the way you described human emotion was ‘far beyond what a singular-introspect should be able to accomplish’ and you supposed it was because of your once adored gift. And while you were content living in solitude, you relished in the days when you had visitors.

It may not be frequent, but you still had friends that came to visit with you, as well as your editor and a cute delivery guy who brings you your groceries every two weeks. The grocery boy, Jungkook, who’s name you finally managed to pull out of him after three months of seeing his round nervous eyes in awkward silence, was the person you saw most often. At first, you thought it was sad, seeing as he didn’t talk to you at all besides a quick “thank you, have a good day” at the end of his visits before scurrying away, making the only person you saw on a regular basis someone you didn’t even talk to, not that you didn’t try. You could tell he was nervous, uncomfortable around strangers, but there was something else more pungent beneath that kept him wary— fear.

Once he had become comfortable enough to talk to you, he had confided that there were quite a few rumors spreading around about you— the most prominent being that you were a witch. You laughed, though it was not totally far from the truth. He seemed a bit unnerved by your laughter, so you smiled at him and told him that you had once owned a spiritual business and, for the first time in months, offered to give him a reading. He accepted, suddenly less afraid and more curious of you, and the two of you have been friends ever since.

You weren’t supposed to see Jungkook for another week or so, his deliveries come on every first and third Friday of the month, and you normally impatiently wait for his company until then, however, this coming Monday, you were to see your editor, Kim Namjoon, who works for Big Hit Publishing. He was an excellent writer himself, but that never caused any imposition of his own style onto his clients’, which you appreciated greatly.

Now, as you had said before, you were supposed to be getting a visit from Namjoon on Monday, and today was currently Wednesday, so imagine your surprise when a series of emotions enter your senses just after midday, signaling the approach of another human being approaching your door. Brows furrowed, you pluck yourself out of your plush chair and set down the book you were currently engrossed in. You were expecting to have a relaxing, empty day today, but the universe seems to have other plans for you.

The first waves you pick up are timid and non-threatening, so you assumed they were a friendly stranger in need of something. You stood by the door and waited your guest to knock, as you had learned that it was quite abnormal to open the door for someone before they announced themselves. When the rapping at the door finally came, you still postponed opening the door for a beat to make it appear as if you had walked away from whatever you were doing.

Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you opened the door, coming face-to-face with a tall stranger with plush lips and broad shoulders. You blinked, giving him a once-over. Long legs, toned, from what you could see. A slim, yet sturdy middle that branched out to his wide shoulders which were the perfect podium for the long neck that lead to his perfect face. Dark eyes, straight nose, and, oddly, appealing purple hair. Why purple? You wonder to yourself, but before you can delve any further into that thought a charming smile spreads across his lips.

“Hello!” He chirps in a light tone. You return the greeting, finally broken from the stupor the attractive man had put you in. “I’m Kim Seokjin! I just moved into a house just a-ways up the lake.” He introduced himself as he held out his hand for you to shake. You looked at it warily for a moment before taking it lightly. You have to stop yourself from flinching as another wave of electric emotions filled your senses. Nervousness— from meeting someone new? Fear— perhaps he has heard the rumors about you. And something else… something you don’t have much experience with, so you can’t pinpoint what it is. Over all, nothing too peculiar about this man besides his hair color.

“Y/N,” you managed after you pushed through his sensation of your powers. Seokjin nodded at you as if confirming that he’s learned your name and released your hand, slipping his own into the pocket of his trousers. You shifted a bit, your own discomfort becoming apparent. You weren’t used to dealing with people anymore, let alone strangers. It’s been just over a year since you separated yourself from society, so your social skills were rather impaired now.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” He said cheerfully, and you felt his nervousness fade fractionally. “I just wanted to come meet the only neighbor I have for miles and offer my services!” You gave him an incredulous look, but his enthusiasm didn’t waiver.

“Your services?” You couldn’t help the playful hint that leaked its way into your voice. The man was rather… boisterous, to put it kindly, and he had an air of confidence around him that made you believe he knew how good-looking he was.

“Yes!” He chirped, pulling his hand out of his pocket and holding a small business card out to you. “If you ever need anything, just give me a call!” He grinned down at you and you returned with a pleasant smile, taking the card from him carefully to avoid brushing his fingers with yours. “After all, it’s not often you’ll get a neighbor as attractive as me!” At that, your smile fell and you blinked at him once more with wide eyes. His laughter filled your ears, obviously amused with himself and your reaction, and you couldn’t help the awkward chuckle that escaped you too. How were you supposed to respond to that?

“Uh, yes, well… thank you, Mr. Kim.” You held up his card, forcing a smile his way. You had no idea how to deal with such a man— he wasn’t like anyone you’ve met before. Your friends were confident, yes, but this guys just set a new standard.

“Seokjin, or Jin, please,” he corrected. “Mr. Kim is my father. Or that crazy old guy who’s constantly yelling at youths about laziness and too much PDA. Ah, no, that’s still my father….” At that you gave a sincere chuckle. Giant Narcissistic complex aside, he seemed like a relatively good guy, and with your constant loneliness perhaps it was time you became friendly with one neighbor. It doesn’t hurt that he is, unfortunately, as good looking as he implies. You fiddled with the card in your fingers.

“Seokjin, then,” You looked at the floor shyly. “Thank you.” His grin widens and he nods, putting his hand back in his pocket.

“Of course!” He tilted his head to look around your form and into your home and gave a low whistle. “Nice place! You should invite me over to dinner sometime!” Ah, that ego again. Of course, you could only be so ‘honored’ to have someone as good-looking as him come to your place for dinner. Seokjin’s personality has seemed to break through your walls as you snort at his comment.

“It’s rather impolite to invite yourself to dinner. Maybe I’ll just show up at your place next time,” you joked, giggling a bit, when the air around you turned sour. Panic— panic— panic— he was panicking. Why? It was so strong; why was he panicked? Oh, god it was everywhere, it was suffocating. But as you looked at his face, it was as calm and charming as ever, a kind smile still gracing his pillow-y lips.

“Spare me the embarrassment, please— you wouldn’t believe it with how put-together and beautiful I am, but my home is an absolute disaster!” He laughed, and it was such a stark difference from the emotions radiating off of him that it made your head spin. You schooled your expression though, making it seem as if nothing was off.

“A-ah, I see,” You cleared your throat, trying to extinguish the panic he was pouring into you. “Well, then, if I ever make too much food…” You trailed off slightly, causing him to hum.

“Give me a call! I’ll be happy to eat whatever you have extra!” He took that moment to smoothly end the conversation. “Well, I should head home! Maybe try to get my house into presentable condition.” Seokjin gave a light chuckle before stepped back away from your door and began backtracking. “It was nice to meet you Miss Y/N!” He waved, and you strained a smile before returning the gesture with a small wave of your own.

“You as well, Seokjin,” And with that, he turned on his heel and headed down your driveway to where you finally noticed his sporty little white Hyundai is parked. You watched him get into his vehicle and begin backing out of your dirt driveway before you closed your front door and leaned against it, breathing in your first lungful of unencumbered air now that Seokjin is driving away and taking his heavy emotions with him.

What was that? The moment you suggested visiting his home he put off wave after wave of terror. Was he uncomfortable with people entering his home? No, even if it were a mess, there’s no reason to get that worked up about visitors. Especially since it didn’t seem like he had anxiety. No, it seemed more like… like he had something to hide?

Ah.

You pushed away from your door and made your way back to your chair overlooking the lake, more focused now with your clarity. That ‘something else’ that you hadn’t been able to identify earlier when you first saw him standing in front of your house.

It was deception.

The next two days pass without incident. Seokjin had not stopped by again, nor did you attempt to contact him. After your first meeting, you figured rushing to get to know him may not be in your best interests considering the electric negative emotions he had bombarded you with. Panic, fear, anxiety— all leading to the revelation that he was hiding something from you. Still, he didn’t seem like a bad person.

This was one of the rare times where you were getting two very different readings and felt as if you couldn’t completely rely on your gift. Usually you were able to weed people out easily— both a blessing and a curse— which is why you only have a handful of people you actually trusted. This one, however, was quite confusing…

“Kim Seokjin…” You muttered to yourself, tapping your pen against your notepad. You had been trying to jot down notes for the next book you were planning, but all you could think about was Kim-fucking-Seokjin.

You groaned and tossed your pen onto the kitchen table. You had decided to work there today since you couldn’t seem to get anything done in your office yesterday, but as it turns out it wasn’t the setting that was bothering you, but your mind. Of all the times to have writers block, it had to be now— the weekend before your meeting with Namjoon to discuss the proposal for your next book. You had just about everything you needed, except how to start it. Endings were always your strength; your novels always started with the ending and you worked your story backwards. Beginnings were always slow and uneventful; they were so tedious to get through with character introductions and setting descriptions. Ugh. Torture.

With a huff, you gave up, pushing away from the table and standing up. Your gaze drifted over to the lake; maybe some time out of the house would help clear your head. Taking your socks off before you can have second thoughts, you tread to the glass door leading out to your backyard. You quickly make your way across your patio and on to the lush green lawn, the blades of grass tickling your feet as you strolled down, down, further down until the grass ended and sand began. Your stride didn’t stop until your toes touched the cool water and you bend over to roll the sweatpants you’re wearing up to your knees in order to take a further step into the lake.

A relieved sigh slipped through your lips as you tilted your face towards the sky and let the warm breeze caress your troubled body while you thought. You hadn’t had an issue with reading someone like you were having with Seokjin in quite some time, and it was bothering you more than a little bit. Your instincts were telling you that he was good: kind, silly, and a little [read: a fuckton] egotistical. But your readings… they were throwing you off entirely. Your gut or your abilities— which one do you rely on in this situation?

Splashing in the water to your right breaks through your thoughts and you whip your head around to see what it is. At first, you didn’t see anything; the splashing sounded a bit further away from your current location, but the serene quiet that lays over the lake like a delicate shroud allows sound to travel. You focused, straining your eyes to try and pick out any detail that doesn’t belong to the scenery, until a small figure appears in the distance.

‘It’s… a boy?’ Curious. Seokjin said he moved in just up the lake, but, to you, this doesn’t look like your new neighbor. To start, this man had dark hair, and while Seokjin’s purple hair wasn’t particularly bright, you’d still be able to differentiate the splash of color against the natural scenery. Another thing was he was staring right at you, and yet made no move to greet you in any way. You shifted under his stare— it was unnerving to say the least, and it didn’t help that he was far enough away that your empath capabilities couldn’t pick up on his intentions.

So, deciding to end the uncomfortable stare-down, you lifted a hand to wave at him silently. The boy did nothing in return; in fact, if you had to guess, he hadn’t even blinked either. You slowly retracted your hand and began chewing on your bottom lip as another revelation hit you. Seokjin didn’t mention anything about a roommate, and everything on this stretch of lakeside property was private property. You certainly hadn’t seen him before, and so begs the question: who is this man and where did he come from?

Suddenly, the man’s attention was caught by something else, his head snapping towards the trees. For a moment, he did nothing else as you continued to scrutinize his every move. However, he only looked at you once more before turning fully to the trees and striding quickly into them with purpose. You stared in unrestricted wonder at the spot he had just been standing, before turning and walking back inside your house, locking all of your doors for safe measure.

[joshslater]

The Reformatory

A rewrite of jd07201990′s swimmer story. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

T -1

Dear diary or however you are supposed to start.

So tomorrow is the big day. Dad and I are sleeping at a Holiday Inn at the other side of the state. Well, I'm obviously not sleeping. How could I? So I thought I should start a journal of some sort to document this experience.

Some background. Two months ago I was in a fight with Mark Samberg on the football team. It had gotten pretty bad between the football schmucks and us swimmers. The jockheads were constantly harassing us, calling us fags and prissy boys. It happened often and was getting boring. As the captain of the swim team I asked Mark to knock it off and get his players in line. Idiot as he is he tried to knock me out instead, and I lost it. In our scramble I managed to knock him down and was about to kick him in the shin when he shifted and instead I connected with his knee. Apparently it fractured. He'll be able to walk and even run, but he'll not be able to play again for years, so he lost his Scholarship.

His family sued everyone they could. Me, the school, the swim coach. In the end all the lawyers sat down in a room with a local judge and came up with something they all could agree to. Mark gets some study assistance to get his grades up, the school had this quickly brushed under the carpet, and could pretend I was never student there. Me not graduating wasn’t really a blow, as my college fund now went to pay for Mark’s education, as compensation. They were rich enough to afford it anyway, but they wanted to see punishment. I get the honor to spend the next 180 days at the Lepinski Adolescence Reformation Center, where I will "participate in all scheduled exercises, activities, therapies, meals and medication programs". They can tack on some extra days for bad behavior without going back to the judge, but essentially I get 6 months at bad boy camp for standing up to bullies.

What will I do there? No idea. The website talks a lot about work ethics and responsibility and working together with the local community. Sounds like labor camp to me. I'll guess we'll know tomorrow. But first we have to visit the hospital for a check up. My first day in prison will mostly not be in prison!

Day 1, Monday

We started with a checkup at the hospital, and man did they do a thorough job. Our appointment was at 10, but before that I had to fill out a form with 100 questions. The doctor spent more than 30 minutes doing the most extensive check I've ever had. Not only that, but after the check we had to go to the sample lab to draw blood, and finally I had a CT scan at noon. After that, and a quick lunch, we drove to the actual reformation center, which was in a smaller town 2 hours away.

It's an old boarding school building that they've turned into this "Reformation Center", and it clearly looks more like a prison than a school. Just a heap of two story brick and concrete buildings out in nowhere. Not much of security, but then everyone was there "voluntarily", meaning that we all had a proper punishment waiting for us if we left. I hugged dad goodbye and was shown to Mr. Kerwin’s office by the entrance guard.

Mr. Kerwin was a lean, ripped man in his forties that oozed military discipline. He explained that he was responsible for my rehabilitation and that he wouldn't start soft. He would give me a packed schedule, and if I didn't pull my weight he would add more days for "noncompliance". If I didn't like it I could run back to judge Stephenson and ask to start over in juvie.

Perhaps that would be better, because the schedule he showed me was totally insane.

4:30-5:00  Breakfast 5:00-8:00  Exercise pass 1 8:00-12:00 Work pass 1 12:00-12:30 Lunch 12:30-14:30 School 14:30-17:30 Work pass 2 17:30-18:00 Dinner 18:00-21:00 Exercise pass 2 21:30       Lights out

He explained that my breakfast, lunch and dinner would be pre-portioned and I was required to eat all of it. The exercise passes would be lead by himself or one of the assistants. Again, I would have to follow every instruction. The work passes were done at local businesses that wanted an extra hand, and changed depending on demand. The school passes were done as a group on whatever subject Mr. Reed selected.

Next he ordered me to get naked and place all my clothes on top of my bag and move to the other side of the room. Having done so he pointed at a stack of clothes on the table and told me to pick my size and get dressed. I quickly dressed in one of the track suits from the table. There was a baseball cap also, which confused me, but was told that it was instead of sunglasses when working outdoor.

With that I was given a rule book to study and was led by an assistant to my room where a dinner was waiting. Turkey, rice, water. I was reminded of lights out at 21:30 and wake up at 4:30. The assistant left and locked the door. 10 minutes later he came back with my journal book and pen, and told me that they'll keep the rest for now.

Having eaten the dinner and having three hours (I'm almost sure 21:30 is 9:30 PM) to kill before the lights go out I'm now summarizing the day. I'm sitting in something very similar to a prison cell. Bed, toilet, sink. Everything is clean, though somewhat worn. Looking into the mirror is kind of depressing though. I look like some jailed gang member.

It's kind of weird that I haven't met any of the other inmates, sorry students, here. I saw some of them while coming in, but perhaps this is their kind of hazing, or they do an official presentation tomorrow. Anyway, I should study the rule book and go to bed, since I didn't sleep much last night.

Day 2, Tuesday

So much to write about, so little time. I might have to split this into several entries since lights out is in 20 minutes.

I was awaken at 4:30 and given a tray with a large bowl of porridge and berries and some chalky smoothie or shake or whatever to drink. After that an assistant lead me to the gym room where we went over various machines, mainly for cardio. Elliptical, bike, treadmill. Weird thing was that it was only us two in the room during all three hours.

Sweaty and a bit tired I was then taken outside to a bus where some of the other boys where chilling. Apparently everyone else had breakfast between 7 and 8. They had no idea why I didn't join them there. The bus then drove around town and the driver announced who should exit where. My group of four people exited at a farm before town, only about 5 minutes away. I don't know exactly since I haven't been given my watch back.

There we spent hours just moving hay. Don't they know about tractors? Sweaty, itchy, tired and hungry we were then picked up and driven back. At lunch was the first time I saw the real common area. To my surprise there were more boys there than had been on the bus.

Everyone else could pick what they wanted from what was served, but I was given a ready tray with an heap of salmon and pasta. I was starving though, so it wasn't a problem to eat it all. I didn't have much time to talk, but the guys at my table were nice. Somewhat rough, as could be expected. Apparently you were chosen for the different work assignments, and if you were not picked you stayed at the center for sports or craft or similar things.

After Lunch followed a session with Mr. Reed. The first boring hour was on English grammar and the second boring hour on US geography. I aced the quizz getting all 50 states and state capitols right, so I didn't learn anything new after that. Then Mr. Reed announced who had work assignments, and I was again selected.

This time I and Troy were dropped off at a different farm where we spent almost three hours helping with fencing. Mainly carry posts and sawing them to length.

For dinner I had some meatballs with roasted sweet potatoes while everyone else had meatballs with tomato sauce. Mr. Kerwin picked me up and led me to the gym. Unlike the morning session this was all about weight training. Most of it was on finding my limits for different exercises while Mr. Kerwin pointed out how I could improve my form. You could tell that this was what he liked to do, and encouraged me to push a bit further. Once we were done I had a bottle of post workout mix of some sort and a very quick shower before rushing back to my room.

Here's the thing. My room is on a different floor than the other guys. Also, my schedule appears to be different and much more rigid than the rest of the guys. I also

Day 3, Wednesday

I couldn't finish the last entry before they cut the light. My entire body is in pain right now. I woke up like that, and it didn't go away all day. Same schedule as yesterday, but different tasks and different dishes. The assistant really pushed today during the morning session, so I was exhausted already at the bus. Planting bushes at the city park all morning didn't help. I got some rest during Reeds rehash of elementary math. Then back to doing fences, and top it all off with weight training. I asked Mr. Kerwin about the schedule and why it was so different from everyone else’s. He said that everyone's schedule is individual and that he'll adjust mine as needed.

One more weird thing before I fall to sleep. Everyone else is using their normal clothes. I haven't gotten mine back yet.

Day 4, Thursday

FUCK! I was back on moving hay today again, with Sam, Trevor and Rick. I'm still hurting like hell and Rick is one lazy motherfucker, so old fart Farmer Joe decided to complain. The end result is that I am getting 2 days added for noncompliance. Sam, Trevor and Rick got nothing. WTF!

Day 5, Friday

We were carrying merchandise all morning and Troy heckled me on how I got more days because of the piece of shit Rick. But he then said that it was a weird coincidence that every work shift I've been on has been the toughest one.

Instead of going to class I met with the doctor from the hospital who made a visit. He asked me about how I felt, where I was sore etc. Then he gave me an injection which he said would ease things for me. I didn't feel much different, but I was getting really sleepy getting back to Mr. Reeds class, but it might just be that everything he did was too simple and boring.

Apparently while I had a check up Troy had shared his theory about me being a work magnet, so there were some groans from the guys placed in my group. God damn fence work again.

Man, I'm tired. I was tired even before Mr. Kerwin gave me the toughest weight pass ever. Fuck, I'm tired.

Day 6, Saturday

So the weekend schedule is different. There is still a morning work pass, basically only used by the local farmers. But the afternoon is free both on Saturdays and Sundays. Conditions and terms applies, apparently. Since I haven't done any cleaning or dishes all week (how could I?), I'm assigned washing clothes, sheets etc. Man, how much better it is to carry laundry than hay. Best job assignment all week. Lots of downtime. Only real drawback is all the humidity. It’s steamy AF here.

Still fucking 3h workout pass in the morning and evening. The other boys were pretty vocal in mocking me on my way to the gym.

Day 7, Sunday

So the day started out as any other so far. Woke up sore. Breakfast alone and 3 hour gym session. There are no work passes outside LARC on Sundays, so I was hit with cleaning, together with Kyle G. and Rick. Rick ghosted after like three minutes, but KG did a solid work. It took us all the time til lunch though to finish it.

Then my first free couple of hours all week. It’s insane. The other guys were low key avoiding me, so I did what Mr. Kerwin had suggested and had a walk in the forest. It was actually kind of nice, and for some weird reason I didn’t feel like sitting still.

Day 8, Monday

Same shit again. Mr. Kerwin gave me a shot in the arm this evening. Apparently I’ll have one each Monday from now on. Whatever.

Also I found out today that the others don’t have formal lights out. I’m on my own floor so they can lock me up and cut the power. What the fuck?

Day 9, Tuesday

That fucker Rick slacked off again, taunting me about another two days. Ha! I got 10. Mostly for kicking him in the teeth. They locked me in my room, so I had lunch there and sat in this boring ass cell during class and work. Fuck, I don’t know what’s worse. I had to do some body weight exercises to keep sane. Fuck this shit.

Back again. I still got to have my evening workout. Kerwin was pushing harder than ever. The order of exercises was different too. Apparently to make the major muscles tired so smaller muscle groups then get to work. Or something. I don’t give a shit.

Day 11, Thursday

They fucking work now, don’t they the little shits. They know I ruined someones career to get here and another one for slacking off. They better pull there weight

Day 14, Sunday

I think I’ll stick to just write on Sundays. There is only half an hour from evening gym to lights out, so there isn’t much time for writing. I’ve even skipped shower a few times. It’s not like it matters when you start every fucking day getting soaked with cardio. Not like there are any girls around to impress either. Sunday has a different vibe tho. Cleaning, running in the forest and taking a long shower.

Starts and ends with fucking gym time though.

Day 21, Sunday

I really fucking like the forest runs. Its like you don’t have to think and can just run wherever and grab whatever and smash whatever. Fucking love it

Day 28, Sunday

Yay! A full fucking month!

It’s crazy though how much stronger I’m. I have gone up one size larger track suite and 2 sizes larger sneakers. Working hard to make me the best I guess.

Day 42, Sunday

guess i forgot about writing last week. i think the monday shots make me angry or something because last week fucked up someone else on tuesday. at least they all give me fucking respect at least.

Day 92, Monday

i dont give a shit abot reeds borin ass lessons and they fuckin repeat on a loop or some shit. today he was back on gramr and the states. i most time dont fill out his shit but wanted to do it again today. fucking aced most of the states. not so good on the capitols tho

Day 203, Sunday

only 2 weeks left tomorrow lol then im gonna yeet the fuck outta here !!!! adios motherfuckas

Mr. Kerwin enters the room, carrying a folder, and walks behind his desk, not even looking at me. I am sitting in his precious fucking antique chair I pulled from the corner. He’s sitting his ass down, rifles through the papers in the folder and starts to read from one of them.

“John Hamlin agrees to 180 days of rehabilitation training at the Lepinski Adolescence Reformation Center, where he will participate in all scheduled exercises, activities, therapies, meals and medication programs, with a possible extension of 30 days for noncompliance and a possible extension of 60 days for infractions as described by the Juvenile Rehabilitation Act (JuRA), section 1103 (b).”

He looks up at me. It sounded like easy shit when I said yes to it. I thought half a year in a bad boy summer camp, or worst case something like prison, but that would have been miles better than this fucking non-stop hard labor shit. And 180 days was a fucking joke. They never fucking intended that to be the actual time. Have someone else slack off and the slap another 2 days to the time. Kick a chair to pieces, 5 days. Punch a guy for being a cunt, 10 days. I’m close to having another fucking outburst again. It must be all that fucking shit they put in the food or shakes or whatever. I fight it. I don’t want to show any emotion in front of him. I don’t think he buys my shit.

“There is another document in the agreement that you haven’t heard. This one between Mark and judge Andrews.”

He pulls out another paper from the folder and read it.

“The state hereby directs Mark Samberg, or person(s) by him so designated, to design and oversee the rehabilitation program of John Hamlin to be administrated at the Lepinski Adolescence Reformation Center. This includes physical exercises, physical therapy, education, consoling, dietary plan and medication, as long as it fulfills the positive development criteria (Appendix D), is within the available services at the Lepinski Adolescence Reformation Center (Appendix A) and within the given budget (Appendix C). Additional services require external financing and approval from the Reformation Center management (Appendix B).”

That doesn’t make any fucking sense. Why the hell had the judge put Mark in charge of my schedule? I understand why he’d want to make the experience suck as much as fucking possible for me, by why had everyone agreed to it? Kerwin looks at me as if he can read an open book.

“You are wondering what has happened to you. What was the meaning of all this? Stand up.”

I jump to my feet. There are still weeks he can add to my time here, and I don’t want to give him any fucking reason to add some shit.

“Stand with your feet as close together as you can.”

He’s never asked me to do that before. I can easily tap me feet together, but I can’t really stand still with my feet right next to each other for long. What the fuck is this bullshit? My thighs are too massive for that.

“Sit down again.”

He leans back and watches me with a bemused smirk.

“Imagine that you’d been away from swimming half a year. Even if you kept in shape it would take you months to be back in good enough technique to clear the swim team tryouts. But you have not kept in shape, have you? You have a completely new shape.”

The blood is draining from my face. I understand where this is going.

“With your upper body build you can physically really only do butterfly strokes properly, but if you can’t bring your feet together the leg kick will just be a wild thrashing of water. You swimming medley would be a hilarious joke. We haven’t even talked about you almost doubling in weight, and how much more oxygen you would need to swim. Sure, you are much stronger now, but old you would swim circles around new you. And that is of course the point. If Mark couldn’t have his sports career, he didn’t want you to have yours either. And the judge agreed.”

I’m surprised that the chair doesn’t break, as hard as I’m squeezing it. I’m boiling with fucking rage. I have to really focus to not to act on it.

“Now the judge specifically set out that this transformation couldn’t be punishment in itself, but rather that you were trained in a way that just wasn’t optimal for swimming. We may have gone a bit overboard with the body building to leave you many options though. You’ll obviously never be competitive in anything with speed or agility, like football or boxing. The metabolic conditioning, hormone treatment and gene therapy have far to long lasting effects to change you back from where you are now. You could try wrestling or weight lifting though, unless you mind showing your erection through spandex.”

“What the fuck?”, I said, as much as a general question to all the things he’d said. What does metabolic conditioning mean? Gene therapy? Erections?

“The medical regimen that Marks family found for you kind of put the feet on both the gas and the break at the same time. It forces the body to grow a lot at the same time as we try to stop it, so it has to try even harder. By injecting stem cells with the right CRISPR-modified DNA we could get rapid, major and long lasting changes. Well, I say we, but all I did was to make sure you kept to the exercise regimen, for a little cash on the side… Surely you didn’t think you got larger feet and dick from eating much and working hard?”

I don’t understand exactly what they done to me, but the result is pretty fucking clear. There was no way I would swim competitively ever again, if I could even fucking swim at all now. I would come out of here looking like a fucking balloon animal muscle jock, and shedding the muscles back to where I were would take shitloads of years.

“The hormone treatment finished two weeks ago and last blood sample shows that your natural hormone levels will keep you muscled and pumped probably well into your forties. So this morning I also cut you off from all suppressive medication as well. That is going to spike your hormone levels and mess quite a bit with you, so we need to see just how badly fucked up you are before we can release you.”

“The good doctor say that you’ll be more irritable and have more excess energy than before. Both something you can work on with regular, hard exercise. But I want to see where you really are at now, so starting today you’ll have no required gym time and labor passes. You can wake up when you want, eat what you want and do what you want.”

“You said erections?”, I asked.

“Yeah, the suppression medication should have kept you limp. You haven’t jacked off while here, have you? Well, you heard what I said about gas and break and compensation. Your body has been pumping massive amounts of hormones into your blood, and will continue to do so. But now that you don’t have the suppressives anymore you should expect to be horny for the next decade or two. You’ll be nothing but a lumbering muscle dildo.”

There’s a crack somewhere inside the wood of the armrest. Fucking fourteen more days, I have to remind myself. Don’t fuck any shit up before then. If I let go of the chair I’m quite positive I will knock him the fuck out. Fourteen fucking more shit days.

[susieskinner93]

Affair...or is it?

my fic for day4 of robron week 2020

“This brings back some memories.” - he heard Robert chuckle from behind him.

“They haven't followed you right?” - asked Aaron turning around as he saw Robert entering the barn.

“Nice to see you too.” - smiled Robert before he pulled Aaron in for a quick kiss.

“Yeah yeah, I'm glad you're here. So?” - he asked again. Robert laughed at him before he saw how serious Aaron was.

“No. They haven't. Vic tried to get me to go over though. Have a chat.”

“She's not suspicious is she?”

“Because she simply couldn't ask about how I've been getting on right?” - asked Robert joking.

“Sorry... it's just....” - started Aaron biting his lips as he stroked Robert's arms.

“No I get it.” - he sighed before they went quiet. -”Tell you who was definitely suspicious though. Your mum.”

“What?”

“Yesterday I had lunch with Vic in the pub, and Chas made it obvious how she feels about me being out.” - he frowned.

“Did she say something?”

“She told Paddy you must have met a bloke because you're actually smiling more, and you seem happy and how fantastic it is after the shit I put you through.”

“She said that? You know it's not true right? You're not to blame.”

“But I am.” - said Robert - “I pushed you away, wanted you to move on...”

“And I couldn't. What does that tell you?”- asked Aaron stepping closer.

“That you're an idiot.” -smiled Robert before he kissed him. - “I think Vic is onto something.” - said Robert stopping the kiss.

“She said something?”

“Not exactly... just kept mentioning you, ever since I’m back really. She said I couldn’t just give up.... then she asked me how would I feel if you’d start dating a bloke right in front of me.” 

“What did you say?”

“The truth.” - he shrugged - “That it would destroy me.”

“Robert...”

“No, it’s true.” - he sighed - “But... hopefully that won’t happen.” - he smiled. 

“Like I’d ever do that.” - scoffed Aaron before he started smirking and took a step back from Robert. - “I've got something for ya.” -he said biting his lip.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Close your eyes.”

“Come on Aaron just tell me!”

“No, close your eyes first.” - he said not moving a muscle until Robert did as he was told. Aaron didn't wait a second before he pulled out the ring from his pocket, slipping it on Robert's finger. He felt Robert tense before he saw him staring at the ring.

“You...”

“We talked about it.” -shrugged Aaron. That was true. Robert was out of prison for the last 5 months and despite Aaron slamming the door in his face at first, they made up fairly quick, and ever since, they kept their relationship a secret. It wasn’t easy. They avoided each other in public. The whole village thought the reunion didn't quite succeed. They knew people were talking about it. Still after 5 months when they occasionally were in the pub at the same time, they would hear the whispers. People were wondering what happened, why they didn’t get back on. Little did they know... But it was necessary. Chas tried her best to keep Aaron out of Robert's way, and she was delighted when she overheard Robert telling Victoria how Aaron didn't want anything to do with him. It was all an act though. They needed space...from others, from the family, from the gossip, and that's how they started seeing each other in secret. It was better than keeping their distance. They couldn't have managed it anyway.

“You know if I'm gonna wear this our secret is over, right?” - said Robert looking at Aaron.

“I know. But...I can't expect me husband to act like we're strangers, can I.” - he said smirking.

“Wha...what did you just say?” - asked Robert gobsmacked. They haven't talked about formalities yet, so this came as a surprise for him.

“What are you doing this Friday?” - he asked and Robert's eyes widened.

“Are...are you sure?” - he asked shocked but he still couldn't stop smiling.

“Yeah. Booked it today. Usually there’s a waiting list but someone cancelled just before I got there and when I asked about their earliest appointment they told me Friday’s available. They were joking obviously.. when I said I take it... they thought I’m pulling their legs.” - he laughed - “So....this is kinda our last time to meet in secret.”

“What about tomorrow? It's only Wednesday.”

“You said me mum's suspicious. I sort it. And work. Because after we get married I want you all to myself for a whole week at least.”

*flashback*

“Hello luv, a pint was it?” - asked Chas as she saw Aaron entering the pub.

“Yeah, go on then, but I can’t stay long.” - he said checking his phone. 

“Is it a bloke by any chance?” - asked Chas trying to get to know more. She knew something was up with Aaron. Lately he seemed... lighter. It was really refreshing to see it, especially now that Robert was back in the village and Chas was up half the night worrying about Aaron getting sucked into Robert’s lies again. Her words exactly. 

“No. None of your business anyway.” - scoffed Aaron before his phone beeped. A message. He opened it quickly, and started smiling instantly. 

“As long as he makes you happy luv, that’s all that matters.” - smiled Chas putting the glass in front of him. - “It can only be better than Robert.” - she added half whispering. Aaron heard it but tried to ignore it. He couldn’t deal with his mother’s mithering, when he just confirmed another date with Robert. Well... if you can call a secret meeting a date.

“I have to go to London for a scrap run. It’s a 3 day job. So... I can’t babysit Eve.” - he told his mother. He knew they wanted to ask him, but he couldn’t turn down an opportunity to be with Robert. Not even for his little sister. 

“Ah, don’t worry luv, we sort it. Just have fun.” - she smirked... and did she wink at him? 

“It’s work mum.” - he said again trying to sound convincing. 

“Sure it is.” - she smiled. Aaron gave up. At least she didn’t think it was Robert. He couldn’t deal with the drama, not right now. Right now, seeing Robert was all that mattered. 

*end of flashback*

“Chas is gonna hate this.” -said Robert worrying. - “Everybody will.”

“Not everybody.”

“My sister doesn’t count.” - he said.

“Robert, my mum’s been trying to get a name out of me ever since we... you know. She knows I’m happy.” 

“Are you? Are you really? I mean... we can only meet in barns... and hotels... outside of the village. It’s like...” 

“Like old times?” - asked Aaron with a little laugh.

“You can’t be happy with that.”

“But I am.” - he said confirming it. - “Because Robert, those years without ya? It wasn’t something I’d call life. And no, please don’t say I’m overreacting. I told you how it was. You know.” 

“I know.” - he nodded. - “I just want you to be sure.”

“It was never a question.” - he said as he kissed him again. 

“So, from now on this ‘affair’ is over?” - asked Robert smiling. 

“Looks like it.” - answered Aaron - “But I still have...” - he said checking his phone - “..about 45 minutes before me mum’s gonna call to ask me to stop by for tea.”

“And to ask you who’s your mystery bloke is.”

“That too.” - he grinned. - “So? Do you wanna talk... or you’d rather get on with it?” - he asked impatiently making Robert smile before he lunged forward to take the lead. He waited for years to have this again, to be with Robert again. He didn’t want to waste any more minutes. 

[datingintampafails]

Chapter 24 Jake* Part Two

First Date and Another Week

Finally, he arrived at my place to pick me up for our first date, what normally was a five minute drive became twenty five minutes due to traffic. I hop in his car and I’m excited. While we are driving, I look at his center console and see a book regarding Emmanuel Kant, a philosopher. We talk briefly about philosophers, this one in my opinion tells me a lot about him, though he says he doesn’t think Kant’s ideals are sustainable and rather just interesting to think about. Jake* did not have high degrees from college, but is intelligent and well read, there’s more to this book than just the cover.

I had made reservations for my favorite restaurant, Maggiano’s. At the restaurant, it feels like we’ve been together forever, I’m discussing with the waitress that he’s allergic to cheese and making sure that certain items on the menu are okay for him. I order my food and get a glass of wine. Dinner is the opposite of awkward, we are engaged in conversation without a dull moment and happy to be together. 

My best friend got word that we were going to our favorite place, so I ask him if it’s okay if we bring her some leftovers of cheesy garlic bread. He’s completely cool about it, so on the way, we stop by my friend’s apartment to give her the food. She meets us outside and meets him briefly. He is a little quiet but otherwise friendly and we chat for a couple minutes before driving off to my place, a few minutes down the street.

We get back to my place to continue hanging out. My dog goes crazy for him, but after a bit, she relaxed so we could focus on each other. I couldn’t tell you what we were watching, we were just cuddling. We kissed not that much, as his beard’s length scratched my face and I told him it was uncomfortable on my face, but that I definitely wanted to kiss him. I at one point brought my dog outside, and upon returning inside I said I didn’t feel good. My Apple Watch said my heart rate was at 160 bpm, insanely high for me, and I laid back down on the couch. Again, a caring man to the rescue. He tells me to relax there and he will get anything I need and not get up. He gets my dog and brings her back inside, he brings me a drink, I’m waited on hand and foot. I feel better with him around. We spoke about a lot that night of course, but I remember him telling me about him having deleted Hinge and I was the only one he was talking to. Although things so far had felt pretty deep, I was still super surprised he had dropped everything, seemingly, to be with me. I of course had done the same, but for my own reasons. I had talked about Jake* to my best friend and in talking with her I made a deal that if things with him didn’t work out, I would cease dating around until a vaccine comes out/COVID is more or less over.

Meanwhile, outside of my head, he touches my leg and I admit that I have become rather *excited* by being with him in person, our chemistry is just as good in person. He starts to finger me, I tell him to be careful because I wouldn’t want my heart rate to increase again. Strangely, I let him continue and my heart rate goes down. Upon taking a break, this man takes his hand and puts his fingers in his mouth, tasting it. I laugh at him and call him a freak but he laughs too. He too is turned on and he asks me if I want to touch him. I say that I am afraid his claims of being a shrimp are true. Curiosity gets the best of me and over his pants, I touch him and say “oh okay.” I know enough that he is not small. Besides that, nothing happens, as due to my heart issues, I have told him that I want to wait until I’ve seen a cardiologist and make sure it is safe for me to be participating in “cardio.” I ask him if he wants to sleep over, because I want to spend time with him now that I can, and because sexually I am tempted and almost want to just see what happens. He says no. We stop fooling around and just hang out together for another bit of time before he starts to get a headache and becomes really tired. It is then time to leave and agree that we will both have to masturbate later tonight due to our forbidden sex. 

The next day, I am off to test drive a potential new car. We text during my experience there while I’m waiting and I share my news of the new car and the not so great experience at another dealership trying to take care of my old car. He talks about how he felt off due to his headache/tiredness and is seeing a doctor Monday:

We talk about what happened too with the lack of a sleepover: 

I remind him of the activities we DID do, and that obviously I definitely was feeling it. It’s bizarre to me that he still holds uncertainty for my growing feelings of him. 

He is talking about me to his family, I know because he mentions his mother “keeps asking” about me, “will I get to meet this one?” He jokes about telling her I’m 10 years older than him. I say “yeah we just had our first date last night so I should meet your mom tomorrow.” “Exactly.” He now claims he is bored, I ask if he’s bored or if he just wishes I was there. Again, an “exactly.” I get real again.

He decides to take a nap before watching football with his family. He says he is coming back after dinner and asks to come over. I say absolutely and he sends an emoji surrounded by hearts. More or less, he appears at my door maybe 45 minutes later. I did not notice at first, but he had shaved so that his beard was more like stubble. He called me out for not noticing, but upon kissing him and touching his face I told him it was a lot better and I could actually kiss him now without hurting myself.

I do not really remember much about that night or what we did as much as our first date, besides what I am about to describe. Again, he played with me, I touched him, and it got to a point where I finally said, “ok let’s have sex now,” caught by surprise he said “what?” I reiterated I wanted to have sex with him and go to my bedroom. He said he didn’t have condoms, I told him I did. That was that. Shrimp definitely was NOT a shrimp, when we were actually at the point of penetration, it felt a lot bigger. I did not climax but enjoyed myself, and he was attentive, gentle, and communicative. As a joke, he said “good girl” to me, referencing my story to him regarding Dan*. I laughed and playfully nudged him. Similar to Ethan*, compatible sex can only grow feelings. We cuddle, re-clothe, and return to the couch for a while. When he leaves I verify he’s reached home safely before passing out.

In the morning we text each other our good mornings and I tell him I’m glad we didn’t wait. He mentions how great it was and that he’s turned on by thinking about it. I tell him the options of masturbation, bringing “that dick over here,” or a cold shower. Jokingly he says the latter before sending a follow up “just kidding.” He is taking a shower before coming over. I too am going to take a shower, so I let him know the door is unlocked. I hear the front door opening as I am finishing up my shower. I yell out to him that I’m in the shower and he comes to my room. More or less since I’m already naked, we go straight to business. He ate me out, as that is something that he really enjoys doing before having sex. We spend more time together before I more or less kick him out since a plumber is supposed to come by and I am getting my hair done.

Later on, we have a conversation about condoms, he expresses it’s difficult to stay erect with them and I let him know that later down the line we don’t have to use it because of my IUD. He says “Look we’ll stop using them when YOU want to.” I describe to him I am not a fan of them necessarily but the pros and cons. We have more sex talk then immediately segue to sports. I joke that he had better luck with his sports bets before we started having sex. He claims no sex until the end of football season, with another quick “jk.” I am told I wouldn’t make it, I respond that he wouldn’t make it. At this point, we have seen each other three days in a row. I express to him again that I like him.

Monday comes along and both of our appointments go well more or less. They’ve found an abscess in his tooth and he was about to get a root canal to clean it out that day. He mentions he’s driving by my work. For some reason he didn’t think I was there, so missed the opportunity for him to have stopped by. Later that day, I finally feel confident enough to start showing off his Instagram to my co-workers and show them this guy I’ve been talking to. Upon showing one coworker his photo, she says “wait…. I know him!” Turns out she went to middle school and high school with him; they were friends in middle school before he started being a bad boy in high school. My other coworker keeps yelling as a joke that she and I are Eskimo sisters.

We make a plan Tuesday for him to help me swap out my cars, a very nice gesture I appreciate. Consistently he let me know his head is bothering him, an ailment that plagues him constantly. At this point, I don’t have his address, despite him having had mine for a while. I pick him up and we take care of the swap. After the swap, we go back to my place and I flip flop about what we are gonna eat for dinner. Finally, decide on Outback Steakhouse. I insist on paying to thank him for helping me today, something he has never had a girl do for him.

Not much in between, we spend Wednesday night together again and have a sleepover scheduled for Thursday. Wednesday he says something about seeing me in 11 business days, which for whatever reason rubs me kind of the wrong way. When Thursday comes, he, unfortunately, bails since he isn’t feeling good. Friday I made a joke about seeing him for 11 business days. I had promised to give him Hulu logins and a profile, I just needed to get to his place. I mention I am watching the new episode of The Boys on Amazon Prime, we have inside jokes about it, quoting lines like “lazer my tits” and later, “Fuck Fresca.” He gets “upset” that I watched it without him (I did not know we were supposed to watch things together). I asked “was I supposed to wait for you lol,” he says he thought that we would watch it together while eating lunch together. Also didn’t know we were getting lunch together. I came over, watched the episode again, and then we went to McAllister’s for lunch. When we are at his place, we get into sexcapades, with sex brain logic, I decide now is good enough to no longer use condoms. Not to be sketchy at all, and he mentions he feels bad shooing me away after sex, but he has to pack and get ready to stay at his parents’ for the weekend. He plans on Sunday that he is gonna come back after a 1pm football game, and wants to make me dinner at my place. He used to be a sous chef and is quite a talent at that, so out of everything and anything that I could want or have from a real chef, all I want is sloppy joes. We go back and forth on different real dishes he could make, risotto, chicken marsala with pasta, but in the end, I end with sloppy joes. I don’t expect really to hear much of him since he is hanging out with his family for the weekend before Sunday. But I am wrong.

[winterirondiscord]

WI Discord Staycation Crew 3 Word Prompt Game!

As part of last week’s Pride celebration, the Staycation Crew played a game!  And here are the fascinating results...

Rules: create a fic summary using the three prompted words

Perfection, book worm, a Wish - @psychiccatpanda 

Finally, Bucky's got an evening to himself - no team dinners, no therapy appointments, no Steve wanting to work out - just quiet. Perfect. He picked up his book again - a Hercule Poirot mystery. So sue him - Agatha Christie was fantastic - and he was just getting to the good part. Please, let me finish this in peace. Then came the knock on his door.

 Missed connections, World Map, Impulsive - @journeythroughtherain

When Tony took his first vacation in three years, he decided, to his PA's great despair, to scrap all of his pre-scheduled travelling plans and throw a dart on a world map to figure out his destination.

When he gets there, he does it again, and then again. He enjoys his freedom and the exhilaration of never knowing where he'll be going next, until a chance meeting on the Trans-Siberian Railway makes him wonder if he's finally found somewhere - someone - he wants to go home to at the end of his journey.

Now he's only got to figure out who the fascinating man that captivated his heart and mind was, and where to find him again. Unfortunately, he's only got his first name to go on - James.

 Bunny, Perfect recipe, naughty - @rise-up-ting-ting-like-glitter

Bucky Barnes was happy to have his past as an assassin behind him. Things were different now. He was part of team, had a cat, a boyfriend, a steady job, and was dangerously close to overdose on domestic bliss. He wasn’t bored. He just wanted more. He’d cleared it with Tony, a little magic in the kitchen to spice up their sex life would be fun. Bucky discovers that the package's slogan—you’ll fuck like rabbits!—was literal when he’s left with a bunny where his boyfriend used to be.

 Heroic gesture, trust, crosshairs - @jamesbuckystark

An evil villain has attacked and has a chemical that can decimate 75% of Earth’s population if released into the air. The machine is ready to be put into operation�� he just needs to enter a code. The Avengers retaliate, but the villain has caught Tony and is using him as a human shield. Bucky has a shot, but he has Tony in the crosshairs. He knows Tony trusts him to make the best decisions, but does he trust Bucky enough to let him shoot?

 Shadows, Mirror mirror, shaking - @fightingforcreativity

Tony wasn't overly fond of the twilight hours. Shadows were drawn long and taunting, noises resonating throughout the old manor. He hated this manor with a passion, wasn't even sure why he was here.

'Stupid Honeybear and his stupid ideas about responsibility'

Rhodey had told him more often than not that Tony ought to look into the old family manor in the black forest. " 'Tony, he said, you need to know what you own and what not' yadayada."

Tony grumbled while also trying to contain the shivering. It was abnormal cold in this manor and even the heating system made unholy noises.

A little later, just as the twilight turned to darkness, Tony reached his room for the night. His fingers were shaking- why the hell were they shaking?- when he opened the door. He took a couple steps in and passed mirrors. Why a room needed more than one was beyond Tony. As soon as Tony reached the bed, he shrugged out of his clothes and- there another noise. He shrugged the uneasiness off and laid down. Just as he turned away from the mirror, he caught a glance of his reflection.

Problem was... Tony knew his reflection. And those grey eyes were not his.

 Dead plants,  resurface, fairy tales - @rebelmeg

"You had one job."

That's all the warning Prince Tony Stark gets before his best friend and Captain of the Guard, Bucky Barnes was flinging a flowerpot at his head. He ducked just in time, and the dead plant thudded to the floor with a shower of dirt and the broken remains of the flowerpot.

"Oh yeah... I was supposed to water that...."

"I WAS ONLY GONE FOR THREE DAYS, HOW DID YOU MANAGE TO KILL IT ALREADY?" Bucky threw his helmet next, and it ricocheted off the wall, narrowly missing Tony as he dodged out of the way.

"I'm sorry! But really, I think you're overreacting! It's just a plant!"

"NO IT'S NOT! That plant was symbolic of a peace treaty between us and the dryads that control the eastern woods!"

"The, uh.... scary woods outside that window there?"

"Yep."

"Oh. Well.... oops?"

Tony didn't plan on having to go on a quest to save his idiot friend from the wrath of the tree spirits, but, well... he's done worse things.

 Dirty laundry, unrequited love, curtain - @camichats

Rhodey walked in, paused, and considered walking right back out. Tony was standing on the arms of a chair, lifted up on his tiptoes, doing… something to the curtains. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I spilled coffee on them.”

“So? You’ve got a cleaning service.” Rhodey took a tentative step further in the apartment.

“These are Bucky’s curtains.” He emphasized Bucky’s name like Rhodey didn’t already know who he was from hearing Tony pine over him ever since they became roommates-- or, in one horrific instance, hear Tony basically write an entire erotica based on what he wanted Bucky to do to him after his morning run.

“And?”

“And they were his mother’s and he loves these things more than life itself, so I can’t let him know that I got them dirty because he will hate me, and I can’t wait until the cleaning service comes by because they come here on Wednesday’s and it’s Friday.” He whooped triumphantly when he got them down. “So, all I have to do is stick them in the laundry and put them back up and he’ll never know, and he can go on to hate me for more reasonable things like waking him up in the middle of the night with my music and never doing my half of the dishes.”

 Drop dead, hair, just say no - @jamesbuckystark

“Ugh. Your cat just coughed up a hairball on my lap.” Tony shudders.

Bucky laughs. “Sorry. Just chuck it in the trash can. I’m sure Alpine won’t mind that you don’t keep his gift.”

“Excuse me?” Tony looks at him, horrified. “It’s hair. From your cat's

mouth. You take

care of it.”

“C'mon Tones, you won’t drop dead from touching it.”

“Get. It. Off. Me. Now.”

Bucky is now concerned, seeing the rigidity of Tony’s back. “Ok I’ll get it. Do you not like Alpine? If you don’t want me to keep him, you can just say no. I’m sure I can get Becca to keep him for me.”

In which Bucky gets a cat, and Tony’s a little unsure.

 Refreshed, cozy night, Earpiece - @rebelmeg

All Tony wanted was a quiet night in. That was it. A nice hot shower, maybe a bath if he was feeling fancy, and his favorite pizza on the couch while he watched the original version of Star War, as nature intended. Unfortunately, he walks out of the bathroom, swathed in a towel and feeling all kinds of refreshed and ready for his cozy night in, to see an earpiece sitting on the bed with a post-it note by it.

"SOS. Need your help. -Bucky"

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me..."