#I won’t be doing anything on Sunday other than cleaning though!

[lansolot]

Art coming soon. Hopefully. I’ve just been incredibly busy this past week 😔

[pinkaditty]

Who's Passing NNN? Tokyo Debunker

sigh

a/n: this is extremely low effort but in my defense im pretty sure i was drugged on halloween. *ahem* originally this was SUPPOSED to be low effort but clearly i got way too into it. anyways. i’ve been working a lot lately which is why i don’t have many works out rn! i work weekdays from 8 in the MORNING so it’s a lot going on but i use what little free time i have yk? ntm i have MULTIPLE projects im also working on 4 a different site so it’s a lot. i don’t think anyone’s gonna read this but im working on being a vtuber so its lots of prep lmfao! and with that, my weekends are mostly spent sleeping or with friends, but i really enjoy my work. ill be going back 2 school eventually so i need 2 figure out how the hell im gonna make that work, but i will. amen. pray 4 me y’all. oh also reqs r still being worked on i promise. just gotta get this fucking schedule under wraps.  anyways. this came 2 me on a random sunday (betraying the lord as usual) and i decided. lets write porn. i wanna do something silly bc my friends have been panicking abt climate change and its rubbing off on me. amen! quick disclaimer that i write these under the assumption the tokyo debunker boys are at least 18 years old. they appear to be present at a university considering there are professors and a chancellor. not to mention the boys drink, smoke, gamble, and refer to themselves as adults.

summary: who out of the tokyo debunker boys will pass nnn? who will fail? cliche i know but let me have this

cw: jerking off i guess. mc mentioned but no physical appearance described. MINORS DNI!!!!!!! Frostheim || Vagastrom || Jabberwock || Sinostra || Hotarubi || Obscuary || Mortkranken (before you ask vagastrom and jabberwock r already written jus not posted yet)

MINORS DNI AS PER USUAL TY FOR RESPECTING MY BOUNDARY!

Frostheim:

Jin Kamurai: Pass

Pretty touch and go with this guy. He’s never heard of it before, so when it’s a sudden trend around campus, he’s not visibly piqued, but he is… interested. Outwardly, he’d think it’s absolutely fucking ridiculous. Inwardly? He’d want to do it to prove something to himself. Of course, on the rare occasion he has an odd dream… well, he prioritizes his own pleasure over some pathetic game. 

He finally wakes up from a rather interesting he just had after lounging around and avoiding his work. You’re supposed to be coming soon to drop off some documents. Maybe that’s why you were in his dream. Hmph… What, he dreams of his… servants, now? Rolling over proves to be a challenge when his half-hard cock jumps at the slightest shift of his sheets. Now this? Well, he won’t hesitate to take care of it. A simple pillow will do the trick. In mere moments he’s humping into a large pillow, burying his face in one end and thrusting his hardening clothed cock in the other end. The friction more than satisfies his needs. He’s so focused on it that his vision swims, most of his body going slack except for his arms squeezing the pillow taut to his chest and his hips insistently searching deeper, warmer, and wishing for wetter, tighter. When it’s all over, and his focused expression melts into a slack-jawed, bleary-eyed one, he knows he’d much rather stay here, in his sheets. His warm, sticky release, however, will eventually turn uncomfortably cold, and he knew you were on your way. 

Tohma Ishibashi: Pass

He’s participating because he knows Jin is participating. That’s really all there is to it. He’s not interested in any clout or anything, just thinks it’s funny. He doesn’t do this too frequently, but often enough to keep his rocks off, you know? Sometimes, though, he doesn’t really get any free time for months cleaning up after Jin, so… It’s those times that are more interesting. 

He tries rather hard to go slow for the sake of savoring it, but fails miserably - it’s been months, after all. His uniform is much too hot to be doing this in, but god forbid he waits another minute. A sweaty collar and cum-stained slacks could be washed, anyway. Despite starting with slow strokes, before he knows it, his hand is wrapped around his dick, rubbing furiously like there’s no tomorrow. His other hand claws into the bedsheets beneath him, pulling them every which way. His face contorts into a number of different expressions: his jaw clenched tight and his eyes narrowed harshly, or his jaw slack with his tongue lolling out and his eyes rolling to the back of his skull, or even his lips pressed tight together to stifle moans with his eyes screwed shut just as well. Regardless, he’s enjoying himself and desperately trying to keep a hold of himself. Finally, when the wave of pleasure comes, he presses his face into his pillow, knowing it’s hopeless to attempt to keep quiet. He spills more than he intends every single time, and when he collapses on himself, feels his dampened body melt into his equally dampened sheets. His hair is disheveled, his uniform is sloppy, and his monocle slips off his face. Fuck. He’d have some washing to do. 

Lucas Errant: Pass

Do you think this guy masturbates? Like genuinely? I don’t doubt it but I think if he was challenged to go a month without it he’d manage fine. I think, at best, he does it when he’s so fucking exhausted from studying that he can’t focus. 

Like, he’s studying one night. An itch makes itself known, but it’s easily suppressed. He smoothly focuses on his work. The itch rises again. He ignores it again. His leg begins to twitch. He ignores it even more. His leg starts bouncing without him realizing it. He presses a hand down on his knee, purposely avoiding touching his thighs, and attempts once again to focus on his work. The itch spreads, reaching from his groin to his legs, slowly crawling up his back. He still stifles it and forces his eyes to absorb the words on the paper of the book in front of him. The itch reaches his neck, creeping up his spine to his face. Suddenly, he’s flushed, and he realizes that, despite his best efforts, here he sits: half-hard, not absorbing the information in the book, his breathing heavy and his vision swimming. Damn! He allows himself the slightest freedom, knowing that will lead him to the gates of release whether he wants that or not. When he’s covered in his own sticky release a few minutes later, clarity hits him at last. He bites his lip and suppresses a groan as he stuffs himself back into his pants, shaking his head to rid himself of the cloudy orgasmic feeling. Finally, back to work. 

That being said, November is a cinch… unless this happens. 

Kaito Fuji: Fail

I don’t need to explain myself I think lol! Horniest virgin on the face of the earth. Yes, he fails, to thoughts of you, at that! I’m even willing to bet the one time he tries, he fails accidentally via wet dream. Sucker! It’s surprising, though… When he puts his mind to it, he really can keep his hands off himself… for less than a month. 

It’s late at night and he’s not studying, rather rolling around in his bed, back and forth, trying to resist the insistence of his cock, pressing into the mattress at full mast. He huffs face first into his pillow, feeling his cock strain against his underwear. He could stand this for a little longer. Just a little longer… November just started, sure, but if he beat his record of one week, that’d be accomplishment enough for him. He has to resist the urge to whine as he rolls over again, his cock pressing and pressing and pressing against all things within reach. He rips the covers off of him, frustrated, feeling warm from the heat of his arousal anyway. He could get through this, right? His fingers grip his shirt collar, bunching it into his fist. His other hand gripped his phone, as though using it to ground himself. He shifted the screen to his face. Maybe he’d be able to find something to take his mind off of things. He opens WickChat and scrolls, searching for a distraction. However, the gods must be against him, because all he can do is open his chat with you, and pretend you’d sent him nudes. He tosses his phone back onto his bed, clenching his hand into another fist before it could drift any further towards his groin. He bites furiously on his fingernails, burying his face into his pillows. His cock continued to beg for attention. 

a/n: well, i hope u enjoyed! im so tired and i have work in 6 hours. goodnight lmfao!

note that i appreciate likes, comments, and reblogs!! im not open for reqs atm, but please feel free to just hop in 2 give little random thirsts or something, i don't mind!

[inquisitornocturn]

NSFW alphabet no.1 - Andrei

We got first in line and it's Archbishop Andrei from VtMB, kindly requested by @porcelainseashore! Thank you <3 This was tons of fun and honestly can't wait to write out the others.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Assuming he’s been in a relationship for a while (or what he considers a relationship), Andrei would definitely be the one to let his partner rest and recuperate, especially after the things he has done to you. It would lead to caresses, reassurances from him that his lover performed well, and maybe some blood to replenish the stamina and recover from any ouchies that might have happened.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Andrei is not the one to hide or shy away, and as a Tzimisce he knows how to draw attention and show just what he is capable of, therefore he likes his face the most and puts it to good use, having his lover ride it as much as possible. He might even smoothen out a feature or two to accommodate you in such endeavor, but only if he’s in a very giving mood. In a partner Andrei would like your waist, always having his hands on your torso, be it during sex or otherwise, always having a guiding hand on the small of your back in a both possessive and appreciative manner.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Saying this man is fond of giving facials doesn’t quite cut it. Definitely a kink for him to see your face doused in his cum, and it can quite often get Andrei worked up again almost immediately. If you do it enthusiastically and readily, Andrei might even start carrying wet wipes to help his lover afterwards to look presentable, cleaning your face himself.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Andrei has a bit of a peeping fetish, especially when it comes to his partner. He will sneak a look through a cracked door or through a shower cabin glass while you are unaware, just to see you act without his presence nearby. He most enjoys seeing you touch yourself without knowing that he’s watching (even though you totally do know it and grant him such a show on occasion).

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Very experienced with double underline. He’s been around for a while and for someone with experimental nature that comes from being a Tzimisce, Andrei tried near everything that there is to try under the sun. However, he does have his preferences, but if you want to try something – Andrei will definitely comply and show you how to do it safely and in the most exciting way, wanting nothing more than to share his expertise with his lover.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

His partner on top. He enjoys being able to see the muscles move, the skin pull and each and every smallest movement of your form as you ride him. This way he can also allow his hands roam anywhere he wants and he does it liberally.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Andrei can be quite serious, especially if he’s in a “teaching” mood, where he shows his partner something new or introduces them to toys, etc, just to make sure that you follow his words exactly, but in more casual situations, like a lazy Sunday midnight, he can be more joking and relaxed, teasing you about the weakness of your flesh if you run out of stamina a little too soon.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Depends on a mood for Andrei. Sometimes he prefers to have a trimmed bush, but most often he goes without any simply because it’s easier to not have hair on him. Maintenance of such frivolities are only executed when he’s utterly bored out of his mind and that happens extremely rarely.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s truly very into it whether he’s teaching his lover something new or having a lazy fuck. Andrei’s whole attention is on you and won’t drift until the session is fully done, aftercare included. No matter if it’s a quick fuck somewhere semi-public or a relaxed dawn in your shared haven, his attention is on you and only you, including a lot of reassurances, guiding words and praises.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Rarely does it and sex does not interest him at all unless it’s with his chosen companion. Cheating is not even a concept for Andrei because he has his lover and that’s all he needs or wants, focusing rather on his work, flesh shaping and the like, so he only touches himself if you specifically request it of him. He also prefers to keep himself for the moment he can get relief with his lover, quite enjoying feeling pent up until he has his hands on you again.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Bondage and all kinds of restraints, either on him or his partner, get him going like nothing else. Leashes, handcuffs, leg-spreaders, you name it – he has it, and will enthusiastically use them. Andrei also has a bit of a CNC kink, enjoying to make you appear scared and submissive, only to see how far he can push you, but he won’t go too far unless you explicitly tell him to, but he will always prefer a very open-minded partner versus someone less eager to explore new avenues.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Somewhere where he can take his time, for sure. Considering Andrei is much into binding, he can make do on the go, but most ideally he can take it slow and without a rush because it’s one of his ways to unwind and completely relax. It’s his and your time and he doesn’t want anyone ruining it or interrupting it, even if you can tease him and entice him to take risks outside the privacy of the haven.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your teasing nature. He’s naturally pretty composed in night-to-night life, but he’s weak when it comes to his partner. There would need to be a very serious, very urgent situation for him to be completely disinterested if you suggest something naughty, but then you would know better than to ask for sex. Andrei folds easily for compliments and touches, although one lusty look from you could have him pulling you into his arms, especially is you act a little bratty and don’t give in right away after he begins showing interest.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Andrei would never use sex as punishment or torture. While he does enjoy CNC, the consensual aspect of it is what truly works for him vs not having it. He has no time to enact such cruelty onto his enemies because he does not desire them carnally and he would have no interest in continuing a sexual situation if his partner is not fully into it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Both. Andrei loves giving as much as receiving. Ride his face or sit on the edge of the desk, in a bed or on the floor, doesn’t matter as long as he can put his face between your legs and his mouth on you to make his partner gasp and whimper. Same goes for him, whenever you’re in a mood and on your knees – he will eagerly let you have your taste, being extremely fond of the eye contact the entire time.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual. For a man who likes to take his time with all things refined – sex is definitely one of those things. He also prefers to have several sessions, lasting hours, until his lover and he are so spent neither of you have any needs unmet. But it depends on you how often these happen because while he reciprocates eagerly, Andrei is still more focused on other things than just carnal pleasures, his attention easily being occupied by own’s tasks and goals, from which you need to encourage him to take his mind off, so when that happens – he definitely take his time.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Andrei definitely partakes in them and indulges you when you wish for them, but it’s not his favorite. He will initiate them from time to time, if your teasing gets that bad to him, but even then he will try to take as much time as reasonably possible, just to ensure your knees are weak and you’re fully satisfied, at least until he can have you somewhere without any interruptions.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As mentioned before – Andrei loves to experiment and eagerly will partake in anything you might suggest, expecting the same from you. Trying new things is one of this favorite things to do with a partner and gets his blood proverbially pumping. He also likes all kinds of games and chase for the goal, so if you can come up with something that will keep his attention with a reward of trying something he wanted to try with you for a long while – you have made this kindred effectively very happy.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

How long can you last is the right question. Andrei will go as long as you wish, drawing stamina from seemingly thin air. How – you don’t have a clue and he won’t tell you, liking to keep you in suspense at least about something when it comes to bedroom adventures. In the end, he will always reassure you that he’s thoroughly satisfied even if he never looks more exhausted or tired than you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Very much into toys, Andrei likes to see just how much you can take, overstimulation is something he seeks on almost all occasions. He will also let you use them on him, always being intrigued if you can show him something new or make him experience a new type of sensation. And if you prove yourself to be eager and willing to learn, he will even show things that only his clan can do.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Only teasing when he already has his cock in you and otherwise does not tease at all, but that leaves him vulnerable to your own teasing, that gets him going more often than he would admit, although you know that very well yourself.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not loud at all, preferring to whisper. He doesn’t need to breathe and he won’t indulge in simulating it either just for show, so generally he’s the quiet type, but he can speak during sex and he will, from praises to encouragements, to instructions, he won’t stop talking, it’s just you won’t hear him grunt or moan at all.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

You don’t need two men for double penetration when Andrei is with you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Honestly, whatever he wants to have going at almost any given moment. As a flesh-shaper he generally keeps his cock human enough for practical reasons, but if you kindly ask him for something a little extra (and ask very very nicely) he will indulge you with gusto. Just don’t be surprised if he enjoys stuffing you beyond your capabilities because “you asked for it” after all.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He matches sex drive of his partner. If he has someone with him who’s not interested in sex then Andrei won’t be interested himself and he won’t feel like he’s missing out on anything either, rather turning his attention to what he has rather than what not. And if his partner is very sexually active, then you will need to entice him, but he will almost never refuse you and will enjoy it thoroughly. He’s a man who adapts easily.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If the dusk is not coming any time soon, he will stay awake watching you, analyzing every single thing on your face and body, and just generally enjoying his time with you in his arms, but otherwise he will still be second to go into slumber, no matter how early it is. You just won’t likely find him by your side when the dawn comes, busying himself with whatever research he might be doing or some other business, but Andrei will still give you a kiss whenever you join him.

[something-tofightfor]

The Truth Is Out There: One Breath

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Art Conservator/Restoration Specialist FBI Agent

Word Count: 4,065

Chapter Rating: M (language, unintentional drug use, Teresa)

Series Warnings: Sex Pollen (with a twist), no use of Y/N, female reader insert, Reader works for the FBI in art restoration/conservation and has a nickname that is used often by Marcus. In this house we cannot stand Teresa and Jane and that is reflected in this story.

Summary:  Marcus might be getting his day off, but that doesn’t mean you also get to take a break. Instead, a new assignment comes in ... and changes everything. 

Author’s Note: Here’s where things really start to pick up. Thank you all so damn much for the response to part 1 yesterday, I’m floored. I hope you like this one, too. 

i’m playing fast and loose with a lot of things: mainly the way the FBI operates and what other agencies they closely interact with. Forgive me if the details aren’t 100% accurate.

Inbox is open, as always. Thank you for reading!

Masterlist / Unrequited

On Monday morning, you got to work a few minutes early. Heading to your office, you made it a point not to look at Marcus’ closed door when you passed it. Not today.

He hadn’t reached out on Sunday, though the message you’d sent him had been read at 7:42 am - which meant that he’d gotten less than four hours of sleep before opening it. 

Part of you wanted to know  that he was upset about the way you’d left things, too. 

Confirmation that your words had actually gotten to him and that he’d rethought his meeting with Teresa would have been welcome. You wanted to know that somewhere, deep down, Marcus’ feelings were similar to yours when it came to the relationship that the two of you had - and what else might have been possible. 

But that won’t happen. You sighed as you dropped your bag onto your desk and then removed your jacket, settling in and turning on your laptop. 

Starting a playlist, you returned your attention to the unfinished stack of paperwork from Saturday night and tried to keep the memory of Marcus standing on the sidewalk out of your thoughts. Otherwise I won’t get anything done.

That worked until a little after noon, when you took a break to eat lunch.

Carrying a stack of paperwork to drop off with your SSA, you finally glanced at the man’s office door. There was a sign taped to it, his neat handwriting letting everyone know he’d be available again the following day. He’s so considerate that he handwrote a note instead of printing one. The corners of your mouth lifted in a small smile, and despite the residual anger you felt toward Marcus, you couldn’t deny that it was true. 

You fielded questions about Marcus while you ate lunch with some of your coworkers - “Do you know where he is?” Is he out of town with someone? How do you know he’s not dating anyone?” - by giving vague answers. But their questions made you wonder - not for the first time - if part of Marcus’ hesitation about taking things further had anything to do with the fact that you worked together, and he didn’t want to repeat his past mistakes. That’d be my luck.

The vibration of your phone interrupted your meal just as a colleague attempted to change the subject. When you pulled it out to see who was trying to get ahold of you, you groaned, the other people at your table halting their conversations immediately. “What’s up? That your work phone?” 

“Yeah.” You tucked it back into your bag and stood, reaching for your trash. “They brought in some paintings I need to take a look at, so I guess I’ve gotta get back.” And that means you can’t grill me about  him anymore. 

You said goodbye and then made your way back into the building and up to your floor, bypassing the main office and heading for the wing of clean rooms you spent the majority of your time in. 

Everything you’d need was in there, and you grinned at the sight of Ethan, the department’s newest Agent leaning against one of the hallway walls with his arms crossed. “There you are.” He straightened up, gesturing to the room closest to the far end of the wing. “Couple crates of paintings got delivered this morning. We found ‘em when some sort of gambling ring got busted yesterday.”

“Why didn’t they have us come to the scene?” You followed the man into the room, reaching for a pair of gloves and pulling them on after you’d deposited your bag onto the counter. “Aren’t these evidence?”

“Something about the house they found them in being structurally unsound. Wasn’t safe to have people going in and out just to look around, so they shipped ‘em here. They want you to do your thing, and if they end up being stolen or forged … you get to let the people in charge know so they can tack on more in their investigation” 

“Well thank whoever made that decision for us.” You reached for the lid of the first crate, lifting it off and then leaning it against the table leg. “I love my job, but if I can look at things here where I have all my shit and a comfortable place to sit…” He laughed then, pulling on a pair of gloves of his own. “There’s just these two crates?”

“Yeah, there was some other art in the house but the local police just said that it looked like standard stuff - already on the wall, cheap… you know what I mean.” Humming in agreement, you pulled the first painting out and held it up in both hands, scanning the image.  It’s definitely not old. 

“Not a very good artist on this one.” Wrinkling your nose, you lowered it back into the crate and reached for the second painting, fingers closing around the frame to lift it. “Or this one. I’ll still need to take pictures of them all and upload them to the missing and stolen artwork database, but I don’t think there’s going to be any hits.” 

“Are they all boats?” Ethan pulled the lid off the second crate and reached in, pulling a painting up and then laughing. “Nevermind. This one’s a plane. And there’s a train, too.” 

“So we’ve got a collection of modes of transportation and …” You hummed in amusement, lifting another painting and turning it toward the man, wincing. “And trees.” 

“Got some water in here, too. I think this one’s the ocean.” Ethan slid the painting he was holding back in, and then turned to look at you, nose wrinkled. “So they’re just… generic paintings, then? 

“Looks like it.” You used the back of one gloved hand to rub at your forehead. “I can handle this on my own, Ethan. It’ll probably take about two hours to get everything photographed and sent through to the database, and I can finish taking samples by the end of the day so we can get these back to … whoever wants them. Maybe Goodwill. Maybe a dumpster. Who knows.” He snorted. “I appreciate you letting me know they came in, though. If you get anymore information while I’m in here, feel free to come back and update me.”

“Will do.” He snapped his gloves off and then moved to the sink, washing his hands. “Want me to get in touch with Pike? I know he’s off today, but he might want to know about this.” He would. He would love to know about these even though they’re nothing special. 

“No. He’ll catch up when he comes back.” You returned your attention to the crate, frowning. “I’ve got this.” The younger man agreed, and moments later you were alone in the room, the quiet hiss of the filtration system above you the only noise you heard. Should I call Marcus? 

Stepping back, you took your gloves off, too, and headed for the cabinets where your equipment was stored. Busying yourself with getting what you needed, you let your mind wander again. It was no surprise when it went back to Marcus - and the fight you’d had. If he wanted to think about work today, he’d be here. 

Pulling your phone out, you restarted your playlist and then put on new gloves, returning your attention to the first crate. It didn’t take you long to photograph all fifteen paintings, carefully making a list to identity what was what. 

The longer you worked, the more certain you were that they wouldn’t come up as stolen or forged when you cross-referenced them, but you knew that you had to go through the whole routine with every canvas anyway. Who would waste their time forging these?

Measurements, photos, a short description of each one, and a tiny scraping of the paint were standard procedure when you investigated art - and the set you were working with was no different. It didn’t take you long to settle into a routine with each painting, your focus entirely on what was in front of you.

But when you laid one of the canvases on the table to scrape the sample, you noticed a pale, shimmering blue powder sprinkled on the metal surface around it. Weird. Collecting a sample of that, too, you made a note of which painting you’d found it with and then moved onto the next one. 

When the powder appeared three paintings in a row, though, you stood and stepped back from the table, lips pressed together. It doesn’t have the consistency of paint, it looks more like … Eyes moving to your phone, you debated over calling Marcus - or just alerting the SSA, since he was already likely in the building. But Marcus needs to know, too. 

You pulled both gloves off, tossing them into the trash and picking up the device. There was only a slight hesitation before you dialed Marcus’ number and held it to your ear, waiting. He didn’t answer, which you expected. As you heard his cheerful voice inviting you to leave a message, you almost hung up - though you stopped yourself at the last second. 

And then it beeped. 

“Hey, Marcus. It’s me. Um, I know you’re off today and I’m sorry to call your personal number, but … we got a new case, and I thought it was going to be some easy cataloging of a bunch of crappy paintings. But, I’m going through them now, and I think … I think they’re being used to smuggle drugs somehow. I know I need to let Cavanaugh know. He’s my next call, but I wanted to tell you first.” You took a breath, stepping further away from the table, though you didn’t look away. “I’m in CR3, and since I’ve already been in here with no mask on, if it is drugs, or even something else they can’t identify right away, I’ll probably need to isolate for a day or two until they figure out what it is and how they can help me.” Wrap it up. “You don’t have to call back. I just wanted you to know before I do a test because who knows what they’ll tell you when you get back in tomorrow.” 

You hung up then, not even bothering to say goodbye, and eyed the table warily. It should have been easy. These were just supposed to be terrible paintings. Grabbing another pair of gloves - and a mask, you headed back for the table with one of the field test kits and two more small specimen bags. 

It only took you a few seconds to complete the test, scraping some of the powder into the baggies and breaking the liquid vials open before shaking them back and forth. No reason to tell anyone else if it doesn’t come back positive. It could just be dust from the paint or from the way they were stored. 

You felt relief when the recommended amount of time had passed and there was no color change with the kit. Maybe it’s just chalk. Sighing, you sat back down at the table and continued to work, focused on the task at hand. I shouldn’t have called Marcus. That was a knee jerk reaction. Three paintings - and no additional blue dust - later, you took the mask off, setting it aside. 

Flipping the painting of the ocean over, you scanned the back looking for any sort of identifying marks and frowned when you saw that one of the canvas staples was loose, immediately reaching for it. It’s just a coincidence. That’s all. With your fingertip poised to push the staple back in, you paused, chewing on your lower lip. Or… 

Using a small set of pliers, you removed that staple - as well as all of the others on that painting, and then carefully lifted the frame from atop the canvas, eyes glued to the sight in front of you. “Oh, no.” Standing, you backed away from the table - your eyes wide. Shit. 

Scrambling for the phone that was hanging on the  wall, you dialed Cavanaugh’s office, the man picking up on the second ring. “Hey, it’s me.” You sighed, keeping your eyes on your workspace. “I’m in CR3, and I think … I think we have a problem. You might want to call our drug guys or the DEA.” 

“What?” He sounded incredulous. “Ethan told me -” 

“Yeah, well I was wrong. I started cataloging stuff and there was some sort of weird powder on some of the paintings, and I tested it. It didn’t change color or anything, so I kept working and ended up finding a loose staple on the back of another one.” You paused, swallowing hard. “There’s um… there’s bags of whatever it is hidden in hollow portions of the frames, and some of them broke because they got caught on splinters or nails or something sticking out of the wood, Cavanaugh. Whatever was in them, I’ve been breathing it in for the last hour and a half in some capacity.” 

“You didn’t have a mask on?” 

“Not the whole time. I put one on after I saw the powder, but when it tested negative, I took it off.” Stupid. It was stupid of me. “That’s my fault, and I’ll rake full responsibility for that, but it is what it is at this point.” He swore on the other end of the line, and for a few seconds, was silent. 

“Are you alright? I’m going to call the DEA right now. I wish I could tell you to get out of that room, but -” 

“I feel OK so far. I know I can’t leave. And if it was possible to completely seal this room, I would have done it already, but until you get here, the only other person that knows where I am is Ethan, so I think we’re alright as long as you keep anyone else from coming down here.” 

He sighed, the sound loud through the speaker. “See you in a few minutes, Agent.” 

You hung up, replacing the phone on the wall and then turned back toward the table. I need to grab my phone. I need to get my stuff and get it ready to leave. Pulling another mask from the box even though you didn’t know what good it would do, you stepped toward the table, eyes on the bags and loose powder. I should have been more careful. I shouldn’t have just -  

Your thoughts were interrupted when the door hissed open behind you, a voice calling out your name. “I came as soon as I got your message.” Oh no. You shouldn’t be here. 

“Marcus, wait. You need to turn around and leave.” The mask fell from your hand, your head whipping toward him as you spun on one heel. “Don’t get too close, it’s some kind of drug, and -” 

He tripped as he crossed the sparkling clean floor, and then everything seemed to happen in slow motion. 

The man’s eyes widened, the toe of one sneakered foot sliding along the surface as he tried to find his balance, both arms extended. You reached for him out of instinct, wanting to keep him from toppling to the ground, but Marcus’ weight was too much for you to counter against, and you were caught off-balance, too.

Before you could do anything about it, you were on the floor, a yelp of pain leaving your lips as your tailbone hit the tile. Marcus wasn’t far behind you, but instead of using his hands to brace for impact, he reached for the table and caught the edge of the frame, which was overhanging by a few inches. “Ah, shit!” 

Marcus swore loudly, jerking his hand back as he, too, made contact with the floor. Only seconds later, a cloud of blue dust was floating through the air and the wooden frame clattered to the ground beside you, accompanied by the canvas and a few unbroken baggies of powder. Oh, shit. Before you could stop yourself, you sucked in a breath, eyes widening.

You did the only thing you could do and reached for Marcus, covering his mouth and nose with one of your gloved hands while you did the same to yourself with the other. But there’s no way we didn’t inhale any of it. You finally met his gaze, and you could see the anger in his eyes - along with feeling the clench of his jaw beneath your palm. Oh, Marcus. I’m so sorry.

He raised one hand and when it was in place over yours, you quickly removed your fingers before scrambling backwards until your back hit the wall of cabinets. Marcus followed you, and when you were both as far from the table as you could get, you lowered your hand, breathing hard. Shit. Shit shit shit. I can feel it in my throat.

“I’m so sorry, Scully.” He hung his head. “I got your message and came right here, and when I saw you in the room, I just …” Tilting his head back, he stared up at the ceiling. There’s blue on his face and in his hair. Wonder what mine looks like. “I can’t believe I slipped on the fucking floor, and I should have known better, but -”

“Marcus.” Turning your head toward him, you tried to smile. “I was already in here with it. I’m just sorry that now you’re stuck, too.” Cavanaugh and the DEA will be here soon. It’ll be fine. “It didn’t turn positive for any of the normal stuff, but the way it’s packaged makes me feel like it’s for recreational use, and -” 

“Pike? What are you doing in there? Thought you were off today.” Cavanaugh’s voice came through the speaker and both of you turned your attention to where he stood, arms crossed on the other side of the glass. He looks pissed. “You didn’t say anything about Marcus being with you.” 

“He wasn’t.” Gesturing with one hand, you pointed at the overhead camera. “Watch the footage. You’ll see what happened.” Marcus snorted next to you, reaching up to scrub at his face. On instinct, you stopped him, your gloved fingers closing around his bare ones. “Don’t.” You looked away from the glass and at the man sitting beside you. “We don’t know what it is, and if you rub it in, it might get into your eyes or up your nose or -” You saw the fear in his expression then, Marcus’ lips parted enough so that you could see a peek of his teeth behind them. I’m scared too.

Moments later, he nodded in agreement, letting out a long breath and lowering his chin. When you went to release his hand, though, he didn’t let you, instead spreading his fingers wide and linking them with yours before he squeezed. 

It was the first time you’d held his hand since the two of you had briefly dated, and you knew that you weren’t able to hide the look in your eyes or school the expression on your face into something impassive as he tightened his hold, the man’s touch almost protective as his thumb swiped over your knuckle. I’m still so mad at him but this … fuck. 

“DEA is only a couple minutes away.” Cavanaugh sighed. “I’ve been told to keep an eye on you until they get here. And I hate to be the one to tell you this, but the filtration system got turned off to preserve evidence, so…” You hadn’t even noticed that the room was totally silent, the constant whir of the fan gone. “Are you two alright? How do you feel?” 

“Annoyed.” You shrugged. “I still feel fine, though. I don’t notice any sort of … effect from this, and I’ve been in here a long time.” I’m glad Marcus is here, though. Really glad, even though that’s selfish.

“I feel alright, too.” Marcus shifted next to you, bringing one knee up and reaching out to rest his forearm atop it. “They gonna be able to help us, boss?” There was only a brief flicker of uncertainty from the man outside the room before he nodded, looking between you and Marcus. 

“Of course they are. Hang tight. You’ll be out of there soon.”  You hoped he was right. You wanted to get out of the clothes you had on, into the shower and then into bed. But it won’t be that simple. 

“You really feel alright?” Marcus was eyeing you, the man’s frown deep. “You’re not lying to me?” 

“No. But I am scared. Who knows how long whatever this is might take to kick in, or what it’ll do when that happens.” You chewed on your lower lip for a few seconds. “I shouldn’t have called you, Marcus. I guess I just panicked, even though I knew you were busy today. I didn’t mean to ruin your dat… your afternoon.” 

“It wasn’t a date. And you didn’t ruin anything.” He squeezed your hand again, shaking his head slowly. “You really called me first? Thought I wouldn’t hear from you anytime soon after the other night. ” 

“Yeah, I didn’t plan on reaching out to you, but then …I did.” Mindful of the fact that your boss was likely listening in, you decided to keep things vague. “We can talk about it later though, if you want.” He smiled at you then, a genuine one - the expression lighting his face up beneath the dusty blue tint. 

“I want.” You stared at each other for a few seconds, and unless you were imagining things, you caught Marcus’ gaze drop to your mouth before it raised back up, his eyes locked with yours. “What do you think this shit is?” 

“I have no idea. But it’s been almost two hours since I started working with these paintings and I still feel fine, so whatever it is must not be anything that kicks in immediately.” 

“But when did you actually breathe it in?” He blinked slowly, still staring at you. “Because that might make a difference if there was only a little in the air and you weren’t close, compared to what happened when I stumbled in here.” 

“I…” You closed your eyes, thinking. “Right when I called you was when I first saw it on the table. I put a mask on when I went back to test it, though… and then I took it off when everything came back clear. So … I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes before you got here? But it was definitely way more potent when you knocked it off the edge, so…” 

“So whatever it is, we both got the big dose at the same time.” He arched a brow. “About five minutes ago.” He frowned again. “You know, I don’t think blue’s your color.” Gesturing with one finger at your face, Marcus finally cracked a smile. “No, actually… blue is your color, just maybe not this shade. Can’t say the same about that one shirt you have, though, because -”

“Marcus?” Both of your heads snapped up at the sound of a new voice, and you weren’t able to keep from wrinkling your nose and gritting your teeth at the sight of the dark haired woman, pale skin highlighting the green of her eyes. What the fuck is she doing here? “You said you’d be right back, but the DEA guys showed up and I heard them say your name, so I -” 

She stepped back at a flurry of activity, the woman’s attention going to her right - and toward the door to the room. It was delayed, but your hand jerked, and you attempted to pull it free from his hold. Of course. Of course she’s here. Why wouldn’t she be?

He didn’t let go right away - until you whipped your head in his direction, eyes wide. Then, he had no choice, releasing you from his grip and curling his fingers into a loose fist as he brought it back to his lap. 

Before either of you could speak, you heard another voice and saw a trio of people dressed in HAZMAT suits in the hallway, the three of them joined by another pair of men in regular suits and your boss. “DEA’s here, Marcus.” You mumbled the words, closing your eyes. “Time to find out exactly how fucked we are.” 

—

 Tag list reblog coming soon! 

[twilightknight17]

Decision's Eve - Part 1

This time on P3R: My social links are further along than I thought, so that’s enough to keep me from dwelling on our upcoming decision for longer than necessary.

(Also, obviously, this got too long for one post. XD)

Odagiri’s change of heart is coming along very solidly, because the teachers are being completely unreasonable about the whole thing.

Like… Why on earth does this teacher even want me on the suspect list (for the single cigarette)? Do I look or smell like I smoke? Christ.

Although now I’m contemplating the comedic potential of Odagiri getting tossed into Shujin and crumpling even faster.

But if we went to Shujin, how would we get amazing lessons like this?

Also, the dorm is sort of decorated for Christmas, so… Merry Christmas from this dork and his smaller dorks.

Kenji and I go out for ramen to conclude his link. He’s basically thinking out loud, and I chose to say nothing, because this is rank 10 and I don’t have to be nice anymore. XD

Landed myself a cute boy by being myself, actually. But thanks.

Anyway, how are you doing, Kenji?

You’re the one who called yourself dumb! 8D

Somehow, he considers me his best friend, though, and he has a gift for me!

...oh. It’s… uh. It’s a choker?

A choker, though???? What the hell, Kenji. X’’’’D

Time continues to tick by, and Paulownia Mall is decorated for Christmas!!

I’m so glad they take advantage of the dome. That’s so cool. Makes me think about possible little details for fic stuff with the Paulownia family on the Other Side.

But eventually I have to go home, and I guess since nothing is really happening at night, I’ll do some more studying.

...oh my GOD finally. Okay. It’s after finals, but you know, whatever. I can ask Mitsuru to walk home now. Jesus christ it’s taken MONTHS.

Christmas is here, and while I contemplated taking everyone to Tartarus, Ken’s final “social link” event is up, so we’re off to the roof!

First of all, he’s not “that thing”.

Second of all, Ryoji is not going to fight anything like me? I mean I guess changing arcana is like changing personas, but we can’t do that on the roof. Physically, he won’t fight anything like me.

But okay.

It’s time for a Struggle Tournament, I guess.

Merry Christmas to me. I get to beat up a child with a whiffle bat. :D

The day after Christmas, I manage to take Mitsuru out for the first time. Right before winter break, so I won’t be able to rank up any more anytime soon. But this works.

It’s funny, because I knew about the whole “Mitsuru doesn’t know what a hamburger is” joke, but I didn’t realize it extended this far.

She wants to try these new things because she’s never had the chance to have them before, though. So ramen is a good place to start.

Sunday, we skip hanging out with Akinari to rank up Maya instead. But oh no, the servers for the game are going to shut down! Tragic. Maya is upset about this, obviously, and hatches a plan to potentially save her beloved MMO so we don’t lose contact!

You… You mean the logs where you admit to having a crush on your student? Probably not a good idea, and also they’re not going to keep the game running for two people. But okay, I guess. I’m gonna go stare longingly at the photo of my friends and the tower I got in Kyoto with my boyfriend.

There’s REALLY not much to do during winter break. I don’t know why all of my school friends vanish without a trace the instant school lets out. I’m gonna have to time things so much better in NG+ if I want to get all these links done. Mamoru’s only around like 2 days that aren’t Sunday.

But I guess I finally have time to work at the movie theater for the first time.

“Hot Snack” is exactly what I want when I go to the theater. Also, the name of my emo band.

I’ve also been working on Elizabeth’s requests, and I did one where she rewarded me with a cleaning brush that Ken can wield as a weapon.

But the next quest is…

:/

Liz. Why.

I did the thing, and as part of my reward, the brush now has the chance to poison enemies when you hit them with it.

Gross.

I do have to admit, though, there’s a lot more trash around town now.

Anyway, Aigis has been under repair since the fight on the bridge, and now, the night before our decision, she’s back. We’ve all already made our decision, though, so we’ll just have to tell her what we picked and then--

...no.

Aigis doesn’t understand why we’d want to throw our lives away like this. But we’re not. We’re at least trying, instead of giving up to wait for the end.

Junpei gives a really great speech, that does actually get through to Aigis.

The whole team points out that Aigis seems much more human than she did before the fight on the bridge. Which I guess means I can finally social link with her too when we go back to school. Which cramps all the rest of my social links if she’s only got a month for hers.

Again, my timing is going to be really important for the second go round.

But now it’s time to unlock the super double-secret DLC that leads to the Carnival of Contempt!

God, I wish. X’’’D Anyway.

My boy is here and he is sad.

Maybe if we hang onto you hard enough, you can keep your form.

Despite the fact that we have our decision, he tells us he’ll wait in Minato’s room, and to come see him when we’re ready to answer.

Babe, that is NOT helping. X’D Pretty sure that would influence our decision no matter what.

Everyone sends Minato upstairs to deliver the answer, and things are… a lot.

You were still you, though. Your soul was the same.

Don’t look so disappointed about that.

I love you, but how can you ask me to betray my friends like that?

He has a point, though. It’s just me. I can be a horrible person if I want to.

...the fact that he looks so happy that I’m going to kill him makes me instantly regret this decision.

Ryoji, I made the wrong choice. I know that. Don’t try to make this better.

He says he’s glad he met Minato.

You’ve been happy before!

Seriously, he just closes his eyes and waits.

What are we even doing?

It’s not midnight.

We can’t summon in reality.

What are you doing?

[thompsborn]

Just wanted to send a little reminder that even though you've planned to finish HB by Christmas Eve, everyone will still appreciate your work if you don't make this goal! Just because it's kind of soon and you haven't posted as much about progress since Ch16 dropped (which was perfect, by the way) so wanted to make sure that you weren't putting too much pressure on yourself to meet that goal :)

hi!!

first of all, thank you for saying this!! i have this habit of making promises that i know i COULD follow through on, but since there’s no consequences to NOT following through on them and there are other things that take priority (work, family, etc.) i tend to shove things to the back burner rather than put the effort in to follow through on my promises? if that makes sense? idk

so, i’m definitely going to TRY to reach this goal i’ve set out—and, honestly, it is entirely possible that i manage to! i can write a lot in a single day, like i wrote the first chapter of homeward bound (7.2k words) in a single sitting in december 2021 and i started the second chapter the same day i finished the first one but didn’t finish it. like it’s entirely possible for me to write hb 17 and 18 like. THIS WEEKEND. like i could, writing-abilities wise, write chapter 17 tomorrow and 18 sunday. that is well within my capabilities.

it’s less the writing-ability side of things getting in the way though haha. it’s more being tired and being busy. but!! i am NOT busy this weekend! my only plans are to do laundry, do some cleaning, go to a dog training sunday afternoon for like an hour with my best friend, and sleep!

that’s not to say that i’ll be as productive with hb as i would like to be - sometimes things get in the way, sometimes i end up being tired enough to sleep until like 1 pm lmao, shit might happen, but my HOPE is to get chapter 17 on a roll!

part of it is also that like, chapter 17 is basically the climax of the investigation? but hb is currently over 150k words and i have not been keeping very good track of the investigation in my notes and am lowkey paranoid that i’ve forgotten something important and such, so i’ve been rereading chapters 1-16 to make sure i have everything written down properly and accurately in order to close off that part of the plot in a way that is hopefully satisfying, which has taken time away from actually WRITING chapter 17, if that makes sense??

basically, i won’t promise anything, but i am still going to TRY and reach this goal, and i know that if i’m able to manage my time and maintain motivation then it is entirely possible for me to do so, but there is still probably a good 50/50 chance of it actually happening. but i’m hopeful!! and honestly every comment and ask i’ve gotten about hb has been SO kind and heartwarming that i know no one will be like mad at me if i don’t manage to make it work, which is a nice reassurance to give myself (i’ve mentioned this before, but the reason i stopped writing losers club fics was because of the asks being sent to me were very VERY rude and demanding and angry and i’m kinda just scared of that happening again here, even though i have not once been given a reason to think it would since writing for marvel/parkner, but still i get a little bit anxious about it)

so, genuinely: thank you for this, it does make me feel better and less worried about the idea of like. letting people down if i don’t manage to reach this goal? and i am not going to promise that i’ll be able to, but i am definitely going to try nonetheless!!

[jay-avian]

Creative Writing Project 1

Prompt: Write about a secret. If writing fiction: both characters know this secret, but only one of them knows they both know. (600-750 words)

Title: Our Intrepid Detective (yes, I stole from my own noir, it's okay)

I stepped into my office right at 7:00am, just like any other workday. I go to sit down at my desk where my case file and its contents lay scattered. I’ve been on the trail of a rather large crime syndicate in the city. I had been stumped on how to get them for good when my partner found out about a pick up happening tonight at the eastern docks. Brilliant man, Harvey is.

The plan was simple enough: wear a disguise, show up as one of the drivers, help them bring the goods to their “secure location”, then let the cops take care of the rest. I have to make sure that I’m more careful than I’ve ever been. If I’m caught among that large group, I’m surely done for. Thankfully, I have just the disguise for the job.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. The door opened and there Harvey was with our coffee. Harv is one heck of a man; built like a brick, he is.

“Mornin’ boss,” he says as he walks in.

“Mornin’ Harv.” He hands me my drink and I take a sip and sigh. “You know, tonight’s finally gonna be it. After tonight, we’ll have played all our cards right.”

“You sure your wife will be okay with you staying out another late night?”

“Hey, crime never slows down for anybody, and neither will I. Besides, she’s got to stay late too. You know how hospital work is.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

I get up from my seat and head to the window, taking another sip from my coffee. Looking down into the city streets this early in the morning is always so serene. A beautiful Sunday morning if ever there was one. All the saints and pretenders are getting ready to be ministered to. But I will be ministering to the sinners.

“Harvey,” I say, turning back around. “We’ve got some fishing to do.”

I arrive at the docks around 8:30pm. Harvey managed to snag me a delivery truck to borrow. I drive up to all the other trucks and step out. They had already started loading some of the trucks with crates from one of the barges in the dock. A woman was talking to some of the workers when she notices me, looks me over, and smiles. Guess the clean-shaved look really does it for me. She walks over.

She’s a real pretty one if I say so myself. Black hair tied up nice and clean, just enough makeup to bring out her features, a real nice burgundy dress too. Though something about her feels familiar. I mean, of course she lives in this city just as I do. Perhaps I’ve seen her at Molly’s diner before, or the theater.

“You another driver?” she asks.

“Yes ma’am,” I say politely. “Sorry I’m a bit late. Had some trouble with the missus.”

“You sure you won’t have more trouble after tonight?”

“Don’t worry about it. She knows I don’t play around.”

She chuckles. “That’s good. We’ll get your truck loaded, then I’ll hop in with you to give you directions.”

“Sure thing, doll.” I’m not sure why she’d offer to ride with me when I can easily follow the others. Then again, she may be trying to cozy up to me. Or worse, she might suspect something ain’t right. I can’t get nervous now though. Just have to keep my cool.

Crates get loaded onto my truck and we both hop in. We’re one of the last groups of trucks to go. As the lady’s giving me directions, we’re making a nice conversation. I feel a sense of strange warmth talking to her, but I know better than to give anything up. We eventually arrive at a warehouse on the southside where we leave the trucks to be unpacked by other members.

The woman gets out and gives a few more orders before heading to a real fancy car waiting for her in the lot. I walk her over and she gets into the driver’s seat.

“You need a ride home, darling?” she asks.

“I’ll be good, thanks. I’ve got a friend I can call up.”

“Whatever you say. As long as you meet me home Jack. I’ll be sure to make you that shepherd's pie you like.”

Before I can say another word, my wife drives off, leaving me speechless yet again.

[linaket]

Writing Update (2/18/23)

Tinder Saint Progress:

8 / 15 chapters complete

word count: we made it to 20k! (projected: 40k)

Excerpt:

Cathan’s gaze fell to the small flicker she cradled. “I am tired of being afraid.” She wrapped her other hand around the fire, holding it close enough to burn. “I’ve always been afraid. Every day. Look at you, Vahn. Even if I wanted to ask, I can’t. You are bleeding and no one has bothered to say anything about it.”

Vahn lifted a hand to his brow, scraping over the dried flakes of blood and wincing from the bruise. “Not bleeding anymore, technically.”

“There has to be something better than this. I have to believe that. If the wars don’t take us, there is always someone else waiting. ”

Salinae’s heavy, willing hands were a ghost at Vahn’s throat, and Ilye’s too-loud voice bracketed the memory. 

“Maybe they're waiting," he said, "but these trials will kill you a lot quicker.”

Cathan’s smile was an elegy that had long been written. “Then I won’t have to be afraid anymore, will I?”

🎵 Music: Eyes On Fire, Hahlweg ft. wayfie

I’m taking it slow Feeding my flame Shuffling the cards of your game And just in time In the right place Suddenly I will play my ace

I've been listening to some version of this song since I first started writing SP, but it is usually a Kanna song (the Blue Foundation, Zed's Dead Remix lives on her playlist).

This one didn't really inform any of the current chapters I worked on. It's actually far more consistent with Vahn in later chapters or even after Tinder Saint closes, but it's been keeping me excited to get these early chapters tightened up so I can show him growing and getting there and have my powerful, confident Vahn come out the other side of all this.

Thoughts:

I'm actually doing this a day early because I start a long stretch of work days tomorrow. I planned to do these on Sundays, but it's probably going to be... around Sunday because I'm very bad at knowing what day of the week it is.

Technically, I only have two scenes left lingering in what I'm considering my "early" section to complete... I had a lot of lingering bits that needed to get edited in and I managed to get that done, so its just those two scenes remaining.

I am getting more excited each day as I get closer to actually hitting the part of this story that I'm dying to write. Somehow, all three of my days off are in a row the week after next (Feb. 27-Mar. 1) and I want to have all this early part cleaned up enough by then that I can marathon through that section. It's hmm... 2-3 chapters and not even the "biggest" reveal, plot wise, it is simply the thing I'm most excited about in terms of being challenging and tricky in the best way.

It feels really strange, though, to think about how little I have left to write? Technically I've already written half of what I projected this novella to end up at and that took forever but... I have a feeling that after I get these last lingering parts from the beginning out of the way, if I had a free week to just write morning to night I'd be able to finish this in that time because its all knocking-down instead of carefully setting up and I tend to wrecking ball through that part of things.

I can probably get pretty close to finishing this draft by end of March... middle of March, depending on how far I can get in those three days that I do have off and if nothing out-of-bounds happens which... it really might, I have a lot of odd things floating around in my life right now that I'm expecting to hit right when I don't want them to.

[prev. week]

[jodilin65]

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 31, 1995 I just cleaned the stove and the two main computers. Next, I’ll have to do the bathroom and the microwave.

I spoke with Andy. He said he misses making prank phone calls, but wouldn’t dare call the same number twice or say anything too crazy. So, I told him that as long as he dials and lets me just listen, I wouldn’t mind listening in. I did speak a little, but we basically only spoke to each other as if it were a case of crossed lines. Maybe being bad like this will get me a kid since I didn’t have a husband when we did the bulk of our prank calls. Nah - it’s not bad enough. I’d have to deal or do drugs or kill someone.

Andy says he wants to try to go the whole month of January with no pot and that when he’s stoned it blocks him from having any premonitions. Makes sense. On January 15th, though, I’ll ask him if he senses what I do about a kid.

He also told me something else that seems rather unbelievable. Well, he’s got a 160-page journal he was gonna write a letter to Stevie in, but he wants to get her a smaller one. So, in the meantime, he’s gonna write his very first journal, he tells me. And he’s gonna let me read it, too.

Tom’s up now and I wonder if he’s over his cold. More so I wonder - did he ever really have a cold? Or is he saying so to avoid sex? Or play into my head that there’s a third source trying to help stop us from doing things? Did God have anything to do with his cold if that’s what he has to get in our way? Is he saying it to make me feel guilty about smoking? He doesn’t smoke yet he’s had 3-4 colds since we met and has less energy than I do in some ways.

Later…

Right now I am in a very good and positive feeling mood. I don’t know if this means our dreams will come true and I haven’t had any visions yet, but I do have good feelings for one or all of the following months. April, June and September.

It’s already next year in Massachusetts, Connecticut and Florida.

Dad and Mom called me and I also got to talk to Goldie and Al who were there. They also said they spoke with Boo & Max and Charlotte & Jim who are there in Florida too, of course. I asked Dad what was the occasion that made them send another package and his answer was, “Just because you’re you.”

I called Tammy and they were all falling asleep.

I forgot to mention that all her kids are really ugly which is sad. I liked the pose they were in and the way they were set up in the pictures, though.

I also called Larry who appreciated my call and I was amazed to hear that everyone else was asleep.

I made a request to Tom that he did that I really didn’t think he’d do to help me when I’m feeling hopeless. I had him write in the angel journal that he felt 100% sure we could have a family on our own, but that if I wasn’t a mother or at least pregnant by April of ‘97 we’d go to as many doctors as we needed to. I’m really glad he did this and I’ll read that over and over when I’m PMSing or whatever.

In about half an hour I’ll be watching the ball go down in Times Square, even though it’ll be taped. For now, I’ll go get the dishes done, so that and the laundry will be done and out of the way. Till next year!

My Time Has Come - 1981

My time has come. I must say goodbye. My bags are all packed, and I’m ready to cry.

Chorus; And I just wanted to let you know, I’ll miss you all. And I just wanted to let you know, thanks for all your help.

Well, my friend, I know, that even though this place helped, it also hurt, but now I must go

Chorus;

Well, like I said, my time has come I must say goodbye, and walk out the door.

Carry Me Away - 1982

Carry me away Carry me away

I don’t want to live in misery. All I want in life is to be free. Take me to where the sand meets the sea I’m free.

Carry me away Carry me away

I can see the road now, I must travel on. Moving from place to place, never home too long.

Carry me away Carry me away

Someday I know I’ll find it, but it won’t be on the road. I may not be a young girl, but at least I’ll be happy when I’m old.

Carry me away Carry me away

A Light in The Dark - 8/27/91

I see a light in the dark. So trapped, so alone and so dark. Yet there’s a light. A light in the dark. Wishing, wanting, hoping, while trying to remain grateful. Grateful for my beautiful surroundings. Grateful I’m feeling and looking well. Grateful for the many gifts I have, yet it is still dark.

Friends will come and they will go. I’m so cut off, please don’t go! That one very special friend had to go. I’m in the dark now, yet there’s a light. A light in the dark. I still have the same dream, and so it seems, the vision won’t go away. I know I should walk away. I’m in the dark now, yet there’s a light. A light in the dark.

I see a light in the dark. I bide my time, one step at a time. Some things have ended. Will my patience be rewarded? It’s so dark, yet there’s a light. I see a light in the dark. Yes, I see a light in the dark.

Eight Months of Mystery - 10/8/1994

The sun has gone down. Time to call for a cab. She arrives at a place, where she must put on a face. A face they called ‘Mystery’, till the end of the night.

Chorus: Eight months of Mystery, dancing away. To the beat of the drums, she’d pay her way. No need to hang up her dancing shoes yet, she had to get out of debt.

Another costume, another night. It was a fun and adventurous time. But when it became nine months, someone swept her off her feet. Someone most only ever dream to meet. Time to jump into yet another life.

Chorus: Eight months of Mystery, dancing away. To the strum of the guitar, she’d pay her way. Time to hang up her dancing shoes, but only in that way. For the memory of Mystery will always live on.

Never Forget - 4/14/1995

My best friend took a trip back to our home. He took a picture of what we used to call home. Hang onto this he said, remember where we came from. No chance of me forgetting the hell from which I came.

Chorus: It’d be something I’d never forget. Gotta run now, I may never get the chance again. It’d be something I’d never forget. I’m running now as fast as I can.

Remember those cold dark winter nights. Remember the sounds of the sirens and the gunshot blasts all night. Another dealer’s been taken away, but only for today.

Repeat Chorus:

We won’t forget the food stamps, oh no. We won’t forget the poverty and destruction. It’s where we came from, you know. Did you go by your old neighborhood today?

Repeat Chorus

Walk Towards the Light - 9/13/1995

In the middle of the night, the dream came to me. All was silent in the hallways, left to right. The unknown voice began its message. So seemingly scary, so out of place.

Chorus: You’ve done your time here, my dear You must go to your proper place. You’re free to go now and walk towards the light. Walk through the gate and down the tunnel. Walk towards the light. This is what it told me.

Woke up in a sweat, tried to make sense of it all. It wasn’t till I was at the airport that it finally made sense. Stands tall and thin, the symbol of peace, they told me. Unexpectedly came the big change, although something did try to tell me.

Repeat Chorus

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 30, 1995 Tammy wasn't kidding. She really did send us something. I was hoping it'd be a video, but it was a few pictures of the girls and a card. This was still great and Tammy, who still has 3 years to go in medical school, is graduating this semester with honors. I spoke to her afterward and she says she hasn't gotten another package from Mom & Dad. She also hasn't sent Larry the letter I typed up yet cuz things have been hectic.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 29, 1995 I made the spag and had a big serving of it. Not to mention the pizza I also had and granola bars. So much for my diet. And cutting the cigarettes down.

I’m taping what seems to be a very good movie right now.

I just got done listening to music and the movie won’t be over till 4:00.

No calls from Andy or Karson. I thanked Karson for not calling me 3-4 times a day.

I slept forever yesterday, so I’ll probably be up forever today, too.

Boy, if I wanted to or had to for some reason I could really make this journal last a very long time. If I typed it all with small print and printed back to back it could last several months. If I began my first one like that, it probably would’ve lasted over a year. The only way I could ever have a journal last over a year would be if I had been a singer or if I’d had a kid. More so if I’d had a kid.

I’m not bothering to make tapes of Little House on the Prairie cuz I’ve seen every single episode many times. I wish it were 4:00, though. I want to see that movie. I started watching the beginning, then went and listened to music. I don’t like to see the beginning of a movie, skip the middle and then see the end. Or see all of it but the beginning. I hate to even miss the first few minutes. Yes, I know I’ve got the thing taped on the VCR, but I don’t want to watch the end after seeing the beginning only to see the middle of it in the end. I’m just picky about stuff like that, I guess.

I saw Xena. She’s this woman that even Andy says is hot on this warrior princess type of show and that he’d do if he could. I guess there have only been about 3 or 4 women that he’s ever seen that he’d do. Yeah, she is my type, but there’s no real spark. Not yet, anyway. I see what he means, though. She’s tough and muscular, yet pretty and feminine. She has long straight black hair to the middle of her back and blue eyes. She looked slightly chunky, though, even though most of it is muscle.

When I pull my hair straight, it goes an inch above the crack of my ass. That’s the good news. The bad, as I said before, are all these fucking split ends.

I’m gonna try to paint cacti the next time I do a painting. When that’ll be, I don’t know. Whenever I’m in the mood for it, I guess.

I still have to finish my painting of Rose’s, but I don’t know how that’s gonna come out.

I miss swimming. I wish it were really hot. Mid-summer is my favorite time here, except for when we’re out doing errands or appointments. Well, I can’t go swimming now or watch the movie, so I may as well get some more stuff printed out. Got about 7 pages ready to print out.

Later…

Got a surprise package in the mail today from my parents. I sure didn’t expect it and who knows what the occasion is. I told Tom I think it’s cuz I’ve done everything “right” in this marriage as far as they’re concerned. I haven’t gotten into any trouble. I haven’t had a kid. Tom said, “No, they sent it cuz they love you and just cuz you’re you.”

Whatever.

Anyway, they sent me a nice denim jacket which will go great with my denim shorts, skirts and pants. It’s not a jacket like a regular jacket you wear when it’s cold, but one you’d wear in an office or something like that. It sure beats those old wool skirts and jackets we used to wear. It hugs the waistline well making me look thin. I also got a denim pocketbook with belt loops and pockets.

Tom got a huge shirt which I’m wearing right now. It’s gonna be big on him as well as me. Its sleeves and ends go down past my knees and I can pull the hood over down onto my chest.

They sent this really nice white-glazed eagle. It’s very modern-looking and it goes well in here but it’ll really go well when we get that newer, bigger and more modern house.

They sent two candles. One’s in a small red glass holder that I think I remember seeing in her place. The other’s white and looks like a snowball. That was probably intended as a joke on me.

They sent a little flower basket that I hung out on the patio.

Lastly, a music box of a mother dog at one end of a seesaw and two pups at the other end. It goes up and down as the music plays.

I’m gonna be watching TV for a little while, then I’ll type some more in here.

Later…

I decided to tape a couple of movies. That way I can forward through the boring parts.

Mary and Dave should’ve gotten their letter today and I hope they liked it as well as the drawings I did for them.

Tom picked up a piece of cardboard that’s specifically shaped and used for doing artwork of various kinds on shirts. That oughta make the job easier. I have 3 more shirts to do and I have ideas for 2 of them, but that’s it right now. I was thinking of perhaps writing my song titles on one of them, including the year I wrote them.

I just called and left a message on Andy’s machine asking for his opinion as to what he thinks about my writing my song titles on a shirt. I have about 22 of them, I think. I killed the song Without the Joy. I have enough depressing songs from before I came here and I need no more.

Tom still says he’s 100% sure we’re not gonna need a doctor in ‘97. He said if we’ve progressed this far, it’s only logical that we’ll continue to. Yeah, but we haven’t progressed in ways that make him cum and how does he know that he’ll be doing this by then? I still feel that I have to beg for sex, for the most part, it’s just for me for the whole part and when I talk about it he seems to punish me by avoiding sex with me.

Weird.

Anyway, things have been good with us and he checked into the cost of making up mugs with our pictures on them. It’ll cost $60 to have 4 mugs made up, then he has to carve at least two animal plaques, we still need to mail out the computer disks to Tammy’s kids when we get more stamps and get Jenny’s phone certificate.

This weekend we’ll probably go over and discuss using Excel as our long-distance carrier. I don’t see why we wouldn’t, even if it cost the same, but it does cost less. He said cuz she’s my friend, we can at least use it and be one of her customers, even though working for them just isn’t for me.

I wonder why she hasn’t called. She was supposed to call last Tuesday, so I hope she’s OK.

I haven’t checked the latest weather report back east, but I can only imagine how cold it must be. I’m sure they still have snow, too. Ha, ha! They can have it!

Kim must’ve gotten that letter by now where I told her the things I told Bob that were supposed to have really happened. Bob told Kim just about every single thing I told him in a letter to her and asked, “Is that true?” I’m sure he believes it and he’s a very typical male. He’s got no problem hearing about fantasies that include other women, but it would burn him up with sheer jealousy to hear of other guys in the picture.

Well, I guess this is it for this journal. Time for me to go get the other one started, but first I’ve got to type out the cover page. Meaning, my beginning and ending dates, age, and all that shit. Then my entry date page. Lastly, I’ll be binding this thing up into a book.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 28, 1995 Something totally amazing happened earlier. Well, today I’m mid-cycle and I said to myself, I’ll never get him to screw me today. Only use his tongue on me. So, he went down on me first, then after that, I proceeded to get him hard with my hand and he said, “Oh, I thought we were done.” I then told him I wouldn’t do anything to make him uncomfortable and he said it was OK. So, once again I started to harden him up, then he sat up to look at the clock. I told him to just relax and there’d be plenty of time for him to do whatever he needed to do unless he really wasn’t in the mood. He said again that it was OK. So, on I proceeded again and I thought, this guy is so damn scared, I’m never gonna get him hard, but he did get hard enough to get in there. As figured, though, he wasn’t in there too long due to being tired and he seemed to be not one bit into it.

Afterward, I said, “Hope that makes a baby. I have a good positive feeling.” I said this to see if his reaction would be as I thought it would. He said nothing, but he grinned as if to say, “Oh, no it won’t. I’ve seen to that.” Then I told him I was wrong when I thought he’d never screw me due to being mid-cycle. He said he forgot all about it, but that it wouldn’t have made a difference. I doubt he forgot about it and he’s right. It wouldn’t make a difference since he won’t cum. Still, it was shocking just to have gotten him in there which is always fun for me anyway.

I called Karson earlier to let her know that Gloria was to be on the Bravo Awards and she already knew about it. She sang one song that I don’t really like and she looked OK. She’ll never look like she used to, but she must’ve had surgery or something. Maybe it was the clothes she wore that were black. She had a nice chiffon flowing gown on, but she couldn’t really be that thin. Especially since she only had the kid a year ago. I don’t know what she did. Maybe cuz she can afford it she got a personal fitness trainer or something. I know she did that after she broke her back.

Andy and I spoke with Karson last night and maybe we will again tonight.

Tom got Mary and Dave’s letter to print out. They should get their letter tomorrow.

I’m still looking forward to writing journals again. I do love the pretty fonts and how fast the typing goes (when I have a lot to say), but there are annoying things about it. Like when I turn the computer off thinking I’ve said all I want to say. Then remember something else I want to write about and having to fire up this damn thing. Or wanting to type while Tom’s using this computer. Also, there are times when I want to write something personal and don’t want to do so with him walking around whether or not he really does read my journals, which I really doubt.

Later…

I hope I’ll be awake on New Year’s Eve to see the ball go down. Yes, I will be now that I think of it.

Yesterday I blew the patio off and washed it down with the water gun. It’s still pretty filthy, but hopefully, I can keep the birds off of it. I chase them out into the grassy area, then turn around and walk back and they follow me back up to the patio. I’ll just have to keep feeding them on their blocks out in the back of the yard and see if that drives any sense into them.

Karson’s either out of her mind, blind or I’m blind. She told me that during the video of the drag queens that did a video for her while she was 9 months pregnant and also as a tribute to drag queens who did her throughout the country, there was a quick second shot of her wearing blue while she was 9 months pregnant. I went and looked back through the video and I couldn’t find it.

I’ve got to get my lazy ass in gear here and do some dusting and vacuuming.

I realized last night that before they had straightening irons when I was in my teens and used to blow dry my hair straight, I still had split ends big time. Tom said the blow dryer would probably cause much more damage than the straightening iron.

Anyway, he’s gonna trim an inch (I hope) on the first, then a half-inch every 3 months. Meanwhile, I’ll sit and trim off split ends here and there. There are only millions of them! My hair is in so much better condition, though, when I do straighten it. It’s more manageable and much softer. When I leave it curly it feels like straw and is a bitch to brush through.

Here’s Linda now on KHITS singing Heatwave.

I sometimes still find myself wondering, like I am tonight, how some people I used to know are doing. I suppose I might want to puke if I saw Norah M now. She must be in her mid to late 40s and look much worse than Gloria does now. Isn’t it sad to know that we all get ugly (or fat), no matter how we started off looking as we were young?

I wonder why Jenny C isn’t married. She said she considered getting married someday and would like to have two girls. The only thing I can think of is that she didn’t find Mr. Right and I think that’s gonna be a pretty impossible task for her if she’s as picky as I used to know her to be. Always has a problem with people. Within a week or so we’ll be sending her the phone certificate and the letter. Tom said that this weekend he’ll call them to see if he can buy one somewhere so we don’t have to wait for it to arrive here. Meanwhile, I wonder if Jenny’s thinking I’m not gonna bother.

I can’t believe it still hasn’t rained. When will it? Now that I think of it, though, I really think that this has been the easiest winter here for me as far as my asthma and allergies go. It’s now almost hard to believe that I was once as sick as I was with attacks that landed me in the ER and constant colds, flues, sneezing, and wheezing fits. Most of it was nerves and the filth I lived in as well as the humidity. Now, I may have a good 10 days or so per month that it really hurts to know I’ll never have a kid, but I’m no longer a daily bundle of nerves and it’s dry here and much cleaner. The air in the winter, though, is still not too good due to the snowbirds.

Yuck. There’s this song playing now that Andy likes. He would.

It’s a bummer knowing that in just a week and a half or so, I’ll be depressed with PMS. I wish periods were every few months, instead of every month.

What should I do now? I could do up another shirt with drawings, but I don’t feel like doing that or much of anything. I wish I had something I was just dying to do. It’s not that I don’t want to do anything, it’s that I don’t feel like doing what’s available to me.

Again, I know I should be grateful that I never made it as a singer or can have a kid cuz then I know I’d be crying out for these times of leisure.

Later…

Just as I last typed in my last sentence, I remembered today’s a workout day, so I went and did that. I still have to lose a good 2-3 inches before I feel satisfied and before I can fit into most of my clothes.

Now I’m calling the weather line to see if they say anything about rain. Nope. We’re gonna have highs in the 60s and it’s gonna be pretty dry.

Will Tom let me get pregnant in ‘96? Will God? Still have no vibes about it, but only my logic to go on that says no. Between him and God, he doesn’t want to deal with it and I believe they both don’t think I could survive it. Oh well. I can’t change fate any more than the next person can.

Yes, my legs, gut, and arms do feel firmer, but I don’t know if it’s psychological or not. It’s a good feeling and I hope to hell that I can stick to it for once in for all, cuz I really do feel lousy when I don’t exercise. I feel like one big lazy ball of flab.

I think I’ll go make some spag now. Tom would appreciate that I’m sure.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 27, 1995 Journal 104 is done, and that’s got stories in it as well as lyrics. Well, I’ve definitely done enough typing and printing for the day and am getting pretty tired.

I woke up with major gas today and I still have some. I hope it’s not cuz of the milkshakes which are dairy, of course. I really need to lose 6-8 pounds.

I’ve decided that for once and for all I’m gonna trap Tom in his own bullshit. I’m not gonna mention a kid till at least April 1st and I’m gonna do all the little things he says will help him cum. I’ll be fully dressed at all times, I won’t turn the ringer or the fan on too much, and all the other millions of things I need to do that he says he can’t cum cuz of them. My point? To prove he’s full of shit. I’m gonna close in on him, trapping him into a corner with his own shit, and then see what he does. What will his new excuses be then?

Thank God, though, that due to my always being so horny that his tongue has no problem operating cuz he probably won’t screw me till the weekend and there’s no way in hell he will tomorrow. But he’s not a chicken, right? Right!

Now I’m gonna go see if I got any mail on AOL, before eating my chicken pot pie.

Later…

I just asked Tom if I should try quitting smoking now or on New Year’s Day. He said he thinks it’s best to do the things you want to do now, rather than put dates and times on things. Really? Then why hasn’t he done things he said he wanted to do? He said he’s trying. His typical answer.

It’s hard to believe that in just under 4 hours I’ve had only 2 cigarettes, but it’s true. If I’m not doing a good job at quitting, I’m at least doing a good job at stalling them, so far.

Anyway, Tom screwed me earlier and it was great. I don’t feel like a freak, cuz if he wasn’t really close, he did a damn good job at making it look that way. Maybe if he just always acts close, it’ll be OK. It’s when he acts like it’s a chore and he’s not at all into it that makes me feel not too cool about it.

I sang quite a bit today and not too much else. I told myself to do some housecleaning, but I got lazy.

I got a Chanukah card from Bob today. How in the hell can he get ahold of cards in prison? Maybe someone brought them to him or to another inmate and they gave them to him.

Still no call from Kim, so she must be busy. She left me a message while I was drawing up that shirt that she’d be calling Tuesday night, but no call yet. Someone tried calling when we were fucking, so maybe that was her. Whoever it was left no message.

Minnie still hasn’t tried calling back, so who knows what the hell is up with her. Cuz she’s got a kid, who knows when the next time will be that she can call?

After I finish this journal, I’ll have two other blank ones. The cat one Kim sent and the angel one from my parents. I think I’ll do the cat one next. Then, who knows when the next time will be that I type a journal. Watch, though. With my luck as soon as I finish this one, something will happen that’ll take pages to go through and you know how much faster that is to type. I’ll just use the Mystery file for that. I’m only gonna type up my journals in the end anyway. When I’m typing a journal and when I hit a part that’s typed up in the Mystery file, I just zap it on over and copy it in. It doesn’t fuck up documents that are of standard size. Anyway, the reason why I type up stuff when I’ve got lots of stuff to say is cuz that way I’m less likely to forget stuff. My fingers at the keyboard have an easier time keeping up with my thoughts than my fingers do holding a pen.

Later…

I was telling Tom that a part of me wished he would come out and say he was really holding back all this time and the reason why he did was cuz he had plans to cum during a certain time frame, cuz then I’d at least have a little bit of hope. Tom said he knew I wanted that. Well, I don’t want it if it’s true and he’s lying about it and that’s just what he’s doing. Even if he was cumming, it still seems hard to believe I could get pregnant. You’re only fertile 24 hours a month and it’s hard to hit it just right, even if you count. Tom told me last March or so that if it got to be April or May and I wasn’t pregnant, we could count, but that’s just another thing he said that he didn’t mean. I’m still gonna do my experiment to prove all the more that I know he’s full of shit starting New Year’s Day. This way I’ll remember how long it’s been easier.

Last New Year’s Eve, right as the ball was dropping, I knew instantly that I wouldn’t be pregnant in 1995. I wonder if I’ll get a reading on that right before or as the ball drops. If I do, I know what it’ll be. I know I’ll be getting January’s period and February’s and even March’s. At the same time, I can see that I’ll never have a kid, I see more strongly and surely a few months at a time. On New Year’s Eve, I’ll still write whatever I see or feel anyway.

When will the house sell next door? I’m just thoroughly amazed at the fact that it’s been vacant since September 1st. Boy, am I gonna be compensated with sheer hell for all this peace I’ve had over the last 4 months. The for-sale sign’s been gone, but no one’s moved in, so who the hell knows the scoop on the damn thing.

There’s nothing good on TV tonight, so I’m not sure what else I’ll be doing.

I heard something pretty funny on KHITS the other night. A DJ said that it was to be rather cold at night, so people might want to consider bringing their animals inside. Not a chance! This is Phoenix and if there’s one thing I can say that’s better with the dog situation in Massachusetts it’s that most dogs only go out just to go to the bathroom. Not here. Although there are fewer stray dogs here.

At least any dogs I do hear are off in the distance. For now. That won’t be the case whenever the house next door sells.

Wendy called with a computer question, but Tom crashed about 10 minutes before she called. She and I chatted about what we got for Christmas and for Chanukah in my case, too.

I know what I can go do now. Start decorating an envelope for Mary. I told Ma that it was her turn to be surprised with a letter and drawings and Ma said she’d love it.

Later…

What in the hell is going on? I just did Mary and Dave’s letter in the AndLar file and it wouldn’t print. Then, I transferred it to the KimBob file and it still wouldn’t print, so I left Tom a note about it.

Anyway, I did two drawings on the front of Mary and Dave’s envelope and now there are 3 others I’m gonna do on the back of it.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 26, 1995 Today I’m starting my diet. I was gonna wait till the first of the year, but I have Slim-Fast here and already started back up with the exercising two days ago. I’ve never been more determined and anxious to get back into shape than now. I really feel that I look the worst I’ve ever been since 1988. Maybe I’m not as big in certain ways, but I feel like I’ve turned to nothing but flab. My upper body muscles still aren’t too bad, but my lower stomach and legs look terrible. My lower gut looks either 4 months pregnant or like I dropped a kid a year ago.

I just talked to Tammy who says she’s going to the post office tomorrow to mail out a present to us. She said it was delayed cuz the snow delayed the postal services there. Yeah, I believe that one for sure.

Last night, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I was due for my period within a day or so. I was so bloated, my tits are sore and I was rather depressed again.

I made a deal last night with Tom which neither of us spoke of bluntly, but it was the kind of thing where we didn’t need to and that we both understood.

First, though, I got two confessions out of him the other day. I commented, “Cuz my pussy’s small, so if you came it’d leak out of me.”

He said, “That’s right,” going to prove once again that I was right about the fact that he never did cum last winter.

Yesterday I said he makes all the major decisions and more and he said, “Yup. Somebody’s got to make them.” Now I don’t know if he was trying to turn that one into a joke, but I’m not stupid. He did make major decisions and more. He decided we won’t be having a kid and he decided to never look for information on Robin, even though he said differently.

I told him the other day that by the time he did look for Robin if he ever did, she really would be dead for sure if there’s a slight chance at all that she’s alive.

Anyway, our deal was basically that he forbids me to have a child and whatever else. Meanwhile, he takes care of me. If I don’t ever want to work, I don’t. I can stay home and bum around and do my hobbies and he provides me with a home, medical insurance, food, cigarettes, journals, etc.

He got a raise and now he’s at $8.40 an hour and won’t get another raise until October. This isn’t enough for us and he says he’s gonna look for a new job to replace this one. I know him, though. He’ll take forever to look for that new job. I know it won’t be easy for him due to his working weekdays, but if I can’t have a kid, I want money!

I agree with him when he said I may say mean things to the child, but I don’t agree with him when he says I can still have a kid with asthma, sleep schedule and ADD. However, this has all got me thinking if I really want to have a child with him for other reasons that are ruining our marriage in general or stealing our time, lives, money and sanity. If he can make false promises to me, then he can do so to a kid. If he won’t put shit back in place, why would the kid? Not only do I have to think if I’d be a good mother, but if he’d be a good father. Overall, I believe he’d be a better father than most, but there are still faults he has as well as I have cuz no one’s perfect. Well, I’ll never have to worry about either of us doing wrong to a child we’ll never have.

I still feel that yes, I’m doing better at accepting never having a kid, looking at the bright side of not having a kid, etc., but I wonder how much longer will this go on before I’m completely over it. Will every single journal that I write for the rest of my life be filled with me wanting a kid here and there, but bitching about how I can’t cuz he’s lied and is playing with my head and how I’m angry at him and God, etc.?

Later…

Ma told me an interesting story when we were sitting out in Mary’s backyard yesterday. A guy killed his wife 2 houses down and buried her in the backyard. Then a pool was built over it. The murderer had kids as they all seem to. A daughter who was 5 at the time it happened ratted on Daddy over 20 years later. They dug up the area and found the body, then Daddy actually got sent to jail for life.

I’m getting hungry, so I better go make me a shake.

Later…

I look around me and I wonder just how it is that I could feel so cheated by God and Tom. Look at all the wonderful things I’m blessed with and all the freedom I have. I can do what I want when I want for the most part. I really do believe that most women would kill to be in my shoes. I know my sister would.

Anyway, as I figured, Alex hasn’t been able to find anything out about Robin. I’m sure he wishes he could, but he doesn’t have the knowledge of computers that Tom has. He has way, way more than me, but still not enough to get any significant information, I don’t think, but we’ll just have to wait and see.

I wonder if Tom has any book about AOL and CompuServe that may explain a little more about how it works. I feel like when I go in there (other than to get my mail or check the weather) that I’m stumbling around blind.

No sex for me till the weekend, although Tom says that’s not necessarily so. He’s due for his “tired” streak. Either that or he won’t have time or feel well enough. Maybe I can get oral sex, but he probably won’t stick it in there and he definitely won’t on Thursday. That’s when I’m mid-cycle. He knows cuz I wrote it on the calendar to help remind myself to start taking my vitamin E at that time.

I’m trying for another CD from Time-Life cuz there are some oldies on it I like. It’s from 1961, but if they mess up for the third time, then they have really got to be stupid. Really stupid!

Last night I finally finished reading all of Bob’s fantasy letters to Kim and boy, was there some really gross, yet ridiculously funny shit in there. There was this part where he says Kim dug her nails into Bob’s ass so hard that he bled and she ripped her nails off. Then she went and took a pair of tweezers to pick her nails out of Bob’s ass.

Sick!

Then he has this girl added to their little get-togethers and her pussy bleeds from so much sex.

Gross!

I guess he’s got a real fetish for blood, pee, puke, and passing out. There’s this part where he fantasizes that he and she have this house and while they’re out in the backyard she pisses, then does the same thing in bed. Another gross thing is how he puts fish halfway inside her and how they wiggle around while half stuck in there. Disgusting! Their other female friend did something amazing. Bob stuck a fish in her while she was asleep, filmed it, then she woke up and came instantly, popping the fish out a good 8 inches or so.

Yuck!

MONDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1995 I sure do have a lot to tell at this time. To be honest, the Christmas presents I got weren’t too impressive for the most part, but here’s a list of what we got, he got and I got, nonetheless. We got these Jenga blocks. You set them up and take blocks from below the stack and pile them up till it topples over. We also got two new pool noodles. Nice colors, too. Pink and light blue. We got a picture of a waterfall in a wooded area. We got a plant and a bathtub mat in the shape of a foot. He got a work light and a T-shirt. I got a needlepoint kit and a manicure set.

We all also got our traditional $50 bills. I’ll be using my $50 bucks for mugs with our pictures on them for Tammy, Bill and my parents and Jenny’s phone certificate.

Mary & Dave’s hamster was cute, but so small compared to piggy. His cage is neat, though, with lots of different colored tubes and wheels.

Jackie and Cindy didn’t show up but the following people were there. Mom & Dad, David, Evie, Nickolena, Pam, Jennifer, Ryan, Nora and Ray. Tom was right when he said that Nickolena was kind of laid back while Jennifer was totally out of control. Made me grateful, once again, how I can never have a kid, even though I still do want one here and there.

We screwed for the second time since I last got so fed up with Tom and his lies about it. All was fine, but I’m back to feeling like a freak about it. Will I ever live to see the day when Tom comes out and tells me the truth behind his not cumming? How can anyone want to wait 16 more months to get help with a problem that’s existed for so long? Despite his fears of me getting pregnant, how can he be happy by always getting his own self off? I know he’s got to be relieving himself in the bathroom and in bed when I’m not in there.

I don’t know if I mentioned this, but they gave Tom a raise. It sucks, though, cuz he’s only getting $8.40 an hour and he won’t get another raise until next October. So, he’s gonna look for a new job to replace this one. When he’ll do this, beats me, since he’s a procrastinator with no plans to have a kid. This job is probably a great excuse for him to make sure I don’t get pregnant, even though he says it’d be no problem since he’d just find a better job. Like someone as smart as he is would get me pregnant before finding this better job? I don’t think so!

Now that the holidays are over and we’re going to start improving financially, he’ll have to come up with new excuses for why he can’t cum. As I knew real damn good and well, my staying fully dressed and our changing our angle for screwing, hasn’t made one damn bit of difference. Still, he lies and says it’ll change and refuses to get help. I told him again that I’m sick of being powerless, I want us to get help and am sick of feeling the way I feel about things on and off and he just said I had to live through it. Gee, thanks! In other words, I just have to live through and accept the fact that he’s full of shit, is gonna do what he wants to do (not cum and have a kid) and to hell with what I want while he tells me he cares and understands and wants to see me happy.

Believe it or not, the calm, serious guy did something quite funny that I think I may have forgotten to write about. When he bought the Chanukah candles he tried reading the Hebrew prayer that was written out in English and God, was it sooo funny! Reminds me of when Andy was trying to sing in Spanish.

Last night I drew flowers, birds and other things on a white T-shirt with those pastel dye sticks from my parents. It was very hard to do, but it looks so cool and I’d love to do some for my Mom, Tammy, Tammy’s kids and Jenny. Also for members of Tom’s family. Tom loved the shirt which I wore to Mary and Dave’s house and he and others thought it looked so professional. Mom and Dad loved their painting, too.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24, 1995 Tom just called from Mary’s house as I got ready to update this journal. He installed a new drive on her computer and he’ll be home in an hour.

I left Andy and Kim messages since I won’t be talking to them for a couple of days. I also left my parents a message and let them know how much I love the pastel dye sticks they sent as part of my Chanukah gift. It’s so cool, too. It’s not easy drawing on a T-shirt or with a crayon-like stick, but I did one shirt so far with flowers, birds, etc. I think Tom will really like it when he gets home.

It’s really neat how much Tom believes in my artwork and brought it into a whole new light by carving my drawings into wood. He’s really good at it, too. He did some of my elephants, camels, flowers, and cactuses and I hope those we give them to will like them. I’d love to do some for us as well as my family. I’d love to send them some shirts with drawings, too.

I haven’t updated since mid-Fri., I believe, so let me begin from there. I got a package from Kim with the videotape and some brochures all about Excel. It is definitely not for me. It’s totally her, though, and we may at least use Excel as our carrier and be her customers. Guess what else she sent, though? A very nice journal that I almost bought once with silver cat face indentations and paws along the binder. A tie-dye T-shirt and a cat calendar. The cat calendar is gorgeous. They’re pictures of cats. A new one for each day. They’re of people’s cats from several different states, including Arizona, Massachusetts, Connecticut, and even Germany, Australia, and Italy. At the end of 1996, I might cut them out to decorate journal covers or envelopes.

Yesterday was fun, yet boring. Tom and I took his folks to Turf Paradise to see the horse races, but it was a simulcast from California. Tom and Dad were really into it, but Ma and I were bored, so we went to a nearby swap meet where I got Gardenia perfume body spray and these really gorgeous, multi-colored salt and pepper shakers in the shapes of cactuses. It’s just like my figurine cactus, but these make mine look sick. Anyway, the place was cold, loud, crowded and boring and I swear I’ll never go back again.

Today I did stuff like laundry and I colored in the plaques as well as drew up a shirt. Tom and I still have to put a coat of clear spray paint on the plaques to protect the water-based markers from running. Then wrap everything and put my drawings on them along with their to/from labels.

Yesterday morning, nympho me couldn’t resist his sexual advances and we ended up screwing, but I loved every second of it. My head said not to bother getting caught up in his games and lies again and just take care of myself, but my body cried out - yes! Give it to me! Last night he ate me out, but I think he may be on one of his streaks now where he has no desire. We’re awfully busy, though, so maybe after the Christmas party tomorrow that’ll be at Mary and Dave’s house.

I said something like, “You can get hard, but you can’t cum,” the other day and his reply was, “It used to be that way, but it won’t be anymore.”

Right! Uh-huh. Still, I enjoy our sex when we get around to doing it and that’s a fact and that’s just that!

I guess I’m pretty much caught up here and the next time I write or type, in this case, will probably be tomorrow after the party, or Tuesday.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 22, 1995 Boy, this journal’s going slow, huh? I now realize that I have mixed emotions about typing up journals. I especially love it if I’ve got lots to say and I love the different fonts, but it goes too fast sometimes. Especially since nothing ever really changes around here as it hasn’t in the last year or so. If I was really busy or had things changing all the time, then this would be good.

Anyway, I spoke to Kim last night and according to her, I should get the Bob letters she’s sent and a package from her today. She mailed us a tape about Excel and a brochure as well as a Hanukah present she said she through in.

Yesterday I began doing some drawings on continuous computer paper to use to wrap the Christmas presents for his family. He carved some of my drawings into wood and it looks really cool. Later I’ll color them in.

He got Chanukah candles and reminded me to light them the other night and tried to read the Hebrew prayer that was written out in English on the back of the box of candles. Oh, it was so funny! Reminds me of when Andy was trying to sing in Spanish.

I talked to Tammy and my parents and Tammy has a foot and a half of snow. Last night when I talked to Kim, they got more snow there and she says there’s about 28”!

I asked Tom last night, “If sex is so non-physical and so psychological for you, then why does it matter what I’m wearing?” He said it’s psychological to him. I guess he means in the way that it makes me feel better when I’m all dressed up, rather than dressed bummy.

Last night he told me he was lonely, but could deal with it. Yeah, I believe that one, alright. Since I’ve put the stop to sex, he’s never seemed happier. I wish I were like him. Instead, I find myself wishing we could be compatible sexually, but I know better. He said maybe we could find some way to compromise where I wouldn’t feel like a freak who isn’t doing her job right while we let things progress at their own natural rate. The only thing that’s progressed is me. First we got him inside there, then I moved on to be able to do different positions. He’ll never change and if he’s hoping for sex, it’s just so he can go back to playing the usual game that he’s been playing over the last 2 years. I just don’t fancy the idea of having sex anymore when the other person just isn’t into it, it’s a chore for them, and they’re only doing it to please me.

Yesterday I told Andy a funny story. He said he wished he had a speakerphone so Michelle could hear this. I can’t believe I’ve never told him this. I thought I did. I’m sure I must’ve written about it. Anyway, it was late 1987 or early 1988 when I called Tammy’s and got a snotty woman talking in an accent I could barely understand. I didn’t know it was Tammy’s mother-in-law and that she was from Israel. I said I was Jodi and asked for Tammy, but the snotty woman rambled on saying shit I couldn’t understand, so I told her to go fuck herself and hung up, sure that I had the wrong number. Not so. About two hours later, Tammy called screaming at me - how could you do this to us?! Do what? I was thoroughly confused, then she told me. Oops.

I hear the pigeons out there now.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 20, 1995 Since I last wrote things have been great. It’s cuz we didn’t talk about sex or a kid. Cutting sex out is the only way to bring about peace around here, as I said before. Besides, why should I do shit to “help” him when he won’t do what I asked him to do. I asked him to at least pretend he was into it and that he came every now and then and he couldn’t even do that.

Got another 70s CD in the mail yesterday and holiday cards from Kim and Andy.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 19, 1995 Oh, I am so fucking pissed, depressed and frustrated I could puke!! What is it going to take to change things around here? Well, obviously the answer’s nothing as I’ve been saying for two years now. Over the weekend Tom “forgot” to make time for us to have sex.

Anyway, I felt like shit yesterday and was tight and congested. When he came home he got tensed out cuz I had made a fuss about making a Doctor’s appointment to see if I needed antibiotics and all I was doing was expressing my concern about the money and the time off of work. Tom insisted it was no big deal if I had to go. Today I feel fine, though, so I’m just gonna wait and see. Meanwhile, after this, he asked me what he could do for me. He said he could either go get Piggy’s sawdust to change his cage, whack my back or screw me. I told him, as he was taking the trash out, that I’d like my back whacked, then for us to screw.

Till this time I had been fully dressed as that’s one of the many things he added to his list of stuff that may help him. Then, knowing he’d be coming into bed with me, I got naked and jumped into bed. Then he returned saying he was gonna go out and move stuff around in the garage to release steam and clear his mind. That’s when I said - fuck this shit! He said he’d take care of me, but now he has to go to the garage and do work. He has to unwind and “psych” himself up to be with me and make me feel like I’m a chore in bed. I just don’t have it naturally? He can’t release his steam by screwing? That’s physical. Then he tells me that sex is a mental thing with him and that the physical part to him is pretty much nothing. Oh. I should’ve known better. If I’ve said this a thousand times and didn’t mean it; I’m saying it once now and meaning it completely. Our sex life is over! Two years of this shit has finally taken its toll on me, this was the final straw and I’ve had it! I’ve absolutely had it! I’m so fucking sick and tired of this man’s fucking bullshit and sexual weirdness and sexual games! I will not allow myself to put up with it ever again! No more! Who the hell am I to not respect myself enough to say no to it and who the hell is he to play with my head sexually, make me feel like the sexual misfit he is and lie to me about having a kid?! Well, I won’t stand for it anymore. If I haven’t got it sexually as far as he’s concerned, then I never will. It’s been two fucking years now and I’m not gonna play games and live fairytales with someone I’m not sexually compatible with and who’s not sexually compatible with me. The thought of him touching me makes me want to puke and totally turns me off more than it ever has before in my life.

I don’t want to leave him and I still love him, but I’d be lying if I said that if a gorgeous woman hit on me I’d say no. Oh, how I wish we could just keep the relationship part of it and have him see other women for sex and me see women for sex, but as I know damn good and well, I’m attracted to straight women. Gay women never have and never will cut it for me and if they ever have, they’re not interested in me or are taken. I asked him again if he was gay and he still swears he isn’t, but what the fuck am I supposed to think? If it isn’t fear of making a kid and if it isn’t me, then what the fuck is it?! The guy will never change and I’ll no longer be a sucker and set myself up to fall. And to be manipulated, lied to and played with. Why? Why is he doing this to me?! Can I ever be good enough for this man? I’ll tell you one thing for sure; I’m fucking sick and tired of others lying to me about and interfering with my dreams and goals. I wanted to be a singer and Scott and others took that away from me. I wanted a kid and Tom’s taken that dream away from me. I can continue on and on with countless people who took things from me and who got in the way of my dreams and goals, but that’d take 20 journals up.

Then he goes on to say that it wasn’t my fault, he accepts me for the way I am and he shouldn’t have gotten upset about the doctor’s appointment. Oh, like this would make me feel any more comfortable with the idea of being pregnant and having all the appointments it’d take for that. I’ve come to realize that he’s weaker and more scared than I am. He could never deal with these appointments let alone the rest of it any more than I could.

Then he says that I forgot something that he told me would help him and that I could take or leave. He said I wasn’t dressed. I reminded him that yes I was dressed till I got into bed thinking he was gonna join me after he put the trash out.

Then he goes, “But I remember you lifting up your shirt.”

I said, “So, I can’t even flash you?”

He then said it’d be best if I were dressed all the time that we were around each other unless in bed. Fuck this asshole. He never seemed to mind in the past when I’d flash him. I can’t even flash my own husband, he doesn’t like lingerie, in bed he can’t see me cuz it’s dark, so he either doesn’t like my body or he doesn’t like women.

Then what was I in for? A new thing that may help him. He said he can’t get into sex with me cuz he can’t initiate it in the way he’d like to and I guess that’s less verbal. He said most couples can communicate without words and just know when the other one wants to screw. Perhaps I can tell at times when he isn’t in the mood, but since when did he ever think I was that psychic? So, I asked him, “If I thought you were in the mood, what do I do? Go up and lead you to the bed?” He said that isn’t how it works. Well, then how does it work? Most couples seem to have no problem. Then he tells me that most people start off by screwing and that since we couldn’t, he associates sex with me as oral sex and not that. That makes a lot of sense. Yeah, right! How the hell can he tell me he looks forward and wants to move forward when he’s looking in the past? He can’t get into me cuz we didn’t start off by screwing? He can’t get into me cuz I can’t always read his mind? What the fuck is it with this guy? When is it ever gonna end? Didn’t I tell you there’d always be new things that needed to be done to help him sexually? Well, as I said, if I haven’t managed to fulfill him sexually yet, I never will and he doesn’t want me to.

I asked him why it takes so long to tell me these new things that he claims will help him and why he’s always got a problem or an excuse. He says the excuses are all in my head. They are? Could’ve fooled me. Then he says that sometimes he doesn’t always realize what I could do to help him.

Oh. Right.

I told him last night that I’d no longer tolerate his games and lies and that in order to bring peace into this house and end the constant confusion and arguing, sex was over. Right away he said he disagreed that that’d help us and that he isn’t giving up. Well, if he’s gonna continue living a lie and playing games and isn’t giving up, then he’s gonna be fucking me in his mind, cuz I ain’t touching him and he ain’t touching me for real. Of course, he’ll try to immediately talk me into having sex again and not giving up. If I give up, he can’t play his game. Well, for once I’m thinking of myself and am gonna do for me. Yes, that includes asking the doctor about that injection whenever I do see him. It’s time to take care of my needs. Not his needs which are bullshit excuses to escape the truth.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 18, 1995 Been way too busy to write, but now I can and I sure have a lot to update on. The only bad news is that I’ve been pretty tight and congested. This time of year is always rough on me. I need a round of antibiotics, but the bitch of it is that I can’t call in a prescription. I have to be seen by the doctor.

To begin updating from where I left off would be Saturday. It still hasn’t rained like they were saying it would that day so we had the tag sale that day and raked in 60. We ended up selling stuff we didn’t think we would sell. One woman came and took the couch that Scott gave me on Bell Rd. and we weren’t even planning on trying to sell that.

I met the lady who lives behind us. She and her retired husband live there.

Larry called me that day saying he had a present for me. He told me that since he’s been back in my life, he’s been filling Jenny C in on how my life’s been and she wants to resume our friendship. This is the one that I was friends with from age 9 to 22. She’s a year older than me. In fact, her birthday is on Christmas. Then, we ended up in court cuz I pranked her over the phone, but the courts never did anything. This, I know, really pissed her off.

I thought she and Larry spoke nearly every day, but Larry says they only speak once a month.

Anyway, he said he was doing this for me. I told him he didn’t have to, but thanks anyway. He suggested I send a letter with a long-distance gift certificate for $5 to make her feel more comfortable about calling me and just take it slow and see what happens. He says she doesn’t want to rehash the past any more than I do and is impressed with how my life’s been since I’ve been in contact with Larry.

The phone certificate is something I agreed to, but it’s weird. Why does she need that to make her more comfortable? If she isn’t comfortable without it, then maybe she shouldn’t call. That’s up to her. Meanwhile, I guess I am ready to accept any calls or letters from her, but I’m wary about it. The big question is why? Why not find some new impressive friend to be friends with? Why someone she swore she’d never associate with, insisted was never a true friend, and who lives 3,000 miles away? I don’t see how they’d be up to some no-good idea to gang up on me in any kind of a way, cuz they’re the type to just dump someone, not fuck them over. Plus, I know they know that’d be awfully hard to do with me so far away and that I wouldn’t stand for it if I were still living there.

I can promise this much and they know it. That is that if there are any problems or bullshit whatsoever - I’m gone. You know how I feel about friend sharing.

Only time will tell why she wants to resume this friendship. Especially with me so far away. I must admit, though, that at this point I’m doing this cuz Larry and Jenny want this. I used to be anyone’s friend just about, but now I’m not at all easily impressed by anyone so she as well as anyone else has to really prove themselves to me and give me a damn good reason for why I should be their friend.

At least they can’t hurt me in any way. All they can do is dump me or get dumped by me cuz of something one of us says. I know I’ll have to really watch what I say to Jenny since it’ll all get back to Larry no doubt. If she and Larry lived out here that wouldn’t go over well with me. Having to watch what I say, I mean, and I could never be her friend cuz we’re just too different. Jenny’s the kind that likes to party and I’m the kind that’s a homebody. She’s also pretty selfish, too. If we went to see 6 movies, for example, we’ve always got to see what she wants to see. Not be fair and split it up and see 3 she wants to see and 3 that I want to see. Larry did say that he realized everything wasn’t my fault and that he thinks it was all those drugs I was on years ago, but there are still a couple of things that bother me. I still feel that he doesn’t believe or realize that Jenny did things to me as well. Also, why is it that I have a feeling there’s a little bit of Mom in him? Meaning if I did something wrong to her, he’ll side with her whether I’m guilty or innocent and if she did something wrong to me, he’d brush it off like it was no big deal or pin it on me. Like I said, if one pits the other against me, all I have to do is dump them both. Only time will tell why she wants to be my friend. She tried being my friend two years ago, too.

Chanukah began last night and Tammy called. She asked why I got more stuff than she did and if Mom and Dad liked me better, but then why did her dog get bones while my pig got nothing?

Later…

I just talked to Tammy a little while ago and told her about the idea of Jenny being friendly with me again and she didn’t see any harm in it, either. She asked me if I saw her and Larry intimately. No, but he was with my first roommate Michelle and has admitted to having numerous affairs.

Since she can’t write too well, I helped her out a bit. I typed a letter to Larry and Sandy for her with her giving me the basic idea of what she wanted to say. She wants their relationship to be closer and to know if there’s anything that they’re upset with her about and to talk to Sandy which she hasn’t done yet. I’ll be sending her the letter to send to them cuz if I sent it, they’d see it was postmarked Phoenix.

She says they’re in for a serious blizzard and that she’s not sending them to school tomorrow. She says her dog can’t go out and piss too well cuz there’s so much snow out there. Ha, ha, ha!!!

A couple of nights ago I was talking to Chris. That’s Andy’s gay friend. He said he loved the edits and was cracking up over them. He and Michelle were mocking them and he says he wants to buy copies, so we’ll see.

Tom said he wanted sex this morning, but I guess he forgot to initiate it. No. I think I said something to turn him off as usual. He said we could do it this afternoon, but I’m getting too tired, so it’ll have to wait.

Yesterday I grouped and neatened stuff up in the back room and made major floor space clear. I know him, though, he’ll just re-trash it.

Overall, the weekend was productive, fun, and there were no problems. Since getting my period, I feel much better as usual. Back to feeling - I’d like a kid, but I can’t have one, so, fine. I wish I felt this way every day. Just think how much easier it’d make my life.

Anyway, my current feeling about Jenny is that she’s all talk and really doesn’t ever intend to call or write, but like I said, time will tell.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 15, 1995 I’ve been very angry and depressed tonight. I know most of it’s due to my period and periods do play on your emotions. I’m sure I’ll feel much happier and carefree in a day or two for a couple of weeks unless reality hits me anytime in between then.

Before I get to my good news, let me bitch some more. Yes, I know bitching ain’t gonna change things and no matter what I say or do and no matter what my beliefs or attitude is, I can’t have what I want, but bitching helps to a degree. I still say the same old thing, I know, but still, what is it with Tom? What is it with God? Why are they doing this to me? Does God have some other reason for not allowing me a child that I don’t know about? Why is he so unfair? Why again, must he give plenty of 15-year-old kids, but not this 30-year-old? What did I do? Is it cuz I slept with women? Is it cuz I tried taking my life years ago? Just what is it? Is it cuz it would kill me for sure? Can I not be able to handle it for sure? Would it cause me to lose Tom? What is it? Am I just plain old not good enough? If I’m not good enough, then why are those on drugs who beat or molest or kill their children good enough?

Nothing I’ve done will get Tom to cum, so will he ever tell me he doesn’t really want a child or will he ever really go to the doctor with me in ‘97? He says that in his mind a doctor in ‘97 doesn’t exist. What’s he gonna have on his mind when ‘97 comes? How is he gonna admit we need a doctor if he doesn’t admit he doesn’t want one? How will he accept this? How can he believe something’s possible when it hasn’t been shown to be possible for two years unless he really is hiding something? How can I ignore what my gut tells me about him and those that say to follow your gut cuz they say your gut instinct is pretty accurate?

How can I ever bring myself to pray to a God that’s so unfair? That lets murderers go free and home to the kids that they can have. How will I ever get over not having a kid like I have with never having the ideal woman? How much longer will it take? I’m getting better, but it still seems like somewhat of a slow process that’s gonna take forever.

Is this possible business opportunity with Excel a sign that I’m meant to be a career woman and not a mother? Why must there always be some impossible dream that I dream of? Why must I always want stuff I can’t have? Why can’t I just accept and be happy with the way things are? Why can’t I be one of those who wouldn’t want to change a thing about their lives? Why must I always have some freakish abnormal situation going on with me or someone I’m closely connected with? Why can’t I just have a normal sex life? Why is that my sex life seems cursed? First it’s not getting anyone I’m attracted to and now this. Why? Dear God, why can’t you just let my sex life be normal and complete? Why won’t you help us? Is it that Tom doesn’t want to be helped cuz he doesn’t want a kid? But you’ve given countless people children who didn’t want them, so why? Why not us?

I know that if I never said a word about a kid to Tom, quit smoking, and all kinds of other wonderful things he still will never allow us a child. Why won’t he say what’s truly on his mind? Even though it’d hurt like hell, at least that would help to finalize it.

I used to wonder if my being blessed with gifts and abilities is why I’ve been compensated for not being able to have a child, but now I don’t know. Not when I see people like Gloria who have it all. Fame, fortune, love, and two kids.

Where did I go wrong in this matter? What did I do wrong? Is there really anything I can do to fix this situation? Am I really being selfish and spoiled by asking for a child?

Tom knows I’ll be mid-cycle on the 28th and I can guarantee you he’ll be exhausted or busy that day or will just lick my pussy only. Why? He should know that I can’t get pregnant if he won’t cum.

OK, enough bitching about a situation that’ll never change.

My parents sent us a package today with Tom’s presents wrapped in Christmas paper and mine wrapped in Chanukah paper.

He got a sweatshirt with flags of all 50 states and an NBA T-shirt. Also 3 round dials on a wooden plaque for reading the temperature, the barometer, and the humidity. This, he really loved. He loves these kinds of things, he said.

I got a really nice denim skirt and two half-shirts that are totally me. One’s pink and one’s bright green. Boy, have they improved when it comes to buying clothes for me! Believe it or not, the skirt is actually a bit big on me, but it won’t be after I wash it. I like these kinds of outfits as well as really sexy or slutty outfits, cuz it’s casual and comfy, yet feminine.

I got a curling iron that’s smaller for making smaller curls. I wondered why they sent that to me when I have naturally curly hair, but I had fun with it anyway. I had my hair straightened, then I just curled the ends. After I washed and straightened it, I curled the whole thing which took over an hour. I couldn’t roll the whole length of the piece of hair as it’s way too long. Instead, I curled what I could, then kept working up the piece of hair. So, I rolled each piece of hair about 6 different times. It’s only a little curlier than my own hair. It looks more like it did when I was 24 when it was only to my bra strap as the shorter my hair, the curlier. This long, though, the weight of the length pulls it out a bit, cuz it covers all of my back (not quite all of my butt yet, though!). While I watch TV, I try to snip off split ends one at a time, so as not to have to hack off the 8 or so inches it’d need to salvage it and that’d put it all the way up to my middle back.

Got a bird feeder similar to one they sent me last year. It’s small and made for small birds, but I’ll bet the pigeons will be stupid enough to try to stand on it.

Got a hand-held mirror with plastic brush bristles on the back of it. It’s got a floral fabric edged with lace around it and Tom said it looks like something his Mom would make. True. I also got a matching picture frame and there was a picture of Dad in it in their store.

They sent about 12 pictures of their store. They sure have lots of flags. Speaking of flags, they sent that musical one I said I loved.

They sent me a purple and blue drink cooler. The kind you can take to the pool or on a bike.

Three turtles on top of each other made out of shells. An alligator pin, necklace, and earrings. Two needlepoint things. One of a musical note and one of a southwestern design.

Finally, pastels for drawing on shirts. I loved these as they look like crayons and it looks like they’ll be easier to use than the markers. I think I’ll do different flower drawings, cuz thanks to Mom and Dad’s flag catalogs, my flower drawings have improved.

We also got holiday cards from Mary and David and Mom and Dad S. thanking us for all we’ve done for them and for us being there. I also got a birthday card from Kim and a letter from her as well as two Bob letters she enclosed.

Got letters from Jenny and Bob.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 13, 1995 Andy might be calling soon we may call Karson. Other than this, not much else is going on and I think I'll go listen to music now.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 12, 1995 Tom is still very sore, so he says. Sorer than he’s ever been before. At least I got him to go down on me, then we worked side by side on the computers together for a while.

I forgot to mention how Bob said he used to go to topless bottomless bars for a while. Couldn’t he have just said nude?

Kim was supposed to call to talk to Tom about this new business she’s in, but she called a half-hour later than she was supposed to and he conked out. It’s some kind of thing with a telephone company where you don’t have to put out lots of money, know lots of people or have a car. She’s gonna call some other time and send us tapes and brochures on it. She says she can’t believe how promising it is and that she feels like she’s living a dream. She says she knows two other nurses that did it and they quit nursing to do this cuz it was such good money.

Last night Andy decided to call Karson while we were talking. She’s back in Mesa and was totally boring. She wasn’t frantic with us at all. We told her we’d call her every few months or so. I don’t know if she’s called Andy, but she hasn’t called me and I’m grateful for that.

Minnie left a message today. I didn’t think I’d ever hear from her again since she never wrote me back and the times between our calls and letters get bigger and bigger each time. She’s got a kid, though, so I understand.

Later…

Got a few funny things to mention, but first, Tom said they took their for-sale sign down next door and that it can mean a few things. That they either decided to switch Realtors, decided to rent it or put a foreclosure on it so the bank claims it. He says that after a house sells they usually keep the sold sign up for 30 days to show off how well they sell houses. He also could’ve decided to sell it himself as some houses are for sale by owner. I think the bank claimed it and he stopped all payments on it. I sure hope it isn’t sold even though I wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Would God really spare me that many more months of peace? I can’t believe he’s already given me peace and quiet since September 1st.

Yesterday and tonight I was a little bummed with PMS and PMS brings out reality. Why didn’t I do the right thing? Why did I go and agree to wanting a family and wanting to do whatever to allow it to happen when he’s only gonna keep playing me for a fool? Why didn’t I say I wanted one but knew better and therefore I wanted nothing to do with it and check out those injections? Why do I set myself up to be lied to and played with? You would think I’d have more respect for myself by now. I’m stupid. I know nothing’s changed here and it never will.

Yesterday Tom told me he’s decided he likes me better fully dressed cuz it makes the times I’m naked more special that way.

Right! None of the other things he suggested and that I tried worked, so why should I believe this one? He’s so full of shit! I just can’t understand why he can’t come out and tell me the truth. Isn’t he getting sick and bored with this game? Or is he still so into it that much? What a way to get your kicks, huh?

I still wish I knew what I did to him to deserve this. He says how much he loves me and that I’m a wonderful wife, so why? Why?! How can someone who’d hang naked in public from a tree by their ankles for me, walk through fire, walk on a bed of nails, and cut their hands off for me be so cruel and mean to me?

Minnie left me another message today but she called before I got up.

I also spoke to Karson today. I figured what the hell? She isn’t exactly another Fran Paiva in that sense, just weird. So, I read her the letter I got from Bob with the changes I made to it and she was laughing about it. Andy and I may call her later.

Tom looked up Excel on the computer and we found stuff about the company. He says it looks good and wants me to go for it. Kim’s gonna be sending me info on it. Right now I don’t know that much about it to write about it, but when and if I do, I will.

Maybe this was sent to me by God as a trade for the baby? Or to keep my mind off of it more? It seems reasonable to think his message behind this is saying he wants me to work, not be a mother. There’s no way he’ll ever allow me a child any more than Tom would. I know, though, that no matter how much I want a kid and no matter how much Tom’s games piss me off, a child would be the worst thing for me. I really do believe that yes, I would be a bad mom and there’s no way I could handle it. Both my mind and body could never handle it. It would just ruin my body, make me insane, steal my life, and ruin my marriage. Although he promises to go to a doctor in April of ‘97, he still insists that a fertility doctor is all in my head and that we’re not gonna need to go. Then he better plan on cumming or doing something else to really convince me that we shouldn’t bother going.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 11, 1995 No mail from Kim today, but I will be getting a few letters from her. No, she and Bob never did anything. She says his touching her on the way to New York was in his head. She said he does try to put his hand on her leg here and there and she removes it.

My hubby with the deadbeat dick will be home soon. We’re gonna move some of the shit we plan to sell out into the garage.

Did I mention how we moved the tag sale up another week due to his working 9 hours at his aunt’s? It’s a legit excuse, but there’ll always be a legit excuse with him to move it up yet another week every damn week.

There weren’t as many birds today when I got up. Maybe 17 or so instead of 28, but there are still a few lingering around the backyard and patio right now hopping for extras.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 10, 1995 Today was a good day, but like I said, there’s always an excuse with Tom. He waits till the end of his day to do anything sexual and he’s always sore or tired. At least he did a damn good job licking my pussy.

We went out to pick up Chanukah cards for Tammy and her family, my parents, and Andy. I got a blank card for Larry and his family and wished them a Happy Merry Chachristmaskah.

We also got a puppy calendar, some candy, and I got ChapStick with a touch of color.

There were nearly 30 birds today. I told you before that there was a new brown and gray one. Now there’s a new white and gray one. How many more birds are there gonna be?

Tom and I went over to Mom and Dad’s and I helped turn Ma’s window crystals so that the sun would reflect them better. I also helped to pull out a fence by their garden. I told her I forgot to bring the catalog and flags, but that I would the next time. I noticed they have a bracket for a flag in front of their house. She’d like the pineapple there and I hope she’s got a pole.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 9, 1995 I’m doing great with my schedule. I wanted to sleep from 4 AM till noon today and that’s just what I did.

Tom’s out now working on his aunt’s water tank. It was her turn to have problems with her water tank. He also mentioned stopping by his parent’s house too, so who knows when he’ll be home?

Later, we’ll probably go out and get Chanukah cards.

Today Mom and Dad S probably got the letter and drawings I surprised them with.

Andy came over last night and gave me my 3 birthday presents. He says my card will be here in a few days.

I showed him my latest cactus drawings and Mom and Dad S.’s painting I’m gonna give them for Christmas. I gave him 3 NPNs to mail for me.

Here’s what he got me: First, he put different to and from labels on each of the 3 gifts. They said: to Jodi from Andy, to Mystery from The Fem, and to Lisa S from Gloria Estefan.

Scented soaps. There were 3 of them in floral scents. Each was a different color, too. Pink, purple, and yellow.

He also got me this really nice vanilla room freshener spray. He had a bottle of it in his car and I told him I really liked it. It does go away fast, but it doesn’t make me sneeze.

Lastly, a super nice gift. A video of Gloria with 17 videos I’ve never seen before. She looks great in some of them and then there are some in which her hair and clothes suck.

Gotta get up at 11 AM tomorrow for the tag sale and now that I remember, I think Tom mentioned us getting cards tomorrow and not today. He said tomorrow or Monday.

Later…

Where the hell is Tom? I’ve been trying to call his parents to see if he can bring some KFC home on the way back, but it’s been busy for the last couple of hours.

Kim called a while ago and she’s in business with some phone company. She said her brother told her about it and that she said she couldn’t believe it. How easy it was I mean, and how promising. I told her to call back Monday night to tell Tom about it. How he’ll feel about it, I don’t know, but at least he can hear about it.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 8, 1995 Andy may or may not be over tonight. His car is fixed, but tonight may not be a good night for him to come over. We’ll just have to wait and see on that one.

Tom will be home soon, but in the meantime, I thought I’d write.

I don’t know if I wrote about this yet, but yesterday sure was a funny sight in the backyard. It rained which was great cuz it cleaned the carbon monoxide out of the air and my lungs are much better. Well, the pigeons didn’t leave when it began raining as I thought they would. Instead, they all lay down on their side and stuck one wing up. I don’t know what the purpose of this was since it didn’t seem to shield their faces from the rain. Tom says he thinks they were taking a shower. Just 1 wing, though?

Andy may be over tonight. He said he’ll call me from work, then we’ll see.

Today I had my clock set for noon, but I woke up 3 minutes before the alarm went off. I’m gonna get up at noon tomorrow too, then at 11 AM on Sunday.

I still wish I could figure out Tom. Why the discussion of how many kids we want when I thought that that was already clear? He intentionally ruins my birthday by telling me he feels he doesn’t want to be a parent with me, then claims to be less emotional a few days later and wants a family with me, then goes and discusses how much of one when he already knows how I feel about that. How does this figure into his game? There’s got to be some catch or something up his sleeve as to why he wants to continue this game and not come out with the truth after so long. I still can’t see him cumming, I still can’t see my being pregnant or us able to have a child, so what’s up? What the hell’s up with him? He’s got me more curious than ever, in some ways.

I finally told him what the psychic told me and he doesn’t believe in those, so all the more I know he’ll want to prove her wrong for saying I’d be pregnant in December, but I still don’t get what in the hell is going on.

He leads me on about a kid for almost two years, then says he doesn’t want one with me, and now he says he still does but wants to discuss how many? Weird. Real damn weird.

Tonight, I’m determined to win over my competition (the TV) and at least get him to go down on me cuz I’m hornier than all hell what with my period being only about 6 days away.

Now I’ll go type up more of 102.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1995 I just had an attack I had to get under control. I became very tight, and wheezy and was hacking my brains out, so I laid in bed and drank coffee, then Tom awoke and whacked my back. I’ve really got to put way more effort into smoking outside.

I may type my next journal with a deader ribbon. I used a new one for 100 and a lot of the pages bleed through.

Thank you, Tom. He suggested I take ibuprofen to reduce my obviously inflamed lower right wisdom tooth and that sure helped.

Then, earlier I dewaxed my good (right) ear. There was a lot of wax in there and Tom said that could be mistaken for tooth problems. I guess he was right cuz it’s virtually painless.

Later…

Tom’s watching TV now, no doubt putting off our “child talk” as long as he can to keep my nerves flying. He knows that waiting to have discussions on a personal matter makes me nervous.

We sold that guy that computer thing for $20.

Andy called and his car is fixed, but he’s not sure if he can make it tonight. He said he’d call me later.

Later…

We had our talk which I’m happy to say went well. OK, now I’ll discuss what we discussed which really wasn’t much at all. I was right on my first guess. He wants to keep the game going. He said he wanted to have a family with me and before discussing the hows of it, all he wanted to know was my feelings on the situation and how much of a family I wanted. I told him my feelings were still the same and that I wanted it, but felt that was just a fantasy and feared my past, the ADD, asthma and all the other things that go with having a kid. He said that lots of people have kids with ADD, asthma and bad pasts and they work around it and don’t let it stop them. I suppose this is true, but like a fool, I followed my heart and not my head and agreed to have one kid with him. I know he’s full of shit still, but I wonder just why he really did want to talk about the pros and cons of having one kid or more than one? Well, I’m 30 and it’s soon to be 1996, but I still say that until I see any white stuff, it’s all a joke. The only negative that I can see to having one kid, which may not be a factor, is it wishing for a sister or a brother. However, I see one as enough to afford, don’t need to put my body through more than one set of labor and delivery which would be a miracle if I survived just that, despite needing a C-section, and don’t need to deal with them fighting with each other.

He wants one too, but brought up some interesting points about having more than one. He feels that two kids end up costing less cuz you know you’re gonna buy things for the younger ones to eventually use and you tend to buy stuff of more quality that lasts longer, rather than cheaper stuff. He also says he thinks they can learn to interact with people in ways that they can’t with friends. Also, it’s easier to say no to two kids than one kid when it comes to certain things.

This conversation still strikes me as weird. He’s known I’ve always said I only wanted one kid and he agreed, so I wonder if he’s got some plan with my being 30 and with it being 1996 soon, but I sure as hell wouldn’t count on nothing without seeing you know what. He even did say he’s not making any promises, but that April of ‘97 is still on, even though he’s sure in his mind and opinion that we won’t need a Dr. Well, we’ll see. I think we both deserve a break in this situation, so maybe, just maybe, something new will happen.

He discussed with me the importance of our angles which helps us both. What I mean by this is that if our angle is off when he’s inside me, it doesn’t feel as good to him and then I get this uncomfortable pressure feeling. Now that we know I can do doggie style laying down where our bodies are lined up where our heads and feet are together, we’ll see. This is his easiest and favorite position. I may have to start off sideways for a while, then roll my body around to put the angle where it’s lined up, but maybe this will be the answer after all. I just hate to once again, after all this time, have anything to get my hopes up for nothing. I might have to get off first by him going down on me or by us being sideways, but he’s right when he said to just wait and experiment with it before assuming what I’ll have to do. Despite my doubts, I’m glad we had this talk and I do feel better. I love this man so much and all I want is for us to be happy. I really hope he’s being as honest as he’s always insisted he’s been and that things get better. I hope things will be happening in our favor, then who knows? It may motivate us in all kinds of areas.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 6, 1995 I’m wide awake cuz I slept nearly 12 hours. A day to be grateful there’s no kid, otherwise I’d have had to have gotten up at 6 AM, rather than noon.

Tom will be home soon. He’s gone from weighing 225 to 196 and now I can really see a difference. It took that long cuz he’s so tall. With me, if I gain or lose two pounds you can see it.

Yesterday I told Tom of my decision and why and read him parts of this journal. I thought he’d be happy, but instead, he was against the whole thing, and it told him once more that I don’t even know him. I’m hungry now, so I will discuss it later.

Later…

Tom just got home and is now eating, so now I can write. Anyway, like I began to say on the last page, Tom said it wasn’t my decision to make alone. Well, what do you expect when he doesn’t cum, tells you you’d say mean things to the kid and when you know this is very true?

I’ve made my decision and I fully intend to stand by it for the many many reasons I’ve gone over in these books. I will take no chances and will certainly not play games with him for two more days, let alone two more years. All he can tease me with now is just sex itself, but I know how to take care of myself.

Last night, though, he went down on me and did a great job.

This “secret” of his back when he was sure I’d be a bad wife but was wrong really has me wondering what other secrets he has. It’s convinced me all the more that he always thought I’d be a bad mom, never wanted a kid regardless, and I couldn’t ever go back on my decision due to this.

He really does seem to do what I suspect. I remember that about a week ago I was discussing with him what made us more negative and positive. I said that if someone cuts me down with things I do or want to do I tend to say, what the hell? They’re probably right and I tend to draw away from whatever it was I wanted.

He used this against me and as an excuse to get out of it and for me to doubt wanting and having a kid. Well, he didn’t completely, but he helped. In other words, I realize on my own, no matter what he says, what a lousy Mom I’d be.

I did say how he’s gonna have a harder time keeping the game going and making excuses forever and he saw the perfect opportunity and escape in my saying that and in his saying I’d be a bad Mom, in his feelings and opinions.

When I mentioned his being more physical and sexual with me, he said, “We all show our love in different ways.”

Yeah, I figured. It’s just not in him to be physical with me or have sex steadily. He likes it in spurts. We have sex for 4-5 days, then we don’t for 4-5 days, and back and forth over and over.

Then he seems to be contradicting and reminds me that you never do know and that I don’t take the steps and chances to be proven wrong. If spreading my legs for his dick isn’t taking a chance to be proven wrong, then what is?

I’m gonna be sending Bob the Reunited Love story with Robin.

If Andy’s car is fixed tomorrow, he’s gonna come over to give me my presents which he says he wants to give to me in person.

Tomorrow some guy’s coming over to buy computer parts for $20. I hope. We hope.

I’m using 1 of my 2 new spiral journals for a story called Accidental Love. I don’t know if I’ll be using the other spiral journal for the next journal yet. We’ll see.

Tom’s working on one of the computers we’re selling, of course, showing no sexual desire for me whatsoever.

I’m gonna be surprising my in-laws with a letter and drawings, so now I shall go begin the drawings.

Later…

Oh, God! Tomorrow Tom said he’d like to talk about this “child thing.” The reason why I almost dread it is cuz I’m afraid it’s gonna get me all emotional, pissed off, upset and I’m gonna have to hear things I’m not exactly gonna want to hear. The truth hurts, but I have to continue facing the truth like I’ve been doing more than ever. Maybe he’s gonna come out and tell me he lied all along and confirm my suspicions that he just went along with me, said he wanted a kid cuz I said that and was too afraid to break my heart with the truth. Or maybe he’s not done playing his game and is gonna say he wants a kid and try convincing me not to give up and give him the so-called “opportunity” so he cannot cum and try fucking with my head again. Well, it won’t work this time around.

I’d love to, one, be able to get pregnant and have a healthy baby, and two, be a good mother, but both of these are strictly fantasy.

As much as it hurts, I refuse to live on fantasies anymore. I’ve got to get on with my life and put my time, energy and effort into things that are possible. Also, I refuse to set myself up to fall and put myself in a position where he can play with my head.

He says he wants to talk about our feelings, although he hasn’t yet made a decision. Yes, he has. He made it when we met and he stuck to it. I’ll be sticking to mine, too.

The day after my birthday, I was watching an episode of Little House when a guy was praying for strength to do the right thing, follow his head and turn his back from searching for gold. He did this as it was dictating his life and keeping him from stuff he should do and was able to do. It’s like that show was meant for me and I shall pray to God to help me turn further and further away from any thoughts of a child, accept never having one, do the right thing for the sake of the kid, our marriage and get on with my life. I know he’ll help me and be proud of me.

Later…

I just left Andy a few messages. I read him Bob’s letter as he wrote it, then read it with my changes.

Earlier I told Tom, “I know I can’t change you, but I sometimes wish your sexual appetite was as high as mine.”

He answered that we had to discuss the “child thing” first. Great answer and great excuse. Like his tongue could cause any accidents? And as if his dick that he refuses to let cum could? Why couldn’t he just tell me he didn’t want to or was too tired?

After I finish this book, yes, I will use the other spiral one (the fish cover) as the next journal. If this story goes over the 1st spiral one (the flowers) I’ll wait for another spiral one to put that part of it into there.

I’m at a point now where I don’t feel like doing anything, but am nowhere ready for sleep yet. Not with all I slept today.

The pigeons really make a mess with their shit on the patio and pool area, so I began feeding them at the end of the yard on the block wall bricks as I did in the beginning. This has been useless, though, cuz they come onto the pool area and the patio right up to the back door after they ate with hopes of my giving them seconds.

It shouldn’t, cuz there are so many more pros to not having a kid, but the thought of never having a kid tears me up. What choice do I have, though? Even if I could’ve been a good mother and if the DES and God would allow it, Tom never will, no matter what he says. There’s nothing I could ever say or do that’ll make him give me a child anyway. He’s just soooo against it. Not just cuz of me. He doesn’t want to deal with it and have to give up time he barely has for it. He’d also be jealous. If he doesn’t say he never wanted one tomorrow, or that he “suddenly” doesn’t, he’ll hope we both say we want one, so he can play, “Let’s tease her and not put my actions where my mouth is.”

Someone really hurt this man. If it isn’t any kind of animosity toward me, then he’s just plain old angry for some reason. Someone had to hurt him, set him up and really let him down bad for him to be doing this to me. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. I mean, if he wanted a kid that bad, why wait even a week on making a doctor’s appointment? He can’t be that embarrassed about seeing a doctor, so it’s gotta be cuz he’s full of shit, he knows it and knows he can cum.

It’s like, gee thanks. Did he really think I was that gullible, naïve and stupid enough to buy his bull? Obviously. Maybe he figured I would due to having barely any experience with guys.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 5, 1995 Yesterday was one of the shittiest and hardest days of my life, but before I get into that, let me say that I got a nice birthday card from Evie and her family. She wrote that I made her day and that she loved the letter and the drawings and will be surprising me soon with a letter. Things are hectic there, she says. Yeah, I’d love to see a woman with a baby find the time to write letters.

I also spoke to Mom and Dad. Dad asked me how it felt to be 30 and I told him I didn’t feel any different. I asked him how it felt when he turned 30 and he said he couldn’t remember cuz it was so long ago. I said, “That’s right! I should’ve known better than to ask that.” He also said that having his youngest turn 30 makes him feel kind of old.

I also got 2 letters from Kim and she enclosed another 70 pages worth of letters she got from Bob. I don’t know if I want to copy all this! Bob also sent me a 2-page letter today and I figured what the hell? He never says anything new, so there’s no use in saving his letter. So, I put comments of my own in to send Kim and maybe I’ll copy it in. He said he had no idea what “the calls” were all about and he hasn’t gotten any more letters. So he did get the letters. I figured so.

I was hurt that Tom didn’t even make me a card on the computer, but like I said, he wanted to see to it that not only was this the worst birthday, but the worst day of my being here. Tom insists that he didn’t mean to ruin my birthday and that I’m entitled to my own opinion. Well, what better way to ruin someone’s birthday than to tell them, “I still want a kid, but I don’t think I want to be a parent with you cuz if you can say mean things to me, you can say mean things to the child.” And also, what better cover-up for the truth which is, “I don’t want a child,” than to say he doesn’t want one cuz of me? He reminded me of how I said I’d do anything for him.

Then he told me a story. He told me that until he married me he was as sure as I am that I can’t have a child and that I would be a bad wife. He said all the evidence was there saying I’d be a bad wife, cuz of my past, my lifestyle before, etc. He said he didn’t think I’d probably be a bad wife, but that he knew I’d be a bad wife. But he loved me enough, anyway. Then, after we married, I proved him wrong, he said. His point of telling me this was to remind me that you never do know, but he made himself as clear as can be for the first time as to where he stands about having a kid. Not as truthfully or as bluntly as I’d like, but it doesn’t matter anymore cuz what he said was close enough and also cuz I’ve made an agonizing decision, regardless of how right my suspicions are about his never wanting a kid.

At first I thought that maybe a kid would help us to watch what we say all the more and not fight as much cuz that seems to be what the bulk of our fights are all about. He disagreed. He’s probably right according to the statistics of what kids do to couples and there’s no sense in doing it and finding out if we’re wrong like he was wrong about my being a bad wife.

I started to think that everyone says bad things every now and then, but then it hit me harder than ever before that it goes deeper than that. So, I made a totally heartbreaking decision, but I know it will make Tom proud of me and certainly God and even my family if they knew.

Tom brought up a good point. He said never before today did he fear having a kid cuz of me and that sometimes one has to not do something they want cuz it’s for the best.

They say it’s best to follow your heart and not your head, but this time around I’m gonna follow my head. People can say it’s wrong and that I’m kissing Tom’s ass and giving up what I want to please him and call me a sucker and say that I’m jumping the gun, but I realized like never before just what a lousy mother I’d be. I’ve always known this, but now I know like never before. I must never have a child no matter how much it hurts. No matter how much I feel like it’s the end of the world and like Tom died or something. I must make sure that no matter how I feel, I do not selfishly give in to my desires and allow myself to get pregnant. I said yesterday I wouldn’t get an abortion if I found out I was pregnant, even though I’ve given up all hopes of it, but yes I would. I’d have to. I’d have to save the poor child from being born only to be the victim of my abuse. Tom must make sure he never cums unless we use some type of birth control. I could never handle being a mom. I could never learn or handle things as far as caring for them or going with no sleep and no life. My body could never take it, either.

I finally prayed to God and said I was sorry for asking him for a child and that I knew it was wrong and selfish. I knew that it was wrong to ask Tom and that that was selfish and that while his voice may say yes, his actions would just say no. I know I can’t make Tom do anything that may make him feel uncomfortable when he has doubts and fears just like I do. I said I knew he’d be proud of me if I did the right thing and that I was ready to do so. All I asked him for was to please give me the strength to get over it and not feel so depressed about never having a child. I know I’ll feel rather devastated for a while, cuz these things take time. However, I’m sure I’ll get over it with time and that time will be my best friend. I just hope Tom lets me get it out and mourn not having a kid as much as I need to so I can get it out of my system so I can move on. I also said I was sorry for saying that he only gives bad people kids cuz I’m a perfect example of one who’d be a bad Mom that can’t have a kid.

I meant it when I said I’d do anything for Tom after all he’s done for me. I’d even rob a bank for him, but I owe him my not asking for a child. His desires and needs and the needs of the child I’d abuse if we had one are much more important than any desires or needs I could have. Also, I said that with all the bad things I’ve done in my life, I don’t deserve or have any rights whatsoever to have a child. This is a case where it’s OK to assume and prejudge what kind of a mother I’d be.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 4, 1995 As I knew it would be, this birthday sucks so far. Tom’s getting me back for ruining his birthday last June. To go over it again, well, last June I was still having a hard time accepting the fact that I could never have a kid and was really upset about that as well as his not cumming. Back then was when the truth was just starting to hit me so it was a very depressing time for me. I wasn’t able to accept and say to myself back then, “OK, he did a raunchy thing by lying to me. He knew damn good and well he never intended to cum and he sure as hell doesn’t want a kid. I will never forgive him and I shouldn’t have to, but I love him to death nonetheless, no one’s perfect, we all say we’re gonna do things we don’t mean to do and there’s still so much good in him. Like 95% of him. So, just accept it and know that a kid was never fated to be anyway and that it’s not for you.”

He’s the kind of guy, like me, who gives what he gets.

Now while he does have a problem with being asked certain requests, he’s gotten better, so I wasn’t surprised when he used my asking him to please make sure he puts my coffee can covers on tightly as an excuse to make my day rather lousy. He then said OK, pretty solemnly, then walked away. I asked where he was going, and he said he was just staying out of my way. Then I said, “Oh, yeah, I get it. Payback’s due cuz of what happened on your birthday.” Then I said we could fight about it and he said he didn’t want to ever fight with me. Yeah, sure. I’m sure he got a kick out of it much as all this teasing with sex/kid.

I said nothing was going on (he asked me, probably hoping I’d bring up the issue of a kid), but that I could make something up if it’d make him happy. He just muttered goodbye and left.

Someone’s next door right now with a big truck and I saw someone cleaning the front door. I wouldn’t be too shocked if someone moved in today since both Tom and God are gonna see to it that I don’t have too good of a day as payback for my spoiling Tom’s birthday. The only difference is that I didn’t mean to ruin Tom’s birthday last June. He intends to ruin mine. I can almost bet he’s at work now thinking of how I’m still not pregnant and laughing his ass off about it.

How can I feel so loved and blessed by this man, yet so manipulated and played with? For the last week, he played with me on the issue of sex like crazy. Now we had fun over his days off, laughing and joking and this and that, but in between, I had to deal with his fucking games.

Saturday, he went down on me, then I went to take care of him and he said he didn’t feel like screwing. We hadn’t screwed for days before this. Now you tell me…what kind of red-blooded man can do that? Before going down on me he was in the bathroom for a while claiming to have to take a dump. I think that was when he relieved himself. If I relieved myself 5 minutes prior to doing whatever that took me only 10 minutes to do, I wouldn’t be in the mood to fuck around either.

It’s like he’s even teasing me during sex. He used to almost always lick my pussy perfectly, but now he’s constantly going too high, too low, too light, or too hard.

I just wish I knew what I did to make him feel the need to do this to me. All I ever did was ask to have a child and help with the singing. His voice said yes, but his actions said no. I may no longer want to be a singer and a part of me may want the kidless, but must I deal with this year after year? It’s like, OK I get the message. We won’t have a kid and I won’t sing, but do you have to keep playing games with me?

I also hope he knows I won’t be going to any doctor in April of ‘97, but as if he’ll be crying over the loss of that anyway. Right! That’d make his day and if someone didn’t know any better, they’d think he won the lottery.

He’s still crying “no opportunity” and that he needs time. Well, it’s been two years, so how many more does he need? I’m not playing this game year after year. He’s made sure he’s been taken care of by not letting us have a kid and now it’s time for me to take care of myself and I will ask Dr. Rausch about that injection the next time I see him. If I don’t, this will go on year after year and he’ll insist the injection will “ruin his life” year after year. There’s no way in hell I’ll allow myself to put up with that. I respect myself. And if someone wants to call that selfish, let them.

The only positive thing there is to say about sex is that I finally got into doggie style, but not the usual way. After he went inside me when I was on my back, I rolled over on my side with him still in there and he laid behind me also on his side like usual.

Since I’ve brought it up, he keeps going more often after I cum just to please me and also as a cover for the truth about him. Right as he’s about to cum he stops, tensing his muscles to stop himself and I know this can be done cuz even I could do that to myself.

I just don’t see how he can live like that. That’d drive me crazy.

Just the other day he said he still felt our dreams were still inevitable. This isn’t what he told me a few weeks ago. A few weeks ago, he told me he used to feel that way, but is no longer sure of it.

Yesterday he said we could screw at the end of the day when he knew he’d be too tired and it’d be much easier for him to hold back and all I did was say that I thought he liked it better in the morning. Then he said that cuz I was acting like it was a big deal (which I wasn’t) he thought it’d be best if we didn’t screw.

Finally, I screamed at him demanding that he either screw me or he doesn’t and he keeps his mouth shut. I’m getting so sick of his shit that for an instant I felt like grabbing him and beating the shit out of him. This is a man I know I could severely hurt, so I just ran out of the room.

I finally figured out another thing about God and again I wonder what took me so long.

Remember how I said I wondered why God had to help Tom to be the way he is (yes I do believe that God does have some control in the way we are) when all God has to do is make sure I’m sterile? Well, I realized that these are two separate issues and that all my life there’s always something going on with me that’s weird, unusual or abnormal. It’s part of my plan. If it weren’t for his not cumming, it’d be something else. God felt he had to do this cuz I resolved some of the ordinary issues in my life. Except for the sleeping schedule problem, that is. God’s always gotta do something. That means that if Tom came, he’d go do something else.

Or maybe God really does hate gays and cuz I’ve slept with women, I get paid back by a guy who won’t get off and by my never having a child.

I want so badly to tease Tom back with issues of sex, but I can’t cuz it’s no tease to him. I really believe this guy is not one bit attracted to me sexually and that while he only does stuff with me when it’s convenient to him, sex is all for me and he wants no part of it. Oh, I know he loves me, but there’s no sexual desire for him in me. It’s all for show when he grabs my ass or something which isn’t that often compared to the average guy.

While I’ve gotten way, way used to his low sexual drive, if he were like Brenda or Kacey for a month, I’d be more than happy for him to always go back to his usual ways.

Anyway, it was an hour or so after I screamed about his teasing me and enjoying it that he did me, but only to please me.

He brought up his hoping I wouldn’t stay angry at him and I think he meant about the kid. Well, like I said, I’ve gotten used to the facts and accept them as they are, but whether or not I want a kid is beside the point. The point is that he told me a great big lie and that’s nothing people ever forget. I’m not as angry, I do forgive him, but I will never forget.

He did admit to being wrong about giving me timetables, saying that I pressured him for them which is true. Every month to every week he says he’s gonna cum. He said he’s not gonna say we’re gonna have a kid in 3 years or tomorrow. That’s nice, but what he really needs to do is say the truth. That we never will.

When someone does something bad to you in a big way, an apology always helps, even though it can’t undo what’s been done. I still want the day to come when he spills the truth out.

You see, time really is my best friend and without an apology, I’m still gonna get over it and accept it, even though I’ll always remember it cuz that’s all one can do and that’s normal, but an apology might help finalize it.

Later…

Andy called and we talked for a while. He said he’ll be over with my birthday present on Wednesday or Thursday. He said he wanted to come today but his car’s being worked on. Part of God’s doing? Yup.

Anyway, while we were talking I was gonna call the Springfield weather line, but then I said, “Let’s be Jewish and call the free 800 number to the Sheridan hotel.” The woman that answered said it was cold and to bring all kinds of stuff to keep warm if I were to visit. Stuff like warm coats, mittens, scarves, etc. Andy and I were cracking up.

My right wisdom teeth are bugging me. Just what I need. They’ve been giving me discomfort for 3 days now and I hope to hell they don’t get infected. I know they’re gonna have to be yanked. I just hope we have the money to deal with it before it turns into any big deal if it does.

After I spoke to Andy, Tammy called. She’s been pretty busy. She asked me what Mom and Dad sent and I told her. She also said she forgot to mail my birthday card, but I really wonder if she’s got one. She isn’t into sending cards.

As I said, I spoke to Larry last night who was beat. I talked to Sandy much longer and it was really cool to talk to her. That was my first real grown-up conversation with her since I was still practically a kid back when we last saw each other.

I was rubbing in the cold and snow she has to deal with and she was cracking up over how I asked that bitch Stacey at the Vista Ventana if I could store a bike if I got one in the cellar. She was laughing at how Tom and most people out here pronounce the r in the word quarter. When I told her Tom pronounces it, she said, “Oh, brother!” Tom was laughing at that.

I talked to Jenny really quickly before she got on the phone and she and Sandy both told me Jenny was going to send me a letter with some drawings. Sandy said she loved my drawings and that Jenny liked the one with the plant on a hanger. That’s nice, cuz I thought that one came out shitty. Sandy said Jenny’s drawings weren’t too good, but that’s OK. I’d just love to get a letter from her with whatever she can draw if she’s for real. You know me, though. I don’t get my hopes up till I see it.

Tom showed me some new computer games yesterday, then we scanned my drawings. However, they look like shit cuz the scanner is an old shitty one and the lighting was bad. We used the camcorder and that colorized them, but they still print out shitty, so we’re gonna have to rescan them.

I finally got him to look at the music room window. He fixed it so I can open and close it but he said that cuz it was bent he didn’t want to mess with it too much in case it broke. Right now we sure as hell don’t have the extra money to buy glass for a windowpane.

More and more I find myself hoping to be a computer journalist and not writing by hand. These hands can keep up with my thoughts on a keyboard much faster than they can holding a pen.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 3, 1995 Larry just called. He said he wanted to call me cuz he'd be busy tomorrow and also cuz he didn't think he'd be able to get through with Tammy yacking away.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 2, 1995 Tom’s at work till noon. Meanwhile, I’m working on my story and I’ve printed out 64 pages of it.

I drew some really good pictures of a few different cactuses as well as a mule deer.

Now it’s time to type letters, so they can go out Monday.

Later…

Right now Tom’s clearing out space in the garage so we can set up for the tag sale.

He has shown practically no interest in me sexually. I’m surprised I’m not bothered by it. Maybe it’s cuz I’m sick of the same old shit. Unless someone’s going down on me to get off, sex is so fun with someone like him who never gets off. If he were constantly all over me or if he got off every other time, that’d be different. He’s just gotten to be old and boring news when it comes to sex. He’ll always be the same. We do whatever every day for about 4 days, then he won’t touch me. It’s always the same old shitty boring cycle that goes on while he insists he wants to “progress” sexually. He’ll always cry no opportunity and tells me what will help him cum. I can’t help him. There’s nothing at all I can do for him. He needs to help himself and come out of denial and let us use some form of birth control. Then hopefully his games, teasing and lies will stop. Then I won’t feel as abnormal and uncomfortable about sex being just for me and not mutual, should he remain as he is.

He told me he wouldn’t feel comfortable about jerking off in front of me cuz he wouldn’t get off by it. Well, of course not. That’d be too much of a dead giveaway and he doesn’t want to rub it in or tease me that much. He wants to keep me wondering, suspecting, and thinking about it. So, if he were to cum, it’d be awfully obvious and spoil the game. Then there’d be nothing to tease about.

Otherwise, we’re getting along much better. I’m having fewer depression/anger spells over never having a kid and we’re fighting much less. I think, though, it’s cuz I’m so used to his ways now and know he’s set in them, won’t budge and I’m moving into the next phase which is acceptance. Even the thought of seeing a doctor in ‘97 has got me wondering if I’ll get cold feet when the time comes.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 1, 1995 Yesterday I got two canvases, brush cleaner, a brush-cleaning tub, and two new spiral journals.

We checked out a paper store, but all they had were kits to glue books and plastic spirals. I want metal ones cuz they’re sturdier. The damn paper puncher costs $300.

A part of me wishes I got a puzzle instead and a doggie mug instead of the stuff for painting. I took a shot at painting today and I did a nice sky, mountain, grass, and an evergreen tree, but I fucked up my other tree and the area around that. I don’t know if I can salvage that area, but I can’t try to fix it till it’s dry. If I try painting over a blue area with green, for example, the two colors will only blend together.

I took a tiny canvas and painted it pinkish-red. When this dries, I’ll paint white lily flowers on it with green leaves around it. Then I’ll outline it for contrast with brown using a liner. Also using a liner, I’ll put brown veins in the leaves. I’d really love to paint different cactuses which I’ve got pictures of, but there are so many tiny lines going in several different directions, that it seems like it may be impossible to do both with the liner as well as with the knife.

I have another idea for the big canvas. To make 6 squares, 3 on the right and 3 on the left. Paint each square a different color, then do a different flower design in each square after the background colors dry.

[apirateslifefor--smee]

Sunday, November 12 -- Background NPC: Write about a moment of your character’s life from the perspective of an NPC character. 

Time For Tea | Mary

Warnings for: xenophobia

Mr. Arnold didn’t invite street rats ‘round for tea because he wanted to impress them. Or maybe he did, but not in the same way he wanted to impress the bankers and businessmen whom I typically served. It was about putting them in their place, impressing upon them his vast power and resources to crush them if they stepped a toe out of line. He never said this, but we all knew it. 

Still, I was to treat them like any other honored guest. That much was communicated to us, quite directly, by Mrs. Arnold. 

Samuel was small and pudgy, eternally ruddy-cheeked as though he was permanently in a state of stepping in from the cold. He looked familiar, though I couldn’t initially place why. I didn’t ask, anyway— I wasn’t supposed to make idle chatter with the guests. I took his (ill-fitting) coat and disappeared to the behind-the-curtains places staff are supposed to disappear.

I always found these teatimes odd, the ones with youths not much older than I, whom I might have lived and worked alongside if certain events in our lives had gone differently. And sometimes I wondered if that was part of the point. To remind us of our own place, too.

Mrs. Barton piled my tray high with scones just as I finished making the tea, hardly giving me a second look. I knew she didn’t like me. I wondered if it had to do with the fact that I had lied about my age for this job, but I suspected it had more to do with my accent, with the fact that she probably believed my family was here to take jobs away from people who had been here longer. I’d hoped she might see something in me the way Mr. Arnold sees something in the young men he takes under his wing, but at this point I think she refuses even to look.

It was alright. Every week, I collected my carefully-printed check and took it to the bank, and there would be just a bit of money left after all the family’s expenses that I told myself I could one day use for my education. Maybe.

But it was hard not to feel jealous as I round the corner, overhearing Mr. Arnold lecturing Samuel on politics and philosophy.

Of course, it was all horribly boring. But it was a small price to pay. I could already see it— just a few years of coming ‘round for tea and Samuel would be reinvented, in jackets that actually fit him and a refined manner of speaking that made people believe he was born in this part of London and raised at a posh public school in the country. Not that he was—

Well, bloody hell. Now I knew where I had seen Samuel before. Sam, as I’d known him then. I could see it on his face, too, that he knew where he’d seen me before, too. 

I kept my expression frozen, though, as I set the tray down on the table. And Sam rearranged his expression to a neutral one just as quickly. Mr. Arnold thanked me, and I scurried away to my next task. It was all a carefully-choreographed dance: not just the things Mr. Arnold and his company did to impress one another, but my list of duties as well.

The dance continued— topping up the tea and scones, helping Mrs. Barton with the cleaning, tending to the fire, standing by in case I was needed for anything. Eventually, Mr. Arnold instructed me, as he often did, to show our guest to the washroom.

It was only when we had made it to the hallway that Sam finally spoke to me, his eyes wide with surprise. “Mary,” he breathed. “How did you- what are the chances- how are you?”

“Sam,” I replied bluntly, under my breath. “Don't do this. I know from this point forward how this is going to go. You’re going to go back in there and pretend you’ve got no idea who I am-”

“Well-”

“You don’t have to defend yourself. I wasn’t expecting otherwise.”

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again.

“Don’t make promises we both know you won’t keep. We’re both trying to make our own way. I don’t want your help, or your pity, or any of that.” I knew better than that, at this point. “But send Stefan my best, alright? If you still talk to him.”

I could tell from the look on his face that he didn’t.

“This is where I leave you,” I added, arriving at the washroom. “Goodbye, Sam.”

It wasn’t, and yet it was. I would continue to see Sam for years after, as his bond with Mr. Arnold grew stronger. And then he was off to Eton and I remained in London, still nursing my small pile of savings. That, nobody could take from me. 

He forgot about me, I’m sure. I forgot about him, too, for the most part. But one weekend I took my grandchildren to the magical town where a fall festival was happening and saw a ruddy-cheeked man instructing a younger person at a game of darts, and I had the oddest feeling that I’d seen a ghost. Or perhaps it was just someone else. These old men in their fine coats and polished speech tend to blend together, don’t they?

[fanfarress]

- AI-Less Whumptober -

day thirteen, surprise sunday

prompt(s): defiance, "take me instead."

fandom: Wolverine Frogs (my debut novel ayy)

Joey stands over Ethan, hands bloodied from the beating. Ethan’s face is a mess of cuts and bruises, his breath labored as he lay sprawled in the dirt. The night sky looms above them, an eerie silence hanging in the air as the others watch from a distance, uncertain of what was about to happen.

"You failed," Joey growls, pacing back and forth. "You promised we'd get Polly back, that everything would go as planned. But now she's gone, and you're still breathing?"

Ethan coughs, spitting out blood. "I didn't know... it wasn't supposed to—"

"Shut up!" Joey roars, delivering another hit to Ethan’s side, causing him to cry out in pain. "You don’t get to talk! Not after what you’ve done."

That's bound to leave a mark.

Lara stands off to the side, her heart pounding in her chest. She knows Joey is dangerous—had seen it before—but this is different. There is a rage in him now that she hadn't seen, something darker, more unhinged. She glances at Ethan, then back at Joey. Ethan had lied to them, manipulated them, but did he deserve to die for it?

That's a little extreme, isn't it?

Joey snarls. "You deserve this, Ethan. You’re nothing but a snake, and snakes need to be cut down—"

"Joey, stop," Lara's voice comes out softer than she intended. She steps forward, hesitant but determined. "We can’t do this."

Joey shoots her a glare. "Why not? After everything he's done? After Polly? He deserves worse!"

"I know," Lara says, her voice trembling. She looks down at Ethan, whose eyes were filled with fear, then back at Joey. "But this isn't the way."

Then what? We just let him go? Let him walk away like nothing happened?"

Lara swallows hard. She can feel the weight of the decision pressing down on her. There is no easy way out of this, no clean resolution. But if Joey kills Ethan, there would be no coming back from it—not for any of them.

"Take me instead," she blurts out before she could stop herself.

Joey freezes, his eyes narrowing as he turns to face her fully. "What?"

"Take me," Lara repeats, her voice stronger this time. She steps closer to Joey, looking him in the eye. "You want someone to pay, right? Then let it be me."

"Lara, no—" Ethan croaks, struggling to sit up, but another hit from Joey silences him.

Joey's eyes search hers, confused and angry. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Lara takes a deep breath, trying to steady her shaking hands. "He was my friend. If you kill Ethan, it won’t fix anything. It won’t bring Polly back. But if you need someone to take the fall, then let it be me."

The silence that followed is deafening. Joey stares at her, his expression unreadable. The others watch from the shadows, too afraid to intervene, too shocked to speak.

"Lamb..." Joey's voice wavered slightly. "I can't—"

"You can," she insists, stepping even closer, until she can almost feel the tension radiating off him. "You can blame me. You can hate me. But don’t do this. Not like this."

For a moment, Joey looks as though he might break. He looks between at Ethan, then back at Lara, struggling with the choice before him. "You want your friend to live?" Joey asks. "Then you have to stay. You have to stay here forever. You don't get to leave."

"Fine."

"Good answer, Lamb."

Lara exhales, relief flooding through her, though she knows this is far from over. Ethan lay motionless, gasping for air, and she knows that they were still standing on dangerous ground. Joey stalks off into the night, leaving Lara standing over Ethan, her mind racing.

"You... saved me," Ethan whispers, his voice hoarse.

"Don’t thank me," Lara mutters, her eyes cold as she stared down at him. "This isn't over. You still have to make things right."

[kpopfanfictrash]

Love to Hate (Ch. 5)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Fuck Buddies / Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you've done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

Rating: 18+ (this chapter is not explicit)

Warnings: excessive alcohol consumption, some dirty talk

Word Count: 11,444

“Yes, that’s correct,” you say, as patiently as you can after being passed around to no less than three servers and waiting on hold for nearly six minutes. “I need a table for five two nights from now. Yes – for Sunday evening.”

Movement in your doorway causes you to look up and, upon seeing Hoseok, you straighten. He mouths something at you, motioning towards the phone cradled between your neck and ear. Unable to make it out, you shake your head once and gesture for him to hold on.

Exhaling, Hoseok leans against your doorframe and folds his arms.

On the other end of the line, you listen to silence while the hostess at Avli searches through reservations. Avli on the Coast is a beautiful restaurant with an outdoor patio you’re praying has a table large enough to accommodate five people. You found out this morning an important donor is visiting and wants to talk business. Read: they want to be wined, dined, and reminded how important they are to the cause.

When the hostess returns, she informs you that yes, she has a table. There’s been a last-minute cancellation and normally, they hold the table for walk-ins, but you’ve brought them so much business over the years.

“Thank you!” you gush, prompting Hoseok’s lips to twitch. “Seven in the evening is perfect. I will see you then. Thanks, again.”

Hanging up the phone, you slump behind your desk.

“Avli is a go,” you say by way of greeting. “Managed to get a reservation for Sunday with the Gunderson’s.”

Giving a thumbs-up, Hoseok enters your office to shut the door. “Well, hopefully my news is better than the prospect of dinner with the Gunderson’s.”

“Anything is.”

Taking a seat before your desk, Hoseok reaches to pluck a fidget spinner from the colorful basket. A gift from Seokjin the last time he came to your office. Twirling this between his fingers, Hoseok glances upward.

“Liam called,” he announces.

You pause. “Liam… Jessen?”

A nod. “Yep, that’s him.”

“Oh.” On the outside, you try and play it cool but on the inside, your heart is racing. “That’s interesting. What did he want?”

“He wants to invest in Clean Ocean.”

It takes a beat for Hoseok’s words to sink in but once they do, your eyes widen.

“Wait – really?” you blurt before your excitement can be concealed. “How much?”

Hoseok grins. “Guess.”

“This isn’t as fun a game as you think.”

“Come on, guess.”

“Uh, I don’t know.” You shrug. “Half of what we need.”

“More.”

You blink. “Three quarters?”

“More!”

“… the full amount?”

Laughing, Hoseok holds up two fingers. “Double what we lost when that investor pulled out.”

Jaw dropping, you struggle to comprehend what Hoseok is saying. Double the money you lost from that asshole CEO. If this is true, you won’t need to push off the coastal ecosystem project to next year. Not only that, but you’ll be able to increase the project’s scope.

“This is… huge,” you say after a moment.

“I know.” Hoseok beams. “It’d solve our funding issues and then some.”

“Wow,” you exhale, sitting back in your chair. “Is this what it’s like to have money? It feels…” Pausing, you frown. “Awfully unsettling.”

“Let’s not go that far. We’re far from being stable.”

“Good. All the best plans are.”

Snorting, Hoseok pushes his chair back to stand. “Alright,” he says, pulling out his phone. “I’m forwarding to you Liam’s contact information. I already spoke to him and sent his lawyers the preliminary donor agreement, but I’m sure he’d appreciate a call.”

“Of course,” you say, already opening your laptop. “I’ll make sure I call him before I leave today.”

“This isn’t final, you know,” Hoseok warns as he leaves. “His lawyers still need to review the terms, our lawyers need to review after and it’s possible he could pull out or change the amount by the end of it all.”

“I know, I know,” you say with a wave of your hand. “You’re talking to the Queen of Pessimism, Hoseok.”

“Oh, right. Forgot your formal title.”

You smile as he leaves though, shutting the door behind him. Left alone with your thoughts and laptop, you attempt to finish other work but find yourself thoroughly distracted by Hoseok’s proclamation. Definitely better than dinner with the Gunderson’s.

Smoothing your shirt, you swivel in your chair until you face the window. The view from your office is less than stellar – that of an old clothing factory – but beyond it you can see a glimmer of ocean. It’s late in the afternoon and you can see the sun sink steadily towards the horizon, bathing the city in an orange-gold light.

Glancing at your clock, you debate whether it’s too late to call. It is Friday after all, and Liam seems like the type of guy to have weekend plans. After much deliberation, you decide it’s worth it to try.

Picking up the phone, you dial Liam’s number and tap your nails on the desk while you wait for him to answer.

“Hello?”

Shit – as soon as you hear Liam’s voice, you remember how attractive he is. His voice conjures memories of the fundraiser, staring dreamily into those deep, hazel eyes. Stands of golden-brown hair flopping across his forehead, with cheekbones that could –

“Um, hello? Is someone there?”

Realizing you haven’t said a word yet, you cringe. “Uh– yes. Sorry,” you blurt, ignoring your pounding heart. “I accidentally pressed mute. This is Y/N, of the Clean Ocean organization. My assistant, Hoseok, told me you called.”

“Ah – Y/N!”

Liam sounds pleased, draining some of your tension. His smile is audible; a trait you find crippling in the opposite sex. People who can smile-speak should add that to their resume as a third language.

“I’m so glad you called,” Liam continues. “Hoseok and I spoke briefly about my company’s interest in Clean Ocean, but I was hoping to discuss with you, as well.”

“Well.” You settle back in your chair. “I’m glad to fulfill your expectations so quickly.”

Liam chuckles. “I’m not sure how much Hoseok said, but Infinity Motors has been looking for new organizations to sponsor for quite some time now. Like I said at your fundraiser, I’ve been interested in Clean Ocean for a few months.”

“I remember,” you say.

What you don’t add is you remember the part which came after. The part where Liam said specifically, he was interested in youand how you run Clean Ocean.

“I have to say.” Liam hesitates. “I’m kind of embarrassed by how enthusiastic I was that night.”

Immediately, you break into a smile. “Listen, if the worst thing you did was tell me how dedicated you are to preserving the ocean, that’s a pretty good first impression.”

“Tell you? I practically shouted it.”

“A statement worth shouting, in my opinion.”

“I guess so,” he laughs. “Honestly, that’s part of why it took me so long to contact you.”

“Part of? What were the other reasons?”

“Convincing my board to donate more than they originally agreed to,” he says bluntly. “And, well. I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”

“You’re a hard man to forget, Liam Jessen.”

Another chuckle. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

“I’d say so.”

Liam pauses, allowing the silence to lengthen. Glancing out the window again, you realize the sun has nearly sunk.

“And,” Liam adds, his tone shifting. “There was that conversation you witnessed between me and Jungkook. I’m afraid I didn’t… come off very well.”

Uncertain, you blink. You haven’t thought about the conversation since the fundraiser and are surprised to hear Liam bringing it up. It’s hard for you to remember exactly what was said. You recall tension between them, but the same can be said for a lot of people in your world.

“It’s no problem,” you say at last. “Whatever your relationship is with Mr. Jeon, that won’t affect your involvement with Clean Ocean.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Especially since the two of you seemed close.”

When he says this, you freeze, your hand flat on your desk. Your mind immediately jumps to a billion possibilities – is there a chance Liam saw you in the hall? Or possibly he noticed your interaction with the other donor.

Quelling your panic, you carefully say, “We do know each other, yes.”

You offer nothing more than this, and luckily Liam decides this is sufficient.

“Oh, good,” he says. “Because I’ve been thinking since the fundraiser, and I think you and I could make something great together.”

Liam’s use of the words you and I doesn’t escape you, nor does his elimination of your organization name. Pulse quickening, you lean back in your chair.

“Oh, do you?”

“Mm.” Liam’s tone is light, almost teasing. “My company is all about sustainable means of technology, and part of that involves coming to terms with the legacy the auto industry has left. It’s a purposeful investment we’re making in cleaning oil disasters.”

“Oh,” you say, blinking at the sudden shift in tone. “Right. I think that’s an admirable effort and Clean Ocean is more than happy to help you with that goal.”

“Wonderful. And who from your organization would be helping, might I ask?”

“Well, I’m not sure,” you say, brow furrowing. “We have many talented individuals on staff. Once the agreement is finalized, we can discuss who’d be best equipped to handle your company’s needs.”

“And would one of these many talented individuals be you?”

Thrown by the question, you find yourself at a loss.

“Well… possibly, depending on timing.”

“I’m sorry for pressing.” Liam gives a low laugh. “It’s just, I think you have a lot of great ideas on the future of conservation. I’d love to talk more about the potential partnership.”

“I’m sure that we will.”

“What about next Friday night? Are you free?”

Pausing, you stare at the door to your office. Is… Liam asking you out? His tone and the way he phrases the question sounds like he might be, but you’re talking about your organization and his company.

There are legal agreements being drawn up and he’s about to become a donor – it would be a conflict of interest to date if that’s what he wants. As soon as you think this, you push it aside. Likely, that’s not the case and Liam is only interested in what your company can do for his.

“Dinner is good,” you say. “Would you like me to make a reservation?”

“No need for that, I can do it. My assistant will be in touch with Hoseok to work out the details – does that work?”

“That sounds good!”

Not a date. Very much not a date.

“Oh, and Y/N?”

He pauses long enough for the air between you to thicken.

“Yes?”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

Butterflies take flight in your stomach and, despite every reason this might be a bad idea, you can’t help but smile.

“Likewise,” you say.

“Good.” Another speak-smile. “I’ll see you next Friday.”

“See you then.”

Before he can respond, you hang up the phone and take a deep breath. You’re going to see Liam again: the thought sparks equal excitement and nausea.

Liam is attractive, successful and has every known quality you look for in a partner. Most importantly, he pulled himself upward on his own accord. There were no billionaire parents bankrolling his ventures. Whatever grades Liam received, he got on his own. If you did date, you wouldn’t feel the need to worry about who’d see you, who’d gossip and what incestuous feud you might be walking into.

Although. Liam knows Jungkook, and their conversation at your fundraiser remains something of a question mark. There was history between them, and you dimly remember coming to Jungkook’s aid. Something you never expected to happen, which means Liam must have truly been in the wrong.

Still – everyone has someone who gets under their skin. Jungkook got under yours at first and sometimes he still does. You can hardly hold it against Liam for feeling the same.

Regardless, there’s a new donor in line for Clean Ocean and a prospective dinner with Liam on the horizon. Things are looking up and as you reach for your coffee, you return to your laptop.

Several messages are waiting in a thread from both Seokjin and Hoseok.

Hoseok: crisis averted, Seokjin – as it turns out, you can keep that trust fund to yourself [4:43 PM]

Seokjin: does this mean you found a donor? [4:44 PM]

Hoseok: yep [4:44 PM]

Seokjin: WOOHOO *sent with confetti* [4:45 PM]

Seokjin: this calls for a celebration. Drinks on me tonight [4:46 PM]

Hoseok: idk, Seokjin. Your kind of celebration usually ends with the cops being called [4:46 PM]

Seokjin: that happened ONE time [4:47 PM]

Seokjin: and who’s this mysterious donor that saved you? [4:47 PM]

Hoseok: one time is one time too many. And the donor is Infinity Motors [4:48 PM]

Seokjin: if I could whistle via text, I would [4:48 PM]

Seokjin: your mysterious savior is Liam Jessen [4:49 PM]

Seokjin: that guy is crazy hot [4:49 PM]

Hoseok: he seems like he’s a competent CEO, if that’s what you’re saying [4:50 PM]

Seokjin: that’s not what I’m saying at all. In fact, the two are rarely correlated [4:51 PM]

Reaching the end of the messages, you decide this is a good time for you to interrupt.

Y/N: first off, Seokjin’s trust fund was never on the table. Second, Seokjin you’re not allowed to sleep with our donors [4:52 PM]

Seokjin: party pooper [4:52 PM]

Seokjin: are you in for drinks tonight? [4:53 PM]

Glancing at the clock, you debate whether it’s a good idea before deciding what the hell. You could use a night out without thinking of Liam or Jungkook or any of the other supposedly non-complicated men in your life.

Y/N: yeah, sure – I’m in! let’s go out [4:55 PM]

Seokjin: yes, THAT is the energy I wanted. Hoseok, what about you? [4:56 PM]

Hoseok: why not, I have nothing better to do [4:58 PM]

Seokjin: that’s the opposite of the energy I want, but I’ll take it [4:59 PM]

Seokjin: let’s go to Topaz! Finish up work and meet there at 7? [5:00 PM]

Topaz is a bar super-close to Seokjin’s work. Great ambience, relaxed atmosphere during the week and a party hub on the weekend. There’s a gigantic balcony with a dance floor you’re sure Seokjin will frequent after one or two drinks. It’s a go-to staple for drinks after work.

Y/N: sounds like a plan [5:02 PM]

Closing the chat, you return to your emails. There’s work to do before leaving, and the looming night out is distraction enough.

Time passes quickly though, and by the time seven rolls around, you’ve crossed every task off your to-do list. Standing, you stretch both arms overhead and are startled to see the sun has completely set.

Locking your laptop in a drawer, you walk around your desk to stop before the mirror. Making a face, you remove your blazer. Better. Now, you’re wearing only a sheer top and high-waisted pants. Acceptable for a night out at the bar.

Leaving the office, you cross to Hoseok’s desk and perch on the edge.

“Hoseok.”

Ignoring you, he continues typing his email.

Glancing at your wrist, you loudly exhale. “Hoseok,” you repeat. “We’re already late.”

“I know,” he says, brow furrowed at the screen. “But someone has to finish this before we leave for the weekend.”

“Yes, but I’m your boss. And as your boss, I’m saying you should get out of the office and live more.”

“As my boss,” Hoseok mutters, “we probably shouldn’t be going out drinking together.”

Waving this aside, you dig around in your purse for your lipstick. Locating it, you start to reapply using your phone as a camera.

“And you definitely shouldn’t pry into my sex life,” you say, “but here we are.”

Hoseok snorts, smile flashing as he presses send on his email. Glancing upward, he sees you and his eyes slightly widen.

“Damn, no sleeves, Y/N?” Hoseok says, standing from his chair. “I thought we were going out to celebrate, not get you laid.”

“Why can’t one follow the other?”

“Fair enough,” he laughs.

Following your lead, Hoseok removes his suit jacket to drape over the chair. Glancing at his reflection – the sun has long set – he frowns at the window and undoes a button on his shirt.

“Olya’s coming,” he says. Lifting a hand, Hoseok styles a few strands of hair. “I messaged her earlier asking if she wanted to join us for drinks.”

“Oh, really?” you drawl.

Catching your expression, Hoseok frowns. “It’s not like that, Y/N.”

“Like what?”

Rolling his eyes, Hoseok turns to grab his wallet. “You know that we work together.”

“I do, yes.”

“And I would never date a co-worker.”

“Mhm.” You nod. “And normally I’d agree with that approach, except Olya doesn’t report to you. She reports to me.”

Hoseok gives you a pointed glance. “You mean my best friend?”

“Hang on, Seokjin’s not your best friend?”

With a sigh of exasperation, Hoseok moves past you towards the door.

“Wait – I’m sorry,” you laugh, grabbing his elbow to hop down from his desk. “I just want you to be happy, you know that.”

“I know,” Hoseok grumbles, stepping into the hall. “Alright, let’s grab Olya and go catch an Uber.”

You agree, bounding ahead to Olya’s office.

Olya joined the company three years ago as one of the top event specialists in the area. Which is saying a lot, based on how many people in your city love to throw parties. She’s blunt, intimidating, and hilarious as hell. Olya is the type of person you’d be friends with if you weren’t constantly second-guessing the motives of everyone around you. The words of your therapist, not you.

Reaching her office, you find Olya finishing up a fresh coat of mascara. Hoseok comes to a standstill when he sees her, so you give him a small push.

It can’t be coincidental that Hoseok’s last relationship ended around the same time Olya joined the company, but he refuses to discuss it. For Hoseok, rules are more black and white than they are for you. Usually.

The ride downtown passes quickly, helped by the fact that it’s after rush hour. You arrive at Topaz during the transition from restaurant to dance club, the lights on its back patio already flashing.

Grinning, you push open the door and immediately spot Seokjin. He’s seated at a table near the back, sipping a watermelon margarita as he waves you over.

Hoseok sits across the table from Seokjin, and Olya sinks into the empty seat between them. You can’t help but notice her thigh resting closer to Hoseok’s than Seokjin’s. Hiding a grin, you slide into the empty seat and turn to face Seokjin.

Scanning him once, you feel your lips twitch. “Did all your buttons break?”

Seokjin’s shirt has been unbuttoned to nearly his navel, exposing large swarths of his firmly toned chest. Ignoring your comment, Seokjin takes a long sip of his drink.

“I’m just showing people the goods,” he explains, gaze roaming the bar. “I’m not the kind of guy who plays hard to get.”

“I’m sure.”

His eyes gleam as he turns. “Why, Y/N – is that what you like? Is the kind of thing you and Jungk –”

Cutting him off, you toss a pointed look at Olya.

She seems oblivious to the slip, sipping her drink while she flirts with Hoseok. It doesn’t seem as though Olya is listening, but you never know. Mentioning Jungkook during happy hour would be the opposite of covert.

Seokjin clears his throat. “Is that, uh, the kind of thing you do with your hookups, Y/N?”

He mouths, sorry, and you stifle a laugh. Seokjin soon disappears to get a round for the table – beer for Hoseok, vodka tonic for Olya and a watermelon margarita for you. Clinking glasses when he returns, you down the first half to Seokjin’s raucous cheering.

The next two rounds are spent at the table. Olya recently read one of your favorite series, and you spend the better part of an hour gossiping about its characters (“Okay, but when Kaz finds Inej and brings her to the boat?” “And Nina and Matthias’ MEETING!”) until Hoseok interjects with a panicked, “I haven’t read the second book yet!”

Feeling extra warm and giddy, you laugh and switch topics. Tequila muddling your thoughts, you turn at some point and spot the dance floor on the balcony. It doesn’t take much convincing for Olya to follow you out, drink in hand. Pivoting to face her, your hips move in time to the music.

Seokjin and Hoseok follow suit, the former needing little coercion. Seokjin is already on his fifth drink, performing TikTok dances for the public while Hoseok films. Olya cracks up, spilling some of her vodka on the tile which you swerve to avoid.

Over the railing of the balcony, the ocean is visible. A thin strip of moonlight cuts from horizon to shore, a salty-sweet breeze drifting over the dance floor. Tipping your head back, you twirl around in time to the music. Seokjin is your dance partner at one point, leaving soon after to return with fresh drinks.

Eventually though, Seokjin spots someone hot and beelines in this direction. Shaking your head, you turn and find Olya and Hoseok standing a few steps away. They’re deep in conversation, Olya gazing over the ocean and Hoseok gazing at her.

A slight twinge goes through you. Not because you wish you were Olya, but because you envy her position. You wish you had someone who looked at you, and only you.

Exhaling, you return to the dance floor but make it only one step before your phone buzzes. Reaching into your pocket, you pull out your phone.

Jason

A small part of you deflates, as though you expected another name. Ignoring this, you open your brother’s text and walk off the dance floor. Jason is saying he’ll be out of the country for the next couple of weeks, and you acknowledge this by responding, safe flight.

Closing out of the thread, you swipe over to Instagram. Without quite knowing why, you lean a shoulder to the wall as you aimlessly scroll. After a few minutes, you change tactics and click through some stories. A friend from college and her puppy. Sending a heart, you move on. A brand you like is having a sale, your cousin wants opinions on her new dresses and –

Pausing, your fingers return to the story you skipped.

Jungkook followed you a few weeks back, and you begrudgingly returned the favor the day following. Since your initial browse, you haven’t returned to his page. Jungkook doesn’t use Instagram often and when he does, it’s only to fulfill his rich playboy image.

He’s recently posted to his story though, and this time isn’t a thirst shot from the gym. Jungkook is at a fundraiser, slouched in a seat which likely cost him a grand. Cost his family a grand, you correct yourself.

Jungkook’s face is in frame for only a second, looking stupid-attractive before he flips the camera around. A middle-aged woman sits at the next table, and in the bag at her side is seated a dog. Stifling a laugh, you clasp a hand over your mouth. You can’t imagine how much this woman paid to bring her dog to the fundraiser.

It’s hard for you to hear over the music, but you think Jungkook snickers before flicking a small piece of chicken. The dog lunges to grab it, nearly knocking over the purse and Jungkook quickly lowers his phone.

The story ends there and, fighting a grin, you send him a message.

Y/N: $10 if you throw something bigger [9:02 PM]

Almost immediately, Jungkook starts to type back.

Jungkook: how much bigger [9:03 PM]

Y/N: does the terrible salad which came with your meal have cherry tomatoes? [10:03 PM]

Jungkook: lol yes, it does [9:04 PM]

Jungkook: alright, check my story [9:07 PM]

Grinning, you swipe right to return to your home screen. Jungkook’s new story appears, and you click on his name. Another shot of his face, followed by him cocking a brow before the phone flips around. Focusing on the dog, you watch Jungkook throw the tomato –

And miss.

You can’t help but laugh as the cherry tomato rolls, ending beneath the next table. Sitting back quickly, Jungkook mutters, “Fuck,” and you hear high-pitched laughter before the video is cut off.

Returning to your DM’s, you respond.

Y/N: you owe me $10 [9:08 PM]

Jungkook: 😈 I’ll make it up to you [9:09 PM]

Y/N: can’t wait 😇 [9:10 PM]

There’s no immediate reply and, after a moment, you realize you’re being rude and slip your phone in your pocket.

Glancing up, you catch the eye of a tall, dark-haired stranger across the bar. His gaze lingers on yours, dropping to your empty drink before returning to your face. Lifting a brow, he smiles, and you return the gesture.

Making an impulse decision, you wind your way through the bar until you reach his side. “Are you asking me if I need another drink, or just curious where the glass is from?”

The guy laughs, displaying twin dimples. Cute – very cute. Ducking his head, he flicks wavy hair from his eyes in a self-conscious manner.

“The former,” he says, looking up. “I was actually hoping to buy you another.”

Cute and smooth.

“I accept.”

Grinning, he gestures for you to lead the way. With great care, you maneuver yourself around multiple spilled drink and many dancing bodies. Your favorite bar is at the front; once you arrive, you lean your elbows to its counter.

“So.” Placing one hand on the counter, the guy glances at you. “I’m Ethan.”

“Hi, Ethan.”

He waits for a second, then grins. “Don’t I get to know your name, mysterious stranger?”

“Hm…” You smile. “I kind of like mysterious stranger. Has a nice ring to it.”

“True. Gin and tonic,” Ethan says when the bartender appears. Glancing your way, he raises a brow. “And one of whatever she’s having.”

“A watermelon margarita,” you answer. Once the bartender turns, you smile at Ethan. “And my name is Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeats. “A beautiful name.”

“A beautiful line.”

He laughs, eyes glinting as he leans further in. This close, you can smell his cologne – Tom Ford, you think, and the remnants of his gin drink.

“So,” Ethan says.

“You said that already.”

He blinks, somewhat thrown and you sigh. So, Ethan is one of those guys. The type of guy who goes to a bar, buys drinks for a girl, and has a specific script for how the night should go. God forbid one of the players decides to speak off-book.

Suppressing a wince, you accept the margarita pushed across the counter. It’s hard to stifle your mother’s words in your mind, warning you against being too sharp. Too demanding. Men don’t like women who threaten their ego.

Any other night, you’d simply walk away. Were this a real date, you already would’ve shown Ethan the door, but this isn’t a real date. You’re here for one reason and one reason only: you’re drunk, kind of lonely and looking for intimacy. Ethan fits the bill.

Forcing a smile, you turn to face him head-on. “Want to dance?” you say, jerking your chin towards the floor.

He nods, grabbing his drink and letting you lead the way. Finding an empty spot by the DJ, you turn around and slide your hand up his chest. Ethan smiles, pulling you closer until your hips brush against his.

The song is upbeat but sultry, and you hold your drink in one hand while you grind against him. Ethan is a good dancer, his hips moving to the beat but after two or three songs, you find your mind wandering.

You can’t help but imagine another set of hands on your waist, another body on yours, another’s lips on your throat. Breath hitching, your eyes flutter shut – and you realize you’re thinking of Jungkook.

Teeth gritted, you force your eyes open and turn quickly around. Pressing your back against Ethan, you down your drink quickly and deposit the glass on a counter. Leaning against his shoulder, you move one of his hands to cover yours on your waist. His body molds to yours from behind, feeling enticing and firm, and yet – your mind wanders.

Although he’s not a bad dancer, all his moves feel the same. Ethan has squeezed your ass several times, and you’re just not feeling it. When he attempts an open-mouthed lick up your neck, you decide to call it quits.

“O-kay,” you say, taking a step forward. Nearly falling, Ethan catches himself just in time. “I’m going to get another drink.”

His brow wrinkles as he straightens, gaze hazy with liquor. “Do you want me to come?”

“Nope, no,” you say, already on the move. “I’ll come find you after.”

Whirling away, you push through the crowd. You won’t find Ethan later, but he doesn’t need to know that. Indeed, when you reach the bar and turn back around, you already find Ethan scoping out a petite blonde in shorts.

Stifling an eye roll, you return to the bartender and order another drink. Seokjin appears at this point, having struck out with his dance partner and in the mood to do shots.

“No,” you groan, accepting the tequila he orders. “Seokjin. Jin. Jinnie. I can’t.”

He snort-laughs, pushing over a lime and salt. “Jinnie. You only call me that when you’re druuunk, Y/N. Are you drunk?”

“No!”

With this, you slam two tequila shots in quick succession and feel your eyes water. Fuck. Maybe that was a bad idea. Oh, well – something for future you to deal with.

“Tonight is a night of celebration, Y/N!” Whooping, Seokjin throws both arms around your waist and lifts you from the floor. “You got the money! Closed the deal! You’re gonna be working with hot Liam!”

You giggle, slapping his shoulder until Seokjin sets you back down.

“Hey,” you say. “We haven’t gotten the money yet, Jinnie. There’s still a whole effing contract that needs to be assigned. I mean, signed.”

“He’ll sign it.” Signaling for the bartender, Seokjin pulls out a black card. “Another two watermelon margaritas. On me.”

You cheer, throwing up your hands as the rooms spins a little. Well, spins a lot but you accept the drink anyways as you move towards the dance floor. Seokjin joins you this time, catching your elbow as you slip on a drink. Damn, there seem to be a lot of spilled drinks around – more than earlier, anyways.

Time blurs, assisted by alcohol. You and Seokjin separate at some point, and you end up in the bathroom, consoling a woman who was recently dumped. Advice ranges from profound (“Well, women are raised to see emotional support as intimacy, and men are raised to see sexual interest as intimacy, so we are where we are”) to the not-so-profound (“Listen, all you need is Pride and Prejudice and a good vibrator”).

By the time you leave the bathroom, the dance floor has partially cleared. Enough for you to realize Hoseok and Olya are still at the railing, looking relatively cozy. Not wanting to interrupt, you turn and spot Seokjin across the bar making out with two people.

Wait – no. That’s only one person.

You might be drunk. Returning to your table, you grab your purse from its hiding spot and pull your phone from your pants. Focusing on getting home, you’re momentarily distracted by the blinking messages.

Jungkook responded to you on Instagram.

He responded hours ago you realize with a wince. Wasn’t Jungkook at some function? You didn’t expect him to keep messaging and yet, he responded several times.

Jungkook: tonight [10:20 PM]

Jungkook: you free? [10:20 PM]

Jungkook: I have to be at this fundraiser a while longer, but I’ll be home around midnight [10:25 PM]

Jungkook: promise you won’t be thinking about how late it is when my face is buried between your perfect thighs [10:29 PM]

Immediately, your entire body clenches and you exhale through your teeth.

There are no other messages but now, your fingers hover over the screen to respond. Glancing around, you find Seokjin still busy in the corner with his make-out partner. Not wanting to disturb, you turn away from the bar.

Y/N: on my way [12:16 AM]

Tossing your phone in your purse, you stride for the door. Well, semi-stride. Your heels are tall and there are puddles of spilled drink everywhere. That must be it; it’s the only explanation for how often you nearly fall.

Outside, you take a deep breath of sea-salted air. Checking the time on your phone and seeing 12:20 AM, you realize Jungkook should be close to being home.

Opening the Lyft app, you order a ride and type in Jungkook’s address (after several verifications). Switching to Instagram, you confirm you did, in fact tell Jungkook you were coming and shut the app. The air is chillier than before, but you’re feeling warm with alcohol wrapped around you.

Time blurs once your Lyft arrives and you spend most of the ride chatting with your driver about the best carnitas places. Before you know it, you’ve at Jungkook’s building and are hopping from the sedan.

His lobby is as glossy and put-together as you remember. You marvel for a moment at the marble façade before coming to your senses and waving hello at the doorman. Recognizing your face – this is your third time here, after all – he smiles and presses a button for entrance.

“You can head up,” he says, nodding to the elevators. “I’ll call Mr. Jeon to let him know you’re on your way.”

“Thank you!” you say, slipping inside the doors.

The ride to Jungkook’s apartment is short, and you check your appearance in the floor to ceiling mirrors. Smoothing down your top, you take a step closer and inspect your make-up. Still relatively fresh, considering the night you’ve had. After reapplying lipstick, you pull out your phone and scan Instagram again.

No response from Jungkook. Not even a read receipt.

You frown, shifting a little but it’s too late to back out. Before you can reconsider, or even press a lower floor, the elevator slows. You have time to look up as it opens, and then you’re inside Jungkook’s apartment.

Brick wall, spiral staircase, floor-to-ceiling windows. The kitchen is partially visible and inside it is Jungkook. Some of your tension drains at the sight.

He’s expecting you. Clearly, he is because there’s an open bottle of wine on the counter, and two glasses beside it.

Exhaling slightly, you glance up and meet Jungkook’s gaze.

He looks… shocked. There’s no better word. Eyes wide, he stares at you in horror while lowering his phone from his ear. Fighting through the haze of tequila, you realize that must have been Jungkook’s doorman calling.

“I – hi,” you say, stepping into his hall. “Sorry, I just realized I should’ve called. I mean, I responded to your DM, but I – oh.”

Oh is the sound made when your entire world tilts, sliding you off it.

Gaze moving past him, you scan Jungkook’s place and realize he’s not alone. There are two wine glasses on the counter because Jungkook isn’t alone.

His date remains seated on his couch in the living room, looking confused. His ridiculously gorgeous date with dark, supple hair, rosebud lips and the tall, slender frame your mother wishes you had. How many times have you heard her bemoan your appearance? Only you could make a mess of body proportions.

You’ve completely fucked this up.

“Ah.” Limbs feeling wobbly, you take a step backwards – into the elevator. “I’m, well, shit – I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize. I’ll leave,” you blurt out, swiftly jabbing the Lobby button. “Ignore me – ignore this, I–”

In a stroke of luck, the doors respond quickly, cutting you off as Jungkook springs into motion.

Inhaling sharply, you bury your face in both hands.

Oh my god. The fucking humiliation. Showing up at Jungkook’s apartment, uninvited – well, kind of invited – and finding another woman there.

Except.

Slowly, you look up and lower your hands. You might be drunk, but you were invited; you remember that much. Chest tightening, you reach into your purse for your phone. Opening Instagram, you see now Jungkook has read your messages. Great.

Glowering, you drop your phone in your bag and glance at yourself in the mirrors. The floors flick by quickly, and you evaluate your appearance with each ticking number.

His date was pretty. No – she was stunning, and you suppose you can’t fault Jungkook for trying to sleep with her. You were the one who made the rules in the first place. You were the one who suggested you sleep with other people.

Even as you think this, you know it’s not the reason you’re mad. 

The word mad is too simple for the emotions you’re feeling. Embarrassed, at having assumed you were his first choice. Naïve, for thinking he’d go home alone. Uncertain, because now you don’t know where you stand with him. Jungkook is without a doubt the best guy in your roster. And now, you have no idea what you are to him.

The thought makes your stomach churn and, when the doors open, you stand there for a moment before coming to your senses.

Entering the lobby, you ignore the surprise of the doorman. You aren’t sure how Jungkook responded when his doorman called to announce your arrival. Whatever transpired, he seems confused by your return.

Reaching the entrance, you pull out your phone to order another ride. The screen zooms in and out, a consequence of the many margaritas you had at the bar. Teeth gritted, you wait until the screen clears before you type in your address. You’re about to press accept when the elevator dings.

In the reflection of the door, you see Jungkook rush out. He pauses, scanning the lobby and – upon seeing you – resumes motion.

“Y/N!” Jungkook calls. “Wait!”

His hair flops, jogging towards you and your heart constricts at the sight. Jungkook is dressed in a tuxedo, albeit with the waistcoat unbuttoned and sans a bowtie. 

Skidding to a stop, he grabs the phone from your hand. “Don’t call a cab,” Jungkook pleads.

Glaring daggers, you reach for your phone. “Furs – first of all, this isn’t the 1950’s. No one ‘calls a cab’ anymore. Second” – lunging, you miss wildly – “you have a girl in your apartment. I’m not trying to join in or watch if that’s what you’re hoping.”

Jungkook’s lips twitch, although all cockiness fades when he sees your expression.

“That’s not what I’m thinking.”

Shaking your head, you hold out a hand. “My phone, please.”

After a moment of hesitation, Jungkook returns your phone to your palm.

“Please stay,” he says, his expression sincere. “I already asked my driver to take Giselle home. She should be gone by now.”

“Giselle,” you scoff. “Wow, sure. My mom would love that name.”

Jungkook stares. “Uh, okay. Do you want to come back up?”

You exhale, stepping backwards – only for your ankle to wobble, necessitating you grab the door’s handle. Jungkook’s brow creases, moving to help but you wave him aside.

“Why would I go back upstairs with you? You invited me to come over and then, what – you forgot?”

“No,” Jungkook insists. “I invited you over, and you didn’t respond for two hours! When my date asked if we could get a drink, I –”

“You were on a date?”

His blinks. “It was a charity thing. My dad paid for two plates. Y/N… are you drunk?”

“I had fun – a few drinks,” you say, brushing his concern aside. “But if Giselle was your date, why were you texting me?”

“You messaged me first, so I responded. And yeah, I would’ve preferred to see you, but you didn’t respond.” Deeply, Jungkook exhales and runs a hand through his hair. “When Giselle asked to see my apartment, I –”

“See your apartment.” You snort. “Nice.”

Limply, his hand falls to his side. “Are you seriously upset I was planning to sleep with someone else? Because these are your rules, Y/N.”

“Rules you agreed to,” you counter. “Rules I haven’t heard you offer to change.”

Disbelief flashes across his expression, though he hides it quickly.

“Yeah.” Jungkook pauses. “I guess you’re right.”

“And I’m not upset about that,” you continue. “I don’t care if you sleep with someone else, but I do care that you thought you could squeeze us in back-to-back! I –”

Loudly, your ringtone cuts through the lobby.

An otherwise silent lobby. Where you’ve been fighting with Jungkook about his sexual habits. Jungkook’s doorman is doing an admirable job of pretending not to hear, but if you were him, you’d be jotting down notes. Remembering your phone, you squint at the screen and can barely make out the name.

Hoseok.

Gesturing to Jungkook for a minute, you press answer.

“Hello?” you say, lifting your phone to your ear.

“Y/N?” It’s noisy in the background, sounding like Hoseok is still at the bar. “Thank fuck. What happened? Where are you? Are you still at Topaz?”

“I – uh, no,” you say, pivoting away. Your heel catches and you stumble, feeling Jungkook’s hand on your waist. “I left, actually.”

“You left?”

You wince again, fully aware Jungkook can hear. “Um, yes,” you say, lowering your voice. “Like twenty minutes ago?”

“Who did you leave with?” Hoseok demands, practically shouting. “That guy you were grinding with on the dance floor?”

In the window, you can see Jungkook stiffen and realize how that sounds. You’re a hypocrite. Had circumstances been different, you might have slept with Ethan and here you are, berating Jungkook for trying to sleep with Giselle.

You’re a ridiculous, drunk hypocrite and he’s going to toss you out on your ass.

“No,” you say through gritted teeth. “I, um, left to…”

For the second time tonight, Jungkook plucks the phone from your hand.

“She’s with me, Hoseok,” he says into the receiver. “Yeah, this is Jungkook.”

On the other end of the phone, you hear Hoseok’s noise of surprise. Scowling, you hop and try to grab your phone. Jungkook ignores this, playing keep-away above your head.

“Okay.” Hoseok recovers. “Look, I don’t really know you, and everything I have heard isn’t that great, but –”

“She’s safe here, I promise.”

Hoseok pauses, and in his silence, you can hear his calculations. You’ve slept with Jungkook multiple times before. At no point have you ever mentioned feeling uncomfortable or unsafe. Jungkook even walked you home that one time from the club.

Each of these data points seems to fall into place, and you hear Hoseok exhale.

“Fine,” he says, still speaking loudly over the noise at the bar. “Y/N was pounding margaritas and apparently took some tequila shots with Seokjin, so – I’LL DEAL WITH YOU LATER!” Hoseok yells, presumably at Seokjin. “Anyways, I’ll be tracking Y/N’s phone, so she better make it home in one piece tomorrow.”

Jungkook’s lips twitch. “She will. I swear.”

“Cool. Tell Y/N to drink water. Seokjin, I’m coming, you ridiculous land mass–”

Hoseok hangs up, leaving only a dial tone.

Clicking end, Jungkook returns your phone to your hand – which you take, scowling darkly.

“Thanks,” you say. “I’m just going to call myself a Lyft, and –”

“Stay.” Jungkook’s voice softens. “Please.”

After a moment, you glance up and can’t seem to look away.

The room is spinning in more ways than one. Maybe that’s why you slowly lower your phone. Or maybe it’s because now that Hoseok mentioned it, you find yourself fairly thirsty. You hope it’s not because of Jungkook’s sincerity that you find yourself reconsidering.

“Fine,” you mutter. “But just for one glass of water.”

Striding past him, you head for the elevator. Jungkook catches up quickly, waving at the doorman to let you both up. You avoid eye contact as you pass, embarrassed by your earlier display in the lobby.

Once the doors have shut and you’re alone, you take a pointed step sideways and lean one shoulder to the wall.

Saying nothing, Jungkook relaxes against the mirror and crosses his arms. From the corner of your eye, you watch him survey you.

“I’m sorry,” you say at last, filling the silence. “I was… surprised when I got here and found someone else, and I – well, yeah. We said we’d keep this casual.”

Still, Jungkook stays silent, his expression inscrutable.

“Like you said,” you continue, babbling like an idiot. “We agreed to sleep with other people.”

This appears to be the last straw.

Pushing himself off the wall, Jungkook walks forward and comes to a stop right before you. After a beat, you look up and feel your mind go blank. He looks good. More than good and without thinking, you close your eyes and inhale.

Dimly, you wonder what cologne he wears because he smells so much better than Ethan did at the bar. On instinct, you lean in to get a better whiff. Your nose, then your lips brush his clavicle and in response, Jungkook stiffens.

“Sorry,” you blurt, eyes flying open when you realize what you’ve done. “You just… smell good, that’s all. Really good. Better than – well. Never mind.”

A lone muscle ticks in his jaw.

Realizing how close you two are, you try to move backwards – and Jungkook reaches out, wrapping a hand around your wrist.

“Better than the guy you were dancing with?” he asks lowly.

Casually, Jungkook steps between your thighs and presses you against the mirror. The sudden coldness makes you suck in a breath, nipples tightening beneath your sheer blouse. Jungkook’s body is warm, solid as his thumb skims the inside of your wrist.

“Maybe,” you whisper.

His smile is lazy. “Was he not enough for you, princess? Did you remember halfway I’m the only one who can make you come as hard as I can?”

Slowly, you swallow, and you watch Jungkook’s gaze lower.

“He was fine,” you manage to say.

“Fine?”

“More than fine.”

“What happened to fine?”

Your brow furrows. “I wouldn’t get cocky,” you huff. “I can’t help but notice you got rid of what’s-her-face the second I came over.”

Jungkook’s lips twitch. “I’m not ashamed of it,” he murmurs. “You’re the sweetest fuck I’ve ever had, and you deserve to know that. Not tonight, though,” he adds, almost an afterthought. “Not when you’re drunk and I’m sober.”

The elevator doors open and, as soon as he hears them, Jungkook steps away. You sag against the mirror, feeling strangely empty as he walks into the apartment.

Kicking off his shoes, Jungkook shrugs from his tuxedo jacket to drape over an armchair. Coming to a stop in his kitchen, he opens the door to the fridge.

“What do you want?” Jungkook calls. “I stocked up on food since the last time you came, so now I have ramen.”

Coming to your senses, you step out of the elevator before the doors close. Slipping from your heels, you leave these by his loafers and drop your purse on the floor.

In the sharp light of Jungkook’s apartment, you realize he’s right – you’re drunk. Everything seems to sway as you take a seat at his counter. Willing the world to stop moving, you take a deep breath.

Glancing over his shoulder, Jungkook’s eyes widen at your face. “You okay, Y/N?” he asks, shutting the door. “Do you need to puke?”

“No,” you say, hanging your head.

“You sure?”

Jungkook makes soft retching noises, and you feel your lips twitch.

“No,” you exhale. “But if you keep doing that, I’m going to puke in your Prada loafers.”

He laughs, turning to grab a glass from a cabinet. Setting this down on the counter, Jungkook fills it with water from a container.

“Drink,” he urges, sliding this towards you. “I’ll go get you Motrin.”

You accept the glass, mostly because the thought of throwing up in Jungkook’s apartment is beyond humiliating. Worse than coming over to hook up and finding him with someone else. By the time you finish the glass, Jungkook has returned and you’re feeling slightly better.

He’s changed, exchanging his tux for a t-shirt and sweatpants. Fear of God, you note – you wouldn’t be surprised if the simple beige t-shirt cost him four hundred dollars. Ridiculously expensive, not to mention soft. You’re immediately consumed by daydreams of burying your face in his chest.

Startled by the thought, you look up and find his gaze on you.

Jungkook lifts a brow. “So. Ramen?”

You nod, feeling dazed and he turns back around. Opening cupboards, Jungkook searches until he locates the right pot. Seated at the counter, you watch Jungkook bring the pot to the sink, turn on the faucet and wait for it to fill.

An inkling of discomfort stirs within you. “You don’t have to do that,” you say. “I know you told Hoseok I was here, but I can go home. I can Uber or something. Jimin is watching Dante all night, but I can leave. You know, sleep it off.”

Jungkook ignores this, turning off the faucet and carrying the pot to the stove. Ripping open ramen packets, he sprinkles these into the water.

“Y/N.” His biceps strain while he works. “I seriously don’t mind.”

“But you were about to get laid.”

“I can get laid anytime.”

“Sure, but you were about to get laid tonight.”

Jungkook gives you a wry look. “As nice as it is you’re concerned about my dick, why don’t you let me speak for it – okay?”

Begrudgingly, you sit back and nod. Shaking his head, Jungkook returns to his stove, but you can tell that he’s smiling. Satisfied by the temperature, he moves to the fridge and pulls out eggs, chopped scallions and cheese.

“Besides,” Jungkook adds, “the ego boost of you coming over tonight will last me for months.”

Groaning out loud, you slump to the counter.

Jungkook cracks up, and you lift your head to smile. The glass of water you drank seems to have worked its miracle, moving you from wasted to merely debauched. It’s a state in which your verbal capacity seems to know no limitations.

“You want me to really boost your ego?” you tease him, propping your chin on your fist. “Since you said I’m the best fuck you ever had?”

“Yeah,” he says, lips curling upward. “Boost my ego, I can take it.”

“Hm.” You sniff. “Well then, you should know you’re the same. Bar none. Actually – throw out the bar. You’re the bar. Fuck, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that first night. You were right, you know? No one else has even come close.”

Jungkook freezes at the stove, one hand on his pot. His pupils dilate so far, his eyes are nearly black, and the lines of his shoulders have gone suddenly rigid.

Finally, he moves, forcing an exhale from his lips.

“A lesser man” – Gruffly, Jungkook adds noodles – “would ignore his moral code, bend you over the counter and fuck you right now.”

You go utterly still.

You want that. You want Jungkook to be inside you so bad, your thighs are pressed together in an effort not to react. Also because you would fall if you stood – but mostly to keep yourself from climbing over the counter.

Glancing up, Jungkook catches your gaze, and you can tell he doesn’t care. He’s not going to give into you tonight. Not like this.

Jungkook is a good guy.

The thought takes you by surprise, hitting you with all the subtlety of a bolt of lightning. He’s trying so hard to maintain your boundaries and the moment you realize this, an inner wall crumbles.

You’ve had it up for so long you barely noticed its presence. The result of many failed relationships, some worse than others. Your walls keep you safe, gatekeeping access to your most tender parts. It isn’t just Jungkook and his connection to your parents that scares you – although that’s certainly part of it. Honestly, it’s been a long time since you let anyone in, regardless of who they were.

You realize all this in a moment, and then Jungkook looks down.

“But I won’t,” he declares, thrusting his spoon in the air. “Because I’m a strong man who can’t be brought down by one woman’s vagina.”

“You sure?”

“No.” He gives you a pointed look. “So, stop tempting me.”

Unable to help it, you grin, and he stares at you a moment – until you push away from the counter and nearly fall off the stool.

“Shit,” Jungkook blurts, darting forward.

“I’m fine!” you say, catching yourself. “Promise, I’m fine.”

Jungkook halts his trajectory but looks at you warily while returning to the stove. “I’m cooking as fast as I can,” he insists. “I’m trying to get food in your stomach, so I need you to help me out and not die before then.”

“I’ll try!”

Despite his words, Jungkook’s lips twitch as he returns to the stove. You’d offer to help – soft boil the eggs, prepare the bowls – but you’re worried if you stand, your feet might not hold. Safter to stay put and avoid the embarrassment of having Jungkook save you twice.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to need your help, anyways. For someone with a formerly bare fridge, he’s doing surprisingly well. Once the noodles are finished, he spoons some into each bowl, topping both with generous helpings of cheese and green onions.

Sliding one across the counter, he hands over chopsticks and a spoon – and then promptly slaps your wrist when you try to eat.

“Hey!” you blurt, outraged.

“It’s too hot,” Jungkook says, coming around the corner. “You’ll burn your tongue, and then what?”

“I’ll have a burnt tongue.”

“Such a smart-ass,” he grumbles, taking the seat beside yours.

After a few minutes, Jungkook proclaims the bowls ready and you both dig in. For a while the kitchen is full of the soft sounds of slurping. Suddenly ravenous, you inhale half the bowl in the time it takes Jungkook to eat only a quarter. Noticing, he glances over and laughs at the disparity.

You shrug, unconcerned and drain your bowl before he can. By the time Jungkook finishes, you’re starting to droop over his nice marble counter. It seems with water and food, the next step for your weary body is sleep and you care little about having an appropriate surface.

Drowsily, you gesture from the counter. “Jungkook” – you yawn – “if I don’t find a bed soon, I’m going to be passed out on your floor within the next fifteen minutes.”

He sets his spoon in the bowl. “I see.”

“Right. So, I need to leave now. Or you won’t be able to move me until morning. Unless you carry me. Which might be bad for your back.”

“Or,” Jungkook counters. “We could go with the obvious solution.”

“Which is?”

“You could stay the night.”

Frozen, your feet swing from his bar stool. “I… what?”

“You could stay here tonight.” Grabbing both bowls, Jungkook returns to the kitchen to place these in the dishwasher. “I have a bunch of extra bedrooms, so you don’t have to stay in mine if you don’t want to. As long as you don’t mind wearing my clothes.”

You continue to stare, sorting through the responses in your head.

“Or you can wear your own clothes, I guess.” Jungkook hesitates. “Or sleep naked. I don’t really know how you – I mean, we haven’t…”

“Your clothes would be nice,” you finish for him.

Jungkook pauses, then nods as he turns away.

“No problem,” he calls, heading down the hall. “Why don’t you come grab a t-shirt?”

Tentatively, you lower a foot to the floorboards. The wood feels even beneath your toes, and your head feels somewhat clearer, so you lower the second foot and let go of the counter.

Satisfied with your balance, you follow Jungkook down the hall and pause in his doorway. He’s bent over his dresser, rummaging around and offering a grade-A view of his posterior. Leaning your shoulder to the doorway, you feel content watching until he glances your way.

“Will this work?” Jungkook straightens with a t-shirt.

Your mouth dries a little. The shirt is large, dwarfing his sizeable hands as Jungkook crosses the room. Something squeezes your chest when he comes to a stop.

He’s too close.

He’s too close and too much and your heart feels like it’s burning.

Reaching for the t-shirt, you fail to make eye contact as your fingertips brush. Instead, you hold the material against your body and glance to where the hem nearly falls to your knees.

“What do you think,” you say, glancing up.

Jungkook stares.

Unspoken words fill the air between you, ones you’re too drunk – or not drunk enough – to say, and ones he refuses to articulate. Maybe because you’re the only one feeling like this. Or maybe because Jungkook is a nice guy, and he’s just being nice to you right now. Him being silent has nothing to do with how you look, or how much you like his biceps, or the tension between you.

Jungkook can’t seem to stop staring at his t-shirt on your body, though. When he swallows, the sound is audible.

“That works,” he rasps.

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, you nod and turn around. Striding towards the bathroom, you struggle to clear your mind. Although you meant to tease Jungkook, you find your own knees are trembling. You’re drunk, you remind yourself as you exit his room.

“Can I take a shower?” you call, placing his shirt on the counter.

Jungkook is quiet for so long, you wonder if he heard.

“Yes,” he calls at last, sounding strained. “Bath products are in the far cabinet. Take what you need. Do you… are you good to shower alone?”

The words sound like they pain him, and you hide a smile as you turn around.

“I’m okay,” you say. “Be right out.”

Closing the door, you hear a low groan from his side of the bedroom. Stepping away, you strip off your clothes. Despite what you just said, you’re still pretty drunk and it’d be just your luck to fall in the shower.

Opening the cabinet he mentioned, you pull out a clip and secure your hair. Finished, you turn on the shower and step into the spray. Cranking the temperature as high as it goes, you grab a cloth and lather your arms. Careful to keep your head dry, you rinse away the dank smell of the bar.

By the time you’re done, your head feels considerably lighter. Drying yourself off with a towel – holy shit, that’s soft – you slip on Jungkook’s t-shirt and stare at yourself in the mirror. It hangs down to your knees and would be decent if it weren’t for the way it clings to wet skin.

Searching Jungkook’s cabinets, you locate face cleanser and remove your makeup. Adding moisturizer, you pat your cheeks dry and open the door.

Seated on his bed, Jungkook looks up and goes visibly still. Slowly, his gaze travels your body, lingering in places which make your cheeks heat.

“Ah.” His throat works as he swallows. “You look… good.”

Gradually, his expression moves from lust to something more. Something new and vulnerable, which terrifies you enough that you turn away.

“So,” you say, bundling your clothes in your arms. “Are the other bedrooms… upstairs?”

“Yeah.” Recovering fast, Jungkook nods. “Follow me.”

He stands, leaving a dip in his mattress your eyes can’t help but stray to.

He probably would’ve let you stay if you asked, but now it’s too late. Suppressing the urge to backtrack, you follow him down the hall and into the main room. Realizing you’ve yet to see the second level, you feel your curiosity pique as you climb the stairs. These end in a long hall which stretches the entire length of the building.

Glancing over his shoulder, Jungkook explains as he walks. “That’s my game room,” he says, pointing out a room with black-out curtains. “Media room is next, then the gym, another guest room, my office… and this is my favorite,” he says, pushing open a door at the end of the hall.

Jungkook holds it open, allowing you to walk past and once inside, you falter.

His bedroom downstairs looks over the city, but this room faces the mountains to the east. Even at night you can see their stark shadows and you’re sure in the morning, the sunrise is gorgeous.

One wall has been papered in black and white, broken only by the gigantic bed pushed up against it. Gauzy curtains cover the windows, framed by several plants in glazed ceramic pots. A small chandelier dangles over the bed and slowly, you turn in a circle.

“It’s beautiful,” you say. Curious, you glance at Jungkook. “Whose room is this? It doesn’t really look like your… vibe.”

Jungkook’s cheeks redden. “No one’s, really. I helped the designer with it. And my room, of course, but I wanted this room to be different. Homier.”

Nodding, you turn and run a hand over the ottoman. Despite the obvious luxury – silk pillowcases, golden trim on the mirror – it feels more lived-in. Not as cold as the rest of Jungkook’s place. Placing your clothes on the dresser, you become distracted by the view.

Pulling back the curtain, you stare out at the mountains and wonder if this is all a dream.

“It’s really nice,” you murmur.

“I’m glad you like it.”

There’s relief in Jungkook’s voice, but you can’t focus on it for long. Glancing over your shoulder, you lift a brow.

“I’m sure everyone who stays here has told you that.”

Shrugging, he steps away from the door. “I wouldn’t know. You’re the first person to stay here.”

His words are startling, and something unravels inside you as he crosses the room. Coming to a stop right before you, Jungkook’s fingers twitch at his side. Your own heart is pounding, feeling lopsided and strange.

Jungkook hesitates, then lifts a hand to lightly skim your jaw. Unable to look at him, your eyes flutter shut.

You’ve never kissed.

The thought occurs to you suddenly, reminding you in no uncertain terms of your agreement. Well, you kind of kissed the first night in his car, but that was barely a brush. You haven’t kissed since then, an unspoken line and now, you can’t help but wonder what his lips would taste like. What a kiss would feel like with his arms wrapped around you.

Shakily, he exhales, and Jungkook’s breath ghosts your lips. Steeling yourself, you tilt your chin higher – and feel his soft lips brush your forehead.

A kiss you could have taken.

A kiss you were prepared for, but the tenderness in his gesture causes your eyes to water. Jungkook’s fingers linger on your jaw before he pulls back, hand dropping to his side. 

When you open your eyes, his expression seems almost startled.

“Goodnight,” Jungkook says.

You stare as he leaves, watching him with wide eyes while he shuts the door. The world beneath you has tilted, and you’re no longer certain how to find your way out.

Sunlight wakes you the next morning.

Gauzy curtains block some of the light but eventually it can’t be ignored, and you find your eyes opening. For a moment, you’re confused by your surroundings. Across the room is a dresser, a gilded mirror above it to reflect wallpaper over your head.

Yawning, you sit up and wince at the taste in your mouth. Despite this, your head feels remarkably clear given the amount of liquor you drank. Probably thanks to the water and Motrin Jungkook gave you last night.

Last night. Jungkook.

All at once, memories hit you. This is Jungkook’s apartment. Last night, you showed up drunk at his apartment, scared his guest away and crashed in his room. Stifling a groan, you lower your forehead to the four-hundred thread count organic sheets. You recognize them from Seokjin’s apartment.

Once your shame has subsided, you lift your head. The room is as beautiful as it was last night, and Jungkook’s words return about you being its first inhabitant. You suppose this makes sense. Jungkook rarely stays at his place, and you imagine when women do stay over, they sleep in his room.

Swinging your legs to the side, you stand from his bed. Padding into the attached bathroom, you blink at the sunken tub resting in the corner. You suppose you could have showered here last night, but in your drunken state, Jungkook’s room was closest.

For someone who doesn’t entertain often, Jungkook sure has a place built for it. Locating a treasure trove of facial products in a drawer, you wash your face and brush your teeth with a disposable toothbrush. Feeling infinitely fresher, you step from the bathroom and tug on the hem of Jungkook’s t-shirt in the mirror.

Wishing you had pants, or even a change of underwear, you exhale and realize you’ll need to borrow sweats to go home. Unless you change back into your own clothes, but those remain covered in the scent of the bar.

Cracking open the door in his t-shirt, you peer down the hall and wonder if Jungkook is up. Your phone has died – Hoseok is probably worried sick – so you’ll need to borrow a charger, as well.

Stepping out of your room, you close the door softly behind you. Most of the hall’s doorways are shut, but you glance into the open ones you pass. Jungkook’s office, another bedroom – dimly, you recall the tour from last night.

Nearing the staircase, you hear muffled music from a door near the end. There are other noises, as well – thwacks and grunts which sound like Jungkook.

Hesitantly, you place one hand on the door. After a moment of debate, you push it open a crack and immediately regret your decision.

Jungkook is boxing.

He’s shirtless, muscles gleaming and tattoos rippling with each punch he lands. A weighted dummy sits before him and, both feet planted, Jungkook goes through his practice routine. Right punch, left, right, right – duck – right, left, right-left.

You realize you’re staring when he glances up and spots you in the mirror.

“Y/N!” he calls.

Eyes wide, you try to back out but realize it’s too late – you’ve been seen.

Turning around, Jungkook’s chest heaves as his gloves fall to his sides. Music continues to play, a heavy beat blasting throughout the relatively small space. Making a one-second gesture, Jungkook jogs across the room and presses the button to stop.

“Hey,” Jungkook pants, still catching his breath as he turns around. “Sorry about that. Did I wake you?”

“I – no. Not at all.”

Glancing away from him, you look down the hall. You aren’t sure why eye contact is so difficult right now. This is Jungkook. He’s seen you naked. Fucked you into incoherency. There’s no reason to be shy and yet, for some reason you’re having difficulty stringing two words together.

You haven’t seen him like this. You’ve never stayed the night, so you’ve never seen him first thing in the morning. Jungkook’s face is slightly puffy, a partially formed pimple at the base of his hairline. He looks so raw, so real it takes your breath away.

Knowing this to be dangerous territory, you repeat to yourself every reason this couldn’t work. Jungkook works for a company you despise. Not just works for – he owns the company, more or less. His parents know your parents, and you know damn well dating someone from their world never ends well. Even if they seem different, men raised in households like this feel they’re entitled to everything, including people. You’ve lived the experience of that first-hand.

Despite this, a kernel of doubt plants itself in your mind.

“Do you… have a charger?” you ask at last, turning back.

Jungkook’s hands pause, unwrapping his gloves. He looks at you and there’s something to his expression which makes you wonder if he understands more than he lets on.

“Yeah.” Jungkook doesn’t falter. “I have a charger you can use. Do you… need anything else?”

There’s a slight challenge to his words, heating your insides and making your own words sound foreign as they leave your lips.

“No,” you hear yourself say. “Nothing more.”

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed :) I do not have a tag list, so please do not ask to be added or ask about updates. My writing progress can be found on my updates schedule, linked in both my header and FAQ!

[ Series Master List ]

© kpopfanfictrash, 2022. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[ronearoundblindly]

For Sweet Sunday, Steve just loving your laugh.

Ah, so simple, so sweet, but like...actually sugary 😉 WC ~570

Sweet Charity

It’s like an addiction; Steve will do almost anything to make you laugh. The Team is close to tossing him out of the airlock if he pulls out another atrocious dad-joke, but to Steve, it’s so worth it because you laugh. Every. Time.

He may have gone a bit far this time though.

Tony proposed a fundraiser, which in itself is not unusual, but the theme for this one would be carnival events with the Avengers. Tony had already written Steve in for the Kissing Booth—in pen, Stark pointed out, not pencil—because it was obvious how much money he could make…and because Steve is immune to disease…and because no one could claim sexual harassment. It’s Steve Rogers. He literally can’t even say someone’s name without triple-checking that’s what they want to be called.

No. Steve said no. He wanted to be at the Pie Toss. He wanted to be at the Pie Toss right across from the Dunk Tank which—incidentally—is where you’re stationed, and for the first three minutes, Steve basked in your thrilled and giddy laugh.

The water was so cold on your feet. Squeal. The jerk kid who taunted you missed his shot. Cackle. First dunk, and you come up whipping the water from your hair and joyously giggling.

Smack!

First pie to the face, too.

Steve licks whipped cream from his mouth and congratulates the little girl who did better than her dad. He scrapes the mess from over his eyes and realizes he can’t see very well through the sweet goo all over him. He can still hear though, so Steve’s having the time of his life. As long as your laugh rings out every minute or two, he’s got a permanent grin plastered on his face next to  the hardening, sticky mess. He couldn’t care less how many pies he takes to the face or how much of the melting cream drips down his clothes. It’s just a great day.

Scott tries to come give him a break, but Steve refuses. He’s not hungry. He’s not tired. He takes a few sips of the water bottle beside him, but other than that, he won’t leave the stool.

It’s dusk by the time there is genuinely too much whipped cream on him to see or breath properly, so Steve rubs what he can off with a towel handed to him.

“Only one more, Cap.”

He peels open his white eyelashes to see you, holding a pie a safe distance behind you, a wicked tuck in your cheek as you stifle a grin.

“What did the cherry say to the cherry pie?”

Steve beams. “Dunno. What?”

Your hand comes up to pick bits out of his hair. “You’ve got some crust on you.”

It’s Steve’s turn to laugh, but he shouldn’t have caved. His mouth open wide, you smoosh the pie right into his face. He sputters a bit after the remnant tin crumples to the ground, raising his towel to clean up again.

“Wait,” he hears you say just as you push his hand away. “I can help.”

He nearly croaks out a protest before your tongue—if he’s not mistaken by the feel of wet, firm, controlled muscle—precisely sweeps from corner to corner of his mouth.

“Been wanting to do that all day,” you giggle, and it’s 100% worth being tossed out an airlock or drowned in whipped cream for.

[Light Masterlist; Main Masterlist]

[k-evans-reads]

Playing With Fire

Chapter 8

Summary: After a change of heart nearly ten years into her career as a pediatric intensive care unit nurse, Ellie Maxwell has moved back home and returned to her old job at the local bakery, where the regulars are the firefighters from down the street. When sparks begin to fly between Ellie and the guarded, closed-off Chris, will anything come of it?

Pairing: Firefighter!Chris Evans X OFC Elizabeth “Ellie” Maxwell

Word Count: 10,178

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: 18+.

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A knock echoed on the door of the bakery, Ellie lifting her head and smiling widely when she saw the familiar face through the pane of glass in the door. Hurrying over, she unlocked the door, letting Chris in from the cold before closing it back behind him. She still had the broom in her hand when Chris swiftly pulled her against his frame and kissed her so deeply she was almost out of breath when he parted from her lips. 

She opened her eyes to see his own staring at her, Ellie raising her eyebrows as she told him, “Well hi to you too.”

“Sorry, it’s just been way too long since I’ve been able to do that,” Chris admitted with a shake of his head, and Ellie had to agree. They’d had a quick breakfast date the previous Sunday with plans to get together while Hazel was in school on Tuesday and Wednesday, but the snow storm ruined those plans as Chris spent every minute of Tuesday and Wednesday running around with Hazel at home. 

But while some things didn’t go to plan, the best part of her week was when Chris surprised her on Monday by bringing Hazel by the bakery unexpectedly. Ellie only expected to meet Hazel after several weeks - or even months - of them dating, and while Chris only introduced her as a “friend” to Hazel, it still meant the world to Ellie, and she knew it meant the same to Chris by seeing the look in his eyes the entire time. 

“I certainly didn’t mind,” she laughed, locking the door again before she turned and reached for her AirPods, putting them back in the case before she walked towards the broom and dustpan. “I’m almost done cleaning up and then we can go.” 

But Chris - who still had damp hair sticking to the nape of his neck from his shower - rushed over and told her, “Here, I’ll sweep.” 

She stepped aside, letting him sweep as she finished changing the last of the trash bags from the trash cans around the bakery. “How was your shift today?” She asked, turning and glancing over to him. He was dressed in a sweater and jeans with sneakers on, something she knew he didn’t keep at the firehouse. He tended to get off work on Saturdays before she did, which clearly had left him time to run home and change - and drop Dodger off - before he came here.

His back was to her as he shrugged, Ellie watching as the muscles beneath his sweater shifted with the movement. “A little rough… we had a fire in that old abandoned building over on the edge of town and that one was tough to get out but other than that, it’s been pretty uneventful,” he told her, then turned and shot her a wry smile as he made his way back over to her and admitted, “Pretty glad to be here with you now though.” 

“I am too, baby,” she whispered, leaning up to peck his cheek before she grabbed the dustpan, dumping the crumbs and trash into the open trash bag. Then, she tied the bag off, turning to double-check the bathroom was clean and ready for the Sunday crowds.

“So any thoughts on what you’d like to do tonight?” Chris called as he leaned his hip against the counter, his voice carrying down the short hallway into the open door of the kitchen where Ellie was putting on her coat so that she could take the trash to the dumpster. “I’m not picking up Hazel until tomorrow morning because Ashlee took her to New York today to go to an aquarium so they won’t be back until late. So I have time for whatever you want to do.” 

“I’m mostly just hungry,” she laughed and she could hear Chris’ own laughter and she opened the door, crossing the few short feet to the dumpster before she threw the trash in and came back inside. 

Chris’ tall slender frame appeared in the open doorway while Ellie was washing her hands for the last time, a small sideways grin on his face. “You know I can always eat,” he whispered, before he suddenly turned his head and narrowed his eyes, then they widened as he turned back and told her quickly, “Hey Ellie, your phone is ringing.” 

“Sorry, I’m just going to take this really quick,” she replied, brushing past him and reaching for her phone from where she left it on the counter. She smiled at the name that was showing, putting the phone up to her ear as she said, “Hi Mom, how are you?” 

Her mom’s warm voice filled Ellie’s ear as Diana asked, “I’m good, how are you? Are you still at work?” 

“Yeah, just finishing closing up,” Ellie replied, turning around and smiling as Chris gave her a small grin before he looked away, busying himself with his phone.

“Oh perfect! Amanda is taking Nathan to a little swim class tomorrow afternoon so we were going to do family dinner tonight. Dad’s got the brisket almost finished and I made your favorite cornbread muffins and macaroni and cheese.” 

“That sounds so good but I can’t make it tonight. Chris just got here and we were going to go out,” she explained, her eyes moving to glance out the windows before they moved back to Chris’ frame.

“You could bring him over if you want,” Diana said quietly, trailing off a bit before - at Ellie’s silence - she excitedly added, “You know that we all want to meet him!” 

“I don’t know Mom,” Ellie whispered, turning to face away from Chris as she admitted to her mom, knowing about Chris’ worries and past which had led them to take things slow, “I think it might be too early.” 

Without judgement or hesitation, her beloved mother rolled with the punches and replied, “Okay, well I’ll make sure to save you some leftovers.” 

“Thanks Mom, I’ll come over tomorrow, okay? I love you,” Ellie told her before they hung up, Ellie turning back around and seeing Chris raising an eyebrow at her from where he was standing next to the oversized windows near the door and the hall to the bathroom and kitchen. 

“Everything okay?” He asked with a casual and even tone, his face unchanging as he looked at her. 

“Yeah, it was just my mom. She was just calling to invite me over for dinner,” she shook her head and explained, “We normally all have dinner together on Sunday evening but they’re doing it tonight.” 

He shrugged, his expression shifting as he told her, “You can go if you want, I don’t mind.” 

“Well they invited you too but I told them we have plans,” Ellie added with a slightly tense grin, her face flushing.

“I don’t know that we really do,” he admitted with a chuckle, then reassured her, “We can go if you want to, Ellie.”

“Chris, I really don’t want to have to meet my whole family tonight. I know that’s a big step.” 

“I know, but I’d like to,” he insisted, moving from where he was standing next to the door to stand in front of Ellie behind the counter, facing her. 

“...Are you sure?” 

“Well I mean, I overheard there was brisket so that kind of sold me,” he chuckled, his face scrunching up. 

Knowing that this was his way of saying he was ready to take another step with her, Ellie wrapped her arms around his firm waist, looking up into his eyes for a long moment before she pressed a soft kiss to his lips, saying so many things without a word. Once they parted, Ellie grabbed her purse and Chris made sure he had his keys before they left the cozy bakery, Chris suggesting that she just ride with him on the way out to the tree farm where she directed him along a small dirt road alongside the tree farm until they reached the quaint farmhouse sitting in back that made Ellie feel warm from the inside out everytime she laid eyes on it. 

She couldn’t help but feel a little bit nervous, unsure how all of this would go. It still was all so new with Ellie getting to know Chris, not to mention the fact she met Hazel this week, but their discussion about taking things slow and not rushing anything from last week was still in the back of her mind. Chris still had walls up - not only around her, but around everyone who wasn’t Hazel or his brother - and although they’d made progress since then, she was worried that this could be too much too quickly.

If there was one thing that Ellie didn’t want, it was to scare him away. There was something different between them, something she hadn’t fully felt before and she didn’t want to lose that or give up on the possibilities of what could be. It wasn’t a secret to her that her family was a little unsure about Chris, with good reason, because of how it all had started with him hiding his past and Hazel, and she felt apprehension in her gut about how they could perceive him, or honestly how Chris would perceive them and possibly cause his walls to go right back up. 

But at the end of the day, she knew that she didn’t have control over it and had to let it be what it was, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t feel that knot inside her stomach when she came walking in the front door with Chris at her side. The lively conversation that was happening in the home immediately stopped when they stepped inside, all eyes landing on Chris before her mother happily announced, “You came!” 

“You know you’ll always get me when you mention your macaroni and cheese,” Ellie laughed, reaching to pull her coat off and hang it on the hook, then placed her hand on Chris’ thick bicep and introduced him, “But I want everyone to meet Chris and Chris, this is my family.” 

“It was really nice of you to include me tonight,” Chris told them with a shy smile on his face, the nervous look in his eyes that Ellie recognized from their first interactions together.

“We’re so glad you were able to come!” Diana smiled, moving through the cramped kitchen past the dining table from Ellie’s childhood to hug Chris tightly.

“Chris I know I’ve told you before but now that you have a face to the name, this is my mother Diana and that’s my dad, Brett,” Ellie told him, her voice soft as she pointed to her father. “Then this is my brother Daniel, his wife Amanda and this is my adorable baby nephew Nathan.” 

Chris smiled at them, the nervous look staying in the back of his eyes as he said, “It’s really nice to meet you all.” 

Ellie’s older brother had a smirk on his face as he reached for his beer, telling Chris, “We’re glad to meet you too, Ellie won’t shut up about you.” 

“Daniel!” Ellie quickly interjected, her cheeks flushing as Chris laughed, his nose scrunching with amusement. 

Brett quietly grabbed a beer from the fridge and offered it to Chris and he and Ellie moved into the kitchen more. Ellie was preoccupied with shooting daggers at her older brother, who was raising his hands innocently and saying, “What? It’s true.” 

“Ignore Daniel, he’s an idiot,” Ellie told Chris, shaking her head. “But my dad will be happy someone else is here to appreciate his brisket. It’s the one thing he cooks really well so he’s pretty proud of it.” 

“Hey, I made that turkey one time!” 

“Yeah and we practically had to use a chainsaw to cut through it because it was so tough,” Diana remembered, patting Brett’s shoulder as she moved past him to get another bottle of wine open, Ellie nodding when her mother silently asked her if she wanted any.

Amanda, who was holding baby Nathan in her lap, said with a smirk, “That was like four years ago and I still don’t think my stomach has fully digested it.” 

“Okay I think everyone needs to keep their sarcastic comments to themselves for once and get a seat at the table,” Brett cut them off, the laughter silencing as everyone moved to the table, where Ellie was helping Daniel add two extra places for herself and Chris.

They all sat down, Ellie watching fondly as Amanda and Daniel got Nathan situated in his high chair at one end of the table, just as Diana began passing around food for everyone.

“Chris, we’re so excited you could join us for dinner and get a chance to meet you,” Diana told him, glancing at him as she passed Ellie the salad. “Ellie said you’ve been here before.” 

He nodded from next to Ellie, and Ellie couldn’t help but squeeze his hand underneath the table comfortingly as she served herself some salad. She wanted to reassure him that they wouldn’t judge him, wouldn’t think he was anything beyond what he showed them to be, but she knew his mind was already beyond that. His voice wavered a bit in the beginning as he replied, “Yeah, my family always comes to your tree farm every year to get our Christmas tree. In fact, we were here just a few weeks ago getting our tree. We always love the ones we get from your farm.” 

Her father nodded as well from the head of the table, where he was sitting across from his grandson. “Well I’m certainly glad to hear that,” the man smiled, but then smirked and added, “And if you’re just lying to me to make a good impression, I accept that too.” 

“Chris, I know your sister Carly,” Amanda began to speak, turning her attention away from where Nathan was munching on some mac and cheese to look at Chris. “I’m the second grade teacher at Lakewood so I’ve met her a few times at staff meetings.” 

“Oh really? My sister loves that school and so do I,” he smiled, and it was the first genuine expression she’d seen on his face since they arrived, but the hint of tension and nerves remained.  “My daughter goes to preschool at Lakewood.” 

“How does your daughter like it?” 

“Oh she loves it,” he said easily before he shrugged, explaining,  “Hazel doesn’t have any siblings so she loves being around other kids. She told me the other day that the only bad part about preschool is that she can’t bring our dog, Dodger, to school with her.” 

Brett huffed out a laugh, shaking his head and pointing a finger at Ellie as he told Chris, “That sounds just like Ellie when she was a kid.” 

Ellie’s brother and parents began trading stories from Ellie’s childhood, of her misadventures at school, home, and around the farm. Chris laughed louder at each and every story, shaking his head as he admitted that they did sound just like Hazel - to everyone’s amusement. And while he often reverted back into himself as the conversation shifted to every new topic, Ellie enjoyed getting to see the way he navigated this evening. 

Although Ellie could tell how nervous Chris was from seeing the look in his eyes and his stiff body language throughout the early evening. She didn’t blame him for feeling that way with this dinner being sprung on him so suddenly, but it made her happy to see the tension leaving his shoulders and his expressions relaxing as the night went on. This wasn’t the first time Ellie had brought a boyfriend home, sitting in this exact same position but she hadn’t ever felt this level of comfort and felt that something was so right, especially this early on. Ellie already could tell that this was going to last. 

Tucking a piece of her wavy blonde hair behind her ear, she turned to look at Chris as he was sitting there happily listening to a story her father was telling and something struck her for the first time. She realized for the first time since meeting him that the handsome firefighter that sat next to her - who was a year and a half younger than her - didn’t seem older than her. Normally Chris carried so much on his shoulders from being a single parent to then going into a high stress job. He had been through so much in his twenty-eight years of life, and those experiences had only made him lean into growth and persevering through them all. 

But in this moment, he seemed like a normal twenty-eight year old, sitting with an arm resting on the top of Ellie’s chair, the other slapping against his chest as he wildly laughed at the ending of her father’s story. The weight of responsibility was gone from his face, replaced with nothing but contentment and it made Ellie want nothing more than to bring some of that peace to his life, lifting some of that heavy weight off his shoulders. The only thought that flashed through Ellie’s brain was just how much she loved this… just how much she was starting to love him. She knew she was falling and boy was she falling fast, but Ellie didn’t want to stop it because she wasn’t afraid of falling in deep for him. 

“Okay, I think it’s time for some cake,” Diana sighed as she pushed herself up, heading into the kitchen, where she grabbed the cake cutter from a drawer, just as Daniel excused himself to use the bathroom. 

Amanda sat up in her chair from where she was holding a babbling Nathan. “Oh, I brought some fresh strawberries too! I’ll go get them from the car,” she offered, then met Chris’ eyes and asked, “Chris, would you mind holding Nate while I go out?” 

“I’d love to,” Chris smiled, Ellie’s heart stopping as he reached for the baby, holding him in his thick arms. The dark-haired boy gave Chris a gummy smile as Chris said, “C’mere big guy.” 

Ellie couldn’t help but stare at the two until her mother interrupted her thoughts, asking, “Hey Ellie, can you come help me get those plates down?” 

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Ellie replied, standing up and moving through the archway into the kitchen. Once the plates were retrieved, she stood next to her mom and quietly asked,  “Okay, so what do you think of him?” 

“Oh honey, that boy is a keeper,” Diana told her in a hushed tone, looking at Ellie with a happy look on her face. 

“I think so too,” Ellie confessed to her as a large grin spread across her face. “I knew you’d love him once you met him.” 

“Honestly I wasn’t really sure what to expect with him,” Diana admitted, shaking her head. “With Chris not having told you the truth and knowing some of the things about his past I just… wasn’t quite sure what he’d be like but he’s a good one.” 

Ellie nodded, knowing they all had shared the same suspicions. She kept having the same thoughts about Chris on a loop in her mind and she had to vocalize at least some of it, telling her, “I’m really crazy about him, mom.” 

“I can tell he feels the same way about you.” 

“Do you think so?” Ellie asked quietly, hope filling her heart as it stopped beating. “I know Chris likes me but sometimes he’s just so hard to read. He’s more closed off with his feelings sometimes… I’m sure because of what he went through with his ex, but sometimes it just makes me unable to know what he’s really thinking.” 

“Ellie, seeing the way he was looking at you could have made me cry. If you saw the look on his face when he was staring at you while you were talking, you’d know that you have nothing to worry about with that one,” Diana reassured her, grasping her daughter’s arm before they heard Chris laughing and then saw him playing with Nate at the table.

And when Ellie walked back out to the dining room with plates of cake in her hands, she saw Chris look up from where he was sitting, playing with the happy baby and when she saw the look in his blue eyes, she knew exactly what her mother was talking about. Seeing the softness in his eyes and that little hint of a smile on his face made her know without a doubt that all of the things she was feeling were reciprocated just as much. 

Feeling nothing but overwhelming emotion for him, Ellie couldn’t help but lean down to press a soft quick kiss to his lips before taking the seat next to him again with nothing but happiness in her heart. Although he didn’t want to say it in front of everyone as they came back to the table, each grabbing their piece of cake while Amanda dished up the fresh strawberries, Chris felt that same happiness. It wasn’t really a secret that he didn’t have much of a social life. He really only spent time with his family, Hazel, and his co-workers, mainly Mark, during the week. He was too busy for a whole lot else and with his guarded nature, opening up wasn’t something that came easily to him, but with Ellie, he wanted to try. 

The feeling stayed with them both as they left Ellie’s parents and decided to head back to Chris’ house and see Dodger before it got too late. As he drove them across town and pulled into the short driveway, Ellie took in the dark home, unable to make out most of the details, but knowing it perfectly suited both him and Hazel. It could - in her mind - only be described as being his home, down to the Patriots camping chairs in the garage and the overwhelming amount of outside toys stored for Hazel. 

After greeting Dodger, the dog happy to see both Chris and Ellie, Chris let Dodger outside into the fenced yard while he dumped more water in the dog’s bowl. Ellie toed off her sneakers and joined him in the kitchen as Chris sat down ungracefully at the kitchen barstool, pulling out his phone while she grabbed herself a water. 

“Elles, come look at this video that Ashlee sent me of Hazel at the aquarium,” Chris laughed, waiting until Ellie sat down next to him and huddled next to her, slouched over the counter as they both stared at his phone. “Look at her face when that shark swims by!” 

She watched the video showing Hazel’s face from the side as she  - Chris’ profile - lit up when the shadow of a shark crossed the tiny face, Ellie laughing along with Chris and saying, “She’s so excited! God, could Hazel be any cuter?” 

“That little curly top melts my heart,” Chris said fondly, shaking his head and texting back a reply before he locked his phone, sliding it away from him on the counter. 

“It looks like she had a pretty good day today,” Ellie whispered to him as she faced him, her hand moving through the hair at the back of his head. 

He looked at her with that sideways grin that made her heart skip several beats, his hand moving to rest on her thigh as he told her with a shrug, “So did her dad.” 

“Other than the fact you had to go meet my entire family at the drop of a hat,” Ellie laughed, her thigh twitching as he gently squeezed it. 

But Chris shook his head, his smile falling as he told her, “I actually had a really good time. Your family is really wonderful,” then he paused, a smirk spreading across his lips as he told her, “Besides, seeing you hold your baby nephew was pretty damn cute. You looked really good with that baby.” 

Ellie let out a loud laugh, shaking her head and telling him with an eyebrow raised, “Well I wasn’t a pediatric nurse for nothing.” 

They laughed together, sitting contently together until his phone buzzed again with another picture of Hazel - this time of her asleep in her car seat - and laughed some more at the expression on the little girl’s face, at how exhausted she must have been after her big day with Ashlee. 

He was looking at his phone with that smile again before he looked at her again, the expression remaining as his eyes flicked over her face. And she knew. “Chris… I wanted to tell you something,” Ellie began quietly, her hand dropping to his shoulder. 

“What is it?” He asked, a single brow raised.

“I just want you to know that I love you, baby,” she said slowly, pausing nervously before she rushed to continue, “I know it’s really soon and that you've been through a lot in the past and you don’t need to say it back, but I just want you to know.” 

He hesitated, stammering a little as he told her, “Ellie… I…” 

“Don’t say anything,” she interrupted, reassuring him, “You don’t need to say a word, I just wanted you to know that I love you.” 

Hearing those words and letting them sink in made Chris feel like every wall he had around him came down at this moment. There was nothing but warmth inside him from hearing those words directed at him. At first he felt like it had been so long since he heard that but he realized that honestly it was the first time anyone, outside of his family, had said those words to him and actually meant it. Ellie spoke those words with nothing but truth and emotion, wanting nothing in return and that touched him so deeply that he could feel tears stinging at his eyes. 

All he could do was wrap his thick arms around her, pulling Ellie into him while he nuzzled his face in her neck, just needing to feel her close right now. He felt so undeserving, so inadequate to receive such pure love from Ellie, but he was receiving it nonetheless and nothing could have felt better. The anxiety in his brain wanted to convince him that her words weren’t true. That somehow there was something going on, some ulterior motive that would cause her words to be untrue, or that she’d change her mind later on, but he knew that just wasn’t the case. He could hardly remember the times that he and Ashlee had ever said those three words to each other, being so few and far between, especially after they were married, but it had never felt like this. Hearing those words from her never felt like it did right now and all the emotions it caused in him made Chris know without a doubt that they were true and honest. 

Chris lifted his head up just enough so that he could bring his lips to hers, kissing her with a wordless promise that although he wasn’t quite ready to take that step of saying that, he was feeling it inside and wanted to be able to communicate it back to her. He wanted Ellie to know just how much he adored her and wanted her in every sense of the word. Even the ones he couldn’t quite say yet. 

Their lips met over and over again, Chris’ hands slipping underneath her black shirt and far enough up her back for Ellie to pull away from his lips, “Chris… are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” he whispered without an ounce of hesitation or anxiety, moving to kiss her again.

But Ellie’s lips pulled back from his again, her eyes staring at him with furrowed brows. “We can wait, I don’t mind,” she insisted, swallowing nervously and continuing, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything just because I said that I love you.” 

Chris shook his head, trying to assure her that there were entirely no worries or fears that he had. He wanted her, and he knew that he wanted to do this. “I promise you I don’t feel that way.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Ellie… I just want you,” he whispered to her, a small grin on his face.

And if Ellie wasn’t already putty in his hands, she was completely melted from those words and the tender look on that handsome bearded face. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself completely against him while she kissed him with so much passion that Chris felt like he was seeing stars. They stayed wrapped up in each other’s arms, kissing passionately and building up the desire that was already burning between them. 

When neither could breathe properly, they pulled back, both bleary eyed and sloppily kissing at whatever part of each other's faces that they could reach. Finally Chris pulled back, his hands slipping out from under her shirt as he looked into her soft eyes, telling her, “I’ll be right back.” 

She watched as he pushed himself off the couch, going over to open the door to the backyard and called out for Dodger before the adorable pooch came trotting over to come back inside. Chris leaned down, kissing his head before leading him to the kitchen where he pulled out the bag of dog food, filling up Dodger’s bowl before grabbing him a bone to keep the happy dog occupied. When he walked back over to the couch, he saw Ellie relaxed against the couch, a happy contented smile on her face. 

At first, Ellie wasn’t completely sure what the chain of events would be, knowing that this next step wasn’t easy for Chris. He had expressed needing more time and Ellie wasn’t about to push him. She didn’t want to be the one to advance things, giving Chris an easy out incase he changed his mind, but when he leaned down and scooped her up effortlessly in his thick arms, it clued her in that she wasn’t the only one who was just as eager for this moment. 

Ellie threw her arms around his neck, clinging onto him as he carried her up the stairs and down the short hallway. She started kissing along his neck, her whole body feeling flushed at just how incredibly strong he was, and that mixed with his gentle demeanor was enough to light her on fire. 

He placed her down gently on the dark wooden floor, his hands moving to her hips just as she spun them, Chris’ back pressed to the white door as her hands squeezed his shoulders before she clung to him, kissing him with a fervor. Their hands were everywhere, grabbing and rubbing along whatever they could find, Chris feeling so weak at the way her body was flush against his. 

Ellie’s hands were squeezing at his broad shoulders while his lips attacked her neck, sucking along that soft skin that he couldn't wait to feel more of. Chris’ hands were lingering at her hips, unsure about the next move he should make, his fingers moving to hover around the button on her jeans before finally going for it and popping open the button. 

She moaned softly when he hit a particularly sensitive spot on her neck, making his pants feel a little tighter at that sound. His hands continued pulling at the zipper before he pushed the denim off of her hips, Ellie wiggling her way out of them as Chris’ hands trailed up her soft skin, feeling her thighs underneath his fingertips. She pulled back slightly from his warm body as his hands kept trailing upwards, her black sweater gathering as he followed the curve of her sides and took the black shirt up and over her head, adding it to the pile before Ellie threw her arms back around his neck to press herself completely against him, so desperate to feel him. 

Their lips met for about the thousandth time, kissing fervently as Chris started walking them backwards toward his large bed until Ellie’s legs hit the mattress. He gently pushed her backwards, letting her lay on the bed, her blonde hair splayed out on his pillow as she caught her breath. Chris climbed on the bed next to her, his lips immediately finding hers while his big hand rubbed along the curve of her side, wanting to commit the feeling of her soft skin to memory. He pushed away the thoughts that threatened to take over his mind, the fears and insecurities, and instead forced himself to focus on this - on Ellie, who was here, in his bed. She had already proved all of his fears wrong over these past three weeks, and while he was beginning to shift his views thanks to her, he was still fucking terrified to do this, even if he wanted to. And he wanted to.

“I love you Chris,” her soft voice breathed out in between their lips meeting over and over again. 

And those simple, honest words seemed to pull every doubt about himself from his mind for a moment. It had been so long since he had felt loved like this… actually he hadn’t ever really felt it from a partner before if he was being totally honest. But here he was, only a few weeks into this with Ellie and he was already in so insanely deep for her and that both terrified and electrified him. 

Needing to feel her, and wanting to - no needing to -  communicate all of the emotions inside him, Chris let his hand wander up to gently rub across her soft orange bralette, being able to feel her hardening nipples underneath the thin fabric. She sighed against his lips, letting Chris know how much she liked it but when his hand slid down farther and farther, he could feel a sudden exhale of breath from her that gave away her anticipation. 

Ellie’s heart was pounding when Chris’ warm hand slipped between her legs, cupping her over her scalloped edge floral cream panties. She knew he had to have felt how soaked she was for him already, knowing the fabric was more than just damp at this point and feeling his touch so close and yet not enough had her whimpering against his lips. 

He started sucking along her bottom lip as his hand gently caressed her over her floral panties, only getting Ellie more worked up than she already was. She didn’t feel like it was a secret that she wanted Chris in every single way. She was completely head over heels for him and getting to be laying in his bed felt even better than she dreamed it would have. Ellie breathed in his musky cologne, loving the way it made her feel completely surrounded by him while he let go of her bottom lip, coming back to kiss her deeply while a single finger trailed along her panty covered slit, causing a shiver to run down her spine. She needed him closer, her hips rolling up into his hand and giving him the hint as he kissed her senseless. 

“C-Chris, please babe,” she practically whimpered, too far gone already to hear the hitch in his breath at the begging. 

He was just as eager to feel her, bringing his hand up so he could slip it underneath her panties, his index finger bringing her a little bit of relief when it pushed between her folds. Chris felt his own arousal growing at the feeling of just how wet she was for it, helping to boost his ego a little bit in a moment he so desperately needed it. Their tongues were tangled together when Chris let his thick finger drag up and down her core, getting used to the feeling of her soft center that was so incredibly ready for him, but when he slid his finger up to feel her clit, Ellie had to pull away from his mouth as she gasped loudly. 

Chris started gently, rubbing extremely gentle circles along her sensitive button as Ellie laid her head back on the pillow. He couldn’t help but gaze at her, eyes shut tight while her pink swollen lips fell open as a long sigh fell from her mouth. She looked so beautiful laying there, making a wave of thankfulness wash over him that she had showed up in that bakery over a month ago. Although when he first met her, there was no way he would have dreamed that the sweet woman would soon be lying here in his bed, moaning out his name while he rubbed those perfect circles to drive her crazy. 

He saw her chest heaving as she labored for breath, his lips kissing along her neck, shoulder, collar bone and any other skin he could find while he kept working his fingers where she wanted him most. Ellie felt like her senses were on fire, loving that she felt him everywhere from the warmth of his body to the tickle of his beard and soft brown hair while he messily kissed and nipped along her skin. She loosely wrapped her arms around his shoulders, trying to pull his strong firm body even closer as his index finger started pushing a little harder and rubbing quicker circles that had her back arching while she squeezed her arms around him. 

Chris drank in all of the little noises that escaped her from her gentle gasps to sharp sighs, loving each and every one until her fingers dug into his back, clinging tightly as she inhaled loudly, cluing him in that she must have been right there. He sucked along the base of her neck as he kept up his tight circles, bringing her over her peak as she cried out, her body completely rigid before she seemed to completely melt into the bed, every inch of her relaxing into the soft blankets. 

His lips pressed a few kisses up her neck before finding her gorgeous relaxed face, placing a few sweet kisses to her cheeks and forehead, ready to lay down and see what would happen next. This softness, this calm energy that had settled over Ellie was something he wasn’t used to. Any previous experience in these situations was frantic before either an argument started or he left to go home, but as soon as Ellie was brought back to reality, she was grabbing for him. Ellie pressed her body up against him, pressing a few messy kisses at the edge of his mouth before finding his shirt and starting to tug at it. 

But suddenly that anxiety that seemed to always linger in the back of his head was thrust to the forefront. Although it wasn’t the first time he’d been in this situation with other women, it had been so long, and truly had never been like this before. He never was wanted for anything the way Ellie seemed to crave him, never desired. The few people he’d been with - including his ex and the tiny handful of random hookups he had early on in the divorce days - were purely out of a need to expel that energy, a need to handle the hormones. But Ellie seemed to just want him… for him. And that was something he didn’t know how to handle. 

He was so crazy for her, even if he was a little terrified to admit it, and that only made this so much more stress inducing. He wanted her so badly, and Chris knew he just couldn’t handle disappointing her. Although he knew Ashlee’s cheating wasn’t his fault, those feelings couldn’t help but haunt his mind a little bit. It gave him a lot of doubts in himself, and especially with his abilities in bed. Then, once he had a couple hookups after his divorced, and none had ever called back, it only added onto his doubts in himself. As if that wasn’t bad enough, it had been two years since he had a woman in this way and as bad as he wanted Ellie, he felt nothing but anxiousness at it all. 

Chris figured it must have shown too because Ellie stopped their kissing, pulling back as she just looked at him for a long moment, telling him, “Chris, we don’t need to do anything more.” 

He shook his head, whispering, “No, I-” 

“Seriously, Chris, that was amazing and I’m more than happy to stop,” she interrupted, a hand moving back and forth along his shoulder gently.

Chris was quiet for a moment before he admitted, “I want to… I'm just…” 

“I know baby, it’s okay,” she reassured him, leaning up and kissing him slowly before she pulled away and said,  “Let’s just get comfortable and relax, okay?” 

Chris’ brain reminded him that he had no clue how to do that, but Ellie seemed to read his mind, resting a hand on his bearded cheek before she leaned in to kiss him sweetly. She could feel the tension start to leave his shoulders as they kept kissing, and kissing… and kissing more. Ellie got her hands under his shirt, rubbing along his skin slowly before she finally got the shirt off of his body. 

He anxiously watched the look in her eyes as she looked him up and down, her hands coming out to rub along his firm chest, feeling his defined pecs underneath her touch that were covered in a few black tattoos and soft chest hair that only made him look even more manly to Ellie. She knew he was hot, that much was obvious, but actually getting to see what was underneath that shirt had her panties even wetter if that was possible. 

Ellie’s sole focus was helping Chris relax as she just kept kissing him slowly, no agenda while her hands ran along the muscular landscape of his body. She eventually helped him out of his jeans, still trying to go slow and give him plenty of opportunities to pull back but right when she was about to ask him how he was feeling and if he wanted to go any farther, those thick arms of his pulled her barely clothed frame on top of him, one of his hands running down her back and resting on one of her round cheeks, only half covered by her panties as he gave it a gentle squeeze. Suddenly she figured out that she didn’t need to ask him anymore if he wanted to go any farther. 

His kisses became passionate and needy as he kept kneading at her ass, his other hand coming up to tangle in her hair. She could feel his erection pressing against her through the confines of his boxers and just the feeling of how thick he was had her insides clenching. Eventually when she couldn’t breathe anymore, Ellie put her hands on his chest, pushing herself up so that she was straddling his waist. Chris was looking up at her through hooded lids, his lips swollen and parted as he breathed heavily, brown hair sticking up every which way and Ellie thought it was impossible for him to look any sexier than he did right now. His hands reached out to hold onto her hips, his thumbs rubbing small circles while she grabbed the bottom of her bralette, pulling it up and over her head, tossing it onto the floor. 

His eyes followed her movements, Chris feeling his boxers tighten as he swallowed and admitted, “If you’re trying to get me to relax, you’re not doing a very good job right now.” 

Ellie’s face scrunched with laughter, her head shaking. “I’m kind of glad,” she confessed with a shrug. 

“God, Ellie… you’re gorgeous,” he murmured, his eyes dropping momentarily before they met her eyes again. 

She practically melted from his words, her heart feeling so full as Chris effortlessly flipped her over so she was laying on her back, his hands on either side of her to hover on top. Chris’ mouth started pressing little kisses along her soft skin, coming down to press a few along the tops of her soft breasts, his mouth coming to wrap around one of her nipples, his tongue flicking across it while one of his hands laid on top of the other, delicately kneading it in his hand as he got to feel her for the first time. Hearing the way she gasped at his movements, her hands coming to run through his hair gave him the confidence to keep going, doting all the attention on her chest before moving down lower. 

His fingers were hooked in the band of her floral panties, his eyes flickering up to her one more time but at her soft nod and sweet smile, he pulled them off those long legs. When Chris’ blue eyes looked her up and down, seeing her completely bare to him for the first time, he could hardly believe it. She was here, laying naked in his bed wanting him. She wanted him just for him. She loved him. And nothing could have felt more incredible to Chris than that. 

All of that anxiety and stress was still there but he knew he wanted her. He was terrified to dive in, but Ellie was worth every bit of anxiety and he decided to overcome his stress and slip out of his own boxers. But when he saw Ellie’s eyes grow wide as she looked at him and a shiver ran down her spine, that gave him the little bit of a confidence boost he needed to position himself between her legs. 

“You ready, honey?” He asked, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. 

She almost moaned out, her legs moving to wrap around his trim hips as she whimpered, “Yes, please baby, I need you so badly Chris.” 

“You got me, Elles,” he murmured, and Ellie’s eyes shut tight as he drug his tip along her soaking wet slit before he gently pushed in so slowly that both of them were crying out as they clung to each other. 

She couldn’t seem to find her breathe while her walls adjusted to his thick size, loving the way he filled her so well and just how damn good he felt. She was so thankful that they’d talked about things prior and agreed they’d forgo condoms since Ellie was on the pill - which was another way he showed his full trust to her, only showing her what big strides he was making in trusting her fully. But she still could only seem to focus on how perfectly he seemed to fit in her, just how glorious this feeling was and with the way he was letting out those soft sighs, she figured he must have been thinking the exact same thing. Chris eventually pulled back before pushing in again gently, beginning to find that slow perfect rhythm. 

Neither could breathe very well as Chris started rocking his hips slowly, letting her feel every inch of his thick cock with each thrust dragging against her smooth walls. Ellie reached up, rubbing her hands on his chest for a long moment before he hit her particularly deep, making her fingers dig into his shoulders as she let out such a loud moan it made him twitch inside her. 

Chris’ blue eyes flickered down, watching Ellie’s body bounce slightly with each thrust, her chest heaving as she alternated between moaning and breathing. Her eyelids were closed shut but eventually slowly flickered open, landing right on his. Chris could feel his heart pounding from the way she so softly smiled at him and grabbed the back of his neck to pull him down on top of her, their chests pressed together while her lips found his and Chris’ hips kept up their steady motion. 

His arms snaked between her body and the mattress, holding her impossibly close against him, every inch of them touching in some way or another. He had never felt anything like this, realizing in that moment that he had never felt sex this way before. In the past, it had been purely physical, little or no emotion behind it. But this… this was so different. This gorgeous kindhearted woman who was kissing him so deeply, loved him. And he knew that he had fallen in just as deep, the connection they shared being unlike anything he’d ever experienced or even thought possible. 

Their lips pulled apart as Chris picked up his pace, both of them panting as they each were getting closer. Chris moved his arms so he was braced on his elbows on either side of her, nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck and kissing her a few times before he felt her hand slipping between their bodies. Knowing where she was going, he leaned his weight on one arm so he could use the other hand to gently push hers away, taking its place and starting up those methodical circles against her clit, making her arch her back, crying out his name and panting until she hit that beautiful peak. 

A low grunt escaped his lips when he felt her insides clenching him so perfectly, making it hard to keep thrusting, only getting three more before he held his hips inside her and came with a loud moan. His whole body felt weak from the exertion, beads of sweat along his forehead as they both tried to catch their breath. 

Her hand moved from clenching the muscle of his shoulder to the back of his head, running through the sweaty hair there. Chris tilted his head, pressing a few kisses to the skin there on Ellie’s neck as he basked in this feeling… for the first time ever. He was used to rolling off of each other, taking a shower alone, or just going to sleep immediately on opposite sides of the bed, but with Ellie’s hands holding him to her, he couldn’t help but indulge in this. 

They each relished in the afterglow until he gently pulled out and made his way into his bathroom, cleaning himself up before he came out with a washcloth and helped Ellie. Chris went back to toss the washcloth into the bathroom to be dealt with in the morning, sliding on a pair of sweatpants quickly before heading toward the bedroom door but before he could make it all the way out, a gentle voice stopped him. 

“Chris?” Ellie asked carefully, sitting up in bed as she gathered the comforter around her naked frame. “Aren’t you coming back to bed?” 

As he looked at her running a hand through her messy blonde hair, he couldn’t help but feel warm from her words. That simple question that showed him that she wanted to just be close to him was enough to cause his heart to melt right then and there. It reminded him that he wasn’t here with one of his relationships from the past, the connection after sex being nonexistent, he was here with Ellie. His girl. And she was nothing like he’d experienced before and everything he’d always wanted. 

Silently, Chris turned and opened up one of the dresser drawers, pulling out a navy pullover fire station sweatshirt and walked over to the bed to sit down next to Ellie. He grabbed the bottom of the sweatshirt, holding it out to her so that she could easily slip her arms and head into it, helping her pull it down around her naked frame to keep her warm. Chris then pulled the white comforter up farther before he leaned in to kiss her sweetly, causing Ellie to smile into the kiss. 

“Just going to get Dodger and turn out the lights, then I’ll be back,” he whispered, pecking her lips quickly again before he straightened up again and looked at her with a small smile. 

Chris hurried down the stairs, turning off the lights before finding Dodger roaming around in the kitchen. He scratched his head softly before telling him, “Alright bubba, it’s bedtime.” The sweet pooch followed behind Chris while he went over to fill up a glass of water, before going back up into the peacefulness of his bedroom. 

Ellie was already snuggled down into the bed and he was already internally deciding how he should ask her about Dodger. Ever since he got Dodger after his divorce, the sweet pup had slept in bed with him - even at the firehouse - but he wondered if she would even be alright with him sleeping in the bedroom. He was trying to figure out how to phrase the question but it got answered for him when Ellie sat up a little bit, patting the bed while she beamed, “Dodger! C’mere boy!” 

A smile crossed his face as he watched Dodger hop up, going straight to Ellie’s waiting arms and laying half on top of her as he licked her face, making her beautiful laugh echo in the room. He silently watched from the doorway as she doted all her attention on the pooch before turning her head, worried as she asked, “Sorry, I should have asked if it was alright if he got on your bed.” 

“Well considering he sleeps here every night, yeah, it’s okay,” Chris shrugged, crossing the room slowly and stepping over Hazel’s stray stuffed llama that was lying on the floor.

“Good because I think this poor guy would feel left out if he couldn’t sleep up here with us tonight,” Ellie laughed, jerking her arm away when Dodger tried to start licking it. 

“I brought you some water in case you were thirsty,” Chris told her quietly as he came over to Ellie’s side of the bed, bending down to put the water on the nightstand next to the bed as he watched the pair fondly. 

Her eyes were wide, a grin on her face as her eyes flickered from the glass of ice water back to his face, before moving to Dodger and back again. “You really are the sweetest man I’ve ever met,” she whispered.

Chris felt a blush spread across his cheeks, a sheepish look on his face while he shrugged and admitted, “I don’t think bringing water earns me that title.” 

“Well you’ve done quite a few other things that have bumped you up to that position,” Ellie trailed off, a single finger running over Dodger’s back. “My mother was right this evening when she said that you were a keeper.” 

Instantly a stronger blush filled Chris’ cheeks at the compliment, another thing he wasn’t used to, while he nervously scratched the back of his neck. Ellie just scooted over in the spacious bed, flipping back the covers to silently invite him in which he gladly accepted. He felt a little tentative at first, just laying on his back, unsure how Ellie would feel about his arms around her, recalling how little affection there was between him and Ashlee and how she always rejected his advances of such. 

But an unconscious smile slipped across his lips when Ellie immediately curled up against his side, laying her head on his shoulder while her arm wrapped around his firm middle and a leg lifted up to lay on top of his sweatpant covered thighs. Not feeling any reciprocation from him, she tilted her chin up, softly asking, “Is this okay?” 

Pulling him out of his internal thoughts, Chris looked down, bringing a hand to rest on her cheek as he assured her, “More than okay,” before he kissed her sweetly. It was quiet as they both relaxed into the bed, wrapped up in each other and happier than they knew possible. 

Ellie’s eyes opened slowly, taking a moment to come into focus, seeing a different room than she was used to seeing when she woke up in the mornings. Her eyes then shifted to look next to her, seeing the hunky sleeping firefighter right next to her. One of his hands was resting on his chest, the other resting up above his head, mouth hanging open as he soundly slept. She thought it seemed like a dream at first, not believing that last night could have been real, but as the memories started coming back to her, she remembered that it was. 

Dodger laid snoozing on the end of the bed as Ellie scooted a little closer to Chris, wanting the warmth his body was radiating but causing his eyelids to slowly flutter open at the movement. His blue eyes looked right at her, a closed mouth smile appearing on his handsome face before he reached out for her, pulling Ellie close before he closed his eyes again. 

His chin tucked on top of her head when Ellie rolled onto her side next to him, both of them taking the morning in slowly as he whispered to her, “Morning Elle Belle.” 

“Hi baby,” she quietly replied, a grin on her face as her fingers danced over his bare pecs. 

“Did you sleep well last night?” 

“So well,” she admitted, then frowned a bit. “I wish I didn’t have to go to work today so I could just sleep in.” 

“Hand me my phone, I’ll call Dottie and convince her to give you the day off,” Chris told her, Ellie glancing up to see a smirk on his face and his nose scrunched up.

“I know you could too, she adores you,” Ellie laughed along, but then sighed and frowned a little. “But I really need to go in. Dottie won’t be there today so I’m the manager. I still have an hour before I need to get ready though.” 

“Good,” Chris nodded. He reached for his phone, swiping through the notifications on it and told her,  “Looks like it snowed last night.” 

Ellie yawned loudly, relaxing against his firm body. “Yeah I think so.” 

“Can I drive you to work? I don’t want you to have to drive in fresh snow,” Chris asked her quietly, his hand moving down to rub her hip underneath the baggy fire station sweatshirt he’d given her. 

She smirked a little, shrugging and telling him, “You’re going to have to because my car is still at the bakery from yesterday.” 

“Oh my god, I totally forgot!” He laughed, his head leaning back against the fluffy pillow. “Was that only yesterday?” 

“Yeah, but a lot has happened since then,” Ellie shrugged playfully, rolling over a little so she was half on top of Chris and able to look him in the eyes easily.

“A lot of good stuff,” Chris agreed, his eyebrows raising as he pecked her lips quickly before she settled back onto his chest, a hand trailing along his chest. She took in the tattoos on his chest for the first time - seeing the long quote along his collarbone, a tattoo on his right rib cage, and one she immediately knew the meaning of stretched along his left pec - reading ���Hazel” in delicate lettering. He stretched underneath her as his phone vibrated against the mattress, Chris reaching for it just as she began to trace his collarbone tattoo. 

“What time did you say you need to go in?” 

“I need to be there at nine,” she whispered, her finger moving over his skin and the smattering of hair there. 

“Okay, Ashlee is asking what time I’m coming to get Hazel so I’ll go get her after I drop you off.” 

“Chris…” Ellie trailed off, her brows furrowed deep in thought. “Does she know… about us?” 

“Not yet. When I brought her by the bakery I just introduced you as my friend,” Chris shrugged, his hand moving up and down along her back.

“No, not Hazel. Does Ashlee know about us?” 

She heard him open and close his mouth a few times, taking in a sharp intake of breath as he whispered,“Oh…” 

“Does she know?” Ellie repeated, turning her head up to look at him.

“She’s not really the easiest person to tell things to,” Chris whispered, a frown on his face. “I’m waiting to tell her until we’re both ready for you to meet Hazel as my girlfriend. Until then, it doesn’t really have anything to do with her. Ashlee can be… difficult so I’d rather wait until I have to.” 

Ellie nodded, her chin on his chest as her hand resumed its path along his tattoos. “I was just wondering.” 

“But I don’t want you to mistake that for not being serious about you, Elles,” he whispered, a small smile appearing when they met each other’s eyes. “I’m… really happy when I’m with you.” 

And Chris knew without a doubt how true those words of his were. He had never felt this way. Never felt this purely happy before except when he was with Hazel, and it was a feeling that he was ready to get used to. 

A/N: WE MELTED WRITING THIS CHAPTER. We really loved getting to write Chris and Ellie hanging out with her family for the first time and Chris getting redeemed in their eyes. Then, Ellie telling him those three words, and Chris knowing that they are truthful for the first time.... ever.... melts us! Oh and then the smut ;) We can't wait to hear your thoughts!

[angry-geese]

Can I request nsfw+fluff gojo x fem!reader? (established relationships) Just gojo being horny and needy after weeks not seeing reader due to work. (Uuuu and may I add breeding kink too <3 ) Lmaooo what's wrong with me✋🏻😔 I love your works btw and just take your time💕💕 here *slides a cookie 🍪 *

YESSSS gojo + breeding kink is top tier. i got a little carried away with this one lol

When We Meet Again

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Warnings: shameless smut. oral (fem receiving), creampies, mating press, unprotected sex, fingering, fluff and smut. slight somnophilia (kinda??) fem!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

jjk masterlist

It's well past midnight by the time he gets home.

Save for a single light in the kitchen, the apartment is dark. Leftover pastries sit out on the counter, covered with a bowl to keep bugs from getting to them, alongside your keys, and an empty mug of tea. A grocery list has been stuck to the fridge. A rack of dishes sits beside the sink, drying.

You're not in your usual spot on the couch. He's not surprised. It's late. And though you don't have work in the morning, you were never one to stay up so long. You must have gone to bed already. You might have stayed up had he bothered to tell you he was coming home. But he didn't. His plans changed at the last moment, and not even he knew he'd be back so soon.

He hates being gone this long. He misses sleeping in his own bed. Sometimes he forgets just how cold a bed can be without someone else in it.

The door to your shared room is open. Though it's dark. There's a faint green glow from the alarm clock on the side table. The moon is full enough tonight to provide a bit of light; a pale silver glow fills the room. And there you are, curled up on his side of the bed. In one of his shirts. A black button up that’s a bit too big for you, with sleeves that hang well past your fingertips.

It's not like he can refuse. If he’s getting called out to help, then there's probably not someone who can go in his place. The strongest doesn't really have time to take a vacation. He’s on call 24/7. Between his teaching job at Jujutsu Tech, and the major clans of Jujutsu society constantly demanding his attention, he’s rather short on free time.

It was a tedious job. Not worth his time. Not particularly tough, albeit time consuming. But the previous two sorcerers came back with nothing. And so he was sent out. Cleaning up someone else's mess.

The first week he called every day. The job wasn’t supposed to take any longer than that. Or so you both assumed. As the second rolled through, your calls grew shorter, and less frequent. He found himself frustrated with the lack of contact. It wasn't either of your faults. Your work called for you to be out during the little free time he had. Overtime. When you did have time to call each other, you were often exhausted, and short with him. The distance was putting a strain on your relationship.

The worst part of it all; he couldn't fuck you. And for a man that could go multiple rounds in a day, that was miserable. His love language is touch. Not being able to hold you was… well, miserable.

You don't really know the extent of the effect you have on him.

He's too tired to change, and he showered before he left, so he strips to his boxers and pulls his side of the blankets aside. Tomorrow is laundry day anyway. You always choose Sundays for laundry day, because that's the day before you have to go back to work. There's just enough room between you and the edge of the bed for him to slip in.

When something makes him stop dead in his tracks.

It's your voice. You’re calling out his name. You aren't awake, and though you do sometimes talk in your sleep, tonight is different. When it does happen, it's usually nonsense. Soft, endearing babble that he can't help but listen to. He says your name, softly, but you don't respond. Enough moonlight streams in through the window to see your face. Your brows are knit in concentration—possibly frustration—and sweat beads in your hairline.

Are you having a nightmare?

The bed dips under his weight as he sits, resting a hand on your thigh. Your skin is rather warm, he notes. You roll over onto your side, burying your face in his pillow. He pulls the blankets up, tucking them around your shoulders, as you’ve kicked them down by your feet in your sleep.

There it is again. You say his name, but there's a level of desperation behind it.

There's no denying the wetness between your thighs. You squeeze your thighs together in an unconscious attempt to get some relief. Your breathing is labored.

It's only a moment later that the realization kicks in.

The grin that splits his face can only be described as malicious in nature.

His hand creeps higher on your thigh, nudging the hem of your—his—shirt up. You’re not wearing anything underneath. The sight of your slick cunt is nearly enough to make his cock stand to attention.

His gaze falls to the curve of your hips, just barely illuminated by the moonlight. He likes the light of you in his shirt a little more than he likes to admit. Though he’s never been quiet about how much he appreciates your body.

Your body freezes the moment his thumb grazes across your slit. So does he. You’re so wet. Must be a real nice dream. You roll onto your back, your legs parted slightly. The soft gasps and moans that leave you are like music to his ears. Gojo takes this as an invitation to continue, his hand moving further up your thigh, lazily tracing circles into it.

You must've missed him more than he expected.

Your body registers that someone is touching you before it registers just who is doing such. In your sleepy, dream-ridden state you don't recognize the figure in front of you. In the dim light of the room, you can make out a mess of white hair, and the reflection of dark, round glasses shoved up into his hairline. Gojo’s eyes practically reflect in the dark.

You jolt awake, sitting up. “Jesus christ-”

“‘S just me, Mochi,” he says, though it does little to settle your nerves.

If you weren't awake before, you certainly are now.

“What? You watch people in their sleep now?!” You scold. “‘Toru- you scared the hell out of me!”

You flop back on the bed. The blankets pool around your hips. You reach to pull them back up, finding your bed colder than usual.

"You were calling out my name." He says.

"Oh," you say, and though there's little light in the room, he watches your face flush, "must have been dreaming about you."

“Wanna recreate what you were dreaming?” He asks. Rather smugly, might you add.

You roll your eyes. “Go to sleep.”

"Scoot over then. I'm gonna fall off the bed."

This prompts an evil sounding giggle from you, followed by a: "fall then."

"Alright," he says, rolling over to lay on you, throwing his arm around your waist. You’re effectively pinned under him, as the awkward angle won't allow you any leverage to throw him off. He attacks the exposed part of your neck with kisses, sucking hickeys into the flesh of your neck and shoulders. His hair tickles your skin.

“‘Toru- stop!” You squeal. “Let me go-”

“Not until you apologize,” he says, planting a wet kiss on your jaw.

“Never!”

“Then I guess I won't let you go.”

His arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you flush to his chest. One of his hands finds your own, his fingers lacing with yours. His legs tangle with yours in a way that holds them in place. Worming out of his grip in this position would be a near impossible task.

You suppose there’s worse fates than this.

It would be easier to stay awake if he wasn't so warm. Or if he didn't smell so nice. Or if he wasn't softly rocking your body with each breath he takes. His thumb traces soft circles around your knuckles. Gojo’s breath is warm against your neck, making goosebumps rise along the soft flesh. The steady sound of it is almost enough to lull you to sleep.

"I missed you." You say. Your voice is almost too soft to hear.

“I know.” He says. His arms give your midsection a reaffirming squeeze. “I missed you too.”

“How was work?”

“A shitshow,” he says, leaning to nip at your earlobe, “but I get to come home to you, so it’s not all bad. How’s everything been around here?”

“Quiet.” You say. “Kinda boring without you. I wish you told me you’d be home tonight. I would have done something special.”

“It was a spur of the moment decision.” He says. “I didn't expect to be home so soon either.”

“We should do something tomorrow, then,” you say, “a new ramen place opened up down the street. You know where the old bakery used to be? They leased the place out.”

Gojo hums in response. Ramen sounds nice. Especially now. But he’s too tired and too horny to worry about food. Why have ramen when he has a meal right in front of him? Or a snack, as he often likes to call you. To which you roll your eyes, but there's no denying how he makes you blush.

You take back what you said about finding it easy to sleep. He’s moving around a bit too much for that. Gojo isn't subtle about it either. Nothing about the man is. He foregos subtly in favor of announcing nearly everything he does. Loudly. Who would dare stop him?

But you guess it's part of his charm. His dorky, sappy charm. You’ve kind of signed up for it, so you’re not complaining.

You scoot away from the edge of the bed a bit, thinking he needs more room. Gojo pulls you back to his chest, thinking you’re trying to run away from him.

“Quit squirming.” You hiss.

“Sorry Mochi,” he says, “just tryna get comfortable.”

And he really does mean it. But he’s been gone from you for so long that he's forgotten how nice your body feels against his. A little too nice, he’ll admit. Phone sex is nice, but it's not the same as the real thing. It gets old after a while. His hand doesn't quite compare to yours. Or the real thing. Something hard presses against your thigh from behind.

That's when it clicks. You just smell so nice. Your body is so warm against his. You look so nice in his shirt. Can you really blame him for getting hard?

You aren't sure he knows that you know. You shift a bit. It appears you’re only trying to get comfortable. His grip around your waist loosens, allowing you to settle a bit closer to him. You can't help it if your shirt rides up a bit, exposing the perfect curve of your ass. He prefers you in nothing at all, though the sight of you wearing his clothes is certainly a nice one. Any sight of you is. Gojo is shameless in the way he adores your body.

Once settled, his arms return to your waist. His head falls into the crook of your neck. He’s doing little to hide the tent he sports in his boxers. Maybe he thinks you don't notice. Or maybe he’s trying to ignore it.

“Stop that,” he says.

“I'm not doing anything,” you say, with the same evil giggle as before.

“Why do I not believe you?”

His lips find your neck, sucking a dark mark into your pulsepoint. The sudden sensation of lips on your neck makes you squeal. In your ear he coos every sappy nickname in the book that makes you blush.

You hardly notice as his hand trails lower. Your legs part just enough for him to slip his hand between them. He does nothing but seek out your warmth. Yet.

A familiar tension returns to your stomach. It's not unpleasant.

So that's what he was doing. Not that you’re complaining.

“Missed you, Mochi,” he says, gasping at the wet feeling of your cunt, “missed you so much. You have any clue what it's like being around all those weird old men all day? For days on end, no end in sight?”

It always surprises you just how bad the man can be with words, yet how good he is with his mouth.

His fingers find your clit, drawing lazy circles around the bundle of nerves. Your breath catches in your throat. You can't deny how nice his long fingers feel inside of you.

“Seems like you’ve missed me too.” He says, his breath warm against your ear.

“Whatever you want to think, old man,” you say. Though you have missed him. You always do. But there's some fun to be had by teasing him.

“Old man?!” He sounds genuinely hurt. “Don't be like that. I know you like having me around.”

“Oh really? What makes you think that?”

His fingers move to press into the tight entrance of your cunt, his thumb brushing across your clit. The soft gasp that leaves you is practically music to his ears. To give him credit, he is good with his hands.

“Did you think about me while I was gone,” he coos, “did you touch yourself while you did it? I did. Couldn't keep my mind off this sweet cunt of yours. I think I want a taste.”

Your only response is a soft moan. Heat pools low in your stomach, growing in intensity with each skilled movement of his hand. He moves so you can lay on your back. Your hands find the sheets, holding them in a death grip. Gojo nudges your legs further apart with one of his knees.

The kiss he pulls you into is uncharacteristically soft, and needy. He moans nearly as loud as you when you nibble on his bottom lip, hips lips parting, allowing the strong muscle of your tongue to explore his mouth.

Your hands work to undo the top few buttons of your shirt, exposing your breasts. His free hand comes up to grope appreciatively at your tits. Gojo has never been shy about how much he adores them. Or shy ever, to his credit. You’re his, and he would show you off to the world if you’d let him.

But sometimes he prefers to steal you into his domain, and hold you there. Close. Where you’ll always be at his side. The one place in this universe he can truly promise you’ll be safe.

You hardly notice as his kisses trail down your neck. Down the valley between your breasts. Working the last few buttons of your shirt open with his long fingers. What you do notice is the sudden absence of his hand.

Your legs part to give him room to settle between them. His head rests on your stomach. His warm breath tickles your skin.

"You gonna let me have a taste?" He asks, nipping at your thigh.

You swallow hard, eyes locked on him. Slowly, you nod.

You gasp at the feeling of his warm tongue, licking a stripe from your bellybutton to your mound. He's not touching you where you need him most. And that frustrates you. You buck your hips up towards his mouth, eliciting a soft laugh from him. He can't tease you too long. His cock is painfully hard, leaking against his thigh in his boxers. He can only hold himself back for so long.

You freeze at the feeling of a hot tongue against your clit.

Gojo eats pussy like a starving man, presented with his favorite meal. He does nothing short of savoring you. How you smell, how you taste, how you sound. He's shameless in how he adores this. Gojo moans nearly as loud as you at the taste of your cunt. Sweeter than his favorite dish. Meant to be savored.

You can't deny that he's good with his mouth. His tongue works circles around your clit, drawing gasps and moans from you.

Heat builds in your stomach, drawing you closer to your impending orgasm. One that comes upon you far sooner than expected.

Maybe you’re more pent up than you thought.

Your thighs clench around his head as you cum hard. He lets you ride out your orgasm on his tongue, working you through it with his skilled mouth. He’d stay with his head between your legs forever if you’d let him. Which you don't, as overstimulation soon registers in your lust addled mind, and you shove his head away.

The lower half of his face glistens in the dim light, wet with saliva, and your own slick. He’s far from subtle in the way he licks his lips, or groans at your taste. He may have gotten a bit too excited. It's not unlike him to get carried away. How can he resist a fertile cunt like yours?

“I think you should taste yourself,” he says. His hands move to cup your face as he pulls you into a kiss. You taste yourself on his lips. His hardened cock grinds against his thigh.

“‘Toru-” you whine.

“What's the matter baby?” He coos. “Use your words.”

“Fuck me.” You say. “I need you, ‘Toru. I need your cock in me.”

“Why didn't you say so?” He says, though the desperation in his voice is palpable.

He wastes no time in shoving his boxers down his hips, freeing his cock.

He’s not the most intimidating in size, but his cock is nice, and fairly thick, with a slight upward curve. The patch of hairs towards the base are soft, and white. Generally you don't need a whole lot of prep to take him. Which is helpful when he can't keep his hands to himself, and insists on fucking you in the bathroom during dinner. As much as he likes to take his time with you, he’ll take you anywhere you’ll let him. At work, or over every flat surface of your apartment. Not a single room of your home was spared. Not that either of you mind.

“Gotta work you open first,” he says, “don't want you to be too tight, do we?”

Between his saliva, and your own slick, you put up little resistance. He’s able to slide one finger in. Then a second, with no issue. His fingers curve, stroking your g-spot. His thumb works soft circles around your sensitive clit as he works you open with his fingers. Really, this is unnecessary. Your cunt is practically dripping with your own arousal.

He makes a show of licking his fingers, groaning at the taste of you. Gojo really has no shame.

The moan he lets out as he sheathes himself is truly sinful.

It's another moment before he starts thrusting.

Gojo needs a moment to collect himself. He’s been working himself up for hours if not days. All the nights he spent, thinking of what he’d do to you once he got home. He’s gone over this day in his head about a hundred times.

The sound of his hips slapping against yours fills the room. His taunts turn into senseless babble. Strands of praise mixed with Gojo’s overall dorky remarks. Pleas of your name, calling you mochi, baby, honey, and every other sappy nickname he can think of. His head falls into the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. He’s not going to let you leave this bed until you’re thoroughly marked up.

Tension grows in your stomach like a rubber band being stretched tight. Your previous orgasm has left you overly sensitive, and leaves another orgasm creeping up on you sooner than expected. His hand falls to your stomach, working lower until his thumb finds your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub.

He presses your legs further back, shoving them almost to your chest. The stretch leaves a pleasant burn in your hips. Your body isn't really meant to bend this way, though it’s not completely uncomfortable. It's not long before he has you into a full mating press, rutting against you desperately, fucking you into the mattress. The bed frame groans in protest with each of his thrusts. Deep, and unrelenting. Gojo’s cock curves in such a way that hits your sweet spots just right, leaving you writing under him.

“Gonna put a baby in you, Mochi,” he says, “gonna breed this pretty cunt of yours.”

You nod along desperately. You want nothing more than for him to cum inside, filling you completely.

He silences your moan with a kiss, his teeth clashing against yours. His tongue presses past your lips, exploring the wet cavern of your mouth. You can still taste yourself on him.

A line of saliva connects your lips as he pulls away.

“Not gonna ask you to take all of it,” he says, “but take everything I got.”

And with that, he can't hold back any longer, painting your womb white. Gojo’s cum is normally thick, and there's normally a lot of it. Today even moreso. Two weeks away hasn't helped with that. Cum runs down your thighs in streams, ruining your sheets.

The elders aren't going to be happy that he’s so reckless with his precious seed, but Gojo couldn't give a damn. The elders can talk all they want. That's all they're good for. He gets to cum in a warm place, and that's more than any of the others can say.

He practically collapses on top of you.

Gojo shifts so less of his body weight is on top of you. And though the room is rather warm, you find yourself nuzzling into his body, seeking out his warmth. His arms have always given you a sense of security, especially when wrapped up in them. They find your waist, pulling your back flush to his chest.

For a moment the two of you lay there, basking in each other's warmth.

You’ll have to get up in a bit anyway. To clean yourself up, and change the sheets. And get a new shirt. Probably another one of Gojo’s. He’s never been against seeing you wear his clothes. They never stay on you for long, though.

You pry his arms off, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, but he notices, and tightens his grip.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, sounding rather offended.

“To get a drink,” you say, “I'm thirsty. Why? Do you want one too?”

“You think I’d let you go after just one round?” He asks. “You’re not leaving this bed until I’ve fucked you full of my cum.”

You're in for a long night.

[jodilin65]

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 1989 I had quite a hectic day. I went to Food Mart and waited an hour for a taxi which never came, so finally, after waiting for ages for Andy, who’s such a wonderfully considerate friend, he came in a rental car with Nancy, a gay friend of his I never met before. I finally got home, then a few minutes ago I called to thank him and he screams, “Fine! Forget it!” in a really snotty tone.

I am really sick and tired of his shit and his expecting me to be in a perfect mood 24 hours a day and never say anything depressing or negative. This is why I don’t associate with or meet people. I’m tired of kissing ass to the good, decent, stable people and having to watch everything I do or say. I am who I am and if people don’t like it and I’m not good enough for them, then they’re not good enough for me and I’m not gonna just settle for the mental cases and desperados.

Otherwise after getting home and everything over with I was feeling pretty good and Jai cooked us hamburgers, green beans and chicken noodles for dinner.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 1989 This morning I woke up feeling somewhat like I was developing a cold, but I think it was just the usual stuffiness I wake up with due to smoking and allergies, and I still haven’t been eating well.

Tomorrow I’m going grocery shopping which I hate. I’d definitely rather clean and do laundry.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 1989 I start music school tomorrow! Tomorrow’s my theory class from 3:30-4:30, then Wednesday’s my piano class from 11:30-noon, and voice is from noon-12:30. I’m really psyched, but my breathing’s really pissing me off. I got a scholarship, but cuz they only have so much scholarship money to go around, I put off the guitar for a while.

Jessie did convince me, however, to check out HCC. I know I didn’t give it much of a chance, but that’s cuz I didn’t want to have to take all the other stuff that’s required with it and was terrified of all the paperwork, but she says it’s a cinch and that the extra stuff is easy as hell.

Also, we were discussing the possibility of us moving to Easthampton where there’s no waiting list for subsidy and that’s not a housing project-type building like Carabetta. It allows you to choose wherever you want to live as long as the landlord accepts it, and you can have up to 5 bedrooms even though it’d be just me, her and Wyatt, who’s now 16 months. She is the only other one I could live with besides Andy and even though Andy and I have more in common than me and Jessie, me and Jessie don’t have this tension between us like Andy and I do. Well, I’m not gonna do anything unless I’m 100% sure of it, and if I do it won’t be for a while.

The other night me and Jessie went out to Chinese food and I teased the shit out of her over her $300 phone bill which got disconnected. Her adoptive father is Big Bird of Sesame Street. You’d think he’d want to help her out more often. Anyway, she said she’ll call me from a payphone or school or her mom’s house.

Dad was all psyched about school and I think he realizes now that it’s important to me to do only what I love and he definitely feels I’ve got what it takes.

They’re supposed to be sending me some clothes by UPS.

Later…

Well, they screwed up my schedule at school so I missed my fucking piano and voice class today thinking I had theory class instead and I spoke to both my piano and voice teacher and they sounded super nice and said there’d be no problem making it up.

I haven’t heard from Jessie yet today and there’s no answer at Andy’s. He’s probably asleep and I don’t wanna call him if he’s up watching All My Children, his favorite soap, and interrupt him.

Seeing that last night was a Friday night, I was hoping that Linda and Nissan and company would call, but they never did and they probably won’t again. I really wish they’d call, though, and I never should’ve let Linda see the recording device cuz that may scare her from calling. I’m just so curious to hear what they could have to say next.

Hank from over on Oswego St. called last night and today, but I didn’t feel like talking to the drunk. I wonder how long it’s gonna take him to wake up and get the hint without me having to break his face.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 1989 The night before last, I got a phone call about Nissan. I talked to two women. I know the first one I spoke with was definitely Linda, asking about Jessie, Andy and Tony. Whoever the hell Tony is beats me, unless she’s talking about Tony the cop. The second person I spoke to knew Nissan for sure and mentioned some of the shit that happened with us, saying she’s out to get me and that she’s talking about me to everyone, and that she investigated me and knows I’m a pain in the ass and that I’ve been arrested, in institutions and so on. She says that Nissan’s been having a hell of a field day at my expense as if that hurts to know. Then, she said she wanted to meet me and that she understood my fears and concerns, after asking me a million questions and saying she didn’t know Julie and only knew Nissan vaguely, and that she was just a passenger at the time when she heard me go off and then apologize, saying I didn’t take my meds, which I don’t remember at all. Then she said that she thinks Nissan’s an asshole and she wants to meet me cuz she’s also a victim of society, foster homes and assholes, then she’d swing back to the Nissan’s-gonna-get-you routine.

She sounded very butchy and I sure as hell don’t trust her and I think she’s pretty pissed about my not wanting to meet her. I wonder what Linda’s explanation about all this will be. She was definitely the first voice I heard, but I never heard that girl with the younger higher voice before in my life.

I know this was tied in with Nissan, but now I know Linda’s involved, too. I wonder if Linda knows Nissan. And how do they know about my record? Did I mention it to Linda? Maybe she is a cop now or cop-connected. I don’t know if I can trust her now. Is this for not being interested in her after she told me she thought I’d make her a good wife before I moved back here?

I taped the whole thing, but couldn’t tape the first one I got several weeks ago cuz I didn’t have this recording device before.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 1989 I am still wide awake after going to the Pub last night with Andy, then over to his place to see an old special of Charlie’s Angels. Kate Jackson was just as gorgeous as I remembered her to be except all their clothes were hideous as they were back in the 70s with those hideous bell-bottom jeans.

God and our grandparents sure were with us once again last night when a drunk driver came flying out of nowhere through a stop sign as we were cutting through side streets from Belmont Avenue to Sumner Avenue and we just missed hitting this car by only inches. We would’ve been dead for sure and Andy had kept saying he had this feeling all night that we’d have a close call with death. This is why I’m terrified to drive. If it had been me driving, and I did drive part of the way, I’d have panicked and not hit the brakes in time. There are so many crazy drivers out there, especially at 2am when the bars close. He’s an excellent driver. I’m not able to be as alert as he is and most people are and observe everything around me besides just straight ahead. He always wears his seatbelt, but that time he didn’t and after that close call we both buckled up. We just weren’t meant to die, I guess. We both know for sure why we’re alive.

I asked Andy why I’m not ugly or butchy looking since I’ve been ordered to be celibate by God and he says it’s for my career. He’s probably right. When I said God forbids me to have sex with an attractive woman and that it can only be ugly dykes or men, he said I could have sex with a good-looking woman, but that I couldn’t have a relationship cuz of my chemical imbalance and I agree for sure.

We went to the Springfield Denny’s for breakfast then did some errands, got my refill on Navane and am gonna go to go bed cuz he’s gonna be here at 6:00 to do his laundry.