#and it’s not even close to august yet—it’s just gonna get worse from here
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Now that I’m back in Hot Soup weather I miss the dry desert heat soooo much
#80-90 degrees in NM is sooo much nicer than 80-90 degrees here#i feel like i’m in a hot bowl of soup i hate it#and it’s not even close to august yet—it’s just gonna get worse from here#ship makes a personal post
0 notes
Note
hiii not sure if you’re still taking requests but
no upside down au where teen single dad steve approaches eddie after hellfire bc every parenting stuff keeps mentioning how reading to babies is super important for their development but his dyslexia makes reading so hard let alone be expressive w it too and the kids keep mentioning how eddie is amazing on dnd. eddie is skeptical cause how come no ones has heard of king steve’s one year old ? but he accepts when steve offers paying but after seeing steve w his baby and understanding how he changed he refuses the money and cue them slowly falling in love and becoming a family <333
Sorry this took *checks watch* like 9 months to finish! I kinda took some creative turns, but it's done!
read on ao3
rated t | 5,182 words | no cw | tags: mostly fluff, single parent steve, not canon compliant, mutual pining, getting together, love confessions
📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚
Early August 1985
“Steve, it’s not like he’s gonna fuckin’ bite, dude,” Dustin said from the passenger seat.
“Language.”
“She’s not even awake,” Dustin whisper yelled. “I promise he’s cool. The worst he’ll say is no. It’s not like he’s gonna bully you.”
“No one else knows I’m asking him this, right?” Steve was suddenly worried that all the kids knew about Steve’s learning disability and they’d think he was actually stupid and-
“No, it’s just me. But if you don’t hurry up and go in before everyone else gets here, they’ll find out.”
Steve glanced in the backseat, smiling to himself at his sleeping daughter. She’d been out for nearly the entire drive from his house to Dustin’s to the high school, so she’d probably be waking up within the next 20 minutes and she’d be ready to stretch her legs.
She was a squirmy thing from the moment she figured out how to scoot around the floor, and it only got worse when she learned to walk at 11 months. The only time she was still and staying out of trouble was when she was asleep.
“If she starts crying, just sit back there with her. She just likes having company,” Steve reminded him as he unbuckled his seatbelt.
“Yep. I’ve literally babysat for you before. I can handle her for 5 minutes.”
“Attitude.” Steve shook his head and opened the door, getting out and only closing the door most of the way so it wouldn’t wake her up.
Eddie always showed up 30 minutes early for Hellfire Club to set up according to Dustin. He took this club very seriously, even as a third year senior. He kept it running all summer so that incoming freshmen would have time to get acquainted with his style of DMing or whatever.
Steve respected the dedication, though he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe that dedication were put into his homework, he would’ve graduated in May with Steve.
But Steve couldn’t actually judge. Not with the fact that he was pretty close to not graduating himself. He had a pretty good reason, but still.
The auditorium door closed loudly behind him, making him jump and clench his jaw painfully.
“Door’s broken. You gotta hold it while it closes so it doesn’t slam,” a voice said from the door to the backstage area.
Steve squinted through the semi-darkness and felt his stomach turn. Eddie.
“I guess it’s been a while since I’ve had to open it. Figured they would have fixed it by now,” Steve replied, walking closer to the guy he needed to talk to.
“No shit! Is that King Steve? In the flesh?” Eddie’s dramatics were endearing, even if it was slightly annoying that he pulled out the stupid high school nickname he’d lost well before he graduated.
“Yeah,” Steve sighed. This wasn’t gonna go well.
“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but none of your precious kiddos have made it yet. It’s still early.”
Steve nodded. “One of them’s sitting in my car in the parking lot. Um, Henderson? He’s an incoming freshman.”
“Ah. Dustin’s got a place in Hellfire if you’re worried. I don’t turn anyone away who wants to be here.”
“No, no, that’s not it.” Steve needed to just spit it out. “He said you’re like, great at storytelling or whatever. Like you’re the best DM he’s ever seen and he knows I could use those skills for something.”
“Oh? What could Steve Harrington need DM skills for?”
“My daughter.”
The silence following his confession was louder than the door slamming only a minute ago.
He probably could’ve revealed his motives a little better, work up to the fact that he even had a daughter maybe. Very few people actually knew, and he had to keep it that way until he could leave his parent’s house.
“Your…daughter.”
“Yes. She’s just turned one and the doctors said reading to her is like, super important for learning words and helping her learn how to have an imagination and stuff. And I do read to her!” Steve suddenly felt worried that Eddie would think he was a bad parent. “I try to. But I’m, well, Nancy says it’s dyslexia? So words are kinda hard and it gives me a headache if I try to read for more than a few minutes and I’m so busy focusing on the words I don’t think I’m making it very fun for her-“
“Woah. Steve. Slow down.” Eddie braced his hand on Steve’s shoulder and squeezed. “I didn’t even know you had a daughter. Does anyone know you have a daughter?”
“The kids do, yeah. My parents do because they kinda helped cover it all up and made sure I still graduated so I didn’t embarrass them or whatever.” Steve looked down at the floor, shoving his hands in his pockets. He didn’t really want to go through the whole thing with this guy. “Robin Buckley knows? She’s my best friend. The Byers and Wheelers, Hopper. Some teachers know but were sworn to secrecy.”
“Huh.”
Steve looked up to see Eddie stepping closer to him, soft smile on his face.
“So what do you need me for exactly?”
“Dustin said you’re really good at telling stories and I figured maybe you would be willing to read to her? Not every day, like I can work with your schedule or whatever. Evening would be best for me, but it’s not really a big deal if it has to be other times. She comes to work with me so if it had to be during the day, you could sit in the office or something, I dunno.” Steve shrugged. He hated asking for help. But Dustin insisted Eddie was actually a good guy and would keep his secret. No one who saw her at work assumed Steve Harrington was a single parent at 18. That would just be absurd. “I just don’t want her to miss out.”
Eddie’s hand drifted down his arm, holding his hand for a moment before he stepped back.
“My schedule is kinda random. But I’m sure we can work something out.”
Steve’s shoulders fell as his body relaxed. “Yeah? I can pay you. Not much. My parents mostly cut me off.” Steve was scrambling. “I can give you gas money and stuff for having to come to us. And like, food? I can cook.”
Eddie’s eyes were intense, watching his every move, making him nervous.
“How ‘bout a free trial? I’ll do it for a couple weeks and then we can see about payment.”
Steve nodded eagerly. “Yeah, yeah. Cool.” Jesus, he was embarrassing. What happened to his charm? “Would you be able to start soon?”
“Normally, I’d say I can come by after Hellfire, but I have an…appointment right after tonight. I can come by tomorrow?”
Steve smiled. “Tomorrow’s good. I work until five.”
“I can be at your house by seven.”
“Great! I have plenty of books. Right now, she’s really into Old Macdonald, but I think it’s just because it sorta sounds like her name and we get to make silly noises,” Steve smiled to himself, not seeing the way Eddie was smiling too. “I think she’ll probably like whatever you read to her, though.”
“What’s her name?”
“Mackenzie. Robin read it in a book and said it meant fire-born or something? It sounded cool. We call her Mac or Kenzie for short so she hears Macdonald and thinks we’re giving her another nickname,” Steve laughed. “Anyway, I better get back to the car. If she’s awake and Dustin has to deal with her crying for too long, he gets an attitude.”
“Mackenzie. I like it.” Eddie nodded once. “See you tomorrow, Stevie.”
Steve agreed and waved, turning around to leave. By the time he realized Eddie’s nickname for him, Eddie was already backstage.
****
Steve was nervous.
He nearly burnt the chicken he was cooking for dinner just from getting distracted by thoughts of Eddie being in his home.
He didn’t even know why. Maybe it was the fact that he’d always thought Eddie was kinda rough around the edges and was surprised he’d agreed so easily. Maybe it was bringing someone new into the small group he’d had around for a couple years. Maybe it was the way Eddie’s hand on his shoulder seemed to leave a permanent mark despite being one of the softest touches he’d felt from another adult in a while.
Mackenzie was in her high chair already, eating some of the noodles he’d made as a side. She’d been practicing using a fork, so quite a few had fallen on the floor, but Steve still smiled and told her she did a great job any time she managed to get one to her mouth.
The doorbell rang and Steve felt his heart stop.
“Daddy!” Mackenzie squealed when the bell rang. She knew that usually meant Hopper was here. Everyone else just came inside on their own. “Hop!”
“No, baby, not Hop. Not tonight. It’s my friend, Eddie. He’s gonna tell you a fun story, okay?” Steve ran his hands through her hair as he walked by to get the door.
When he opened the door, Eddie was standing there with a handful of books, a box of crayons, and what looked like a hairbow.
“I’m here to entertain the princess!” Eddie exclaimed. “Lead me to her highness!”
Steve couldn’t hide the grin on his face if he wanted to. “She’s currently trying to stab noodles to death. I’m sure you’ll be entertained.”
“Ah, they must have wronged her. I’ll assist,” Eddie made his way past Steve, walking towards the kitchen.
Steve knew he’d been to a couple of the parties he threw to sell, but had no idea he remembered the layout of his house. Maybe he had one of those picture minds.
As Steve entered the kitchen, he noticed that Eddie had set down the pile of books on the counter before he sat down in front of Mackenzie.
There were a few books he recognized: an ABC book that he was pretty sure he’d had when he was a kid but had since lost, a book of fairy tales with Rapunzel on the cover, something by Beatrix Potter, and a couple of coloring books that featured princesses and dragons and horses.
“She isn’t really old enough to color, is she?” Steve asked, interrupting what must have been a very amusing conversation of mostly babbling. “I don’t have any coloring stuff.”
“Coloring with skill? No. She definitely doesn’t have the motor skills to color in the lines or even use the right colors for the right things. But it does help her learn how to hold a crayon. My uncle couldn’t really afford much when I was a baby, so for every Christmas until I was in school he would get me new crayons and coloring books. I don’t really remember how I did, but I do remember having fun.” Eddie turned back to Mackenzie. “And sometimes it’s fun to just make a mess, right?”
Mackenzie clapped her hands together, sending the toddler fork she’d been using to the floor with a noodle attached to it. Steve wordlessly grabbed one of her spoons from the drawer and gave it to her, kissing the top of her head before he knelt down to pick up the fork.
Eddie watched silently, something soft about the way he didn’t interrupt anything even though he could’ve kept talking.
“I made chicken and pasta. It’s probably not my best work, but I made enough for you if you haven’t eaten yet,” Steve offered as he walked to the stove to start plating the food for himself.
“I wouldn’t turn it down. Wayne’s not exactly known for serving five star meals,” Eddie joked. “He believes in the power of fried bologna and cheese sandwiches with a bag of chips.”
Steve grimaced. “Okay, well I made enough for you to bring home some leftovers too.”
“You don’t have to-”
“You’re taking home leftovers.”
Steve turned to see Eddie’s widened eyes and open mouth that slowly formed into a smile.
“I guess I’m taking home some leftovers.” He turned to Mackenzie and tickled her neck. “Your daddy is pushy isn’t he?”
Steve blushed, but continued making up a plate for Eddie.
As they sat and ate, Eddie talked about all of his favorite books for little kids, and how he remembered sneaking into the library after school for years because he knew he didn’t wanna go home. He talked about the first time a teacher wrote a positive letter home, an English teacher who said his fictional essay was the best in the class and he should consider writing as a career. He even talked about his plans for the school year campaigns, but made Steve swear��not to mention anything to the kids.
“I’ll know if you tell them,” Eddie winked.
Steve believed him.
When they were done, Steve grabbed Mackenzie from her chair.
“I’m gonna give her a quick bath if you wanna bring all that stuff to her room. Second floor, third door on the right. It’s a little messy right now. Someone decided to pull all her toys from her box yesterday and I haven’t had time to clean it up,” Steve tickled Mackenzie’s side, making her giggle and turn her head into his shoulder.
“You need me to clean this up?” Eddie asked, gesturing to the table.
“Nah, I’ll do it while you read to her.”
Despite his efforts, bath time was never truly quick. Mackenzie loved to splash around and play with her toys, and if he tried to wash her hair too quickly, she would be grumpy for the rest of the night. He definitely didn’t want that for Eddie.
He set a timer for 10 minutes and tried to explain to a very excited Mackenzie that when the timer went off, it would be time to wash her hair and get out.
“You wanna have time to play with Eddie, so we can’t play for too long in the water.”
She didn’t seem to pay any attention to him, already too busy making her rubber duck fight with her mermaid Barbie.
He observed while she played, bringing in the rubber car she liked to pretend to drive on the side of the tub.
When the timer went off, she let him wash her hair without a fuss, and he quickly wrapped her up in a towel to get her into pajamas.
Eddie was waiting in her room when he got there, coloring books spread out on the floor. He smiled up at them from where he sat, legs crossed, hands in his lap.
“Squeaky clean?” He asked, waving at Mackenzie.
“Definitely lacking noodles in places noodles shouldn’t be at least,” Steve said, making his way to her changing table to get her dressed. “She must be pretty excited about you being here. Usually bath time takes at least 30 minutes and I have to bribe her with chocolate milk to get out.”
“She knows we’re gonna have a lot of fun. I think I’m gonna read Goodnight Moon first. That’s one of my favorites.”
“She’ll love that,” he said as he buttoned the snaps of her onesie.
As soon as he set her on the floor next to Eddie, she reached for a coloring book with a mermaid on it.
“Daddy! Muh!”
“Yeah, baby, it’s a mermaid! Just like your doll in the bath.” Steve pointed to the fish next to the mermaid. “And that’s a fish. Fish swim in the ocean.”
He felt Eddie’s eyes on him while he pointed to some other sea creatures and told Mackenzie what they were.
Eventually, he looked over at Eddie, blushing at the soft smile on his face. “What?”
“You’re a really good dad, Steve.”
“Oh. Uh. Thanks,” Steve felt heat flood his body.
It’s not that no one had ever said that to him. Robin had told him plenty of times, Joyce had whispered it to him when no one else was paying attention, even Hopper had given him a handshake and said he was doing a good job once. But hearing it from Eddie, in this situation, when he’d been feeling like such a failure lately, was enough to make him want to cry.
He had to get out of this room.
“I should go clean up and leave you to it.”
“Sure, yeah. We’ll be right here.”
Steve booked it out of the room, rushing down the stairs to try to get busy with cleaning before his brain settled on crying over a compliment.
But the table was cleared. The high chair was wiped down. When he turned to the sink, the dishes were stacked up to dry in the rack. The counters were wiped, the dish towel had been put back on the handle of the oven to dry, and leftovers had been put in a container to finish cooling down.
Steve let the tears fall.
Fuck it, if Eddie was going to be this nice, he could have a little cry.
He walked quietly to the bathroom to put all the bath toys in the basket, but stopped outside Mackenzie’s bedroom when he heard giggling.
He’d closed the door halfway, just so she wouldn’t get too distracted if he walked by the room, but he couldn’t help looking in.
He felt like crying again when he saw Mackenzie sitting on Eddie’s lap, pointing at something in the book.
“Where’s the moon?” Eddie asked.
“Moo!” Mackenzie said, smacking at a place in the book.
“There’s the moon! Good job, little one.” Mackenzie leaned back against Eddie’s chest. “And where’s the…toys?”
She pointed again, but slightly less enthusiastically. Steve could see her energy dropping quickly.
He watched as Eddie told her she did a good job again and then continued reading.
Her eyes drooped more with every page. Eddie’s voice got closer to a whisper with every sentence.
Steve fell just a little bit more with every second that passed.
*****
October 1985
Eddie came every day. Despite the fact that Steve insisted he didn’t need to, that he didn’t want to ruin his schedule, Eddie showed up like clockwork at seven every single evening.
Steve learned to expect him, always made enough dinner for all of them to enjoy before Mackenzie had her bath and then got to read with Steve.
Every night, Eddie would clean up while she took a bath, and every night, he’d let her pick a page to color while he read something to her, switching to a bedtime story when she started crawling into his lap.
Steve would watch them often, laying down on the carpet and smiling as he listened to Eddie use different voices for characters, asking her questions so she was involved, and whispering when she started to drift off.
Other times, he’d try to get something done he’d been putting off, like cleaning the bathroom or folding laundry.
Eddie never accepted payment.
Steve tried bringing it up once school started, certain that this time spent here could’ve been better spent on homework or a part-time job that paid better than what Steve could offer. Eddie just shook his head and insisted that other than Hellfire every Thursday, he would be there for free.
They got to know each other over dinner, and Steve found that he was right to have butterflies every time Eddie smiled at him, every time he would touch his hand as he walked by to say hi to Mackenzie.
“Halloween costume ideas?” Eddie asked with his mouth full. Steve had given up long ago on trying to get him to wait until he was done chewing. It wasn’t that big of a deal. “What did this little miss go as last year?”
“Oh. She was a bumblebee.” Steve smiled at the memory. “Cutest costume I saw all night.”
“I bet.” Eddie took a sip of his water. “And you?”
“Oh, I didn’t dress up.”
“What? Why not?” Eddie sounded genuinely upset.
“Just got away from me, I guess? By the time I thought about it, nothing good was left at the store,” Steve shrugged, unbothered. He’d never been that into Halloween. His focus was making sure Mackenzie had fun.
“And no one offered to help you make something?” Eddie was no longer eating and Mackenzie had turned her attention to him when his tone became serious.
“I didn’t ask.”
“But no one offered.” Eddie stood up and walked over to his backpack. “Okay, we’ve gotta plan. Did you already pick something for her?”
He came back holding a notebook and a pencil, brows set in a straight line. Steve had never seen him look so serious.
“I had a few ideas, but I wanted to let her pick something at the store,” Steve said.
“Lay them on me.”
They discussed costumes for the next 30 minutes, but after only 10, Mackenzie whined to get out of her chair. Eddie wordlessly stood up and picked her up, setting her in his lap and letting her poke and prod at him and his notebook.
Steve watched them both, accepting for the first time that this wasn’t just a crush that was gonna go away.
He’d fallen completely head over heels for Eddie, and he had no clue what to do about it.
*****
November 1985
Steve was the only one who had space to host Thanksgiving.
He became manic a week before, realizing that his work schedule would not allow him to have much time to clean unless he did it at night. The problem was that he would get a migraine if he didn’t sleep.
“So let’s work on it together. I can come right after school. Cancel Hellfire this week,” Eddie offered.
“But you already won’t have it next week because of Thanksgiving. I can’t ask you to-”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering. If I’m gonna be eating here, I should probably help clean up at least.”
So they worked on a little at a time.
Eddie wasn’t always helpful, getting distracted by some of the smallest things. But his company was appreciated all the same.
“You could invite Wayne, ya know,” Steve offered while he dusted the shelves in the living room. “Plenty of room and food.”
“Thanks, but he always works Thanksgiving day for the double pay. We usually do something the day after,” Eddie answered while he cleaned up all of Mackenzie’s toys.
“If he decides not to work, just let him know.”
“Will do, Stevie.”
He didn’t just help clean, he helped him do the shopping, too.
“I know it’s way harder with a baby, so if you give me a list, I can handle the shopping,” Eddie said while Steve plated their dinners.
“You don’t-”
“Have to, I know. But I can and will.” Eddie’s hand brushed against Steve’s lower back. “Let me help.”
Steve could barely resist the shiver that took over his entire body.
“Okay. Sure.”
Some of the brands were wrong, and he forgot the apples for the apple pie, but Steve still felt immense relief knowing that he had someone to help.
And without it, Thanksgiving would’ve been a disaster.
It was still a bit of a mess, but that was mostly because the kid’s table turned into a food fight that Max started and Mackenzie, of course, continued, until everyone was involved.
But the picture Jonathan took would get framed and hang up near the fireplace in the living room anyway.
******
December 1985
“I cannot believe you waited until Christmas Eve to wrap gifts. That’s not what parents actually do, is it?” Eddie asked as he fought with the tape dispenser for the fifth time in less than an hour.
“I don’t know if I’m the best judge of what parents do. Mine weren’t around much and probably didn’t even wrap my gifts themselves.” Steve took the tape from him, pulled some loose from the roll, and handed it back. “But I kinda always pictured it like this.”
Robin made him swear he’d talk to Eddie about his feelings before the end of the year. The end of the year was soon, real soon.
What better shot did he have than while Mackenzie was asleep and they were wrapping presents together?
“You pictured last minute wrapping with bribed help in your living room?” Eddie asked, amusement in his tone.
“Not exactly,” Steve huffed out a laugh. “More like spoiling my kid with someone I care about.”
Steve watched Eddie’s hands freeze against the clothes box full of new finger puppets they’d both gotten her. He looked over and felt his stomach swoop as Eddie’s eyes found his.
“Stevie-” Eddie set the box down and turned to face Steve.
“Wait, I just. Before you break my heart, hear me out.” Steve already felt his world shrinking, his heart rabbiting in his chest at the thought of losing Eddie entirely. “I’ve spent a lot of time with you for months. Like, more than almost anyone else. I’ve watched you with Kenzie, and how much she loves you and always asks for ‘Ed’ even when it’s way before when you’re gonna be here. You make me smile and laugh and that’s not always easy to do these days. You helped me when you didn’t have to, when you had absolutely no reason to trust that King Steve was a better person. You’re there for all the other kids even though you’re trying to get through school for real this time. I didn’t really plan a big speech, sorry. This is just rambling, I’m doing what Robin does.”
“It’s okay,” Eddie placed his hand on the side of Steve’s neck. “I get what you’re saying.”
“You do?”
“I think so.” Eddie stepped in closer. “But I think you might just be lonely.”
It stung. It wasn’t inaccurate, but it still hurt to think Eddie thought so little of him.
“I think I know how I feel.”
Eddie’s hand dropped from his neck and he took a step back. “I don’t wanna argue, Stevie. I just think you might need to separate yourself from the situation. I’m just always around, ya know?”
“You’re always around because I want you around!” Steve was just a bit too loud, but he knew Mackenzie was a heavy sleeper. “When you aren’t here, I check the clock to know when you will be. I get excited to leave work now because I’m not coming home to do the same thing I always did before. I get to see you and hear about your day and talk to you about mine and see you with my daughter, who probably loves you as much as I do.”
“You…love me?”
“Yes. I do. And I promise it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I still want you here, reading to Kenzie. But I know how I feel. I know why I feel the way I do. You can’t tell me how to feel.”
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to.” Eddie sighed. “I’m just kinda surprised. Didn’t expect you to be into guys, let alone me. I’m not exactly good boyfriend material. Or stepparent material, either.”
“Oh, fuck that. You’re more her other parent than her mom ever was. She gave her to me the moment she had her and wished me luck before her entire family moved across the country.” Steve felt tears in his eyes. “I trust you. I want you around. I love you.”
Eddie swallowed, eyes pointed towards the carpet.
A minute passed, two. It was rapidly approaching awkward when finally Eddie spoke.
“But I’m so bad at wrapping presents.”
Steve snorted, but felt relief wash over him. “I can do the wrapping. This Christmas, next Christmas, as many Christmases as you’ll stay.”
“All of them?”
“Sounds good to me.” Steve leaned in slowly, let his hands grasp at the front of Eddie’s shirt to pull him closer. “How many Christmases do kids usually believe in Santa?”
“I dunno. I stopped believing when I caught my dad stealing the two presents under our tree when I was four.” Eddie let his hands fall to Steve’s hips. “But something tells me the little princess will be a believer for a while. Better get used to me ripping holes in the paper and using too much tape.”
“Think I can handle it.”
Every time Steve had pictured kissing Eddie before this, he’d thought it would be like any other first kiss, maybe a little awkward since it was his first with a guy.
Instead, it was soft, sweet, slow, perfect. He’d kissed a lot of girls in high school, had kissed them well. Not all of them were great, but even a less than good kiss was still decent.
This was more than any other kiss he’d ever had.
Eddie held him like he would never let go, like this kiss would last forever.
It couldn’t, but that’s how it felt.
When they finally pulled apart, Steve rested his head on Eddie’s shoulder.
“You wanna stay tonight? We can both do the Santa gifts with Kenzie before all the kids bother us,” Steve asked.
“I should call Wayne. I told him I’d be home by midnight.”
“He can come over in the morning, too,” Steve said. “If you want.”
“Are you sure you’re ready for Wayne? He can be a little…gruff.”
“I’m not worried,” Steve kissed Eddie’s cheek. “Hopper’s basically my dad. Plus, Mac’s got a way of breaking the tough old men down.”
“Bets?”
Steve pulled away and started wrapping another present before he got too distracted. “I give it ten minutes.”
“Oh, how generous. I’m giving it five.”
They both laughed as Eddie decided he’d be more help putting already wrapped presents in her stocking and under the tree and making sure everything was put away when Steve was done.
And for the first time, Eddie stayed the night, holding Steve against his chest while they slept.
They both cried when Mackenzie opened her presents excitedly. She was too little to do it herself last year, so seeing her tear through the paper and find joy in throwing it around the room was like a dream come true for Steve.
Eddie admitted he felt like he was intruding for some of it, but Steve quickly reminded him that he was the first person she toddled over to with her new set of princess books and said “Ed, read.”
She sat in his lap right then, even though she still had quite a few presents to open, and he read every single book to her, making her giggle with his high-pitched voices for the princesses and silly accent for the prince.
By the time the kids were coming through the front door, Steve was rushing to shush them, pointing at the couch where Eddie was passed out with Mackenzie curled up against his side.
Steve was never happier than in this moment.
Until the next one, and the one after that.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#anon request#fluff#domestic fluff#single parent steve harrington#getting together#love confessions
237 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sick Vampire - Stories of the Shaw Pack
Characters: Darlin'(Tank)/Sam, Vincent, Marie
CW: None; Fluff
Written August 2023
Summary: Sam gets sick and Darlin' is there to take care of him.
Can be found ✨here on Ao3✨, written by moi (cyan_bug37 on Ao3)
~~~~
Sam rarely got sick. Honestly it was a surprise that vampires could even get sick at all. Yet here he was, his head muddy and heavy, his nose making it hard to breathe, and standing up made him dizzy. One of his occasional coughs would ring out in the silent home. He had felt this way for awhile, but he honestly couldn’t remember what day it was.
“Google doesn’t say anything about vampires getting sick,” Darlin’ walked in with a warmed up mug. “Maybe we should call Vincent?”
Sam leaned forehead into his hands, his head too heavy to keep looking up. Darlin’s warm hands settled onto the nape of his neck, and stroked all the way down to his shoulders. Darlin’ was starting to get worried, as this was the third day Sam didn’t seem to be getting any better. They couldn’t tell if he had a fever, his temperature was not accurately reading on the thermometer, and honestly, Darlin’ couldn’t tell if his temperature actually changed.
“Sure,” Sam slurred, the effort of talking felt too difficult to do.
Darlin’ grabbed his hands and carefully placed the mug in them. His hands were shaking. Luckily they had put a straw in there, seeing as lifting the mug was a great effort. Sam took a sip of the drink and closed his eyes.
“I’m gonna be back in a second,” Darlin’ kissed his temple. “Just keep drinking the tea.”
Darlin’ slowly got up and grabbed their phone from the kitchen. Clicking on Vincent’s contact they held the phone up to their ear.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Vincent. This is Tank. Uh, Sam is sick. He’s not doing too hot, and I– I don’t know what to do? I figured I would call you before I tried calling a healer in my pack. Do vampires get sick?”
“Woah. Okay. How sick is he?”
Darlin’ bit their lip before responding, “He’s gotten worse from the first day. He can barely stand up without possibly fainting. And he seems to have a headache and he keeps talking to a minimum. He doesn’t seem very hungry either, I mean, vampires don’t eat much in general, but his appetite is unusual.”
“How long has he been like this?”
“Three days,” Darlin’ replied.
“I remember William saying that vampires can get sick sometimes if they drink bad blood–”
“He could be poisoned?!” Darlin’ panicked.
“Nononono. Not– no. It’s more like picking up a bug from school when you were a kid. Bad blood is a terrible term for this– He’ll be fine. Considering that I haven’t ever seen Sam sick before, this could be his first time exposed to the bug. I got sick like that once. You just have to wait it out.”
Darlin’ exhaled.
“I would suggest the usual when someone is sick, to just let them rest. I’d also call your healer if you want to double check. Make sure he gets something to drink from in a few days, if he’s still sick.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll text you if William suggests anything else. Don’t worry. He’ll be fine,” Vincent replied.
“I appreciate it, Vincent,” Darlin’ said.
“No problem! I hope he feels better soon!” Vincent said his farewell.
Darlin’ decided to call Marie next. Even though they didn’t know if Marie knew how to cure vampires, it still wouldn’t hurt. “Hi, Marie,” Darlin’ said as soon as they heard the phone pick up.
“Hi kiddo, what’s wrong?”
“Sam is sick,” Darlin began, and then proceeded to list off his symptoms that they told Vincent. “Do you know anything to help him feel better?”
“It's quite interesting that a vampire can get sick. I can’t say that I know anything about it though. I never really dealt with vampires much. I could come over today and see if I can do anything about it,” Marie suggested.
“That would be good. Thank you,” Darlin’ agreed.
“Sounds good. I’ll come by this afternoon.”
With that, the calls were done, and Darlin’ took a deep breath.
Then Sam called their name. Darlin’ quickly walked back into the living room. Sam had sat the mug down on the coffee table and was resting on his hand.
“Hey, how are you feeling,” Darlin’ brushed the hair out of his face. They sat down next to him, still with a hand on his forehead.
“Stop. . checkin’. . . for a fev’r, Darlin’,” Sam said, leaning down to place his head on his mate’s shoulder.
“I don’t think you can tell me what to do. You’re the sick one, who can barely even sit up,” Darlin’ retorted. Sam grumbled but stayed flopped over onto his mate.
“M’head hurts,” Sam then said.
“I know, baby,” Darlin’ stroked his hair. “I know.”
Sam harshly inhaled. “M’sorry.”
Darlin’ frowned, “For what?”
“Bein’ sick. I’m supposed to be takin’ care of you.”
Darlin’ couldn’t help but smile. “You’re my mate. I take care of you when you need it. Just like you take care of me, whether I’m upset, or sick, or bleeding out, or even all at once. I'd do the same for you, because I love you.”
They wrapped their arms around Sam, gently rubbing circles on his back. They stayed like that, while Sam heavily breathed and sniffed a couple times. He mumbled a thank you at some point.
“I called Marie,” Darlin’ quietly said. “She’s gonna come over and check you out this afternoon.”
Sam tapped his fingers twice on Darlin’. Ok.
“You should sleep,” Darlin’ added. They patted his back and he moved to lay back down. Except he dragged Darlin’ down onto him as well. “Sam. You have to let me go.”
“No. . . lay with me,” Sam peeked an eye open. Darlin’ looked into his red eyes and noted the dark circles under them.
“Ok.” They laid their head back down and lifted their legs up to lay between Sam’s. “This alright?”
Sam hummed, “Yes.”
Really they should be working on lunch, or dinner. They didn’t really like cooking, but they knew that home made foods were good for fighting colds, and it also gave them incentive to eat, which pleased Sam. Yet they also hadn’t slept with him in awhile, preferring to take naps in the nearby arm chair and then getting up again to make sure he was okay before worrying about taking care of him again. It was nice to finally be in his arms.
"Y'take such good care of me," Sam mumbled. His grip barely tightened around Darlin'.
Between Sam’s sighs and breathing— no matter how harsh they sounded— and the lack of sleep they accumulated, Darlin’ closed their eyes, sleep eventually taking over them as they comfortably laid in their lover’s arms.
~~~~
As always, I have no ownership or rights to these characters, stories, or franchises. I write this to appreciate the content Redacted ASMR/audio makes. Anything I write is not official in their stories, other than using moments from the original story line. I make no profit from this.
Please don't steal.
#cyanbug fanfics#redacted audio#redacted asmr#redacted darlin#redacted tank#redacted sam#redacted asmr fanfics
51 notes
·
View notes
Text
Investments
(( DWC August 2024 Day 6, Corruption/Fulfillment, CW: None; @daily-writing-challenge ))
"Alright, here's your thirty healing potions, twelve mana potions, twenty anti-toxins, three invisibility potions, and the 12-phial variety pack, freshly mixed and guaranteed potent!" Bindle's smile gleamed in the morning sun peaking over Dalaran's walls as he handed the crate over to Dolraan.
"You're in an awfully chipper mood, considering that it looks like we're going into another war against the forces of evil, Bindle. Business is booming, I gather?" Dolraan asked, hefting the crate of valuable supplies.
"I suppose you could say that, but the potion making business isn't what has a smile in my face and a gleam in my gold fillings my dear man. I suppose it might even be fair to warn you that you might be needing a new supplier, as I am about to be a -very- rich goblin!" Bindle replied, pulling out his suspenders with his big green thumbs and rocking on his feet.
"Oh Bindle, please tell me you haven't gone all in on some cockamamie investment scheme again." Dolraan sighed. "Don't you remember the every other time you've tried to step away from what you're really very, very good at and tried to get rich quick?"
Bindle shook his head and tutted Dolraan. "Tsk tsk Sir Sa'naan, you are speaking to a goblin's goblin, and while I may have had a few stumbles here and there in the world of business, I know a sure thing when I see it!"
"Like that time you got the exclusive trading rights to Nethergarde Keep three days before the Iron Horde opened the portal and sacked it?"
"I was able to recoup a bit of investment by selling rubble pieces!"
"How about the time you blew your savings setting up that bootleg arcwine network right before the Arcan'dor bloomed and saved the Shaldorei from their addiction?"
"Hey, that still makes a hundred gold a year, it's not nothing!"
"The Silithus Tour Association?"
"How was I supposed to know that everyone would declare the area off-limits to tourists just because of a big sword?!"
"The 'Visit Lovely Teldrassil' tourist thing right before the War of the Thorns? The warehouse full of "I Heart My Banshee Warchief" merchandise? And let us not forget the attempt to sell anima to the living, when it loses potency as soon as it crosses the planar boundary!"
"I wanted to promote peace, the fact anima is so valuable there and so worthless here is stupid, and SHE SEEMED BULLET PROOF!" Bindle started to shout, exasperated.
"Bindle, you're a friend, so please understand this is coming from a friend, you are a -fantastic- alchemist and spellcaster, you can get rich doing that, but not if you keep spending your money like this, you have worse luck than Janosis for Light's sake!"
"I don't want to be alchemist rich, I want to be investor rich, it's different! You wouldn't understand, holy boy. We'll see who has the last laugh, because it's too late for you to get ahead of me on this one. Like you said, there's a war brewing, and Dalaran's gonna be in the middle of it! Predicting this, I have spent the last several years quietly acquiring real-estate in this glorious city! You are looking at the owner of twenty-two percent of the commercial and residential real estate in the magical city of Dalaran, and when the gold starts flowing in, plenty of it's coming my way, or my name isn't Bindle Glintgold!"
Dolraan closed his eyes for a moment, saying a prayer in his mind. "I hope for all our sakes you're right. I should get these potions where they need to be."
"And warn the council of yet another portent of doom to toss on the pile," he thought to himself, leaving Bindle to preen in the street about finally being in position to get what's coming to him.
#drogar writes#prompt#Dolraan#Bindle#Decided to actually write about my favorite running in-joke about my alts#It's not a new expansion if Bindle isn't crying because he is once again financially ruined
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dropping this I wrote about cor au then leaving again lmao!!!
7th August, 2018.
The day that life Grimsborough changed for everyone. However, for Louis Leroux, that day wasn't today. He never got to help out in the battle of Grimsborough since he had been hospitalised not long before due to his injuries from his second murder attempt in prison. To say it messed him up was probably an understatement. He was scarred from pretty much head to toe, was in a wheelchair again and sporting new prosthetic arms as they couldn't be reattached like his legs were. He was miserable, stuck in hospital alone with no one to talk to. He had hardly seen anyone he cared for since he went into prison weeks prior, not that he kept track of how long ago that was anyways. He had caught glimpses of his fellow Ad Astra members in prison, but never enough for it to be worthwhile. He thought he was going to die in that cell, and on this specific day he wished he did. He was given the go ahead to be free to move around in his wheelchair recently, so he decided to sit outside of his hospital room for a change of scene. Today was a bad day to choose. He never knew what was going on, and he was constantly seeing people he knew and cared for come in past him in hospital beds, surrounded by medical professionals. Rozetta, Julia, Jones, Rita... And worst of all for him, Joe. Panic immediately rose in him when he saw him pass by. He looked extremely pale, barely consious and had blast trauma all across the left side of his face. It was heartbreaking for Louis, seeing the love of his life on the verge of death. He tried to go after him, only to be stopped by staff and taken back to his own room. He was in tears, he cried as much as his injuries and energy would let him. He knew there was nothing he could do until they allowed visitors into Joe's room. All he could do was wait.
After a few hours, which felt more like a few days, he was able to go see him. He made his way over to the room as quick as he could, leaving no room for any hesitation. He set himself up next to Joe's bed, frowning when he saw him. He was asleep for a start, but his injuries looked so much worse up close. If it was possible for his heart to break even more than it already had, it happened in that exact moment. He swore he'd protect those he cared for, but now felt entirely useless as this entire time he was hooked up in bed with no idea as to what was happening. He was snapped out of his thought when he heard Joe speaking. "Mi amor..?" He sounded weak, exhausted and as if he wanted to just sleep for the rest of his life. "Hey... It's me. I'm here..." Joe smiled a little, turning his head to get a better view of his boyfriend. He seemed more concerned over his healed injuries compared to his fresh ones, it was obvious when he reached a hand out to cup his face. Louis instantly teared up as he leaned into the touch, he hadn't felt this in a long time and he missed it dearly. "I've missed you so much..." Joe said barely above a whisper, but it still got to Louis regardless. "Me too... It's been too long..." He smiled a little as he took Joe's hand in his own. It caused Joe to absentmindedly frown. It wasn't the same. The warmth and comfort from his hand was replaced with a feeling of cold metal. It upset him to think the previous time he held his boyfriends hand would be the very last. Louis picked up on this, and it caused him to frown too. He was framed, it wasn't his fault he was in there, yet all he could do was apologise. "No, it's okay... You can't help it. We'll get through it together. How's that sound?" "Yeah... That sounds good. It would be nice to have you help. Maybe it can help us get closer..." The Spaniard nodded in agreement, the smile returning on his face. "Once we get outta here, I'm gonna give you the best future I can give you. I promise." That was a promise he kept for the rest of his life, to give the love of his life the best future possible.
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
reminds me of working at culvers im gonna be fr. heres a story from hell for you.
management had a policy where we were not allowed to dry our dish towels in the on unit dryer for any reason because what if fires. the only thing we were allowed to dry were the aprons.
one night in late august ive just clocked in for my closing shift. im 16, a dual enrolled college student, i slept like actual dog shit the night before, and i know i have at least 10 hrs ahead of me so i am less than pleased.
the second i walk in, all hell has broken loose. the washing machine isnt draining. like at all. its full of filthy bleach water from the last load of dish towels and they are all SOPPING wet, but i am not allowed to put them in the dryer.
in a moment of OSHA violating split second ingenuity, a friend of mine and i manage to rig up drying lines in the back room in between the metal shelves with extension cords and start hanging dish towels on them.
it gets worse. just for the record.
we decide we simply wont wash more towels tonight and will start using paper towels when we run out of towels. we do not get this luxury.
you see, when you pile wet towels on top of each other for months on end and never take out the ones on the bottom to dry, they get... interesting. i say this to say that mushrooms had grown on the remaining dishtowels.
at this point i have only been here for two hours, i have been scooping filthy water out of the washing machine into a custard bucket with a kids size soda cup, and i have just found mushrooms. all over the towels. not food grade mushrooms. fungi. infestation. in. the. towels.
i start throwing away towels and once again enlist my friend who i will call N here to put the salvageable ones into the wash immediately, double the bleach. N is fucking amazing and does so but now i have even more towels i need to put out to dry and the others are very not dry yet because they came out of a drum of gross water.
N starts rolling out the carts we use to transport large food trays around the kitchens and we start hanging towels off the edges of THOSE. im a front of house member but at this point someone has taken over my register because im the only one with a strong enough stomach to grapple with shroommaggedon.
i hand wash several to get remaining slimy shroomy bits off them, and then hand the final batch off to N for washing.
the back room is a fucking wreck. the floors are sopping and the water is all pooling towards the drains on the ground, a trash bag has managed to burst because of the sheer weight of sopping wet towels being thrown in, and now in the midst of all of this i am told someone needs to clock out early because they are sick.
great.
i am soaked in water so i just put on the least dirty apron i can find in the back and come out to help front of house once again. i enlist another friend, D, who is on friers to fill up the garbage can that has suffered explosive raw meat damage to fill it with soapy water and tell him i will handle it from there. the second its full i manage to wrangle it outside to the giant grate out back and dump it out over it.
the ice machine has now stopped working. it is 9 PM. we have 2 hours until we close. D and i start shoveling out the ice machine so our manager can get into it to try and fix it and now we are dumping trash cans of ice down the grate out back. D is a full foot taller than me and decides to fill the entire back of house trash trolley with ice so we can get it all out in one go. we manage that around 10, and now drivethru is the only thing left open.
the final hour goes... surprisingly smooth, considering the day thus far, and i only get fish batter in my hair in the last 30 minutes as im doing dishes for closing.
and THAT was my worst day working at culvers.
being a manager sucks balls half the time but the cashier kids im in charge of trust me enough to dick around in front of me so ive been keeping a running list of the shit they say that makes me laugh randomly: -"guys, is it cheating if you play fortnite with your ex" [4 seperate others, immediately]: "YES" -"there must be like… infinite sentences" -"bro what bro what the fuck bro what's that mean bro why'd you say that bro what" <distraught response to a girl randomly greeting him with 'hey there big boy' in an old timey transatlantic news reporter accent
68K notes
·
View notes
Text
SUNDAY, JUNE 30, 1996 What a gorgeous night it is out there now. There’s a full moon out and the moonlight is so beautiful. Everything’s lit up in such a way that makes it so peaceful and comforting. I can see any creatures that might be out there to avoid them. The moonlight is so bright that half the pool is lit up to where I can see straight through to the bottom and the moonlight rippling on the water was almost hypnotic. I contemplated going skinny-dipping but decided not to. I have so much to catch up on here.
Today was very hot and humid. It’s to be more humid tomorrow, too, and the monsoon season is officially here early, says Tom. We have the AC going now for the first time this year and we may need it for at least a few days. The humidity in here was 70% at noon when I got up and when the EC was still on.
I’ve finally found a more enjoyable way to work out. Well, rather than doing it to Denise’s video where she blabs away and plays that pitiful music, and rather than doing it to TV where I lose count, I’ve been throwing on my headphones and exercising to my music. I hope I can stick to this.
The other day at Mom and Dad’s, Ma said she’d bake chicken wings by dipping them in buttermilk first, then seasoning them. I had Tom get some buttermilk and I dipped some wings in it, then seasoned it with garlic salt. It was pretty good, but I liked them fried the best, even if it’s not too healthy.
Dad looked awful the other day and is steadily getting worse.
Tom and I were curious about when some things were done, so I looked them up by using the search mode and going through my computer version journals. A certain set of pictures we just got developed was shot last August 31st, so I guess that’s the last time our pictures were taken and we definitely have to take current ones soon. My last hair trim was last October 31st, and I thought October was when I began feeding the birds, but apparently not. It was last July.
SATURDAY, JUNE 29, 1996 Tom turned 39 yesterday.
I absolutely don’t believe it. No one’s home at all next door. However, it’s still early, so we’ll just have to wait and see as the weekend’s still young. Robin might be connected to this, but I’ll get into it later.
I’m gonna go listen to music for a little while and maybe sing, and then I’ll definitely touch base with what’s going on.
Later…
There are lots of birds out there now. Nearly 40. I’ve got to cut the population in half, but I hope that doesn’t mean losing some of my favorite ones.
Anyway, Andy hasn’t gotten me yet to work on the cat. He overslept the other day, but I told him not to worry about it and that we’d get to it eventually.
Tom only had to work half a day yesterday. He got off work yesterday at around noon and today he’s working half a day too. He left at 11:00 and will be home at 4:30 and then we’re gonna go see his folks.
Tom’s birthday was pretty good, and I hope mine will be, too. I hope any day is better for me than my last birthday.
When he came home yesterday I put a long skinny candle in a snack cake for him after making him his favorite - hotdogs.
Then we went to the mall and developed pictures which we’ll show his folks today. Some came out OK and some came out blurry. Especially the ones that were close up. I didn’t know you couldn’t shoot close up and I guess that that means that when we get the last roll back in the mail that we sent away to have developed, the shots of the birds on my arms that I took will be blurry. I guess I’ll have to have Tom shoot them on my arms and lap. The pictures we got of us were shot about 10 months ago, so we’ve got to take current ones since Tom’s thinner and my hair’s longer. The bird pictures that were included were from before they were brave enough to come near the patio, let alone on me. They’re from when they ate on the blocks in the back of the yard and a few of them show them getting drinks from the pool. There were also wall art pictures and stuff like that.
I’ll be sending Tammy and my parents some pictures and I’m gonna have more copies made to send to them as well as to Larry. Also, I want to send a couple to Anna & Harry. Believe it or not, there’s one picture in there where my face looks OK, but my hair and body actually look pretty good. Also, there are a few stupid pictures that I don’t know why I took, but I put them in the inner covers of this journal. There’s one of the display of that big stuffed animal, journals, and other stuff that we set up on the kitchen table to film and print out posters with. That’s when we were in business and were doing that PrintBIG program. One is of my bead collection and the other is of my journals on their shelves, but this was when I had only 97 of them.
Later…
Got a Bob letter. Nothing new.
Yesterday we browsed around in the mall where we got the pictures and I saw a really cool journal with fruit patterns on its pages and quotes and sayings, too. I’ve got my heart and mind set on getting it someday. Meanwhile, I still have about 244 pages worth left in my current one and one other one. We didn’t end up getting anything else other than the pictures and ice cream.
The Humane Society sent me 5 animal cards. Dogs and cats. I sent them to my parents, Larry, Tammy, Kim and Bob. I also sent Tammy that $35 towards Ma’s ring in the fancy floral envelope. I’m making one like it up for my parents, then I’ll do one for Larry and maybe Anna & Harry too.
Well, I think that’s the basics of all that’s been happening.
Just one more thing, before I get into Robin and other stuff. My parents called me when Tom was at his folks' place and they got my letter in which I addressed my feelings. They said they understood and that it was a nice letter and they explained to me why it’s not easy for them to come out here and they say they might come out one at a time. Sounds good.
Then they called back later when Tom was home to wish him a happy birthday.
Yesterday we screwed earlier. At around 4 PM, so not to my surprise, he never went up top. Probably felt it was too risky since he was more awake (not that it’s my time to ovulate if I really do and am fertile). As we were about to screw, though, I thought I sensed Robin for a second saying, “This is it,” but I didn’t think anything of it.
Bullshit or not, I don’t know, but Tom claims to have had a missed orgasm. I guess that’s where you cum and there’s no doubt about it as always, but it’s really slight. You know you came, but you feel like you barely did. So he said, “I don’t know if our definition of a missed orgasm is the same and I don’t want to get in trouble here or have you think I’m lying or playing with your head, but that’s what it felt like to me. My heart was beating normally, then it went really fast and I felt like I had a total release go through my whole body.”
Do I think he’s telling the truth? I don’t know. He may be and he swears he is and swears that he still really did cum in the winter of ‘93. Well, females have missed orgasms where they barely cum and they don’t get too wet down there afterward, so I guess it’s possible that males can experience the same thing. Just like in the winter of ‘93, I felt no more juice than usual. I just hope he isn’t gonna end up lying and insisting that he cums every few times, but that he just doesn’t squirt anything. Overall orgasms in males have to squirt something out, so if he starts claiming regular and normal orgasms, I’ll be very suspicious and very doubtful.
Then it was bedtime and as I was lying there, I was worried about next door and what antics they could create throughout the weekend when Robin popped in on me. When she did, there was no anger or fear on my part. I just figured, oh well. She may have lied to me and fucked with our electrical stuff, but that’s about the extent of it. She hasn’t done anything worse than anything else that I’ve received from other sources, be it Tom, or whatever. I just lay there still and numb as she began to tell me, this is it. The new phase. Tom’s about to start cumming and it’ll be regularly enough. We will have that baby and I won’t have a miscarriage and I probably won’t need a C-section. She also said not to worry about next door this weekend and that Tom wasn’t kidding about his missed orgasm.
Well, I don’t know about any of the stuff except for the fact that so far she’s been right about next door. She also told me it’s OK to doubt her or feel certain negative feelings towards her cuz as far as she’s concerned, I’ll believe in her once things she says will happen do happen. Also, Robin said it’d be best if I put a gag order on myself and didn’t tell anyone what she told me till after the fact. She said that if I told people, it could subconsciously pull them against her words, but not intentionally.
THURSDAY, JUNE 27, 1996 Andy may be picking me up today, but I don’t know yet.
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 26, 1996 Not much is going on at the moment. I’m just doing this awesome floral design on my sister’s envelope. I’ll also do one for Larry and my parents. In one of my journal covers too, perhaps. Or in my sketchbook.
I’m waiting to see if Andy calls, about picking me up to work on the cat.
Tom said I misunderstood him when he was talking about evolving, but he didn’t clarify or explain himself. Maybe he will on our mailbox thing we’ve been using on the computer where we leave messages to each other.
I asked him what we should do about the appointment and he said to wait till we get closer to it, and then we’ll try to reach an agreement.
We’ll never reach an agreement. Not as long as I’m the only one wanting a kid and not as long as he’s the only one saying nothing is broke.
How do you agree with a guy who always insists he’s gonna cum, but never does?
I’m not gonna design inner covers that are colored, like this one’s colored in a deep purple, or covers with patterns or designs. Only white covers that I don’t have too much stuff on like cat photos and stuff like that.
Well, Ma gave me a really good book to read, so I’m gonna go read some more and take a break from all this drawing I’m been doing.
Also, Tom really loves all his envelopes.
TUESDAY, JUNE 25, 1996 I finally got an email from Tammy this morning. It’s about time she was online. As usual, though, she didn’t answer half my questions and she didn’t tell me how many messages there were from me. I hope they all got to her. She says to send $35 towards Ma’s ring whenever we can.
Got a letter from Bob the other day who says my letters are weird and he still cannot comprehend them.
Gee! I wonder why?
They have a new classified section on AOL. I saw people leaving ads for artwork they wanted as well as for artwork they wanted to do. I’d like to leave a few messages of my own. Meanwhile, I’m sure Tom will enjoy checking it out to see if he can find a job for him that hopefully is with computers. I intend to find a job somehow and somewhere. I made it clear to Tom that my days of sitting around while he makes false promises to me are over. I’m gonna get a real life and stop dwelling on dreams that died or dreams that could never come alive and true.
I made it clear to him how mad I was over the fact that he sometimes helps others before me and how he always seems to keep his word to others, but not always to his wife. Especially with things that really matter to me. I told him I thought it was rather sad that he’d jump to help me if there was something physically wrong with me, but no, we can’t go to a doctor to get our sex lives straightened out and to see about what to do about having a kid. Instead, I have to sit and suffer on and off while he tells me nothing’s broken.
He explained something to me about the missionary position. It made sense, but at the same time, I don’t buy it. It’s just another excuse as far as I’m concerned. He said that we have to get used to a missionary position and adapt to it. He says he’s still paranoid about putting too much weight on me and he needs time to get comfortable with this position. He’s been comfortable with other positions and he should be comfortable enough with this one to get off. It’s just one excuse after another with him. He’d just rather fix other people’s cars and computers and see me go through what I’ve been going through and take care of my health rather than get me pregnant. It’s just easier for some people to bullshit people than face and tell the truth.
I was thinking of doing an art project for me. Doing art for others is great and I love doing that, but I thought it was time I did something for me. So I took the last handful of journals and checked their inner covers. If there’s room enough, I may do drawings on them.
Now I must go get cracking on the rest of his envelopes.
Later…
I finished the envelopes. Nice to have that out of the way, even though I enjoyed it. I don’t enjoy how sore my back gets after a while, though.
Andy left a message saying tonight’s a good night for him to pick me up after work to work on the cat, but I’ll be on my way to bed at that time. Since he has the next two days off, though, I’ll hopefully be able to get over there after he gets up to work on it then.
Later…
I just remembered something. I asked Tom the other day how he’d feel if I were pregnant. Now, I don’t buy this, but he said, happy, excited, and anxious, and that he’d be looking forward to it. Then remember how I said I asked him how he’d feel if it were me who never came? Well, if he can’t answer pretend questions and questions about situations he’s never been in before, then how come he could tell me how he’d feel if I were pregnant? He had no problem many months ago telling me he’d be fine with it if I didn’t cum.
I just don’t know how I’m ever gonna be able to turn this anger I have towards him and the depression I still have here and there about not having a kid into something positive. Just when I think I’m over it and am moving on, I’m stuck in the same old shit as far as my emotions go. I try to tell myself not to be angry at him, cuz God would never allow me a child anyway. And cuz of all the good he has in him and cuz of all the horrible things that come out of having a kid. I’ll do anything to forget about having a baby. Anything to get him to stop teasing me and lying to me about it. Anything to kick this issue out of my life, for once and for all.
Why does God hate me so much? Why does he want me to have all this time on my hands? Why does he not want a purpose and a destiny for me? I can’t have a career, I can’t be a mother, I can’t be anything? I’ve tried for these things and I just don’t know why God won’t help me. If he won’t help me achieve these things, why won’t he help me forget about a kid and help me settle for something else? Guess I am settling, though, since I’ll never be able to do the things I really want to do. I just don’t understand why God wants to punish me so much. How many more years am I gonna have to feel the way I do?
MONDAY, JUNE 24, 1996 I heard just what I needed to hear on TV just now. A judge in Florida gave a man who murdered his former wife custody of the kid he had with his second wife, even though he was a murderer, and not to his wife cuz she was a lesbian. So, in other words, you can have your kid if you kill, but not if you sleep with the same sex. Gays and lesbians are of no more harm to their kids than straights are. Not as long as you keep bedroom stuff in the bedroom and don’t do anything more than kiss or hold hands, whether you’re gay or straight. That judge should’ve been fired, the murderer should’ve been executed and the lesbian should have her kid. And what makes the case sicker is knowing that God helped see to it that this murderer got the kid and that the lesbian didn’t.
Yesterday I really blew up at Tom following the fact that he spent nearly 6 hours at Eldon’s and we didn’t even get the monitor he said he’d let us use. Then he spent 4 or 5 more hours on the phone with Wendy answering her computer questions. By the time he wanted us to “get close,” I was beat and had to go to bed.
He said he was sorry we didn’t get time together, but I told him, “Hey. You chose Eldon and Wendy over me.” Then I lost it. For once, though, he really seemed sympathetic and understanding and sorry, rather than irritated and he didn’t turn it on me. Still, even though I lost it and had to get it out, nothing’s ever gonna change. He’s got his priorities and goals made up in his mind. I told him, though, I’m tired of coming last. If someone wants something from him, no problem. Meanwhile, he won’t give the child to his wife that he promised we could have. I’m just so sick of other people’s needs coming first and the TV and the computer coming first. He keeps his word to his fucking friends and family, but not to his own fucking wife. Well, doing for others is great and I don’t want him to stop that, I just want him to put me first and to put his actions where his mouth is and follow through on the promises he makes to me. Other people’s needs come right away, but I was told I had to wait to see a doctor with him back when I wanted to go and I had to suffer in the meantime. He’s lucky I love him as much as I do. Most other women would’ve said, “Fine, you can do for others, but I have needs too, and I need to go to a doctor and get our sex lives straightened out if possible and I need us to do what we can to get help having this kid we said we wanted. Our needs should be first. I shouldn’t have to sit and suffer and worry about it while you falsely promise me you’ll be cumming soon and that I’ll be pregnant soon and that nothing’s broken between us.”
Then he said “I’m sorry. You were neglected today and I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re so angry and I’m trying the best I can to get you pregnant. I want a kid more than you know, but I can’t get you pregnant tonight.”
No, he couldn’t have gotten get me pregnant last night, but he’s had a couple of years in which he could’ve if we’re both physically okay and he hasn’t. Why can’t he just either admit he never wanted a kid or get help a long time ago?
I told him I just can’t trust him with a lot of things. Not all things, but a lot of things. If you can lie about a kid, you can lie about anything. I’m sick of the fact that it seems that the only way I can get attention is if I’m having a crisis or if I literally cry out to him. I wish I could come first and in between his parents, Wendy, Eldon, the TV, the computer, and not last.
I told him I know I’m not perfect and I was sorry if I sounded selfish and spoiled, but this is how I honestly feel and I just had to tell him, even though it’d never do a damn bit of good.
I really should spend more time being busy or with Andy and break my words and promises to him so he can see what it’s like, but I just can’t do that without feeling guilty. Not if I can help it, anyway. I did so, though, this morning, but not intentionally. He told me last night he wanted sex this morning, but I overslept. Do I feel guilty? No. Did he seem bummed about it? No. He says he’s psyched at the idea of seeing me tonight, though.
Yes, Tom is a very busy person, but he needs to balance things better. If he spent less time on the phone or at other people’s houses or with the TV and the computer, then maybe we could do more together. And he wouldn’t have to cut out other stuff that much to make sufficient time for us, either.
Another thing I’m so fucking sick and tired of is his goddamn contradictions. A long time ago I had asked him how he’d feel if it were me that never came and he said he wouldn’t feel bad at all and he’d just see it as how I was and let me be me. I asked him again the other night and he said he didn’t know how he’d feel cuz he can’t imagine how he’d feel in a pretend situation. Now, this isn’t someone’s feelings or opinions changing with time. This is a contradiction.
We do have some good times where we laugh, joke, tease each other, and just have fun, but it just doesn’t seem like enough times, though. The times we spend together seem so rare and so short.
Now I really get how frustrated Brenda and Kacey were with me since I had a lower appetite than they had.
Yesterday wasn’t made any better by the fact that I accidentally dropped one of my doggie mugs. I figured there’d be a casualty sooner or later, but at least it was the Cocker Spaniel which is my least favorite. So now I only have 5 left and hopefully, I can get a Husky or a German Shepherd soon enough.
Tom “says” that he wants to get the 3 rolls of film we’ve got shot up developed with his birthday money, but we’ll see. That’d be nice since they’ve been ready for development for quite a while. We just didn’t have the money for that these last several months. I can’t wait to check out the bird pictures, as well as other stuff. I took a few new pictures of them with a new roll I just loaded in. I got some of them on my hands and arms and one of them at the edge of the pool while I was in it.
AOL has a classified section now, which we’re both gonna check out.
I’m still contemplating getting a hysterectomy, so as not to have to deal with periods and Tom’s teasing me about having a kid. If I were smart, I’d have gotten one done long ago since a kid really isn’t destined with or without Tom. Reminding myself of that helps ease some of the anger I have toward Tom. It’s just the principle of the point. You don’t lie to someone and play with their heads about something that you know means a lot to them.
Not a peep out of next door all weekend. The only time they were heard was in the music room, said Tom, when they were barbecuing. Then they went in and ate and shut up. There were two Blazers there yesterday, but when I got up at 6:00 this morning there wasn’t one vehicle there.
I dread next weekend, cuz if there is a pattern, this will be the weekend they’ll freak out. Every 3 weekends, they’ll probably go wild. Tom said we’ll be busy together, though. We’ll see about that. But busy or not, I don’t want to hear their shit.
Tom explained to me more about what he has in mind to do with the envelopes I’m making up for him (I have 5 left!). He says he wants to open them up from where they’re glued and spread them out into a sheet of paper. Then he wants to film them on the computer with the camcorder. Then he wants to print them out and fold them into envelopes. That way we can make copies of however many we want of certain drawings to use to make envelopes out of. That ought to be neat and if works out really well, I’ll probably do more drawings for envelopes. Also, we still have to back up my directory and scan in my newer drawings. Yesterday I did an envelope that he and I both were quite impressed with. I drew frames and did different flower scenes in them. Yes, flowers are certainly my best. Wish it were people, though.
Later…
I just got done giving Tom a hard-on. It’s his favorite time for that anyway, and then he went to bed. Right now I’m sure he’s finishing the job.
He came home in a great mood. Maybe he feels guilty. He said that be it sexually or not, he’ll not evolve if he doesn’t want to and then he sometimes will when he doesn’t want to. Oh, so I guess that was an admission of the fact that he hasn’t wanted to evolve. I reminded him that he’s him and I’m me and that’s not gonna change. We’ll see, he said. We already have seen. At least I have, anyway.
Earlier, we played cards and he helped me go through the steps of backing up my directory. He also deleted a word I accidentally added to the dictionary.
I’m getting kind of tired now, so I think I’m gonna try to go to bed now. If not, maybe I’ll write more later, or read or do something.
SUNDAY, JUNE 23, 1996 Yesterday we went over to see his parents. Mary was there, too. Tom mowed and I vacuumed and Ma gave Tom $20 and me $10. With it, I got 3 new pairs of underwear. Mary gave Tom $85 for working on her car.
FRIDAY, JUNE 21, 1996 I now only have about 11 envelopes left, so that’s good. I’m really pushing it and straining to think of new ideas to meet the deadline.
Still quiet next door. What did I do to get so blessed and lucky? Anyway, it looks like the guy traded in his red sports car for a Blazer and that she doesn’t have a car now. Tom saw that old guy bring her home yesterday. Out of the total of about 8 cars that I’ve seen there, I’ve only seen 1 lately. I just hope they don’t make up for their peacefulness with a weekend party.
I asked Tom if he found out a secret about my family and he said no. He also said that when I knew what the secret was, it’d make me happy. I know he likes to play the instill-patience-in-Jodi game, but I really think he is full of shit and that there is no secret. I’m getting more sure of that.
We have things we tease each other with and one of the things he says to me in a teasing way is how he gives into everything I want. I don’t think that’s very funny and I also think it’s rather insensitive. I gave up the idea of trying to see if I had a shot at having a kid with him for him. Action-wise, he said no to a kid, yet I’m still here and that’s a big thing to get your way with, which he did, even though I may not want a kid as much these days.
Speaking of the subject, I saw a true documentary about a guy who killed three 8-year-old boys, then had a son himself, upon going to trial and getting convicted. Once again, how can anyone say God doesn’t make mistakes? The bulk of this world’s parents are animals. What did God say to this monster? He must’ve said, “Good for you! You killed 3 little boys, so now here’s a little boy of your own.”
Sick. Really sick.
From now on, I’m not gonna mention when I get my periods to Tom cuz I want to how much of it is God or Tom that makes sure we don’t have sex 14 days after my period. I think it’s both, but why? It’s just so ridiculous and such a waste of time for God or Tom to count the days when there’s no danger of my becoming pregnant. If Tom really wanted to know, though, he could just keep track of my female supplies and he’d also see pad and tampon wrappers in the bathroom pail.
Well, I think that’s it for now. I don’t think I’ve forgotten to mention anything else as nothing else has really been going on, but what else is new?
His parents are still pretty much the same, but I guess that’s better than if they were doing worse.
One of my birds is in the window watching me type. Yes, I’m typing some of this stuff up first, then I’ll copy it into my paper journal. The only time I usually type is if I have lots of stuff to tell about, so who knows why I chose to type this time. Getting used to it, I guess.
I’ve been kind of tired on and off all day today which is a mystery. I slept long enough. At least I think I did. So, I think I’m gonna go veg out, be lazy and just relax till I crash. I’ve been up for about 12 hours, anyhow.
THURSDAY, JUNE 20, 1996 I just did tons of cleaning around here and now all I have left to do is vacuum the bedrooms and the bathroom. Of course, I have to use the hose until we get a new brush for the upright. The kitchen floor could still use a good mopping but the counter and appliances are clean and every room has been dusted. The living room, kitchen, and back room have been vacuumed.
They’ve been so amazingly quiet next door. I heard someone leave at 10:40 AM, as usual, but they played no music whatsoever.
Andy left a message saying we can have his shower curtain which is pretty. I hope it doesn’t blow all around as some do, cuz ours is old, ugly, and falling apart. I really wish we had shower doors.
Well, I gotta get working on Tom’s envelopes.
Yesterday I finished the book Ma let me borrow which was good.
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 19, 1996 After I mention a couple of things, I think I’ll be all caught up and will have mentioned the basics.
The only other report I can give is that Tom’s dad isn’t doing too well, as expected and his mom’s arthritis and diabetes are no joy ride either.
Steven is in town, so that’s nice.
I saw a show called Paranormal Borderline and in one segment, there were those doom profits talking. I hope they’re quacks, cuz they’ve already been known to have made deadly accurate predictions.
The segment that really got me was one where a 15-year-old boy was in an accident with his mother. They were in a car when a small plane crashed into the car. The mother pushed him down on the floor of the car. He lived and she died. Years later he married, had kids, and became an alcoholic and a druggie. Regardless of God’s ways of helping to create parents like that, it was mainly due to his feeling guilty and sad about his mother. So he and his wife went to this guy who claimed to be able to contact the dead. He brought her there so he could tell the guy that his mother didn’t blame him for the accident and that she loved him and all that stuff. Supposedly he also told them stuff about them that he couldn’t have known. The thing that got me was how he was saying spirits can and do interfere with electrical stuff like TVs, phones, radios, and more. This is what I’ve been trying to tell Tom, but he feels that spirits can’t influence the physical world, but that they might be able to influence a person’s personal being.
I can’t wait to show him this show and see what he thinks.
The other thing is that we had great sex earlier. Tom said we’re progressing really fast. True. It does seem that way, but will it last long? And where will we progress to? Will he still ever get off at least every few times and have me really feeling like a “whole and fulfilling and fulfilled woman?”
Do I still believe he’s scared or has something wrong with him? Yeah, I’d say one of these is the case and that the first one’s the most likely, but he did have me wondering for a minute there. I guess the best thing I can do, which I’m learning to do, is just believe what I believe and deal with it and then maybe, just maybe, as much as I doubt it, he’ll prove me wrong at least once.
Now I really understand why Brenda and Kasey were the way they were. Always horny. It feels so good to be at my peak, though, and to have blossomed so much sexually and to have him in the mood more often. Sometimes I still don’t get sex enough, but at least I don’t feel that constant feeling of being sexually starved and deprived.
What I was able to do was go on top of him. I could before, a few times, but it didn’t really work out. The angle was off and I just couldn’t always get him in there and keep him in there. After he got me off in our sideways position, though, it was a piece of cake due to my being opened up and lubricated really well. It felt so good to my clit too. Especially since my pussy’s just about bald, so I could feel it really well. If I were really horny, I could probably get off that way. Tom really loved it and said I made his night and I only hope he didn’t finish what I started when he went to bed.
Yes, spontaneity is just as great as thought-out plans and it’s great that we have so much more variety. In the past, it was usually just his going down on me and our sideways position that we had to choose from. It’s great that he’s been patient enough with me to teach me angles, speed, etc. It eases that abnormal feeling of mine.
If he came every few times or so, that’d still be fine with me, cuz I know a good build-up is always almost as good as a good orgasm.
Women will always be more attractive to me from an overall, clothed point of view, but now, I can’t imagine ever living without Tom’s dick as part of my sex life, any more than I can imagine living without him. I really, really do love this man and realize just how blessed I am. I also know that I’ve sounded really hard on him, and whether or not I have just cause to be with a few issues, I know I want to be with him forever and I know that throwing him away over a few bad things would be stupid when there are a million wonderful things about him. I’d never find another person like him in another guy or woman. I’d rather be alone, or better yet die than be without him. Yes, if he ever comes out and tells me he never wanted a kid or still never came, whether I knew why for sure or not, I’ll still be here.
I asked him if that was the secret (my going on top). I thought that maybe he just knew somehow, that it was time now and that the time was right when I was ready to be able to do this, but he said no, that’s not the secret.
Would I feel like there was nothing left to strive for if he did cum? No, cuz we’ve developed enough sexually to have the fun last us a lifetime and still be exciting and now there’s more variety for us to choose from instead of just oral or sideways and we can always still experiment and try new stuff.
I’m on my 6th envelope for Tom, so hopefully I can get cracking on those and have all 20 of them done by his birthday.
TUESDAY, JUNE 18, 1996 I’ve got 4 of Tom’s envelopes done and I’ve got 15 more to go. I’ve got 5 done actually.
No, I haven’t gotten any more clues about this little secret of Tom’s. I’m pretty sure it’s a surprise trip.
Tom showed me another way to turn the pool light on, so I swam earlier.
When I got up today I was hotter than hell, so I went out for a quick dip in the pool. Meanwhile, the birds were pretty frantic and desperate for food. They’re so impatient now. They dive on top of their food bucket before I can reach it and peck impatiently at my hand. I wave firmly at them to try to shoo them away, but that doesn’t work and of course, I don’t want to swat them. Then they follow me to the edge of the pool as I dive in.
I do have more to write about, but first, I want to see if I can request that song of Linda’s.
Later…
Why the fuck does the words I’ve added to the computer dictionary keep disappearing? If Tom isn’t playing games with me then what is? I didn’t mean to add Gloria’s name with a small g and now I can’t figure out how to get into the dictionary to delete it.
I evicted Tom from my directory. My directory’s getting quite big, so I asked Tom if I could kick him out and he showed me how to.
This is weird, but K-LITE says they don’t do requests. Since when does a radio station not do requests?
Here’s another weird thing. Next door’s been gone all day. They haven’t been there since at least 4 PM till now. I never heard them come home last night and I always know when they come home. Fine, though.
Yesterday I asked Tom if the secret was a one-shot deal that only happens once, when and if it does, or if it’s an on-and-off thing, or if it’s for always. He said he doesn’t know. I still hope to hell this has nothing to do with cumming or a kid which isn’t gonna happen. He did say, though, that he found out about this secret, so it can’t be sex or kid-related. I think he found out about something pertaining to a trip. I had asked him if a secret, in his book, meant that he was told something or heard something or if it was an instinct thing, or if it was a thought-out plan of his that he intended to carry out. That’s when he said it was something he found out.
Next, I should ask him what my reaction to the secret will be, in his opinion, but then again, what’s the point? He’ll tell me whatever it’s all about soon enough unless he’s bullshitting me.
Now I’m gonna go make some pork chops since it’s cooler to cook at this hour, and then watch the tube.
SUNDAY, JUNE 16, 1996 Wow! Been married for two years as of yesterday.
Yesterday and today sure have been busy days. I got up yesterday at around 1 PM and Tom was already at his parents’. When I first got up, I headed for my coffee and cigarettes, like I usually do. Then I got a bad feeling about next door. I asked myself, why do you have a bad feeling about them now? It’s early on a weekday.
Then, sure enough, I heard and saw a black girl, about 10 years old, playing ball. Only for 10 minutes, but what did they do? Call their friends and tell them to come over all the time just to piss me off cuz they’re like most people are and that’s opposite doers? If I’d written them a note asking them to be even wilder, they’d be quiet as all hell, I’d bet.
We were out for 6 hours, but I’m sure it was crazier than hell around here while we were gone. If not, it was only cuz God knew I wouldn’t be here. We took off to his parents’ house at around 2 PM yesterday and we returned shortly before 9 PM.
They were obviously watching the game, and at the end of it, one of the freeloaders went out back and screamed something for a couple of minutes, then I heard visitors leave at 10 PM. It seems like there are at least 5 kids and 5 other adults that they’ve got coming around regularly.
Let me back up now to the events at his folk’s house. We cleared all the stuff out of the sewing room and that’s where they came and set up a hospital bed for Dad. While we were waiting for the bed, I browsed through some of Ma’s paperbacks and found one to read that I’m borrowing.
The fucking freeloaders came blasting in just now. Can’t they ever drive in without anyone knowing it? What selfish, rude, ignorant, and obnoxious assholes! Totally desperate for attention.
Anyway, Dad came home with Mom and Mary as the guy was setting up the bed. Then the respiratory therapist came and set up his oxygen. He was tired and in some pain, but very happy to be home.
Mary went and got us stuff to eat and Dad’s prescriptions and then Ma showed me a pretty funny letter from her niece in Michigan. She said every paragraph was “HA!” Sure enough, all throughout the letter, I counted 16 HAs. It was weird.
Later…
I decided that Tom should have some of that money we agreed on me having to get him something he wants for our anniversary and his birthday, cuz that was only fair since I don’t have the means to surprise him with a gift. So, he’s probably gonna get underwear and he also says he’d really like the envelopes I’m drawing up for him. The envelopes are no surprise to him, but that’s what he really wants and that’s what matters.
Last night I was really worried that I’d end up sleeping all day today, but Robin came and said don’t worry about my schedule, don’t worry about next door for the weekend, they’ll still hardly ever be noticeable and I’ll still be pregnant soon. So far, she’s been right. Except for that bassy entrance, we haven’t heard a peep out of them all day. There aren’t even any lights on over there now, which is surprising.
I got up at 2 PM today, and then we went to the art store where I got an absolutely gorgeous journal, which will be my next, and those 3 pens I’ve wanted.
Then we got Chinese food for me and he got Arby’s. We came home, ate, and went swimming. There sure were more duties on that patio than I’ve ever seen before! Measles did something new. I was reaching a handful of seeds out to her and she jumped onto my hand and ate the seeds.
Tom told me that he doesn’t believe in praying for things we want. He believes in praying for things we need. That’s an interesting belief, whether God will or won’t answer prayers for stuff we need.
I told him today that I figured out his secret. I figured that he was gonna tell me that he really has been waiting all along to cum till we’re in a new house. I told him he dropped hints, cuz when he was talking about what he’d do with a 7-bedroom house, he said one would be for the nursery. Not the kid. Then he nodded when I said something to the effect of how he just says I’ll be pregnant by September to cheer me up and cuz it’s what I’d want to hear. Then he said he didn’t know if we’d have a kid in this house or the next, before saying I’d be pregnant by September.
Then I started to get pretty pissed when he said he wasn’t gonna tell me the secret cuz of how pushy I was about it. If he’s got a secret, it’s my right to know, and I hate how this guy plays with my head! So, I told him he could play with my head about the kid, I’m used to it and I know it makes him happy, but not with anything else. So then he said that it’s no secret cuz he knows it’s gonna happen, it’s 1 precise thing, I’ll know it when it happens and that it’ll happen for sure, no ifs, ands or buts, anytime from now till my 31st birthday.
Oh, don’t tell me this about the kid! We’ve been down this road before where he’s said during a certain timeframe, he was 100% sure I’d be pregnant and it was all bullshit. Why must he do this same old shit over and over? Isn’t it old? Doesn’t he ever get sick of it? Jesus!
He said it has nothing to do with either of our families, it’s not at all job-related and it’s one thing. If he isn’t playing a game, then I’d say it has to do with a trip we’re gonna go on. I don’t see how in hell it could have to do with moving. I know it can’t have to do with a kid and if it does in his mind, it’s bullshit. Maybe he lied to throw me off when he said it wasn’t family-related and someone was coming out to see us.
I was wondering if he was gonna tell me he read all my journals, but that was a long shot. Meaning, that’s something I can’t picture him telling me, even if he has read them.
I’ll bet he’s gonna insist he’s cum when he hasn’t and say that that was the secret. That could be it, but he knows that won’t work on me. I won’t fall for that, but if he really wants to insist on something that’s full of shit, he will. That would be his perfect way out of the doctor’s appointment, not that I care to go. Doesn’t he realize, though, that if he did that I may say, “Well, why don’t I go to a doctor, get checked out, and see if there’s anything wrong with me?”
If I were dumb enough to fall for it of course. Then he might be thinking, oh, no. They’re gonna maybe tell her she’s OK, want to examine me, see that I’m fine and then she’ll really know the truth. Not that I wouldn’t anyway, like with that fake orgasm in ‘93.
Still, today was a great second anniversary for us.
Later…
After we swam in the company of the birds, we played around. I got him going by hand, then he went in me in our sideways position, then he got up top, ran out of gas 3 or 4 minutes later, then finished me up by going down on me. Of course, missionary position wouldn’t help him, like he said it would and so many other things would, but his running out of gas isn’t just cuz of fear. He’s like me, understandably, in the way that he’s not motivated to work out and stick to it. I may be more fit than he is, but like me, he hasn’t been able to stick to any exercise program yet. I don’t think he’d ever want to or do so if he could. I think he’d rather stay the way he is than get more fit and be able to go in missionary position longer and end up losing it.
Anyway, I saw a really good movie just now. A predictable one, but it’s a kind I’ve always liked. The guy loves the woman, kills her friends, then moves in on her. Then she finds out what he’s really about and they battle it out till she wins and kills him.
At the art store, we saw a book-making kit. One was for $20 and you could make 2 or 3 books. One had brown paper to use for a cover, then a boring fabric, and I think it also had some other kind of paper. It looked pretty neat, though, with the paper bound and stitched with no cover. It was 160 pages, I believe and it had no lines. We still want to try making one of our own sometime with our own designs for covers. A kit would be more costly, but in the end, it may be cheaper if there’s a number for a supplier enclosed. We also may be able to find suppliers through AOL.
Tom says we’ll be moved by the turn of the century, but I don’t know. He’s like he is with the kid with that. Every few months we might be able to move soon, as well as that I’ll be pregnant soon. Things always take either way longer than you anticipated or they never happen. I wouldn’t be surprised if we were still here in the year 2005.
I abandoned the music room since it’s the smallest room in the house that echoes and brings in next door’s bullshit just beautifully. The only reason I’ll use that room now is to listen to music since my stereo’s still in there. Also, my bookcase of journals is still in there. Other than that, I don’t intend to hang out in that room. I’ve moved my table that I write and draw and do whatever on back into the master bedroom in the same spot it was before. I had had the vanity in there all this time and now that’s in the music room where my table was. Tom can sleep through me working in there and doesn’t mind at all. Thank God he’s so easy-going and flexible and tolerable and adaptable like he is.
Boy, have I got to clean this place as soon as I can. Gotta dust, vacuum, and clean the kitchen.
I haven’t checked my email yet, so I’ll go do that soon, too.
Later…
I forgot to mention that Tom and I discussed putting up the same acoustic sound blockers in the music room and living room that’s in the bedroom.
Got a letter from Kim today. She says she’ll be calling me about my Bob idea. She also sent me a couple of boring Bob letters. I told her she can just ditch any boring ones and then highlight or circle any of his rare funny lines and send those to me. Bob didn’t mention to her that my letters were rather strange, so that’s nice.
Tom’s out now fixing Mary’s car. Once again, this is very nice of him, but I wish he’d take care of stuff around here before taking care of other people’s stuff. The lawn needs mowing and what about all the stuff he promised to make me this year as part of his New Year’s resolution? Why is it that he keeps his word to others when he says he’s gonna do something for them, but he won’t keep his word for his wife?
Today I de-dutied the patio, which Tom said he was gonna do every weekend. I don’t mind doing it, but I’m not as patient about it as he is. Also, it’s kind of hard to do at times when a certain area of the patio floods. So I have to wait for that to dry up a bit before doing more of it. The birds are so brave. They come right up to where I’m hosing down the patio. They only fly away when I spray them, but only a few feet above the spray, and then they return.
This morning Tom dried a load of laundry, so when I got up later, I went and got it and put it away. Then I washed the sheets and a few towels and hung those out on the line. Then I made the bed and that’s pretty much all I’ve done for the most part, but during the week I intend to fully clean this house. It’s filthy.
Later…
I just talked to Tom who says he’s got Mary’s car narrowed down to a few possibilities as to what the problem may be. He’ll be home in about half an hour.
I heard next door just come in, as always, but to my utter amazement, they came in pretty mildly. Now next door all I have to do is hope the next few hours are quiet. So far, Robin’s been right on their being quiet, so I’ll give her that much.
Later…
I realize that I was being rather hard on Tom about Mary’s car and perhaps a bit selfish and unfair too. Working on Mary’s car is a good way for Tom to spend time with Dad and they both love to talk about cars. Tom said he grew up with his dad fixing cars and that he taught Tom all he knows about cars.
We screwed this morning, but he got sick and had to stop after going on top cuz he ate right before screwing. Always an excuse or problem. Funny how he was really close this morning and how he happened to get sick as soon as we changed to the missionary position. I don’t know what the truth really is, but I don’t know if I care anymore either. He told me more about the secret, whether it’s true or not. He says I’ll notice it as it happens but won’t know that that was the secret till he tells me. It has nothing to do with the house. He’s the only one who knows about it. It’s something he found out. Thank God he said it’s something he found out, cuz now I know he’s not playing more sex and baby games. He denied it had anything to do with Robin, but he’s never denied a trip. I think that’s it. The reason why I know it’s not about sex/kid is cuz he wouldn’t “find out” anything about it. He’s never gonna care to check into his problem, whether it’s mental or physical, and I still really believe he’s holding back. He already admitted he’s holding back now in an indirect way (he always has one reason after another to hold back anyway). I told him I was gonna hold off on stuff I want (he knew what I meant), cuz his dad needs him. He thanked me, but of course, it’s his own willpower that holds him back. Then he says this stuff with his dad won’t be going on much longer. Yes, it will. And when it’s over, there’ll be something else.
He also admitted he realizes he shouldn’t tease me with certain things and he says he’s gonna work on it. That’s nice, but I can’t believe a guy as smart as he is, didn’t know any better than to go teasing someone about having a kid.
THURSDAY, JUNE 13, 1996 I begin writing this with one of my birds watching me through the window. It’s so windy out there today and I hope that nest holds up OK. So far, so good.
I might not have time to get into why I got to thinking last night and ended up furious at my parents, but I will soon enough.
I talked to Andy a short while ago and he said I might be able to get that song Dreams to Dream by Linda from a station called K-LITE. I’ll go try soon.
Tonight Andy and I will be calling this live message and chat line to play with horny men’s minds and we might even send them next door here. That ought to surprise those freeloaders.
Speaking of those freeloaders, yesterday at around 7:30, there were 2 or 3 cars there and I heard ball-bouncing start up. I also saw 3 freeloaders chatting out back. I said to myself, oh shit, they’re gonna party till 10:00 or later. But they didn’t chat long and remained quiet. The ball bouncing didn’t last long at all either. They just better stay quiet this weekend!
I have to see Dr. Nielson today and I���m sure all will be OK with that. Hopefully, we’ll be in and out of there and the waiting room won’t be rowdy. It usually isn’t rowdy.
Tom’s taking sick days off today and tomorrow as he is emotionally and physically exhausted. He’s over fixing Mary’s car right now which is very kind and generous of him, but I hope he’ll take care of himself more and not worry so much about other people’s needs.
Got an anniversary card today from my parents with $35 of cash in it. That’s what Tammy said she and Bill got for their anniversary, too.
Later…
Just came back from seeing Dr. Nielsen. All’s fine with the ear. He just cleaned out a few flakes of dead skin and some wax. I don’t have to see him till December 12th.
Tom spent the money we got for our anniversary that his parents sent on what he wanted, and we’ve agreed to spend the money from my parents on what I want. I wanted to stop at the art store so bad after Nielsen’s, but it was closed. So I guess we’ll go back tomorrow.
The reason why I got furious after thinking about what my dad said about my so-called down letters, which really is an exaggeration, was cuz of this. I told them the truth and if I can’t be myself and tell them what’s going on, good or bad, then maybe I shouldn’t be writing to them. They just don’t get it. People have their good times and their bad times and if they only want me to write what they want to hear, then I don’t want to write to them. They act like I shouldn’t be upset over the things that are going on. I’d have to be inhuman to not be upset over things that have been going on. Also, they just don’t realize that different people deal with different things differently and they get over different things at their own pace. Maybe they should look at me as a person, instead of their daughter and ask themselves what they see in me. Just someone who writes them "down" letters? Is that all I’ve been to them? Well, they’ve said 3 or 4 times that they were gonna come out here, I honestly can’t see why they haven’t been able to, therefore, I do doubt they love me or care that much for me or my letters and if that’s so, we shouldn’t contact one another.
Everything that’s gone on in life really makes me say, what the fuck? Fuck my dreams and fuck everything. All I care about is Tom. Meanwhile, I don’t want the kid anymore, I don’t want to go to college or work (although I know I’m gonna have to do something with my life), I don’t want to see my family. I just want to keep every day the same as it has been for the last two years. I’d rather be bored than filled with all kinds of hectic and stressful bullshit. I’ve always known what kids will do to people’s bodies, minds, wallets, and relationships, but as I see Tom less able to deal with things that bother me, I know that a kid will surely be the end-all of our marriage. All we’d do is fight like hell over stuff about it and our lives would be the most miserable and non-existent. Anyway, here I go worrying and bitching about something that could never happen, anyhow.
Last night I came into the bedroom to go to bed and I swear that he was already awake. He looked right at me and asked me what was wrong. Guess my fury showed. So I told him what I just wrote about my parents and all I got was, “I’m sorry you feel this way, I’m sure you have reasons to, but you seem even madder about it now, you’ll take it out on me, I don’t understand, etc.”
Gee, that made me really feel like talking to him. And why would I take it out on him? Also, he’s never met or known my parents and he never will, therefore, he couldn’t even understand and I should’ve just kept my mouth shut cuz I don’t think he wants to hear it or deal with it, no matter what’s going on in life.
Now, I know I don’t have to worry about getting pregnant, but how do I get out of the appointment next year? I’m sure Tom will be a piece of cake to talk out of it, but the appointment wouldn’t change anything, so I shouldn’t worry. Anyway, I can’t believe he said I’d be spoiled for not having a kid with him. What a fucking joke! Like he’d have a kid with me?
The freeloaders are barbecuing now, and I expect that their company will be arriving soon enough.
Later…
Good news next door. I never heard anything and I guess it’s just one guy over there alone. I saw one guy out barbecuing and that was it. No music or balls or loud conversations. I still have a bad feeling about Saturday and I hope to hell I’m wrong!
After I came home, Tom left shortly after to go work on Mary’s car yet again. So far, he hasn’t had any luck with it. He says he doesn’t want to have to do anything on Saturday, but this I’ve got to see.
When we go to the art store, I’d like to get 2 or 3 journals and 3 different pens. I’ve mentioned those pens and what pen colors I want to get from there the last time I was there at that store. The last time I was there we didn’t have money for journals and I got that fucked up eraser and something else from there. Oh yeah, the stumps.
Well, I guess those freeloaders do have or just did get company. I just heard a kid that sounded about 4 years old. Shit! Damn! Fuck! They’re gonna fucking totally ruin the whole fucking weekend! I don’t know if I mentioned this here, but I told Tom that I think that the reason why they were hardly home and hardly had company is cuz they just now recently got all settled in and got it all decorated. Now, they feel more comfortable about having company over. Now they’re just like most people are out here and like dogs are out here. No people or dogs ever stay inside. They seem to live outside 24/7. I miss the days when they were hardly ever home, but I knew it was just a matter of time.
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 12, 1996 Well, yesterday’s news about the money explains that feeling I had back around last November that June would be a month where we’d improve financially. It’s hard to believe that we’re about to have all our bills paid up and more, regardless of how we got the money.
When I asked Tom why he was influenced by things I did or said when I thought he was supposed to be a person with a mind of his own like he said, he said that I’d always influence him and he wants it that way cuz he loves me. I think he means that he wants to be influenced in ways he wants to be influenced. But if I were to try to influence him to cum, he won’t, cuz he doesn’t want to be influenced to do that, regardless of what’s going on in our lives.
I think sometimes he knows the meaning of the word love and shows it in so many ways. When it comes to sex and the kid, he seems to have a warped sense of the word. To him, being truly loving is telling me what I want to hear, rather than that he really doesn’t want to be a daddy.
I thought of leaving him and I have wondered if I should cuz most women would, but then I realized something. I have had a problem all my life where I’d think about what most people would do in a certain situation and not what I, as the individual I am, should do. So after asking myself what was best for me, I decided this one bad thing wasn’t worth throwing away the millions of good things about him and that I love him unconditionally. No one’s perfect and that includes me, too. I don’t want to leave him, I don’t want to sue him and I don’t want to go to a doctor next year to try to make him and push him to do what he doesn’t really want to do.
Yes, I’d have a kid for him if he really wanted one and I never wanted one at all cuz I love him, but no one should or can be forced into having a kid, any more than one can or should bother to try changing people like my mother. Change must begin from inside ourselves, then people can help.
I also asked Tom if he was influenced by my beliefs. I asked him if I disbelieved something that he believed, would he be tempted to prove me wrong or let me be right or neither and he said neither. What do I believe? I guess it depends on how important a certain issue is to him, but sometimes he does seem argumentative and like he’s challenging something I said.
Tom told me some sad, yet funny stories about Dad’s roommate at the hospital. Well, they had to stick him in his own room so that they could monitor him better cuz they caught him one night trying to call 911 cuz there were Indians in his room. Reminds me of crazy Ellie, who’d appear so sweet and normal one minute, then the next minute she’d be furious, hearing the CIA talking to her out of her vents.
Mary’s coworker, whose name is also Mary, has her dad in the hospital for whatever reason and he too, isn’t quite there. At the hospital, he kept insisting that he was at the skating rink and that his name was Julio, instead of Sam, and that he never saw his daughter in all his life. Then he asked the daughter if she was going skating, too.
The pictures asked me if I thought the money was a sign of something. Well, if it is, I can’t see it. There have been some things in life that were signs, meant to be, and for a later purpose or plan that I didn’t see for years after the fact.
I don’t see how it could mean or lead to anything. I can see our bills being paid off and that’s logic, but my vibes don’t see anything like us getting that bed or moving or anything else too extravagant.
They also asked me if I thought it’d make Tom feel more comfortable about having a kid.
No, I highly doubt that. Money may have been one of the factors, but there are lots of other factors. There are several other reasons why he very well could be and probably always has been and will be afraid to have a kid, whether he admits it or not. He describes me as beautiful and skinny, but that would be gone with a child. So would all my attention and so much more that he’d have to deal with or lose.
Only 3 more days left till Saturday. Saturday’s our anniversary, but will next door make it hell on us? Well, he wouldn’t care, but I’d be fuming and ready to kill. Please, God, don’t let them ruin our special day. Oops, better not say that, or else God will make sure our anniversary includes them and their noise.
According to Tom, his family is sorry I feel God hates me but they’re also rather amused by it.
Oh great! So the whole family knows and thinks it’s all one big fucking joke. With all due respect to my mother-in-law whom I otherwise love and care for very much and who I think is a great person, I’m never gonna utter another personal statement of any kind ever again. I told this to Tom, Andy, some of my family members, and Mom, not Mary and God knows how many other people.
We got a $25 check from Mom and Dad S for our anniversary. I wonder if my folks will send cash or a gift? Now, I hope they won’t send cash.
Later…
I did end up talking to my folks just now and told them the latest scoop.
Tom just called and said that it doesn’t look like Dad’s going home today, but maybe tomorrow.
Later…
Tom called again a little while ago. He’s not sure when Dad’s coming home, but he thinks it’ll be soon. Now, he’s at his parents’ house working on Mary’s car which was towed over there yesterday.
I told him of how my dad was lecturing me about how every single letter sounded down and how I live in the past. I said I told him I was sorry if I sounded like a sad and unstable person and I didn’t mean to depress them and that I’m working on not judging the present by the past. I’ve got a damn good idea of what my faults and flaws are, but I didn’t need him lecturing me. They need to let me be myself and accept me as I am. Tom says he just thinks he was trying to cheer me up. I don’t think so, but that all goes back to my parents’ power of persuasion and goodness. Everyone thinks they’re just trying to help and that they’re good people. Well, they are good and helpful people, but sometimes they have an obnoxious way of showing it and I’m getting sicker of them and have less of a desire to see them as time goes on. I’m not suggesting I dump my parents, but I think it’s best I keep my mouth shut with members of my family too, and not write to them as much.
Also, I know this may sound weird and I know that the longer you don’t see a loved one, the more you miss them, but with me, the longer I don’t see them, the less I want to see them. I just don’t want to be bothered with dealing with these people. I find I’m caring less and less about them and their opinions of me. I can handle Larry and seeing Dad alone, but Mom and Dad together is another story as well as Tammy. I know that if Tom and I were with my parents or with Tammy they’re gonna cut me down in front of him and they know he’s not gonna say a word about it. Not to them, anyway. I don’t want to be alone with these people, either.
I have written them plenty of good stuff and I’m sorry if I’ve written the truth, even if it were bad. Like with Tom’s dad. Of course, I know my parents don’t at all sympathize with me for not being able to have a kid but fuck them and what they think. I don’t owe them, or Tammy, or Larry, or anyone else but my husband shit.
I don’t know how I’ll feel in the future and no, I wouldn’t stop any family members from coming out here, but me go to Florida or New England? No fucking way! The way I see it is like this. My brother’s been cool since we’ve been in touch again, my sister and mother are bitches, my dad’s unpredictable, but mostly cool, my aunts and cousins don’t give a shit and my uncles are little bullies and assholes. I don’t need it.
TUESDAY, JUNE 11, 1996 Yesterday Tom noticed a car next door that he’s never seen before, but they were quiet. I get more nervous as the weekend approaches, though.
No new news with his dad. He’s still the same.
I was telling Tammy about it yesterday and she asked how Tom was dealing with it and if I’ve talked to Mom and Dad. She said something about mentioning it to Mom and Dad, but I don’t need them. My husband needs me. Besides, what can they do? I’m not gonna call them when there ain’t shit they can do for us and I’m gonna be bitched out for calling twice a month. I’m feeling less and less like writing to them as much or even talking to them. I guess it’s just that I haven’t seen much of them since I was 15 and they’re not necessarily my type of people to know or to chat with.
Andy left a message saying I just had to hear his outgoing messages. He starts off saying, “We silly people can’t come to the phone now, so leave a message,” then there was me laughing from the edits. If Judy calls and leaves a message, she may be confused when she hears me and think that the “we” living there is Andy and I and not Andy and Laura.
Yesterday I drew that postcard my mother had sent with the cat on the piano reading music. The cat came out great, but the piano keys were a little peculiar. I didn’t feel like copying all that music, so I stuck a fishbowl in place of it.
Later…
I was watching Little House. This episode was all about broken promises and how the more someone loves you, the less they’re able to keep their promises cuz they want to promise you things that’ll make you happy. Well, Tom really does love me very much.
Last night he said we could move if we really had to and that we would find ways to move if we had to. How, though? The only way I can think of that would enable us to move would be if one of our parents gave us the money.
He said last night he wants a 7-bedroom house. That way we can have a work computer room, a play computer room, an electronics room, music room, a journal room, our room, then the nursery.
Why does he still joke about something that once meant so much to me? I guess he really does want to say things that make me happy and I’m sure that even when I’m 50 or 60, he’ll still be telling me we’re gonna have a kid. The thing that amazes me is how he still says it as if I’ll believe him and not know better. Another thing is, how he says he’s 100% sure we’ll have a kid with such certainty and confidence. Like I said, though, I don’t think I’ll ever know if he’s a great actor when he says this, a total liar, or if he has a problem he thinks will cure itself, or if he has a problem he’s in denial about, or if he plain old just thinks he wants a kid and doesn’t know that his subconscious is saying, “No! I don’t want a kid and I’m too scared to have one.”
There’s still a chance that he could’ve had a time frame in mind all along as to when he’d let himself start cumming, due to his matter-of-fact, certain, and confident way he says we’ll be having a kid, but like I said, I’ll probably never know for sure what his true reasons were for us never having a kid and I doubt it’s the last theory I wrote just now.
Still, to a DES person, the truth will never matter, except to settle my curiosity. I think both God and Tom, though, like the idea of me having to wonder about something. I’m also on my way to being an atheist, too, since any time I’ve really ever prayed didn’t help. It was like I might as well have just been talking to a wall. With all the sick and unfair things on top of that which happen in this world, it’s nearly impossible to believe in God at all, let alone have faith in him.
Later…
I couldn’t bring my lazy ass to draw or clean today, but I did other things. I sang, typed up more of Andy’s journal after writing in it, and did a few other things.
I’m still determined to get a job, if I can’t get some nice career ever, once Tom has the time to take me places.
Tom mentioned taking a sick day at the end of the week to catch up on his sleep. I’ve been encouraging him to use them, instead of pretending we’re gonna have a kid and need them for that. I think sometimes he gets reality and fantasy confused.
There are a couple of things I don’t get. First of all, for the last two days my stomach’s been better, so who knows for sure what it was. If it’s a pulled or torn muscle, though, wouldn’t having a kid make it worse, or create more torn and pulled muscles for a person? I wonder if my stomach pain could’ve been ovulation due to the times I felt it and Tom said he’s heard some women can feel it. But that strongly? And why only since 1992 and not when I first got my periods? And why the bulge in that area?
There’s something else I don’t get about that contradicting husband of mine who says it’s not my fault that he doesn’t cum, then who goes and tells me all the reasons and things I do that turn him off from cumming. He claims he’s got a mind of his own and that other people don’t and can’t control or influence his actions, so then why does he say we’d have sex more often if I had better behavior during mid-cycle? Why does he let what I say or do influence him if he really wants sex? No doubt he’s using me as an excuse for his own fears.
Anyway, I’m so bored right now and I really need a job. Since I can’t have one right now, I’ll have to try to get myself into doing something around here. I wish Tom were home. I also wish I could get him to tell me what this big secret is or that there never was a secret and that it was just another one of his games.
I should really enjoy these quiet, peaceful, moments full of freedom. You see, I know that if we had had a kid, I’d be longing for these days of freedom back and wishing I could trade the hectic craziness for being bored and having my husband all to myself. I know I don’t always get to see him as much as I’d like to, but with a kid, it’d be much worse. As soon as we’d find time together, the kid would either cry or come barging in on us with something it needed.
Later…
I’m still so fucking bored! Tom should be here any minute. He called from his parents’ house and they said there was a chance Dad would be going home tomorrow.
Later…
Tom’s home now and the only really good news is that our financial problems will be over with eventually. Dad’s leaving each of the kids at least $5,000 when he goes.
As far as dad, who knows? We all only hope he doesn’t suffer when he goes.
MONDAY, JUNE 10, 1996 I’m back, after having some pizza and going for a swim.
I hope next door’s not gang-related or associated with someone who is. That’s all we’d need is for someone to do a little drive-by shooting routine aimed at them, and get us by mistake. I haven’t seen any signs that are gang-associated, though, so I guess there’s no point in worrying.
Yesterday when Tom went to see Dad, he wondered if he was ever gonna be coming home again. Yeah, I kind of wondered that myself before he came back and told me so. He’s gonna stop by there after work and he’ll be calling me from there or from his parents’ house to let me know the scoop.
I just remembered that Tom said that he would be embarrassed, if they came here to the house, to let Goldie and Al see that we had separate bedrooms at the time. Then why wouldn’t he be embarrassed to go to a doctor, even though he says he wouldn’t be?
Later…
The kids are out screaming now due to it suddenly cooling down. It went from hot and sunny to warm and cloudy as I was de-dutying the patio.
I talked to Tammy and filled her in on life out here. She says she hasn’t gotten her messages since after Dad left cuz she’s been busy with the kids and work, but mainly with the kids. This is where I really wonder if I want to throw my life away on a kid. Still, if Tom were really serious about a kid, I’d have one for him even if I were against the idea of a kid all the time, cuz I love him that much.
Tammy’s gonna have tons of messages from me when she gets online.
I have a new Bob idea. I called Kim to tell her about it after not being able to think of one for so long, but she had to split for Springfield. So, I told her to hang up and I’d tell her all about it on her machine. The idea is for her to tell Bob I’ve died, by whatever cause, then two weeks later I’ll write to him as if nothing were ever wrong and Kim will deny saying I died or ever knowing anything about it.
Later…
I guess the kids have moved to the front once again. I just went out to feed the birds and there wasn’t a sound. Then when I went to get the mail, there was a magazine that couldn’t fit through the mail slot, and I saw kids out front. Great, if they’re back out there to stay, but I doubt it. Not with those monkey bars. This winter is gonna be bad. I can sense it now. Next door, two houses down, and whoever else, is gonna really drive me batty.
There was a message from Andy. He was reading my Myst journal I gave him a while back and it started off about people being pregnant. He said he was so sorry he said that and that that page is what he happened to turn to when the machine picked up.
Yeah, I believe that, and like God didn’t plan it that way? I told Andy, though, not to worry. I’ve known all my life that a kid wasn’t in my cards. So anything I hear about it isn’t gonna change that. At least he thought about it and thought to ask about Tom’s dad. He said he had had good vibes about Tom’s dad too, but now, who knows?
SUNDAY, JUNE 9, 1996 Well, I’ve been here 4 years today and on this 4th anniversary of being here in Arizona, I must say that yesterday turned out to be a very shitty day. Shortly after the last time I wrote, the freeloaders ended up having a hell of a party for at least 8 hours and there were at least 5 adults and 2 kids. I didn’t hear much in the way of music, but they were screaming at the top of their lungs and bouncing balls on and off like you wouldn’t believe. They were all along the wall that divides our houses. They were in the back, they were at the side, they were in front.
They had their lawn done around 1 something, then started partying around 2:00 or 3:00. We went to bed around 10:00 and they were still partying.
Tom thinks that on weekends they go to play basketball at some gym, and then they go to one of their houses. He also thinks that yesterday was a special occasion, like someone’s birthday or anniversary. It looks like they got a grill now, too, and how the hell they could stand this heat, beats me.
This is the second time in only 3 months that there was an outburst over there and it better not get more frequent or I’ll go over there and set them straight so fucking fast that they won’t even know what hit them. If they want to party and make noise, fine, but it’s not gonna come into this household in any way shape or form.
When we went out to swim, Tom said not to antagonize them by screaming back. But what gives them the right to antagonize me? Anyway, this morning I said to myself, fuck the wanting to listen to music or sing in privacy and I blasted my music for a good 20 minutes to a half-hour like I usually do once or twice a day, depending on my schedule. The only time I won’t make any noise is at night cuz they don’t. Meanwhile, I don’t owe them nothing. Between them and O.J. Simpson, I’m starting to not be very fond of blacks, even though I know there are plenty of good ones as well as bad just like with whites and everyone else. Why do blacks always have to be so loud and obnoxious? I mean, even the adults were carrying on like they were flying on drugs or something. They want to be accepted into society, but then they carry on like animals. Any type of person who wants to be accepted in this world, shouldn’t act like wild assholes unless they don’t give a shit, and obviously, they don’t. They’re just like everyone else who’s self-centered and who just doesn’t give a damn about those around them. They couldn’t just say to themselves, “OK, we’ll be friendly and considerate neighbors since those around us were here first. Keeping our noise for our ears only isn’t too much to ask for.”
Tom says that he’s sure it’ll be a very rare thing with them cuz if they liked company so much, they’d have had more parties. Maybe they didn’t have time for parties before, but, I’m not gonna give them a choice, but to shut up should they turn into neighbors like that butch was at the Vista Ventana. She started off quiet, only to raise holy hell a few months later. Well, not these people! My days of dealing with other people’s noise are over unless it is infrequent, and we’ll see about that. So far, I haven’t heard them, but it’s still early. Tom says that if they were to make this a constant habit, the people next to them on the other side would complain cuz they have small children, and no one wants to deal with a kid who hasn’t had their sleep (they’re lucky we don’t have a baby!). Anyway, there’s no way in hell they’d complain cuz they didn’t when that band used to play 2 or 3 times a week across the street. Also, if they can deal with their kids screaming and those dogs barking at all hours and sleep through that, then they weren’t the least bit bothered by the freeloader’s antics yesterday.
Just when I thought I couldn’t be more convinced that Robin’s a liar and that God hates me, well, I am. Barely halfway through their little fiesta next door, Robin came to me and told me that it’d be a very uncommon occurrence, it’d be over in about an hour, and that I’ll still be pregnant by September 1st for sure.
As far as God goes, well, I swear that he goes and does the opposite of what I pray for. That doesn’t mean that he’ll allow me a kid if I were to pray for him to prevent that, but I prayed for him to at least simmer them down next door, but then it got worse. Dad gets worse every time I pray for him and if I pray for anything positive to happen in the way of sex, there’s always a problem or a fight about it.
Speaking of sex, true to what I figured he’d do, he laid down in bed with me, making me think we’d screw, but he wasn’t in the mood. How convenient. Then he contradicts himself and says that I behave not too coolly when I’m mid-cycle and that if I did, we’d have sex more often and when I was mid-cycle. Then why did he accept my apology for saying those things I never meant to say and say it was over with and that we could move on? And he says he’s not punishing me for talking about a subject that turns him off? Could’ve fooled me. How can he say I can’t control him and that I’m not to blame? He does let what I say control him and he does blame me. It’s my fault if I mention being mid-cycle or having a kid, cuz it turns him off and he blames me for this. I’m so sick of all these things I have to do to get sex more often and I’m so sick of these things I have to do that he says will make him cum. It’s all just fucking bullshit! All he wants to do is avoid me during mid-cycle, cuz he doesn’t want to take the one in billions of chances there are in getting me pregnant, cuz he doesn’t want a kid, tease me about it, say I don’t control his thoughts or feelings and that I’m not to blame, while he then says or implies otherwise, make up these bullshit things that’ll help him while he laughs when they don’t cuz he knows they won’t, loves to see me feel like a failure who’s not good enough sexually, then gets all turned off while making me feel like I have to “earn” sex from him while other things are way more important to him. I’ve never met anyone like him who’s so scared of sex and a kid and who’s so contradicting, confused, cruel, a liar, and such a tease.
Later…
We screwed around an hour ago and it was pretty predictable. He started off in our sideways position for way longer than I would’ve liked (yeah, he’s way eager to do missionary position and get in shape for it and make this kid). Then he went on top and what happened about 5 minutes later? The daily excuse. This time it was that we couldn’t screw on the bed sideways cuz his arms and feet were hanging off the bed. Well, if I really was that horny and wanted to get off that bad, I’d just deal with it.
I feel the same way about him as I feel about myself. Different is good and OK, but must we both be so different? It’s the same old shit. Something I said, he’s tired, he’s sore, he’s sick, he’s busy. I know I may sound selfish saying this now cuz of his dad, but it’s been this way always.
He told me that he dreams of solutions to problems in his sleep. Stuff like computer problems and other problems. I asked if he ever dreamt about solutions to our sex life in his sleep and he said there’s nothing broken between us. True. Unless I’m broke cuz of the DES, any guy who refuses to cum, isn’t broke. Not physically, anyway. I just can’t believe, after all, that he’s got a type of impotence like Tammy said. He’s not as insensitive as Bill is. Meaning, he cries if he needs to, so if he had a physical problem, he wouldn’t be afraid to go to a doctor. At least, I don’t think he would be.
Tom said this morning that he thought there was a chance that the pain I’ve been having in my lower right gut is a pulled muscle. I don’t know. I keep going back and forth from thinking I could have an infection, to it being gas and then to his idea. He told me that around 1973 or 1974, he had the same problem in one of the lower sides of his gut that he thinks was a pulled, weak, or hurt muscle till around 1977. He said that when he was in the Air Force, they made him exercise every day and it seemed to strengthen it. Yeah, I know I should push myself to do more exercises more often, but it’s so very hard.
We went swimming earlier and it was great and lots of fun. There were a few bees Tom had to protect me from and scare off, but there were no dogs, kids, or freeloaders. The birds were out and about, of course, and they’d still get their drinks from the pool. What Tom said was true. What more could the birds want when they’ve got food and drinks here as well as attention? This is the perfect home for them. They let me pat them here and there nowadays and they have no patience when I go to feed them. I lift the cover up and stick my arm in the bucket to reach for some seed and they jump on the cover before I pull my arm back out. In the pool, Tom was asking me why this certain one’s tail was shaking like a leaf. I said they do that sometimes, but that maybe Nervous was reincarnated into that bird, and that that was why it was so shaky and appeared to be a bundle of nerves.
Andy left a message saying Linda’s got a new album out now called Dedicated to the One I Love. Andy says she’s holding the baby she adopted on the cover of it. I didn’t know she adopted another kid. I thought she adopted one that’d be between 10-15 now. Anyway, the review of it was shitty. They describe it as a boring album that’ll put you to sleep. Yeah, I believe that these days.
I haven’t been to the library lately, and I just can’t get into these romance novels. I want to find a good haunting book like John Saul’s to sink into. I don’t know, though, if we’ll have time for quite a while to go to the library.
Tom went to the hospital again to see his dad. He left this morning at around 9:00 and he took off just over an hour ago. I hope that Dad’s condition will improve since I haven’t been asking God to help him.
Tom said his mom was shocked that during our visit yesterday I said I thought God hated me. The subject came up and she asked me. Not directly, but close enough. I had no idea she was telling Tom and others what I was saying to her and now I’ve got to watch out and clam up. I didn’t think she was the kind and she’s so accepting of me and all kinds of people, be it Mexicans, Jews, gays, hyper people, etc. She’s obviously not saying, “Oh, we talked about this and that.” She’s reciting everything I say in complete detail!
Later, I’ve got two movies taped that I may check out. Or parts of them, anyway. I checked the TV guide up to 11:00 so far and there doesn’t seem to be anything too exciting on, so I’ll be doing puzzles or something else tonight if I don’t get tied up with whatever else.
Also, if Tom isn’t playing a joke on me, there are words that I’ve added to the computer dictionary that have been there a while that seem to magically fall out of the dictionary and I have to re-add them.
SATURDAY, JUNE 8, 1996 I felt better last night and this morning, so I did end up going to Ma’s, and then to see Dad at the hospital.
I fell asleep around midnight with no problems, then got up at 6:30. Of course, Tom was tired and didn’t even touch me. We left at 8:00 and went to Ma’s, but we didn’t go to the hospital till 10:00.
When we got there, we ended up cleaning and doing car work. Mom and Dad have two cars and Tom was gonna take one to get a part he needed for one of their hoses. It’s called a splitter. Anyway, when we went to leave, the car wouldn’t start. There was corrosion on the battery. So we put baking soda on it, wet it down and it bubbled away the corrosion. Then the battery died, so we had to jump-start it. Then there was something wrong with the gear. It would not shift, so Tom took care of that.
Then he took off for the hardware store while I dusted and Ma did a little cleaning in the bathroom. I never saw so much dust in one house! No wonder they can’t breathe. There were cobwebs on the stuff near the bed. I also cleaned a couple of their full-length mirrors.
I played a little on her organ, but most of the keys don’t work.
While I was over at Ma’s dusting, I noticed this journal lying on top of a bookcase and I commented on it. Ma said she didn’t know where these journals were popping up from, and gave it to me. It’s older and uglier looking, but I still like it cuz it’s different. I like the quotes and the borders. The whole page layout isn’t the typical kind.
The cranberry juice and the Ibuprofen haven’t helped my stomach completely, so I guess I’ll just have to live with it.
There’s one of my birds in the back room window now. There are lots of them out there now. About 30. He’s looking in now and watching me and what I’m doing.
Shortly after 10:00 was when we took off for the hospital to see Dad. He’s with it, so to speak, and seems a bit better, although he still has a cough. We left Ma at the hospital, then Tom brought me home, and then he went back to mow their yard. He probably won’t be home till around 5:00 or later. I really feel like we have no life! We’ve hardly had any time together and who knows when and if we ever will.
Got the first issue of my new large print word find puzzle today.
Next door’s got company, but they’ve been quiet. That’s probably only due to the heat that they’ve been quiet. I’m sure if it were winter, they’d be out playing ball. I only saw one woman and her daughter visiting. I can’t believe Joely has only one kid. Blacks and Hispanics seem to have tons of them.
Now here’s something pretty amazing and shocking, if you think I’m so unique and different. Cindy, Ma’s sister’s daughter, is 30 years old, and not only is she a virgin who never left her house till after her mother died recently, but she’s also never looked after a kid before. This weekend she’s watching Nickolena. This is the first time in her life she’s babysat. She’s so whacked out from what I’ve heard that I can’t believe she has no kids. Maybe God did do something right after all.
OK, now on the subject of my uniqueness. I know this is gonna sound funny and like a bad excuse, but an outer force (probably God) made me say something to Tom that I didn’t mean and that I didn’t want to say. Nothing’s gonna ever change no matter what I do or don’t say, but I said that I didn’t want a kid for a few years yet, cuz the hospital and all made me want to wait. So, then he said something about not having sex in the missionary position where I’d risk getting pregnant. Yeah, right! He could be in that position, upside down, sideways; the guy won’t cum. The point is that it really felt like an outer force took over me and made me say this when fear of pregnancy is the last of my worries with a guy who doesn’t cum, whether I wanted a kid or not.
I asked myself why this thing would make me say stuff I didn’t want to say when it doesn’t matter, and I can’t conceive anyhow. The only thing I could think of was so that Tom could “punish” me. Meaning, his actions will say, “It’s too late, even though you said you were sorry and explained yourself to me. I’m gonna make sure the sex isn’t that great or that I don’t go on top anyway, just cuz you brought it up and placed it on my mind.” Like it isn’t on his mind every time we fuck anyway? Sure it is. Every time we fuck, he has to concentrate using every ounce of his mind and body to make sure he doesn’t let go. I just don’t want him to use this to tease me or to piss me off. Maybe instead of doing positions I don’t think are as fun, he’ll be too tired or too sore. That’s his usual excuse, so why should he change it now? Of course, by the time we get to doing anything in bed, if we do, it’ll be right before he crashes. Sex seems to be his last concern of the day. Sometimes I wish he’d take some kind of aphrodisiac, but fear of that kid will only override it.
Just think, if we had a kid now, damn would our lives be miserable. We already have no life, so think of what a kid would do to us. There’d be no chance in hell to screw later and I really think I’d just rather want it than have it. I’d be so sick and so miserable. It just isn’t for me. Besides, if I had all my dreams granted, there’d be nothing left to dream about. I’m not mother material and Tom’s busy life and our skinny wallet aren’t for a kid. It’d cost us tons of money to babyproof this house, let alone to pay for the baby and its needs. Is that all really worth the pain my body would go through, what it’d look like after, how we’d be as a couple and financially, the mental fatigue of it, and the lack of sleep and a life?
Maybe God really is just protecting me and my husband and has made me do the right thing. Maybe I should be helping to make sure I’m not pregnant by September, however, that job’s already taken care of. Between Tom and God, they can handle it.
The pool is so nice right now and Tom and I were gonna go for a swim around this time of day, but I guess we’ll have to go later. It’ll still be nice then. If I go at night and if the pool light still hasn’t been fixed yet, since we don’t have time to take care of our own stuff, I’ll bring out my flashlight and skim over the water to see if there are any dead bugs. Then I’ll just get them out of there with the net.
Well, I guess I’m gonna go watch some TV now.
FRIDAY, JUNE 7, 1996 A couple of days ago I wrote a note to Tom that he said was the best I’d ever written to him. Yeah, that’s cuz I told him to forget the patio, the back room, the kid, and more due to all that’s been going on till he’s ready to do whatever he wants.
Anyway, we’re looking forward to a fun weekend. He’s got to mow here and at his parent’s house among other things, but hopefully, we can go swimming, play cards, and screw. Tomorrow I’m mid-cycle, though, so he may want to go down on me or screw in a position that’s easier for him to hold back in. If he goes on top of me, which would shock me, I’ll bet he won’t be there for long. I wouldn’t be surprised if he screwed me tonight and then had some excuse as to why he couldn’t screw tomorrow or at least not for long or on top. Something of his will be sore. Or he may wake up super early so he can be exhausted. Also, I’ll bet he won’t touch me till the end of the day, but I’ll let you know, of course.
Andy may call later. I hope everything’s OK with him. He says his life is very stagnant, too, and that he feels a lot of the feelings I do.
Tom told me if I went to the hospital to see his dad, to be prepared for the guy he shares a room with. He’s a Jewish guy who’s had bypass surgery (that may remind me of my dad). I asked how he knew he was Jewish, and Tom says it’s nothing you can put your finger on, but it’s a subliminal thing that’s inflected in the way the guy talks.
A few days ago, he and his mother talked about money that they’d never quite had before. Well, as I’ve probably mentioned before, his dad was 21 during the depression and he got set in his ways as far as saving money, don’t spend it unless you absolutely need to, cuz the whole country is broke and on welfare. This stuck with him and has always been a way of life for him just like most kids that were abused. That sticks with them and that’s a way of life for them as a child and as an adult. Not everyone can stop living in the past or not go on to do stuff that was done to them.
Anyway, when Mom and Dad got married, it was agreed upon them that the money was his money and it wasn’t to be spent. She could ask for things and stuff like that, but the money wasn’t to be touched for things that weren’t necessities, even though all their accounts are joint accounts. So, Ma told Tom that Dad wanted to give his money to the 5 kids after he dies, even if Mom’s still alive. Tom said he didn’t agree with that (I feel the same), but that it was their money to do as they please.
Again Tom will be stopping by the hospital today after work. I hope his dad is better and close to going home, if not going home. They’re gonna give his dad an oxygen tank to take home with him. Hopefully, that’ll help him.
Before Tom went to work I downloaded some information for him for the first time all by myself from AOL. I also researched AOL for art information but didn’t really find out too much. I mean, it was so overwhelming since there are a million different places to go and a million different things to see. To cover all of what’s on AOL would probably take years. It would also cost a fortune. There’s a monthly fee for AOL that I believe is $10. The first 5 hours are free, and then you get charges added to that $10. I found an area where people made requests for certain drawings they were looking for. One needed a drawing of chickens or something like that for a family reunion. One needed a banana split.
Now would be a good time to sing, but I don’t really feel like it. Musically speaking, though, I did rearrange my tapes. I made a row of them in front of my row of CDs since they were a pain to get at in those cassette drawers. I like to be able to see as much of my music as I can in one spot.
I went for a quick swim just now. It’s to be another hot one out there today and I probably won’t see many of my birds till early afternoon when they get good and hungry or towards the later afternoon. Different birds have different habits and schedules. Chicken Pigeon, for example, usually makes his appearance in the morning and at the end of the day.
It pisses me off that I can’t go swimming at night. Well, I can, but I’d have to do it without the pool light on since the thing that controls it is dead. The reason why I don’t want to swim in a dark pool is that I can’t see what dead bees I may be swimming into or other insects. I’ll have to ask Tom if there’s any other way to activate that light.
I’ll also have to ask him how long email remains on AOL. I think it’s a month or 3 months. Tammy’s so busy and she’s barely got the time to go online, so I hope she’s getting all my messages. I don’t think she’d be tied up from getting online for a month, though. She’s probably gotten my messages but is too lazy or too busy to reply to any of my messages.
I have been praying to God to help Dad get better. Since he’s not very fond of me, who knows if he’ll do so or if he even heard me. We’ll just have to wait and see what Tom has to say when he returns from the hospital.
Alex sent me a message saying he moved. He’s still in Vermont but instead of being in Essex Junction, he’s in Colchester.
Bob’s gonna be a bit confused when he gets my next letter, seeing that it’s journal drafts. He’ll think it’s a letter and be expecting the usual from me. Stuff like how the weather is and just general stuff. Not little details like when I did laundry and shit like that.
Speaking of Bob, he’s well overdue for a new game. What kind of game can Kim and I or just myself play on him? Sometimes I wish I could erase his mind of the edits and all that funny talk and gibberish, so I could start anew by really catching him off guard and confusing him and shocking him and just totally freaking him out with weird lines and gibberish.
When the fuck am I gonna hear from Gloria’s fan club again? They promised me pictures and catalogs in May, so what the hell’s taking so long? They really are screwed up in running this club! I had a dream about a week ago that I was hoping would turn into a dream premonition, but it didn’t. I dreamt that I got 2 or 3 manila envelopes with stuff from her fan club. What it was beats me.
Guess I better get my ass in gear with the drawing. I’ve had a slow spell here and I’ve got to work on those envelopes for Tom as well as stuff in my sketchbook. Maybe I can do some envelopes, too, that’ll be going to my brother and my parents. I should do this in between copying journal drafts.
Andy’s still enjoying his imaginary tour with the Fireflies. He’s gone from California to Oregon and now he’s in Washington.
I should also do some cleaning around here, but I don’t know if I can convince my lazy ass to do any more than the dishes today, but oh well.
I know this is gonna sound very cold and selfish of me, but with the way his parents' illnesses and needs have put a hold on our lives, I sometimes wish they were either younger, out of state, or dead. Maybe that way we could get more done around here and maybe then Tom would at least try occasionally to let himself let go and cum and maybe he wouldn’t be so afraid of the idea of a kid, regardless of whether or not God will allow that. Then again, that may scare him more because if we needed financial help, his folks wouldn’t be around to help and my parents wouldn’t give us a dime. If it weren’t for them loaning us that money to turn the electricity back on, who knows what we’d have done? I’m forever grateful to them for this.
Later…
Tom went to see his dad again and reports no improvement. The lung is still shut tight. Tomorrow we’re gonna go pick Mom up, then go see him at the hospital. Then Tom will bring me home and go back over there to do yard work.
I asked if he’d go down on me. It’s been so long! He agreed, but his tone and expression were as if to say it was a chore he didn’t really feel like doing. And, of course, the ball game comes before I do.
He also says he’s got a secret that I’ll know about by September 1st. He won’t say anything about it, other than that it’s got nothing to do with my family. He’s either just playing with me or it’s something stupid. If it’s not something stupid, it’s got to have something to do with work or money or someplace we might go. I wish it was that he’d come out and say, “I just wanted to wait till now to start working on the kid. I didn’t ever have a problem and it’s not that I never really wanted one either. Look. I can cum. I’ll show you.” I know that’s pure fantasy, though. I really hope he’s not playing with me. That wouldn’t be a funny way to joke with me after I’ve been feeling empty and other negative feelings for so long. I mean, when he says a lot is gonna happen between now and September 1st, it really irks me. We’ll be right where we are now by September 1st, and if we’re not, God will have hit us with a new problem. I hate phonies and liars. Especially when they joke and play with your emotions. A joke like the one he said earlier is different.
I told him that my hair is much heavier when it’s straightened, compared to when I leave it curly. He said we’ll just have to get some helium balloons to take the weight off of it, so I can have it straight without it being so heavy. When I pull my hair straight, it’s to the crack of my ass easily. With my head slightly tipped back, it’s about to the middle of my ass. It’s really moving.
I’m happy to say that the kids were quiet today. That’s fine with me, but I’ll bet they’ll be at it when Tom and I are trying to have a fun, yet peaceful swim during the weekend.
It’s Friday night, so the pigs are swarming around in their helicopters like hell. Sounds like they’re circling near here. Probably someone running from a bar brawl or maybe a car chase.
Kim said something funny to me the other day. She says she tells people, “I’m an RN. A registered nut.”
Laura’s turning out to be a good roommate for Andy, which is nice. It works out well since she’s hardly ever home. She’s out tweaking herself and how these people get the money for shit like this, I don’t know. Andy made a deal with Laura so he wouldn’t have to get mad and bitch her out for not doing her share of the chores (roommates seem to hate doing chores! I should remember that). He said that if she paid him $30 more bucks a month, he’d do all the cleaning and she agreed. He’s more into cleaning now. Especially since he’s got a house.
Later…
Tom just went to get me some cranberry juice for that obnoxious pain I’ve had in my lower right gut since 1992. Cranberry juice helps it. I’m sure it’s gas and I hope to hell I don’t have a UT infection. I asked Tom for cranberry juice 3 or 4 days ago and it’s not like him to keep forgetting. He’s always jumped to do anything I need that’s non-sexually related. Of course, I still wish he’d take care of me sexually right when I need it, but first, he had to watch an hour and a half of TV. “Can’t I have a life?” he asked me.
Sure. But I’d like to come before his other life.
If I’m not asleep between 11:00 and midnight, I’ll have to ask myself if I want to try the Melatonin again and not give up when I should, or if I want to just say fuck it and fall asleep whenever I fall asleep.
I got one more hint about the secret (if he really has a secret). I asked him when I’d find out what it was and he said there was no set time. It still seems logical that he’s playing with me and if so, why oh why must this man play with me like I’m someone’s old Barbie doll? If he has a secret, maybe it’s got something to do with our anniversary. God! I’m about to be married for two years. Except for the baby bullshit, it’s been great. I am really truly blessed and I know most people would kill to be in my shoes.
If the cranberry juice helps, and I believe it has helped in the past, I should keep it around at all times, so that I don’t have to suffer when I get feeling this way. The Gas-X doesn’t really help that much and who knows why the cranberry juice helps. Must be something about the way it mixes with the gases.
The monitor looks so shitty. The colors are all screwy and it’s way too big for the screen. I really hope Tom can get a monitor from Eldon soon enough. Even Tom says he misses using a normal monitor and almost has come to like his black and white one better, rather than having to deal with stripes and blotches of color that shouldn’t be there.
I wonder if next door is gonna take off for the weekend as they have for the past two weekends. A dark-colored car has been parked in the same exact spot deep in the carport for about a week now, even when they’re not home. How do I know it’s there even when no one’s home? Oh, I guess I just sense it. I hear no one coming and going and no sounds at all. When they’re here, I can at least hear them coming and going.
Anyway, I guess we’re gonna leave here tomorrow morning around 8:00 and we’ll probably get back either around late morning or around noon. Then he’s gonna go back out to do their lawn. Then he’ll come home and eat and then we’ll go swimming. If we screw or do anything, let me guess, it’ll happen no earlier than 7:30. Well, if I’m that horny and can’t wait on him, I can at least always take care of myself. Without that, I’d have a real problem, I guess.
What is taking him so long? How crowded can the grocery store be now? Then again, in Phoenix on a Friday night - I’m sure it’s busy enough.
I haven’t been playing Crazy 8’s on the computer too much lately. I don’t like the way it plays for points and how it passes when the deck runs out. Why can’t it reshuffle the deck just like you do when you play with a regular deck of cards?
He should be back any minute, so bye for now!
Later…
Tom returned with the juice. I drank a glass and already I feel so much better. But is it the juice or the Ibuprofen I took about 20 minutes ago? Time will tell.
He doesn’t want me going tomorrow, cuz he doesn’t want me getting sick at the hospital or something like that. He said his parents need him too much to have to take care of me for being sick. He said I need to sleep and take care of myself. I’m so fucking pissed, though, cuz I really wanted to go. Also, there goes our fun weekend and Tom will certainly use this as the perfect excuse to not touch me.
Thanks, God. Thanks, a real fucking lot!
THURSDAY, JUNE 6, 1996 I wish they would just shut the fuck up two yards down! I’m gonna be in for a hell of a winter. I can see that now. Why oh why did they have to move them out back to play? Won’t they just go back out front?! Well, God’s got to give me this in exchange for next door’s quietness. Noise from two houses away is better than from one house away.
Andy left a very nice message this morning wishing Tom’s dad better.
I also spoke to my folks. Ma sounded her usual crabby self and we didn’t talk long. I told Dad I was sorry I wasn’t there to help fit all those candles on the cake and he said it was too late cuz the cake melted, anyway.
Later…
Hey, a mouse just ran under the door to the garage while I was sitting there feeding the birds!
I just talked to Kim and Andy. Kim didn’t have much to say, other than she’s still swamped with doctor’s appointments and wishes I’d move back there so we could swap lives again. When I lived there, of course, she never had any problems, while my asthma, colds, and flues were driving me batty.
Then I talked to Andy who’s harder to talk to. Not cuz he can’t deal with me, but cuz I can’t get a word in edgewise when he talks these days.
The kids have been quiet since their 9:00 screaming match, so that’s nice.
The bee thing really is a bust as I figured, since I really wanted it to work out. I went to trim the hedges with it, but yellow jackets still came around. Just like with in the pool. I thought about trying to conquer my fears of bees, but that’s easier said than done, cuz of the way they’re so stupid and brave and fly right at you. Bees are like moths that fly in your face and fly into your arms and all over you and even land on you and sit there. If bees would just go get their drinks, be terrified of going anywhere near people, and then just leave, maybe I could deal with them but they’re not like that. If I were in the pool and stood still, they’d fly all around my head, then no doubt land on me and sit there for God knows how long.
Tammy won another award at school for getting good grades. They gave her a certificate for dinner for two. I feel like everyone else in the world is succeeding, but us and his parents.
Andy can really relate to some of the things I’ve said. He feels the same way I do as far as other people always seeming to manage to pull themselves out of their ruts and get what they want in the long run. Or happily settle.
The first two years of my being here sure were different than the last two years of my being here. I feel like in the last two years I’ve accomplished nothing, but little stuff. The first two years were full of wonderful changes and surprises. I danced, I met and married Tom, I was reunited with my brother after 8 years, I got off the Theo, I got off disability, I had my ear done, went to Vegas, etc.
This morning Tom told me that I’ve matured so much by not being as selfish. Like that’ll get me anywhere, whether I have or haven’t? He says I’m a great wife and person with the potential to be a good mother. I don’t always feel like a great wife or person, even though I know I’m not a bad wife or person and it doesn’t matter whether I have the potential to be a good mother when there’ll be no kid.
Andy said a therapist or doctor can fix Tom with whichever one of the two problems Tom could have, but I disagree. If he’s lying, a therapist can’t make him tell the truth and if it’s physical, they can’t cure it. Andy said that maybe God wants us to go through some experience together where we have to work things out and deal with whatever his case may be. I doubt it. I don’t think it’s a case of having to be tested, struggle, suffer, and go through fixing and dealing with all kinds of shit before I can have this. I think it’s what I’ve always thought it is. God’s got his mind made up and nothing we do, say, believe, think, feel, or want will change that. God can only test someone for so long. Then it becomes obvious one’s fighting a losing battle and that there is no test involved.
I used to think that homeless people were all druggies and alcoholics that asked for it, but I was almost homeless in the past and I wasn’t a druggie or an alcoholic and I didn’t ask for it. Also, I used to think a loser was someone who didn’t care or want to try for any goals or dreams and who put no effort into achieving anything. So my point is that I feel like a loser by force. I feel like the more I care, want, or try for something, the more God’s gonna see to it that I don’t succeed.
I’m in a weird position too, cuz at the same time I feel like I’m stuck at a standstill and I don’t want to always be a miserable failure, I’m afraid to succeed for fear that my success won’t last very long. I find myself saying to myself, “What’s the point of moving to a bigger more modern house when someone could just come by and burn the place down?” and “What’s the point of getting pregnant when I’d just have a miscarriage?”
Tuesday night when Tom’s dad had that procedure done on his lungs, he was put in intensive care after surgery. Tom was asking me what my vibes were, and I told him he’d be out of there soon and home Friday. Well, he was out of intensive care and put into a regular room as of yesterday, and for his sake, I hope I’m right about him coming home tomorrow.
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 5, 1996 Tom’s father’s in the hospital right now and not doing too well. His lung collapsed and they’re hoping to re-inflate it. He’s gonna stop by the hospital after work and hopefully, things will have improved. I shall pray to God that all goes well with his dad. I know this is something that’s OK to pray for, too.
I knew before, but now I really know - there’s no way Tom will touch me on Saturday. Not only is that a scary day for him for reasons we already know, but he’s gonna have his dad on his mind which is perfectly understandable. What a coincidence that this happens right around mid-cycle with his dad. Especially when this is maybe the first or second time I’ll hit mid-cycle on his day off. Tom can’t control what goes on with his dad, so I see more and more how God’s controlling this situation. But why would God and Tom want Tom to stay away from me during those times when he won’t cum and when God can make sure I’m sterile? It must be just to baffle me.
Later…
Before Tom went to work he told me he felt he was a bad husband cuz he hasn’t given me the attention I need. I thoroughly understand. If I were him and if my father was going through what his father’s going through, I’d have that on my mind, too, and want to be alone or not do much extra stuff. I know he still loves me and he takes care of me just fine. I do miss having sex more often, but I’ve never felt we had sex enough and I never will.
Later…
What the hell are the kids two yards down doing out playing in this kind of heat? Are they playing in a kiddy pool or running through sprinklers? If I can hear a scream here and there now, I can only imagine how much I’ll hear them in the winter when the air is thicker, making sounds louder.
I showed Tom an ad I saw for housekeeping at a hotel. He was reluctant about it, saying he doesn’t think that’s what I want. We’ve already been through this and about how no one really likes their jobs and how I can’t do what I want to do. I’m not gonna sit in this house forever while he falsely promises us a kid every few months. He’s always gonna cum, he doesn’t want to wait on the kid, now’s the perfect time for a kid… Then where is this kid?! I think I can find better things to do with my life, whether I like them or not than listen to him kid me and begging God to change his mind. Fate is fate, whether or not Tom’s lying or whether or not he really believes what he says and doesn’t know any better.
The bee things may work, after all, but being the pessimist I am, I need to give it more time. That one I used yesterday is either broken it its battery is dead. The other one gave off a high, soft pitch, unlike the one I tried yesterday. One might very well be enough, though, if we can’t fix the other one. The one that works is easier to hear at say 9 AM, rather than 1 PM since the hotter air is thinner. It’s harder to hear when it’s hotter.
Later…
I wish my last week’s horoscope was right when it said I was perfectly equipped to excel at whatever I chose to do. I wish this week’s horoscope were right, too, which says: It would seem that you are about to be pleasantly surprised by a close associate or loved one who knows more about a certain matter than you do. Don’t be backward about coming forward - you have more than earned any benefits, bonuses, or rewards that come your way.
My loved one knows more about a certain matter than I do? Well, I always figured that if I didn’t think Tom was bullshitting me about the kid and that it could be a physical problem, maybe I’d think he was waiting, but wouldn’t admit that. I doubt it, though, and if my horoscope has any accuracy, I’d say it had to do with any helpful art info over the computer.
TUESDAY, JUNE 4, 1996 I just talked to Andy for a little while and Tom’s up now, too. He’s eating the spag I made him.
A few days ago, I asked Tom, who’s sure we’ll have a kid, if he’s ever been wrong on something he was so sure of. He said no, not something like this. Did he forget how he was sure I’d be a bad wife when we got married? If he was sure I’d be a bad wife, then how can he not feel sure I’d be a bad mother, too?
Tom’s sworn over and over that his problem isn’t physical. OK, then if it’s psychological, it’s got to be fears, doubts, and worries about having a kid and fears, doubts, and worries about what kind of a mother I’d be. How can it be anything else? How can it be cuz the sky is blue? Or cuz the carpet in here is brown? Or cuz my hair is long? Or cuz he’s into spicy foods?
Later…
I forgot to say that a few days ago, that book club sent me a notice. They’re not gonna send any books till I send half of what I already owe, so no more books from them.
I went through the employment ads and so far I found one possibility for me. Housekeeping at a small hotel in Phoenix. I figured that if this is gonna be my life and all God will allow for me, I better stop worrying about my schedule and take whatever I can get for however long I can hang onto it.
We went on the World Wide Web to check that singer’s thing. So far, we’ve found that it has karaoke music you can buy and stuff like that.
Dreams to Dream is a song of Linda’s from some movie track that I want. I only heard a quick clip of it once and thought it was really beautiful. I’d love to have this song, but first I’ve got to find out what movie it’s from and if I can get a cassette single of it or whatever.
Later…
I know the birds have some nests going in the palm tree across the street, but one has a nest in the tarp out on the patio. There’s a part of the tarp we put up with some of the old rafters covering it, so it’s a fairly shaded area they’re nesting in. I climbed up on a stool and I couldn’t see in, but I could see the mother bird’s head and she looked right at me. I couldn’t see it cuz I’m not tall enough and the bottom of the nest is shaped like a bowl and only a few inches tall before it hits the rafter above it.
Later…
Larry and Sandy sent me a band roster from Agawam High with little Larry’s name listed under percussion.
Larry and Tammy sure have things about their kids to be proud of.
I also got those bee things in the mail and once again, I knew it was too good to be true as with 99.9% of anything I want bad enough. I waited for a bee to come and flicked it on. Instead of flying away, he got a drink and then charged at me, so I ran.
Why do I bother trying for anything I want? I realize more and more that getting pregnant would be scarier than a blessing. Not just for reasons I’ve already stated, but cuz I’d no doubt have a miscarriage, so what would be the point of getting all psyched up for nothing? Also, I may feel empty and purposeless, but due to life being negative and positive, getting pregnant would be just swapping one misery for another. Instead of feeling empty and missing out on a child, I’d just be tired, fighting more with Tom, I’d lose my life and I know what my body would feel like and look like, too.
What’s the point? Shouldn’t we just remain as we are and be happy with what we’ve got and can do and can have? Is it really necessary to change our lives when it’s not to save our lives or fix/end a crisis?
There’s something else I realized, too. Seeing a doctor in ‘97 is only gonna make us look desperate. Those who see fertility doctors are desperate, and is that any good to be any more than a person who’s dying to get laid? It’s not good by your average person’s standards to be desperate for love or sex and the average person really sees anyone who goes to a dating service as desperate. Therefore, isn’t seeing a fertility doctor desperate? And does it show an unhealthy obsession? Isn’t it wrong for a person to really, really want something bad?
MONDAY, JUNE 3, 1996 I just went out back and at this point, the sun’s illuminating the patio. There were tons of webs. Yuck! Tom killed most of them.
Last night I made two new bracelets that are pretty cool. They’re designed differently than I’ve ever designed any bracelet or another piece of jewelry. One’s got two different colors, purple and pink, and they rotate and are linked from their two different strands here and there with clear beads. The other’s got 4 strands of beads in pink, orange, blue, and green with black beads along the way after every 10 beads or so. I twisted it before putting it on and it looks really cool.
It’s already 70º out and by the next few days, the pool will not only be comfy at 3 PM, but at 3 AM as well. That’s nice to know since my schedule will always be erratic.
We have to order a new part for the vacuum since I was stupid enough not to remove my hair from its brush regularly.
Tom’s showering now, and then he’ll be off to work.
Soon, I’ll be firing up the computer to check for email and whatever else I decide to do. Whoever sent me an email from the singer’s website still remains a mystery. Guess it was either random or a mistake.
Later…
The dogs were going off and I was like, what the fuck?! It’s Monday. Mondays and Thursdays are when the garbage truck comes and they go off. See? That’s how I know they must be guard dogs. Not just cuz they’re outside 24/7, but cuz they always bark at the garbage truck and by now you’d think they should be plenty used to them like the M’s dog got used to shit going on around here. There would be only two reasons the M’s dog would bark after it settled down. Either cuz of some new or different sound or a presence or cuz the M’s neglected the dog and barely paid any attention to it. They probably couldn’t get the time with all those kids.
How can kids play around guard dogs like they did that day when they were on the monkey bars? The dogs must’ve either been tied up away from the kids or the kids were introduced to them to let them know they weren’t intruders. That’s what Anna and Harry did with me with their guard dog at LaRagiones. Otherwise, Max would’ve killed me.
Wow. It’s already 93º and they say it’ll be 110º today. I thought it was only supposed to be 108º today and 110º tomorrow. Yesterday when it was 103º and about 11:00, I couldn’t fucking believe it. I heard kids scream on and off for a little while and automatically assumed it had to be two yards down, but then it occurred to me that the people behind us, who have a pool, could’ve had their grandkids over. I doubt it, though. It was probably two yards down. I really think they’re Mormons too. I can see two of the symptoms of being Mormon that they seem to have always had. They’ve probably got no less than 4 or 5 kids and they’re home 24/7. I wouldn’t be surprised if they home-teach their kids like the M’s did.
Lucky for me it’s summer now, but of course, I wonder how it’ll be next winter. Will they be on their monkey bars 24/7 and now be using their backyard to play in? Will the welfare bums party outdoors with their music and basketball? What kind of dogs could the assholes have, and will their kid be out screaming holy hell as it gets older?
I know we’re not moving for several years yet. It’s kind of obvious unless we win the lottery. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if we were still here in the 2000s. Therefore, I have to be like a military person. On-call to take care of any bullshit, while I hope to hell I don’t have to deal with any that I’ve got to take care of.
Another thing Tom said to me the other day was that I’d be spoiled if I didn’t have a kid cuz that’s what he wants.
Uh-huh. And what does he preventing us from having the kid I wanted make him? A saint? I don’t think so. It’s just as easy for me to say, how fucking rude, cruel, and selfish of him. You can’t make someone have a kid just cuz you want one. You can’t do that any more than you can tell someone you want one and will have one with them when you know you won’t. I may want one, but that statement was a major turn-off to the idea for a while. Good, though, cuz it’s just what I needed. If I don’t bring it up, I hope and think he’ll forget about the kid idea for a while. At least I need not worry that he’ll cum cuz of the risk of it, but also cuz of the way it probably stinks and will surely make a mess.
I’m happy to say that I got over my shitty emotional spell much quicker than I thought. I’m back to telling myself - fuck what others think or believe. I know what I can and can’t do and I know and understand myself and fuck the rest of the world, other than Tom and myself.
Other than that I’m not doing much and am coming to the end of my day.
I keep telling myself to work out and to stick to it this time, but that’s easier said than done. My weight’s up a bit. Just over 100 and I may go on a diet. I may end up taking that Slim-Fast and just dealing with how dairy upsets my stomach. I’ve got to cut down on granola bars and eat more stuff like tuna fish.
Tom’s dad really has to go through hell this week. They’re admitting him to the hospital for at least two days. They’ve got to spray cornstarch and talcum powder into his lungs to make them bleed. Then, hope they heal and that the lungs stick to the chest cavity. Gross and painful!
I hear my birds out there and I suppose they want some seed, so I guess I’ll go feed them now.
SUNDAY, JUNE 2, 1996 I wish to hell I was one of those who could write when I was mad, tired, sad, or whatever so that I could do so when my thoughts were still fresh in my head.
Kim called while I was asleep. She talked to Tom and told him she saw Gloria in Boston. It was at an outdoor place with other bands. Hope she liked her and I’ll be waiting to hear from her about that.
Yesterday when I checked my email, there was a message from the singer’s website containing info about performances and more. The note said, heard you like to sing, check this out, etc. This is why I thought it was someone who knows me and knows I sing and not randomly sent to me. Tom says it could’ve been randomly sent or maybe Alex or Tammy put my name on a mailing list. Alex confirmed that he didn’t send it like I thought he didn’t and there’s no way Tammy would send it. Who knows then? Anyway, Tom and I will check it out one of these years.
Tom says missionary position is the best and that there’s no comparison to how good that feels to the old position. I still feel he isn’t that eager to do it more or that he wants to do it for too long at a time. His parents are really bad off now and even if he really does want a kid, I think his subconscious isn’t gonna allow him to do anything about that now cuz of his parents, money, and all kinds of shit going on in life. If he doesn’t have a problem, then he still may not want a kid deep down in his subconscious and maybe he feels he’s protecting me. He knows how much I value my sleep, not being too fat, how sensitive I am, and more. And of course, there’s God too, and his plans for me which I still say are no plans.
I asked Tom why he implied he didn’t want a kid when we first met and what made him change his mind and be so sure he wants one now. He said that cuz he wasn’t really in a position to have one when we first met, it kind of turned him off of the idea, but now that he is, he’s into it. I wish I was like that. I wish I could say I didn’t like the idea of having a kid or a schedule or of quitting smoking since I can’t and or am not in a position to do so.
I also asked him, if he thought dancing was a loser job, then why did he get to know me? He said cuz I hadn’t been dancing for a year and that I seemed like I wanted something else. Something more.
Tammy called me a couple of days ago to tell me how proud she was of Lisa’s solo that she did in concert and that she’ll be sending us a video. I am very, very happy for Lisa, Tammy, and the rest of the family and very proud too, but this sparked all kinds of bad and unwanted emotions on my part and made me really bummed out for a while there. I was overrun with feelings of jealousy, depression, and just not being good enough. I haven’t had problems with feelings of jealousy or being self-conscious or worrying about what people think of me for a good 10 years now, but lately, these feelings have been apparent. I know it’s uncool to feel jealous and to worry about what others think of me as a person or what they think of things I do and that all that should matter is what my husband and I think, feel, or want. I found myself riddled with jealousy and wishing I could put all this time and energy I’ve got into having a kid, making a difference in its life, being proud of it, and wanting to show it off to others and tell all about things it can do. I hate God for taking this away from me.
Tammy didn’t say so, but knowing her, her tone said that I couldn’t sing well enough for anyone to give a shit or praise it in any way. Then, feelings about my family labeling me a nut, and stupid or not, came flying into my head left and right. I tried to tell myself not to feel jealous and that my family will never really give a shit about me or be proud of me. Also, they’re just too set in their ways to ever think I’m more than just a so-so singer even if I were suddenly a 10+. I know I’m not a great singer, but I still feel that they’ll never really give a damn about my singing, drawing, signing or anything else. All they really care about or want to hear about is stuff they can relate to themselves or just trivial stuff like the weather.
I know I shouldn’t give a shit what my family thinks and I know I shouldn’t be jealous of anyone, but it’s hard to help at times. I know we all have our bad times where we feel stuck in a rut and can’t get anything we want, but it seems that others always find a way out of their ruts and into their dreams or goals in the long run, whereas I stay right where I am. I know I’m blessed for being able to live here and for being married to Tom and that’s 1st best to me, but I know this is it. This is where the first bests stop and where the rest of my dreams and goals remain just that. Dreams, goals, fantasies, and desires, but never a reality.
I always said Tammy was a lousy mom and in a lot of ways I’d still say that, but I think it’s great that she’s proud of Lisa and that she’s encouraging her. Our mother never encouraged us whether we were good at something or not. I believe parents should encourage their kids to do stuff they like even if they aren’t good at it, cuz there’s always a chance, be it slim or great, that they’ll improve or even excel at something they weren’t very good at.
I tell myself I should be happy with what I do have, stop complaining, and stop being miserable so much, but in the end, the stubborn selfish person that I can be comes out crying all miserable over what she can’t have, do, or be like a spoiled rotten kid.
Later…
It’s gonna be a scorcher today. I’ve got the phone right next to me, so I’ll call for today’s high.
We just played Crazy 8’s on the computer in which I kicked his ass.
It’s currently 87º and the high will be 107º. It’s gonna be 108º on Monday and 110º on Tuesday. Why are they calling that unseasonably warm? It’s supposed to be this hot in June.
Before playing cards, we screwed. We began on our sideways one, as he led us to this position. He had a head start, meaning he was already hard to begin with and seemed close to cumming even as I warmed him up. So I thought to myself, shit. He’s so close that he may never go on top if I don’t ask him to.
So he went on top, but not for long. Afterward, he seemed bummed, even though he said he was just tired. However, I could swear his expression was saying, shit. I’m so much closer on top that I may lose it. Now I’ve got to worry about that which sucks.
Why don’t I just know with every ounce of my heart and mind that Tom won’t cum on top? Why don’t I feel he won’t? Because he won’t. No way in hell will he.
I sometimes do look ahead and ask myself where I think I’ll be in life in the fall, for example, but then I have to shake myself back to earth. I have to tell myself, come on now. You’ll be right where you are today and you know it.
Last night the cat/dog calendar in the living room fell apart, so I took apart the dog calendar in the kitchen too. Then I tore down those watercolor paintings I had in the living room and redecorated that area with them (dogs & cats) and the front door, too. I made a new calendar since 1996 isn’t over.
Later…
I was quite annoyed the other night. I was trying to draw a mouse from a design on a pad Kim sent and I just couldn’t do it. It was a simple little outline I was gonna shade and define and color in. I’ve done several others similar to this, but I just couldn’t cut it with this one. So I was telling Tom how I feel that the only thing I can always do is flowers. I wish I could do people, animals, and a wide variety of things whenever I choose to. He told me, though, that that’s normal and all artists have one thing they specialize in. Then he told me about a famous artist who painted the same mountain 175 times.
He also said something I disagree with about a totally different subject. He said if you do your best to achieve what you want, things are guaranteed to work out.
Yeah, right!
0 notes
Text
Heatwave
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: The air conditioning is out at the BAU, so things get very hot—in more ways than one. Category: Smut 18+ (penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie / minor breeding kink, sex in an elevator) Warnings: Sex, language (As always, if there’s anything I missed, please let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 3.7k
MASTERLIST
***
"Oh, fuck, that's it!"
The exclamation nearly knocked Spencer off his feet. He would know her voice anywhere, so he didn't have to look to know that it was Y/N, but he looked anyway, sure enough spotting her on the opposite end of the bullpen, sorting through files at her desk.
If Hotch was any closer, he would have given her a warning look to signal his distaste for her swearing in the office, but his door was shut while he talked with someone so it never came.
"Wha—what did you find?" Spencer got out after clearing his throat to compose himself. It was bad enough he had already been distracted by her before, thinking about what it would be like to feel her hands weaved through his hair as she kissed him, but then she had to say that sentence of all things, slightly enhancing the fantasy.
It also didn't help that the air conditioning in the building was currently out, and in the middle of August. So when he looked up, he saw a low-cut, baby pink tank top with lace detailing on the hem, and a pulled-up hairdo that perfectly exposed her neck, which was currently glistening in a thin sheen of sweat. The way she leaned back in her chair, her legs crossed under a loose, knee-length floral skirt as she mulled over her file was giving him too many bad ideas, and it was a wonder he hadn't been caught or called out yet—everyone could always tell when he was thinking or off in his own world.
"Oh," Y/N said, briefly craning her head to meet his eyes. It took everything he had not to shudder when their gazes finally met. "I just misplaced one of my files, that's all. I was afraid I'd lost it. But it's right here," she said with a nervous laugh. "I didn't... bother you did I?"
"Oh! N—no, you didn't bother me at all, I... I was just wondering, that's all. I—I'm glad you found your file." He hated that he stumbled over his words, but when she looked at him like that, that sickeningly sweet kindness in her eyes that never wavered when she talked to him, he couldn't help it. She was easily the most intimidatingly angelic presence he'd ever met, in every capacity possible.
Even as she quickly frowned and shifted slightly in her chair, her eyes didn't lose that sparkle. But it was still evident that she was uncomfortable, so Spencer spoke again. "Are you okay?"
She set the file down on her desk and sat up straighter, bringing her back up off the chair as she uncrossed her legs. "Yeah, I'm fine, it's just the heat. I hate it. I'm definitely more of a cold, rainy day-type of girl, I guess."
Odd, considering you're just about the warmest soul I've ever met, he thought. Even as she talked about her distaste for the heat, she kept her voice light and her eyes kind.
"Hmm," is all he said, shortly and barely loud enough for her to hear.
The rest of the day seemed to pass by rather quickly, which Spencer was thankful for; the longer the day moved forward, the hotter it got, and it proved to be more distracting than he wanted to admit.
But soon he would be able to go home and take a cold shower, for one thing to cool off, but for another to relieve some of this feeling Y/N had been making him feel. He tried really hard throughout the day not to look at her, but he always found himself drawn to her anyway, and each time it happened he thought of dirtier and dirtier things, scenarios that he was positive could only happen in his wildest dreams.
But as usual, things didn't seem to work in his favor today. Just as he and Y/N were about to get onto the elevator, Hotch walked by, calling to them. "Sorry to ask you guys of this, but could you stay another hour or two? There are more files I need to get sorted, and I know it's hot, so I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but it would be helpful if I had an extra set of hands."
Two more hours at most, he could manage that, right? And at least he'd have more files to keep him occupied, something to focus on.
Hotch sent them to the file room with a list of the files he needed, and then it was just the two of them, stepping onto the elevator and sealing their fate.
It wasn't four seconds after the elevator started moving that it stopped and the lights inside dimmed red.
"Wait, what's happening?" Y/N asked, slightly panicked.
Spencer was just as puzzled. "I... I'm not sure. Maybe it has something to do with the heat?"
About a minute passed before she sighed, shoving her phone in her bag. "Yeah. Just got a text from Garcia, the power in the building shut down so they could fix the air conditioning. It's gonna take like a half hour."
"A—A half hour? Really?" He tried not to show how nervous it made him, but truthfully he didn't think it would work.
Y/N sighed. "Yeah... It's... fine, though, I mean, maybe someone will try to get us out."
"But we're in between two floors..."
Another sigh. "And it's hot as hell in here. Great... So much for going home early."
Spencer snuck a glance over at her, almost immediately regretting it when he looked her over. Under the deep red glow of the emergency lights, she looked absolutely sinful. Her bag was dropped on the ground and she leaned against the wall, her arms crossed and pushing up her breasts. Her head was leaned back and her eyes closed as she took deep breaths, no doubt trying to stay as calm as one could be in this situation. He noticed every breath she took, her chest rising and falling and her skin glowing. And in that moment he embarrassingly felt something stir in his lower stomach, only made worse by the fact that it was, as she'd phrased it, 'hot as hell' in the elevator. He was hot and practically squirming as he stood there, ogling Y/N like she was the only woman he'd ever seen before.
As if it couldn't get any worse, she opened her eyes quickly and caught him staring at her chest. He didn't seem to notice because, well, his eyes were elsewhere, so she closed them once more and smirked to herself for the briefest of seconds, an idea striking her brain like a match.
She brought her arms to slowly un-cross and stretch outwards to her sides, arching her back and puffing out her chest as she gripped the rail of the elevator. The moment she opened her eyes, she saw that Spencer's head was directed pointedly to the floor. She smiled a little, keeping her arms stretched out across the rail as she took him in.
The first thing she took notice of was how his hair stuck to his face, wavy and damp with sweat. His fingers tapped against his legs, and that's what she looked at the longest. Every time his middle finger tapped the outside of his thigh, she imagined that he was doing it to her clit, and she could practically feel it throb to the slow, steady beat of his finger. Her hands gripped the rail tighter and she crossed her legs, contemplating whether or not she should take advantage of this moment to finally do something about this tension she'd been feeling between them for the past year and a half.
The truth is, she'd always had a crush on him since they started working together. But when she started her job at the BAU, he was... a little odd. Every time she would join in conversation, he'd made it a point to look almost inconvenienced by her presence. At first she had to wonder if maybe he just didn't like her. And if that was the case, she didn't want to make it worse by asking him about it, so she left it alone. But then she noticed how he was like that with everyone, and then over time he seemed to get better. Eventually he warmed up to her and the two of them became fast friends. He'd quickly transformed from a guy who always seemed annoyed with everyone and into the adorably shy, brilliant man everyone had told her he was when she first got the job.
Now there had been almost two years' worth of a different kind of tension between them, and in this moment in the elevator, Y/N wanted to do something about it. Or at least try.
She thought for a moment, trying to find the best way to bring it up. Should she be straightforward? You know, flat-out tell him that she's liked him for a long time and wanted to kiss his face off? Or did she want to have more fun with it? Because she admittedly loved seeing him get flustered every time he noticed her noticing him staring at her, but if he really didn't feel the same way, she didn't want to come on too strong and ruin this thing they'd built.
Ultimately, Y/N decided to try a little of both.
She cleared her throat to catch his attention. "Hey, Spence?"
When he looked up at her, his stomach flipped again. Fuck, she was just so breathtaking, her arms spread and her legs crossed like she was the queen of the elevator and he was trespassing just by being there. Her chin was tilted upwards, exposing more of her neck, and it almost made him fall over. "Y—Yeah?" he stammered quietly, trying and failing to sound calm.
"What should we do to pass the time? I'm bored."
If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn he she was suggesting they— No. There was no way. He'd been a total jerk to her when they first met, and even though they were much friendlier now, Spencer wasn't sure she could ever want to do anything like that with him.
Right?
"Um... I—I don't know. Your phone works, doesn't it? Do you, um... Do you have anything you could do there?"
She shrugged, tilting her head to the side. "Battery's almost dead, and I want to save it in case something happens and we get stuck in here for longer than thirty minutes... I was thinking, actually... We haven't really gotten to know each other that well, and maybe would play... like 20 Questions or something."
"Oh..." He swallowed, shifting on his feet and blinking. "Well, um... W—what do you want to know?"
"Hmm... Favorite color?" She knew it was purple, but she wanted to hear him talk. Get him comfortable.
"Purple. What's yours?"
She leaned forward off the rail a little, and Spencer swallowed again, suddenly feeling a burst of warmth through his body.
"Light pink," Y/N said softly, "like so light that it's almost white."
He glanced down at her chest again, only for a moment to take in her shirt, which he'd remembered was the same color.
She continued. "What's your favorite snack food?"
"Pretzels."
"Me, too. Hmm... Favorite candle scent?"
"Peppermint."
"Spearmint. Favorite Star Wars movie?"
"Return of the Jedi."
"A New Hope. Favorite sex position?"
"Doggy."
She didn't say another word.
He wasn't even aware of the situation until about five seconds later, when she raised an eyebrow at him and his whole world came crumbling down.
As he visibly struggled to find words, Y/N only continued in conversation. "That surprises me. I would have thought you'd be more of a cowgirl guy."
If the way her voice sounded when she talked to him was the handle, then the way her eyes bore into his own was the blade, both of them coming together to create the weapon that would be his ultimate demise. The only thing missing was that twist of the blade, the one that would make sure he was gone for good, and the moment she leaned completely off the railing and took a small step towards him, he realized that final ingredient was her touch. If she touched him, he was done for.
"Aren't you gonna ask me what mine is? That's how the game works."
There's no way she wasn't flirting with him... Right? He was never good at picking up on those kinds of things, but she was being so obvious about it, stepping closer and closer to him with her chest puffed out and her head tilted to the side to reveal her neck. She was inviting him in, right? Especially after asking him to ask her that question.
That question...
Right.
"Um..." Spencer swallowed before speaking, his voice barely discernible. "What's... y—your favorite sex position?"
"Doggy. Especially standing up," she said with what was most definitely a flirty smile. "Looks like you and I have quite a bit in common."
"Y—yeah, I guess we... do..."
By now she had him backed against the other side of the elevator, and as soon as he felt his back hit the rail, he swallowed again, bringing his hand up to the collar of his shirt to relieve some of the heat he was feeling.
It didn't work, unsurprisingly.
"Look, if... If I'm overstepping, you should tell me. But I've liked you for a long time, and I feel like I'd be dumb to waste the perfect opportunity to tell you... So... The elevator probably won't be fixed for another twenty minutes at least, and since we're already on the subject... Maybe we should find another way to pass the time?"
Spencer noticed that she was careful not to actually touch him unless he gave her the go-ahead, and if anything it made him want her even more. She was giving him an out, and he knew that if he told her 'no', she wouldn't push it.
But here she was, in all her beautiful, radiant glory, practically inviting him to indulge in some of his biggest fantasies, and he would have to be brain-dead to pass that up. Even if he was a little nervous.
He tried to give her permission in a way that didn't make himself come off as some obsessed admirer, a shaky, breathy laugh exhaling from his throat before he spoke. "Well, it's already hot as hell in here, so... What's a little more heat?"
At first he regretted saying it, scared it was stupid and most definitely a mood-killer, but the way she practically lunged at him completely washed away all the worries written in the sand. And when her body pressed firmly against his, her lips coming to capture his in the most burning kiss he'd ever had, the waves crashed even stronger, loud with searing desire as warm as the August sun.
Immediately he brought his hands to cradle her face, loving the way he almost engulfed her with their size. He moved his lips against hers eagerly as her hands worked at unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt. She only got the first few done before pulling away, and despite the heat, Spencer felt cold without her pressed up against him.
It took a moment for him to realize what was happening, but when she suddenly turned them both around and bent forward, leaning out to grab the rail, he felt warm again.
She turned her head around to look at him with a smile through a bit bottom lip as she reached one of her hands under her skirt and slowly pulled her panties down. Almost as soon as they hit the floor, pooling around her ankles, she lifted the skirt up and revealed herself to him, slowly running her fingers through her pussy.
"It's all yours, Doctor Reid," she said lowly, spreading her legs as far as they could go with her panties still confining her ankles.
He hadn't even realized he'd undone his pants until they were at his feet and his dick was in his hand. How had she managed to have that great of an affect on him?
He promptly decided he didn't care how, as he stepped forward and brought himself up to her ass and ran the head of his cock through her pussy, briefly meeting her fingers as he did so. "Are you sure?" he asked. Because once he started, he wouldn't be able to stop. He already lost his mind just being in her presence, but being this close to her, fucking her in a broken elevator would surely hinder his ability to think about anything rationally, let alone at all.
"Fuck me, please," she all but begged, pushing herself back a little to encourage him. Either that or she was just desperate, though there was a good chance it was both.
In any case, that was all he needed, the trigger that set him off, and within seconds he was plunged deep inside her, the both of them softly moaning out at how it felt.
Spencer set a steady pace, his hands firmly gripping her waist as she pushed back to meet his every move. Each thrust forward was another twist of the blade that sealed his fate, only made more brutal by the pure filth that dripped from Y/N's lips, a symphony of long, drawn out moans and curses that sounded just as loving as they did pornographic.
When she bent forward even more, so much that he could see her hands outstretched on the rail, it gave him the deepest angle he could possibly be at, and she clenched herself around him, calling out his name.
"Fuck, Y/N, keep doing that," Spencer breathed out, shutting his eyes at the sensation.
He could hear her laugh a little. "That feel good, baby? Huh, you like when my pussy clings to you?"
Each word was fuel that quickened his pace inside of her, and joined with the way his hands were wrapped around her, the very tips of his fingers felt her stomach bulge at every snap of his hips. He spread his right hand across her lower stomach to feel it, groaning out as he did.
He didn't even realize he'd said his next words out loud, but after she groaned out and clenched around him tighter, he knew she'd heard and liked what he was saying.
"God, I wanna cum inside you so fucking bad..."
She turned her head again to see him as best as she could, doing the most to come off as desperate as she felt. "Fuck, Spence, do it, please, I want your cum inside me, please..."
A few more quick thrusts inside of her was enough to make her cum, her mouth open in a silent scream as she stopped moving back against him and just let him pound into her. He followed closely behind, brokenly moaning out her name as he stilled and pulsated inside of her.
"Ohh, that's it," she said to him with wonder as she stayed clamped tightly around him, trying to get every last drop. "Fuck, that feels so fucking good..."
In a moment of blind lust at her words, Spencer pulled out just until only the tip was inside, before quickly and deeply fucking into her once more, holding himself inside for about five seconds as she cried out. He repeated that so many times he couldn't keep count. Or maybe it was only two times, and he was just to drunk on her to notice. However long he did it for, they both relished in the feeling before they were both overstimulated and out of breath.
While any other time he would have loved to see his cum drip down her legs, since they were at work he decided to lift her panties up instead, relishing in the way she whimpered when they were on all the way. He made sure to pull them up tight, so she could feel his cum soak them as she stood upwards.
He scrambled to put his pants back on as she caught her breath, leaning against the wall of the elevator with her legs crossed and her eyes closed. He watched her intently as her hand drifted under her skirt and rubbed herself through her underwear, letting out whimpers and ragged breaths upon feeling what he'd done to her. The sweat that had just started to form on her body earlier due to the heat was now dripping down her neck and over her chest, and he was once again mesmerized by her.
"God, you're beautiful," he whispered aloud. Of course he'd meant to say it to himself in his head, but he wasn't thinking straight. She'd utterly wrecked him.
Y/N opened her eyes and smiled, taking him in as well. His hair was wild, all over the place and just as sexy as she'd found it before. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, no thanks to her, revealing a glistening chest and making her pussy throb once more, knowing what they'd just done and how... hot the whole situation was, for lack of a better term.
As if she needed a reminder, more of his cum seeped into the fabric of her underwear, warm and ever present, which made her bite her lip and sigh. "Yep... Doggy is definitely my favorite position."
"Especially standing up," he added, a small smile adorning his lips.
They laughed as the elevator lights came back on, and the weight of what they'd just done came crashing down as with it.
Y/N shuffled to the other side of the elevator to grab her back, almost gasping at the way his cum felt in her panties when she moved. She was afraid it would come out, but there was nothing she could do to stop it except for hope.
The two of them were quiet when the door opened and Garcia met them in the lobby.
"Oh, thank God! I feel so bad I didn't warn you in time before you got stuck in th— Your faces are all red, geez! Was it really that hot in there?"
Thankfully the heatwave gave them both an alibi.
"Y—Yeah," Spencer said with a nod, stepping out of the elevator. "That's twice now I've been stuck in an elevator, and I really wish it would stop happening."
The girls laughed as the three of them made their way to cooler air.
Spencer and Y/N fell in step behind their friend and shared a knowing look as the approached the file room.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid#criminal minds fanfiction
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
You Just Wait
gif is from @twilightofficial
A/N: The hardest part of writing a fic is honestly choosing the love interest XD I have so many fictional boyfriends it’s hard to choose just one. I have noticed a significant lack of Jared Cameron content and he’s super adorable so here it is! Also, I left the concept a little bit more vague so more people can relate to it. It doesn’t specifically say vaginismus, it’s more of a general “sex doesn’t normally go well for me” type thing.
Bottomless, covered in chocolate sauce, walking through the woods, phone dead, in the middle of August on a weekday. How did you end up here? Jared Cameron. Your boyfriend. He had roped you in to an elaborate prank on Paul that hadn’t exactly gone as planned. Needless to say, you were desperate for a shower and a nap. A hot meal wouldn’t hurt. And you were beyond irritated, not even looking Jared’s way as he walked next to you in a similar state.
“Babe, if you let me carry you, we’ll get home way faster,” he whined.
You didn’t respond, only walking with more frustration around the roots and fallen trees. It was growing dark, just about twilight, and you knew you wouldn’t be reaching either of your houses at this rate. You were miles into the forest. But your pride kept you from accepting Jared’s wolfy-back ride, because he tended to make lots of jokes about being between your legs and you riding him and blah blah blah, and you honestly might punch him right now if he did that.
So you just kept ignoring him, arms folded tightly against your chest because, yes, it was August, but this was also the Washington coast. It got pretty chilly no matter what time of year it was.
“I can see you shivering from here,” he pleaded, almost sounding in pain at the thought of you being uncomfortable. “It’s only gonna get colder. Let me help you.”
You ignored him.
“C’mooonnnnnn,” he cried. His preferred way of cracking your silence was usually by annoying you out of it, and it was working. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon c’m-”
“Jared, I swear to God!”
“Aha! She speaks!” he laughed.
“”Only to tell you to be quiet, or I’ll-”
“Or you’ll what?” he cut you off. “I’m way stronger than you!” He was teasing you into talking to him. Even if it was in the form of arguing. Damn, he always got you to crack. You stopped walking, turning to face him, arms still held tightly around yourself. You couldn’t resist a good bicker, and Jared knew that. He would get the sass to come out, and then once you got tired, he’d apologize and you’d be made up within half an hour. That’s what always happened. And you couldn’t exactly stay mad at those big brown puppy eyes for long.
“Physically, maybe,” you chided, “but I’m definitely way smarter than you.”
He stepped closer to you, a playful smirk on his face. “What, are you gonna read me to death or something?”
“I’m gonna strategize a huge plan, manipulate you, and leave you here in the forest by yourself. That’s what I’m gonna do,” you sassed. He never took arguments to heart, which is one thing you loved about him. He knew how grumpy you could get and would let you vent, and then make you forget all about the problem.
“Oh, okay, yeah sure,” he giggled, hands going up in defense. “I’m just saying that in this situation, there is no way you come out on top. You run, I catch you. You hide, I sniff you out,” he teased. This made you crack an almost imperceptible smile, but one he noticed nonetheless. “And if you did somehow manage to get away from me, you’d freeze to death in an hour flat.” The cold breeze that caused you to shiver more violently could not have had worse timing. Obviously, Jared noticed, and his face dropped. He approached you slowly, silently asking if you were still mad enough to not let him touch you. When you didn’t step back or stop him, he wrapped both his arms around you and brought you into a huge bear hug. You sighed at his warmth, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso. He’d given you his hoodie hours ago, and was left in only a pair of shorts, though he didn’t seem to notice. Damn him and his werewolf heat.
You still shivered in his arms, but his feverish temperature was a relief to your aching bones.
“See? Could’ve been warm hours ago,” he teased once again, noting your clinginess.
“Shut up. I’m still mad,” you mumbled into his neck. He laughed softly to himself, rubbing his hands up and down your body to create more heat. After a few minutes, you were starting to struggle to keep your eyes open. It had to be close to 2 in the morning, and you’d been walking for what felt like hours. Jared could have easily run home and let you brood alone, but he stuck with you no matter how long you went without speaking to him.
“Sleepy?” he murmured into your hair. You just nodded softly, and didn’t protest as he bent down, one hand going behind your knees and the other staying around your back. He picked you up with ease and started walking through the woods once more with an “Okay Princess, I got you.” His stride never faltered, easily avoiding tripping over roots or slipping on rain-soaked moss. He must have been walking for about 30 minutes, never so much as breathing hard or shifting you in his grip. You didn’t sleep, but welcomed the rest he allowed you. Your eyes were closed, head resting on his shoulder when you felt him stop. You looked up, and in the distance, maybe 50 yards away, you saw a small building.
“Hunter’s cabin, I’m guessing. No one’s home,” Jared stated, anticipating your questions.
“Think there’ll be blankets?” you wondered, tired, yet still playful.
“What, am I not enough for you?” he feigned mock hurt as you giggled at his unshakeable good attitude. Without another word, he began walking towards the small cabin, which was about the size of an average bedroom. When you reached the door, he set you down gently, holding his hands close to your waist while you found your footing, and then wrapping an arm over your shoulders to keep you warm.
“I’m assuming it’s locked,” you sighed, disappointed.
“Babe, no door is locked when you have super strength. Honestly, I thought you’d have more faith in me by now,” he smiled brightly.
“You can’t just go around kicking random people’s doors in!” you scolded.
“Okay, first of all, I can tell by the smell that no one’s been here in years. Second of all, how would anyone know it was us that broke in and not, like, a deer? And third of all, I’d say this counts as an emergency,” he sassed right back at you. You looked at him in annoyance, too tired and cold to actually care.
After a long sigh, you muttered “fine.”
He immediately turned to the door, not letting you so much as inhale before he slammed his foot into the space next to the knob, the door all but flying off its hinges. The whole scene caused deafening noise that interrupted the silence of the trees.
“Jesus!” you called out in surprise, a hand shooting up to your pounding heart. You look around, though knowing no one was around for miles. Jared only turned to look at you, a cheeky smile adorning his face, and said,
“See? Told ya.”
You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the loving and admiring energy that overcame you. Jared really was one in a million, and you were lucky to be by his side. He could be in the worst situation in the world and still find something to laugh about.
He motioned for you to go in first, ever the gentleman. Walking through the door, the first thing you noticed was the dust. The entire inside of the cabin was covered in a thick layer of it. There was a small, rickety couch with cushions so worn they had holes in them throughout. And the fabric… my God. It looked like something from the 60’s, an obnoxious floral that had faded over time, and now just looked flat out stained. There was a flimsy throw blanket over the back of the couch, a cooler in the corner of the room that was covered in dirt, and on the opposite wall, a fireplace! No wood, no matches, but it was there. The floor was scattered with bullet shells, receipts, and decayed leaves. It was obvious no one had been in here for at least 3 or 4 years.
“Okay, I can work with this,” Jared said. You really were jealous of his optimism. But, as disgusting as this place was, it beat the frigid breeze of outside, and had a place where you could rest your heads. You walked over to the couch, grabbing the blanket and beating the dust off of it. It was really only meant for one person, but you guys were okay with getting close. It would do.
Jared walked over to the opposite corner where the cooler sat by the fireplace and opened the lid, peeking inside.
“Just water,” he said, sounding almost disappointed.
“Were you really gonna eat whatever was in there?” you spoke incredulously.
“Babe, I’m starving. You have no idea how close I am to licking that chocolate sauce off of you,” he voiced. You had almost forgotten about the sticky sauce that covered both of your clothes. That prank really was a disaster. You looked down, face heating at the thought of Jared’s mouth on you like that, and turned to the fireplace where he stood. He was looking on the mantle, oblivious to the effect his comment had on you, and exclaimed “Aha!” before reaching up to grab something. “A lighter. We’re saved! Well, you are,” he laughed looking over at your shivering form once more. “Stay here and get comfy. I’m gonna go get some wood.”
You tried your best, sitting on the edge of the couch and immediately feeling a spring poking you in the butt. The couch really was tiny. You guys were gonna have to bundle up close to fit. The thought excited you. Sure, you and Jared had always been comfortable touching and holding each other, but there were certain areas of your relationship you had yet to explore. More… intimate areas. It was your fault mostly. To make a long story short, you’ve just never enjoyed sex. You found yourself not able to get aroused, which made things painful. Sure, you wanted to. You’d thought about it a ton. But in the moment, your head was so full of thoughts of ‘What if he thinks I’m ugly? What if I smell? Am I doing this right? Is he having a good time? Am I taking too long?’ that you just stopped trying. And obviously you wanted to have sex with Jared, but you were worried he’d be disappointed. By the time he got back, just a few minutes later, you had brought your knees up to your chest, holding your legs close in an effort to preserve warmth.
“Doing okay Sweetheart?” he asked gently. You gave a small smile and nodded in response. He plopped the logs in his arms down into the fireplace, scavenging the floor for receipts, dried leaves, anything that would catch fire. He dumped these into the fireplace and lit them, the fire catching within seconds. He walked over to the other side of the room where the couch was before bending down, grabbing the bottom lip of it, and pulling it (and you) across the floor, one-handed, and closer to the fire. “Better?” You had always been in awe of his strength. Let’s be honest, it was just plain sexy. Again, you just nodded your head, staring at him in adoration.
He sat beside you on the couch, throwing an arm over your shoulders again, and leaning back, taking you with him. You cuddled into his side, watching the fire.
“Ya know, if you take away the shitty couch and sticky clothes and add a few more blankets, this would actually be pretty nice,” he finally spoke.
You laughed softly, replying, “It would. The couch isn’t even awful, but these clothes are really ruining the mood for me.”
“Well why don’t you get out of ‘em, hot stuff?” he joked. You knew he wasn’t serious because you guys haven’t gotten that far yet, but something, maybe the exhaustion or the way he kept challenging you today, made you want to actually do it. Before you could lose your nerve, you reached down, pulling off the hoodie and shirt in one go and tossing them onto the floor. You relaxed back into his arms in just a bra, acting like nothing had happened. He was frozen beside you. Maybe it was mean, but you wanted to tease him a little. He’d put you through a lot today, so you wanted to mess with him a tiny bit. So, coolly, you brought a hand onto his thigh and began running it up and down, going higher and higher with each pass. He was still frozen, so you gave a light squeeze, and heard him inhale sharply, though he tried to hide it.
“I thought you were tired,” he commented.
“Guess I’m not anymore,” you responded, turning to face him boldly. He immediately leaned in to kiss you, softly as always. You reciprocated, bringing your other hand up to cup his face. His arm that was around your shoulders slipped down around your waist, pulling you in further. Jared had always been gentle when kissing you, so you knew you’d have to make the first move to deepen it. Which is exactly what you did. Running your hand up his head and grabbing his hair, you pulled him towards you even more and traced your tongue across his bottom lip. He responded by matching your energy, tongue slipping out to caress yours before bringing your bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling softly. You guys had never kissed like this before. You felt a bead of warmth pool in your abdomen, something you’d never felt with a guy before. Sure, you’d been turned on while watching certain videos or reading certain fanfiction by yourself, but you’d never actually experienced it with someone before. It was exciting. Maybe it was the knowledge that you could stop things at any time and he wouldn’t be upset, or maybe it was how in love with you he really was, but you didn’t feel nervous or worried. You felt comfortable.
Taking things a step further, you swung your leg over both of his, moving to straddle his lap.
He pulled away slightly at this, making you ask, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” he responded, “I just don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do.”
You smiled, “I’m not doing anything I don’t wanna do. Are you?”
“Are you seriously asking me that question right now?” He laughed, making you giggle along.
You leaned back in for another kiss, when he stopped you again. “What exactly… are we doing, though?” You knew what he was silently asking. Are we about to go all the way? And you didn’t know yet. This had started out as playful teasing, but now you were beginning to think that maybe you did want to try something. With Jared. He was it for you, the one you wanted to spend forever with. If you couldn’t trust him, you couldn’t trust anyone. And he’d taken such good care of you these last few hours, keeping you warm, making sure you were storming off in the right direction, that you knew he’d appreciate you in a more intimate sense.
“I- I kind of would like to try… some stuff,” you answered.
He looked at you, eyes wide, before answering, “What kind of stuff? I mean, I will do literally anything you ask me to do and you know that, but I didn’t really prepare for this. Like, I don’t… have what we need.” Oh, a condom. What a responsible boy.
“I’m on the pill,” you replied a little too quickly before looking down and fiddling with your hands. “If you want to.”
“Y/N, I would be absolutely fucking honored,” he breathed, before cupping your face and pulling you into the most heated kiss yet. Your tongues danced, hands wandering. Yours, across his muscled chest and abdomen, and his, down your waist and around to cup your pantsless ass, squeezing firmly. It felt nice. He handled you in a way that was gentle and painless, but still dominant and firm. And it made the heat in your belly grow. You continued kissing for several minutes, your hands moving up his neck and eventually landing in his hair once more, and his remaining on your ass and waist. You softly sucked at his lower lip, nibbling slightly, and it made him let out a low growl and pull your hips forward onto his, where you felt something hard push against you. You knew what it was, and it didn’t scare you like it normally would. You did, however, feel your damp underwear. Shit, that’s never happened before. You were normally bone dry at this point. You let out a soft sigh, grinding your hips onto him once more.
He softened his kisses slightly, bringing a hand around to your stomach and running his knuckles lightly across your lower abdomen.
“Can I?” He questioned delicately.
“Yes,” you replied almost immediately. He brought his hand under the waistband of your underwear, when you said, “Wait,” and he stopped. “Just one thing. I kind of… have never been able to do this without it hurting a lot, so maybe you could just try to be gentle?”
“Oh, baby, you’ve been in pain before? I’m so sorry,” he whispered genuinely.
“It’s okay, I just…” It was now or never. He should know. “Normally I’m super nervous about everything, so I can’t really… get into it, and when girls aren’t into it it’s kind of… dry? And that makes it kind of hurt really bad.” You faded out at the end, feeling embarrassed. He brought his hand out of your underwear and up to your chin, tilting your face up to look him in the eye, looking concerned. “But I’m into this, I mean, right now. I’m excited. I just thought I should warn you,” you awkwardly laughed at the end.
“You promise? Because you know that if you want to stop we will, and I would never be upset or pressure or anything like that,” he spoke sweetly, making your heart flutter. And you did know that, which is why you felt comfortable. Every other time, you felt that if you went past a certain point, you couldn’t say stop. Couldn’t call it off without making whatever guy you were with super mad and then… who knows what would happen. But when Jared spoke those words, you believed him.
“I promise. And I know you’ll stop. But I don’t want you to.”
With this, he scanned your face one more time for any signs of hesitation, and when he found none, brought you down into another heated kiss. You felt his hand trail from your chin down to your breasts, skimming over your bra, down your stomach and once again to the waistband of your underwear. Only this time he didn’t go under. He stayed on top of the fabric and brought his hand down between your legs, index finger brushing lightly against your core. You barely felt it, and began to worry that you’d once again feel numb. Oftentimes, when guys would touch you or go down on you, you felt nothing. It was like you were broken or something. And you started to become concerned that tonight would be no different.
But he brought his finger down again, repeating the same movement, only with significantly more pressure this time, and it had you release an involuntary sigh. And instead of removing his finger like he had the first time, he kept it over your clit, drawing firm circles.
Your mouth dropped open in a silent moan, Jared staring intently at your face.
“Oh, wow,” you finally breathed.
“Good?” he asked cockily, wearing a large smirk. He repeated the movement again, drawing a line from your core to your clit, stopping to rub circles.
“Mmm hmm,” you sighed. He leaned in once more to meet you with the sloppiest, dirtiest kiss you two had shared yet, and it only made you grind your center into his hand. He repeated the action several times over, and you were a writhing mess in minutes.
He brought a finger under your waistband once more, stretching the elastic out before letting it snap lightly against your skin. “Let’s take these off, hmm?” You’d never stood up so fast in your life, practically ripping the panties off of you, taking your bra off with it. Jared stood up to remove his shorts, but stopped to stare.
“What?” you questioned shyly, moving to cover up.
“You’re literally the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”
The boy quite literally had heart eyes for you.
“Oh,” you responded meekly, cheeks heating up. When you kept looking back at him, he seemed to snap back into the moment and hurriedly ripped off his shorts and underwear, sitting back on the couch and opening his arms for you. You moved to straddle his hips the same way as before, and he brought his arms around to embrace you as you shared another heated kiss. One of his hands moved up to cup your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple as if you were made of glass. Jared pulled his mouth off of yours and trailed his lips down the side of your face, to your jaw, and down onto your neck, suckling lightly and leaving wet kisses. You tilted your head to the side to give him better access, and brought one of your hands down between you two to grasp him. He shuddered, only grabbing your hips and bringing you impossibly closer. His other hand trailed down to your center once more, going straight to your core and gathering the slight wetness there before bringing his finger up to your clit and circling. With your underwear out of the way, you felt almost lightheaded at his touch. You never knew how girls could cum during sex before, because you never seemed to feel much at all unless it was pain, but with how aroused you were right now and Jared’s movements, you thought for the first time that you may actually be able to finish. People do say that 90% of sex is mental, and you guessed this is what they meant. The more into it you are, the more physical sensation you actually feel. Groundbreaking.
“Can I finger you?” he murmured huskily into your neck.
You tensed slightly at this, but trusted him. If you said stop, he would. “Ok, just go slow.”
“Of course,” he responded before placing a sweet kiss on your shoulder and bringing his index finger back to your core, swirling around the entrance a few times. You took a few deep breaths to relax your muscles, and he looked at you, wordlessly asking, Ready? You nodded, and he slipped his finger in, just to the first knuckle, and held it still while he brought his thumb to your clit and continued rubbing. When he noticed you visibly relax, he slipped his finger in further to the second knuckle, stopping for a few seconds, and then all the way. He kept it here again, giving you time to adjust or tell him to stop, all the while keeping you stimulated with his thumb. It felt really good. Well, you didn’t exactly feel his finger at all, which was better than pain, and his thumb was making you crazy. Your breathing was labored at this point, eyebrows furrowed as you held onto his shoulders, nails digging in and sure to leave scratches. He pressed the finger inside of you onto your front wall suddenly, massaging the ridges firmly, and you let out a moan. Your first real moan ever. And damn did it get Jared excited. He continued this motion again and again, building in intensity and pressure slowly. When he felt how wet you had become, he pulled his finger back out to the first knuckle, and added his middle finger next to it, sliding them both back in slowly so as not to hurt you. Your eyes widened at the stretch, but it didn’t hurt. It felt amazing.
“Oh, fuck,” you whispered to yourself, before moaning once more as his fingers began the ‘come-hither’ motion once more.
“Am I hurting you?” he asked, concerned at your cursing.
“No, feels so good,” you moaned, and he smiled at this, increasing the pressure even more. Your eyes screwed shut, hips stuttering over his hand, letting him finger fuck you for several more minutes as you began to feel a tightening in your stomach. He brought his thumb off of your clit finally, adjusting his hand for a better angle and bringing his other hand off of your waist and up to his mouth, licking his thumb and bringing that down to your clit, resuming the tight circles. You could hear how wet you were, feeling too good to be embarrassed. The heat in your stomach was building, spreading. You felt your legs begin to shake, muscles begin to tighten around his fingers, and your eyes screwed shut as you opened your mouth in a silent scream and came. The waves of pleasure washed over you for a long time, Jared slowing his movements down so as not to overstimulate you. When you finally opened your eyes again, you were panting, legs feeling like Jello. Jared was staring at you with a look of absolute awe on his face, mouth agape and dick rock hard, red, and leaking precum. He was more turned on than he had ever been from actual sex before, and it was only from watching you.
“Fuck, baby that was so hot,” he all but moaned.
You reached down to grasp him, panting a “your turn.”
He grabbed both your wrists, stopping you. “Nuh uh, this is about you. Lie the fuck down.”
You gasped, his dominant tone turning you on despite your recent climax. You both knew that if you were even slightly uncomfortable, things would stop immediately. But it was fun for both of you to let him be a little aggressive. You did as told, lying long ways across the couch cushions, Jared moving to kneel between your legs, moving your knees softly apart so he could look at all of you. You didn’t feel insecure being exposed like this. You felt excited.
“Are you absolutely sure you wanna do this?” he questioned.
“I have never been more sure, Jared baby, I want to,” you pleaded. This was enough for him, so he brought his dick down to line up with your entrance, rubbing the tip up and down a few times to collect your wetness. He was worried that there wouldn’t be enough lubricant, so he brought a hand up to his mouth and spit, rubbing the saliva on his cock.
“You just wait ‘til we get some real lube and a real fucking bed, Princess. You won’t be able to walk for days.” You shuddered at the thought of this, and of the sensation of his dick rubbing around your clit and back down to your entrance. He pushed in slightly, letting the tip in before pausing and checking your face for any signs of pain. When he found none, he pushed in slightly more, and more. He was being extremely slow, and you appreciated it. Guys normally would just shove themselves inside, not giving you any time to adjust before pounding away. But Jared was careful, despite how turned on you knew he was. He still had your best interest in mind. Within a couple of minutes, he was fully seated inside of you, staying still until you told him to move. He brought his face down to give you a sweet kiss, waiting for you to give him the signal.
After a few seconds, you didn’t feel any sort of stinging or pain, so you nodded, saying “Just start slow.”
“Of course,” he replied genuinely. He pulled his hips back just a few inches, before slowly grinding them back into yours. You closed your eyes, focusing on keeping your muscles loose and relaxed as he continues this movement a few more times. The next time he pushed in, he ground his hips further into yours, hitting the deepest parts of you. This had you release a gasp, eyes opening to meet his. “Okay?” he questioned.
“Yes.”
He did this several more times, letting you get used to the feeling of him being so deep inside of you, before your hips began to grind back into his. It felt really good. When he noticed this, he began pulling his hips back more, pushing back in slightly faster, and this had you moaning. You threw your head back, back arched, just enjoying the sensations. Your hands were grasping at his shoulders, definitely leaving scratch marks.
“Oh my God,” you whispered.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he responded, planting sloppy kisses to your neck and collar bone. “Baby, I’m not gonna last much longer.”
You smiled at this, glad he was enjoying it as much as you were. “Go ahead, cum for me,” you spoke, and your words had him right on the edge. He pulled out of you quickly, hand fisting his cock as he stared at your sweaty, writhing body below him. He came hard, spilling onto your stomach as he growled out, the sound making your toes curl, almost animalistic. You both remained in this position as you came down, breaths labored and eyes barely open. He stood up fully off of the couch and reached for the flimsy blanket on the floor, using it to wipe off your stomach. He threw it into the corner of the room and lay down next to you on the couch, gathering you up into his arms to cuddle.
“Did you have a good time?” he asked almost nervously after a few minutes.
“Nah, kinda sucked,” you teased, and he let out a playful laugh, lightly shoving you away before pulling you back and planting a kiss on your temple.
A pause. “For real though,” he prodded, beginning to panic slightly.
You burst out laughing. “Of course I had a good time, Jared. Best i’ve ever had, if I’m being honest.”
“Ok good,” he sighed, relieved but trying not to show that you actually had him nervous for a second.
Another pause. “Did… did you have a good time?” you questioned back at him.
He seemed almost offended at the question, bringing a hand up to cup your face so that your eyes met his. “Y/N, this was the best night of my entire life. That was perfect. You are perfect. And I’m glad you trusted me enough to do that with you.”
You felt your eyes sting slightly, emotions running wild. You considered yourself the luckiest girl in the world to be with Jared Cameron. Not only was he totally gorgeous, but kind, hilarious, and great in bed.
In an effort to switch the tone back to a more playful one, you replied, “Yeah, well I was promised some more fun involving real lube and a real bed so…”
He tugged you further into him, wrapping his arms around you in a way that made you think he might never let go. He laughed, and said “Oh, you just wait.”
#jared cameron x reader#jared cameron#twilight#wolf pack#paul lahote#sam uley#jacob black#embry call#seth clearwater#quil ateara#edward cullen#twilight smut#vaginismus
532 notes
·
View notes
Note
fic request because i am d e s p e r a t e : tarlos carlos whump with supportive gabriel reyes ??? if you’re down to write him that is. i love ur work n ur whump n i think u would write a p good gabe. 🥰
holly’s august extravaganza day 1: against all odds (we're still here)
i'm always down to write gabriel! thanks for the prompt trick, i hope you like it!
ao3 | 2k | car accidents, whump, major character injury, angst with a happy ending
“I told you we should have brought the car.”
Carlos scowls over at TK, shifting one of the many bags he’s carrying higher on his arm. It cuts painfully into his skin, his good mood from earlier long since soured. The knowledge that TK is, of course, right isn’t exactly helping matters.
“In my defence,” he starts, for probably the fifth or sixth time, “when we texted your dad to see if he wanted us to pick up anything from the store, I wasn’t expecting a full list.”
“We could have told him no.”
“TK, he’s your dad and we are literally crashing his home right now. I’m not gonna tell him no.”
TK opens his mouth, presumably to retort with a comment about how his dad loves Carlos and loves having them around. Both of which are things Carlos knows perfectly well, thanks, but he’s still not interested in testing it by refusing to get Owen’s kale chips or that specific brand of shampoo which took half an hour—and two stores—to track down.
Whatever TK was about to say is abandoned when one of his own bags slips out of his grasp and falls to the ground with a depressing thud. It bursts open—because why wouldn’t it—and spills their purchases across the sidewalk. The only solace is that nothing breaks, but that’s where the good news begins and ends; Carlos’s eyes track a can as it rolls down the street and into the gutter, landing in a puddle of dirty water. TK looks forlornly between the dropped bag and those still balanced on his arms, then heaves a long-suffering sigh and crouches awkwardly, easing the other bags down as carefully as he can manage.
“Call an Uber,” he grumbles. “We are not walking home like this.”
On that point, they’re in agreement. Carlos spares himself a moment of idle amusement at TK’s predicament before beginning the arduous task of extracting his phone from his pocket without dropping any of his own shopping.
He’ll hate himself for it later, but he’s so focused that the screech of tires coming around the corner barely registers as a blip on his radar. He doesn’t notice anything until TK suddenly barrels into him, throwing Carlos to the side just before something else, something heavy, crashes into them with a blinding flash of pain, and then—
Nothing.
*
Oh my god!
Someone call 911!
Are they even alive?
Just hold on, son, you’re going to be just fine.
*
Beeping.
Carlos frowns, slowly blinking his heavy eyelids open. It takes a minute to register his surroundings for what they are—a hospital room—and a further minute to notice the presence at his side. It’s his father, looking exhausted, turning his cowboy hat in his hands as he stares at the floor.
“Dad?” he croaks, wincing at the soreness in his throat. “What happened?”
His father’s head jerks up, his eyes going wide as he sees Carlos awake. “Mijo. It’s good to see you awake.”
“Dad, why am I here? What happened?”
He sighs, reaching out to pat Carlos’s arm. “There was an accident,” he explains. “A drunk driver lost control of his car and mounted the curb right where you boys were standing. He was speeding, so he hit you pretty hard. Your foot was crushed under a wheel, you have a fractured wrist, and you bumped your head when you fell so you probably have a concussion. The doctors say you should heal just fine, though, gracias a Dios.”
Carlos lifts his head to look down at his body, only just registering the casts on his arm and foot. There’s a dull ache radiating through his entire body and his head is pounding in time with his heartbeat, but he’s alive and he’ll heal. He should be happy about that, but the only thing occupying his mind is his dad’s silence on TK.
“What about TK?” he asks, part of him dreading the answer. “I remember him pushing me; is he okay?”
“He’s…” His dad hesitates, sending a cold slither of fear down Carlos’s spine. “Alive.”
Carlos stares, the beginnings of panic stealing his breath. “What does that mean?”
His father blows out a long breath. “It means you were right,” he says, meeting Carlos’s eyes. “He did push you, so he took the brunt of the hit. He suffered a serious open pelvic fracture and broken ribs, which punctured his lung. Last I heard, they managed to fix him up and they’re not expecting any further complications, but we won’t know for sure until he wakes up.”
“He hasn’t woken up?”
“Not yet. He will, you’ll see.”
“I want to see him.”
And Carlos knows what the answer will be to that—a resounding no. He also knows that he won’t be able to argue; his father is incredibly stubborn, and when he digs his heels in, there’s no moving him. But he needs to at least try—he’s not going to stop worrying about TK until he sees him, and probably not for a long time after that.
His dad sighs and fixes him with a firm look. “Carlitos, you and I both know that’s out of the question,” he says. “You’ve only just woken up, you need to give yourself time to heal before exerting your body even more. Besides, he’s in good hands and Owen is with him, so we’ll know as soon as there’s any change.”
“Joder, Papá, I know all that,” Carlos cries, frustrated, barely able to refrain from throwing his head back on the pillow. “I just hate that he’s here, hurt, and I can’t even see him.”
“Lo sé,” His dad smiles gently, something that’s probably supposed to be comforting, but really only gets on Carlos’s nerves. “Escúchame, hijo. Descansa. Cúrate. Then you can focus on TK.”
It’s easier said than done and his father knows it, but Carlos has no choice. The conversation is effectively put to an end by his dad reaching over and pressing the call button next to the bed. A nurse comes in and quickly sets about checking his vitals and asking enough questions to make Carlos’s head spin. His probable concussion becomes definite, but otherwise he’s in good shape, all things considered.
He can’t help but wish he weren’t.
*
Two days later, Carlos is deemed fit to be discharged, providing he has someone to help him and providing he agrees to rest and not do anything even close to strenuous. TK is also awake now but, according to Owen, he’ll be kept in the hospital for at least another week. The break to his pelvis was bad, so he’ll need a wheelchair for a while even after discharge, and his refusal to take strong painkillers means his recovery is going to be long and painful.
Carlos is itching to see him. It’s been torture cooped up in his room without knowing how TK was doing—there’s only so much relief messages passed through their fathers can bring. It had only been his father’s stern and steady presence that had kept him in that bed when he felt like he was losing his mind with worry.
But now, finally, he’s being wheeled into TK’s room and helped onto the chair next to the bed. Owen stands off to the side, watching the two of them with a mixture of affection and sadness in his gaze, and his dad hovers behind him, but Carlos only has eyes for TK.
He looks incredibly tired, but he attempts a smile when he rolls his head to look at Carlos, extending his hand out across the distance between them.
“Hey, Ty,” Carlos says softly, taking TK’s hand in his good one. “How are you feeling?”
“Been better. Not sure if I’ve been worse. I think this might just beat getting shot to that title.”
“That’s not funny.”
TK just hums, his eyes drifting closed for a second. “Maybe not.”
“Why did you push me?”
TK’s eyes fly open at the question, confusion overtaking his expression as he stares at Carlos. He moves as if to sit upright before groaning in pain, his face screwing up. Carlos reaches out for him, but he’s beaten to it by his father, who places a reassuring hand on TK’s shoulder.
“Take it easy, son,” he says gently. “Don’t move too much.”
“I hate this,” TK mutters, his body relaxing bit by bit. His gaze is still clouded when he looks back over at Carlos, but he manages a soft smile all the same. “I pushed you because I didn’t want you to get hurt. The car would have hit me either way; I’m just sorry I wasn’t able to get you out of the way in time.”
Carlos blinks at him, dumbfounded. “You’re sorry?” he asks, disbelief colouring his tone. “Ty, you’re in the hospital, seriously injured, because you chose to save me instead of yourself. Why would you do that?”
“You know why.”
Carlos does; of course he does, but it’s not enough to assuage the guilt still bubbling in his stomach at the sight of TK in the bed.
TK sighs, squeezing his hand. “You would have done the same for me,” he points out. “We both know you would have, so don’t you dare ask me to apologise for my choices.”
“I know. I won’t.” Carlos closes his eyes, deflating a little. “I just hate seeing you hurt.”
“And I hate seeing you hurt, so maybe you can do us both a favour and go home. I’ll be fine.”
Carlos must need his hearing tested, because there’s no way TK just said that. There’s no way his boyfriend told him to leave right after calling him out for hypocrisy. Except apparently he did, because he’s trying to disentangle their hands, and Carlos is not having that.
He grips onto TK even tighter and glares at him. “TK, if you think I’m leaving you here—”
“Carlos,” TK interrupts quietly. “I get it. But, babe, you need to rest and heal, and you can’t do either of those things sitting here.”
“Watch me.”
“No.” TK shifts his gaze over Carlos’s shoulder, a slight smirk playing at his lips. “Mr Reyes, can you make sure he rests?”
His dad laughs, leaning over to pat TK’s shoulder. “Of course. I’m sure once his mother sees him, she won’t let him out of her sight for a week anyway.”
TK grins. “Good to know.” He yawns and resettles himself slightly in the bed, his eyes fluttering shut. “Carlos, if you’re still here when I next open my eyes, I’m not kissing you for a month.”
“You shouldn’t make threats you know you can’t follow through with.”
“Don’t make me make it two.”
Despite himself, Carlos laughs. He leans over and presses a lingering kiss to TK’s temple, then stands as well as he’s able, leaning on his dad for support. “Alright, I’m going. I’ll see you soon. Love you.”
TK already sounds half-asleep when he mumbles, “Love you too,” back, and Carlos can’t even be embarrassed by how ridiculously smitten he must look, even though he’s in front of both their fathers.
He allows his dad to move him back to the wheelchair and says a quick goodbye to Owen, keeping his eyes on TK for as long as he can. Just as they reach the door, he catches TK’s eyes opening to slivers, obviously checking to see if Carlos is actually leaving. Carlos shakes his head at him, causing TK to flush at the knowledge he’s been caught. His eyes slam shut again, his tongue poking out childishly, and Carlos laughs, a lightness settling in his heart even as TK’s room disappears from view.
It’s going to be a long few months for the both of them, but they have family behind them to help them get through it.
And they have each other. Which, given everything, Carlos thinks is nothing short of a goddamn miracle.
#911 lone star#911 lone star fic#tarlos#tarlos fic#tk strand#carlos reyes#gabriel reyes#userkimmy#userjillian#tuserjenny#tuserpaige#tuserjamie#reyeslonestartag#<< i'm not going to tag people in all of these btw that would just be annoying rip#holly's august extravaganza#fanfiction#my fanfiction#writing#my writing#trick tag
78 notes
·
View notes
Text
wanting was enough (18+)
pairing: jay halstead x female reader
song: august - taylor swift
word count: 4.1k
summary: jay and the reader are old friends who meet at a bar. neither of them are in a good place, but their night gets a lot better with the others company. however, there’s something important that jay forgot to mention.
warnings: swearing, angst (of course), yelling, smut, unprotected sex
“Am I dreaming? God I sure hope not.”
You’re already rolling your eyes at the horrible pick up line, taking a swig of your drink to get the confidence to shut this guy down, and then you see him, and you nearly choke.
“Holy shit.” You stutter out. “Jay Halstead.”
“Holy shit,” He repeats, “Y/N. I can’t believe it’s you.”
He opens his arms and you shake your head, laughing in disbelief as you hug him. “How are you?” You ask, and he grins, occupying the seat beside you and you look him over for a minute, trying not to stare. He’s bigger, muscles filling out his previously boney stature. A lot has changed since high school and you can only hope he’s looking at you the same way, liking the developments you’ve made since you were seventeen.
“I’m good! Yeah, great. How are you? You look amazing.”
“Thank you,” You murmur, trying not to blush. “So do you.” You avoid the topic of yourself altogether, opting to not mention how little you’ve actually accomplished since high school. Sure you have a degree and a good job, but you seem to be lacking the happiness so many of your classmates have achieved. “What have you been up to? Last I heard you married Abby,” You blurt out, and he laughs, shaking his head in disapproval.
Is it bad that the wedding ring that was not on his left ring finger was one of the first things you noticed?
“Yeah, it was uh-, it was a military thing. Nothing more.” He confirms, and you nod suspiciously.
“So you’re not with Abby then?”
“No,” He laughs, “Definitely not. I mean she’s a great girl and everything, but, not for me.”
“Wow, I wish you would have realized that in high school.” You blurt out, and then your hand is covering your mouth, a reflex response to stop anything worse from coming out.
Jay raises his eyebrows, chuckling at your stunned face. “What does that mean?” You shake your head but he prods further. “Nope, you don’t get to do that, what do you mean by that?”
You’re giggling like a little girl and suddenly you’re seventeen again. This is how it always was, Jay charming as ever and you completely mesmerized. One crucial part of the picture is missing this time though, and you’re hoping it works for the better for you.
“I just mean... I did a lot of pining senior year.” You murmur, and he narrows his eyes.
“Elaborate.” It’s a demand.
“Do I have to?” He nods. “Ugh, I was just always second place to her.”
He wants to respond with humor, but you can see in his eyes for just a split second that he knows exactly what you mean.
He remembers what happened behind the mall, sitting in his car, so close to getting everything you’d ever wanted until his phone rang. Who else but Abby on the other end of the line. You had spent the whole summer together but no matter how far you’d come you were always just a step behind her. And just when you thought you were getting somewhere, August came. And you were off to school, Jay enrolled in the military. And the rest is history.
“You were second place?” He clarifies, and you nod. “Well so was I.”
You raise your eyebrows at him, and he nods, tilting his beer to his lips. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Dan,” You haven’t heard that name in years. “I only went along with Abby because you were obviously into Dan.”
“I was not into Dan!” You shriek, and Jay laughs. “I’m kind of offended that you thought I was...”
“You so were,” He accuses, and you keep giggling, covering your mouth to try and control how hard you’re smiling. “I liked you, like really liked you. But Abby told me you liked Dan, so I never did anything.”
“She lied,” You say, shoulders shaking with hysterics. “I hated Dan.” Jay is laughing now too, and goodness, you’re so happy you decided to stop at this bar.
When the laughter fades, your eyes lock and for a moment the wind is knocked out of you.
Even though you’re probably gonna regret it, you decide to take the leap you never were bold enough to take in high school.
“Jay, I never thought about Dan a minute after high school... You, on the other hand? Everyday.”
A small smile grows on his face, and then he says, “Yeah I thought about you a lot too.”
You talk for hours, just catching up, and it’s so familiar. He asks about your job and your degree; laughs with you about your brother and how he’s managed to stay reckless after all this time; pries about your relationships in the last ten years. He tells you about his job now, and you soak in every moment as he talks louder, hands motioning like crazy when he gets to the crazy parts of his stories. You hold his hand while he opens up about things that happened on his tours, you can see the pain in his eyes even though he tries to put up a strong front.
He’s so different from how he used to be, but still so similar. And even though a decade has passed, you’re still just as smitten with him as you were ten years ago.
It feels like no time has passed since Jay approached you with his stupid line, but when the lights turn on, you realize what time it is. 2 am. You’ve been talking for five hours.
“Shit,” You mumble, because you’re not ready to go.
It’s like Jay reads your mind though, because he slides his hand over yours, giving you a small grin when he says, “Do you wanna come back to my place? I’m not quite ready to say goodbye to you yet.”
The answer is yes. A thousand times yes. But you can’t give in so easy. “Jay Halstead... We’ve only just met and you’re inviting me back to your place?”
He rolls his eyes, pulling your jacket off the back of your chair with a smirk. “I promise I’ll be the perfect gentleman. No risky business.”
And that’s how you end up in his apartment, sitting five feet apart on his bed like you’re still in high school. There’s a movie playing but neither of you are paying attention.
However, it’s probably your fault that he’s so far away. When he guided you to his room, you, like a teenage virgin, poked a finger at his chest- his extremely broad chest- and said, “I’m not here to have sex with you.”
You said it because you didn’t want to seem desperate, or easy... But it’s Jay, and you’ve known him since high school. You feel like you’ve waited ages for him. And you’ve changed your mind.
But how do you tell him that without telling him that...
You turn your head to look at him, and the corners of his mouth tilt up as he realizes you’re watching him. He turns to look at you, extending his arm, “You know you can come over here and cuddle with me, I won’t bite...”
With a sly grin you crawl over to him, settling in his arms. And damn, pressed against his hard body you’ve really changed your mind. “I wouldn’t be mad if you did... bite...” You say, words falling off towards the end.
You freeze for a minute, locked in a staring match with him before you’re pushing yourself up to kiss him. He’s not surprised, his free arm wounds around your waist, his tongue slides into your mouth and all you can think is what have you gotten yourself into.
You kiss him harder, trying to get even closer to him but he stays steady, his hands sit comfortably, resting on the outside of your thigh and your waist, thumbs drawing circles through the fabric of your t shirt dress.
He makes no moves to go any further, and your timid nature prevents you from doing so either, but you’re walking a thin line. You want so much more.
Finally you say fuck it, disconnecting your lips and tilting your chin up. He gets the hint and he scrapes his teeth across the soft skin. You whine, grabbing his t shirt while you mumble his name.
“Please,” You whisper, trying to pull him closer. You hate that he’s made you so weak. All he’s done is kiss you and you’re nearly falling on your knees.
“What do you want, baby?” He whispers, pressing delicate kisses to your neck.
“I want you to touch me,” You whisper, cheeks tinging red at your confession. He doesn’t seem to mind though, with a smile he brings your lips back to his. His tongue slides into your mouth, and you hold onto his shoulders a little tighter. Slowly, his hand makes it’s way from the outside of your thigh, to the inside. And then he’s pressuring your knee, pushing your legs apart.
“Jay,” You mumble, and the second his green eyes meet yours, you’re lost.
“You okay?” He asks, and all you can do is nod.
“Are you sure about this?” Another nod.
You’re so beyond wet from just kissing him, it’s almost embarrassing.
He’s so gentle, hands sliding further and further up until their fiddling with the waist band of your underwear. You raise your hips, thinking he’s going to take them off but he doesn’t, he only applies slight pressure to your mound.
His hands are working so slowly and the anticipation is building and building. His fingers work their way down, humming over your clit and passing until they’re ghosting right over where there is probably a wet spot. You can feel your cheeks start to burn red at the thought of it, and it makes you mad at him for being so annoyingly hot.
He presses more firmly, and even though it’s not quite where you want him to be, it still feels good, so you kiss him harder. He responds eagerly, nibbling on your bottom lip. Then he’s ducking his head into the crook of your neck, teeth and tongue grazing the spot just below above your collarbone.
You can’t help the moan that slips out, and you dig your nails into his shoulder when he chuckles against the skin there. He connects your lips again with a smile, and it’s so smug it’s irritating. You really just want him to do something other than tease you, so one of your hands leaves his shoulder, latching onto his wrist that’s under your skirt. When you push his hand up he laughs against your lips, pulling his hand from your grasp. “Jay, do something,” You grumble, tilting your head back.
He leans into your neck, dragging his lips over the skin. “I thought you weren’t here to have sex with me.”
You internally roll your eyes, “This isn’t sex,” You reply and he laughs.
“Touche,” He says, and then he’s moving his hand up, yanking down one side of your underwear. You help him out, tugging down the other side, he slides them down your legs, and then slowly slides his hand back up, taking his sweet time.
When he finally gets to where you want him, your shoulders slump, miles of tension being released with his simple touch. He dips a finger down to feel how wet you are, spreading it around he rubs slow circles on your clit, and you release exasperated little breaths against his lips. Your legs instinctively open wider, and Jay’s touch grazes lower, his middle finger teasing your entrance. It dips in, and you try to sink lower, but his hand on your hip holds your firmly in place. He pulls it out, and then goes in again, this time with two fingers. You buck your hips slightly, the pads of his fingers brush your walls, and your back arches while you ache for more. Getting his fingers in even further his palm presses hard onto the hood of your clit, and then you know you’re not going to last long after that. Your head is tilted back, chest heaving up and down and Jay watches in awe, working his fingers while you move with him. His fingers are continuously pressing against your g spot, and you’re practically grinding onto his palm now. It feels so good, and his lips are so soft against yours. He’s like a drug, and now that you’re almost to the edge you know one high isn’t going to be enough. “Jay-” You pull away from his lips, head tipping back.
“Let go,” He mumbles, pressing a kiss to your neck.
Another rock against his hand sends you over the edge, your eyes squeezing shut, and Jay stretches his hand back, avoiding your clit while you ride out your high on his fingers. Slowly they stop moving and your eyes flutter open when he pulls his hand out from under your dress. He sucks them into his mouth and surprisingly a hot moan slips past your lips at the sight. Fuck you need him. You fall back onto the bed, grabbing his shirt to yank him with you.
“Bab-” He starts to speak but you latch onto his neck pulling his lips down to meet yours. When you wrap your legs around him you feel his hard on press against you and it’s almost enough to make you moan embarrassingly loud again.
Hands sliding down, you tug up the fabric of his shirt and he pauses to get it over his head. He chuckles when your fingers hook into his shorts, “Slow down, babe.”
Ignoring him you push his shorts and boxers down, and he holds himself up with one arm to help you out. His cock is hard and you bite your lip at the sight of it, the tip red an soaked with precum.
When he leans back down, your hands grip onto his waist, legs wrapping around him in preparation. He slides his cock in between your folds and you jerk when he grazes your clit. “You sure, baby?” He asks.
“Jay, if you stop now I might combust,”
He grins, pressing a kiss to your lips before standing on his knees, grabbing hold of your calves he yanks you to the edge of the bed. Then he raises your legs so they rest on his shoulders, and he’s pushing into you so slowly it’s almost painful. You need him so badly, and he knows. You cry out when he sinks fully into you, knotting your hands into his hair. He has his feet on the ground for momentum, using your thighs to push you down and it has him so deep you think you could pass out. Every time he moves its like your whole body is getting shocked with pleasure.
“You feel so good,” His grip on your waist is getting tighter, and you grip onto his shoulders to pull him down to you, desperate to feel his lips on yours. When your mouths connect you feel like your lit on fire.
You sling an arm around his neck, wanting to keep him as close as possible. He presses short kisses to your lips while he continues to grind into you, he feels amazing and you know you’re climbing up quickly to another climax. His head tilts back, mouth falling open and it’s like a whole other stimulant in itself, seeing the pleasure that you give him. Nothing turns you on more.
“Jay,” You murmur, pressing a kiss to the underside of his chin. He responds by connecting your lips again, kissing you through your second orgasm. It’s long and incredible, and it crashes over you so hard it feels like more than just one, but he continues to fuck you through it, getting himself off. He presses you into the bed, and you admire the way his muscles flex, and the way he clenches his jaw while he’s coming undone.
He is so beautiful.
Finally he collapses on you, catching his breath before he rolls off. You both take a moment to let your thoughts catch up, labored breaths filling the room. “Wow,” He finally says, and once again, all you can do is nod.
Breathlessly he stands, grabbing his boxers to tug on before he winks and leaves the room. When he comes back minutes later, he has two glasses of wine in hand and you grin, you picked a good one.
“Wow, if I wasn’t in love with you before I sure am after that little performance. Now this?” You smile, taking the glass. “You’ve out done yourself.”
“Anything to impress you,” He teases, clinking his glass against yours.
You lay there for another few hours, tangled in the sheets just talking more. And you’re wondering if it’s possible to fall back in love in less than ten hours.
Eventually Jay nods off, and when you look at your phone you realize it’s six in the morning.
You didn’t exactly plan on staying at the bar later than eleven, work at nine usually is enough to prevent you from going home with a guy but apparently Jay doesn’t count.
You don’t really want to leave but you should probably go home and shower, so you quietly put on your clothes, trying your hardest not to wake Jay up in the process. Before you go, you steal his phone, going to settings to get his number so you can shoot him a quick text goodbye.
You’re typing as you sneak out of his bedroom, writing out a cute message about how much fun you had when a voice scares you.
“Looks like you guys aren’t fighting anymore,”
With your startle you accidentally press send on your unfinished text, muttering a shit as you look up to see who’s talking to you. If you remember correctly, it’s Jay’s brother, his hair still as fiery red as ever.
When he sees you he freezes. You’re obviously not who he was expecting because he stutters out, “You’re not Erin,”
And no, you’re not.
You feel your stomach drop, and you’re praying that the best night of your life isn’t about to get ruined, but by the dire look on his face, it is. “Who’s Erin?” You mumble, and Will’s face falls, like he actually feels bad for you.
“Jay’s girlfriend.” He whispers.
Your whole body goes still, a cold impulse spreading throughout your body as you realize what you just did. You can’t bring yourself to say anything else, you just run out of the apartment as fast as you can.
You’re not really thinking, just acting as you walk down the street, clicking fast on your phone to order an uber, anything to keep you from actually digesting what just happened.
And that’s how the morning continues, you don’t stop for a minute, occupying your thoughts with literally anything other than him. It works for a while, you can keep your mind off him while you shower and get ready for work, but then you’re sat at your desk, staring at your phone that has not stopped ringing since you sat down.
It’s an unknown number but you know exactly who it is. There’s seven missed calls, numerous texts but you’re not looking at any of them. You’re busy thinking of what happens now.
What if she finds out? What if she finds out and finds you? You’ve maximized jumping to conclusions and gone straight for diving off a cliff into a lake of worst case scenarios.
There’s more missed calls and texts by the time lunch rolls around, you’ve had concerned comments from just about everyone of your coworkers, but it’s easy to brush off their worry, your own however? Just about impossible.
How is it that you became a home wrecker without even knowing? Was there some sign of her that you missed? Because you feel like you should have known.
You’re still sitting at your desk, staring blankly at a computer that has yet to be turned on today when your receptionist, Maggie, knocks on your office door.
She looks like a deer in the headlights, eyes wide as she says, “There’s a client here to see you,”
“I don’t have any appointments today...” It’s Friday, you never schedule client meetings on Fridays.
“I told him that, but he says it’s urgent.”
For her sake, because she looks terrified, you roll your eyes and nod. “Okay send him in.”
She steps aside and then your client is sauntering into the room, badge on display for everyone, including poor Maggie to see.
“Is this a fucking joke?” You cry, and Maggie nearly jumps out of her skin. You want to tell her to drag his ass out of here but she’s clearly had enough excitement for one day so you dismiss her with clenched teeth, eyes unwavering from the shithead in front of you.
“Are you kidding me, Jay?” You growl, “Showing up here? I’m working. How the hell did you even find me?”
“I’m a cop, Y/N. I found you in two minutes,” He shuts the door behind Maggie and you can see the intrigued glances from your coworkers. “And besides I wouldn’t have showed up here unannounced if you would just pick up the phone when I called.” He argues, and you scoff.
“Do you actually think you deserve that? After what you did?”
“You never let me explain!”
“What can you possibly have to explain, Jay? You turned me into a homewrecker!”
“I didn’t mean to-,” He starts, but you cut him off.
“I asked if you were with anyone! You said no!”
“You asked if I was with Abby.” He counters, “I didn’t lie.”
Your eyes go wide, jaw nearly dropping to the floor. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. That’s your excuse? A technicality?”
He shrugs, and you resist the urge to throw your penholder at him. “Who is Erin, Jay?”
“My girlfriend.” He admits, and you actually reach for your ammunition, but he continues, “Sort of.”
“She uh, we haven’t been on the best terms lately, we were living together, but I moved in with Will a little while ago to give her some space. She got offered a job with the FBI in New York.”
“But you’re still together.” You state, and Jay winces.
“Technically?” Now it’s your turn to cringe. “I went to her apartment before work yesterday, to try and talk through things but she was gone. Her place was completely clear. I didn’t even tell Will. That’s why I was at that bar last night, I was drinking my sorrows away.”
“How am I supposed to believe you?” You whisper, teary eyed. You’re trying to take in everything he’s saying but you just don’t know if you trust him...
With a pained look Jay picks up him phone tilting it so you can see while he scrolls through his contacts, stopping on a name with a blue heart by it. He clicks on her name, and a picture of the two of them comes up as the line rings once, and then an automated voice chimes in.
The number you have dialed is no longer in service.
“I’ve sent her a hundred texts messages, but none of them have delivered.” He says, and his bottom lip is quivering. “You have to believe me, we’re over.”
It sure seems that way... But the pain of thinking you were the other woman has quickly been replaced by the pain of realizing you’re the rebound.
There’s no good outcome, any which way you spin this.
“So I was a rebound then?” You say, voice nearly breaking.
He can’t say no to that, and it hurts you even more. “I don’t-, I don’t know. But I needed you last night. I saw you and I didn’t even think about her for the entire night. I felt okay for the first time since leaving mine and Erin’s empty apartment and I wanted to hold onto that. I still do.”
“Jay,” You whisper, “I don’t know if I can be that for you... It feels like high school all over again. Your second choice, again.”
“You won’t be.” He reassures you, and then he steps forward to pull you into his arms and you shouldn’t let him but you do. “I promise you won’t be a second choice.”
He can’t really promise that, though. He can try and you convince you of that, but he’s always been someone else’s. Never yours to lose. Tears roll down your cheeks and you try to pull away from him, but he’s not letting go.
“I’m not ready to say goodbye to you yet.”
.....
taglist: @nevertoofarfromivar @samanthavitale @malrunaway @bluecrush129
#jay halstead#jay halstead x reader#jay halstead imagine#jay halstead smut#chicago pd imagine#chicago pd#jesse lee soffer imagine#jesse lee soffer x reader#jesse lee soffer
593 notes
·
View notes
Text
As Long As It's You
Chapter One
Summary: Boston AU which predates the show in which Hotch and Morgan are together when Gideon's decisions with Adrian Bale change the course of their lives.
Warning: typical violence and bomb stuff
Pairing: Hotchgan/Mortch
The air conditioning in the room rages through the August heat, Boston has nothing on Quantico humidity but the air is still dense. Uncomfortably thick and showing no reprieve in the days since they arrived. On top of the sheets, the thin comforter underneath his sweaty body, Derek looks up at the spackled ceiling. The room’s too poorly lit to see it well but the whirling patterns are still there, easy to track in their simplicity. The shower runs in the background. The bad water pressure and too hot water working to wear down Aaron’s edges, leave him in his bare-bones. Sleepy and compliantly ready for bed.
“Oh Aaron,” Derek sighs. He props himself up on his elbow, his face eaten by a smile he feels no control over. Wet hair standing in crossed, leaning patterns Aaron steps out of the bathroom. He’s wearing his favorite pajama pants, the one’s he packs on every long case away. An old worn cable knit sweater pulled down over his hands. “It’s too hot for that.” Derek sits up, shaking his head affectionately. Aaron’s cold natured but the room is too hot for that sweater.
Yawning, sweater-covered hand coming held over his mouth, Aaron trudges to the bed. Feet scuffing across the cheap worn carpet, he pays Derek no mind. Their physical differences are so apparent in this little room. Derek’s abs hard and flexed with his arms stretched up above his head, a toned leg thrown over the side of the bed. Foot dangling just above the carpet. Aaron is worn and scarred in places where Derek is hard and smooth. He’s marked and scuffed across his stomach, scars scattered over his skin. And Derek sees right through him. To the self-conscious fool underneath the layers of clothes he puts between them.
Aaron’s rolled over onto his side, back facing Derek. He’s attempting and failing to settle down. The comforter is miserable and the bed much too small for two grown men. Especially with the amount of distance Aaron’s attempted to put between them. He flinches when Derek’s hand comes to his back, slowly creeping up under his sweater until warm fingers spreading out over his skin. Derek’s palm over his stomach, holding him together. Attempting to pull Aaron into Derek’s skin, meld them into one person. “Is this okay?” Derek asks.
Aaron nods, the tears in his eyes slipping down to the pillow.
“For breakfast,” Derek mumbles, “we should get waffles.” He yawns, pressing closer until his chest is against Aaron’s back. “Mmm and bacon,” he whispers, dreamily. His stomach growls and Aaron laughs a deep chuckle. Derek squeezes him, kissing the back of his neck. “What are you laughing at? I’m basically wasting away! I’m starving.” Wet hair against his forehead, Derek presses his face into Aaron’s neck. Squeezing him tight, holding him to his chest so he can’t get away. Worm away like he sometimes does in the middle of the night.
With a yawn, Aaron taps Derek’s hand and turns around until he’s facing Derek. He scoots down until he can fit his head under Derek’s chin, presses his face against Derek’s chest. Crinkling his nose he mumbles, “your breath stinks.”
Derek huffs, “you are so mean to me, Agent Hotchner.” His hand comes down to tilt Aaron’s head up, Dere kisses Aaron’s forehead, then his nose. Smirking when Aaron tries to worm away from this too. He turns himself into a koala, throws a leg over Aaron’s hips, and pins his arms to his chest. Aaron fights it, always does, but he secretly loves it. Being held that close. “So terribly mean,” Derek whispers.
Aaron falls asleep first, the anxious feeling he’s grown to be quite accustomed to stifled by how tightly Derek holds him. It’s easier to sleep with someone else. He’d never asked for this particular treatment, had always assumed he was actually more of a hands-off kind of partner. In a lot of ways, he is but not in this one. He’s not asleep though when Derek kisses his cheek, his warm palm dragging up his back. Coming to rest against his cheek, thumb brushing against his lip. Aaron smiles, Derek smiles back catching the edge of his lips in a kiss.
It’s not surprising Derek never moves in the night. Aaron wakes up on his stomach, lifts his head up out of where he’s wedged his face between Derek’s shoulder and the pillow. Out of the warmth. He looks over his shoulder, frowns at how far his squirming has caused his sweater to ride up his back. He really doesn’t sleep all that calmly but that doesn’t explain everything. Especially not Derek’s hand resting against his ass, above his boxers but in his pants.
Aaron’s mastered the art of crawling out of Derek’s arms but the pants situation is not something he’s equipped for. Derek groans when he moves, unhappy to be shifted in his sleep but he stays asleep. Aaron gets dressed in the dark, his slacks making soft swishing noises as his legs slide into the designated holes.
“Aaron,” Derek whispers. The bedsheets make a soft swishing sound as Derek moves his hand along the sheets, making another discontent groaning sound. He rolls over, squints into the darkness until he can see Aaron moving around. “What’re you doing?” He rubs his eyes, sits up. “Babe, it’s early. Why are you up?”
Stifling a yawn with the back of his hand Aaron stumbles over to the bed. He trips on Derek’s pants, his disregarded clothing leaving a trail of tripping hazards for him to break his neck on. “I was gonna go to the hospital? Get the reports that Gideon was talking about. I have to get a jump on them because Gideon thinks there might be something in them we can use to build the profile.”
Derek hums, laying back down. He waves Aaron over, “lay back down.” He yawns, pulling the comforter back and leaving Aaron plenty of room to do just that. “Come on,” he whines. “Fifteen minutes, you don’t even need to go just yet.”
Aaron wants to disagree, to keep going on about his morning, but Derek reaches over and snags his hand. Tangles their fingers, pulls him closer. “Fine,” Aaron whispers. “Until you fall asleep.” He lays down where Derek was, immediately warmed by the heat Derek’s body left seeped into the covers. Derek attaches himself to Aaron’s back, pushes his face into Aaron’s back, and falls back to sleep. Like it’s nothing.
It’s much harder to get out of bed this time.
He shuts the door behind him softly, fighting the lock thudding back into place. As childish as it must look, he eases past Gideon’s door. Knows that if he’s found out Jason will chase him back to the room, he won’t find Aaron’s early start to the day ambitious but rather foolish. They’re all exhausted, they need to sleep. They’ve been in Boston for four intense days, split out across the city watching three different victims fall prey to a bomber. Derek’s breaking his back profiling bomb fragments, angry that he can’t provide the final answers they need in the profile. In whatever dark room he’s afforded, Aaron closes himself off with the case files. Looks over Derek’s notes and relays information about the victims to Jason.
They’re stuck.
At five, Derek wakes up alone. It’s not unusual.
He’s halfway down the stairs when he hears Gideon come out of his room. Derek looks over his shoulder, nods his head in acknowledgment to Gideon, and keeps walking. Neither have to say a thing to know where Aaron is. “Will you be joining us for breakfast?” Derek asks. He fails to keep his tone even, to not sound annoyed by Aaron sneaking off so early in the morning. It’s not healthy and if he’d been more awake he’d have stopped him. Aaron’s answer is no but he dancing around the answer enough to make it sound like a yes, Derek just isn’t stupid enough to fall for that anymore. “Here,” Derek shrugs it off. It’s too early for a fight. “Gideon wants to talk to you.”
He has blueberry pancakes because they’re doing a physically demanding job and living on an empty stomach isn’t healthy. No matter how Aaron dances around it. Gideon hangs up the call, Derek simply holding up his hand and shaking his head when Gideon tries to let him have the last word. He doesn’t want to talk to Aaron right now. He’s still bitter about his own four a.m. wake-up call and too hungry to make it through a conversation with him without snapping. And that’s not what either needs right now.
“He’s been distance lately,” Gideon says into his tea.
Derek grunts and keeps his head in his pancakes, doesn’t want to encourage the conversation.
“You going to be okay?”
Gideon knows but… Aaron and Derek aren’t sure about how much or to what extent. They know that he sees right through them and that’s a dangerous thing but he says nothing. Aaron dispels Derek’s fear with practiced words, a profile he’s been building since he met Gideon. He’s been watching how what little trusted information Aaron gives him blows over. What he reacts to and what he doesn’t. He’s only actually a little certain that Gideon won’t have them hung and tried for their crimes. Leave them for dead. Worse, outed to the entire government.
“I’m not sure,” Derek mumbles. He’s looking down into pancakes, picking one up with his fork and examining how pathetic and unappetizing it looks. “I think four more days in this city is going to kill him.” He drops his fork, runs his hands over his head, and just sits like that for a moment. This relationship and this silent moment go against everything he’s ever taught himself. Not to trust men, especially ones in power, but Gideon… When Aaron shuts a door like this Gideon has the flourish to pick the lock.
“Mmm,” Gideon agrees. He sets his mug down, wipes his mouth with a napkin, and clears his throat. “Well, I guess, we better get to work.”
Work pays in migraines.
Aaron comes back with reports upon reports. The receptionist offers them coffee when they step in -- she has a thing for Derek, which they all ignore in favor of her bringing them the freshest coffee -- she beams a smile at Derek and motions to Aaron sitting in the press conference room they’ve been given to work in. “He’s been here all morning, he’s like a robot.” Derek takes her coffee and doesn’t exchange the flirting like he has been, though it’s the unspoken payment for her coffee.
Gideon winks, patting her shoulder and expressing his gratitude for the coffee. “He is,” Gideon agrees, “that’s why we keep him around.” He laughs even he doesn’t find it that funny. He busies himself outside of the room they’ve been working in none-stop since they got here. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Derek wake Aaron up, purposely distancing themselves so the outside world doesn’t see. To hide how badly Derek wants to wipe the file’s imprint on Aaron’s cheek away with his sleeve. He gives them enough time to settle things and he steps into the room, clearing his throat. “Well, it seems since Hotch has such a jump on us this morning, why don’t you tell us what you’ve found?”
Hotch looks up at Derek but stands, clearing his throat. He has to move his shirt around, sleeping on paperwork has worn down his charm and carefully curated look. “I was looking at the -- the metal rods Derek found in the bombs--” his trembling hands hunt through the files. Searching for the pictures that Derek took but he ends up making a mess, the papers too thin for his uncoordinated hands. Derek pushes him away, takes over the mission and finds the prize before Aaron can start stuttering through his findings again. “I thought they made it seem like all that matters is the bombs. Not the victims, that explains why there isn’t a type, in the victimology. He’ll kill anyone because it’s about the bombs, not the victims. It’s about the rush, the fire, and the control.”
Derek nods, he’s not so sure that’s what the metal rods are there for. It’s maximum carnage for a great distance, over-kill for one soul person. To him, it just sounds like Aaron isn’t sleeping enough.
Gideon seems to agree but he’s pleasantly forgiving. Aaron’s worked hard for the last four days carrying more than his share of the profile. “It’s good, that’s good.” With a nod, he shifts the focus to Derek. “I think I’m going to split us up today. Send Derek to look at the bombs again. There has to be something we’re missing there.” Gideon steps to leave the room but turns back, “keep looking into the rod thing, Hotch. I think you’re on to something.”
With two light slaps to the doorframe, Gideon disappears back into the station. To the whirs and light conversation being had by the officers. Where Aaron knew Derek would eventually abandon him too as well. Disappearing into the uniforms easily, not returning until lunch or dinner. Coming back to reprimand him about whatever meal he’s missed or how he didn’t call Derek back. But for just a second Derek keeps his hand on Aaron’s shoulder, soaks in all the physical proximity he can before he has to step away. Turn themselves into different people, with different motives.
“I love you,” Derek whispers, stepping away from Aaron. “Please, please get lunch with Gideon. Do not sit in this room all day. You need to get some sun.” He hesitates to leave the room completely, wants to stay here just a little longer. Bask in Aaron’s proximity before he has to go sit in front of his own reports all day, looking at pictures of charred bodies and analyzing bomb fragments. “We should take a day when this is over. Go to the beach, drink vodka out of a watermelon on the sand.”
Aaron’s head has already gone back to his hands, fingers seeping through his dark hair. “I don’t like the sand,” he mumbles. It’s childish, it’s picking a fight where there doesn’t need to be one. He doesn’t like the sand but he does like the beach. How happy that it makes Derek and even dragging chairs and an umbrella down to the water. Letting Derek pull him into the waves and falling asleep hours later with skin warmed by the sun, Derek’s arms holding him down, and the residual rocking of phantom waves easing him to sleep. It sounds… amazing but he’s just in the mood to be an asshole.
“Think about it,” Derek asks, “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
He does think about it. He wants to spend hours in the car with Derek, listening to his music shift in styles and decades the farther they get away from Quantico, Virginia. To feel the residual ache of a nap he takes in the car, neck bent awkwardly to rest his head against the window and Derek’s hand on the inside of his thigh. To be awakened by the sun on his face, the heat of it good against his chilled skin. To go on long walks along the boardwalk, taking bites out of the greasy food Derek loves, and to hold his hand when it gets dark enough. To initiate contact only when the night swells his chest with bravery, daring anyone to say anything when the buzz of alcohol in his veins fills him with liquid courage. Just the sun and the beach and Derek.
But there isn’t a break in the case.
Only a hostage.
A forty-seven-year-old white man, the bomb held in his shaking hands. His front porch is too small for most of the officers so they have to regroup, come up with a proper plan. The hostage won’t last much longer in the heat. Adrenaline and humidity will do him in. They’re fighting two clocks. They need Derek here but he’s halfway to Virginia, consulting with Gideon in angry shouts as the two feverishly disagree with the plan they’re making. Derek doesn’t trust Bale to tell them what they need, Gideon thinks he’s a coward, he’ll cave.
“I’ll do it,” Aaron interrupts. He’s wearing his vest, already hooked up. If Gideon mans the negotiations, tries to get Bale to tell them what to cut he can handle getting closer to the bomb. Being their man in the field, the filter between what Gideon says and making sure what Derek says gets done. It would be far more helpful to just have Derek doing it, someone here who understands everything. Aaron knows about bombs… he learned about them as a cadet but he knows enough. To help. To get this handled.
“No,” Derek says and Gideon nods his head, “go. Keep your radio on 4, I don’t want anyone else out there.”
Aaron nods, all he needs to say is done. His vest agitates the skin under his arms but as he pulls the straps in tight it stifles the anxiety hammering through his bones. It’s comforting, it’s dangerous.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Aaron looks up, knows he’s the only person that can hear Derek through his earpiece but he still freezes a little. Glances over at Gideon now bowed back over his preciously set up desk, on the phone with Bale and trying to find some way to make this disastrous situation end without more death. Under his breath, he answers Derek, “my job. Someone needs to be out there. You’re not here. So it has to be me.” He looks down at himself, vest pulled down to meet his belt. Zipper up. Radio properly fed to his ear. “Are you ready?” Aaron asks, clenching his fists tight. Calm, he needs to be calm.
“Aaron, please be careful.”
There isn’t actually much that he can do. He’s a mid-point, a place wedged between phone calls. A voice to be drowned into the mix of others, not as important as Gideon’s sharp no non-sense negotiating. He’s a body in the sea, a calm voice. “Eric,” he offers calmly, “just hold still for us. We’ll get you out of here.” The poor man’s hands are showing no signs of steadying out. The bomb explosive element is mercury -- perhaps it’s not the explosive element but Derek was telling him about all this while they were laying in bed, Derek’s fingers scratching at his scalp so no he wasn’t paying enough attention. Mercury, though, is very unsteady, and the way the bombs are made the mercury is unstable. It’s going to tilt over and… boom.
“Agent Hotchner,” a bomb squad agent steps forward. “I’m going to approach the bomb now. Agent Gideon and Agent Morgan have spoken to Bale, he’s helping them.”
Aaron nods steps out of the way. “Eric, this man is going to help you, okay? Just keep steady, alright?”
It’s agonizingly slow. Aaron stays close, he’s only allowed at the bottom of the porch. Eric standing right by the door to the house. He says what he has to, what he’s trained to. It’s not that hard, he trusts Derek and he trusts Gideon. No matter how his gut twists. How at the back of his mind he’s reminded that he thinks this is all end-game, it ends in a bang. How seven federal agents would make the best ending, a great story for a bad guy.
“Eric,” the bomb squad agent says. “I’m going to disarm the bomb now--”
Seven hundred miles away and Derek Morgan feels that bomb shatter his world.
#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#as long as it's you#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#jason gideon#mortch#hotchgan
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pt.20 "Into the Frying Pan"
CW: airplane setting, hospital setting, police mention, drugs/alcohol/cigarettes, nightmare/ptsd mention, tics/tourettes, injury description, discussion of noncon/dubcon, nsfw themes, conditioned whumpee trying to initiate sex with caretaker, dehumanizing language/discussion, discussion of past abuse, food mention, discussion of wearing a collar, derogatory language, strangling mention (let me know if I missed anything!)
It was all at once insanely overwhelming and yet incredibly simple for Elias to be away from August, to be on his own. He was allowed to just sit peacefully on his own, no one's hands were on him, there was no tight collar to make him feel suffocated. The flight attendants would occasionally sit with him and ask him how he was doing, if he needed anything, and he was thankful to be otherwise left alone. The lack of constant stress allowed him to lull himself off into a fitful, drunken sleep, where the dreams were horrendous but not stronger than his fatigue. At some point, one of the nice flight attendants keeping an eye on him draped her jacket over him, smiling at him when he woke up to look at her.
"You looked cold," she excused herself. "We'll be landing in about an hour and a half."
"Thank you so much." He grumbled back, tightening the jacket around him to get warmer, then he promptly fell back asleep.
The hospital visit was long and tedious, and by the end apparently also pointless, because they simply couldn't do anything for him. His injuries were plenty, and they had all been severe in the beginning, but by now they were all healed just enough for the doctors to slap some antibiotics and pain relievers on him and call it a day. The meds they gave him seemed diluted by the leftover drugs in his blood, so even that didn't matter.
He wasn't allowed to go straight home after that, like he'd been hoping, instead he was taken to the police station to talk about August. By then he wanted nothing more than to just be back with No Name, and the longer he wasn't the worse he felt.
"Is there anything we can get you while we wait?" People kept asking him, ever since he'd gotten on the plane. It was incredibly unnerving, didn't they know he was just an idiot pet, that he didn't get wants? He guessed maybe not having a collar on wasn't helping his case.
Right now the person asking him was a large police officer, waiting with him outside. Elias felt his stare fixated on him, probably on the tears stained on his face, or the tired, far off look in his eyes.
"Would you be able to get me a cigarette? Please?" The request came out slightly mangled and watery, he was surprised to hear himself asking for it. He was never allowed to ask for anything, he half expected to be slapped across the head for it. Instead, the officer reached out at a safe distance with one in hand. "Oh. Th...thank you so much."
As he lit up, the chill breeze ran through his hair, making him feel gradually more sober. He looked up at the palm trees swaying slightly, the realization that he was home really started to sink in. It was all gonna be ok because he was home. After talking about August and all of the atrocities he'd put him through with the police for a few hours, he felt like he had relived it all. And now it could be done, he just had to wait for No Name.
"Is that him there?" The officer piped up suddenly, making Elias flinch. He looked up to see him approaching, his shoulders high with tension.
Elias dropped his cigarette to the ground with a gasp, his hands flying to cover his eyes in pure shock. He was there! He came! Elias could've fallen over in ecstasy.
"Elias, my darling," he was saying as he got closer, his voice on the very edge of breaking, "Elias I'm here. I'm here."
One inch at a time, Elias dropped his fingers, peering up at him with tears in his eyes. How could he possibly have any more tears left? Now that he was looking at him, he was overwhelmed with relief, absolutely flooded with the promise of safety. No Name's hair was so much longer than Elias remembered, put up in messy dreads, and his face was glowing healthily. Was there...genuine, actual love in his eyes? Elias hadn't seen that in August's face for so long, his stare was often only predatory and arrogant, despite how often he threw around the word, he didn't ever look like he felt love for Elias. He couldn't fight the tears anymore, he dropped his hands to the side in complete surrender and choked back a few pathetic whines.
"Hey, hey, it's ok," he assured him, timidly stepping toward him, "you're alright."
"I c-cant...I'm so happy t-to see you." He sobbed, biting his lip to try not to get too loud. "I'm s-so relieved."
With a small, pleased hum, he grabbed Elias's arm gently, testing how much touch he would allow. "Come here, Eli."
The nickname sounded heavenly back in his mouth, and hearing the way his voice glazed over it with no remorse or second guess made Elias positively break, stumbling the step forward into his welcoming arms.
Cologne and lemons and weed. That's what he smelled like. That's what Tyson smelled like. "Oh god. Tyson. Fucking hell, Tyson."
"I've got you Elias," Tyson whispered, voice watery with his own tears, "I'm here, darling."
Elias couldn't contain himself after that, he was ticcing melodically in Tyson's arms, his name slipping out every few seconds, his hands tightening and loosening around his shirt. "You're here, Tyson. I'm so...oh Tyson..."
Slowly, Tyson led him to his car, without fully letting go of him. Only when he opened the door for him did he pull away, watching him duck in with red, swollen eyes.
"You look so different," Elias mumbled, picking at a loose thread on his borrowed pants, "I feel like it's been years."
Tyson sighed heavily, reaching over to take his hand. "Nearly 10 months."
Elias closed his eyes, a breathless whine squeezing past his lips. Ten months?! He couldn't believe that it had really been that long since they'd seen each other, and yet at the same time it felt more like years. It made him feel sick, thinking about it in that way. Ten whole months of torture, of wondering when August would snap again, terrified he would get killed if he said something deemed unpleasant. "That's...that's a really long time."
Tyson gave a somber nod, then glanced over and saw how sad it had also made Elias, and he squeezed his leg softly and forced the subject to change. "God, I've missed your voice so very badly. I'm so happy to hear you talking."
Elias couldn't take his eyes off of Tyson, and he found himself desperately holding his wrist with both hands to make sure he didn't pull away. "I forgot your name." He blurted. "I'm so sorry."
"My name?" Tyson chuckled, throwing him a questioning glance.
"When I was out there I...all I could remember was your voice and your face. I-I forgot your n-name and I feel like shit a-about it. I'm so - fucking shit - I'm so sorry."
Tyson's jaw flexed a few times, and Elias thought maybe he'd pissed him off. You're off with August for not even a year and you forget about me? You stupid slut, I can't believe I ever thought I could love you-
"Elias, you've been stuck in an absolute nightmare for the longest time. I cannot even begin to imagine..." He trailed off, shaking his head to himself. "Things are gonna be ok. You're here and you remember my name now. That's all that matters."
A shuddery breath shook Elias's frame as he tried to calm himself, and he slowly reached up to loop his fingers around his throat. When his fingers fell onto bare skin, a jolt of panic shocked through him. He didn't realize how used to the collar he'd gotten, but now that it was gone he felt stripped, naked in the worst way. He kept his hand there, cold fingers pressed to his own pulse, the entire ride back to the apartment.
It looked about the same as he remembered, which didn't mean much because every memory was sort of hazy and muddled through the drugs and injury caused brain damage. He stood in the center of the living room while Tyson set his things down in the kitchen.
"Can I get you anything Elias?" Tyson asked when he came back in. He had a glass of water in his hands, and Elias cringed hard as he took it from him.
"People keep asking me that," he mumbled, "I'm not...not allowed..."
Tyson frowned at him, tilting his head to the side. He gave Elias a second to answer on his own, but he'd already decided to stop talking. "Not allowed what, Eli?"
"Not allowed to want things. I wish people would stop...stop asking what I want. I can't want anything."
The face Tyson made at that was like he smelt something foul, his nose wrinkling as he thought about what he'd been told. He had guessed that Elias would be damaged when he got back, but it had been so long he couldn't even fathom what broken pieces he'd have to work with.
"Ok. Finish your water and we'll get you in the shower. How's that?" He kept his voice gentle in the suggestion, relieved when some of the tension dropped from Elias's shoulders with a nod.
"Thank you."
"Let me know if you're ready to talk about anything, yeah?" As he asked, he inched his way forward, looking him over carefully. He could see the faint outline of sharp bruises around his neck, a large scar barely healed on his bottom lip, and on top of it all large purple and blue blotches scattered his pale skin. "Elias...I'm so sorry I didn't do more to stop him."
Now it was Elias's turn to flinch at the distasteful words, shaking his head quickly. "It was my choice, please don't be-"
"No, my love," Tyson protested, softly caressing his arm, "no, I should have done more. You got hurt, I should have done more to help you. I am so incredibly sorry."
Elias was tearful at the words, leaning into his touch eagerly. "Tyson I... I missed you so bad. I felt so empty without you." His lungs tightened as Tyson got closer, his hands staying so gentle against his arms that it was jarring. Elias had to remind himself that he wasn't going to hurt him, this was Tyson, Tyson wouldn't do anything to harm him, but he couldn't help the uncomfortable anxious burning in his chest when he got so close.
"I love you, Eli." He whispered.
The look on his face alone was enough to send Elias reeling, the genuine, evident adoration made his head spin. The last time someone was telling him they loved him, the only emotion he saw on his face was some sort of sick obsession, a look that told him the "love" was only surface level. He began to openly cry, barely able to bite back his sobs.
"Y-you...you do?" He whined, suddenly not able to look at him head on. The emotions were so strong and heavy that he felt weighed down. Again, he wondered how his body was still producing tears. It was probably why Tyson had given him the water. "Really?"
"Yes, really." With that, Tyson kissed the bridge of his nose ever so gently, even when he flinched a little and closed his eyes. "Now let's get you cleaned up, huh?"
"Please."
Being nude wasn't nearly as intimidating as it had been before, being forced to put himself on display for prying eyes and watering mouths ready to grab and pet and squeeze made him shamefully accustomed to not wearing clothes. Even though Tyson could easily overpower him and do any of that to him, he only touched him when he was sure it would be alright, only looked at him when he spoke. He was a little uneasy because he couldn't tell what Tyson was thinking, if he was disgusted or put off and that's why he wasn't touching him. Or maybe he'd done something wrong and Tyson was punishing him. Or he just wasn't pretty enough. He could make himself pretty, he was getting good at that, at carrying himself the way people liked him: as an object.
He did this as he was helped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. He was relieved when he felt Tyson's stare fixated on him, and he forced himself to look up at him through half-hooded lids. "Thank you, Ty," he murmured, in that way that August always loved, the way that made him go soft for a split second and then hold him closely and gently. When Tyson didn't do that, he took a shaky breath and closed the space between them, grabbing his bicep to get closer.
"Do you feel better?" He grumbled. Elias's eyes fluttered closed when Tyson reached out to run his thumb along his cheek.
"I do. Thank you so much." When he was met with silence, he turned his head slightly, pressing his lips against Tyson's wrist. His whole demeanor was screaming "touch me, please touch me" but Tyson didn't move, keeping his hand against his jaw, watching, waiting. Elias could scream. He was too used up, that's what it was. August would hardly touch him anymore either, for the same reason: because he was a used up toy, no fun anymore. And Tyson felt the same way. It killed him to know that he wouldn't ever experience the bliss of Tyson's adoring hands on him, his warm mouth murmuring sweet nothings against his skin, his name falling from his lips, ever again.
"What are you thinking about in that pretty little head of yours?" Tyson asked him, shifting a little to stroke his hair, humming when Elias pressed into his touch desperately.
"I'm so...I'm afraid that I'm useless now." He admitted. "I know that you won't use me and...and if I'm not being used I...i just want to be important. Useful."
Tyson let out a soft, seemingly disappointed sigh, one that made Elias cringe. "Is that what it was like with August?"
He nodded slowly, not even making an effort to look up at him, too afraid he would see anger or betrayal or even nothing. That's what he was really afraid of, seeing no emotion there, the same blank stare August often gave him, toward the end. "I was just a toy, and August used me for a little while but then other people...they just started taking me too, because I was made t-to be used. But I guess I messed up cause August started hiding me and no one was allowed to touch me or speak to me and I don't want that to happen again, Ty, I want to be useful and good-"
"Eli, take a breath angel," he cooed, stepping closer to him, "I'm not them. You're a human being, and I care about you a great deal, I'm not going to use you."
Don't cry, Elias thought to himself, save your tears for when you really need them. Don't fucking cry. You look so ugly when you cry. He noticed that the voice saying it wasn't his own, rather August's low grumble. He wondered if it would always be there, saying awful things in the back of his mind. Tyson pulled his hand away, leaving Elias to sink into a frigid, freezing loneliness, the feeling of being in the basement was now inside of his chest. He brought his own fingers to his throat, wrapping his hands around his slender, bruised neck to ground himself. He hated himself for admitting it, but he knew deep down he'd look so much nicer with the collar, and maybe Tyson would use him then. Or he'd at least look at him the way he was meant to be looked at, with an intrigue and a thirst that barely overshadowed the guilt of it all. He knew the look well, he saw it every time he got up the courage to look up at the people using him. The dark eyes, the shameful pink tint to cheeks. Tyson would look at him like that, if only he was wearing his collar.
"Don't do this to me," he mumbled, voice breaking just a little, "you don't know how bad I n-need...i just need you-" he cut himself off with a swallow, shaking his head. He wasn't allowed needs or wants, what was he saying? Tyson could use him or ignore him however he saw fit, why did he think he had any say in the matter? "I'm sorry."
"Hey, don't be sorry, love. Talk to me, tell me what you need."
"Nothing," he rushed, smiling through his tears, "I don't need anything. I'm perfect."
Tyson looked on the verge of arguing, ready to pry until he got something out of him, something worthy of a reaction. He knew, though, that Elias had shut himself up again, nervous to even be standing under his gaze. So he stepped away, nodding at him slowly. "Let's get you dressed, then."
Elias was thankful for the luxury of Tyson dressing him, after the whole day spent being treated far too well, too much like a person for his comfort. It was easy to slip back into the practiced doe-eyed, mindless little toy mindset as Tyson pulled his arms through his shirt, holding him steady as he slipped pants on. When Tyson stepped back to look at him, he had a fond grin on his face.
"You're so cute," he cooed, ruffling his hair playfully as he stepped away, "I missed you so much."
Elias blushed, bowing his head as a thank you. He felt cold under his stare, cooled down too quickly from the shower. He couldn't help the tremor that shook him slightly, and the second Tyson noticed, he reached out to grab his shoulders gently, pulling him against his chest. The warmth of being close to him made him weak at the knees, and Tyson tightened his grip as he keened against him. "Oh, Tyson," he whispered, "ah, you're so warm."
"Mm. I could hold you forever. You fit so perfectly in my arms." He gave him a light squeeze, listening to his breathing hitch gently.
"Tyson," he whined, trembling fingers twisting into his shirt, "ple-please touch me. I need you to touch me."
"You need it?" He repeated.
"Y-yes, Ty. I need it so bad it aches. Please." His voice was desperate, slightly fear tinted by hearing his own request. I can't have needs, he reminded himself, but this, oh this is the blood in my veins. This is the oxygen in my lungs. I will die if I can't have this. "Oh god, Tyson, please."
At that, Tyson's lips fell against his throat, causing him to tilt his head back with a small gasp. His skin was hot from Tyson's breath and it was constricting in the same comfortable way his collar was. "I love you, Elias."
Even though it was just a hushed whisper against his skin, Elias swooned, body light and airy at the words, Tyson's hands the only thing keeping him tethered to earth. "Ah...thank you.."
Tyson pulled off to look at him, a small grin on his face as he looked him over. The second he was off of him, Elias replaced Tyson's mouth on his neck with his fingers, dropping his head back down, face flushed and shoulders high. It was too much, entirely too much to have Tyson so close to him, touching him that way, and simultaneously it wasn't nearly enough.
"Anything else?" Tyson teased, leaning forwards as if to try and entice him. Elias was glued to the floor, refusing to look up at him after a breathless whine left his throat. "What is it, baby boy?"
He watched Elias melt at the words, legs shaking slightly as he stepped forward, quickly dropping to his knees in front of Tyson. He kept his arms raised in front of him in submission until Tyson took his wrists in his hands. He looked utterly broken as he peered up at him, the shower didn't help with the cuts and bruises as much as Tyson had been hoping. The bruises under his eyes seemed near permanent, and Tyson sighed heavily.
"Let me...let me make you feel good," Elias whispered, fingers reaching for the button of his jeans. Tyson's grip on his wrists was tight though, and Elias instinctively fell pliable in his grip, dropping his stretching fingers, when he realized Tyson wasn't going to let him move any more. "Wanna make myself useful."
Tyson dropped to his knees as well, keeping his grip secure on Elias as he did, trying to be at eye level. It was difficult because he was so much smaller than Tyson and he wouldn't look up at him anyways, but Tyson returned one of his hands to his own lap and coaxed him to look up with a finger just under his chin. "My love," he soothed him, "you don't even know what you're asking for. You've only been home an hour."
"But I-I don't...Ty..." His bottom lip trembled as he spoke, and now that his arm was free he once again rubbed nervously at his throat. Tyson had just started picking up on it, and all it made him think of was having to go pick up Elias from the hospital the first time, being told he'd been strangled. "P...please, Tyson. Hu-hurts."
"Look at you, Eli. You're shaking. Why don't we get you something to eat?"
"No!" He whined, looking rather afraid at his own outburst. "Tyson, I'm begging you-"
He froze when Tyson's hand replaced his own, fingers loose around his neck. "What is this, why do you keep doing that?"
Elias flinched a little at the harsh tone he used, then he relaxed into his hand. "I don't have my...uh...a collar. I'm not used to it yet, I guess."
"A collar?! Ugh, christ. Why would he..." He trailed off as he saw the sad, dejected wince pass over Elias's face. "Hey, no, it's not you, love. You did nothing wrong."
Elias nodded slowly, then straightened out his posture a little, taking a deep breath to reassure himself. "I'm sorry. I won't whine anymore."
Tyson was shocked by the quick change in demeanor, how, when Tyson's tone changed with him, Elias seemed to correct himself to not look so bothered, so ill. The way he carried himself was more thought out, like he was aware of every muscle in his body, how to present himself in a pleasant way. He stood up with a huff. "Ok, beautiful. Come on, I'll make you some food."
Elias let Tyson pull him up to his feet, then followed him to the kitchen. He was set down in a chair to watch and wait (and look pretty, don't forget to look pretty, Tyson keeps looking over at him and smiling softly but only when he remembers to be pretty). He ignored the burning need in his chest to be underneath the knife Tyson was using to cut up fresh fruit, or to be the water running over his hands as he washed the juice off. He was jealous that he couldn't be closer to him than he was, so jealous it hurt him. But he stayed in his place at the table, because it's where Tyson wanted him to be. And that's all that mattered.
#emotional whump#whump#whump aesthetic#whump aftermath#whump art#whump blog#whump character#whump comfort#whump comic#whump community#whumpblr#whumpee#whump prompt#whump drabble#whump tropes#whump ideas#whump scenario#elias x tyson#captivity whump#whump concept#whump caretaker#whump dialogue#whump dynamics#whump fic#whump fluff#whump gore#whump inspiration#whump intro#whump inspo#whump mention
17 notes
·
View notes
Note
hey I have a jj request? So y/n is a pogue in the gang and they are all heading out for a boating day. When they all arrive at y/n s house she doesn’t come out. She is slightly new to the gang so they don’t relly know abt her home life. Jj and John b go inside to find her, they see broken glass and debris everywhere in the house and even some blood. They find her sobbing hiding under her bed. When she sees them she immediately tells them to leave. They say no (jj is protective)
your home
author’s note - here’s a little gift because i almost have 300 followers because of you. so, thank you guys so much :)
synopsis - requested by anon! you and JJ are more alike than he could ever imagine.
warnings - eludes to domestic violence and mentions blood. 1.2k of protective JJ
“You’re worthless!”
The yelling was ringing in your ears, though your mother’s voice was long gone and she could be found sprawled across the ratty tan couch, blackout drunk. That was her excuse every time, baby I’m sorry, it was the alcohol and y ‘know I’d never hurt you in my right mind, yet she still cradled her drink like she should’ve held you, her daughter. Her fingertips are still brushing the glass bottle on the hardwood floor beside her.
The shattered tinted glass lined the ground as you crawled through the living room and towards your bedroom, grazing the wall to keep you steady. Your hands stung as the sharp material pierced your smooth palm. But you held back your whimpers and cries, fearing the passed out woman’s wrath. You’d deal with the pain silently if it meant one more moment of serene silence in behind the walls of your white picket fence home.
You ripped the bottom of your shirt, the gray fabric turned muddied as you wrapped it tightly around your hands. Ignoring the familiar stench following each hit, you hid your aching cheeks in your bloodied palms. This one was bad. Worse than ever before. You worried the bruises wouldn’t fade fast enough for your overly observant friends to miss the marks. JJ would notice, you were sure.
Pulling your glass scratched knees up to your chest, you gave out harsh heaves, trying to silence the sobs pressing against your lungs. You felt lost, like the marsh’s waters were rising around you, muting the summer breeze pushing through your windows and emphasizing the ringing that hadn’t left your body.
“Where is she?”
JJ was getting worried. The Pogues had agreed to spend the day of the ‘HMS POGUE’ and enjoy the last moments of the August sun, but you weren’t out on your family’s dock.
“I’m sure it’s fine, JJ.”
“Let’s just wait a couple more minutes and then you can head in to check.”
Kiara and Pope were trying to reassure the blonde boy, but JJ and John B were still worried, quietly waiting was never something they excelled at.
“That’s it.”
“JJ-“”
“No! I’m not waiting, my girl might need me, so fuck waiting.”
The friends exchanged glances at JJ word choice. My girl. They weren’t shocked, you and the Maybank were always closer, more affectionate, than the rest of the Pogues.
“Alright? I’m going in there.”
JJ didn’t look back to see if his friends were going to follow him, hurried steps were close behind him when JB clapped his hand on the blue eyed boy’s shoulder.
“Let’s get your girl, yeah?”
They both smiled before heading closer to the seemingly peaceful household. The lawn was perfectly mowed, the white paint wasn’t cracked anywhere on the panels. The perfect home.
The two friends stepped up onto the porch, the screen door squealing when JJ pulled it open. The house was eerily quiet, lacking your familiar giggle they always could identify you with.
“Y/N?”
Your heart dropped, through blurred hearing you could make out JJ’s smooth voice reverberating against the wall. You winced when glass cracking sounded in the silent home. You could feel the drowning sensation continue to push against your lungs, choking gasps slipping from your lips.
JJ looked down when he stepped on something haphazardly thrown on the floor, a broken beer bottle was stuck to the bottom of his worn white converse. His pulse sped up when he saw an environment so similar to his place. He shuffled through the entryway, John B following close behind, but they stopped short seeing your mom laid out on the family couch, liquor glass splayed around her sleeping form. Red dried around her dry knuckles.
“Wha- what,” the blonde boy’s heart beating harshly against his ribs, “Y/N? Baby girl, where are you?”
John B tapped JJ’s shoulder frantically, making out pained whimpers from your room. The two boys rushed into the yellow painted room, JJ’s heart stopping when he made out your curled in form.
“Baby?”
“N- no. No, stay back,” he froze, hearing your cries, “please, just- just stay back.”
“Okay. Okay, Y/N. I’m staying right here, yeah. Can you see me?”
You shook your head, a mixture of panic and hurt overwhelming your senses. His heart broke seeing you so helpless.
“Okay. Can you breathe,” another whispered gasp, “baby… I need you to breathe with me. Can you hear my breathing?”
You just cried, curling further into yourself hating that JJ and John B were watching you so closely.
“P-please, just- just leave,” neither of them moved, “leave!”
“Alright, John B can you go out to the boat? I’ll meet you back at the chateau?”
The brunette saw the pleading look in JJ’s eyes and nodded and patted his back before stepping out of the room.
“Baby girl,” he teared up when you flinched as he crouched by you, “hey, hey. I’m not coming closer, okay? It’s your move. I’m just staying right here.”
JJ winced at the cracks in his voice, willing his pain away. The last thing he needed was you being edged by more emotions clouding your senses. Your fingertips were trembling, something you’d never been able to control, when you reached out towards JJ and gripped his purple shirt in your hands.
“Hi, baby, there you go,” he moved closer, watching for your reaction, relief flooding his veins when you let his arms wrap you in their warmth, “come back to me,Y/N. Can you feel my shirt?”
Your eyes welled up with fresh tears when you nodded, the smooth, worn fabric grounding you to the boy’s arms around you.
“Good. That’s really good. Breathe with my chest, can you feel it rise and fall?”
With you hiding in his neck, JJ felt your tears dripping onto his warm skin but he didn’t care as long as you were with him. You listened to his heartbeat as it settled to a calming rhythm thumping against your ear, your chest breathing in time with him subconsciously.
“Why- why didn’t you tell me, baby?”
“I didn’t, um, want you to- you to worry,” you hated the quiver in your voice.
“I’m always going to worry. Always, baby girl.”
JJ let out a breath when your heavy eyelids finally shut. Still cuddled into his chest, JJ lifted you onto his lap, familiar calloused fingertips lulling you to fall asleep against him. Your whimpers settled into sniffles as you finally let your mind rest.
“I’m going to be your home, baby. We’re going to be happy and I’m gonna keep you safe. Just me and my girl.”
#jj maybank#outer banks#recs#like damn#outerbanksedit#obxedit#fic rec#jj maybank x reader#obx jj#i want a jj so someone please supply one
701 notes
·
View notes
Text
A New Year’s Kiss
Summary: Daveed plans to propose to Reader on her favorite holiday as he prepares the night before the proposal he thinks back through memories of their three-year relationship.
Pairing: Daveed Diggs x Black!Reader
AN: I’m giving the sisters names since the Reader comes from a big family.
Series Masterlist
It was a cold night in New York City, you sat in the living room of your new three-bedroom apartment sipping on a cup of hot ginger tea. Daniel crawled all over the place, loving the ample amount of space he had to chase the new family dog, Rocky, a Beagle puppy. Daniel’s laughter made you smile widely; you loved the life you and Daveed built for yourselves. The new apartment was coming along nicely, you finally unpacked the last of the boxes, thus ending the living out of a box phase. You decorated the walls with pictures of family and friends, there’s even a wall dedicated to the tv shows, movies, plays, and musicals the two of you have been in. Even though you truly think that it was Daveed’s way to brag about your accomplishments every time someone came over to visit, despite the many times he denied it. The sound of the front door opening alerted Daniel that Daveed was home, he crawled to the front of the apartment, screaming at the top of his lungs. Daveed scooped Daniel and kissed the top of his head where his curly dark brown hair was starting to grow.
“Hey, little man! Where’s Mommy?” Daniel pointed toward the living room. Daveed walked over and plopped down next to you. You shared a quick kiss before Daniel slid himself out of Daveed’s lap to keep playing with Rocky.
“How was your day?” Daveed asked he wrapped an arm around you to pull you close to him.
“It was fine, just like the first day of rehearsals.” After being in The Lion King for about three months, you landed the lead role in a new musical called WET PAINT. “We start previews at the end of February. How was it with Anthony?”
“It was great, babe. We got the song done Rafa’s gonna send in his verse tomorrow.”
“That—” Then there were several loud knocks at the door
“You expecting company?”
“Remember my mom and sisters are coming up for New Years,” You hopped off the couch and greeted your family at the door, they were staying at a hotel not far from your apartment and you planned for them to come over and visit since your sisters haven’t seen Daniel since he was born.
“Hey Mom,” You pulled your mom in for a hug
“Hey, Y/N!”
“Come in guys,” Your mom and three sisters walked into your apartment,
“Where’s my grandson?” Your mom wondered loudly
“Nana!” Just like that Daniel made his way over to your mom who swooped down to pick him up.
“Hi, Nana’s baby, Y/N, I love the new place.” Your mom said as everyone followed you into the kitchen.
“Thanks, we needed more space, with Daniel getting bigger and having a dog.”
“Is there any other reason why you and Daveed needed more space?” Your oldest sister, Fatima, playfully suggested
“Um, girl no, Daniel isn’t even one yet. I’m just getting back to my pre-baby body. Oh, by the way, can you re-dip my braids tonight?”
“I was gonna offer but I didn’t want to be rude,” Fatima teased
“Shut up, rude ass.”
“So,” your older sister, Mara started “have you thought about having another baby?”
“I mean, yeah but not anytime soon.”
“What about marriage?” Your other sister, Kalani, added
“It’s been discussed, we both know we’re in this for the long haul.”
“Wedding bells may be in your near future,” Mara teased
“Can we wait a minute, we just moved, Daniel’s about to turn one, I just went back to work, I need some more time.”
“Girl, you waited three years, how much longer?” Fatima reasoned
“Why are you guys interrogating me?” You asked overwhelmed knowing that Daveed was well within earshot.
“Alright, alright, we’ll leave you alone, come on and let me fix your hair.”
Your sisters and mom ended up staying well past dinner and you didn’t mind it one minute. After graduating from Howard University, you moved to New York and didn’t look back. The last time you saw your sisters, in person, was at your baby shower and that was a year ago. After eating the crab cakes your Mom made and about three glasses of Merlot, you currently playing Black Card Revoked with your sisters, one of your favorite games, India Aire playing in the background.
“Okay, so this is majority rules, ‘You know it’s about to be a fight when you hear someone say? A. We need to talk… B. I just find it funny how… C. So what you not gonna do… or D. Didn’t I tell you…’” Fatima read
“C!” You said confidently, “That’s how all my fights started in high school.
“Naw I gotta go with D,” Mara shouted “D is one of them sneak attacks from behind.”
“Like that time, you grabbed that girl’s hair,” Kalani reminisced
“Yeah, she was bothering Y/N, and I was the only one in high school with her and I was not gonna let some bitch mess with my sister.”
“And that’s on period,” Fatima said
“Pooh!” Kalani added, making the sisters laugh
Daveed noticed your mom in the kitchen washing the dishes and saw it as the perfect opportunity.
“Hey, Daveed, sorry about the wedding talk with my daughters. I promise I didn’t say anything to them.” Your mom said in hushed tones
“It’s okay, I just wanted to show you a picture of the ring,” Daveed pulled out his phone and showed your mother the engagement ring. Shortly after you had Daniel, Daveed came to your mother and asked for her blessing, of course, she agreed and helped him find the perfect ring and the way he should propose. Knowing you were a private person he was going to give you a gift after midnight when everyone left your place, a photo album and on the last page, he was going to pop the question.
“It’s beautiful Daveed, where is it?”
“I keep it on me at all times,” Daveed pulled the engagement box out of his pocket.
“Is that what I think it is?” Fatima gushed
“Shush, get over here girl.” Your mother urged “Where’s Y/N?”
“She’s in the living room, so you’re gonna propose?”
“Yeah,” Daveed said quietly “tomorrow.”
“Aw, I’m so happy for you two, how are you gonna propose?”
“With a photo album,” Daveed replied a small smile on his face
“Oooohhhh, I can’t wait,” Fatima said clapping her hands together
“Fatima it’s your turn and you about to get skipped!” You shouted from the living room
“Girl, skip me I’m winning anyway,” Fatima said walking back over
Daveed sat in the living room long after you had fallen asleep and your mom and sisters went back to their hotel. He was going over the photo album to make sure that everything was perfect for tomorrow. The first picture he came across was from the opening night party of the First National Tour of Hamilton, which is where the two of you met. After consuming many drinks from the open bar the two of you snapped a very drunk selfie. Daveed had kissed your cheek and you were laughing.
March 2017
After you spilled your wine on Daveed, it seemed the two of you were attached at the hip. Between the bar and the dance floor, Daveed was not far from you and you didn’t mind at all. There was a lavish balcony looking over San Francisco, you and Daveed were laughing at a high school story you were telling him.
“So, the girlfriend started hitting the boyfriend mind you, we’re all in line for the Haunted Mansion ride and it got so bad that we were told to get out of line, so I never got to ride the Haunted Mansion. Long story short, my first and only trip to Disneyland before all of this was pretty bad.”
“Well, that just means we have to go back.”
“When?”
“Whenever,”
“Daveed, we can’t just drive to Disneyland and I don’t know you like that.”
“We can fly, that’s not a problem.”
“Did you forget that I’m on a tour right now?”
“Ain’t y’all here until August.”
“Well, I still don’t know you.”
“You can get to know me.”
“What if I don’t want to?” You challenged
“I can get us Fast Passes.”
“Oh, so you got it like that?” You teased flirtatiously
“Yeah, uh, I got some connections,” Daveed smirked
“Alright, let’s go.”
“It’s a date,” Daveed smiled
“It’s a date.”
The next picture was a picture Jasmine took of them at an award show, that night you said I love you to each other for the first time.
June 2018
You and Daveed had attended your first red carpet event of the award season that evening. It was also the first time you were at an exclusive event as a couple. The paparazzi went crazy all of them wanting to snap pictures of Daveed and his new girlfriend. It was all overwhelming to you. Of course, you have been on a red carpet before but not for an award show. While it was exciting it was also draining. Unfortunately, you had to leave that night to go back to New York you had a show the next day, what made it worse, was that Daveed had to stay in LA for an interview about Blindspotting. Now at the airport, you hugged your boyfriend tightly not wanting to let go.
“You gonna miss your flight,” He mumbled into the crook of your neck.
“I don’t care,” You said, tiredness evident in your voice.
“It’s only two days, go make that money,” Daveed said trying to lift your spirits. Daveed cupped your face and kissed you on the lips.
“I love you,” He said tenderly, you looked at him wide-eyed. He mentally slapped himself for saying that out loud. He scanned your face for any sign that you would say it back. When he didn’t he pulled away from you, suddenly.
“Sorry, for saying that, uh—-”
“Daveed—-”
“I um, I hope you have a safe flight. Call me when you land.” Daveed said quickly, wanting to end the already awkward moment. He turned to walk away but you grabbed his arm and pulled him in for another kiss.
“You didn’t let me say it back, dork.” You gave him a quick peck on the lips “I love you too,” Daveed smiled widely and kissed you once more.
“Can you say it again?” You playfully rolled your eyes
“I love you too.” Daveed leaned in to kiss you but you put up your hand to stop him
“I’m gonna miss my flight, messing with you. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
January 2019
“Happy New Year!!” You smiled while you kissed Daveed. The two of you were hosting a New Year’s Eve party for your friends at Daveed’s New York apartment. This was the first big event the two of you hosted. Well, it was mainly you, Daveed just let you do your thing. You pulled away from the kiss and raised an eyebrow, you know that there was something was on his mind.
“What are you thinking about?”
“You should move in with me.”
“Huh? How much have you had to drink?” You asked but you were just as tipsy after taking quite a few shots out the Grammy.
“Not as much as you.” You lightly slapped his chest you examined his face to make sure he wasn’t playing a joke
“You serious?”
“Hella,”
“Aw, so I’m gonna have more than a drawer.” Daveed playfully rolled his eyes
“You can have a whole dresser,” You gave a peck on the cheek, smiling widely.
“I love you,”
“Love you too.”
The next day, Daveed did his best to keep his cool which was easy because your sisters, Mom, Jasmine, Kim, Rafael, Barbara, and Dountes were all at your place for New Year's Eve and served as the perfect distraction. Anthony was in Times Square performing on the Main Stage and would be the last act before the ball dropped so you decided to host a party.
You caught Daveed staring, smirking you walked over to him. You were wearing a brown bodycon dress and matching heels. Feeling the effects of the alcohol had you feeling more confident. You sensually wrapped your arms around Daveed making sure to caress his muscles.
“We have some time before midnight,” you suggested Daveed smirked and kissed your forehead.
“With your Mom here?” Daveed asked with raised eyebrows.
“I can be quiet,”
“After everyone’s gone. So we don’t have to worry about being quiet.” You pouted which made Daveed snicker.
“It’s shot o’clock!” Your sister Mara called from the kitchen
“Oh, so we doing body shots?” Rafael suggested eying your sister.
“Body shots?” Fatima questioned
“I’m down,” Mara responded giving Rafael the same look.
“No one is down for anything, this is not some frat party.”
“How much you wanna bet, Rafa’s gonna—”
“Don’t even finish that sentence, I don’t need the visual.”
Midnight came and went and Daveed’s nervousness was at an all-time high. He watched as your guests left one by one. Neither of you were surprised when Mara and Rafa slipped away shortly after the ball dropped. Surprisingly, Daniel stayed up until the ball dropped, but went to sleep shortly after.
“I’m about to go change so we can start cleaning up.”
“Hold on, I wanna give you something first,” Daveed said you sighed heavily.
“Babe, can you give it to me after I change? I wanna get out my shoes.”
“It’s not gonna take long. I promise, go in the living room.”
You sleepily walked back to the living room and plopped down on the sofa, whatever Daveed had up his sleeve better be worth it. Daveed returned with a purple photo album in hand and handed it to you.
“What’s this?”
“Just some pictures, something I put together.” You smiled, tears threatening to fall.
“Aw, you’re so sweet, thank you so much, baby.”You kissed his cheek before looking through the album and reacting to the pictures. It was so crazy to see the timeline of your relationship, who would’ve thought that back in 2017 you would be where the two of you are now.
You flipped through the album until you got to the last page. It was an empty page and dated for today. Confused you turned to look at Daveed only to find him already on bended knee with a ring box in hand. You covered your face as the tears started falling. Daveed gently removed your hands from your face. You saw that he was holding back tears as well.
“When you purposely split your wine on me—”
“Oh my gosh, Daveed!”
“I knew you were something special the first time I laid my eyes on you. Baby, you are the love of my life. I want to spend the rest of it with you. I kept going over what I was gonna say or how I wanted to do this. I wanted it to be perfect because you deserve nothing but perfection. I love you so much. Will you marry me?” You were full-on crying at this point. The album already made you emotional but, the both of you had discussed marriage but still, this proposal is everything you’ve could‘ve dreamed of.
“Yes, yes of course.” Daveed slid the ring onto your ring finger and you pulled him in for a kiss. This is always how you imagine your engagement would be, just you and your fiancé.
#hamilton imagine#hamilton rpf#daveed diggs#daveed diggs x black!reader#family is everything#daveed diggs imagine#daveed x black!reader
47 notes
·
View notes
Note
Ok kinda vague I know, but any fluff to smut headcanons about any Henry character???
Fluffy Headcanons: Falling in Love with you
How about the moment when he realizes he is in love with you and tries to get your attention? 🥰
Henry
Henry claims he doesn’t know how to act when he likes a girl. It’s kind of true and even worse since you are not just any girl. The truth is he liked you from the moment you were introduced. A liking that kept blooming in his chest whenever he saw you or even heard your name.
He always enjoyed speaking to you, the way you really listened and you couldn’t help but notice how he stared back at you in his ocean blue eyes, drowning into every word you said.
Often he would text you, sending you silly memes, cute animal videos and asking you about your day. He would compliment you too, on occasion, admiring your mind, your humour (you make him laugh like no one else does) and your beauty too of course.
But he never said a word, too afraid you won’t return his feelings and the magic of the possibility that one day you’ll come out first, will be broken.
More characters below the cut!
Charles
Charles has a history, no one ever refused him and he was probably with more women than the king of England himself. Yet he matured to be a fine man.
You vex him at first, a spitfire, so stubborn and full of opinions. You won’t settle and act properly like most of the girls at court. Yet it’s not too long before he realizes these are all the qualities he likes about you.
Being a man of culture, sophistication and romance, he begins to write you love poems and sends one of the servants to leave them in your bed-chamber, he adds a flower to every note. In his letters, he confesses his love to you in the most erotic and sensual ways. Oh how he would like to taste the honey off your lips and feel your heart beating next to his naked skin.
August
Okay, let’s just say that if Kingstach here “decided” he is in love with, you are in grave trouble. August doesn’t take no for an answer and if he sets his mind on a target he means to succeed.
The thing is, a man like August doesn’t love, or at least that’s what he’d like to think. You caught his attention a while ago, at first you intrigue him, he finds himself trying to find information about you, either by gently interrogating you or putting his CIA resources to use. He finds out where you live and watches you through the window every night, learning more about your behaviour, determining your emotional status.
You start finding little gifts at your door, you are not sure who they are from, he never leaves his name or any indication. It starts small, a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates, which escalates to expensive luxurious gifts, some quite disturbing. When you throw away the set of outrageous lingerie, he fumes, yet there is nothing he can do about it. He is about to go and do something extreme and if anyone finds out how he feels about you, it will put you in danger.
That’s when he realizes, he likes you. Guess he will just have to take you with him then.
Stephen
The little baby. He is still too young and you are his first love. He works for your parents, sort of and known you since you were both kids and ever since then he liked you and imagined how you’ll be his first kiss.
But he is shy, he blushes when you are nearby, scratching at his nape and smiling sheepishly. He does everything around the house to appease you if you need something fixed he’ll fix it in second. He even goes out of his way to buy you an expensive typewriter because he knows you love to write stories, it’s all the money he has in the world and he spends it on you.
He finally gains the courage to ask you out on a stroll to which you obviously approve. During the walk, he holds your hand and when the star begins to shine he moves to close the distance between you and press a gentle kiss on your lips.
Walter
The big grumpy bear hardly has time to anything but work and sulking all day long. Police enforcement is a harsh life and the things he has to witness surrounds his world in darkness. He is a tough shell, yet beneath that brooding face, there is a soft heart that needs to be loved.
You catch his eye right away, it’s your graceful empathy, the way you care for others and look into his eyes as if you can drink up all that sorrow in him. He never shows any emotion on his face other than his usual frown but then he brings you a caramel macchiato every morning and sometimes a delicious pastry.
One day you get to the office and as he appears on your doorstep to greet you “good morning” you notice he hasn’t brought you anything this time. Instead, he asks if you’d like to have breakfast with him someplace nice.
Captain Syverson
Do not expect the big grunt to be romantic and offer you flowers. Sy is all confidence and a pinch of arrogance too. He knows ladies are lining up and he knows he can make them drop one by one. But he only has eyes for you.
Since you work together, he is gonna come up as an asshole at first, being extra hard on your ass. But then he is also kinda protective and possessive. Always making sure your helmet is tight enough around your head before heading on a mission.
Your unit spends some time at the local pub and this guy tries to pick you up. Sy notices you don’t like it and before you even manage to say a word he comes up and asks the guy to leave you alone, nicely. That guy must have some death wish since he ignores Sy and keeps harassing you.
Next thing you know that jerk is on the floor in a half-nelson hold and a black eyes. After that, Sy doesn’t even need to ask, your panties are on his floor by the end of the night.
Geralt
They say that Witchers don’t have any emotions, but it’s quite the opposite. They feel more intensely than anyone else.
Every time he comes to the tavern and finds you there he can’t see or hear anyone else but you. He sits by your side while you get drunk on ale and beat him at Gwent. Silently, never uttering a word, he looks at you adoringly while you speak and tell him your crazy tales.
When it’s time for you to go home he walks you to your door, making sure you make it safe. Drunkenly you swagger onto him and dare to steal a kiss from his perfect lips. Geralt smiles, stroking your hair back and looking into your eyes. He doesn’t dare taking advantage of you in your current situation and only wish you’d remember you kiss him come morning.
#Henry Cavill#Headcanons#August Walker#Geralt Of Rivia#Detective Walter Marshall#Walter Marshall#Captain Syverson#Charles Brandon#henrycavill#Headcanon: Henry Cavill#Headcanon: August Walker#Headcanon: Captain Syverson#Stephen Colley#Night Hunter#The Witcher#Sand Castle#i capture the castle#The Tudors
694 notes
·
View notes