#came with a couple scratches and a crack on the back of the case from transit most likely

[coyote-cemetery]

good morning gorgeous

[fanzou]

I Can Love You

A VALENTINES SPECIAL

✗ Pairing: Law Trafalgar x Fem!Reader

✗ Summary: You insist that Nico Robin is the right one for him, but he wants to show you why you’re wrong.

✗ Total WC: 6.5K

✗ CW: SMUT! Reader is a little jeeeeelly of Robin and Law’s friendship, reader is also a Straw Hat, LAW HAS A BIG DICK, p in v sex, Law teases too much [let me know if I missed any]

✗ A/N: Enjooooooy!

“You know, I was thinking,” you start, and he's about ready to roll his eyes. “Robin and you’d make a great couple.”

Even though he was facing the opposite direction of you, you can tell Law’s face was littered in a scowl.

After spending over 2 weeks with him, he was easier to read like that. It came with its perks and, well, Law was Law and there wasn’t much else.

“And why’s that?” He feigns interest in what you say, raising his head in your direction while throwing the blood littered gauze pads in the trash can next to the desk. “I think you both would complement each other pretty well. She’s quiet, you’re quiet, she’s pretty wise, you are too.” You pause for a moment, then continue, “She’s also very gorgeous.” You wiggle your eyebrows, with a mischievous look.

“I suggest you take care of those wounds on your body before you worry about who I should or shouldn’t be with.”

Known for your blunt and straightforward manner—he respected it, in truth—pirates weren’t known to talk so formally amongst each other anyways, but this, he would be lying straight out of his teeth had he said he wasn’t taken aback by today’s new invasive question you’d ask him. You’ve said some weird things, never anything about potential love interests. His love life yes—which was… nonexistent, in your own words.

And yes, you make that very clear to him. A lot.

He looks over to you with your finger to your chin as if deep in thought, like you Straw Hats even had anything to give thought to anyway, and you finally speak, "Yeah... she might be too good for you. Scratch the thought."

He chuckles, “You wound me.”

“But if you had to choose from any woman in your entire life to ever marry, who would you choose?” And he has to remind himself that you are completely and entirely under the influence of painkillers, otherwise he would have mistook you for a 5-year-old with the way the question was structured.

“Definitely not you.”

“Law!” You pout. He makes sure that his back is facing you again so he could sneak in a little smile. “That’s actually a good thing. I’m out of your league.”

He turns around to look at you, hand on his heart, “My heart truly cannot take anymore heartbreak.” He says in the most monotone voice you’ve ever heard from him.

For most, it was weird that you were left behind by your captain, but in this case—and with a whole lot of begging from the Straw hat himself—you were rushed to Law’s medical aid. Mindlessly running into battle to protect your friends from a life or death situation wasn’t so appealing when you had to face the consequences for the next month.

But you insisted that you didn’t regret your decision if it meant that everyone was safe; or in Law’s words, you were just careless and dumb.

Even though Luffy himself had to be pried away from your side by the swordsman and the cook while you were unconscious for the first few days, Law had explained to you that they had to get a move on (In your crews complete and utter reluctance) for the next up and coming battle when you came to. And when you found out, you were a bit upset to be parted away from them, but quickly found comfort in Law's presence while you were bed-ridden, cracking jokes about how you’d call him captain until your time was up on his submarine.

He looks over to your bandaged condition, high off your ass, and he almost wants to laugh. Even in your drugged out state, you talk about your friends in such high regard, and try playing wingman with him.

You disrupt the comfortable silence while he looks over some of the stuff on his desk, “You’re not gonna believe this, but I’m feeling much better. Y’think I can go back on my own ship yet?” You’re already stretching your arms out. He calls your name with his signature “-ya” attached to it in a scolding manner, “What did I say about moving?” Damn Straw hat.

You immediately deflate and look down, “You’re not letting me do anything. I feel fine.”

“It feels that way until you move a little too much and start to open your wounds again, give it another week and we’ll see how you’re doing.” He’s looking through some pages on his desk. “We can go on another walk tomorrow if you really wanna move that badly.”

“Thank you, Cap!” You beam at him, he feels his heart jump a little bit.

-

Another week has passed and you’re itching to go back to your found family. It’s been this way for the past three weeks, but as the month goes by, you’d just grow more and more eager.

You made him question why he was even doing this often times.

He was a little offended by your verbalized pleas to get out of here, like he wasn’t helping you. In his own little ways, he tried satiating your boredom by doing things that were almost out of character for someone such as himself. He’d even let you tell him about your fellow crew members to make you a little happier.

You’d talk about Luffy quite often, maybe because he knew him way better than anyone else.

You talked about Robin and Nami as well, about how you felt like they were the sisters you never had growing up, about how close you were to them, about how you each met, he was almost sick of how much you talked about them. But if it meant that you were doing okay then that was all that mattered.

Is that why you said that thing a couple weeks ago? About Robin-ya? There was a sincerity in your voice. Robin was a beautiful woman just as you proclaimed, she was around his age, and all the things you said about her held truth.

Maybe it was true—Nico Robin was the woman perfectly crafted for him. And he couldn’t deny her beauty.

He brushes his hand over his face--maybe out of confusion or frustration, he can't decide. But he hated the conflicting feelings that resided in his mind, they made no sense. He never had an issue with women. He didn't want to.

From the day he met you, his beating heart understood an appeal his mind couldn't, you had an annoying personality. You made dumb decisions. You said things too brutally. You never thought about yourself and it was bound to get you killed one way or another. He didn’t know if it was because he’d been spending extra time with you and getting way too familiar with you, but he’s letting himself enjoy it far too much. And he doesn’t know how he’d feel once you parted your ways. He’s never been this close to a woman before, be it the lack of female subordinates on his ship, or his lack of intimacy with just about everyone, it’s a lot for him.

When he has his arm on your hip to assist you in walking and you have yours on his shoulder, he feels his heart rate picking up a little more.

Sometimes when you get tired you beg him to carry you back to your room, he pretends that he hates it, as he leans over for you to get on his back.

And the first week was hell for him when he had to wash you, because bloodied bath and scars aside, your body was beautiful. Every inch of it. He didn't want to be a pervert. He kept chanting the words; this is a doctor and patient relationship, this is a doctor and patient relationship, this is a doctor and patient relationship in his head when his mind almost slipped to unholy places. If you weren’t in so much pain at the time you’d probably have teased him for how red he looked.

But right now you seem fine, and you and Law (sometimes Bepo) have been going on walks around the submarine every morning now to get you used to physical activity again, you fall into the routine pretty quickly and you don’t seem as depressed as the first few days you were here.

A day ago the submarine ascended out of the water and met with dry land. He was conflicted in telling you— he didn’t know how you’d react. You’re in a completely different place now, different from where you were almost a month ago, it must've be a little weird to come outside after 3 weeks.

It was something that Chopper was extremely adamant on, only because he knew your tendency to wander and extreme desire to explore anywhere you went. You were quite the adventurous one, which is why the Straw Hat himself was probably so upset over your departure.

He sits next to you in a chair from your bed, mentally preparing himself and thinking on how he’d formulate the way he would go about telling you.

Would you stay by his side? Would you immediately go someplace else, and without him?

You’re sat upright in the bed waiting for what he had to say, “We’ll be getting some stock in this new place and I want you to come with us. Just to see how you do.” Your eyes get wider with every word that comes after the next, and you’re smiling. You hadn’t smiled this hard ever since you got here.

What he doesn’t expect, is you to throw yourself onto him. “Thank you Law! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Your embrace is warm, and easy to get lost in and he refuses to let himself have that pleasure. "Do they have a carnival? Can we go out to eat?"

He rests his hand on your waist in an effort to pull you off.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, you just got your stitches off.” And he does well to hide the small smile that starts to form.

-

Law insists that you have to be with him, no questions asked.

If not him, then Bepo—the usual routine. It kinda made you mad, I mean, why not go with the other crew mates? You needed the new faces, but he insisted that he wasn’t as confident in their skills to take care of you versus his. Bepo was far more comfortable to be with given his warm and fuzzy embrace. And you envied the captain for having him be apart of the Heart pirates instead of the Straw hats.

You’re excited to finally go out and enjoy the traditions of this new place, you’re wearing a tight dress that looks almost too good on you.

Very much to Law’s complete and utter dismay, as well as his pleasure.

You made a joke to him earlier and told him you were surprised that he didn’t make you wear one of his jumpsuits the rest of the crew wore, then you’re calling him Captain Law to egg on the joke further. All he does is tsk and roll his eyes, like all the time. But you can tell he’s gotten more comfortable with you, and you appreciated it.

Anyway, the town’s food was delectable, you grab some food to-go and eat it while taking a stroll through the busy streets, the smell of more food, presumably some fresh-baked bread met your nostrils and you sighed out of pure satisfaction.

Your partner, on the other hand, all but scowled.

Which gave you an idea.

“Law, let’s go try some bread. I bet they have it freshly baked the way it smells so good.” You hang off of his arm to try and get him to come with you. And he swears the close proximity shouldn’t make him feel weird. He’s been much closer and he’s seen you in much more vulnerable circumstances, but this was different.

He kinda regrets telling you about the bread thing.

“C’moooonnn, you’re a liar if you say you hate bread.” You’re pulling him by his arm now, insisting on getting him into the bakery to try some sweet bread. “I never said I hated it, I said I didn’t like the taste.” This is practically a push and pull game now, “People are looking at us. We’re keeping a low profile, remember?”

You pull away from him in complete and utter defeat and tuck your hands over your chest.

He doesn’t want to miss your touch, but once again, his heart betrays him. “You’re no fun.”

He doesn’t have to miss the skinship for long, almost instantly you’re body is hanging back off of his bicep, talking about the next subject of your absolute fascination, which now happened to be a huge teddy bear plushy that was on display at a ‘convenience’ store. Not only are you closer to him but he can feel your breasts pushing onto his arm. He shudders.

And he tries remaining calm and reminding himself to not be a pervert, you always did this. You always touched him, he touched you. You were doing this as a means for support to walk better (even though you’ve been walking fine for a while now). That’s it.

You interrupt the awkward silence between you two before he starts to feel the immense guilt come over him and he thanks you in his head. His very perverted head. “I feel so much better now that we’re on land again, I feel like I haven’t had fresh air my whole life.” You breathe in and breathe a heavy breath out. “You’re exaggerating, you were on deck not too long ago.”

Your next movement makes him tense, you lay your head on top of his tattooed shoulder. “Thank you so much for taking me out, Law.” And give his captured arm a little squeeze, inevitably making him feel your breasts so much more.

He wants to die.

Collecting himself, he clears his through, “You’re making it seem like this is a date. I’m just here to monitor your progress.” He looks at you then looks ahead.

“Why can’t it be a date?” You ask him, still hanging off of his arm.

If you didn’t feel him tense then, it was especially obvious now. And he was trying to mask how weird he felt when you said that, but every part of him felt really hot, and he prayed that his cheeks weren’t tomato red right now.

“Aww! Look at them, young love, huh?”

“Ooooh, they’re an attractive couple…”

“They’re so cute!”

He calls your name a little coldly, “Get off of my shoulder, you’re sending people the wrong message.” He actually didn’t mind it, but he swears he might die if he feels your breast push up on him one more time. “Sorry…” So you withdraw your body completely from his, (which he totally doesn’t regret at all) and you start your walk with him again, minus your body on his this time.

Letting your eyes wander once again and away from Law, you settle on a trinket store, and the idea of buying Usopp a little gift pops into your head immediately. Just because.

You walk into the store full of weird things galore. You settle on a super shiny thing first and when you pick it up, the salesmen is immediately by your side, “This is a one of a kind (doo-hicky) which can only be found on this here island! (you saw this thing at the convenience store as well) Usual price would be 20,000 berries, but for your pretty little self, I’ll make it 19!”

“Yeah, no.” He immediately deflates.

You continue your walk through the store and not shortly after you land on something that you immediately found more intriguing than the last.

“Law look at this! You would love this!” You turn around,

But there’s just one problem.

Law isn’t with you anymore.

Oh.

And when you wave the salesmen off empty-handed, he seems a little angered but bids his goodbye and fake come again! as well. You look towards the street and it seems like it’s gotten busier.

“Law’s going to kill me!”

You try fishing through the crowd and scanning for a white spotted hat, or fuzzy white fur, but everyone looks plain and simple. Which makes you think about how you guys kinda stick out like sore thumbs… anyway.

You search and search until you find that signature hat you’re looking for, excuse yourself in between what felt like hundreds of strangers and you catch up to him. You grab his hand in excitement, “Law!” Only for it to be quickly taken back, it was a stranger, with eyes that you’re sure could burn holes into you. You say your little sorry and resume your search.

After a long period of searching you’re drained, physically and mentally. You’re sure that if he found you he’d probably strap you down to your bed and not let you leave.

Well, that doesn’t sound too bad.

You’re defeated, extremely, entirely. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t been outside like this for what felt like forever, maybe it was the fact that the sun was setting now, or even maybe it was ‘cause you needed Law with you the most right now. You find a near bench and just sit.

And maybe that exhaustion finally got the better of you, because you swore you could see his big muscular tattooed figure paired with Bepo's white fur walking towards you as you dose off into a really, really nice sleep.

-

The sound of one—no, two muffled voices wake you from your slumber, your vision is blurry, and if you were right about him saving you, you could hear what you assume to be Law’s medical instruments clacking together. A sound you’ve grown all too familiar with.

“Captain, you don’t think that’s a little harsh?”

“Did you see what she pulled out there?”

Bepo is silent for a bit, then sighs, “If you think it’s best for her.” He leaves the room on his own accord, leaving just you and the very scary man alone.

“I know you’re up.” He calls you with a firmness in his tone.

Much to your unwillingness, you sit up straight, tail between your legs. He looked a bit unkempt, and you couldn't pinpoint if it was because of you or something else. In whatever way, you felt a little guilty.

“Just plain reckless and obnoxious.” He towers over you, “I have a job to complete, and that requires you being taken care of.”

He's pacing around in your room-- the room, of his ship. Not yours. You've never seen him like this. Like he was distressed. He stills and looks at you. “You’re not coming out the rest of the week. You can wait until Straw Hat comes and picks you up.”

“What am I, a child?" You swing your legs around to meet the floor and pick yourself up.

"With the shit you just pulled, maybe."

With a scoff, "That's low, even for you, Law. It was an honest mistake and you're making it seem like I almost got us killed? You knew what you were getting into when you took me out!" you pinch your nose in a mix of frustration and some previous dizziness. "Sorry I can't be like Robin!"

Huh? Like who?

He immediately looks at you, and sees a little a tiny but of regret in your face. Like you had just got caught with a big secret.

Well maybe, that’s what it was.

“What is your deal with me and your crew mate, huh?”

Your confident demeanor is quick to fade away and if he didn’t know better, he would say that you were almost a bit embarrassed now. He really couldn’t tell what it was. You weren’t angry anymore, that was for certain. You’re not looking at him with those harsh eyes, you’ve been reduced to silence.

It makes him think a bit. He says your name in an attempt to get you to look at him and he succeeds almost barely.

“You wouldn’t happen to be…”

“Jealous?”

If there was ever a more dramatic gasp, it certainly couldn’t have topped the one that just came out your mouth. “How dare you! Not one bit!” Suddenly he has this new profound confidence to him, and his frustrations suddenly wiped clean off his mind. He looks at you with his grin all-knowing, and by God you hated when he did that. You wish you could have wiped it off and smacked it off of him.

“So explain to me, what’s the point of mentioning her again?” You don’t realize it, but he’s inching a bit closer while you’re avoiding any and all contact with him, you’re red. Red all over. Cheeks, ears, neck—everywhere. And you don’t know what to do with your hands, you can feel them collect sweat now. You don’t know why. Because his accusation was false.

He’s in front of you now.

“W-What are you doing? Law?” You scan his face because his stare down is relentless and unforgiving, and his hand finds its way up your neck and soon your chin. He’s awfully quiet. It’s unsettling. You put your hands on his chest to hopefully put a halt in the proximity. “Can you please te—”

His mouth is on yours. It’s a little shocking at first but you’re not pulling away.

And you don’t remember closing your eyes and snaking your hands around his neck, and pulling him in, but you do. His own tattooed hands found caressing your body. And the kiss was really, really passionate. He didn’t think it was gonna be this good, but he was wrong.

He was always wrong about you. Wrong about how he didn’t think you were right for him, wrong about your personality, attitude, everything. He really wanted to stay wrong until you would leave and he’d hardly have to see you again. He’s almost pissed he’s letting himself bask in your warmth and intimacy.

But now that he has it, he can’t go without it.

Few words are exchanged, but what he can do is guide you and put you back on your bed with your lips barely still connected trying to reach for each others and you think to yourself, for a man who claims to not have had so much going on in his love life he sure was skilled in whatever this was. He doesn’t want to take them off of yours. He can’t now. Your hands are under his shirt caressing every part of his torso. The feeling of his abs turned you on so much more and you felt your cunt throb a bit. You were aching for his body and he could tell, he takes his lips off yours with a whine from you that follows suit and immediately licks, sucks and kisses your neck, your audible satisfaction letting him know that he’s made you feel great.

“I need you… so bad.” You say in between huffs.

“How can I be so sure you deserve it?” He gets up, and takes his body off of yours, lips glossy. “How do I know that you won’t pass out on me, either?” He disguises his slight worry in a taunting statement, he’d try being as gentle as possible but he couldn’t make any promises.

“I won’t do that, and please Law. It was a mistake, honest. I need you inside. I wanted this so bad. Please!” You tug him by his shirt, urging him to come back down, he doesn’t. He thinks on your words a bit. You wanted this just as much as he did.

“Take your clothes off.”

He laughs at the very quick work you make of taking every single article of clothing, save for your bra and panties, off. There it was, the very image that kept him up for nights, shamefully touching himself to the thought of you on top of him, and him on top of you. Soon he joins, dropping his shirt and jeans and all else except his boxers, to the floor. He returns to your neck, his body on top of yours and you can feel his clothes dick pressing onto your clit ever so slightly, it draws a shaky breath out of you. “Do you know what you do to me?” He slides down your bra to continue his trail of kisses and licks on your nipples. “And you’re worrying about someone else. You’re so pathetic.”

You arch impossibly closer into him and start to buck your hips into his crotch.

“Need it sooo bad, put it inside me already, pleaaaaase!” His dick is throbbing in his boxers now. He shakes his head “You’re not prepped.”

“I’m wet enough, please baby. I need you inside of me.” You claw at his chest in an attempt to get what you want. Law’s a little taken aback by your very adamant declaration. But he should’ve figured as much, after all you were pretty straight to the point.

He refuses your request, he can’t. He goes down on you anyways, taking off your panties and the string of wetness that connected from your underwear to your cunt validated your statement. This was straight out of one of his wet dreams; you sprawled out and begging to be filled with his aching cock. He wanted more than anything to make you beg for him like your life depended on it to carry out the fantasy but, he was afraid he was just as desperate as you were right now. He continued and gently presses your legs up, swiping his thumb across your slit to test the waters (literally), your slick gathered onto his thumb and made a great lubricant, but he still wanted to make you feel good.

He licks his thumb clean and settles between your legs and gives your throbbing heat a few lips and sucks on your clit. He can feel you shake underneath him, and he separates your legs by your inner thighs to get a better angle.

The image in front of you made you hot, that’s all you could say about it. It made you hot and shaky and you thought you were going to die if you didn’t feel him inside of you soon, Law hears your pleas, and to temporarily compensate for it, he sticks two fingers into you while he’s practically making out with your clit. You look down with an almost drowsy expression, your moans get so much louder but you don’t even care anymore. He was sexy and he was eating you out. That would be your excuse to anyone who dared to get too close to the door.

His two fingers were pretty big enough to even cause you a bit of trouble alone, and his constant prodding and scissoring made you seethe a bit, but you didn’t care because the pain and the pleasure mixed together made you feel the growing orgasm in your stomach. You shout his name, “I’m gonna— I’m g-gonna cum… mmm~” your whines and moans are breathy.

But he pulls away, and you look to him in shock. He gets up from his position and he’s on his knees in front of you, and he’s threatening the hem of his boxers, you quickly forget about your failed orgasm, knowing the main course was yet to come.

It almost feels like when he pulls down his boxers, time is in slow motion. Maybe because you wanted him extra due to the lack of action you were getting, and your inability to masturbate for the longest time, were you so eager to get him in your pants, nothing prepared you for when he pulled down his underwear.

And now you understood why he wanted to prepare you.

When he pulled them down, his cock shot right up and bounced a little bit before it was like it was staring right at you. You gulp. Because that’s all you could do. And you didn’t even want to look at Law in the eye because you know he was gonna give you some smug and shitty smirk. Like a hypnosis, you get in position and spread your legs further.

“You ready?” He puts one arm next to your head and crouches down a little bit, you can’t even speak. You just hum. You’re expecting him to get it over with, but now he’s just stroking your slit with that absolute beast, “You sure you’re ready?” And now you’re forced to look away from the heavenly scene and into his dumb and beautiful eyes.

“W-What was I saying for like the past 10 minutes? Put it in!” He only chuckles at how you jump at him, demanding him like you have any control. So he slides it in, head only. With your hand on his bicep, digging nails as you’re squeezing him both down there and with your hand that looks for some kind of help in his arm.

He removes his hand that pushes his cock inside and rests in on your chin to bring your eyes up to him, the action was so gentle it could’ve made you forget what was just going down. “Just look at me.” It makes your heart flutter.

And while you do, you feel so much better about the monster that’s sliding into you inch by inch. You furrow your eyebrows at him and chant his name like some sort of ritual. He’s almost all the way in, and the beads of tears in the corner of your eyes make him twitch inside of you with a groan. He looks at you like you hold the answer the all of his problems, like he just wants to be here with you only, and that’s exactly what it was. Like he’d pass away peacefully if it meant he passed away in between your legs.

Once he bottoms out, he stays there a little bit. He gives your lips a quick kiss before he moves into you, elbows on each side of your head while his hands are balled up into fists, your hands are snug around his neck while your legs wrap tightly around him. Each thrust is more powerful than the last, and he mentally curses at himself for not removing your bra so that he could see your tits jump freely. You’re on a different planet at this point, nothing has ever felt better. You look into his eyes, then down at what’s connecting you and you swear you could cum right there.

“‘F-Feels… so… good. Hah…” his thrusts find a comfortable pace now, “I feel full and good. Thank yoooouuummmm!”

And this is what you had been reduced to, thanking him for fucking you.

“Such a fuckin’ slut. Maybe I should keep you all to myself. For good.” His thrusts pick up a little bit now, “Straw Hat’s gonna have to fight me for this.” You whine in response. It took pretty quick for you to start to get cock-drunk off of him. He didn’t take you for the overly sensitive type but here you were, begging him and thanking him for some dick.

He would so use that against you later.

He kisses you again, and he’s settled into you a whole lot more. The position changed a little for his body to be closer to yours, and almost in an instant does your skin start slapping against each other. You were a moaning mess, the new position held so much intimacy and so much of him was on you. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Don’t stop. I’m almost there, I need it. Need it so bad. Let me have it!”

He gets a little slower as support for what he says next, “Beg a little more.”

“Please, Law! Please! I need you to make me cum! Please, make me cum. Please please please…” and they don’t stop. It looks like his fantasies came to life after all.

He lets you have it because—once again—he needs it just as much as you do, the last few thrusts come a little more quick-paced and it’s hitting you in the exact spot you needed to let yourself unfold.

With a loud call to his name, you cum. You came so hard you saw stars. And he just kept fucking you through it.“Fuck. M’Gonna f-fill you up.” He grunts and groans in an effort to reach his own moment of bliss and it’s quicker to hit him than he can comprehend, he cums inside of you and shivers a little bit in doing so, finding comfort in the crook of your neck in an effort to cover up how vulnerable he felt in that moment. No women could ever compare. He was a mess for it.

As for his fill inside of you, he’d just use his devil-fruit power to remove it, but right now he absolutely relished in the way it so effortlessly leaked out of you.

You were his, officially.

Collecting his own self, he pushes his body off of you, “You’re not going cold on me, are you?” He gets up off of the comfortable position once again, peering down at your fucked-out state.

“Would you give me a second? I thought you fucked me into another dimension for like half a minute.” You huff. He gives you your time while you catch your breath, he’s rubbing circles on each side of your hips to help alleviate the strain—well that’s the doctor for you. He’ll fuck you into the mattress and then help your muscles de-stress. You couldn’t deny the gentleness and how kind the gesture was and you soften up a bit.

Welp, so much for being cute, because his next words catch you a bit off guard during the tender moment, “Get on your hands and knees when you’re ready.”

But you’re up hilariously quick anyway. And he’s already half hard from waiting for you. Your figure from the back was something he’d think back on for many nights, but getting to see your face was beyond compare.

You whimper at his slow pace, “I’m ready, c’mon!” You comedically and desperately wiggle your ass in front of him, he wants to laugh but it was really fucking sexy, the way you yearned for him, and he holds your hip with one hand, lining himself up once again. The hard part wasn’t so difficult this time around, and he pushes himself inside of you a little too eagerly, almost giving away his own very need. He starts to thrust into you again, and being inside of you was like heaven on earth. Though it wasn’t even 2 minutes that he was fucking you before, he was sensitive this time around, and he had to go slower to start.

“Fuck… that feels so good.” You hum a moan in a little more than approval. He’s sliding more of it into you, watching how his cock disappears inside.

The best thing about this position is how you wouldn’t be able to see his face, how pussy-whipped he looked. If he went any faster he could cum, so he needed to start slow.

You were far past the sensual and slowness. You needed it fast and hard. “Law, go faster!”

He trusts himself enough to be a little bolder in what he says now that you can’t see his face. “Don’t call me by my name. What do you call me in this room? On this ship?” Very assertive with his proclamation. But he can feel your hesitance.

He smacks your ass, and you jump a bit, clenching around him very tightly. “I said, what do you call me?”

“C-Captain, please… please go faster.”

He stops. And he swears he might be torturing his own self more.

If it meant for how much you begged and whined for it, though, he wasn’t so mad.

“If you want to go faster so bad, fuck me yourself.”

You almost want to cry from how brutal he sounded, but the vulgarity of his words makes you clench around him again. And so, you start to thrust back into him, fucking him while he watched you.

With the first few thrusts you’re already clutching the sheets below you, and it’s taking more power than you thought it would. You can’t bring yourself to stop, though. The way it felt, it was too good.

“How does it feel?”

“S-So good, Cap.” Your eyes rolled into your skull.

“You gonna make your captain cum?”

“Mhhmm~”

With a breathy voice he says, “Guess this is my reward for taking such good care of you, huh? All paid off. I don’t usually get this special treatment from my usual patients.”

“I’m n-not a usual… patient.” You hardly breathe out.

He grips both sides of your hips to make you stop in your movement and he shuffles a bit, not long after is he asking you, “Are you gonna be good from now on?”. You say yes, a thousand times over. He moves like he did before, only just picking up his thrusts quicker and quicker. The sound of his skin meeting yours makes its return only louder. “Yeah, guess you’re right. Couldn’t possibly be. You’re too special. Made just for me.”

“Yes *thrust* Captain! *thrust*”

His leg is raised to the side to get a better angle into your cunt and he feels a second orgasm quickly approaching. He’s so sweaty, drenched. His hair clings onto his forehead and his hands can barely take grip on your skin anymore. Fuck, he moans. He’s getting dizzy now. This is the best he’s felt in a while.

You, on the other hand, have your face pressed in the sheets with your orgasm on quick approach. You’re sensitive, too sensitive. And you cum with a loud whine, all your liquids spraying onto him like it was comical. He came not so far after you, with his head falling back and a breathy moan.

You both try to catch your breaths before he fell on top of you. He kissed your shoulder as his own little thank you and rolled over on the very much drenched mattress. You lay on top of him while your whole body shook and he quickly wraps his arm around your figure.

You two sit in a comfortable silence to try catching your breaths and try pacing yourselves so you could relax. And surprisingly, Law is the first to speak.

And you wish he kept quiet.

“Never pinned you for the jealous type.”

“Oh would you quit it already? You’re so good at ruining soft moments!” You push him lightly, you roll over on the other side of the mattress and he immediately grabs you back. He was so annoying.

If he asked you to stay with him, would you have done it? No, that was wishful thinking. He’s seen with his own very eyes how much Straw Hat loved you. This is the thing he dread the most about this, he shouldn’t have done it. He brought you into his own sick and dark fantasy, he came inside of you, for fucks sake. It was too intimate. It was wishful thinking on his end, all of it.

He sighs, looking up at the ceiling and absentmindedly giving your body a squeeze.

“‘This a one time thing?” He asks to try and ground himself.

He doesn’t know what to make of the situation, because it was beyond amazing. It was phenomenal. And it was with someone special. He didn’t want to admit it but, you were special to him and it hurt to think that you’d likely leave him and not see him for a long time coming.

But you’re quick, “No, better not be!” You get up and sit on the bed, and he doesn’t understand how you’re up. He should be the one to get up. “Unless you declare me your enemy once I leave.” Your fingers are dancing on his chest, tracing the tattoos on his body, “But I’m fine with being with you like this. It can be our little secret anytime we see each other. Especially that captain thing, you freak.”

He laughs, and your words do bring him that relief. He pulls you by your arm for a tender kiss, something you were a bit surprised by.

Law was fine with it, he’d take what he can get for now, as long it meant he could be with you.

[storiesofsvu]

Midnight Baking

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, briefest mention ever of some unnamed stressful situation. (R doesn't want to talk about it because I was simply too lazy to come up with what was stressing them out, so...here we go. lol)

Emily stirred, her body twitching in her sleep as her nose scrunched up and she subconsciously went to pull the blankets tighter around her body. A cool breeze floated through the room from the open window, the summer night air far nicer than the scorching heat of the day. With it came a whiff of your shampoo, wafting off your pillow straight into Emily’s senses making her want to be impossibly close to you, the heat finally having vanished from the room. Rolling over she let out a groan as her body stretched itself out, pulling her slightly out of her deep sleep until her arm hit what was supposed to be your waist and her senses came to life when all she found was cold sheets.

She didn’t want to open her eyes, didn’t even want to fully wake up, but she wanted you and you certainly weren’t in the bed. She peeked one eye open, squinting around the bedroom to find it dark but the bedroom door cracked open and she wondered if you were in the bathroom. Her hand soothed up and down your side of the bed and not an inch of it held any of your remaining body heat, wherever you’d disappeared to it had not been recent. With a reluctant groan she pushed herself up to sitting, stretching out her body as she yawned, grabbing a hoodie from the floor and sliding her slippers on while she began her adventure through the house.

Upstairs was quiet, dark and empty aside from the soft snores coming from Sergio who Emily gave a little scratch on the head to as she made her way passed him. A light was left on downstairs but that was nothing new, it was instinct to always leave a couple on for the nights Emily was coming home from a case, never sure what hour she’d finally make it back to you. Wandering down the stairs she found the living room empty but a book upturned on the coffee table and a blanket crumpled up on the couch. Her lips twitched up into a grin at the thought of you burrito’d up with your favourite stories as she crossed toward the couch. She flipped the book over, sliding a bookmark into the open page before setting it back on the pile on the table, next neatly folding the blanket and laying it over the back of the couch.

A few steps later and she finally found the main source of light and you, both in the kitchen and she stopped in the doorway, leaning against the frame to watch for a minute. You were lost in your element and clearly had been at it a while, there was a smudge of flour on your cheekbone, three racks of cookies already cooling and incredibly sweet smells lingering in the air. She noticed the window was wide open and upon lingering for a minute realized it must have been to combat the heat from the oven. Her eyes trailed back to you, a frown taking over her features as she began to examine yours, you were more than focused, it was almost intense, your brow furrowed, eyes narrowed just the slightest as you stirred up ingredients. She could tell you were clenching your jaw; your shoulders tense and she just knew you were holding stress in your lower back, especially with the way you kept shifting from one foot to the other to try an alleviate any hip pain.

“Didn’t realize I was living with Willy Wonka.” She teased and you jumped slightly, pulling out an ear bud.

“You’re supposed to be asleep.” You pouted, taking out the other ear bud to safely drop in a ramekin before wiping off your hands as you turned to her.

“So are you.” She replied with a soft laugh, moving through the room to wipe the flour off your face, “what are you doing?”

“Well,” you let out a breath before rattling things off, “I’ve got sugar cookies and chocolate chip cookies done, there’s lemon bars in the freezer setting, I just put in a batch of peanut butter cookies and am working on cupcakes. But I don’t even know if any of it will turn out, I’ve been doing it all by hand so I didn’t have to use the mixer and worry about waking you up.”

“Jeeze, how long have you been down here?”

“More than a few hours…” you replied sheepishly, your body nearly sinking around itself, “I couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to disturb you so I came down here to read. But my brain just wouldn’t shut up, I needed something to make me think and I’ve always kinda been a stress baker so…” You vaguely gestured to the state of the kitchen.

“Is this about what you told me over dinner?” Emily asked, stepping toward you and squeezing softly at your elbow.

“Yeah.” You sighed, “and talking about it won’t help so I’d really rather not.”

“That’s fine.” She shrugged, glancing around, “well, can I at least help?”

“How are you helping if I don’t want to talk about it?” You turned to her with a furrowed brow and she laughed softly.

“I meant with the baking.”

“Oh!” You huffed out an embarrassed laugh, your hand coming to cover your face briefly before turning back to her with a small smile, “yeah, of course. That might even help distract me more.”

“Good.” Leaning in she pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek before rolling up her sleeves, “well, what’s the next step chef?”

You giggled softly, sliding the mixing bowl you’d been using over to Emily and guiding her through the next few steps. While Emily was pretty decent in the kitchen, she certainly would never claim to have your level of skill when it came to baking and that was because she was never about following strict rules. She liked to add in her own flair, skip certain steps or mess around with the amounts and while that always worked out to delicious dinners, it would definitely result in cupcakes with the texture of sandpaper or butter tarts that were left soggy in the middle.

Having Emily in the kitchen with you not only distracted you, it calmed you down, relaxed you to a sense of peace that you’d been craving the past couple of weeks. She asked what you’d been listening to when she interrupted and you admitted with a small smile it was the road trip playlist the two of you had put together of all your favourite songs. You knew it wasn’t a road trip but music was known to bring back memories and every time you heard any of the songs you were immediately transported back to the adventures the two of you had together the previous summer. They made you feel warm and fuzzy inside and always brought a smile to your face and Emily felt the warmth bursting through her at your admittance, a grin plastered on her face while you guided her through the steps to make meringue.

The sun was nearly creeping over the horizon by the time you were finally yawning, a warm and gooey tray of cinnamon buns being pulled from the oven. Emily placed them on a rack to cool, washing her hands before turning back to you to ask what was next. Instead she caught you with your hands on your hips, chewing on your lip as you surveyed the state of the kitchen.

“You mentioned something about Rossi hosting a pretty big get together this weekend, right?”

“Yeah. Retirement party for one of the other agents on our floor, why?”

“Cause I think I maaayy have gone a little overboard.”  Your nose scrunched as you glanced over to her and she laughed softly, stepping towards you to kiss the tip of your nose, relaxing it as she did so.

“It’s the first time I’d seen you genuinely smiling all week, I wasn’t about to stop you.”

“Thanks.” Smiling softly you leant into the embrace, kissing her gently, “hope you’re ready to eat nothing but baked goods for a month.”

“Can we start with the cinnamon rolls and call it breakfast?”

An uncontrolled yawn escaped you when you opened your mouth to reply and Emily chuckled, “only if we follow it up with a nap.”

“Sounds perfect.” She pecked your cheek before moving to the cupboard, pulling down a couple of plates to serve the cinnamon buns with.

Overall you ended up with two batches of cinnamon rolls, five sheets of cookies, three dozen cupcakes consisting of vanilla, chocolate and confetti, three dozen muffins (blueberry, carrot and cranberry orange) lemon meringue pie, apple pie, lemon bars, peanut butter balls and a black forest cake. Emily stashed some of it, whether in the pantry or the freezer to save for later and helped you pack up the rest for that weekend, where you discovered Rossi was more than ecstatic to have someone else providing the goodies. Because after all, you were the baker, he was the chef, you’d stay out of each other’s ways but you each had your specialties and you were more than happy to share, especially if it meant quality time in the kitchen with Emily.

_______________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog @daffodil-heart @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @chimnlex @moonlightjxuregui @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts @just-moondust @idkifimasub @gaydragonwitch

[m4iya]

⋆⑅˚₊ Order up! - Lemon Madelines with brownie bites to eat in coming right up!

'The Moon is beautiful, isn't it?' ft. Kei Tsukishima (angst, mutual pining)

wc. 1.2k

The sound of chalk scratching across the board echoed in her ears as she listened to the teacher at the front. Yawning, she rubbed her eyes in an attempt not to fall asleep midway through his explanation on proverbs.

“I want you all to listen carefully, some of these carry double meanings - and yes, they will be on your Literature test next week”

Murmurs and scattered complaints were heard from multiple students in the class.

Straightening her posture, she decided to pay more attention to the explanation.

Turning back to the board, he wrote down a few proverbs in English and began explaining each one.

“This one, ‘Actions speak louder than words’, is basically as it sounds. For example, when you apologise to someone, you need to show that you mean it; sorry isn’t only gonna cut it all the time.”

Following the teacher’s explanation, she wrote down the key points.

“Here’s one some of you might want to hear. ‘The Moon is beautiful, isn’t it?’; it’s not your traditional proverb, but apparently it was taught by a Japanese teacher to his male students as a way for them to confess, but only under a moonlit night. A girl probably won’t take it romantically if you tell it to her in the middle of the day” a couple chuckles sounded across the classroom.

She had heard of that proverb before. She always found it hard to imagine the circumstances all coming together for this small statement to hold so much meaning. She continued note taking as the teacher moved onto the next set of proverbs.

As class came to an end and the teacher packed his materials, she closed her notebook and turned around, facing her two friends.

“Do you guys have club today?” She asked, zipping up her pen case.

“Yep!” The shorter of the two answered.

The three of them left class together and headed to each of their clubs, agreeing to meet at the gates after practice to walk home together.

Both were on the boys’ volleyball club, whereas she was in the girls’ basketball club. She had been friends with them since her second year of middle school, when she was paired with a tall blonde boy for a class project. He wasn’t loud, was relatively easy to talk to, didn’t seem to judge her, and they seemed to have a lot in common. Through him, she was introduced to his slightly timid friend, and the three of them had frequently hung out together since then.

At some point in time, she wasn’t sure when, but each time he’d speak to her, her heart seemed to beat a little faster. She felt herself becoming distracted by the smallest things about him.

His tone that was quiet but mellow. The rare moment he’d crack a smile, his eyes squinting ever so slightly. The way he walked, the way he slung his bag over his shoulder, the way he would listen so intently to her rants. She felt it then, and she still feels it now. That soft, budding warmth grew inside her chest whenever he turned to speak to her. Though the only difference was that it was becoming harder to hide.

Being paired with a girl for a class project wasn’t a big deal to him – it was just something they’d have to get done together. He was only trying to finish this task and head home as quick as he could.

So, what was keeping his gaze fixed on her?   

From the corner of his eye, he could see her notebook. One of her delicate hands was holding the page down, the other gently gripping her mechanical pencil. Her free hand lifting momentarily to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear and the softness of her breathing.

His heart reverberated loudly in his chest. Picking up his pencil, he got back to work.

Slipping her head through the collar of her hoodie, she tidied up her belongings before heading out of the changing room to walk home with her friends. Shivering from the cold, she decided to slip on a pair of gloves – it was a little cold in the morning, so she was glad she had brought them with her, as the temperature dropped when the sun had set.

Walking towards the gates, she sees the two boys standing and waiting. Waving, she jogs up to them, and the three of them walk together.

“How was practice?” She asked, holding the handles of her backpack.

“Same old” Tsukishima responded.

“What did you do for practice?” Yamaguchi asked her.

“Well, we did a lot of laps today since your team was using the court”.

Shivering from the cold, she glances up, her eyes glazing over the bright full moon. Despite it being winter, the sky was clear for the first time in a while. The three of them carried on in conversation until Yamaguchi reached his house. Waving at them both, he headed inside, closing the door.

She turned back to face Tsukishima.

“My house isn’t too far from here, I can walk there myself.” She smiled.

“It’s fine. Mine’s close by as well.” He replied.

The two of them take off together, walking down the street.

Removing her hands from her pockets, she blows warm air into them, feeling the heat scatter across her cheeks, and sink into the fabric of her gloves. Placing her hands by her side, the warmth on her face continued to linger.

It was just the two of them, walking together down the street under the bright Moon. He noticed her place her hands by her side, inching closer to his own. Lifting his hand slightly, he hesitated, brushing his fingers against hers. He wavered.

And maybe that was why she shoved her hands back into her pockets.

Standing right next to him, she worried that he’d be able to hear her heart practically jumping out of her chest.

‘Did his hand bump into mine by accident?’ She thought to herself, worrying that he might think she was trying to hold his hand. It was a bright, moonlit night. The words of her teacher from earlier today replayed in her head: ‘..A way to confess, but only under a moonlit night’

No way, even if he did say it, she’d never think of it as a confession.

‘He probably only sees me as a friend.’

Her head was noisy, filled with thoughts and paranoia,  although the silence between them was practically deafening. He and her usually speak to each other without issue every day. So what was the difference now?

He found himself feeling antsy, fiddling with the hem of his jacket as he walked beside her. Her street was the next turn. If he didn’t say something now, he didn’t know how he’d be able to carry on speaking to her like nothing had happened.

At the edge of the street, right at the turnoff, Tsukishima stood still, and looking up at the sky; he said:

“The Moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

Standing a few steps in front, her gaze fell over him. Unable to see his facial expression properly; his head remained facing upwards.

That wasn’t a confession, right? He’d probably laugh if she said anything of the sort, right?

She had to come up with an answer, and fast. Unable to balance between a confession and a regular statement, the growing silence between them engulfed her thoughts.

Preparing herself to speak, she felt her heart sink. With tear glossed eyes, she glanced upwards at the Moon.

“So very beautiful.”

Mya's Bakery Event 𝜗𝜚 other works

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

complicated

bucky barnes x reader

summary: things had been uncomplicated between Bucky and you, then things ended. Now he’s seeing you again after months and he realizes he never wanted things to end. Do you feel the same?

“...and if my wishes came true, it would have been you.”

Sirens rang in Bucky’s ears; the flashing lights illuminated his face as he stared straight ahead. Agents’ mule around in the background as Sam talks to a few – Bucky never did the talking and he was glad about it, especially now. He hadn’t seen you in what felt like years, but months would be more accurate. You stood tall but looked stressed; hands firm on your hips as you listened to what he assumed was a subordinate. Nodding as they spoke to you, he didn’t know your division was working on this case too. But why would he? He wasn’t a man in the loop, and he liked it that way; Sam was the one that did the planning and arranging, he just showed up for the job.

Bucky couldn’t stop staring, everything around him went dark and it was like there was a spotlight shining down on you. Face stern, hair brushed back behind ears. He knew the look of concentration on your face and for a moment, he smiled. His head ached a bit, he had been bleeding from his head earlier but now everything was dried and matted on his skin.

“You’re staring too hard.”

Bucky blinked and looked at his partner. “You didn’t tell me she would be here.”

Sam shrugged. “Need to know basis, remember?”

Right, his own policy.

“You should go say hi at least, better than staring like a stalker.”

“Shut up, Sam.”

Bucky frowned when his friend patted him hard on the back, leaving him to his brooding. He stood among the crowd of agents, deciding on whether it would be okay to say hello. The two of you hadn’t talked in so long and the last time you did, things didn’t feel right. It wasn’t like you were a couple, it had never gotten that serious. Things hadn’t gotten the chance to even become serious – workload and ambition had gotten the best of you, he tried to be understanding. While you were in this lifestyle for want, he just was around because what else was someone like him to do?

It started off innocently enough – flirtation over beers, blowing off steam with Sam and others in the field. A gang of friends turned family, but things never got complicated. A kiss led to another than he had you in his bed, sometimes in your bed and most times, in hotels while on the job. It had been light, free, and sweet. Then he started to get attached, he felt himself going in a direction that didn’t seem to even cross your mind. Bucky started to crave you in ways more than sex; he wanted to hold your hand, share a meal with you, scratch your back until you fell asleep beside him.

It started to feel dangerously close to love and it scared him.

The sirens died down and that’s when you noticed him. Bucky’s heart flinched when you met his gaze and he couldn’t bring himself to smile, even as you started towards him. His eyes followed your every step and when you finally stood in front of him, he still couldn’t smile.

“Bucky.”

He wanted to smile then, but he just asked how you were. Your face softened; a sigh rolled off your shoulders. “Tired as shit. I’m glad this case is over; I need a vacation.”

The notion of you vacationing finally made him crack and he smirked. “Have you ever taken a vacation?”

“Yeah, when I was twelve.”

Bucky stared at you and then the two of you shared a laugh, and it felt wonderful. It felt like air finally whistled down his lungs and he could breathe. You grinned and touched his shoulder, smile fading as your eyes fell. His shoulders slumped as he held your arm by the elbow, asking what was wrong. It could see it in your face, that you were crumbling from the inside. He recognized the look because he saw it every morning in the mirror.

Your fingers touched the lapel of his leather jacket. “I’m sorry…”

Voice quiet, shameful.

He stood quietly among the noise.

“…I was scared because things were starting to feel different. I started to feel differently about you, Bucky.”

Oh, he frowned. This is where you were going to break his heart. You were going to explain why you had stopped taking his calls, ‘ghosting’ him as Sam explained. Even stopped talking cases with the pair, switching agencies to get away from him. His mouth dried as you looked at him and he wanted to walk away, cover his ears. He didn’t want to hear what you had to say because then he couldn’t go on with his delusion. That you just weren’t ready, that if circumstances had been different, the two of you would be together today.

That everything would be different.

“I was falling in love with you…”

The word love struck him awake and all his senses warmed his body, catching your hand as it fell from his jacket. His fingers gripped around your wrist and his eyes examined your face – trying to understand what you were saying to him, right to his face.

“…I didn’t think you felt the same, we always kept things uncomplicated, and I thought you liked it that way. That’s why I stopped coming around.”

“Shit.”

The word slipped through his lips, and he was instantly annoyed at himself, but you laughed. “Shit? We haven’t seen each other in months, and I just poured my heart out to you – in front of all these people, mind you and all you can say is shit?”

Bucky dipped his head back and took a deep breath, holding onto your hand so you wouldn’t dare leave. He wasn’t going to let you leave his life again, not ever again. Warming his smile, he carefully pulled you closer as if that would give the two of you some privacy. He reached for your face with both hands and grinned.

“I want complicated.”

Your chest ached in delight. “You do?”

Words careful and concerned.

Bucky nodded, face serious. “I love you and I’ve missed you.”

Forgetting that you were a known hard ass among your peers, you practically leaped into Bucky’s arms. He embraced you, lifting your feet off the ground and holding you tight against his body. His warmth engulfed you and all you could do is think of a vacation with him. Lounging in bed, talking walks on the street – hand in hand. Sharing meals and falling asleep to the feeling of his fingers dragging against your back. All the things you had been earning for all these months, were finally going to come to fruition; and when his lips brushed against yours, you didn’t care if the whole world was watching.

Pulling your head back after a moment, you beamed at Bucky.  “I love you too.”

[bitethedustfools]

TWST Story Idea (14)

Warning: Spoiler and Mild Gore

If overblots are dangerous to those who overuse magic, then how dangerous is it for a magicless student who has never touched magic to be exposed to one?

No one knew. After all, this had never happened before until Yuu appeared, but even then, it was too late to understand not process how severe it was.

Yuu's first exposure to an overblot was in the dwarf mine where they came face to face with an unknown being.

The black liquid sloshed in the damaged jar for a head, its contents leaking out of its cracks, and its whole lower body was replaced by a sludge of black, forming a trail behind it as it moved.

Yuu made the mistake of touching the liquid, unaware of its danger and distracted by adrenaline rushing through their veins.

It was when everything was over that Yuu felt a bit off but quickly dismissed it as weariness and being subjected to a new and stressful environment.

-

The second was Riddle Rosehearts's overblot, where the experience was much different from the first. Yuu could see the surroundings being affected. The rose bushes were dug out of their place and floated ominously amongst the equally ominous red mist and sky.

Riddle's appearance changed, and with that, a being that Yuu came to learn as a Phantom popped up behind him, and it was much larger than the first one and so, so angry.

Yuu felt scared as the phantom wielding the rose bush towered over them, the ink, akin to blood, spilt over their face and shoulders.

The rose bush turned to cards before it managed to smash them to nothing but a puddle of blood, torn flesh and broken bones.

The cards scratched Yuu, and blood and ink mixed together.

Yuu fell terribly sick that day at the unbirthday party but felt a bit better after a couple of days.

-

The third was Leona Kingscholar.

The sand particles floated all over the area, and it was so dense it made Yuu choke and become thirsty. It clung to them and stuck on their eyes like a second skin, uncomfortably so with its rough texture.

The roaring of a Phantom with a lion with stitched skin for a body and a cracked jar for a head echoed all over the place. A distinct deep laugh could be heard in the background.

Yuu was scared of dying, they were scared of not knowing anything and facing the enemy blind, scared of not being able to do anything when their life was in danger.

Yuu was scared of not being able to go home in one piece or not being able to return at all.

When it was over, Yuu found themselves distracted and out of touch with the surrounding.

A good hit from the disc unto the head made Yuu unconscious, and when they woke up, they got distracted once more.

-

The fourth was Azul Ashengrotto.

Yuu did not feel scared this time, but they were angry. Upset at how this had happened to them for the fourth time in a row.

Come to think of it, this wouldn't have happened if those friends of theirs hadn't done stupid things like striking a deal, would it? Yuu wouldn't have gotten dragged into it if they hadn't begged for their help, would they?

Yuu shouldn't be involved in this and deal with the aftermath if those friends knew the consequence of their own actions.

Yuu's gaze bore deep into their soul.

And the ink goes drip, drip, drip into the puddle of ink.

The fifth was Jamil Viper, the Vice Housewarden.

Quite frankly, Yuu had looked forward to the holiday. No friends, no headmaster, no students roaming around the school for Yuu to talk to with the exception of Grim, which is an avoidable case.

Yuu is fully aware of the feelings that grew inside of them and attempted to quell it using this opportunity.

Yuu wanted to rest, enjoy some time to themself until Kalim insisted on inviting them to have a party back in his dorm.

Yuu rejected once and twice and more, only to be dragged there the moment Grim voiced out his disagreement and promptly accepted the invitation.

Yuu felt anger and dissatisfaction growing inside.

They felt sick looking at the feast spreading from one edge to another, weary of dealing with Grim and Kalim's antics and developed a fever under the burning sun.

The only time they got better was when they snapped at Kalim for his foolishness and naivety that started to get on their nerves, but even then, the feelings didn't go away all that much. It still lingered and steadily grew.

Yuu sat down and hid, waiting for the others to deal with the overblot. It was their fault, not Yuu's, so they should deal with that.

-

The sixth overblot was Vil Schoenheit.

Yuu was not pleased that their dorm was being used to house the participants of VDC when Yuu themself wasn't part of it. Why was Yuu in charge of them? Why was Vil bossing them around? Why was their privacy being invaded?

Why did nobody ask Yuu at all?

Yuu barely batted an eye when Vil overblotted, even as the stage shook and crumbled. Even if his youth seeped out blink of an eye and restored the next.

Yuu was angry. Yuu was tired. Yuu was…

Hungry.

Yuu doesn't remember what happened next, but Yuu recalled that they stole something from Grim and attempted to eat it before waking up with ugly scratches all over their arms, face, and throat and Grim crying next to their bedside.

Yuu turned away.

-

And then seventh and eighth overblot was Idia Shroud and Malleus Draconia respectively.

These two were the most stressful moments and life-threatening situations to ever happen to Yuu.

Stepping into the island of woe where a bunch of phantoms imprisoned and a dream casted by Malleus where Yuu got dropped into a war and the Sage Island covered by a wall of thorns, isolated from the rest.

Yuu got tired of being drenched in the ink and the blood that looked so real. Yuu got tired of being dragged into every problem just to save someone.

Yuu ate the black Magestones that they managed to lay their hands on. Collecting them like treasures and eating them while savoring the taste.

The Magestones easily crushed in between their molars. The bitterness began to coat the tongue that overpowered their senses that they wanted to spit them back out.

Still, Yuu chewed. The liquid flowed to the back of the throat, and then, the sweetness began to pop up, dancing on the taste bud and then gone in an instant.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

There is no more taste left. Yuu yearned for more, but there's none left. Irrational anger and sorrow overwhelmed them.

Tears began to form and dropped down their cheeks, staining them black that is ink.

Drip, drip, drip.

The palms are coated with ink, and the floor began to form a small puddle, seeping into their dark clothes.

Yuu is starting to hate the color black and the chemical scent that came with it.

-

The ninth was Grim.

There is no phantom, there is only him, except he is not him anymore.

He is no longer tiny nor did he have a cat-like appearance and lacked his arrogant and narcisstic personality.

He is huge and now possessed bunch of tentacles and a snake for extra limbs. The blue flame surrounded his neck area like a lion's mane, enhancing the terrifying face of the beast that loomed over them.

The whole place got destroyed, and the students either ran away or were injured, but Yuu cared nothing like that.

Their vision fixed on a certain item while their palms bled ink upon grasping the broken glasses tightly

The mirror that was suppose to be Yuu's way home was smashed to smithereens, reflecting Yuu's despairing expression a thousand times as if to mock them.

-

The tenth and the final overblot was themself.

[manicplank]

what scars do you think the cast have, if any?

Scars (tw? maybe? no mention of bad things, though. tw just in case.)

Peppino: Has some minor scarring. They're mostly from being attacked by The Noise (stabs, teeth marks, scratches, etc).

Gustavo: None.

Mr. Stick: None.

Pepperman: None.

The Vigilante: They're very subtle, but they're small hardened areas. (Imagine dry hard spots on liquid cheese.) They're from his previously battles and shootouts with criminals. (stabs, bullet holes, etc).

The Noise: Amazingly, he has no scars.

Noisette: No scars, but has some minor stretch marks on her hips.

Fake Peppino: Not possible.

Pizzahead: He's probably been stabbed by The Noise a couple times... So maybe just two or three. (His scars have the same appearance and consistency of Vigi's.)

Pillar John: His cracks and chips count as scarring in his species. He has fallen quite a few times. A lot of his cracks came from the tower.

Gerome: Only has one crack on his lower back. He fell and landed on his butt hard enough to get a crack halfway on his back. (His sprite has a literal ass crack lmao.)

[hoffstrap-yuri]

For Sickness and in Health (Insurance)

ao3 // masterlist

*SUMMARY: Agent Strahm was by the book when it came to solving cases. Being honest about his marital status was a different story entirely.

*RATING: +18 for Explicit Mature Content

*CONTENT/TAGS: M/M, Hoffstrahm, Coffinshipping, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Fake Marriage/Dating, Fake Relationship, Eventual Smut, Alternate Universe

*STATUS: Chapter 1/2

Author's Note: Second chapter of this fic can be found here! Woo my first MLM saw fic, it's only fitting it'd be coffinshipping. Huge thanks to @cubestrahm for helping me stay motivated on this project, and come up with an ending for it <3

There was an eerie silence in the air. Hoffman was in the middle of his daily crossword puzzle, scratching his head at what possibly could be the answer for 5 down. Strahm took a glance at the desk across from him before clearing his throat. When Hoffman didn’t look up the first time, he cleared it again with more phlegm coming up.

“Do you need something, special agent?” Hoffman finally looked up from his crossword. To say he was mildly annoyed by the other middle aged man would be an understatement. Unless he had the answer to 23 across, Hoffman didn’t want to hear a damn word come from his mouth.

Strahm took a deep breath before he said, “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Ask Perez.” Hoffman replied, turning his eyes back down to the paper in front of him

“Would if I could, believe me.” Strahm propped his head up against his fingers, “See… I need you to.”

“Yeah?” Hoffman raised an eyebrow, bringing his coffee cup up to his lips. He started to take a sip when Strahm said maybe the most outlandish thing that Mark had ever heard in his life,

“I need you to pretend to be my wife.”

Hoffman spit out his coffee, droplets making it onto Strahm’s crisp white shirt across the two desks.

“Agent Strahm, are you high?”

“No.”

“Then what the hell are you smoking,” Hoffman sputtered as he kept trying to string words together. Something to make a coherent sentence. “Are you insa… Actually, I’ve seen the footage of your interview with Jill Tuck. I know you’re insane. Why would I even entertain this idea, Special Agent?”

“You get better insurance?” Strahm shut his eyes, hoping that the offer of a better plan would be enough to entice the man before him. There was a pause in their banter. Peter couldn’t believe that Mark would actually even consider this.

“Does the plan include dental?”

“Wait you don’t get dental?”

“I do.” Hoffman scoffed, “But I have a ridiculous co-pay. What’s yours look like?”

“500.”

“… Fine. What do you need from me?”

“Just come with me to DC. We’ll talk to an HR person for an hour, get the paperwork sorted out, and we both get better insurance.”

“I can do that.”

“Alright.” Strahm said with a heavy sigh of relief. He was still quiet around Hoffman the next couple of minutes until Perez came back from lunch. Naturally, Strahm turned his back away from the other man to talk to his partner. Hoffman pulled a straw wrapper off the side of his desk he’d been meaning to throw out anyway, crumpled it up, and threw it at the back of Strahm’s head. When Strahm turned around to see whether something had actually hit him, Mark played coy. Almost too coy. Strahm raised an eyebrow at him, trying to goad him into a confession. Other, weaker, men would have folded under the gaze of the man with immaculate eyelashes, but Mark was stronger than that. Or so he thought at the very least. Mark leaned forward on his desk and rested his head on his fists, inviting some kind of challenge from the agent. As Strahm opened his mouth to offer a rebuttal, he thought long and hard whether a fight right now was worth it. He zipped his own lips back up and turned back around to talk with Perez.

‘Did she know?’ Mark wondered to himself, ‘About Strahm’s stupid little plan?’

Strahm massaged the wedding band on his finger, as if a sign to Hoffman that he heard his thoughts. That Lindsay was in on the whole scam too. She had to know… He shook his head and tried to clear the thought from his head. Maybe Hoffman was the one really getting scammed.

---

“Nice ride.” Hoffman slung his bag over his shoulder, looking at the car behind Strahm parked in Hoffman’s driveway.

“Shut up.”

“First road trip…”

“Don’t.” Strahm pointed at his partner in crime, “Don’t finish that sentence.”

“Aw, afraid you’re gonna like hearing the words ‘newlyweds’ come from my mouth?” Hoffman got up in Strahm’s face. Strahm’s lips were mere inches from brushing up against Hoffman. He felt the tickle of a sharp inhale from the detective’s nose and the heavy sigh when the air came back up along his upper lip. Peter turned his head away so he didn’t have to look into Mark’s eyes. He turned on the back of his heels and opened up the trunk for Mark to put his bag inside of. Mark plopped his bag down next to what he assumed was Strahm’s overnight bag before attempting to open the back passenger side door.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” Strahm asked, sticking his head out of his window

“Sitting in the back, idiot. What does it look like I’m doing?” Mark wriggled the handle some more

“Why the hell would you sit back there?”

“So I can get some sleep.”

“And make me feel like a damn taxi driver; I don’t fucking think so. Sit up here.”

“Fine.” Hoffman rolled his eyes and got into the seat across from Strahm. He crams himself in before feeling up the seat to find the height adjuster. He pushed it as far back as it would go and crossed his legs before pressing his weight up against the car door.

“Here, grab the directions from the glove compartment.” Strahm said. He wrapped an arm around the headrest of Hoffman’s seat as he backed up from the driveway. Hoffman handed him the three sheets of paper folded into threes. Before handing it off however, he took a peek under the fold to see where the MapQuest directions lead to. Some two-star hotel on the DC-Maryland border. Not that Hoffman had any right to complain about the lodging, but he wondered if the accommodations were coming from the FBI or Strahm’s wallet.

“Take a left here. It’ll be faster and it’s easier to get on the turnpike.” Hoffman pointed up a couple of blocks ahead of them. Strahm gave him an apprehensive look before following the instructions the other man gave him. “Nice smooth merge instead of fighting.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Take it you don’t go home much? Or am I not good enough to bring home to mom?” Hoffman asked as he handed the papers off finally.

“What are you on about now?”

“Why aren’t you taking me to your place?”

“My place?” Strahm looked at him, more confused than ever

“In DC.”

With a sharp inhale Strahm asked, “Do you think every FBI agent is based out of Washington DC? Are you really that stupid, Detective?”

“Maybe I am.” Hoffman shrugged nonchalantly. Was Hoffman trying to scam him, even now? A blood vessel was popping on the edge of Strahm’s forehead and he could feel it. That seemed to make Hoffman’s lips curl at the ends ever so deviously. So it was all a fucking joke. “What’s the plan?”

“What?” Strahm’s attention returned in that moment.

“When we get to DC, smart ass.”

“Go to sleep. Get up in the morning, go to the office, and get this done. We’ll be home by tomorrow night.”

“How punctual.” Hoffman purred. “Did you bring something for me to wear?”

“No, why the hell would I do that?” Strahm asked.

“Why the hell wouldn’t you, this was your plan. I thought you asked me because you had something already.” Hoffman sat up in his seat, giving the other man a dumbfounded look

“I asked because you’re the only one not in the registry like Perez is. I mean why the hell wouldn’t you go out and buy a cheap dress or something after I told you about this?”

Hoffman just sighed before realizing the implication of this. “So guess that means you have to take me shopping.”

“What you want to go to the National Mall for that, dumb ass?”

“And if I do?” Hoffman smirked. He was clearly enjoying himself far too much. On the other hand, it took every bone in Strahm’s body to keep the two of them from careening off the highway and into the Atlantic ocean. Most of the car ride was in silence after that. Mark would occasionally peer out the window when they crossed a river, making it damn near impossible for him to get his planned nap in during the drive. Like that, they were pulling up into the parking lot of their hotel. Strahm left the car on while he checked in, and made a motion out to Hoffman when they were all set. Strahm walked back out to the car and sat in the driver’s seat before looking behind him.

“Where are we going?”

“To go shopping.” Strahm said with a sigh.

---

“Where to first?” Hoffman asked, stepping out of the car. Strahm hadn’t allowed for any stops on their way down south, so getting out to stretch was completely out of the question. Now that he was free, Hoffman lifted his arms over his head and let out a yawn. Strahm shot him a look before saying,

“It was only three hours, you don’t need to be so dramatic.”

“It was four.” Hoffman corrected him. Strahm just rolled his eyes and locked his car, walking away from the verbal conflict.

“Let’s go find you a dress first.” Strahm said in a hushed voice. Not that there was anyone else in the garage, but if there was he was worried someone would hear the two male voices.

“Does it have to be a dress? Or do you just want to emasculate me?” Hoffman growled slightly.

“There’s no way you’d fit in a woman’s suit.” Strahm stated, as if it was common knowledge. “And this is the FBI, you have to look halfway decent.”

“Your wish is my command, hubby.” Hoffman slapped on the most offensively fake smile as they walked into the mall. While neither of the men knew the layout of the mall, Strahm seemed to fall in behind Hoffman. This was unlike his usual behavior back in New York but Hoffman didn’t think it was worth getting into. They walk up to a directory and find a shop to pick a dress out from, first trying the anchor stores and getting nowhere with that. They tried a specialty store next, with more results. The only issue is the staff seemed to glare as the two men rummaged through the racks to find something that would fit a man like Hoffman. Hoffman noticed that Peter kept stealing looks as he would step out from the dressing room to look at the dress in the full length mirror. “Here, this should fit, but I need to to zip the back up.”

“Fine.” Strahm approached Hoffman and pulled the zipper up. It seemed to fall back as it was just about to close so Strahm told him, “Suck your gut in.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Hoffman rolled his eyes and sucked his stomach in. The zipper went up fine and Strahm secured it with the tiny hooks on the back. His hands slowly lingered onto Hoffman’s hips as they looked at the outfit in the mirror. “Not bad.”

“Yeah, you just look like a nice broad now.” Strahm replied quickly, before realizing where his hands were resting. He took a step back and Hoffman did a half spin to see what his back looked like in the dress, “I think it’ll work.”

“Yeah.” Strahm’s eyes wandered up at the ceiling. Hoffman reveled in this power and slid his hands down his hips with a whistle. Strahm turned his head back to look at the other man before darting his eyes away again. Like fucking putty in Mark’s hands. He walked back to his dressing room, came back out, and quickly threw the garment into Peter’s arms. Strahm shuffled to catch it before Hoffman walked past him and back into the store. Strahm veered towards the cashier before Hoffman pulled him by the back of his shirt and asked,

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To check out.”

“Not before I get some accessories.” He turned Strahm around and took a look at the gaudy earrings the store had on display

“You don’t even have piercings.” Strahm huffed quietly, “You’re not about to get them pierced for this.”

“And if I wanted to?”

“I’d tell you ‘you’re insane’ and pull you out of Claire’s. Dumbass.”

“Well at the very least, you can treat your wife to a nice necklace.”

“Fine.” Strahm sighed, feeling the grip Hoffman had on him growing tighter. “We can go to a jewelry store for that.”

“God you really know how to spoil a woman, it’s a wonder you’re not actually married.” Hoffman teased him, taking the dress from his hands and bringing it up to the counter himself. The cashier at the time didn’t seem to care that two men approached her with a feminine dress. She finished the transaction as quickly as she could, and went back to sulking while the two men headed back into the mall. Hoffman dragged Strahm back to a directory to plan their next course of action. It would be shoes, makeup, and jewelry in that order. There were more than a few instances where Hoffman didn’t need to be so close to the FBI agent, but would still press his body up against the other man. Like when a family tried to walk around the two of them. It would turn Strahm’s face an embarrassing red to have the fabric of Hoffman’s shirt slide across the leather of his jacket. In a low voice that he was certain only Strahm would hear he’d say, “My bad.”

“Just shut up and keep walking” or some variation were the only words Strahm was able to eek out. They managed to find some heels that weren’t ridiculously chunky, and Hoffman could balance on before going to a makeup store in the mall. They found a disgustingly light powder pink that the saleswoman said ‘any girl would love’, while Strahm stood out in the mall proper pretending that he was just shopping with a friend after work. She also threw in some samples that Hoffman didn’t really seem to understand, but was thankful he wasn’t buying any more makeup than was necessary. Not that it was on his dime, but he’d have no use for it after this elaborate fraud. Next, the two walked around a jewelry kiosk. Mark pointed at a diamond necklace and Strahm nearly cussed him out there in front of the sales clerk but just handed the Amex over before there was any questions. They walked back to the car before Strahm excused himself and headed to the bathroom.

“You really can’t wait for 20 minutes to get to the hotel?” Hoffman asked him, rolling his eyes

“It’s four o’clock, there’s no way in hell the ride is only going to be 20 minutes.” Strahm retorted before going in. Hoffman waited impatiently, stamping his foot down and glancing at the clock. How long did it take this idiot to piss? Out of the corner of his eye, Hoffman saw another store that he ducked into. If he was going to be Strahm’s wife, he was going to make the agent really regret it. He hurried back to the spot where Strahm was just zipping up his jacket. “Where were you?”

“Looking at Auntie Anne’s, the fuck does it matter to you?”

With a huff Strahm replied, “Whatever” before beginning the walk back to the car. This time Hoffman was sure to follow behind the agent. He seemed more… on edge than he had been this morning on Hoffman’s doorstep. Were the nerves setting in? Was his bravado really that fragile that shopping for women’s clothing was going to trip up Special Agent Peter Strahm?

“You seem tense.” Hoffman remarked

“I’m fine.” Strahm dodged the accusation, but not very well. There was almost an edge of bitterness in his words. He seemed to realize how rude he’d sounded by the way his eyes softened and said again, “I’m fine” in a much gentler tone.

“Nervous?”

“About?”

“Lying to your employer, the federal government?”

“No. No that’s the easy bit.”

“Easy, huh? Don’t tell me you’ve deceived the government before.”

“Yeah. Then when they caught me in my lie about 5 years later just told them it was a clerical error.”

“How rebellious of you. Never in my wildest dreams could I see you, Agent Strahm, bending the rules. Much less for your amusement.”

“And you’ve always filed your taxes on time.” Strahm laughed

“I’d never mess with my taxes.” Hoffman replied with a slight frown

“Sure thing, altar boy."

[something-tofightfor]

Second and Goal

Pairing: Daniel (Wing Pit SNL sketch character) x Female Reader

Word Count: 6,873

Rating: M - little bit of language, little bit of suggestion. Raider is a literal angel.

Summary: Year 2 of watching the Super Bowl with Daniel looks - and feels - a little different. Plans change, but you're both ready for it.  

Author’s note:

I was very excited to get back to writing for these two, and with last week's Super Bowl pairing, it seemed like the right time. This sets up a couple other potential pieces for them, too... if anyone's interested.

The masterlist for this pairing can be found here in case you need or want to catch up. Enjoy!

You were glad that you’d volunteered to take a shower first. While Daniel was in the bathroom, you curled back up in his bed, closing your eyes and listening to the sound of the running water. 

There wasn’t enough time to get truly comfortable. 

Hopefully, though, there’d at least be time for the Excedrin that you’d taken to start working. Because today’s important. Groaning, you rolled onto your side - and directly into Raider’s body. He whined quietly, but didn’t move otherwise, and when you cracked your eye open, he was watching you, nose resting on his paws. “You keeping me company, buddy?” 

Smiling, you reached out, using one hand to scratch between his ears. 

The dog had taken to you almost immediately. When it had become common for you to spend the night at Daniel’s, he often chose to sleep on your side of the bed. Sometimes it was near the foot of it, just beyond the reach of your legs. Other nights, he squeezed in between your body and the mattress’ edge, forcing you backwards and even closer to Daniel. 

You didn’t mind. He was more than happy to have you close, no matter how much he grumbled about the dog choosing you over him. “But you can’t help it, right?” He lowered his head, his entire body relaxing. “You’re just really smart.” 

“You can take him home with you whenever you want.” Looking over toward the bathroom door, you saw that Daniel was leaning against the doorframe, a dark green towel wrapped around his waist. Even with your headache, you grinned at the sight of his bare torso, eyeing the droplets of water as they ran out of his hair and down the side of his neck. “Since you’ve pretty much already stolen him away from me.” 

“Are you jealous?” Propping yourself up on one elbow, you continued to pet the dog. “Because if you are, you need to remember that you’re the one that encouraged me to make him like me by any means necessary the first time I came over.” Daniel rolled his eyes, running one hand through his hair and slicking it back and away from his face before he moved closer to you. 

“I never said it wasn’t my own damn fault.” He sat down on the mattress, reaching out to pet the dog, too. “Why are you back in bed?” 

“I have a headache.” You shrugged, closing your eyes briefly. “Just wanted to lay down for a couple minutes.” 

“We don’t have to go.” He scooted closer, his hand moving from Raider’s side to your arm, one thumb - still warm from the shower - rubbing along your bicep. “We can stay home today.” You would have loved to do that - changing back into sweatpants and a hoodie and spending the rest of the day curled up on Daniel’s couch under a blanket. “We -”

“No.” Turning your head toward the pillow, you groaned and then peeked up at him. “We have to go. Will and Kyra are really excited, and they already figured the head count into the food and table reservations, so…” You sighed, forcing a smile. “We’ll go.” 

It was more than that, though. You knew how much Daniel looked forward to Super Bowl Sunday every year. It was more than just a game to him; watching was tradition, and even though you would have gladly watched from the comfort of his place with just the two of you, being around others during the game added to the atmosphere. 

“You’re thinking about it.” He leaned in, kissing a slow path over your cheek until he reached your mouth. “We can order pizza. Or wings. That place we got them from last year has another deal. Something about a pallet of ranch?” 

“There are only two of us. That’s entirely too much ranch.” You spoke against his lips, fighting back a smile. “I’ll be fine, Daniel. Just don’t get too mad at me if I’m not as … talkative as I was last year.” He backed away slightly, laying his head against the pillow, but keeping his eyes on you.

“A whole year.” His hand slid up your arm and over your shoulder. “Maybe I should be glad you’re not feeling well. Last time you were friendly at a Super Bowl party, you ended up picking up a stranger. And there’s going to be a ton more of those at the bar today, so -”

“If I remember correctly, I didn’t pick a stranger up at the party.” Wrinkling your nose, you grinned. “I did that in the beer cooler.” 

Daniel’s laugh filled the room, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he closed them. “You did. I was kicking myself for not getting your name before we said goodbye. Thought about you the whole drive to Charlie’s.” 

“You’ve said that. And you also told me you contemplated switching all of your grocery shopping to that store. ” His lips twitched, the man’s smile small but still visible at your words. “I’ll be fine.” Pushing yourself upright, you cocked your head to the side. “I have to be for tomorrow, right?” 

“You do.” He grinned at that, nodding. “I have everything planned … and none of it has to do with football or sports or chicken, or -” 

Leaning in, you cut his words off with a quick kiss, Daniel’s lips soft against yours. He reacted before you could pull away, one of his hands curving around the back of your head to keep you close. But he didn’t deepen the kiss, just prolonged it until he hummed and backed off. “What?”

“I like it when you do that.” He stroked one finger over your cheek, eyes bright. “And I think I always will.” I know you do. “How long do you need to get ready?”

 “My head feels better.” You took a deep breath. “Twenty minutes. Maybe less. And if we leave then, we’ll get there early enough that we aren’t fighting through a crowd to get to our tables.” 

He grinned again, nodding. Daniel moved then, easing away from you and standing, one hand going to his waist to keep the towel in place. “Sounds good.” He turned away from the bed and you kept your eyes on him, focused on the flex of his back muscles. Hmm. 

“You can let go of that towel, Daniel. I wouldn’t mind.” He laughed, the sound covered partially by the creak of the closet door hinges… but moments later the towel fell away, exposing the entire back of his body to you. Perfect. “Much better.” He paused before stepping into the space, looking back at you from over one shoulder. 

“Exactly how many of the twenty minutes that you need are going to be spent staring at my ass?” 

Covering your face with both hands you laughed hard, thankful that it didn’t bring the headache back full force. “None, you jerk.” Groaning, you pushed the blanket off and got out of the bed, too. “I’ll just do it tonight when we get home.” 

“We don’t have to get up early tomorrow,” he continued to speak as he entered the closet, disappearing from view. “So you’ll have as much time as you need.” Good. You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. Because I’m going to need a while. 

— 

But almost two hours later, you were beginning to doubt that you’d be staring at anything later that night that wasn’t the inside of your eyelids. 

The headache hadn’t been bad for the first hour or so, and had even almost completely disappeared once you’d started eating. You’d made conversation with the people you knew - Kyra showing you pictures of their kitchen remodel, two of Daniel’s colleagues stopping by the table you stood at to ask how you’d been since it had been a few weeks since you’d seen each other at one of your trivia nights. 

You’d attempted to have a drink, but after only a few sips, pushed the glass away and switched to water. That helped, and by the time the actual game started, you were feeling more like yourself and flitting between the four tables that had been reserved, going between conversations and paying attention to the oversized TV screens in the bar. 

It was much different than it had been the previous year when it came to how close you and Daniel stayed throughout the night. He checked in with you; one hand pressed against your lower back as he kissed you on the temple, asking if you were ok, a raised eyebrow from across the table during a conversation, his expression only settling once you nodded and gave him a wink. But you weren’t constantly next to or speaking to each other, and despite the dull pain behind your eyes, you understood that that was a good thing - your relationship strong enough that neither of you felt threatened or possessive, even in a bar filled with people letting loose and having a good time. No, we know each other better than that. 

Finishing your water, you reached for the pitcher to refill your glass and frowned when you realized it was empty. Before you could head to the bar for a refill, though, a tall plastic cup appeared in front of you at the same time someone’s body pressed against yours from behind, one arm curling around your waist. “Ginger ale. Thought it might help a little.” 

You sagged against him almost immediately, both eyes closed. “Thank you.” Turning your head to kiss Daniel’s bearded cheek, you hummed and then moved your mouth closer to his ear. “Needed it. The bubbles - “

“The bubbles help. I know.” He pressed his palm against your stomach, nodding before he lowered his head and kissed the top of your shoulder. “You still good?”

“I’m alright.” Turning to look at him, you raised the cup and took a long drink. “Headache’s starting to come back, but it’s not terrible yet, and -”

“We can leave.” He chewed on his lower lip, eyes focused on your face. “We made an appearance, we can go. It’s not -” His attention was diverted as you heard a cheer, both of you looking up at the closest TV, where San Francisco’s kicker had just scored the first points of the game. “Shit.” 

Despite your headache, you snorted, holding back a laugh. “No. If I need to leave, I can take an Uber home. It’s only like fifteen minutes away, and everyone’s already at their parties, so it’ll be cheap.” He looked like he wanted to say something but you didn’t let him, lifting one hand and pressing a finger against his lips. “I’m OK. I’d tell you if I wasn’t.” 

“If you say so.” He shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Need anything?” You thought for a few seconds and then nodded, wrinkling your nose. 

“Yeah. Will you get a new jersey next year? There are other players on the team, you know.” He looked offended for a few seconds and then sighed, placing both hands on your hips as you pressed a palm to the center of his chest. “Number 84 is pretty c-”

“As long as you don’t want to see me in a Kelce jersey, I’m… wait.” He narrowed his eyes, leaning in. “Watson? You -”

“We can talk about it later.” Smiling too, you closed your eyes and tilted your head, waiting for his kiss. It came - slow and soft, Daniel’s lips lingering against yours for long moments. He backed away, though he didn’t stop touching you. “But no, the last thing I’d want to see you in is that jersey, especially since -”

“I know.” He winked at you, both hands dropping. “I’m just being an asshole.” Curling your fingers briefly against the material of his jersey, you then pushed him away, turning back to reach for your cup. 

You weren’t surprised that he’d been thoughtful enough to get you something else to drink, but you were very thankful, the carbonated liquid a nice change from the water. There was just over ten minutes left in the second quarter, and even though you felt alright, you knew that you weren’t going to make it the entire game at the bar. And the later it gets, the less he’s going to want to leave. 

Taking another sip, you scanned the crowd, looking for Kyra until you found her, standing next to two women you only knew by sight. I’ll start my exit now, so when I end up leaving, it won’t be sudden. Working your way over to them, you reached out to touch your friend’s shoulder, her head whipping toward where you stood. “Hey. How’s it going? Did you eat? There’s -”

“I did.” Nodding, you pointed with the hand that held the cup. “Those potato skins? Amazing.” Kyra agreed, the woman pausing before she introduced you to the two she was talking to. Though they were friendly, Audrey - one of Kyra’s neighbors - was less so, her greeting almost cold. I didn’t do anything, though. So what… weird. 

Only a few minutes later, Kyra led you away from the women and toward the exit, pulling you out onto the covered patio, where it was less crowded - and much quieter. “I’m sorry about her.” Kyra sighed. “She’s just little…” Scratching her head, she took a long swig from her beer. “She just got divorced a couple months ago and is looking to get back out and date. I told her there’d be a couple of our single friends here today, and she…” Kyra rolled her eyes. “She decided she liked one of the ones that isn’t single, and -”

“Daniel?” You laughed, narrowing your eyes. “Of course.” Your friend winced, looking around and then settling her gaze back on you. “I take it she saw him and I together and got upset?” 

“Not upset. Disappointed is more like it. And she actually walked up to him and tried to talk to him, but he just…wasn’t having it.” She shrugged. “You got a good one. He was polite, but very quick to shut her down.” I know I did. It didn’t surprise you that he hadn’t entertained the woman’s flirting, but hearing your friend’s confirmation made you much more certain of your relationship’s foundation. “You don’t seem like you’re having fun, though. Is everything OK?”

“I’m not feeling well.” You decided to be blunt, sipping from your cup again. “I have a headache, and the noise isn’t helping. Daniel offered to stay home with me, but I know how much he wanted to come, so…” You frowned, clearing your throat. “I’m here, but I don’t know how long I’m going to make it.” 

“Do you need me to take you home?” She leaned against the wall, concern evident in her expression. “I will. I love football, but I really don’t give a shit about this matchup, so -” 

“No. It’s your party.” You finished the ginger ale, tossing the cup into the trash can beside you. “Stay. I’ll call an Uber, that way no one has to leave.” She opened her mouth to speak, but you continued. “Just because I feel like shit, I don’t want to ruin everyone else’s day.” 

There was more cheering, and when you peeked at one of the TVs, you saw that San Francisco had scored again, widening their lead. Oh, he’s going to be so sad. “Will’s probably going nuts.” She rolled her eyes. “I should go in and check on him. He put money on the Chiefs, and -”

“Go.” You smiled, waving her off. “I’ll be back in in a minute. I’m going to check rides.” 

She left you and headed back in, and as soon as she was gone, you pulled your phone out, navigating to the rideshare app. The fare was slightly more than you expected but still reasonable, and even though you knew it would have upset him, you considered ordering a car before going in to say goodbye. No. I can’t do that. 

So instead, you headed back in, easing through the crowd and saying hello to a few people while you sought out Daniel. It took you a minute to find him among the sea of men in red jerseys, but when you did catch sight of your boyfriend, you beelined it to him. If I go soon, I can be home before the halftime show and watch it wrapped up in a blanket and - 

“C’mere.” He took your hand before you could say anything, pulling you against his side. “You disappeared. I -”

“I went outside to talk to Ky.” Looking over at him, you took a breath. “I was explaining to her why I’m leaving. I just checked, and the rides -”

He moved before you finished, urging you toward the bar’s exit, but he stayed quiet until you were outside on the sidewalk. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes.” You held up a hand. “And you don’t have to come with me. Rides are cheap right now, so you can stay here and finish watching the game.” You paused, arching a brow. “If things stay the same as they are now, you’ll need other Chiefs fans around for some moral support.” He mouthed the word ouch, wrinkling his nose. 

“Right to it, hm?” He scratched the side of his head, the strands of his hair slipping through his fingers. “That’s cold. Kick a man when his team is down.” 

“I’m just going home so I can gloat in peace.” You laughed, the sound turning into a hiss and a wince as pain spiked against one temple again. Ow. “I -”

“I’m coming with you.” He stepped closer, reaching out to wrap his fingers around your arm. “No way I’m going to stay here and have a good time if -”

“No, Daniel.” Despite what you knew about Kyra’s friend’s interest, you wanted Daniel to stay at the party. “The whole point is that you wanted to watch the game with -”

“I want to watch it with you.” He frowned, saying your name. “Here or at home, it doesn’t matter. And I’ve read too many horror stories about people in rideshares that get taken advantage of. I’m not going to let you get into one and -” 

“I’m going to feel like an asshole if you leave.” You were defeated, annoyance and anger vying with gratitude for your dominant emotional response. “It’s one day a -”

“You’re sick. It’s not like you want to go.” He pointed back at the bar, understanding etched across his features. “I’ll go inside and get our coats. Here.” He stuffed a hand into his pocket. “Take the keys and go sit. I’ll be right back.” You opened your mouth to argue, holding up a hand, but Daniel shook his head quickly, looping the carabiner on his keys over two of your fingers. “Don’t argue with me. You know I’ll win.” 

“OK.” You didn’t want to fight; you just wanted to sit down. “Tell them -”

“We’ll tell them later. You already told Ky. It’s fine.” Leaning in, he kissed your cheek. “Two minutes.” 

He disappeared back into the bar and you sighed and turned toward the parking lot. It was a short walk to the car, and when you sat down a few moments later, you sunk into the plush seat, groaning. 

If Daniel were anyone else, you knew that you’d probably have to hear about how upset he was to have left the game before it was over once you were feeling better. But he’s not like that. You were thankful for him - thankful for the fact that even though Daniel had has interests, and was very vocal about doing the things he enjoyed doing, he never held grudges as revenge or brought things from the past up during the very few arguments that you’d had. It was different than in previous relationships, and you knew that you’d lucked out finding him. 

The car door opened and so did your eyes, Daniel peeking his head in before sitting. “It’s me. You ok?”

“Yes.” Giving him a small smile, you straightened up. “Everything alr-”

“It is.” Daniel sat and pressed the ignition button, buckling his seatbelt, too. “Let’s get you home.”

— 

You were settled on the couch before the halftime report ended, a blanket tucked around your shoulders. When Daniel reentered the room carrying two bottles of water and a handful of ibuprofen, you managed a large - and genuine smile. “I could have gotten that myself.” 

“You were already sitting.” He shrugged, handing one of the bottles and the pills to you. “And I didn’t want you to miss the start of the performance. You’ve been talking about this for a week, and -”

“Listen.” Swallowing the medicine, you followed it with a long drag of water as Daniel sat next to you, propping both feet up on his coffee table. “You don’t get it. You weren’t a teenage girl when he got huge and  My Way and U Remind Me came out. And have you seen him dance?”

“I have.” He wound an arm around your shoulders and urged you closer, so that you could rest your head on his shoulder. “But have you seen me dance?” 

“Once or twice.” Looking up, you watched Daniel’s smile grow, his hand sweeping slowly over your blanket-covered shoulder. “But only when you’ve been drinking.” He laughed quietly, tightening his hold on you and mumbling that’s not true, but before you could reply, the TV switched back to the field, the lights dimmed. 

Despite your headache you hummed along with the music throughout the performance, one of your hands moving from under the blanket to rest on Daniel’s thigh, that thumb arcing over the soft denim to the beat. 

He sang along quietly during a few parts, catching you off guard, but you didn’t look away from the TV - until Daniel finally spoke up. “He’s really sweaty. Do you think that that bedazzled outfit is weighing him -”

“Be quiet, he’s taking his shirt off.” Leaning forward, you bit your lip. “I-”

“Wow, that headache seems to be much better now.” He sniffed. “I see how it is.”

“Shhh. I’m watching.” He laughed and then you felt his hand on your back, slowly working its way up and then back down. As Usher disappeared from the stage, you looked over at Daniel again. “Most exciting part of this game so far.” 

“There’s still a whole half left.” He arched a brow. “Plenty of time left for more exciting things to happen.” He looked away, focusing back on the TV, but you stared at him, heart pounding. He’d willingly left the party on his favorite day of the year just because you weren’t feeling well. He’d pulled himself away from friends and unlimited food to spend the remainder of the game alone with you in his quiet, dark living room. 

“Daniel, thank you for -” 

“Is he on fucking roller skates?” Daniel leaned forward, blinking quickly. “When the fuck -”

You finally looked away and back at the screen, bursting out into laughter and rubbing at your forehead with one hand. “I don’t know but this is impressive. Is there anything he can’t do?”

“Yeah, apparently he hasn’t eaten a goddamn carb in like four years…” Daniel trailed off, still watching. “It’s unfair, right? That one person’s that good at so many things, and -”

“Valentine’s Day is in a couple days. I could buy you some skates. You can learn, too.” You smiled as his head swiveled toward you, a scowl on his face. 

“My shoe size is 11, thanks.” He only managed to keep his expression flat for a few seconds and then both of you laughed together, Daniel pulling you back against his side as the song switched again. “This playlist is like all of the college nights out at the bar of my nightmares coming back to haunt me.” 

“Those were dark times.” He released you and you used the opportunity to re-wrap the blanket around your shoulders. “Do you remember Party Rock Anthem? That was a little later, but …”

“Unfortunately.” He sighed and shuddered. “I’m so glad we only hang out in bars where the volume is kept at a reasonable level now.” You snorted, scooting back next to him, and his arm went back across your shoulders as the performance came to an end. “What year did this even come out?” He did a quick search, scoffing as he read the screen of his phone. “Twenty years ago. Can you believe -.” 

“So…. An AARP membership and roller skates for Valentine’s Day. Got it.” He was quiet as the TV switched back to commercials, but then Daniel said your name again, waiting until you were looking at him to continue. 

“You’re welcome. You don’t need to thank me, but you’re welcome. It’s just a game. I can watch it anywhere.” He leaned in, pressing his lips to the center of your forehead. “As long as it’s with you.”

The two of you had gotten close in the year you’d known each other. Though things hadn’t been official that entire time, once you’d made that distinction, the relationship progressed quickly. Neither of you had said those words yet, but it didn’t mean that you didn’t feel them. And you thought that he did, too, even if he didn’t speak them out loud. You were together more often than you were apart when you weren’t working, and he made you feel comfortable and cared for in a way that still stunned you. This is proof of that. 

“Sap.” You sighed, pulling back and standing. “I’m going to get something to snack on, do you want anything?” 

He didn’t. So you headed into the kitchen and decided on a bowl of popcorn, leaning against the counter while it popped. Your head felt better but still not great, though the fact that there was no excess noise had helped a ton. I knew it would. 

You dressed the popcorn with butter, salt and the seasoning that you knew was Daniel’s favorite, and then headed back into the other room. He’d moved to the corner of the couch, slinging the blanket over his shoulders and leaving the end of it loose and ready for you. “Hold this.” He took the bowl and you sat, getting comfortable, pressed against his side. 

It was cozy, and for the next little while, the two of you watched the game in silence, the amount of popcorn in the bowl dwindling thanks to both of your appetites. You wondered if Kansas City was ever going to score, and when they finally did, Daniel cheered happily - stiffening behind you and tightening his arm around your shoulders. “It’s only a field goal, don’t get too excited, Harper.” 

“I’ll take what I can get.” He kissed  the top of your head and you closed your eyes, settling in further against him. His breathing - deep and even - calmed you. You dozed until his team scored again, Daniel’s excited yelp waking you fully. “There’s the lead, baby!” You groaned, the sound turning into a yawn, but opened your eyes and looked at the screen, watching the celebration. 

“Still a quarter to go,” you mumbled. “Don’t get cocky.” 

“No, that’s later.” He laughed. “That was horrible, I’m sorry.” You agreed, but didn’t say anything, instead turning your head inward and toward his chest, groaning a second time. “The one thing I didn’t plan out for tomorrow is breakfast. Did you want to go out somewhere, or eat here, or …”

“I can cook for you.” Sitting up, you made direct eye contact. “Breakfast in bed?” 

“But then you’d have to get up early.” Daniel’s frown grew, the lines between his eyes deepening. “And we’re supposed to sleep in since we took the day off.” 

“I didn’t say early.” Winking, you shrugged. “Whenever your dog wakes me up to let him out, I can start.” He agreed - hesitantly - and then you both went back to the game, the 4th quarter clock already ticking down. 

And it was you that cheered next when San Francisco scored, clapping your hands together and nodding, even as Daniel swore under his breath from next to you. “Are we ever going to root for the same team? Or is this going to be a yearly thing to us to be on opposing sides? Because -”

“I don’t know, Daniel. Are the Chiefs ever not going to get in?” Shifting so that you could get more comfortable, you gestured toward the TV. “If the Ravens had won, you’d be rooting for the Niners with me, since they beat your team.” 

“True.” He took your hand, squeezing. “But luckily they didn’t.” You rolled your eyes, twisting your wrist so that you could link your fingers together 

“We’ll just have to wait and see what happens next season.” You squeezed back, searching his expression. “See if we can go three years in a row on choosing opposing teams and not coming out of the game mad at each other.”

“I’m sure we’ll be alright.” He tilted his head. “But does that mean that you think my Chiefs will be back in the -” I guess it does. 

“You never know.” Gesturing at the TV again, you made a show of rolling your eyes. “They’ve been throwing around the term dynasty and comparing him to Brady for the last three hours, so…” Daniel’s laugh was quiet, but when he pulled you closer by your joined hands, you let him, leaning into his side again. 

“He is really good. And Kelce is -”

“If I never hear that man’s name again in my life, it will be too soon.” Daniel laughed again at your words, both of you going quiet as the field goal unit came out onto the field - and tied the game. “Ok, this is interesting.” 

Despite the lingering headache, you were interested in the outcome - and especially with so little time left and a tied score. “Holy shit. I didn’t actually think…” Daniel swore quietly, reaching for his phone and sending a message out. “Charlie’s got to be shitting himself right now.” 

You wondered how your friends were doing, and if the bar was still packed, and on a whim, you said Daniel’s name, getting his attention. “Take a picture of us, I want to send it to Ky.” He did, lifting the phone and reversing the camera so that you could see yourselves on the screen. 

It was a good picture, both of you looking cozy under the blanket. When he sent it to you a few seconds later, you quickly typed a message to go along with it before you send it to your friend, hoping it would make her laugh whenever she saw it. 

One of us is really excited about this tied game. The other is just glad to be in sweatpants. 

He laughed at the text, but you felt him deflate when San Francisco kicked yet another field goal to take the lead with a little under two minutes left. They might actually win. I know I shouldn’t get excited, but … 

The clock continued to wind down, and when - with 3 seconds left - Kansas City kicked an answering field goal to tie it again, you stood, throwing your arms up in the air. “Bullshit. This game has been entirely too boring to go into overtime.” 

“I agree, but since this is the last football we get until August, I’m not going to complain.” He had a point, but you stayed on your feet, standing just in front of the couch. “Oh, shit, you know what?” Daniel reached out, fingers grazing over the back of your hand. “We forgot the envelopes.” 

You gasped and spun to face him, looking down at where he still sat. “We did.” Pausing, you pointed at the steps. “I can go get-”

“No, you stay here.” Standing, he pushed past you, heading in the direction of his bedroom. “I’ll be right back.” You watched until he disappeared, listening to the sound of his footsteps thudding up the carpeted steps. 

Both of you had decided not to gamble on the game with actual cash that year, and instead keep the wager between the two of you. If the Chiefs won, Daniel got to open the envelope you’d sealed your wager into, and if the Niners won, you opened his. 

The only stipulation you’d agreed to was that the “reward” couldn’t be anything sexual in nature. Despite the fact that both of you knew what each other’s limits were, you’d decided that a sealed bet wasn’t the best place to offer anything that could be interpreted as an obligation to accept. Even though that could have been fun. 

He reappeared a few moments later, the envelopes in one hand and Raider trailing down the stairs after him. “He was sleeping on your side of the bed again.” Daniel rolled his eyes. “I think he was disappointed it was me coming up and not you.” 

“Doubtful.” But he padded toward you, nudging the side of your leg with his nose, tail wagging back and forth. “Maybe.” Daniel mumbled something that you didn’t catch before setting the envelopes on the table and wrapping his arms around you. “Daniel, w-” 

He didn’t speak as he urged you to sit back on the couch with him, both of you landing on the cushions at the same time. Raider watched for a few seconds and then walked away, turning around twice and then flopping down onto the bed in the corner of the room, facing toward where you sat. 

“How’s your head?” He spoke into your ear, mouth hovering just above it. “You seem like you’re doing better.” 

“I am.” You didn’t look away from the TV, daring to feel a little hope as San Francisco drove the ball down the field, eating up the remaining time. “And if they can pull this off, I’ll feel great.”

“Now who’s being cocky?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “There’s still plenty of time. And both teams get the ball, so…” So there’s a chance. 

To your disappointment, the end result was only a field goal. Ok, they can do this. They just need to hold them off. Your heartbeat quickened as the time ticked down - and the Chiefs got closer and closer to the end zone. 

Daniel’s response was expected, too, the man sitting up straight and then leaning forward, both hands rubbing together. Splitting your attention between the TV and him, you understood what was going to happen before it played out, letting out a sigh when you saw Mahomes release the ball and focusing on Daniel instead. It was fun while it lasted. 

He shot to his feet as the catch was made, both hands raised over his head as he whooped in excitement. It startled Raider, the dog’s head lifting. But after the single outburst, he hissed and then swore, looking down at you. “I’m sorry. Your headache, I didn’t -” 

Waving him off, you stood too. “It’s fine. Congratulations to your team.” He paused and then reached for you, carefully pulling you into his arms. “I still think it was a boring game, but…”

“It was.” He kissed you, nodding. “But I’ve gotta be honest with you.” His smile widened, the man’s dark eyes focused on you. “I think I liked tonight better than last year.”

“Why?” It made no sense - he’d had a great time at Charlie’s, and from what you’d seen, Daniel’s time at the bar had been just as enjoyable for him. He likes high energy places. He likes … people. And crowds. And he likes being with people that like the same things as he does. “It’s so quiet. And the only other person here was rooting against your team, and -”

“Because I can do this without worrying someone’s going to get offended.” 

He moved quickly, one hand sliding up to the middle of your back and the other rising to tilt your face. Ah. Makes sense. He kissed you hungrily, though he was still holding back - Daniel’s lips parted when they met yours, the tip of his tongue dragging along the fullest part of your lower one moments later. 

You welcomed the kiss, opening your mouth in encouragement - and Daniel was quick to deepen it, his hum of approval vibrating through you. You dragged your fingers through his hair, the soft strands curling against your palm. Before you could get too comfortable, he pulled away, sighing. “Kyra would have lost her shit if you did that last year.”

“I wanted to.” He nodded, his expression solemn. “Barely knew you, but it took all my willpower not to make a move in that living room or in the kitchen.” He’d told you something similar before, but it still made you feel good to know that he meant it. 

“Now you don’t have to worry about that.” Wrinkling your nose, you tugged on his hair. “Might have gotten a couple strange looks in that bar, but I wouldn’t have cared.” Using your chin, you gestured to the table. “You won the bet. Are you going to open your envelope?” 

He looked down at where they laid, pausing before turning his attention back to you. “In a minute. I think I want to kiss you again first.” And he did, though that kiss was shorter than the previous one and ended with his teeth closing around your lip followed by a gentle suck as he backed away. Oh, I love it when he does that. 

He stroked his thumb over your cheek and then bent down, picking up the envelope with his name on it. 

“A bet is a bet.” Putting your hands on your hips, you raised both brows, waiting. “Here we go.” Sliding his finger beneath the flap, he opened the envelope, using two fingers to pull the folded sheet of paper free. “Ok, let’s see… what does…” He stopped speaking, clearly confused. Weren’t expecting that, were you. Daniel looked up, frowning. “Seriously?”

“We said it had to be significant but it couldn’t be sex, so…” 

“But this is …” He looked down and then back up, chewing on his lower lip. “Three freebies? What does that even mean?”

“It means, Daniel, that you get three opportunities to make a request of me, and as long as it’s something reasonable, I can’t say no.” His lips twitched upward, and you continued. “You don’t really ask for much, but I thought … I don’t know. If we have plans and you decide you don’t want to go, or if there’s something you want to do… just ask.” You shrugged. “Blank check times three.”

“Why three?” He was smiling broadly, the slip of paper still in his hand, though he didn’t look at it. “And not only one?”

“One didn’t seem like enough, and two was a weird number. So… three.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “Is that dumb? I didn’t think so. I just -”

“No, it’s perfect.” He reached out, taking your hand. “I’ll make ‘em good ones, I promise.” You knew he would - and you also knew that Daniel would save his prize until he came up with the right choices. Just to catch me by surprise. 

“Good. I’m looking forward to finding out what they are.” Stepping away from him, you looked up and at the clock on his wall. “And I know it’s early, but I think I’m going to go and lay down. I want to get some sleep.”

“I’ll let Raider out and then be up, too.” He whistled, and the dog stood, hurrying toward the back door. “See you in a few.” 

You headed upstairs and into the bathroom, getting ready for bed on autopilot. It only took you a few minutes, and by the time Daniel made it up to the bedroom, you were already laying down with the lights off. God, it feels good to lay down.

He was quick getting ready to lay down, too. When he climbed in next to you, there was no hesitation before he was winding an arm around you and urging you closer. “Where’s Raider?”

“I crated him tonight. Didn’t want him jumping in the bed.” He rubbed your back, the motion soothing. “Figured you could use a night of uninterrupted sleep.” Uninterrupted from you, too? He kept touching you, the movement of his hand pushing your shirt up to expose the skin of your back. Guess not. Daniel sought it out, the warmth of his palm making contact with your bare body 

You moved even closer, letting yourself relax under his touch. “Hey.” You spoke a few minutes later, voice quiet in the darkened room. “Isn’t sex supposed to be good for headaches?” He stopped moving, fingers curling inward.

“I…” His hand started moving again, slowly. “I might have read that somewhere.” You reached out to touch him then, your fingers catching on the elastic waistband of his pants. “Are you suggesting we test that theory?”

It only took you a few seconds to decide, hooking your fingers between the material and his skin and then tugging. Daniel’s hips jerked forward at the contact, your name little more than a whisper as he spoke it. “Yeah. I am.” 

— 

[idontknowreallywhy]

Estera Ch 5 - Lesson

(Prologue, Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4)

Have I finally got them out of the cave?

Will there be drama when they get to the surface?

Only one way to find out :)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“Et tu, Brute?!”

“Then fall, Caesar” Estera muttered as a reflex. It always drove her crazy when the line was unfinished.

“Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!”

Her head snapped up in surprise to see him grinning. Well! She hadn’t expected him to actually know it. Laughing, she gestured behind him.

“If I promise not to stab you, can I have a quick look? I am a qualified first aider, maybe I can help?”

He backed into the wall.

“Honestly, it’s fine, just a little scratch and a bruise I can get it sorted when we are out.”

“It would be a good opportunity to demonstrate some of the lessons the children have learned in class? And it would keep their minds off other things.”

Right on cue, Sam appeared at her side with an eager expression and the smaller, more portable first aid kit she’d stowed in her rucksack just in case. If only she’d brought the large one.

“Oh wow that’s a big kit… you like to be prepared huh?”

She snorted derisively and beckoned him forward. There was a pause. She raised an eyebrow and waited.

His shoulders sagged and he walked towards her with a wry smile and a whispered “I am never going to live this down.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Having checked there were definitely no hitherto hidden exits he could take advantage of, he reluctantly sat down where she indicated and allowed her to step behind him, hoping it she wouldn’t pass out again. The rock had clearly nicked a couple of enthusiastic vessels because the sticky sensation had crept all the way down to the small of his back and it probably looked way more dramatic than it was. He plastered on a reassuring smile for the kids but none were looking at him because they were all crowded around a large bottle of hand sanitiser. Wait, what? Little Alex had a gleam in his eye as he scrubbed up to the elbows like a surgeon preparing for a transplant.

The smile became a little fixed. He wasn’t sure he had consented to a team approach.

The teacher was explaining something and had their rapt attention. He let himself be carried along by her voice too, it had a musical quality to it that was soothing. Lucky that, for someone who worked with little kids. He drifted a little then jumped as her face appeared over his left shoulder and he suddenly realised she’d been talking directly to him.

“Can I cut your suit? It’s got a little mangled.”

“No.”

“Oh. It’s already quite damaged I’m afraid…”

He shook himself.

“Sorry, I mean you won’t be able to… Here, use this.” He palmed the micro laser cutter from his baldric. “Um… maybe don’t give that to the kids.”

He winced as he felt the air on his back. Fortunately it was only the one pair of hands that proceeded to clean the wound, the small ones had paired off and were enthusiastically swabbing each other instead. Her hands were cooler than Virgil’s, but had a similar level of confidence… He forced himself to relax.

Suddenly, the eager mini-medics all crowded round, watching intently. Then retreated like a wave and started covering each other in steri strips.

“Right, should we use warm or cold for bruising, everyone?”

“COOOOOOLD” came the unanimous reply.

She reappeared over his shoulder, accompanied by the cracking of instant cold packs. “I’m going pop a couple of these over your ribs then tape your suit up to hold them in place. I think it would be best to put your arm in a sling to reduce the chance of you pulling the shoulder wound open again.”

For the sake of being a good example to the children he agreed. That was the only reason. Nothing to do with the power of the teacher voice. He sighed… “Yes, Miss”.

A little hand slipped into his and he looked down at Alex who was looking back at him earnestly.

“It’s ok for rescuers to need rescuing sometimes isn’t it, Mr Scott?”

He was saved from finding an appropriate response by his brother breaking through the wall.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

There had been a LOT of hugging and relieved tears. The rescuer who introduced himself as Virgil had finally gathered the parents to give them some quick advice on symptoms of dust inhalation and when they should seek assistance. Meanwhile the blue-eyed one, Scott that was it, was left-handedly signing the kids’ tattered worksheets and distributing tiny die-cast thunderbird models to many squeals of delight. She chuckled to herself as Alex excitedly snatched a model of the red rocket ship before reconsidering and replacing it with the silver and blue one, gazing adoringly at his new favourite-person-in-the-whole-world.

With any luck, much of the trauma of the situation the children had experienced would be overshadowed by the wonder of meeting their heroes. As she watched the injured man pulling funny faces and offering high fives she realised that was entirely deliberate on their part.

She really should find out more about them. The kids, apparently, had encyclopaedic knowledge and it would be best if she could keep up with what was going to be the primary topic of conversation for the foreseeable. They might not forgive her ignorance as quickly as with the plesiosaurs.

It wasn’t that she had deliberately ignored the Thunderbirds’ existence, hard to do that when they were all over the press (and she had to keep confiscating the trading cards until the end of the school day). Scott certainly seemed a bit familiar so she must have seen a press conference or something at some stage. But, well, she’d generally tried to shield herself a little from constant news of disaster and destruction that she could do little to fix. She threw herself into small scale things. She tried not to get overwhelmed by a world determined to drown her in that same sense of helplessness she’d battled against as her country collapsed around her, as she’d stared into the horrified eyes of a soul who knew he was about to die...

Ahhhh, she shook herself, that was the third time today he’d slipped through her defences. She really had to practice her exercises more. Screwing up her face then relaxing it into a pleasant smile she began to approach the group of parents who were beginning to disperse after their medical debriefing.

And got hijacked by two EMTs keen to ask her about her fainting fit in the cave. One of the children must have tattled on her.

She smiled politely, assured them confidently that she had no head injury but suffered from mild claustrophobia and that plus the shock of everything was probably all it was. Feeling it would be hypocritical to refuse, she allowed them to check her vitals and make some notes while she finally looked up and took in the bizarre scene around her. Her eyes drifted past the gleaming silver rocket towards the huge green cargo ship she’d heard so much about. Plenty of room for pockets indeed… she stifled a laugh and her gaze settled on the two international rescue operatives sat on the side of the ramp leading into the ship. The second man had seemed nice, if somewhat harried and oddly concerned about his colleague.

Beyond the temporary floodlights the sun was beginning to set, the sky was clear and the early stars were visible. She was struck by how close she had come to not seeing them again and felt a wave of gratitude for the second chance.

Third, actually.

She looked up the stars and wished she could have thanked the person who’d given her the second.

And then gasped, she had nearly done it again! They were about to leave and she hadn’t actually managed to find the time to express her thanks. She extricated herself from the attentions of the EMTs and hurried over to the two men in blue, running through a few potential phrases in her mind. They’d probably heard it all before.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to bother you again”

Scott half looked up from where he was perched on a boulder and smiled distractedly while his colleague fussed over him with a medi-scanner. Without his helmet on he looked older than she was expecting, maybe early 40s, a hint of grey shot through the chestnut at his temples and the shadows under his eyes and cheekbones made her wonder just how many “long days” the guy had experienced recently. There was a deep sense of tiredness about him.

“I didn’t want to let you go without properly thanking you for all your help down there” she unthinkingly stuck out her right hand, realising too slowly that he wasn’t going to be able to take it.

Before she could withdraw it he’d reached out with his left hand, twisted his wrist to grasp her right and shook it awkwardly.

“Well thank you for patching me up, you left this little guy with not a lot to do.”

There was a huff behind him prompting another grin which this time reached his eyes as he looked up at her. Blue… vivid, unmistakable blue, sparkled with amusement and a spike of adrenaline hit her like a train.

It was him.

He was still holding her hand but hers was numb and she couldn’t feel it. The ground she was standing on tilted suddenly and she tried to hold on tighter to steady herself but her muscles wouldn’t respond

And she was going to fall.

And she heard him scream.

But he was still smiling and hadn’t noticed the world was collapsing. His eyes held a question.

“Thank you for rescuing me” her voice cracked

“Again.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“Virgil, please, it’s alright. Look it’s just a bit of bruising and a few cuts which you’ll note are already expertly dressed.”

His brother scowled at the scanner which, for once, was backing up Scott’s assertion that he was fine.

Virgil’s litany of grumbling was interrupted by the reappearance of the teacher.

She was younger than he’d thought, probably early 30s, and he was amused to see that amongst the dusty strands of dark brown hair that had fallen from the practical knot at the back of her neck was a lock of bright blue. A little rebellious streak perhaps?

He gave her a tiny wink along with the backwards handshake and wondered how hard Virgil would kick him if he asked for her number.

The blood drained from her face as their eyes met. Huh, not the usual reaction to his attempts to flirt, he noted wryly, maybe he was losing his touch.

Wait, what did she mean “Again”? He frowned in confusion. When had they…?

The sense of unease rushed back into his bones and brought all of its howling friends.

The smell of rust, the taste of blood, a decade of phantoms.

Without conscious thought he was on his feet and had dragged his arm from the sling to grab her by the shoulders as he studied her face… it couldn’t be…

She visibly flinched but lifted her chin to hold his gaze.

Realising his mistake he hurriedly released her and tried to find words, any words… but none would come. His lips moved soundlessly as he stared. It couldn’t be, could it?

“Miss Hermaszewska, mummy says have you got my inhaler?”

She blinked and turned to follow the child who tugged at her sleeve.

Virgil had him by the good arm and was leading him back towards the ships, his concerned voice rumbling questions Scott couldn’t focus on right now. He tried to follow her and his brother’s grip tightened, restraining him. Fury and panic raged through his veins. He snarled and shook the unrelenting hands off violently, spinning to face the aggressor before the shocked face of his brother snapped him back to the present and his heart plummeted.

He ran for his ship and One was in the air before the seat had fully retracted.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Chapter 6…

[cariantha]

Daddy Distress

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: General Warning: None Category: Fluff Word count: 1.3K Prompt: Based on this ask from @socalwriterbee. What would Ethan's reaction be to his son calling him by his name, instead of Daddy? Also for @choicesjunechallenge, I used the prompt: Father’s Day

As Ethan entered the penthouse, he could hear their happy voices. He dropped his laptop bag on the floor and called out to his family. 

“Hey guys, I’m home!”  

"Hi, babe!"

It was a familiar greeting he heard almost every day but not one he expected from his three-year-old son.

Sawyer broke out into uncontrollable laughter, tears rolling down her cheeks. Ethan couldn’t help but crack a smile, too.

“What?!” Bending down, he swooped his son into his arms and asked, “Babe? Why are you calling me babe?”

"Dat your name."

"Noooo, my name is Ethan."

"E-tan?"

"Yes."

A couple of hours later, it was time to put their toddler to bed.

"Time for bed, sweetie. Go get your cuddles from Daddy and say nightnight. I'll go get your sippy cup."

Returning to the living room, Sawyer’s heart melted at the sight before her. Lying peacefully on her husband’s chest, their son nuzzled his chestnut waves into the crook of his father’s neck. Ethan’s large hand gently scratched the little one’s back while a much smaller hand absent-mindedly rubbed the grown man’s stubbled cheek.

As Sawyer came near, Ethan stood to pass him into his mother’s arms.

"Goodnight, buddy. I love you."

"Night, E-tan."

Sawyer giggled, and Ethan rolled his eyes.

🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

It was funny at first that his mini-me addressed him by his first name. But after a couple of days, it was no longer amusing. Sawyer sensed the frustration when Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose as they exited their son’s room. 

"What's the matter?"

"I just miss being called ‘Dad.' He's growing up so fast, but he's still my baby boy, Sawyer. And… and it just reminds me of my situation growing up. I started referring to Louise by her first name when I decided she was no longer worthy of the title ‘Mother.’ I… I don’t want that ever to be the case with my child.”

Sawyer wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him tight. "It won’t be because you are an amazing dad. And I'm sorry, babe. I thought it was kind of cute and figured it was just a phase. I didn't realize it bothered you this much, but I get it.”

“Thank you.”

“I'm home with him tomorrow. I'll try to talk to him and help him understand," she offered.

Peering through the open door, Ethan nodded, his bear cub already fast asleep.

Sliding a hand under his T-shirt and up his chest, she said, "Come on, Daddy. Take your other baby to bed," Sawyer winked.

😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

“Are you ready to make a present for Daddy's special day tomorrow?” Sawyer asked, spreading out the craft supplies.

"I want to draw picture."

"He'll love that," she said, passing the paper and crayons. "Hey, I have a question. Do you know why I call you 'sweetie' sometimes?"

He shook his head.

"It's because I think you are soooo cute, and I love you soooo much," she leaned over and squished a big kiss to his baby-soft cheek.

"I lub you, Mama."

"Aw, thank you,” she held her hand to her heart. “Do you know why I call Daddy 'babe' sometimes? It's because I think he's cute too, and I love him a lot. Like this much..." She spread her arms open wide.

"I lub him too! Dis big," he mimicked his mom with outstretched arms.

"Did you know that when you call him ‘Daddy,’ he feels all that love?"

"Uh-huh. Mama? When E-tan come home and play with me?"

Sawyer chuckled in defeat. She tried and will have to try again later.

😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚

Shortly before bedtime, Sawyer received a text from Ethan. A pileup on the freeway meant all hands on deck in the E.R. and that Daddy would be tied up at work for several more hours. The chaos in the E.R. is a walk in the park compared to the bedlam Sawyer was about to experience putting her daddy’s boy to bed.

"Cuddle with Daddy!" he cried. "No! I want Daddy!"

"I know, sweetie. Daddy got stuck at work helping people with boo-boos.” Finally, caving, “Do you want to sleep with me until Daddy gets home?"

He nodded his head affirmatively, instantly calming down. 

Sawyer kissed each cheek as she tucked her son into the middle of the king-size bed. "I promise you can cuddle with Daddy when you wake up in the morning. It's his special day, remember?” With a conspiring tone, Sawyer shared the plan for the next day. “We'll sneak attack Daddy with kisses, and then you can surprise him with your picture, okay?"

It was after midnight when Ethan finally arrived home. He peeked into his son's room, which was empty, so he continued on to the master bedroom, where he found a picture-worthy scene. Sawyer was asleep on her back. A small human clung to her tightly, as if its life depended on it, with one arm around her neck and a leg draped across her stomach.

After a quick shower, Ethan changed into his pajamas. He gently extricated his son out of bed and into his arms, trying not to wake him or his mother.

"Hi," Sawyer spoke softly, stirred awake from the movement. "I was going to put him back in his own bed once he fell asleep, but I must have dozed off.”

"It’s okay. I'll take him," Ethan said, holding the slumbering babe against his shoulder. "I need my cuddles."

“He was really missing you tonight."

😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴

The next morning, Sawyer woke early to make coffee and start breakfast. Hearing the wrestling of sheets through the baby monitor, she went to coordinate with her co-conspirator.

"Gooood morrrrrning," Sawyer sang quietly as she knelt at the side of the Goldilocks-sized bed. As she tamed his bedhead, "What do you think? Is it time to attack the Tickle Monster?"

"Yes!" 

Sawyer led them down the hall. Holding a finger to her lips, she playfully reminded him to be quiet as they tiptoed into the large bedroom. After a helpful boost onto her side of the bed, they crawled like cats to Ethan's side, ready to pounce.

"Get ready," she whispered. 

After rolling Ethan onto his back, Sawyer straddled his waist and held his hands at his sides.

"Huh," he responded groggily.

"Okay, now. It’s a slobber attack!" she declared.

The excited tot leaned over and placed wet smooches all over his dad’s face.

"Who dares to wake the Tickle Monster," a deep, hoarse voice bellowed out. Breaking free from Sawyer's hold, Ethan sat up and caged the intruder. "Looks like I have a prisoner," he said, tickling his son's ribs until high-pitched laughter filled the room.

As Ethan paused to let the captive catch his breath, Sawyer took advantage and leaned forward. Landing a quick but tender kiss on his lips, "Morning, babe. Happy Father's Day." 

Climbing off the bed, Sawyer grabbed the artwork that had been drawn the day before.

"Sweetie, do you want to give the Tickle Monster his present?"

Taking the piece of paper from his mom, the youngster handed it to Ethan and settled into his lap.

"Oh wow. What do we have here?"

A little finger pointed to each scribbled blob as an enthusiastic voice explained, "Dis is me. And dat Mama. And dis is you!"

"I love it. Thank you.” Ethan kissed the top of his head. “I love you, buddy.”

"I lub you, Daddy. Dis big," he stretched his arms out.

Ethan cradled his son into a hug and looked up at Sawyer. She was smiling ear to ear as she mouthed, "Daddy." Ethan responded with a smile of his own.

"All right, boys. I'm going to finish making Daddy's special pancake breakfast," she said as she left.

"Rookie?" Ethan called, causing her to look over her shoulder, "Thank you."

“Pancakes?” Wiggling free from his dad’s hold, their pride and joy slid down the side of the bed. "Wait for me, Ookie! I help."

Facepalming, Sawyer shook her head with a smile and then looked back at her laughing husband. “Babe, I think we officially have a Threenager.” 

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @potionsprefect @jamespotterthefirst @annfg8 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @jerzwriter @quixoticdreamer16 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @inlocusmads @txemrn @trappedinfanfiction @mvalentine @takemyopenheart @ofmischiefandmedicine @openheartforeverinmyheart @doriopenheart @coffeeheartaddict2 @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble @hopelessromantic1352 @kyra75 @lsvdw-blog @rookiemartin

[readychilledwine]

The Conjuring

Summary - You knew heading into the woods with Lucien this late would be a mistake, you two just did not realize how big of one.

Warnings - mentions of blood, verbal and physical abuse/attacks, poisoning, forced shadow and trauma work

A/N - The devil works hard. A writer behind schedule works harder. Or cries. Or both. I changed this one a lot. It was originally just a very spooky haunted house that led to the reader being forever trapped there. One - hated the angsty ending Two - This idea came, and I was like, "Huh... yeah." It's a little less Lucien x reader expressed as romantically as I normally do with couple pairings, but once you read along, I think you'll all see why Lulu in reader's.... state was less important than who shows up. I tried to turn this concept into a deeper meaning, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do 💜

**italicized text indicates the reader's state of mind instead of reality**

You and Lucien stared at the ran down cabin. You both could feel something from it, but you were not sure what.

"Let's just go back, Lu." You tried taking his hand and pulling him.

"Y/n, it's a 45-minute walk, it is storming outside, and, in case you haven't noticed, you are still bleeding from the Naga attack. We need to treat it immediately."

Lucien pulled you toward the cabin, pushing the door open and pausing as the scent of dust and damp hit you both. "This place has been empty for years," you whispered. 

Lucien just nodded, searching for anything he could use to start a fire. "I have explored these woods for years now and never found this place before," the admission was filled with doubt. He paused as he removed a dusty trap, finding a stack of wood underneath it. "Odd."

You sat on the floor, blood loss finally causing lightheadedness to set in, "Lu-"

Lucien set you on the table, panicking as he checked over the stomach and leg wound. 

Tamlin moved to his side, placing a hand over your forehead. "She's burning up. What the hell happened out there?"

Lucien shook his head, pulling medical supplies out of the cabinets. "Rhysand and fucking Naga. The blight sent them. We were caught off guard."

Lucien carried you to the couch, laying you back. "You're really pretty, you know that? I don't miss that damned mask at all. It hid your cheekbones."

He shook his head, blushing slightly and ignoring the compliment despite the small smile that formed. "Poison must be setting in, my lady."

You shook your head as he put a paste on your leg. You found yourself staring towards the corner of the room, eyes locked on a shadowy figure there. You blinked quickly, hoping to clear the brain fog where it once stood and found the corner empty. 

Lucien followed your gaze. "There's nothing there, lovely. I promise."

And he was right, because she was now standing over you. 

Tamlin held your shoulders down, "Lucien," he growled out. His nose was bleeding from a well placed palm strike that had come from a screaming fit before you started thrashing. 

Feyre was now there too, holding your legs as still as she could with her human strength. 

"I do not understand. This should be working." Lucien looked at the medical paste again, smelling it. "I grabbed the right one. It should be drawing the poison out."

Her black eyes were soulless, staring into yours as she smirked over you. Long stringy black hair fell to near her hips. Her grayed skin was hallowed, as if she had been dead for years. "You will not leave this cabin alive, y/n," her hand went over your mouth, preventing you from screaming while Lucien tended to the fire he had started. "Do not bother. He will not be here much longer." Her voice was cold, eerie, and cracking, as if she had not spoken for years, for a lifetime. 

Lucien came back to you just as she disappeared. He paused, "Did you have 3 scratch marks on your cheek this whole time?" He turned your chin gently, checking over the marking. "That is not from a Naga. Do you remember when that happened?" 

"No," you liked with a shaking breath. "Are you sure we can not just go back?"

Lucien looked towards the window where the storm had increased. Lightning was striking frequently, the winds were howling, bending anything that it could in its path, and rain was pouring down as if someone had conjured the ocean into the skies. 

He turned back towards you. "I am sorry, y/n. I know you would prefer our bed." 

You just nodded, pulling your lip between your teeth. "I do not think we are alone here, Lucien."

"I know, " the heir sighed heavily. "Just ignore it, lovely." He began, healing the wound on your leg. "When I was little, my mother used to-" Lucien paused, looking towards the doorway. "Yeah. We need to leave." 

Lucien moved to help you stand, supporting you by the waist as he went to the door. He grabbed the handle and quickly ripped his hand back, hissing in pain. "We are fucking trapped," he said shaking his hand. 

You felt a hand, brush your hair over your shoulder, exposing your neck to a grip that felt like ice itself was on your skin. "Mainly just you," that dark feminine voice purred. 

Alys switched the rag on your forehead to a cooler one as she helped hold your upper body still. You were whispering to yourself, muttering in a language spoken only in the Night Court. 

Feyre had switched places with Tamlin, the High Lord now holding your legs down as Lucien used ointment after ointment hoping to stop the poison from spreading. She moved your hair with a shaking hand, tucking it behind your pointed ear. "Is there a specific poison they could have used?" 

Tamlin sighed. "The only thing I can think of, Rhysand would not have risked exposing her to. He may not be thrilled about the bond between her and Lucien, but he would not risk her."

Lucien suddenly paused. "Tam, she dealt with the Naga. I was dealing with him. He did not even know she was out there until we heard her scream."

The High lord closed his eyes, hanging his head. "Did he say anything to you? Mention anything?" 

You were on the ground, fighting something you knew was not fae, screaming for Lucien, who had disappeared into thin air. 

You tugged the bond constantly, praying for an answer as this being's cold hand and sharp nails scratched and choked you. 

You finally managed to kick her off. You scrambled to your feet, running to the kitchen area and grabbing the backdoor pounding on it as the handle disappeared before running to the hall. 

Each door you approached slammed as you neared it, shaking the beaten down shelter. 

Only one remained open. A door with a staircase leading down into further blackness into further cold. You took the chance, running down those stairs as an angry scream froze your blood. 

Feyre helped Tamlin stand. "Nice kick," he muttered angrily. "Think Lucien did he say anything to you after hearing her scream. Was there anything near her body?"

You had begun fighting again, trying to get up despite your mate holding the bond tight after each tug and whispering gently in your ear.

Lucien squeezed his eyes shut, rattling his brain for anything Rhysand may have said. "There was a bottle next to her, it had a dark brownish black liquid in it, but not even for me to even try to identify it. Rhysand did not follow me to her, an attor had shown up."

"Hemlock poison potion," Alys began looking through the room. "I do not believe we have an antidote anymore." She continued searching the cabinets.

Y/n, a familiar voice purred into your mind, come to me.

You followed it through the dark, jumping at every footstep, every scurrying rat, every creak from the wind. You could barely see, you could reach into your powers, you couldn't feel the bind anymore. 

"Y/n," the male voice called again, spoken this time, "You have to come to me. Faster, little moonbeam." You followed the echoing voice, picking up your speed as you moved, and it grew closer.

You ran into a cold body, faelights suddenly appearing. "Run, y/n. Run!" His voice was yelling for you now. No longer gentle or kind. 

But you were paralyzed there, staring into lifeless deep blue eyes flecked with starlight. 

You felt your breath hitching as you looked up at the male, the male whose throat was slit to the bone. The male whose hands were the first to cause you harm. The tall fae male grabbed your upper arms, slamming you against the wall. 

Suddenly, the dark-haired female appeared, her skin suddenly clearer, her eyes now that same shade. Realization hit you slowly. She was you. The you that this male had trained you to be. The pretty little trophy weapon he could use to kill anything in his path.

"Such a disappointment," the drawing purr said. "Selling your soul to the 7th in line. Selling your heart to a banished traitor with no station. You should be ashamed and embarrassed. "

That softer deep voice came again, "Y/n, darling, run! Find me. Run!"

You had taken off, attacking Tamlin and Lucien with those last few drops of magic before running into the dark woods.

Tamlin had shifted, also lending the power to Lucien so he could help search for you by smell. 

It was raining heavily still, the trees were creaking loudly with the wind. Tamlin paused, catching the familiar faint scent of citrus and sea that had mixed with a florally musk. Lucien caught it, too, following it instantly. 

He shifted back to his fae form, eyes locked on the ripped fabric soaked in your blood. He put it near Tamlin, and the High lord sniffed it, locking in on your scent instead of Rhysand's.

Lavender and rain, they both kept saying to themselves. Lavender and rain.

"Help me," you gripped the soft black lapels of a jacket. "Please help me."

Warm hands pulled you tight into a tattooed chest. His body was warm, despite his poor health, and you snuggled into it. "Help me." You pleaded again. 

"You know what you were exposed to. You know what you have to do before the antidote will actually work. I will be right here, little moonbeam." Rhysand tilted your face up to look at him, wiping the heavy tears from your cheeks. "You have to face him and the ghost of who you believe you were meant to be."

You shook your hand, "I'm scared." 

"We all are when we are faced with our ghosts, dear sister. We are all just haunted houses until a blessing brings us to light. You are yours." Rhysand kissed your forehead. "I will be right here. Right behind you. Lucien is almost with your physical body. I'll stay until with him and you it's safe to give you the cure."

He turned you back to the doorway where your Father stood leaning now. "Ah, there you are, little failure." He stalked towards you. "Does it haunt you every night? Does it haunt you that you prevented me from saving your mother, your sister?"

Rhys squeezed your upper arms as the house creaked with the turn of your emotions, further proving his statement that this damp, broken, and haunted cabin was your mind. Further proving you were the only one who could save you from this. "I had nothing to do with your choice to stay." 

He scoffed loudly. "Didn't you?" He moved towards you, grabbing you from Rhysand and gripping your arms so tightly his permanently taloned nails dug into them, "did you not earn that beating?"

You shook your head, Rhysand's hand reaching yours in support. "I had done nothing wrong."

The female was in the room again, looking towards your father in absolute terror. She was looking at him the way you always had. Like he was a demon conjured from magic, a witch had ripped from the Dark Mother herself.

Lucien slid next to you and Rhysand, cradling your head into his lap. "What is happening?"

Rhysand's jaw twitched. "Amarantha evidently gave her beasts Hemlock Poison Potion. She's trapped in the darkest parts of her own mind." His eyes were distant. "Keep talking to her, Little Lucien. She needs us."

Tamlin appeared in the clearing shifting to his human form, "Do you have an antidote?" Rhys shook his head. "What can we do?" 

"Be here. All we can do is be here."

"It was your job to protect me," your voice broke as another piece of the female behind him shattered. "You were supposed to love, shelter, and protect me, and you wanted to turn me into a monster."

Your father smirked, leaning into you with a breath that smelt of earth, death, and decay, "You are a monster, my little failure." His claw-like nails scratched your cheek as he moved your hair. "You will always be a monster, a failure, a disappointment." 

"I am none of those things," the female behind him gripped her chest, falling to her knees. "I am intelligent, cunning, charming, and kind." You watched as the female's breath became irradic and pointed to her, "That creature is not and has not even been me. Regardless of the beatings and cruel words, you did not turn me into her. Your failure is standing behind you, and it was made by no one but you." You watched as she leaned her hands to the ground, whispering tp herself as she began to turn into obsidian mist. 

"I will not allow you to beat me mentally anymore. You are in a grave, Father. You should stay in it." His face fell as he stepped back, and Rhysand stepped between you two. "I am not yours anymore. Leave."

Your brother shielded you from the burning light. Before turning to you. "You just have to wake up now, little moonbeam."

You shook your head, hugging him tightly. "But you'll be gone." 

He leaned in, kissing your forehead. "Evidently this is the final piece, actually." He then placed a hand on your ribcage, "I'm right here. All of us are right here. Cass, Az, Amren, Mor. You finding your mate in Lucien never changed that, and some day we will all be together again. I promise, sister. I will bring you home."

You shot awake, holding your hands to your chest as you sobbed heavily. Lucien pulled you into his chest, rocking you back and forth as he threw a potion bottle to the ground, allowing the liquid to disappear into a shimmering white Mist. "Lu-"

"Shhhh," he stroked your soaking hair. "It's okay, y/n. It was just a bad dream."

"It felt so real," you wrapped your arms around his neck. "I was so scared."

Tamlin knelt down next to you, placing a hand on your back to comfort you along with your mate. Lucien kissed you softly, "You are safe. You are loved. You are protected. It was just a dream."

"Just a dream," you said back. Staring towards where a black jacketed male leaned against a tree. His unhealthily pale skin almost glowing in the moonlight.

"Just a dream," him and Tamlin confirmed.

[philcoulsonismyhero]

Self-indulgent gay crime thriller for the wip meme

Ah yes, my beloved Detective Thing(TM) that I really need to properly title...

I've talked about this one before, and it's basically the result of two lines of thought, number one being: 'I know this crime drama is from the early 2000s and thus is Not going to have queer people in it but Please can I just have one (1) queer hero in this genre? For once? For me?' There's something about the genre conventions of older crime dramas that I just enjoy, but it is Exhausting in that particular regard and I started contemplating the idea of Doing It Myself.

And the other slightly less serious one coming from the fact that I got back into Kingsman while I was also on a Silent Witness kick and had the thought 'isn't it funny how many of my favourite characters are called Harry? Oh no, hang on a minute, I think Harry Hart is exactly the type that Harry Cunningham would have an enormous hopeless crush on...' (Harry Cunningham isn't technically canon bi, but. He is. He just is.)

So I rattled those two characters around in my brain a bit until the serial numbers came off and suddenly a whole story had built itself around the resulting characters, initially referred to in my outline as Doctor and Detective. (And I'm not very interested in writing active romance plotlines, so they became an established couple instead.)

The resulting thing has been snowballing in my brain, picking up complexity and structure and other characters and Themes, and now it's the story of George Glen, detective chief inspector in London's Metropolitan Police in 2005 and closeted gay man who lives with his partner, forensic pathologist Dr Tim Kingswood, who he frequently works with on cases with none of his colleagues being any the wiser as to their actual relationship. George, working with his brilliant Detective Sergeant Naomi Edusei and Tim as the designated pathologist, ends up lead detective on a complicated murder case that slowly develops into a serial killer investigation. But things get more complicated as certain elements of the case start to feel a little close to home for George, who's keeping rather more secrets than just his orientation and home life, and eventually the finger of suspicion starts to drift in his direction...

I love this story, it's basically me having a go at doing Silent Witness, Criminal Minds and various other crime thrillers all at once, and I'm extremely fond of George as a protagonist. Here's a bit I think you'll enjoy, featuring George and Tim's cat, named The Usual Suspect for his habit of doing Cat Crimes:

George stared at the file, lost in memory, until he heard a soft scrabbling at the door. He sighed.  “Go away, Suspect,” he said, softly. “I'm working.” But, unsurprisingly, the cat ignored him and kept scrabbling. George rolled his eyes and pushed his chair back. “If you leave scratch marks on that door, cat, you and I are going to have a conversation that you won't enjoy.” He got up, crossed to the office door, and opened it a crack, balancing on one foot so he could hold the other in front of the gap to stop the cat from getting in.  The Usual Suspect stopped scraping his paws on the door like he was trying to dig through it and looked up at George with his ridiculous lamp-like eyes. “Go and sleep on Tim,” said George, still keeping his voice low because of the late hour. “I'm working.” But the cat just meowed back at him and kept staring. “Oh, alright,” said George, giving in. He moved his foot, and quick as a flash Suspect had slid past his ankles and into the room.  George crossed back to his desk and sat down, and Suspect immediately jumped up into his lap, purring like a lawnmower. George laughed slightly, unable to keep pretending he was cross with him. “You are such an attention hog,” he said, scratching the cat's ears as he rubbed his little head against his hand. “How am I supposed to get anything done with you around, hm? I could charge you with obstructing a criminal investigation.” Scooting his chair back in slightly, although not enough to squash Suspect up against the desk, George went one-handedly back to the files, keeping the other hand occupying the cat. Maybe it would be nice to have some furry company as he navigated the darker corners of memory lane. 

(Technically this thing is probably going to be a comic rather than a novel, but I've been writing bits in prose just to get a handle on character voices and such, and because I'm more familiar with prose than script format. But it exists in my head as a visual thing and I can't make a TV miniseries so comic it probably is.)

[pockcock]

gift wrapper // jason newsted x reader 1.2

read it on ao3. content: detective!jason newsted. detective!reader. police!au. slow burn. warnings: minors dni. other additional tags to be added. murder mystery. blood and gore. body horror. strangers to lovers. eventual smut. ptsd. gunshot wounds. plot armor. non-con elements. idiots in love. panic attacks. medical inaccuracies. inaccurate police procedures. thriller. mutual pining. the author has adhd.

January 31, 2011, Monday, 09:47 AM 

“Alright, I’ll stop by when they arrive.” Newsted had his phone between his shoulder and ear, driving to the scene. “What? No, I’m driving there now.”

You two had taken Newsted’s car to the scene, it was a gray Ford CV; very classic, very basic. It smelled manly with a hint of cigarettes, he must’ve been an occasional smoker. Aside from some pebbles here and there on the floor mats, the car was fairly clean. KISS was blasting through the speakers, a B-side track filling the atmosphere. There was an air freshener shaped like a pine tree hanging from the rearview mirror alongside a small orange collar with a charm that said ‘Georgie’.

“Yeah. Okay, I’ll ask him, don’t worry.” After hanging up, Newsted turned to you and muttered a silent ‘sorry’. “Kirk, our ME,” he explained. “He found some sort of thread or whatever stuck to the girl’s neck. Wanted me to ask Lars about it.”

“He found anything else?” you asked.

“Some scratches here and there but not much,” his face scrunched up. “He’s still waiting for the lab results.”

You nodded and pointed to the collar. “So you have a cat?” You wanted to get to know him before indulging yourself with the case. He was supposed to be your partner after all. “Georgie?”

“Nope, it’s a dog!” He smiled, it was a bittersweet one that didn’t reach his silver eyes. “I lost him a couple of years ago while solving my first case here in Seattle.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” you replied.

He thanked you with a low voice, eyes fixated on the road but filled with agony. Losing Georgie must’ve taken a toll on him. “He was old anyways, but, you know,” he took a left turn. “It hurt.”

“It must’ve been hard,” you said. “I have a cat, I can’t imagine losing her.” 

“Oh!” his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You didn’t strike me as a cat person.” 

“Why? Because I’m a cop?” You cocked an eyebrow with a smirk. 

His eyes flitted towards your face for a brief second. “You’re saying cops can’t have cats?” Teasing back, I see.

“Back in Boston, a lot of them had dogs,” you explained. “I found Coffee in an abandoned building, there was an overdose case. Everyone was surprised when I took her with me.”

“What was her name, you said?” Newsted furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Coffee.”

He cracked a laugh, scrunching his nose. “What?”

“What?” you exclaimed. “She had this condensed milk-colored fur when she was a kitten. Then she grew up and now, she has more of a brown to her. So I named her Coffee.”

His laugh was contagious. He laughed like a kid who heard a fart joke for the first time, you thought as you two got lost in a laughing frenzy. It was sweet and rich with his head thrown back and eyes squinted so tight, his dimples were mesmerizing. He made your cheek hurt. You wondered if he ever sprained his neck with how hard he threw his head back laughing.

“Condensed milk?!” He shook his head as if to gather his composure, and took the right lane to the dock. “That’s silly!” 

The dock was full of people left and right; crime scene investigators wearing white jumpsuits taking samples from the dock floor behind the yellow tape, police officers interviewing possible witnesses, some curious boat owners, passersby, and the morning patrol watching the whole scene as it unfolded. It wasn’t something you weren’t used to. 

“Do you have any gloves?” you asked when he killed the engine, he pointed at the glovebox. You found the box of gloves sitting next to a pack of Winston in there. “Thanks. Want a pair?”

He leaned into the backseat and came back with a coat. “I don't think we’ll be needing them.”

Newsted had his hands in the pockets of his coat as he walked towards the dock, relaxed and professional. You followed him like a tail, trusting him enough to not get any gloves. You two stopped right at the edge of the yellow tape. He greeted the investigators by name, then introduced you. You offered a smile. They smiled back, genuine and warm. They seemed kinder than the Boston crew, you compared. 

“Is Ulrich here?” After wishing the crew a good day you looked around to find someone who resembled a detective and took the Marlboro pack from your pocket. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Not at all.” He jerked his chin towards the short guy. He was wearing a black leather jacket with black slacks. He had round sunglasses and his earlobes were covered in piercings. His short, light brown hair, from what you could see, had started thinning around his forehead. There was a notepad in his hands, he scribbled something as the man spoke. “There, he’s taking witness statements.”

“Black jacket and glasses?” you asked, setting the poison alight and inhaling. Ulrich seemed to have noticed you as he waved a hand toward Newsted and he lifted a hand back.

He nodded. “Mind if I have some?”

You shrugged and passed it. “Is he a detective?”

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled. The cherry burned red as he inhaled, deep and slow. He held the smoke in his lungs before releasing it to the sky with his head tilted back and eyes squinted shut. “Ew,” He furrowed his brows and gave it back. “It tastes like shit.”

“It’s cigarette,” you took it before filling your lungs with smoke again, your eyes still on Ulrich. “It won’t taste good.”

As you were stomping on the finished butt, Ulrich came running. “Jason!” He bumped his fist into Newsted’s ringed one and Newsted wrapped his arm around the short man. Even through his glasses, you could see Ulrich’s eyes close with content for a brief moment. “Finally decided to show up, huh?”

“Shut up,” Newsted snickered as he released Ulrich and you saw his nipple piercings through the tank top he wore under his jacket. “How is Denmark?”

“Same old, same old. Pops said hi,” Ulrich sniffed then he turned to you, looking from behind his glasses, he shifted on his feet. His pupils were dilated and his whites were blood red. “And you are?”

“Detective Hunter.” You offered your hand but instead of shaking it, he popped a piece of gum into his mouth, sniffing a couple of times. Your hand stayed in the air, hanging, until he put the gum pack back in his pocket.

“Ulrich.” 

“Pleasure.” You offered him a forced smile. “What do we have here?”

Ulrich opened his notepad. “Holly Nelson, 22, female. Her ID and phone were in the box, so,” he scoffed and sniffed. “Thanks fucking God.”

“Patrol said anything?”

He pointed towards the dock. “One of the guys found the box around 5:50 am and opened it. We’ll find his fingerprints on the lid.”

Newsted took the pack of gum from his pocket. “Any witnesses?”

“Nah—Don’t steal!” Ulrich scolded. He was spinning the pen in his hand as he spoke, twisting, tapping it across the paper, and jumping it in his fingers occasionally. “CSI found a footprint on the dock, but,” He hissed through his teeth. “I don’t think it belongs to anyone real. My guy Sam over there, he told me there are a bunch of homeless fuckers around here.”

Newsted looked away for a second. “We need to take their statements too.”

“Yeah, well,” Ulrich popped a bubble and rubbed his nose. “A couple of cigarettes would help, y’know?”

Newsted snickered. “Yeah, I’ll give you some.”

The two kept talking as you stayed silent to observe Ulrich even further. He was talking fast and honey-thick with his accent, constantly fidgeting around and sniffing. He wasn’t as calm as Newsted or uptight like Beckett which made you lift your brows in surprise. You weren’t familiar with people like him working for homicide. Though Boston had them, they were mostly narcs hanging out on their own, some undercover some not. Never in homicide. 

“What about the parents? Siblings?” you interrupted. “Anything from them?

“Mom is a teacher at Seattle High, daddy dead, no sibling,” said Ulrich with a casual tone like it was just another Monday. Like a girl didn’t just die. He took off his glasses before proceeding to talk. “He died a couple of days after her second birthday.”

“Any lover? Someone from the past?”

“I tried her phone but these new ones have fucking locks!” He grimaced. “We got nothing until the IT cracks it open.”

“Does the mom know?” Newsted asked, his arms curled in front of his chest. 

“I don’t know,” Ulrich shrugged. “I called the school before coming here. She’s there till 3 PM.”

“Did you talk to her?”

Ulrich exhaled a bubble and popped it. “She was in class when I called the school, I spoke to the secretary or some shit.”

“So what do we know exactly?” you exhaled loudly. “Just a box and what? A fucking footprint?”

Ulrich cocked an eyebrow, he let your words hang in the air for a while before saying. “Look, I don’t know how you guys dealt with shit in Boston,” he pointed a finger. “But we can’t magically create evidence here.”

Your brows were drawn together, scoffing. “Magic? What the hell are you–”

He cut you off curtly. “We have a box, a head, and a footprint.” His tongue was darting at his cheek and he had lifted one of his brows, smirking. “If you need more,” he poked your shoulder. “Go search them yourself.”

“Okay! Why don’t you-” Newsted interrupted before the situation escalated further by taking the cigarette pack out of your jacket. His eyes were filled with annoyance and worry. “You go and talk to the people around, bribe some with this,” he gave it to Ulrich. “And we go speak with her mom? Okay?”

Ulrich stood silent with the pack sitting in his hands for a moment, weighing his options. His eyes never left yours. He then took one out and placed it between his lips before putting the pack in his pocket and taking a lighter. “Alright.”

“Yeah?” Newsted asked again as if to confirm it even more.

“Sure!” He lit it up and took a drag. “I’ll deal with the local shits and you go-” He waved his hand, shooing you away. “Talk to the mom. Show her how to do things here.”

Your jaw clenched as you took a step towards Ulrich. He just snickered and took a drag of your cigarette.

“Hunter,” Newsted pleaded, placing a soft hand on your back, urging you. “Let’s go.”

You felt Lars’ eyes digging into your back as you walked towards Newsted’s car. Right before getting in, you looked at him one last time, hoping to pierce through his stupid head with your eyes. Much to your disappointment, he returned your gaze with a salute, the cigarette still burning between his fingers.

Asshole.

[olderjodijournals]

Wednesday, June 1, 2005

Patty really makes me want to strangle her at times. Better yet, she makes me want to take a bat to that damn dog of hers! After I got up at 2 PM and was trying to wake up in peace with my coffee, I could hear the dog barking by the back door to be let out while she had her usual weekday visitor. The dog came barking out. A few minutes later it gave one bark as if to say, “Okay, I’m done. Let me in now.” When no one came to the door, it took a fit. So did I. I stomped madly and swore in the utility area, so that maybe – maybe – she’ll get the hint and start supervising the damn thing more! I’m getting sick of this throw-the-dog-out-back-and-forget-about-it trip she’s been on. She’s not the only one who lives here.

Why must I always get neighbors with something going on with them? There’s always something – noisy kids, barking dogs, blaring music, etc. Why can’t we ever get with someone as quiet as us?

We’re still not sure if she put the dog out yesterday because she took off and maybe thought she’d be gone longer than she was, or what, but we’ll do whatever we need to do if it gets worse. I used to hear it every few days, but it’s been escalating lately. A part of me wishes it was cold and snowy. Maybe then she wouldn’t leave the damn thing outside. But that would also cost us nearly $200 more a month and hinder us from getting out of here. Since I don’t expect to win enough money, if any at all, to get us out of Oregon this year, we’re just going to have to settle for a year’s lease in a house, but that’d sure beat staying here another year, which would be plenty of time to save up enough to get out of state comfortably. In the meantime, ah, to be detached and to have a yard all to ourselves, even if the next yard is still too close with a dog barking in it, and I know God will make sure I get next to little kids, barking dogs, blasting car stereos, or all of the above. It really sucks, this ongoing noise curse, even if it’s not nearly as bad as Phoenix or the NHA because we have enough of our own shit to deal with. We don’t need to deal with other people’s shit as well.

At least we’re not as broke as we were last fall! For a while there I seriously doubted we’d even survive those tough times. It was so stressful and depressing! We’re saving money while still having a life while we’re at it, despite what the neighbors sic on us. Tom’s been letting me have $30 a month for fun while he takes $10, mostly for scratch tickets, but this month I’m having him take all $40 for our anniversary and his birthday. I’m still trying to put off my teeth as long as I can till we’re at least out of this duplex. In a couple of months, we should be able to join one of the DVD clubs and get the upgraded radio version that’ll allow me unlimited song-skipping, unlimited usage, and no commercials. I’ll also sign up for a month of Webshots, but just a month. That way I can go back and get the premium pictures I’ve been missing. I figure there’s no sense in paying every month when I can just pay every 6-12 months and get what I’ve been missing.

Although not as bad as in Arizona, my allergies were acting up earlier, so I ended up taking a 3-hour nap after taking some Benadryl.

Later…

Today I got to wake up to next door going back and forth like crazy. They still are, though some of the banging I’m hearing could be car doors from across the street echoing between the duplexes.

Meanwhile, I’m still sweeping away but have yet to win anything.

With the way Mary used me, I can’t say I’m bummed that she quit writing, but I can say I’m bummed I didn’t hear from Marilyn. A thought crossed my mind about Mary. I still say it’s more likely a case of her giving me a taste of my own medicine since I won’t be her slave, but it could be that instead of going home around now, she’s really going to prison for a decade, and is too depressed or embarrassed to write. They’re really cracking down on wimpy mothers who don’t protect their kids. A woman just got sentenced to more than a decade for delivering a stillborn baby after cocaine was found in her system. I’ve been reading up on countless cases just like Mary’s where they’re going down for many years for failing to protect their kids. You just don’t allow someone to kill your kids these days and walk away after just 5 years.

I’ve been dieting for a week and a half, but have stopped losing weight. I immediately dropped from 130 to 125 in a few days, but I’ve been there ever since. I’m not surprised. I do hold my weight really well. There’s no way I’m going under the 1200-1300 calories I’ve been having. It’s just too hard. At least there’s no way I could gain this way and it’s saving us money. I’ve been stuck for two days and am due for my period, so this might be a factor in why I stopped losing, but I doubt it. I just don’t lose weight. Period. Not other than just a few pounds, that is.

Thursday, June 2, 2005

Today I got to wake up to someone’s stereo either on a side street in back or from inside next door’s place.

My weight still won’t budge, even though I’ve been stuck for a few days now. I haven’t been stuck this long since I took those anti-shit pills on the mountain when the lack of sleep was making me sick. It’s like my body simply does not want to lose weight. I go through this every time I try. Maybe someday I’ll learn that I’m not going to lose weight. If I were, I would’ve lost it by now. If my body holds its weight this easily, then it obviously needs it. If I keep up the low-cal diet it’ll only be because it saves money.

After nearly a month of sweeping, I haven’t won anything yet, though I’ll give it till we move. I don’t know why I don’t see a house here in Oregon when it’s so obvious that that’s where we’ll end up for a year, since I doubt we could get a 6-month lease. That’s okay, though, because we couldn’t save up in just 6 months anyway. As long as we’re not attached to anyone or have someone’s doors so close to us that come and go constantly, it’ll be okay, even though I’m not looking forward to another winter here. I know we’ll get barking, screaming and stereos, but at least we shouldn’t get all the other stuff and I can blast my music and have a little more privacy in a yard that belongs only to us.

I’ve been unable to keep the heat off at night for the last few nights. It’s either sunny and cool, or warm but cloudy.

Friday, June 3, 2005

For the millionth time, why can’t we get neighbors like us? Why do they all have to have some kind of annoying flaw(s)? Is anybody else as quiet as we are??? Next door has taken to banging. They fucking woke me up a couple of hours earlier than I planned on getting up, and Tom heard it while I was listening to music. He said he’s not positive it came from them, but the question is, is this going to become a regular habit? If it’s what I think it is, they’re going to drive me crazy. Crazy enough to swap rooms with Tom. I’m thinking that for some reason they may’ve gotten in the habit of locking their doors and are now knocking when they want to be let in. Either that or someone who lives nearby started visiting them by going into their backyard and knocking on their door. Tom thinks someone was hammering. Other than this banging thing they’ve started, I haven’t heard from them till now, their prime time. They’re out gabbing in the back, but I can’t hear them with the fan on. I’m just so glad they’re not as loud as blacks! Still, there’s nothing more frustrating than wanting to bass them out but knowing I can’t cuz we got Patty living with us. Besides, this isn’t Arizona where they’d simply go inside if they found it annoying. They’d run and complain to Pam.

Meanwhile, I’ve only heard the dog barking by the front door when she goes out to get something from her van or to water the yard. She just set up a sprinkler. First she did the back and now she’s working on the front. I’m sure I’ll hear the dog barking in back by Sunday. I never get to go more than a few days without hearing it, and she’s practically taken up residence in the backyard. And I thought Bev was out there a lot! What I wonder, though, is this: Has the dog barked while I was asleep and managed to sleep through it? Or has it just not happened to bark while I’ve been asleep?

I still don’t know why they need to see each other 50 times a day. What daughter would want to see her mother that often? Most would never want to live this close to their mothers. Especially when they’re young. If anything, they can’t wait to get out and on their own, away from their mothers. Like I said, God always has to make sure whoever’s closest to us does something annoying.

I wonder if the Sacramento people are like Arizonans who consider complaining a mortal sin, or if they’re like Oregon and MA where they’re quick to do so? If I had to choose, I’d hope they’d be like here because I’d like to be able to speak out about something that annoyed me without the risk of being jailed or killed for it, even if it meant I was more likely to be complained on for blasting my music.

I just hope rural Sacramento will at least be comparable to Maricopa, minus the sonic booms and hunters. That means we’ll get music and barking, but the barking won’t be loud like it was in Phoenix. I hope not, anyway. God knows how many people will come knocking on the door there too, but oh well. Hopefully, we’ll have a doorbell because then they’ll just ring that. If there’s no doorbell, though, they’ll knock on the door. I’ll also make sure the bells aren’t right outside wherever I sleep. Maybe, just maybe, we can fence at least the area around the house, but I won’t count on it. We couldn’t fence around Maricopa or on the mountain, but I’m glad we didn’t! It would’ve been such a waste and we lost enough money as it was.

I love it around here once we hit 10 PM. At that time Patty’s gone to bed and next door’s unlikely to be hanging out or going back and forth, so it’s nice and peaceful.

We have to remember to check the military base locations when we go to buy a place, and the hunting areas, too.

I hope they don’t have the your-land-is-my-land attitude that Arizona had. I didn’t think it was right for people to drive over other people’s land or to allow their animals to roam through it. They did this in Phoenix, too. I remember the Frisbee game Tom had to break up in our driveway, as well as the father who decided our driveway was a great place to teach his daughter to ride a bike. Oh, the stories we’ll have for years to tell others about Arizona!

They’re saying that by Monday we could be in for a high of only 52º and a low of 32º! I can’t wait to be back in a warm climate! After living in the desert for so many years, even 70º seems cold.

Saturday, June 4, 2005

They obviously aren’t locking up cuz I heard them play musical doors till 9:30. I need to improve my spells. I really do.

Here’s something pretty fucked up. They’re saying that by Monday we’ll only have a high of 52º and a low of 32º. So we’ll be freezing in June! This may make it more peaceful around here, but it’ll also jack up our electric bill.

If they reject my book, I may use one of the benefits that’d bring and maybe write a story set back in the 70s when Kate was doing Charlie’s Angels and have her have a relationship with some chick. So it’ll be a romance with the hot-looking bitch of Charlie’s Angels. I’ll have to use my imagination and throw in some surprises along the way, but I’ll mostly have her be nice at times and a bitch at other times so that just when you think she’s gonna stay nice, she goes and does something mean.

Sunday, June 5, 2005

It was cooler today, so it put a damper on next door’s hanging outside and going back and forth, but we had to hear from the dog twice. He heard a couple of yips that I managed to sleep through, then the thing took a fit after we got back from our walk. It was barking at someone in the house on the other side, then at something in back. Just when I was wondering if she was going to do something about it, she came out and got the damn thing. She’s just too damn lazy to stand outside with the beast.

We didn’t hear any banging, but I thought I heard what may’ve been someone knocking on Patty’s front door, then I heard a bang that was louder, but nothing that’d wake me up.

Tom feels that attempt number 3 to get into a house should be no problem. If he’s right, then we’re out of here in 119 days. We hope to stay in this neighborhood since it’s a nice one, but we’ll just have to see. As long as it isn’t connected to anybody, I’ll take it!

I know no bed is going to be a “magic cure” for us and make us interested in each other sexually, so when I finally do get a bed, I’m going to have to let Tom know that while research says couples should talk this out, I know sex isn’t something he likes to discuss, unlike every other guy in the world, and that rather than make him or myself be something we’re not, we should just forge ahead with the attitude that we’re going to continue on as friends. Or maybe we’re just not right for each other anymore. It’s just that I can’t imagine life without Tom the person. Tom the person is wonderful and so much fun to be with. Even I have to admit that giving him up wouldn’t be worth an occasional piece of ass. A woman is no more meant to be now than it was in the past, and it’d just kill me to give him up. I’d be losing so much more than I could ever gain. I’d miss him so terribly and I’d always wonder and worry about him. The thought of life without him is a very depressing thought, so maybe it really would be okay to leave things as they are. We’ve been doing just fine since before the sickos got me thrown in jail, so I don’t see why we can’t keep going as we have been. It suits us well, it’s what we’ve come to know, and it’s what we’re comfortable with.

Later…

Tom said it was so quiet today that he doesn’t even know if she’s over there. All I heard since getting up at 4:00 was next door slam back and forth a few times. Part of that is due to the weather. It just won’t stay warm. It’s almost like it’s fall again. Tomorrow’s supposed to be only 47º! I hate this state. If there’s one lesson I’ve learned in Oregon it’s to not assume any future dreams are impossible. I only assumed living in California was an impossible dream because just about all my other dreams were impossible. If anything, experience has taught me that if I want to go one way really bad, I should go the other way instead if I know what’s good for myself. Trying to undo what’s meant to be only gets me in trouble, as well as trying to make something be that can’t be.

I’ve decided how I’m going to handle his shit of a mother depending on what happens. If she cares enough to remember our anniversary and his birthday while my book gets rejected, she won’t hear from me at all. If she acknowledges our anniversary and his birthday and the book gets accepted, I’ll gently let her have it, probably by email. If she fails to send anything, whether or not the book makes it, I’ll blast the holy hell out of her via postal mail.

Monday, June 6, 2005

Here’s something that ought to prove just how small this town is. A coworker of his said they saw us walking on Saturday, then someone else saw him on his bike on Sunday when he went to do the laundry.

According to his birthday gadget, I let him get with the extra money, it’s 3.9 miles each way to work. He’s burning just over 400 calories, counting both ways. His average speed is 12 MPH.

I’m now down to 124 pounds. I now know for sure why I was not only putting back the few pounds I’d lost but why I wasn’t losing more than a few pounds in the first place. It’s simple. I was overeating on the weekends and not cutting my calories low enough on diet days. So now I’m free to lose as much as I’d like. The question is, how much do I want to lose? Not that I’d want to go as low as 90, but I could go that low and still fit into most of my tops, dresses, socks and some shorts, but all else would need to be replaced. Having been heavy for years, I didn’t think I’d ever be thin again so I threw out all my small-sized clothes. I still don’t know for sure that I’ll lose a significant amount of weight, but if I do, Tom says there’ll be money for new clothes. Except for bras and underwear (though I shouldn’t need bras as much if I can deflate these 38C titties), I can get clothes at thrift stores or department stores where they’re cheaper. I never felt the need for expensive designer clothes.

I’ve learned that if I can just get through the first 3-4 days when I start a diet, I’ll get used to it. The drop to 1000 calories from 1200, which I did two days ago, was easier than the drop from 2000 to 1200. The only sucky thing about it is that if I do lose weight, I can never have more than about 1200 if I want to maintain it.

Only one soft yip out back and that’s it for today. Of course, having gotten up at 5:00, who knows what barking and banging might’ve gone on throughout the day?

Tuesday, June 7, 2005

Still no wins. Hmm. This is making me wonder if it’s not meant to be. After all, people are winning up to a dozen things a month. They’re small wins, but they’re wins nonetheless.

Tom and I both think the book will get rejected because it could’ve been better. That’s the problem with writing; no matter how good of a book you write, someone’s always got a better one. Something like that hardly seems meant to be for someone like me anyway, but at least I gave it a couple of tries and won’t waste my time trying for years as I did with past goals/dreams that weren’t meant to be. I think I’ve been doing what I was meant to do in life – live a life without lust while I wish we could have more money and quieter neighbors.

Tom made room on my C drive which is small compared to my D drive. He also had to glue one of the reflectors back on his bike that fell off, and while we were at it, we reglued Falling Star’s wig which had come off.

The weather’s been miserable. It’s keeping things quieter, but it’s also keeping me cold and the electric bill higher. All the heaters have needed to run day and night lately. Tom said that although they didn’t stick, there were a few snow flurries around lunchtime. We’re only going to be in the low 60s for the next week. Meanwhile, MA is in the 80s. Even so, the only thing I miss back there, especially now, is the beach. I’m definitely looking forward to not putting myself out on account of others anymore. Meaning, just like Tom said he wouldn’t spite himself by dumping his BOA shirts, well, I’m not going to stay in a cold climate and shiver my ass off just because people can’t shut up in warmer climates. I’ll fan them out, play music, whatever it takes, as long as we don’t have freeloaders for neighbors.

Patty had her usual morning company. Someone with a silver car this time. I could hear the dog barking through the wall, but that was not as loud as when it was in back. I wonder how the hell she can stand to have so much company when all the dog does is bark at the people she has over.

We didn’t think people would have yard sales on such a busy street as this which you can’t park on (though you can park on side streets), so if they can do it, so can we. We’ll wait till we get closer to moving, though, and if summer could ever get here and stick around for a few months, that’d help, too. I’m sure Patty and even Mom and daughter would come check it out. I only heard them go slamming back and forth once, that’s how much colder it is. It was 33º this morning when he left for work.

Wednesday, June 8, 2005

Good news at Tom’s job – we hope! They’re talking about overtime starting next week, and extending into July. He doesn’t want to return to the 12-hour shifts, but he’d sure like to do 10s. That’d certainly help us get out of here.

If there was any barking or banging today, I slept through it. And without the earplug, too. It’d still be way nice if I could live somewhere where all I needed was either just the sound machine or just the fan when sleeping in the daytime, but as long as I have to live this close to others, it’s not going to happen.

Thursday, June 9, 2005

What’s weird about these sweep sites is that they have links to discussions that aren’t even related to the sweeps at all, like the one where everyone’s bitching about a woman being released from a funny farm after just 8 years for stabbing her young son over 100 times because she thought he had AIDS (and let me guess – God’s gonna make sure she’s pregnant again real soon!).

My monitor is trembling at times. God’s really determined to fuck with this computer seeing that we don’t own much else!

Patty had her usual morning company – the dark blue car and a fiery red pickup, but I heard no barking other than what came from inside her place.

Next door laughed back and forth a few times in the early evening, as usual. I heard a girl and a guy the last time around.

I’m on a roll with my current book Unusual Circumstances.

I can’t get used to 1000 calories a day, so I’m going to keep the weight and jump back up to 1200.

Saturday, June 11, 2005

I’m dying my hair brown/black right now. In 5 minutes I can rinse it out. They’ve gotten better at keeping it from stinking so bad. Let’s just hope

I covered it well and that it doesn’t fade too fast.

Patty’s dog just went off at the cats and she came out in her nightgown to fetch it. When is she going to realize that she can’t leave the fucking thing out there or else sooner or later it’ll find something to bark at?

We took our walk earlier and it was cold for starters. I can’t believe it’s mid-June!

Sunday, June 12, 2005

The dye faded a couple of shades after the initial washing, as usual, but that’s why I always get dye a little darker than I’d like. There are still some gray hairs showing, but that only makes it look more natural since even 20-year-olds have a few strands of gray here and there.

Barb, at the publishing company, emailed me to say they just verified that my book isn’t spam. Because I had no text in the body of the email I attached it to, it came up as spam. Meanwhile, she says they should have an answer for me in about 5 weeks. Either way, she’s still going to reject it. I know it’s not a bad story, but it’s like with the singing, I’m better than most, but not better than all.

Later…

Next door was out gabbing, but I don’t know why. It’s not that nice. It’s only in the low 50s.

All I heard so far from next door was a few bumps and bangs and just one soft bark. That’s usually a prelude to an all-out barking fit, but not this time. I still worry she’s going to leave the thing out there all day if it ever warms up for good. As it is, it’s getting a little Arizona-like. I could see that when we went on our walk yesterday. More dogs are decorating more yards. Anyway, if she does start leaving it out, I’ll just go over there and let her know that in case she hasn’t noticed yet, leaving the dog out for long periods of time, means more barking.

I’m so tired of having to deal with other people’s dogs, and I hate it when other people’s kids interfere with our plans, too! That’s the main reason I don’t want any kids. Tom went down to check out this new incense store he saw advertised in The Nickel, and it was closed due to graduation.

I’m not surprised I still haven’t heard from Mary and I know I never will. I should’ve trusted the part of me that said not to bother writing to her because I always did say she was using me and that most people aren’t what they say they are. In other words, her insisting she was big on playing kiss and make up was nothing but bullshit. At least I got some stamps and stamped envelopes out of our brief reunion. What is a bummer is that I never heard from Marilyn.

I decided not to bother losing more weight. I know I could, but I don’t want to because it’s simply too much hunger for too long of a time. All I’m going to do is maintain my weight and that can be enough of a task as it is. My main goal is to save money on groceries and keep fit, not lose weight.

Meanwhile, Doe and Art O should have a lot to discuss with Tammy B and vice versa. Unless their addresses are no longer current, they each got very similar and very long letters from me. I used Mary’s envelopes to mail them in and mailed them myself when Tom was at work last Tuesday. I walked up to the second cluster of mailboxes. That one has an outgoing mail slot. Ours doesn’t because the duplex is a two-in-one residence. I mailed them in secret, knowing how paranoid Tom gets. It’s not that he would try to stop me, even though he may say it was a waste of time, but I know he’d be like, do what you have to do.

In the return address area, I simply wrote my name and the town and state. I didn’t write with any desire to reunite at the moment, and I probably never will want to reunite with them because their money just isn’t worth it, although I did give them the impression that all was suddenly fine and that I would write regularly.

As for why I did it and what I said, well, since Mary was paying for it, I thought I’d play with them a bit and stretch the truth into a little BS, just in case there ever is an opportunity for me to get any money out of them. Meaning that if there’s some chance they didn’t cut me out of their will, though I’m pretty sure they did, I don’t want my last words to them to be as nasty as they were. What I did may help in the future, if there’s any hope of getting any money to begin with. What I mean by stretching the truth is that I told them we lost our house, which is true, but rather than say it was because they fired Tom for not being a religious freak, I said it was because the old neighbors terrorized us and caused us to have to enter the witness protection program. I know they know about jail and that we moved to Oregon because they always have to know what’s going on with us, but I gave the jail saga a happy ending. Never did I use any racial slurs, but I let them know I’ve come to hate blacks and Hispanics more than they ever could and told them what happened. The only part of it that was fabricated was the part about entering the program. I also said that we have an eBay store (we once did) and that I’m selling dolls and incense and was able to keep doing that along the way. I told them we had to leave most of our belongings behind which is true. I also told them about the pictures that got published and said that my book was accepted and that it’s being edited and typeset, again, partially true, though I doubt they’ll accept the book. I said that we’re no longer in touch with his mother because of the way she used us and doesn’t care about anyone but herself (true) and that she’s been instructed to tell people we moved out of state, and not mention us entering the program. Well, she certainly wouldn’t do that if they did call/write to ask her about it! I told them what I like/dislike about Oregon, versus Arizona, and that we have plans to move to Sacramento. I told them I always did love visiting California (true), and that we even met Kate Jackson when she was signing autographs at a convention center (maybe that will be true someday)! I told them I still have too much animosity towards Larry and that I did not write to him, and by now I’m sure he’s dumped them all for good anyway. I can’t think of anything else of significance that I mentioned, and I didn’t save the letter. Oh, I mentioned how some of the DOs liked me and that they made my life a little easier, etc. I explained that I couldn’t give them an address or a phone number until the people who framed me, as well as others, were caught (I told them I exposed them to the media).

See, the object was to get in touch with them in a way that they would like, but that wouldn’t require us to play nicey-nicey, and the only way I could think of was to fabricate the program story. Without it, they’d wonder why I wrote a seemingly nice letter and failed to give them any contact info.

The only other things I remember telling them were trivial things like that I still like to sing and have pet rats, etc.

I told them that we were driven up here by FBI agents and US Marshals, using the places we really did stop at; the miserably hot truck stop in Arizona, Barstow, Merced, and Willows. I also said we spent time camping on the mountain in an RV that the program provided, then we were in hotels, then a furnished duplex, mostly true stuff.

I don’t know if they’ll believe it, but it doesn’t matter. Especially if they do plan to leave any money, and that’s going to be a lot more likely with a letter like this than the last fuck-you letter I sent them when we first got to Maricopa.

Monday, June 13, 2005

I’m awaiting the Michael Jackson verdict, though being a rich famous black male, I’d say it’s rather obvious that he’ll get off just like they always do. If he doesn’t, he’ll be in a country club of a prison for 5 minutes and then the blacks will riot up a storm and we whites will have to be the ones to suffer again.

Will we get money from the queen, or will it get a nasty letter from me? Just a few days to go till we find that one out, though I’m going to wait and see what they say about my book before sending anything if she does fail to care to send us anything. It wouldn’t surprise me if she did blow us off. As I’ve said before, if you don’t care if your kids are homeless, why would you care about their birthdays or anniversaries?

I was going to wait till Paula decided to write, but then I said what the hell? I may as well send her a letter while I send one to Bob too, to see if he’s still alive. Next weekend I’ll be calling her.

Later…

Sure enough, another black walks. I’m sure he had an all-black jury, too. The whites ought to riot this time and beat the shit out of anything black that walks by. See, this is why I hate God and have absolutely zero faith in Him. What kind of a good God lets an obviously guilty child molester walk while I had to lose all kinds of freedom and money for exercising what I thought was my right to free speech against my own tormentors? It just makes me hate Him and the blacks of this world even more. Damn them all to hell! He’s going to really molest kids like crazy now. Especially since he knows he can get away with it. I think he always knew he could, but now he really knows it. The only way he might not have gotten off being as rich and as famous as he is would be if he were white, female or both. It’s so, so obvious he truly is guilty, too. Why would so many people accuse him if he weren’t? And of course his fans were cheering like crazy when he left the courthouse. I heard not one “boo” as he left, and I don’t know who’s crazier, him or his fans. And would the fans be so damn dedicated and loyal to him if he suddenly killed little boys right under their noses? I’m sure they would, and I’m sure he’d still get away with it, too. Tom thinks he walked cuz of money, and while I do believe that was a factor, I’m still pretty sure the root cause came down to race. It’s been this way since the 90s and God only knows how long it’ll continue to be. The blacks and the noise are the only two things I’m not looking forward to down in Sacramento, and while there may be more blacks there than in Arizona, hopefully it won’t be like Springfield had gotten to be. You couldn’t even walk down the deadest of streets there without seeing a black the last time I was there. By now there are probably more of them than whites.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Tom got to work overtime yesterday, so that’s $20 extra.

Patty got her usual morning company so Freckles got to get tossed out back. The fact that it was out there barely 3 hours after the first time it was out confirmed that she was getting it out of the way of the company. It gave a few barks, laid down for a minute on our patio, then as I figured it would, it barked a few minutes later to be let in because she was too lazy to stand at the door and wait for it. That’s okay, though. We’ll be out of here soon enough and she and her dog will be the memory that Bev and her grandanimals now are. We’ll still have to listen to shit wherever we rent a house, but we won’t be attached to anyone! In fact, the money’s doing so well that we may be able to move as soon as September rather than October or November.

His boss was all excited about Oregon being the next state quarter to be released that he gave everyone at work one. Tom said they were all making fun of him for making such a big deal of it. It is kind of strange.

Later…

That’s 4 times I had to hear the dog. Sometimes I want to run over there and say, “Enough is enough!” Now she’s got a second visitor. What is it with all this weekday company? I just don’t get it. Why do these people need to come and see her so often? She hardly seems that helpless or disabled (at least not from the neck down). She has no company on the weekends, which is weird. It’s always during the week. With most people, it’s the weekends that they have company. I wish she were like most people since there are more days during the week.

Anyway, the last two times I heard the dog was in front, though it’s getting old either way. I don’t usually hear the thing this much and if she could stop with the company, that’d really help. It’s the afternoon now, so she’ll probably take a break from the visitors soon enough. I hope the next person in here either has a dog of their own or doesn’t mind hearing it because I know whoever they are will be home all the time. Almost everyone in this area is. I just wish she’d quit with the company! If only she didn’t have that damn dog! She’d be close to the perfect neighbor, but you know that any neighbor of mine has to have some flaw.

Tom’s going to check out that new store called The Fragrant Flame this Saturday. Hopefully, the owners won’t have a death in the family or need to run to the hospital because their kid got in an accident or something.

Meanwhile, I feel like life is nothing but one big waiting game. Right now we’re waiting to move into a house. Then we’ll wait till we can move to Sacramento. Then we’ll wait till we can buy something. Then we’ll wait till we have the money to fix it up, and so on and so forth.

Either way, in about 80 days I’m never doing the house-sharing thing again! No more of this getting thrown back in time and into situations I thought I’d forever escaped! I’ll never live attached to anyone ever again even if they’re in a coma.

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Today marks our 11th anniversary and 1 year in the wrong state. At least we got out of Mexico!

We plan to go out to eat when he gets off work which could be after just 8 hours since they went and hired new people. That pretty much tells me he’s not going to get much more in the way of overtime, but hopefully, if they can afford to hire new people, they can afford to give him a decent raise once he hits the 1-year marker at the end of July.

Meanwhile, Patty’s taken to blasting the shit out of her TV. It’s not as loud as Bev’s stereo was in that it can only be heard in the living room and not throughout the entire place, but even if we do have just 79 more days to go here, that’s 79 days too many to listen to that for 6 hours a day, so as soon as it starts up, and I know it’s going to be a regular habit of hers, I’m going to go over there and have a little chat with her. And while I’m at it, I’m going to see if she wants first dibs on any of the knickknacks I plan to try to sell at the yard sale we’ll have.

The dog was barking up a storm in front just now and when I looked out, I saw a young woman standing in back of the van which had its hatch open. I was hoping that for this chick to be there so early that she was helping her prepare to go on a little vacation, but I couldn’t get that lucky. If she’s going to go away anytime, it won’t be while we’re still here.

I’m going to wait and let her have her usual slew of morning company, then I’ll go over there as soon as she cranks up the TV which should be around the mid-afternoon if she follows yesterday’s pattern.

I almost wish I were on nights again so I don’t have to listen to people’s shit around here. Why, why, why is it so damn important to whatever’s up there that I hear other people’s shit??? This noise curse is never going to be broken. Every single neighbor of mine since ’92 has had something going on with them that I’ve had to deal with. Every single one of them! Why don’t I just be noisy myself? Then I can at least deserve what I get from them.

Where did this chick come from so early in the morning anyway? I can’t see well past the van, but there doesn’t appear to be any other vehicle in her driveway but hers, so did she pick this chick up? Did the chick walk here? Is she perhaps staying with her and the one who went blasting the TV?

The van is still there, but now the hatch is closed and there are no people in sight.

It’s days like yesterday that make me think that Bev was the better housemate. Look how many times I’ve had to hear the dog as opposed to Bev’s grandanimals.

Later…

Now the van is gone and the pickup is here. Right on time, too. Next comes the dog, and after I have to listen to that, the pickup will leave around 11:00.

Later…

The pickup left an hour earlier than usual and I haven’t heard the dog in back or the TV yet. She didn’t start with the TV till around 3:00, so we’ll see how the rest of the day goes.

Meanwhile, I can’t wait for him to get home so we can go out to eat! If he’s going to get a couple of extra hours, though, it would have to be today. That way I’m made to wait even longer and we end up eating with the dinner crowd. At least the restaurants here don’t seem as bad as down in Arizona as far as unruly kids go. Every other time we ate out in Arizona we had to do it to the tune of screaming kids. At least there are not as many kids up here, though all it takes is one to ruin the occasion.

Later…

Well, I talked to Patty. I asked her if she got a new TV or something and she said a friend of hers adjusted the TV set’s controls and made it bassy. We talked for a good 10 minutes or so about a variety of things and I even patted Freckles. She really is a beautiful dog. Her coat is nice and shiny and soft. She said it’s a corgi and her third service dog. Also, she agrees it’s not cool to leave dogs outside unattended and says that if she has her outside for any length of time, she’s with her. Even when she had a German Shepherd, she kept it indoors. I explained to her that in Arizona they tend to leave their dogs outside and asked her if that was customary in Sacramento. She said she wasn’t familiar with that city, but said they were strict about animals, so maybe that’ll be a good thing. Then again, “strict” may only mean no-letting-it-loose-without-a-leash and not, don’t-let-it-bark-outdoors-round-the-clock.

I told her we were going to do a swap meet or yard sale before we left in a few months to rent a house before we can move to California and that I thought she may want first dibs on some of the knickknacks I don’t want. She said she was still broke from moving in here and wouldn’t have any money for a month, but that she definitely wanted more plants. I gave her my puzzle since we only paid 75¢ for it and she said she needs things to keep busy (she was about to take a nap, supposedly from sheer boredom), and it looks like she may buy my spider plant, but not for another month or so when she has more money. So I let her know I’d catch her out back in about a month, and if she’s still interested, she can have it for $20. I doubt the pot and the plant cost me that much, so I’m making a bit of a profit, unlike most things we sell. If she talks me down to $15 or so, that’ll be okay because plants aren’t my top priority in life as opposed to dolls and smells. I’ll definitely be keeping the date palm, though. I looked in my Maricopa journal to see if this was the queen or the date, and from what I read, it’s the date. It usually gets to be 25’ - 40’. I can’t believe how much it’s grown here. I wonder if it’ll slow down in California. I doubt it. I think it was whatever evil lurked on the Maricopa land that interfered with our plants, both indoors and outdoors.

She said it took her years to adjust to this climate when she moved up from Southern Cal in ’68 and doesn’t even run her heat until it drops into the 30s. Well, I’m not about to stick around long to adjust to this shit! There’s simply nothing for us here. This is a tiny, nothing, going nowhere town. While I don’t miss Arizona, I miss how we lived in a rural area yet could get to big cities in less than a year. Still took long enough, though.

Patty’s thinking of planting some flowers in back where they cut a tree down last Sunday.

She’s also thinking of getting a house through the FHA. Those on disability or who are low-income qualify. I told her we were looking forward to an old house that we could fix up to our own liking.

I mentioned that we started watering the yard in the mornings and she said it would be good for us to rotate weekly so it doesn’t get as expensive as it would for just one person to do it. I didn’t tell her that Tom’s only watering our side.

Even she can hear next door’s doors, but only when she’s sitting out back.

Anyway, Patty may not be perfect since we do still hear the dog a few times a week and she does slam her door, but she could be worse. One thing’s for sure, though, and that’s that her place stinks like hell! I could smell the cigarette smoke wafting out the back door, and her hair looked ridiculous. She’s got roots as dark as my hair is now while the rest of it is bleached so blond that it almost looks gray.

The rat’s running around loose now. I’m keeping the roll of Rolaids Tom had by his bed up on the table. He tried to run off with the whole roll yesterday!

We’ve got what’s the biggest spider so far that I’ve seen in between the front screen and window. It’s a big fat black crab spider.

Thursday, June 16, 2005

Today’s cloudy, damp and cool. To need heat in the middle of June is insane! Never did we need heat at this time back east. How I wish I were at the beach there if only for an hour or two! Then I’d jump right back here to the state that’s almost as bad as the New England states.

At least this kind of weather keeps next door quiet. Yesterday I was headed in to pee when I heard the chick tell the guy, “You gotta wait for it to heat up,” which told me they were going to barbecue. So I shut the window to keep the smoke out and then they lit a firecracker. The kind that whistles for a few seconds and ends with a pop. Fortunately, it was just one.

Yesterday, however, was perfect for walking to and from the Black Bear Diner. We both got the special which was the sirloin steak. It was a little tough but nice for a change.

We had a little scare there for a minute when he started having an allergic reaction to the cucumbers in his salad. Fortunately, he only had a little bite because his throat started to swell shut. A little more might have suffocated the guy!

His coworker who lives nearby honked at us on the way down. Someone we couldn��t see honked on the way back and Tom jokingly said, “Someone you know?” 

I said, “Oh, sure. It’s my secret girlfriend that only comes around when you’re at work.” Sometimes I wish I had one for real, though it wouldn’t be worth the trouble she’d probably cause, and like I said before, I may still feel guilty even though Tom and I are just friends. And I’m not stupid either. I know no bed will magically change things. We had beds in Maricopa and that didn’t seem to make us want to get it on much.

Sure enough, not a damn thing from the queen in the mail. Not even an email message. This means that she could be waiting for his birthday to send something, though I highly doubt it. I’m almost positive she won’t send shit, but that’s okay. I will! We’re not as broke as we were last fall, so we can live without her cheap $25 anniversary check just fine. It’s worth it just to tell her off and get their blood boiling, and believe me, what I have to say will do just that! They’ll be fuming 10 times more than all the times they’ve pissed me off and offended me combined and I don’t care if God punishes me for it since it’s never okay for Jodi to anger people while it’s perfectly okay for others to piss off Jodi. They’ll hear from me just as soon as I hear from the publisher. If they by some miracle accept the manuscript, I’ll want to do a little bragging before I let them have it. They make me sick. They really do. I’m usually pretty good with reading people, though these are just about the last people I ever thought would turn out to be so selfish and uncompassionate. And I know they’re not failing to send anything because they lost the address since they do have our email addresses. If they cared enough to send anything but lost the address, they’d email us. They’re not sending anything because they don’t want to, but this doesn’t piss me off nearly as much as it did when they sat back on their pampered little asses while we were homeless and did absolutely nothing to help us but write to brag about their wonderful new purchases and accomplishments.

Later…

I have been quite depressed today, believe it or not, missing some things I never had that I once wanted, yet still grateful that I never did get them. I can’t believe I’m this bummed out over him after all these years. I haven’t talked to him since the last time I lived on Woodside Terrace in Springfield and that was around 1990. “His” name was Mike M. He was my music teacher in high school and I know he knew I liked him. I’m sure most of the girls did. I can’t believe I never wrote about that final talk we had when I called him 15 years ago. I checked my New England journal and couldn’t find any mention of his name, so maybe I called him the first time I lived on Woodside which was before I began a journal. I mentioned sending him the wacky letter I sent 5 years ago in the Maricopa journal, though. I see that I was pretty vague about him in my autobiography, so I’ll now do up a detailed entry of Mr. Michael M, the one and only man I truly desired. I hate to say it, but not even my initial attraction for Tom, which quickly wore off, came even close to the magnitude of my crush on Mike.

I was only in the real high school for the last part of my freshman year and the first part of my sophomore year, so I didn’t know him for long. Mike was 25 at the time I met him and I was 15. He was the masculine version of Kate Jackson, probably the biggest female crush I’ve ever had, LOL! He was tall, dark and handsome in every sense of the word. He married a student named Daryl who was a year older than me. I never met her, so I couldn’t even say what she looks like. Today Mike would be 49 years old.

I think I dreamt about him the other night and that’s what may’ve triggered these memories of him, not that I ever did forget him. It’s so weird. Here I am jealous of a woman I never met. She got the man I once wanted. She got the child I once wanted. She got to go straight from school to a nice, comfy home in East Longmeadow and then Longmeadow with love and money at her side and then a family, while I went through one loser after another and struggled my ass off. Lust certainly was never meant to be for me the way it is in my fantasies. Anyone I wanted didn’t want me and all that was available to me were those I didn’t want. So with my loveless, lustless life of poverty and my so-called true friends, it seemed she was getting it all while I was going all kinds of wild places. The only problem was that they were all leading to nowhere. Yet at the same time I have to wonder, would I have been happy if I had nabbed him and somehow managed to have kids? If I’d been the one to have him, would he have tolerated my inability to keep a schedule? Would I be happy still stuck back east? Would it have even lasted? Are they themselves still happy? Have they ever cheated on each other? Fantasized about others along the way like I have no matter who I’ve been with? Either way, I know that if I could snap my fingers, jump back in time and be the one to be his wife and have his kids, I wouldn’t do it because nothing could replace or equal my love for Tom and his love for me. The only problem in this marriage is that it’s lustless. I’d rather that than all kinds of other problems like I’d always had in the past. If I could get a buck for every problem I had before meeting Tom, I’d be rich. We were off to a rough start with me wanting a child, needing to get off the cigarettes, then dealing with the damn freeloaders and their tormenting us, but now look how few my problems are compared to then and especially compared to back east. My worst problem right now is that we have no sexual desire for each other, we need more money, and we’re living in the wrong state. I’ve been through many changes, places and adventures, both good and bad, as an adult. Meanwhile, I’m sure Mike and Daryl are doing the same thing they’ve been doing ever since – going to work, then coming home to the responsibilities that family brings. Still, I have to wonder – what makes some of our lives so different than others? Why are certain things meant to be for some of us that aren’t meant to be for others? Daryl went on to have the kid she wanted with the one she loved while I went on to just dream about it. Why did Tammy and Larry get to live in nice houses in nice neighborhoods while I had to live in various apartments in the slums? Why did I have to struggle while everyone else in my so-called family got to live comfortably? Who’d have thought that all these years later I’d be so pissed about that? I guess the only reason I wasn’t at the time was that anything I could get was heaven to me after being in Brattleboro, Valleyhead and Dureen O’s house.

I don’t know, maybe Mike and Daryl have had a million problems along the way. I mean, could they really be that happy all these years? Maybe he beats the shit out of her. Maybe she’s become fat and ugly and he no longer desires her. Maybe she wishes they’d never had kids to come between them. Maybe they do struggle financially. But why did God deny me true lust? I guess it’s better than being denied true love, but why? Why was it important to Him that I never experienced an attraction I could actually act on that went as far as Kacey did, but that never came close to comparing to the young Kate or Gloria or Linda or Mike or Mary C from Valleyhead or Norah M from the Harley hotel? Why did He want me to be teased with Teddy Bear? I was more attracted to her than anyone else who was ever attracted to me in return. We almost were, but never were. Why is that? It was almost as if God was saying, “See? You can be attracted to someone who’s attracted to you too. You just can’t have them!”

Like I said, it’s just so weird. I’m so depressed that I want to bawl my eyes out. I know it’d make me feel better. However, Tom will be in anytime now and I wouldn’t want him to see me crying. What would I tell him when he asked why I was crying? That I was missing my high school music teacher and wondering what his life was like these days? The one I had a huge crush on and was devastated not to have gotten? The one who gave me my first taste of loss and rejection, even if he never meant to hurt me by ignoring my advances?

I’d be a total liar if I didn’t admit there was/is a definite pattern of rejection in my life and that I am not, under any circumstances, meant to have anyone I lust for. I can get close to flirting with them like I did with Teddy Bear, but other than that, all attraction must be completely non-mutual. I can think of numerous people that rejected my advances, other than Mike. There was Mary C, Norah M, Nissan and Rosemarie from the Phoenix apartments, etc. Meanwhile, all the ones I could’ve had like Fran, Nervous and a million other losers, I wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. I wonder why this rule was laid upon me. Not that I’d ever want to be without Tom, but if I were suddenly single, I’d never in a million years even bother to approach anyone I thought was hot. I’d either learn to settle or just be alone because I’d know that’d be all I could do.

Oh, the fantasies I’d have about Mike! While stuck in that miserable house with those miserable people called my parents, I’d fantasize about getting out of school one day and going straight to his house or apartment, wherever that was, and waiting for him to get home. He’d let me cry on his shoulder and then he’d make me feel so much better by cooking us a nice romantic dinner while I took a nice hot bath in his Jacuzzi tub. We’d chat, make love, and I would move in with him and we’d live happily ever after.

Other than a 5-minute attraction for Don Johnson back in the 80s, he was the only one I was very attracted to. What does he look like today, I wonder? Probably put on some weight, got some gray hairs. Would I be attracted to him still if I ran into him right now? Probably not. I think that once we get over 40, most of us just aren’t very appealing.

That damn spider just won’t die. The huge one that’s between the living room screen and window. It’s as immortal as the queen, even though I keep spraying it.

I can still hear her TV next door, but it’s not as loud. We’ll be out of here in 3-4 months anyway and I can’t hear it in the bedroom.

I wonder if we’re about to have the same problem with the internet connection that we had around the time Bev moved out because I couldn’t get online for a while there.

Friday, June 17, 2005

Well, it looks like we may not be out of here in 3-4 months, but should I be surprised? You know God wants me living squeezed in with others and I knew things would start coming up to steal the money we’ve been saving. I was eating popcorn when all of a sudden I started crunching on a piece of tooth. The front part of my first molar on the left broke off. I’ve never had anything like this happen to me before, but Tom has. He had two teeth break up, but having a phobia of dentists, he just let them rot. He got some wax yesterday since it’s a bit rough, but given the location of the tooth, it keeps falling off. I’m okay without it, though.

Today at work he’ll be contacting dentists at lunchtime to see who may be our best bet. Fortunately, I’m not in any pain, though I’m sure they’re going to want to pull it. That would be nice because that’d be one less tooth to have to play Fill It with.

It’s frustrating because all I can think is – something doesn’t want to let us out of here, and it doesn’t want us buying little things once a month like DVDs. Every single fucking time we start to get ahead, something just has to come up. Watch, the next thing to eat up more money than we anticipate will be the truck. There goes that incense I wanted to try this weekend, too. He says most of the overtime he’s been getting will help, and while the overtime certainly is a good thing and is better than nothing, I hate to see him have to work extra hours just so that the money can all go into my mouth. A part of me is considering just letting the tooth decay on its own. My teeth get worse and worse so I’m only going to lose them all eventually anyway. I figure that when I do, we’ll either be making more money and enough of it to cover the cost of dentures, or we’ll be so damn poor that the state will pay for it.

Saturday, June 18, 2005

We just got back from our walk to the grocery store. It’s a pretty chilly day, too. I can’t believe it’s mid-June! They’re using their fireplace across the street. This isn’t good for the electric bill, but it’s keeping next door inside. I think they may’ve woken me up at 3:30 last night if it wasn’t a very loud car stereo, the mother-fuckers. Always gotta be woken up by something, though I can’t deny that I’ve slept better here than in Maricopa, the mountain, or the motels. Maybe that’s because something wants me here.

I lost more of that tooth. This time the back part broke up. Guess I don’t need it pulled after all. That’s good because I not only don’t want God knows how many hundreds of dollars going into my mouth, but all the dentists here are only open Mon. – Thurs. and most aren’t seeing new patients. Tom did talk to one who said they’d work me in if I had an emergency, but hopefully I won’t. I haven’t had any pain and we’re thinking that’s because the tooth died. We’re also back to thinking that that was the reason for the ear pain after all. The filling popped out, the root got exposed and maybe even infected, then it died off. They can all drop dead for all I care!

Tom got me a lobster yesterday from the grocery store and it was quite good. It was a good-sized lobster, though even the biggest lobster doesn’t have much meat.

He also got to the Fragrant Flame today after all. They had a so-so selection, he said. A little better than Jan’s. He got incense, a few candles, and Angel oil. This Angel doesn’t smell like Bob’s or SOS’s. The sticks are great, from what I’ve sampled so far, but I don’t think I’ll get any more candles. They just aren’t fragrant enough. I mean, they smell better held up to your nose unlit than they do lit.

Then again, next door’s not so quiet after all. They’re out blasting a radio right now, but it’s mild compared to a car stereo. It has no bass in it. It’s heavy metal music. But what would they be doing out there now? It’s chilly! It still pisses me off too, even if they aren’t that noisy. Why does God want me listening to other people so damn badly??? Why is it so important to Him??? Why can’t we ever live in a place where we don’t have to be a part of our neighbor’s day-to-day life? Why can’t we NOT know what’s going on with them? We don’t make them a part of our lives.

We’re still hoping to bail out of here come September, though I don’t know that we’ll necessarily find a place quieter. It won’t be the end of the world if we can’t since it’s still quiet most of the time around here, though we’ll at least be detached from others and that’s the biggest thing right there. Unless we end up next to the same shit we had in Phoenix, I doubt I’d have someone’s doors this close that people constantly go in and out of.

Later…

Now we’re shooting off bottle rockets next door. If only Patty wasn’t stuck to us! I’d annoy the shit out of them with my stereo! See, this is what I mean when I say that God not only protects my perps, but he also makes sure I can’t give people a taste of their own medicine. Maybe it’s a good thing, though, cuz the music may just make them noisier. And these aren’t the kinds of people you can ask to quiet down either. I can tell that. Doing that would only stir them up more. You wouldn’t be slamming doors that often and in the middle of the night if you had any respect for those around you. These are people locked in their own little world that would be very upset if anyone tried to intrude or change them.

Monday, June 20, 2005

Got a surprise in the mail yesterday. An anniversary card from Marge with her usual cheap $25 check enclosed. I really thought she was going to blow us off since anyone with sense would’ve sent cards and money for both the anniversary and his birthday before either one of them came around, and not for just one of them after it happened. It made me wonder if she wanted us to think she’d forgotten us, but Tom doesn’t think so. Yeah, she probably lacks the mentality to plan like that. Well, she spared herself from one hell of a nasty letter, though if my book gets published I am going to let her have it gently via email.

Meanwhile, we’re not going to cash the check right away. We’re going to let them wonder if we even got it, then Tom will write to them once we move and let them know we finally got a place.

I also got a letter from Paula. She used a stamped envelope and not one of mine, but it was nice hearing from her. She said it got up to 90º there and that Justin’s turning 14 next month and is going into the 9th grade. Some guy woke her up at 3 AM and she was pissed. She got sunburned at a CT beach and had to see a doctor. Other than that, she thanked me for her birthday package and said she hoped we were well. She asked how our weather was here. Not good. Not good at all. However, it may get to the mid-70s today. It wasn’t nearly this cool at this time last year. It warms up, then it cools right back down. It’s turning into the summer that never was.

I’m getting a coupon for Hawaiian Fruit Punch for doing a survey, so they say, and I printed a coupon for a perfumed evening wash product from KY Sensual. It looks like it may not only smell good but it’s got oil in it which should leave the skin softer than regular body washes.

I just don’t think I’m going to win any of these sweeps at this point. Tom thinks I will and I hope he’s right!

Next door was quiet yesterday and so far today too, though it’s early.

Later…

Patty really gets on my nerves at times! Today she let the dog bark for a few minutes before she finally came out and did something about it. It’s those fucking cats that are the main cause of stirring the dog up. I heard her talking with them briefly. And why does the dog always have to wait till we get back from a walk to go off? Can’t it do its thing while we’re gone?

We went to Burger King because I was starving after veering off track for too long, once again, like a fool. I’ve been trying to get back on track since Saturday. I’ve got to work harder at not over-bingeing on Fridays so I’m not dying of hunger the following days.

I’m not sure if it was a promotional thing they gave to all the entrants or just the winners, but I got a CD in the mail with eBook excerpts at one of the sites doing contests. They’re pretty boring. It’s from a teen site. I checked the site to see their winner’s list, but they don’t have one. This is a start, I guess you could say, though I’d really like to win something we want or something that can be sold. I’ll offer it for a quarter at our yard sale, though I doubt anyone will want this CD. I’ll just ditch it if no one wants it.

They hired more people at work which tells me that they want to cut back on the overtime, which also tells me that he doesn’t have much more of it to look forward to. I guess it will depend on how badly God’s determined to keep me boxed in here between the dog and next door’s doors.

Posted by Jodi at 3:10 AM No comments:   

Email ThisBlogThis!Share to XShare to FacebookShare to Pinterest

Sunday, June 19, 2005

I heard next door as late as after 10 PM. Between high school graduation and Father’s Day, I’d say it was a special occasion. There were at least half a dozen people over there. Hopefully, this will be the only party they’ll throw while we’re still here so I don’t have to be a part of it, too.

I tried calling Paula once yesterday and twice today, but she wasn’t there. Her kid answered and he doesn’t sound like a kid anymore, that’s for sure. Anyway, as I told her in the letter I’m sending, I’d rather we just keep in touch by mail because we can’t afford to go losing too many minutes of phone time.

My tooth is ¾ gone. The molar next to it appears to have a huge black cavity. I doubt there’s a molar in my mouth without a cavity of some kind. I just hope they don’t take forever to break up and fall out.

I wouldn’t say I’m depressed or bored, but I feel empty inside at times. Like I’m lacking variety and excitement in my life. I guess I’ll go work on my story. I don’t really feel like doing that right now, but that’s all I’ve got at the moment.

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Patty’s out watering now while on her cell phone and not doing a damn thing to stop the dog from barking. The dog’s been barking at the cats now for ten minutes yet she won’t do anything. She just lets it bark on and on. Well, I’m not going to worry about my music if this is going to be the case. I can see this is going to be the shitty part of having the weather stay as nice as it is today if it truly is going to stay this way. She’s going to be out there with the damn dog every afternoon and God knows how I’ll sleep through it. A few barks yes, but not if it goes on and on like that. It’s literally against the corner wall of the bedroom. I really appreciate her watering our side of the yard, but I’d appreciate it more if she could take responsibility for keeping the dog quieter. I have to be on days come August if we give notice then and I hope to hell we do! It’s like, damn God for seeing to it that I always, always get shit like this next to me! Damn Him!

A part of me wishes it’d rain like hell till we left, but that’d cost us more money. It’s a no-win situation either way. Tom says she’s a nut for being so obsessed with watering. Yeah, she’s a nut alright. She’s considerate enough to water our side of the yard, but does she give a damn about us being annoyed by the dog? Or about annoying next door? Of course not. If it’s true that what goes around comes around, then Patty’s not going to like whoever moves in here next, though that rule doesn’t usually apply to me. If anything, I’m the one that’s been getting this shit since ’92 no doubt for singing too loud on my swings as a kid when the old lady next door was out tending her garden or some stupid thing like that. Meanwhile, no one’s going to give Patty a taste of her own medicine since it’s me she’s giving the medicine to. If I were anyone else, then maybe she would be in for trouble come September, but we’ll see. I’ll know who it is if they have the person see the place before we leave. I’m very good at reading people so I’m sure I’ll be able to get a good sense of what they may be like.

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

I woke up wondering, what kind of noise will God bless me with today? Then when I went into the kitchen to get my coffee, I saw the dog sitting on its patio and it was only 11:30. However, it got up, took a dump, then went inside without a bark. Meanwhile, I’m sure that come late afternoon or early evening, I’ll have to hear from it. The question is will she ignore it, or will she do something about it? I guess it depends on whether or not she’s on the phone at the time, but if she doesn’t mind all that barking, then certainly she can’t mind a little bass from my stereo, cuz like it or not, that’s just what she’s going to get if I have to hear it later on.

Didn’t hear much from next door yesterday, but at 11 PM when I was in the bathroom, I could hear several voices, although not too loud. My first thought was, what are they doing out this late? But then I realized I was hearing them through their open window.

Unfortunately, tomorrow may be his last day of overtime. I didn’t expect it to last long anyway, but hopefully, hopefully, we’ll still be able to give notice come August. I am not looking forward to spending the rest of the summer here as it is, thanks to that damn dog. I know God will pick out the noisiest neighbors just for me once we get to a house, but at least they shouldn’t be able to get this close to us, let alone be attached. I tell you, if I ever want to feel that something up there loves me and listens to my prayers, all I have to do is just get down on my knees and pray for noisy neighbors and it’s an automatically done deal! It sure would be nice, though, if God could agree that enough is enough already, and just let us live in peace. We have enough other issues to stress over. We don’t need neighbor stress on top of it. We have our other lifelong curse to worry about – money. And of course there are my teeth, too. Just managing to survive and keep from getting fucked over by society and life itself is enough of a challenge. We don’t need the neighbor’s cars, dogs, kids, music, doors and other shit on top of it. But I know that unless we get lucky in some retirement community somewhere a million years from now, anyplace we go is going to have some sounds to listen to that are at least a little extreme. This means that if our neighbors throw a party, we’re invited, like it or not.

I wrote 56 pages on the land, nearly 40 in the motels, nearly 100 with Bev, and now 30 since Patty entered the picture.

Later…

As Tom was getting in, I saw Patty leave with Freckles, but sure enough, they weren’t gone long. The good news is that they didn’t set up house in back for a few hours. I saw the dog out twice but never heard it. Next door’s been quiet, too. Just the usual catcalls and that’s it. No serious door-slamming or anything. If it could be like this every day till we move, I couldn’t complain.

The most surprising thing to happen today was the letter I got from Mary. I really thought she’d decided to give me a taste of my own medicine, despite how often she’d insist that it was okay to get mad as long as you could forgive. She said she’d been in a funk and too anxious to write. I let her know that my letters only stopped because I wasn’t hearing from her. I still expect to do most of the writing and that’s fine. Especially since it’s more convenient for me to do so than it is for her. I asked her to try to write at least twice a month.

I’ve learned that I can take or leave people (except for Tom of course), though I must admit that the idea of her no longer reading my stories did make me a bit sad when I thought I’d never hear from her again. I asked if she wanted me to send her a copy of my last book, or wait and see if I can email it to her once she’s out. I told her she could open a free email account at her local library, but it’s going to cost her a dime a page to print. I guess she’s going to go to North Carolina and stay with her brother when she gets out, but she didn’t say when that will be. All she said was that Monster was sentenced in Arizona to 15 years and she doesn’t know what’s going on. But I thought the Arizona case had been done and over with a long time ago. I know this may sound selfish as hell, but a part of me wants her to do a decade in prison because I’m afraid she may be more of a pest on the outs. Oh well. I’ll just put my foot down if I have to. I’ve done it before and by now I think she’s catching on to the fact that I’m not a favor person.

She remembered Tom’s birthday which was nice, and I let her know our 11th anniversary just passed.

She said she hasn’t had Hope’s address for a while because all her letters were returned to her because she wasn’t family. I told her not to worry about it.

She asked if I’d heard from Marilyn, agreeing that she was cool and her laughter was nice, and so I let her know that unfortunately I never did.

I gave her my email address but said we ought to wait as far as giving her my cell phone number which she asked for. I explained to her that my phone was not activated. His is, but we need to save on our minutes. I told her that once she’s officially out of there she can contact me by postal mail or email and I’ll give her whatever number we have then. We might switch plans. There are other plans now that are cheaper. She doesn’t sound as if she’s getting out anytime soon, or else she’d have given me at least an approximate time frame, wouldn’t she?

I filled her in on all that’s been going on here between my tooth, the sweepstakes, the submitting of my manuscript, the overtime he’s getting, dying my hair, the neighbors, walking to the store, him riding his bike and saving on gas, us having more money and planning to rent a house for a year in September, then leaving the state after that, and that here it is barely more than a week from July and we’ve finally, finally, got a real summer! Hopefully, it’ll stick around for more than a few days, too.

What was funny was that she asked me what China’s population is since she’s already freed 251 million souls from purgatory. I don’t know how she’s come up with that figure, but she sure has been busy! Tom and I don’t believe in purgatory, but it’s okay that she does. It gives her something to do. I let her know that China currently has just over a billion people. It’s one populated country! Glad I don’t live there. There is no such thing as “rural living” there.

I told her that when we walked by one of the motels we stayed at the other day, I looked at it and said to Tom, “It’s hard to believe that the girl in there who cried for hours on end as she lay on those rock-hard beds, feeling hopeless, helpless, wanting so badly to die, feeling so much hatred and anger towards God, was me.”

Thursday, June 23, 2005

Patty had me worried again for a minute there when I saw the dog lounging out back because she does not always sit with it when she leaves it outside for a while like she said she does. Yet it’s been quiet with the only sound being voices from next door’s barbecue. Now I can’t hear a thing, if they’re still out there, because the fan’s on. It’s getting pretty toasty in here, too.

I got an email from SOS with a great sale offer for a buy-four-get-one-free deal on their 1-oz. trial sizes. So I ordered Peanut Butter Crunch, Cookie Dough, Deep Fried Ice Cream, Cookies & Cream, and Hawaiian Rain. That’s not all. For just $20.50, I get 8 samples of their new spring scents – Summertime Rose, Peach Orchard, Jolly Rancher Watermelon, Musk Mountain Rain, Green Leaf & Bamboo, Aloe Tea & Honey, Japanese Honeysuckle, and Soft Indigo Rain. I don’t think they’ll be 1-oz. sizes, but that’s okay. Lastly, by placing an order, I’m automatically entered into their drawing. First prize is a $100 SOS voucher and 4th is a $10 voucher. I’m sure the chances of me winning a voucher, unfortunately, are about the same as they would be if I didn’t place an order at all.

Last night, even though I had the fan blaring, the sound machine blaring, and was lying on my good ear, I heard a thunderous car stereo go by at 3 AM. It was so loud that it shook the room. It would’ve woken me up for sure and I can see where I’d have assumed it was next door slamming doors.

They have these chat forums at the sweeps site and there are other people whining about not winning while others win every month. Some say they believe in the law of averages and that they’re bound to win sooner or later.

Am I?

As of midnight, we’ll supposedly have 70 days left here, but I’ll believe it when I see it. It seems life is one big waiting game. Right now we’re waiting to move into a house, then we’ll wait to move to California, then we’ll wait till we can get a rental down there, then we’ll wait till we can buy a place, then we’ll wait till we can fix it up and start building up enough equity, then we’ll wait to hopefully, hopefully, get some peace in the end there in a retirement community.

Right now I’m waiting on the oils. If we make Saturday’s pick-up, I could get them on the 2nd. If not, I’ll probably get them on the 5th. I’m glad I won’t be asleep during the evening on the 4th, thanks to next door. If they go firecracking on non-holidays, then I can only imagine how they’ll be on the 4th, but maybe not. I don’t think they shot off any on New Year’s Eve.

Friday, June 24, 2005

I finally, after nearly two months of sweeping, have my first real win! I’m excited about it even if it’s nothing big. It’s not even for me. I won Tom a pair of canvas shoes in khaki. I had my choice of that or a bag in mint, so I chose the shoes, figuring he’d want those more than a bag. He’s a size 10. I was one of 5 people to win this month and it was a one-time entry for correctly answering the trivia question from their site which is called Gravis. I got the answer from the notes section. I don’t know why people give answers to other sweepers. You’re lowering your chances of winning by doing that. They sent me an email telling me to reply to it with my shipping address and choice of prize. They also asked for a photo to add to their site. I don’t have any recent ones, so I sent one from Maricopa where my hair was really long.

So the law of averages finally paid off. I’m glad. I’d have hated to hang up sweeping not just because I wasn’t winning, but because it gives me more to do. It’s fun, too!

Winning shoes is nice, but it’d be even nicer to win something big. I’d prefer a big cash prize most of all but would happily settle for a vehicle, a cruise, a house or a gift certificate worth hundreds of dollars at a store. Even a bottle of perfume would be nicer than shoes. I would think that if I kept at it for the rest of my life, I’d be bound to win big sooner or later.

Tom’s right about it taking a while for them to notify me, too. It looks like I won the shoes on May 31st, so I could have other wins out there that I don’t yet know about.

My bangs have grown out to the point where I can now gather them into a ponytail.

Saturday, June 25, 2005

Yesterday and the day before were so warm that I had to work at keeping it from getting into the 90s in here by blowing cool air in from the other rooms. Today, however, is much cooler. The heater will probably come on early in the morning.

We went for our walk to the grocery store earlier and again his coworker drove by as we were walking. He lives just up the street.

I’m pleased to say that it’s been quiet here all day, though I didn’t get up till the early afternoon. Tom would’ve told me if there was anything going on. All I heard was next door talking, but I hear that pretty much every day and figure I will as long as it’s warm.

Meanwhile, it’s just me, my computers and the blessed silence of nighttime. Ah, the peacefulness of the nighttime! I love it. At night I never have to say to myself, “Okay, it’s quiet now, but will it stay that way?”

Tom said he had a sore throat when he went to bed. I hope he’s not coming down with a cold and that I can stop it if he is.

I don’t feel like working on my story now and the new sweeps aren’t all in yet, so I guess I’ll go do some reading. One sweeper had 4 wins in 3 days!

Sunday, June 26, 2005

It seems I cannot get closer than 5 days to my period without spotting, but 5 is better than 10.

Got my second and final rejection from the publishers. This time they attached a list of excerpts from the book that they had a problem with and pointed out why in hopes of encouraging me. We don’t agree with all the things they pointed out, but 8 pages worth of stuff really makes me think I’m not nearly as good of a writer as I thought I was. I can see putting thoughts in italics, but what was wrong with having Maureen stand there and tell Shania all the horrible things she was going to do to her when she finally found her in the K-Falls motel room? Of course it was because she wanted to scare her and make her feel threatened before she killed her. Or tried to anyway. It’s okay, though. Rather than rewrite it or submit anything else, I’ll go on writing for fun. That way I don’t have to worry if I’m not being descriptive enough or if I have any discrepancies, etc. I could even use celebrity names if I wanted to and even racial slurs. I always did know that something up there never wanted me to succeed career/money-wise and that I’ve already been living my true destiny – being the homemaker/hobbyist that I am. I’m simply not meant to make money, but I can win a pair of shoes every now and then and write for fun. I think that writing professionally would be so much work that it’d take the fun out of it just like singing professionally.

One of my boo-boos was funny. The part where Lauren busts Shania out of the hospital and then her friend drives them to the bus terminal. Meanwhile, Shania’s still in her hospital gown. I forgot to have her change in the friend’s van!

Some of the things she picked on make no sense. She questioned why I would refer to “the other day” as the other day when it was just yesterday. But isn’t yesterday the other day? I would think either phrase, be it “the other day” or “yesterday” would be appropriate.

Anyway, I see it like this: I made two submissions, so I can’t say I didn’t try. It was a fun and interesting experience getting their feedback and all that, but now it’s time to move on, write for fun and just be the leaf blowing in the wind that we almost all are meant to be. Some do the things they’d like to do, but most don’t. It’s a simple fact of life, like it or not. If I thought the odds of making decent money at it were in my favor, then I’d consider all the hard work it’d take, but I don’t want to work my ass off just to almost certainly be told that I’m still not quite “getting the picture.”

I kind of got a kick out of how she said “Good luck with your writing career.”

What writing career?

Tom said this has inspired him to write a book, though I doubt he will. Not that I don’t think he’d be a good writer, but I think writing a book would be something he’d find easier to talk about than to do. He has too many other higher priorities in his life.

Monday, June 27, 2005

We’re still not sure if we’re giving notice in August or September, but I’m sure it’ll be September, with my shit luck. I don’t know why. I mean, we aren’t going to a place any quieter than this. The only difference is that we won’t be attached to anyone and we won’t have doors slamming and dogs barking so close to us, but I guess that’s enough of a reason for whatever’s been determined to see me spend 95% of my life where I don’t want to be, to keep me here. It’ll also depend on if we can find a place that doesn’t want last month’s rent. I have a feeling that for us, it’ll be mighty hard to find a place that doesn’t want first month, last month, and a deposit as well. That’ll keep us here till October for sure if it’s going to take us around $1300 to get moved, rather than around $800.

Patty hasn’t let the dog get out of control, though I’ve heard a couple of quick barking sprees today and yesterday. It’s probably been going off in the mornings too, when she has her company, but I’ve been sleeping through it. Lucky for her!

My vibes say the place we end up buying in California will be a little noisier than Maricopa, but not as noisy as PHX. Not good. But of course a warm place 200’ from the neighbors versus a warm place 450’ away is going to be a bit more audible. Oh well. At least we’ll own it and will be able to build up equity so that we have more moving choices down the road as we get older. It’s the getting out of this state and into something we own that’s the most important thing to start with. I look forward to fixing it up! That’ll be so much fun as well as hard work. It’ll keep us fit, though I’m not looking forward to the money it’ll cost, but I figure we could sit down and set up a budget when the time comes - how much a month goes to remodeling, how much to food, towards fun.

I’d be okay with this money-saving diet indefinitely. Like I said, until we get rich and they can make calories go away, or I turn 70 (whichever comes first), I don’t mind this diet. It saves money for other things.

I am getting a clearer image of the rental house here. I still see something white with dark trim, unless I’m seeing the California rental. The exterior paint is peeling and it is a small squarish house with small rooms. There are two bedrooms and there may be a fence all around it, including the front, and be set close to the street. I think we will be able to get/send mail at the door. There is no garage or cellar and the driveway is to the right of the house. It isn’t managed by this management company. It’s owned by an older man who owns 1-3 houses. I cannot see what’s around it, but it is not in this area. I see an older/younger neighborhood, but no details. Meaning, the houses are older, but the people are younger. Think the ones next to us will work if that’s the case? Well, of course not! I know they’ll be home 24/7. What will their flaw(s) be? I guess that could only be bass, barks or screams unless they have a woodshop or gun engines. I am not moving next to a basketball hoop! Thank God those things aren’t everywhere like in Phoenix.

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Tom and I went to Burger King for his birthday and had fun laughing and joking about all kinds of things. It was as fun as a birthday could be for him in the midst of our current situation. Even the queen remembered him and sent a $48 check. As with the anniversary card, there was no note enclosed. No bragging about puzzles, kittens or calla lilies. At least he’s one year closer to retirement and one year closer to getting out of this screwy world! In 7 years he’ll get that $250 monthly check from AMEX. Going through a lot of shit tends to simplify your dreams/goals. We may be years away from this, but we just want a modest home where we don’t have to know what’s going on with our neighbors, with $100 extra a month for fun. That’s all we want. He said he’s pretty sure we’ll have that before he’s 55, but if worse comes to worst, we know we’ll have it then.

I’m on nights which is just fine with me. I like sleeping through whatever shit goes on around here in the daytime, though next door’s been up later. I think there’s always been someone up throughout the nights there; it’s just that now that they have their windows open a lot, I can hear voices and coughing as late as 2 AM when I go into the bathroom.

This afternoon I woke up to pee, and I can’t swear to it, but I thought I could hear the dog barking over the fan and sound machine. If it was, then there certainly is no threat of being woken up. If it was barking, then it was probably for the usual reasons; the cats, or wanting to be let in and being ignored.

We’re still not sure if we’re giving notice in August or September. It’ll depend on what we find and what they want up front. Some places cost just under a grand to get into and some cost just over. We won’t know for sure for 2-3 more weeks, though as I’ve always said, it wouldn’t surprise me if it was the latter of the two. At least there are now less than 100 days to go for sure either way.

Most of the big orange-red flowers in the back of the yard have died, but there’s a rose bush blooming by the dividing fence that’s so beautiful.

My oil order has yet to be upgraded to ‘on hold for check or money order’ and then to ‘in production, will ship soon’ so I hope tomorrow’s the day. This order is coming via UPS rather than USPS because it’s weightier. This should make it easier to track and to know when it’ll arrive. Unfortunately, though, I’ll probably be asleep when it does. I hope they’ll leave it by the door.

Wednesday, June 29, 2005

My package just left Maspeth, NY, which I’ve never heard of. Unfortunately, though, I won’t get it till the 8th, so I made up a few more sticks, plus Tom’s going to that store this Saturday.

The last day of the month, as well as the 1st and the 15th, tends to be when most sweeps expire. I won the shoes on the 31st, which should be here next week, they said. Anyway, I’m hoping to have another win tomorrow, even if I don’t hear about it for a few weeks. I just hope it’s a good one if I do!

Thursday, June 30, 2005

Today was a warm one. It got all the way up to 87º in here and that was with fans blowing. In the early morning when it’s cool, we’ll open the front door and let some cool air in to lower it so that it can’t come up as high. Especially with me sleeping into the afternoons these days. I may even sleep with the bedroom door open.

Maybe the summers won’t be so noisy here after all. I forget that most of these “Klammers” are natives, so to them, this is quite a heatwave. It’s keeping people shut up indoors just nicely. But summer will be gone in just 2½ months, so hopefully we’ll be gone before they get back out.

Spain legalized same-sex marriages. This is good, but only the third country to do so. Gays have made only a microscopic fraction of the progress blacks have made. If they ever get to where they are, it won’t be in my lifetime. Part of it is a backlash against religious bigots which they have a lot of over there. Guess I’m not the only one getting fed up with people like that who can’t even speak one sentence without bringing God into it somehow. We still have too many people out there, however, who think God is great and that He hates gays, though He obviously does hate them to a degree. They wouldn’t have gone through all the shit they’ve gone through if He didn’t. Nonetheless, I still don’t understand why the religious bigots don’t understand that they can still be who they are while they let others be who they are as well. But you see, that’s the problem with these people; they expect the world to be just like they are with their old-fashioned families and beliefs. Gays, on the other hand, never set out to try to make the world like them, they just want equality.

The protestors wore white masks with red X’s across the mouth and I thought that was so asinine, even childish. People seem to think that just because they’re going to allow certain people the right to be who they are this automatically means they can’t be who they are, and that’s just not true. You really can be who you are while allowing others to be themselves. People are silly at times.

Another funny one I heard was someone saying, “Now that they’ve made same-sex marriages legal, does that mean they’ll legalize bestiality next?” This statement makes no sense at all. That’s like saying that since it’s legal to buy firearms, they’re going to legalize murder. One has nothing to do with the other.

[elijahkelly]

6/30/2023

I don’t know.

It’s been 3 days since I took my Prozac and I’m starting to be able to tell.  Champagne (my cat) was scratching at my door and it made me mad so I threw my tv remote across the room.  I regretted it as soon as the remote left my fingers.  Thankfully it just hit the wall, but I was embarrassed that I got so angry.

Dylan.  Where do I start?  I guess I’ll start by saying this.

I’m scared to admit that it feels like there are cracks in our relationship, because it feels like once you acknowledge those cracks, that’s when everything collapses.  But I’m seeing the cracks.  And they’re fissuring.

Dylan has lost trust in me.  He’s constantly on my case about what I’m doing on my phone, who I’m talking to, etc.  He sees a name on my phone that he doesn’t recognize and suddenly I’m being bombarded about who it is and where they’re from.  He makes jokes about me having hoes in my phone, despite how much I tell him it makes me uncomfortable.

Dylan literally went from wanting to propose to me in LA to going through my phone while I’m sleeping and running background checks on everyone I talk to.  What’s going on?

Before I talk about this next part, I need to give some backstory about a character.  His name is Brennan.  Brennan is a fellow gay, and he got a job at Sanderson a few months after I did.  He worked the front desk with me and Dylan, and over that time, he and Dylan became friends.  His abrasive personality and crude humor wasn’t appealing to me, so we’re “friends” I guess? But not as close as he and Dylan are.  Eventually, Brennan quit his job at the front desk and transitioned over to working in our fitness department as a spin instructor.  Dylan trained him to teach spin, and he went on to become Dylan’s boss in the department, which gave them something else to bond over.  During shifts where I was the manager on duty and Dylan was working with me, Brennan would come up to the front desk to bother us.  By “bother us,” I mean he would come over and talk to Dylan, mess around with Dylan, make jokes with Dylan, beat up on Dylan, make tiktoks with Dylan, you name it.  All while I’m sitting there, just watching.  I’ve told Dylan on multiple occasions that I am not Brennan’s biggest fan, but for some reason Dylan keeps him around.

Last night.  Dylan and I went with some friends to a bingo night hosted by Trinity Devine, a drag queen and friend of ours.  While we were there, Brennan showed up.  He was already pretty drunk, and he brought the guy he had been seeing.  He came and said hi to everyone at our table, of course not forgetting to give Dylan a big hug.  Then he got around to me and I was waiting on him to say hi to me, when he goes “are you just gonna pretend you don’t like me, Eli?”  I really wanted to tell him I’m not pretending, but I just played it off.  Anyways, throughout the night, he progressively got more drunk.  He kept coming up and hugging on Dylan, play wrestling with him, tickling him, etc.  All while I’m sitting right there and the guy he brought was at the next table over.  I made eye contact with Sav and she just widened her eyes at me, kinda like a “what the fuck is going on” look.  It was uncomfortable.

I don’t know what’s going on with me and Dylan.  I don’t know why we’re suddenly so hellbent on hurting each other.  I want to go back to when we were good and everything felt okay.  Because this does not feel okay.

Hopefully things will change soon.  Dylan got a GA position for Housing, and this position requires him to stay in a building on campus.  So in a couple weeks, he’ll be moving out of my apartment.  It’ll be sad not seeing him all the time, but I think that’s why we’ve been so toxic to one another.  Not to mention he will also have to leave his job at Sanderson, so we won’t work together anymore either.  Having some time apart will be much needed.  Distance makes the heart grow fonder.

Let me set this straight.  I love Dylan with my entire capacity.  Nothing in this goddamn world is gonna take him away from me except for Death themselves.  Relationships are not perfect, not even the best ones.  Dylan is my best friend and he will be in my life for the rest of it if I can help it.  We’re allowed to have cracks, we’re allowed to struggle, we’re allowed to have our moments.  There is purity and love between us that can’t be stifled.  No relationship is perfect.  Relationships are fabricated for media to look perfect but that isn’t real.  Real relationships have grit, stakes, growth, disputes, mistakes, trials, and change.

We will be okay.

We can get through this.