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hakuheartsoul · 26 days ago

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rainy daze ✧ yoon keeho

✧ pairing: keeho x afab!reader

✧ summary: you don't fear much, but there are a few things - storms, for one, and also unnecessary feelings. enter yoon keeho, someone you've known for a long time and makes you question where you stand, but there's one small problem: he's your little brother's best friend.

✧ genre: childhood friends, fluff, smut, some angst sorry in advance)

✧ rating: 18+ (mdni!)

✧ word count: ~14.8k (oops)

✧ content warnings: attempts at humor bc keeho is funny irl, mentions of thunderstorms/lightning, 'oh no there's only one bed' trope, mentions of ✨feelings✨, dirty talk, hair pulling, leaving marks/biting, oral (m and f receiving), face-sitting, face-fucking, hand-holding (important), cum eating, irrational decision making

hi!! i’m still pretty new to writing for piwon and i'm so excited to be participating in the piwontober 24' event hosted by @kisseobie and @sxfterhearts.

i'm writing for Day 29 in which the prompt was age difference/teasing/forbidden with keeho. special thanks to @sunflowerseob, @strawberry-seob, and @leepace for being some of the most amazing friends and fellow writers out there ❤️

also am planning to turn this into a series sooo… pls look forward to that if it happens 💜

��Keeho, I’m serious.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself tighter, as if it would somehow shield you from becoming more drenched. The rain that poured down wasn’t at a storm level yet, but it was still enough to leave you soaked since you had no umbrella or jacket to help.

“Yeah, I know you are, but so am I,” Keeho responded, still cruising along at the slowest speed you figured a car could go. He drove his car on the road alongside you as you walked on the sidewalk.

“Is that how the saying is supposed to go?”

You couldn’t see it without bending down to look through the open window, but you just knew Keeho smirked.

“It is now if that’s what you want.”

You rolled your eyes. “What I’d really like is for you to leave me alone.”

You heard a small chuckle. “All these years and you’re still a terrible liar.”

You groaned. “What do you want from me?”

“To get in the car,” He phrased it almost like a question, like he was confused that you didn’t agree it was the most logical answer.

“Why?”

“For starters, it’s raining and you have no coverage to keep you from getting soaked. Two, you’re trying to go home which is several blocks away and you’re trying on foot, which isn’t safe just so you know.”

If he wasn’t driving you figured he’d probably be listing off reasons on his fingers to better prove his point.

“Three, you’re upset. Need I go on?”

“How do you know I’m ‘upset’,” you asked him in air quotes before quickly putting your arms back around yourself. “And how does getting into a car fix that, exactly?

“Well, the car can’t help with you being upset probably, but getting into the car is a good first step.” His tone was teasing before it shifted into something more serious. “And I saw you at the party, arguing-“

You couldn’t help the scoff that escaped your mouth. “Of course. I should’ve known.”

Despite saying it quiet enough for the rain to drown it out, Keeho still heard you somehow.

“Should’ve known what?”

“My brother put you up to this, right? He forced you to come look for me because I left.”

It was Keeho’s turn to scoff. “You know, contrary to what you may think, I’m not always at your brother’s beck and call.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” You tried to speed up your walking, hoping that was the end of the conversation.

Keeho accelerated slightly, first going past you and slowing back to a speed that matched yours.

“What did you mean by that,” he asked.

“Oh, come on, Keeho. You know that you guys have been inseparable since we were all kids and I don’t really think college has changed that.”

To your surprise, Keeho laughed. “God, as smart as you are, I’d have thought you’d know better by now.”

It was your turn to be the confused one. “Elaborate?”

“If we were as inseparable as you say, don’t you think your brother would be my roommate? We’d be sharing the same space, right? If we really have to be together all the time.”

Keeho had a good point (but you’d never tell him that). Your brother still lived at home with your parents, claiming that it was less expensive that way since apartments were ‘overrated and not worth it’ in his words.

So yeah, come to think of it, you actually hadn’t seen him and Keeho hanging out in person a lot lately.

“We aren’t kids anymore,” he continued when you hadn’t responded. “And you shouldn’t treat me like one just because you're older.”

You weren’t backing down. “3 years is still a pretty big gap-”

“Oh sure it is - if I was 17 and you were 20. I’m 23 and you're 26, there’s really no need to consider age in the equation at all.”

You sighed loudly, finally turning to face the car. Keeho hit the brake and leaned forward with his body angled over the passenger seat so he could see you better.

“Where are you going with this? Or is it all just mindless chatter?” You were still stalling for time before you’d probably cave and just get in the car; questions were your best bet for that right now.

That signature smirk was slapped across his face. “Always assuming I’m up to no good.”

“Keeho.”

“Look, I came after you because I saw you both arguing and you stormed out, clearly not doing well. I’m your friend too - or at least, I’d like to believe I am,” he cut himself off for a moment, almost like he wasn’t sure how to continue. “And I care about you. Honestly right now, I couldn’t give any less of a fuck about what your brother thinks.”

Well that certainly threw you for a loop.

“Why?”

“Why what,” he asked, leaning more across the seat where you could finally see his face, clearly illuminated by the streetlight you had stopped under.

“Why me over him? Isn’t he the one you’re loyal to?”

Keeho groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “For the love of- would you please just get in the car? I can tell you anything you want to know, just please stop standing in the rain getting fucking soaked.”

Again, he made a good point. And now that he’d stated he wasn’t doing this for your brother (jury was still out on if you believed that or not) you figured it wouldn’t do you any harm to get in the car.

A loud crack of thunder overhead made your decision for you, causing you to nearly fall all over yourself to get into the car. You landed in the seat with a wet thud, cringing instantly at how your clothes were clinging to your skin.

Keeho let out what sounded like a content sigh. “Finally.” He turned up the heat in the car and put it in park.

“Don’t want you getting sick, if we’re still able to avoid that at this rate.” He picked up your hands that were in your lap and held them up to the vents on the dashboard.

“You were rubbing your hands together outside and they feel like fucking ice so hold them here for a bit.”

“Is it really a good idea to stay parked on the street?”

Keeho shrugged. “Not a big deal. This street doesn’t usually get too busy at night, and they can just go around me.”

You nodded at the reasoning as you slowly started to regain feeling in your hands again. Another boom of thunder made you jump, which unfortunately for you did not go unnoticed by Keeho.

“You still scared of thunderstorms?”

His tone was light so logically you knew he was genuinely just curious. However, you were very defensive about this subject in particular, so you weren’t taking it that way.

“Yes. And don’t you dare try and tease me about it.” You crossed your arms and looked out the passenger side window.

Keeho chuckled softly. “No judgment here. Of all the things I want to tease you about, your fears aren’t on that list.”

That got your attention.

You turned to face him again, noticing how he had unbuckled his seatbelt so he could angle himself more toward you.

“What was that?”

“What was what,” he asked, smile stretching across his face again.

“That you just said, about teasing - what was it?”

“Hmm, not sure I know what you’re talking about. Maybe you misheard?” His eyes crinkled with the force of his smile and it almost made you crack.

“Wow, skipping straight over teasing and into gaslighting territory. I expected better from you, Keeho,” you tossed the ball back into his court, anticipating he would go even further.

“Ok whoa, first of all, I would never gaslight anyone, ever. That’s shit’s awful. Secondly: why do you wanna know the ways I want to tease you?”

Wait. Pause. Hold it.

“First, it was things you wanted to tease me about. Now it’s the ways you want to tease me?”

Keeho’s ‘oh shit’ expression almost made you laugh.

“Which one do you want to explain first because I’m gonna need clarification.”

“Oh, well, um I guess, uh…” Keeho stuttered. “Fuck, I don’t know how to talk myself back from that, actually.”

You didn’t hold back your laughter then. “Ok fine, pick one and explain that one to me.”

He tapped his chin. “Yeah, I can work with that. Ok: the things I want to tease you about. You ready?”

You nodded, trying to shrug off the thought that you were hoping he’d tell you about the ways instead.

Keeho leaned closer and it suddenly felt like he was very much in your space. It also felt like you very much did not mind that.

He smirked, looking way too good for the proximity he was in.

“Everything.”

That one word alone changed the trajectory of your entire night then, and you knew it.

Keeho knew it, too.

“Well? Is that a satisfactory enough answer for you?” Keeho was still smirking as he leaned back into his seat and away from you, letting you breathe properly once more.

“Um, y-yeah. That’ll do for now, even though it’s vague.” You started off weak but ended it strong, still trying to keep up the banter you two had going so you could hopefully avoid… whatever direction this was heading in.

You could practically feel him rolling his eyes. “I really never can win with you, can I?”

“Nope, I’m a hard one to please.”

Keeho just stared at you for a second before he nodded in acknowledgment.

“Good to know.”

“Wait, what-”

Keeho interrupted you before you could finish. “So, where am I dropping you off? I’m not sure where you're staying these days, but I could take you to your parents’ place if you want.”

“Please no, anywhere but there.” The chance of running into your brother again tonight - despite it being highly unlikely since he usually crashed at the parties he went to - was not something you wanted to risk in the slightest. Your parents were the reason you were in this mess in the first place, making you find your brother and attempt to bring him back since he wasn’t supposed to be out while ‘grounded.’

And yes, if anyone asked your parents, they’d say it was completely fine to ground a 23 year old for misbehaving. You couldn’t argue with that sometimes, because your brother could really get up to some heinous shit.

Maybe that’s why Keeho hasn’t been around him as much…?

“Say no more, parents’ house is a no-go.” Keeho paused, almost looking shy for a moment. “I can take you to your place then, if you don’t mind me having the address.”

You wouldn’t mind giving Keeho your address, but the thought of going home right now also didn’t seem too appealing.

Apparently you took too long to answer because Keeho started backtracking. “Or we could just stay here in the car, whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

Not missing the opportunity to tease him again, you jerked your thumb toward the window and settled for saying “So if I’m most comfortable with walking in the rain-”

Keeho pressed something on his door.

“Keeho… what did you just do?”

“Activated the child locks.”

“Child… child locks? What happened to ‘we aren’t kids anymore,’ hm?” You were trying so hard not to burst out laughing at his attempt to keep the situation in his control.

“Whatever keeps you in this car and not getting ill from the rain is something I’m willing to use.”

You chanced opening the door to see if he truly had pressed the child locks, and you were mildly surprised to see the door opened with ease.

Keeho was quick to grab onto your arm closest to him; not forcefully at all, but enough to stop your movement and have you close the door again.

“Ok so maybe it was the window lock instead, but I’d really rather you just let me drive you somewhere so you don’t have to walk and I know you’re safe.”

Before you could even formulate a thought about how to respond, a roar of thunder followed by a long streak of lightning made you curl into yourself.

“Hey, it’s ok, you’re ok,” Keeho tried to comfort you with a pat on your shoulder. He kept his hand there and the touch was somewhat calming.

”Thank you,” you answered in a small voice before you cleared your throat. “Um, I actually kinda don’t really want to be alone tonight with it storming like this so if it’s ok…”

As you trailed off, Keeho buckled his seatbelt and pressed the brake again to shift the car in drive.

”Buckle up and we’ll head to my place.”

The air in the apartment was chilly, making you shiver even more once you stepped through the door. Cold air mixed with being soaked to the bone was not what you’d call ideal conditions, that was for sure.

“Shit, my roommate probably turned the AC way down before they left. Stay here, I’ll go fix it real quick.”

Keeho placed a hand on your shoulder briefly as he walked past you. It was just the barest of touches, but you found yourself shivering once again.

Must be the AC. That had to be the only explanation.

Keeho was back in front of you just as you heard the AC clicking off. He smiled like he was proud of what he’d done, and you smiled back in thanks.

“I appreciate it,” you rubbed your hands along your arms to try and facilitate warmth - unfortunately to no avail.

“I appreciate you actually listening to reason and coming back with me.”

You rolled your eyes. “So where am I gonna be staying tonight?”

Keeho’s hint of a smile dropped slightly. “Oh, uh… I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

The poor boy looked like he needed help coming up with an answer so you decided to give him grace this one time.

“A spare room? A couch? An air mattress, maybe?”

Keeho rubbed the back of his neck as he contemplated the options.

“Our air mattress is busted so that’s out. The only other room in here is my roommate’s and he’s gone for the weekend, but I don’t think you’d like sleeping there very much. He also probably wouldn’t be too fond of the idea…”

You scanned the area until your eyes landed on the couch against the wall in what looked like the living room. “What about there?”

Keeho nodded but was frowning. “That’s a place, yeah. It’s just very uncomfortable and I want guests to enjoy themselves when they’re here.”

You clutched your chest in feigned hurt. “But I thought we were friends? Now I’m just a guest?”

Keeho smiled, catching on. “Nope, you’re definitely at the friend level. So your comfort matters even more to me because of that.”

Well, shit. You talked yourself into that one.

“So I’ll take the couch tonight and you can have my bed, if that’s cool. It’s clean - I promise.”

You didn’t doubt it for a second - you’d never known Keeho to just leave messes lying around - but you didn’t want to kick him out of his own bed.

“Keeho, I can have the couch, I swear it’s fine-”

He shook his head with finality. “I’m not having you sleeping out here all night when you’ve already been through enough as it is. Speaking of,” Keeho trailed off as he scanned your figure. “You're still drenched.”

“Oh,” was your brilliant response.

“If you, uh, want to take a shower or something, you can. I can grab a towel and whatever else you need?”

“Sounds great except I don’t have a change of clothes,” you shuffled your feet a little, noticing how water seeped out and onto the floor. You felt bad for that now as well.

“Oh, right. Well, you can… borrow some of mine? If you’re ok with that?”

The offer made you smile. “Yeah, I think that’ll work.”

Keeho gave you two thumbs up, something you knew he did when he was feeling a little awkward about what had just happened. “Got it, yeah, so I’ll just um… go get everything set up for you. The shower is in my bedroom, but there’s a door so it’s not just open or anything-”

You could see him spiraling in real time, so you reached out to touch his arm to get him to stop. “Hey, look at me for a second?”

Keeho looked at you and you could see how he was breathing a little faster from the rambling he’d just done.

You gave him a reassuring smile. “Thank you. Seriously.”

Keeho’s eyebrows unfurrowed and he seemed visibly calmer. “Right. I’ll uh, I’ll be back.”

You waited for Keeho to finish up in the bathroom, choosing to take in your surroundings now that you were by yourself. The apartment looked about like what you’d expect from Keeho, and it got you wondering if his bedroom would be the same-

“Everything’s all set up now,” Keeho returned with a grin. “You can go whenever you want and I’ll just stay out here or something.”

”Sounds great,” you made one move with your foot and immediately winced at all the water that started dripping onto the hardwood floor underneath you.

No way in hell were you tracking this through the carpet. You’d rather go home than do that.

”Um, Keeho?”

”Yeah, what’s up?” His back had been turned to you while he was looking for something in the kitchen area.

”I, uh, I don’t really know how to get to the bathroom.”

”Oh right, duh. It would help if I told you. My bedroom is the first door on the right down that hallway.”

”Um, well what I mean is,” you watched him walk back over to where you were standing. “I don’t want to get water everywhere.”

Keeho looked like a lightbulb just went off in his brain. “Oh shit, yeah, that would be kinda bad. Uh…I could carry you?”

”I mean,” you kept your composure despite the offer making your face heat up, “I’m not opposed necessarily but wouldn’t that still drip water onto the floor?”

“Good point. I mean, the carpet shouldn’t get that messed up…maybe.”

”How about instead,” you braced yourself for the words that were about to come out of your mouth, “I can take my shoes and clothes off out here? Just the outer layer that’s soaked.”

You were looking at the floor, cheeks burning hot and the suggestion that you came up with. Keeho didn’t say anything for a moment, and when you finally glanced at him it looked like he was trying to restart his thinking process.

”Oh um, yeah, sure, if that’s how you want to do this. I’ll just, uh…go get the towel I laid out for you.”

He practically jogged to the bathroom to retrieve the towel, making you giggle at the action.

Within a few seconds he was back, towel held in a firm grasp. “Here, I’ll go uh- I’ll go back in my room and stare at the wall. Like, the other wall. Not the wall connected to the bathroom. Um, anyway, just… come through whenever you’re ready.

Keeho didn’t even give you a chance to respond before he was walking back to his room. He shut the door almost all the way behind him, leaving it cracked the smallest amount.

With Keeho out of the room, you got to work stripping down. Thankfully, your bra and underwear weren’t too terribly wet, so you could put them back on underneath his clothes when you were done with your shower. You left your shoes, socks, and drenched layer of clothing by the door to the apartment, piling as much of it onto the doormat as you could.

Once you had the towel wrapped tightly around you, still over your undergarments, you walked over to Keeho’s door and knocked on the wood twice. Keeho mumbled some sort of affirmation and you went inside.

True to his word, Keeho was facing the complete opposite way of the bedroom door and the bathroom. You didn’t see light from his phone or anything, so he was likely just sitting there staring at the wall, like he said he would. He fidgeted a small bit once he could tell you were in the room, shifting his weight from one side to the other where he was sat on his bed.

You couldn’t help but smile. The way he was going out of his way to make sure you were as comfortable as possible tugged at your heart a little bit, but you tried to ignore it.

This was your baby brother’s best friend. A friend who is even younger than your brother (although not by much). The last thing you needed was to get caught up in something with Keeho that could wreck both your and his relationship with your brother.

More for Keeho’s sake, really, since you were more distant with your brother these days.

Did you think Keeho was cute? Absolutely. Did you guys get along pretty well? You do, and have for a long time.

Was it worth it to see if there could be something more?

That was something you’d wondered a few times before and may never get the answer to.

Before you could self-reflect more on a currently non-existent problem you proceeded to the bathroom to take your shower.

You didn’t look to see what clothes he laid out for you until you were done, noticing as you exited the shower that he left you a large red t-shirt and a pair of dark basketball shorts.

The shirt fit fine since you preferred oversized shirts anyway for sleeping. The shorts, though… they didn’t have a tie or anything so the waistband was a little loose, meaning there wasn’t really a way for you to keep them on comfortably.

Were you really about to step back into Keeho’s bedroom looking like you have nothing but his shirt on? Well, yes.

No time like the present and all that.

You knocked on the bathroom door to signal to Keeho that you were about to come out and once he let you know it was alright, you took a deep breath before you turned the door handle.

As soon as your eyes landed on him, your mouth went dry.

Keeho was sprawled out on the bed, changed into a pair of gray sweatpants with a black tank top. His dark hair, tinted with blue highlights, was still a little damp from the rain, by the looks of it. He had one hand behind his head while the other was in front of him, scrolling away on his phone.

You remembered the day you saw his new blue hair look for the first time - you only went mildly insane.

And now, with all of this combined, he looked…a lot better than you’d anticipated, that was for sure. Of course, the last time you’d seen him in any form even close to this was…well, never, actually. At least not since you two grew up.

When you shut the door back behind you Keeho finally looked up. His eyes met yours and he suddenly dropped his phone. It landed on his chest before sliding down onto the bed, forgotten.

“Oh, uh, hey.” He cleared his throat and tried to avert his eyes. “How was the shower? Find everything ok?”

You giggled as you walked over to the bed. “Yes, thank you. I found all the essentials easily since they were all in one convenient place.”

“Right, I forgot I put them there, ha. Anyways, I’ll just um,” Keeho jerked his thumb towards the door, “go so you can have your privacy.” He phrased it like a question.

“Do you want to go,” was your response.

“Do you want me to go?”

“Keeho, it’s your place. I’ll do whatever you want me to.” The words tumbled out before you could realize what you’d just implied.

You could’ve sworn you heard Keeho mumble ‘fuck’ under his breath before he gave you an answer.

“What I want is for you to be comfortable. And since it’s still storming, you’ll probably feel better in here because it’s louder out there with the couch being by a window.”

Shit, you’d forgotten about the storm momentarily. “Makes sense,” you responded, looking out of the doorway of Keeho’s bedroom.

Keeho sat up straighter to push himself off of the bed. You definitely weren’t watching the way his arm muscles flexed with the movement. “I made some tea while you were showering; if you want some, it’s in the kitchen. I left out a cup for you but please don’t feel obligated.”

You felt a lump form in your throat at how nice he was being. This is what you’d been missing out on for a few years because you counted him as ‘off-limits’ before?

“Thanks, Kee. I might grab some before I finally fall asleep.”

Keeho smiled brightly. “Been a long time since you’ve called me that. I’ve missed it.”

You tried to remember the last time you’d referred to him like that and figured it had to be since before he left for college. So, yeah, it had been a while.

“Well, I’ll be out there if you need anything,” Keeho continued, walking over to where you stood. At the same moment, a roaring crack of thunder sounded overhead, making you jump and start to fall over.

Keeho being Keeho, of course, was there to catch you instantly. He wrapped his arms around you and embraced you in a hug. You were shivering and he could tell, so he held you tighter.

You decided to say fuck it and just go for it.

“Kee?”

“Hm,” he hummed in response. You could feel the vibration of the hum throughout his chest since that’s currently where your face was.

“Would it be alright if you…stayed with me? At least until the storm subsides?”

You felt Keeho stiffen somewhat before he relaxed again.

“Yeah, whatever you need. I can like, grab a chair or something and set it in here-”

“Don’t be silly,” you pulled back so you could smile at him. “Your bed is big enough for the two of us, don’t you think?”

Keeho looked taken aback. “You sure that’s ok?”

“Wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t.”

“Cool, yeah, cool. Ok so let’s just- yeah.” Keeho led the both of you back to the bed. “Take whatever side you want.”

You laid down in the middle of the bed and stretched out just to be difficult. “What about here?”

Keeho finally cracked a smile, and you were thankful to see it. There was a sort of tension that had settled in the air since you first asked him to stay, and you were trying to dissolve it as soon as possible.

“Don’t think you’ll want half of me on top of you later so that might not be the best place.” Keeho gently nudged your leg so he could get onto the bed. You rolled over to give him more room, laying on your stomach now with your eyes closed while you sighed deeply.

When you finally opened them again, Keeho was looking at you - well, rather, he was looking at a part of you. Up until that point, you’d been completely unaware that moving made his shirt ride up your thighs.

“Oh shit,” you quickly moved to pull his shirt down in the back. “Sorry, the shorts didn’t fit so I just figured I’d go without.”

“Huh?” Keeho looked up at your face, almost like he was dazed.

You laughed. “Eyes up here, Kee. And what I was saying is your shorts were too big so I left them off. Hope you don’t mind?”

“You have no idea how much I don’t mind,” he smirked at you and suddenly, the tables didn’t seem to be turned in your favor anymore.

You quickly turned your head the other way so he couldn’t see the way your cheeks started to flush. “Right, well, glad we cleared that up! Goodnight then.”

Keeho laughed, the sound quiet but still comforting. He grabbed a blanket that was at the edge of the bed and draped it over you. “Night.”

You felt Keeho shift on his side, thinking he probably turned the opposite way as well. There was a lamp on his nightstand that he hadn’t turned off yet, and it was the only thing still really providing illumination in the room.

It wasn’t even 5 minutes later before you felt Keeho shift again and softly call your name.

“Yeah,” you responded as you turned to face him. He looked…nervous.

“This is a safe space, right?”

You chuckled. “I don’t know, it’s your room so you tell me.”

Keeho groaned. “I didn’t mean it as in the physical space - although it is safe in here, don’t get me wrong-”

“Kee, focus.” You interrupted his spiral again, not wanting him to overthink and back down from whatever he was trying to say.

He took a deep breath. “Right, ok. Can I say something blunt?”

Your heartbeat quickened, not sure where this was headed. “Yes?”

Keeho moved closer with a smile, tugging slightly on the end of one of your sleeves - one of his sleeves.

“I gotta say,” he trailed his eyes up your figure, starting from where you caught him looking earlier. “You look really fucking good in my clothes.”

You stopped breathing for a second. This is the closest Keeho had ever really come to flirting with you. The most he’d done in recent years since you both became adults is tease you relentlessly, but you always shrugged it off as he just liked to get on your nerves (endearingly).

You regained your composure, trying to look unaffected when you answered him.

“Do you say that to all the girls you manage to get into your bed?”

Keeho wasn’t phased. “If I’m being honest-”

“Because it won’t work on me. I’m different.” You almost cringed at hearing yourself say those words even though you meant them in a completely other context than you hear most people use it in.

Keeho stared at you more intently this time. “What I was going to say,” he felt the fabric of the sleeve again between his fingertips, “is no, I don’t just say that to ‘girls I get in my bed.’”

“But you’re right about one thing, “ he continued, face lit up beautifully by the warm glow of the lamp beside him, “you are different. And that’s why I’ll say it to you.”

You’d started leaning closer to him as well without realizing it, his touch through the shirt driving you crazy. “Keeho, where are you going with this?”

He smiled, full of reassurance. “Wherever you want.”

You ached to cross that line, to break that boundary. But something was still keeping you back.

“What if what I want isn’t right,” your voice came out small.

Keeho’s smile faded. “What do you mean by not right?”

You sighed. “I’m older than you, for starters. And I know you don’t typically go for people older than you.”

Keeho tilted his head at your admission. You figured he never knew you still kept up with him outside of the times you actually saw each other in person, and he didn’t know that your brother let that particular bit of information slip once in conversation.

“Keeho would never want to date you - he probably sees you as a hag. He wants someone younger, so don’t even try.” The words from your brother still stung today, and what’s worse is they were completely unwarranted. All you’d done is ask how Keeho was liking college, and your brother just blurted out that in response.

“Also, and more importantly, you’re my brother’s best friend. That’s like…some kind of betrayal or something.”

“What is, what betrayal are you talking about?” Keeho looked like he was really trying to understand, which made this conversation much more difficult.

You steadied yourself before you finally gave him your answer. “The way I want you.”

Keeho closed his eyes like he was trying to gather his thoughts. His hand dropped from your shirt. “Unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I was hoping that one day, you’d stop seeing me as a kid or just an extension of your brother. I wanted you to see me for me, because I’ve only ever seen you that way.” His eyes were open again, and they looked full of purpose.

“Keeho, what-”

“My point is, whatever you think about me because of my age and me being friends with your brother: don’t.” This was the most serious you’d ever seen him. The usual teasing, easy-going Keeho was nowhere to be found right now.

He reached out to rest his hand against your cheek. You leaned into the touch, welcoming the warmth that he radiated.

“I want you. And I’m not afraid to say that. There’s something there, I know there is,” Keeho kept going. “And I’ve known that for a while, at least on my end.”

“How long have you known,” you asked him with curiosity, but the way his hand moved from your cheek to the side of your neck really wasn’t helping you’re trying to stay calm during all of this.

Keeho hummed in thought. “Probably since right before I went to college.”

You gasped. “So when you were…”

“17. And you were 20. I knew that back then obviously there was no way - but I’d always hoped that one day maybe there’d be a chance.”

This information hit you like a tidal wave and threatened to pull you under. Keeho had been crushing on you for at least 5 years, and you had no idea to what extent until now.

All those times you thought he was just being ‘flirty’ he may have been actually flirting. You always shrugged it off before because why wouldn’t you?

He called your name again to pull you out of your thoughts.

“Need you to talk to me. I can’t read your mind,” his eyes had softened while he was talking to you. “Which is probably a good thing because I don’t know if your brain ever shuts the fuck off.”

You scoffed and shoved him playfully, his hand never leaving the side of your neck while he tried to dodge you.

“I…don’t really know what to say right now. I had no idea you felt that way- or at least that you felt that strongly.”

“I know,” Keeho answered dramatically. “I can’t tell you how frustrating that’s been over this last year especially. None of my pick-up lines worked on you and it had me like ‘damn, is my game really that bad?’”

You started laughing. “Oh my god, no, it’s not that. I just always thought you were teasing me.”

“I was! In a flirtatious manner!”

“I see that now,” you countered. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.”

Keeho rolled his eyes. “Look, the past is the past, what matters is right now. And right now,” he continued, rubbing his thumb along your neck while the rest of his hand stayed in place, “I need to know what you want.”

A spark of desire settled in your core. You wanted Keeho. But you were still worried.

“If you decide you don’t feel the same,” Keeho went on before you could respond, “I can turn over and we can forget this ever happened. Well- you can forget this ever happened. I don’t think I’ll be that lucky.” His sweet smile then almost broke your heart.

Your words were failing you, so you did the only thing you could think of: you moved closer. You were directly in each other’s space now, and the movement made Keeho’s breath hitch.

“Do you want this,” Keeho said, just above a whisper. “Do you want me?”

You nodded before you could give it too much thought. The grin that lit up Keeho’s face made everything worth it.

“Then, can I kiss you?” He was still talking quietly, his lips close enough that the barest of movements would have closed the distance.

You moved to nod again but Keeho shook his head. “Words, baby. Need to hear you say it.”

“Please,” you answered, ready to cross that point of no return.

He smiled and leaned in. There was no turning back.

Keeho kissed gentler than you were expecting. The way he always threw himself into everything he did is also how you thought he would start off with this, but he was set on taking his time. His lips moved against yours slowly, almost like he was trying to commit how you felt to memory. As if he may not get another chance like this and wanted to make the most of it.

Kissing Keeho felt good. It felt great, even. But most of all, kissing Keeho felt right.

You tried to wrap your arms around his neck but had some trouble due to the angle. He took the hint to resituate the two of you, all while his lips never left yours. The new position had Keeho hovering on top of you, resting one forearm on the bed while the other hand still made itself at home on your neck. When you threaded your hand through his hair, you could sense the shift.

He kissed you with more urgency now, his hand starting to wander down lower. When you felt his fingers softly brush against your thigh, you couldn’t control the noise you let out.

Keeho groaned in response. “Fuck, you sound so pretty. Always figured you would.”

He started trailing more kisses down your neck as you let out a laugh. “So you’ve pictured this before?”

Keeho looked at you with a face that could only be saying ‘Are you kidding me?’ You responded with an eyebrow raise, wanting him to answer you with words.

“Of course I have.”

Oh. Well that was a bit more honesty than you were expecting right out the gate.

“I’ve pictured this, dreamt about this…,” he trailed off to drag his lips up closer to your ear, voice lower as he continued, “gotten off thinking about this."

You gasped, feeling Keeho smile against your neck at his ability to pull another reaction out of you.

“I’d ask you the same question, but I think I already know the answer.” His tone sounded teasing, but you could tell he really was curious. You felt it was only fair to give him what he wanted.

“I…may have thought about this a time or two.”

The speed with which Keeho lifted his head almost had you reeling. His eyes were wide as he simply asked, “Really? You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

“Cross my heart.” You did the motion with your hand, drawing an imaginary ‘X’ over your chest. This was something that meant a lot to both of you growing up, and it definitely wasn’t something either of you said lightly.

At your admission Keeho dove in to kiss you again, lips moving almost hungrily, his hand now gripping your thigh.

His fingers moved subtly but still didn’t inch higher yet, despite how much you wanted them to. It dawned on you then that Keeho may be hesitating.

“Kee?” You pulled back from him and placed a hand on his cheek, watching as he evened out his breathing from the attack he’d just launched on your mouth.

“Is something wrong,” you continued, since you wanted him to feel comfortable if either of you were going to do anything even remotely past this point.

Keeho shook his head but his eyes said otherwise. Before you could ask him to elaborate, he beat you to it.

“It’s not that something’s wrong. Things couldn’t be more right than they are now, in my opinion.“ His last sentence was almost mumbled out, like you weren’t supposed to hear it.

“I just… need to know. Before this goes on.” His tone was serious, eyes set again with determination. “What does this mean to you?”

The question took you off guard. “What do you mean?”

“You know how I feel, what this,” he gestured between the two of you in the little space that was still left, “means to me. I need to know if it’s the same for you.”

You weren’t sure how much of you ‘knowing how he felt’ was true, because you’d just learned recently that he had a crush on you. Initially, you thought that maybe this was just about sex and not much more than that, crush be damned. Keeho just seemed like that might be what he preferred - no attachment, no feelings.

For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even know if he was dating anyone. Hell, he hadn’t even asked you if you were dating someone.

You both had just kinda jumped into this because the moment felt right, but you were having second thoughts now.

“Wait,” you tried to lean back and put more distance between the two of you. Keeho looked hurt for a moment but masked it quickly - something you knew him to (unfortunately) be good at. His hand left your thigh and he waited for you to go on.

“Are you involved with anyone?”

“Involved?” Now Keeho was confused instead. “Involved like- oh. No, I’m not. The fuck?”

You almost raised your hands up in defense but thought it better that you didn’t. “Just making sure! I wasn’t sure what your relationship status was these days.” You crossed your arms and looked to the side.

Keeho called your name to pull your attention back to him.

“Do you actually think I would have driven beside you on the sidewalk during a thunderstorm, let you stay in my apartment, and initiate any of this if I was dating someone?”

He had a good point. Even still, it’s always good to check.

“Before you answer, it’s a trick question because yes, I would do those first things without hesitation because I care about you. What I wouldn’t do,” Keeho moved closer, once again limiting the distance that kept you apart, “is this.”

He tilted your chin upwards and his lips brushed against yours softly. It was just once, but once was enough to convey what he was trying to say.

“And I didn’t think to ask you the same because I knew as soon as I was blunt with you I‘d find out. There’s no way you’d be down to mess around with me while you’re not single.”

Another good point from Keeho. He really was throwing you for a loop tonight.

You swallowed audibly, his stare making you feel squirmy. “Right, ok, um- glad that’s settled then.”

“You still haven’t answered my question, though.”

You knew he was right, you couldn’t keep avoiding it. But what did this mean to you? The only thing you could think of at the moment was what finally ended up leaving your mouth.

“I don’t think it means the same to me as it does to you.” It was like you could physically feel Keeho deflating in front of you. “But… that doesn’t mean it can’t with time.”

Why were you telling him that - what purpose did it serve other than to give him hope?

Before you could think about it too much, you watched as Keeho smiled so wide that it looked like it almost hurt. One day you might feel bad for the emotional whiplash you were putting this boy through, but today was not that day.

“I can work with that.” The words barely left Keeho’s mouth before he was again on top of you, now holding himself up with his forearms on either side of you. He was caging you in now, the only sound between you two being both your slightly accelerated breathing.

Keeho didn’t waste anymore time, moving in to kiss you with what seemed like all the feeling he could muster. His tongue slipped past the seam of your lips and you granted him access easily, just as eager to taste him as he was you.

Your hands flew up, one landing on the side of his neck while the other cradled his face. Keeho let out a small mmph against your lips at the movement, the sound sweet to your ears. It had you wishing to hear more, to hear every kind of sound Keeho could make with his pretty mouth.

Your lips still moved in sync with each other as you felt one of Keeho’s hands traveling down. It flitted across your ribcage on its way to its destination, making you move ever so slightly underneath him.

Finally, Keeho reached what he was looking for, still kissing you the entire time he’d been searching with his hand. He had a fistful of the shirt now in his grasp, pulling it up some at the bottom.

“You wearing anything under here?” Keeho sounded out of breath as he playfully skimmed his fingers along the hem of your - his - shirt. “Or was your intention to drive me crazy guessing the whole time?”

“Seems like a good idea to find out, hm?” Giving back what Keeho was dishing out; this you could do. As long as that was where you drew the line and you didn’t get too involved or too attached, you could do this and not overthink it.

His hand started to travel underneath the shirt, the touch light but purposeful, and within moments he had one of your thighs shaking at the sensation. You wanted to cover your face once you saw Keeho’s smirk but in your current position that proved impossible. So instead, you turned your head as far to the side as you could, making him laugh at your stubbornness.

“C’mon, baby, don’t be that way. I love seeing the effect I have on you.” He placed kisses on your neck before continuing, going all the way up to your ear. “And besides,” he tugged on your earlobe with his teeth, “there’s no way you can’t already feel what you’re doing to me.”

You shuddered as Keeho ground himself against you so you could feel how hard he was. The movement also caused him to groan right beside your ear, clearly taking him by surprise.

“Fuck, ok I didn’t think that through at all but you get my point. Guess I just can’t think straight when you’re under me like this.”

If this man didn’t stop talking to you like this-

You needed to shift this more in your favor.

“What about if I’m on top of you instead?” You asked him so sweetly and the way his eyes briefly closed didn’t go unnoticed by you.

The way Keeho scrambled to lie flat next to you on the bed had you laughing. He didn’t give you long to collect yourself though before he was tugging on your arm to pull you up on him. You situated yourself to where you were straddling Keeho, his hands immediately falling to your waist as if he was afraid to let you go.

The large tent in his sweatpants was hard to miss. You wanted to tease him more since you were the one with the upper hand now, so you very lightly brushed against him. Keeho’s hands gripped you harder, and you weren’t sure if it was involuntary or more of a warning.

“Is this ok?” You had to check before going further; despite all the moves he’d been making on you that you’d been reciprocating, neither of you had actually mentioned moving past this point yet.

“Is this ok,” he echoed your question. “You’re asking me if this,” he squeezed your waist for emphasis, “is ok?”

You simply nodded, skin starting to feel hot from his touch even if it was still just through the shirt.

Keeho chuckled. “What kind of fucking question- of course it’s ok! If you’re good, I’m good. So,” he moved your hips for you, making you brush against him again, “shit, what’s it gonna be?”

You took his hands that were still wrapped around you and placed them under the shirt you were wearing, right above your hips. Before he could even register what happened you leaned forward, feeling him harden even more underneath you.

“Whatever you want,” was your response as you captured his mouth in a heated kiss. Keeho’s hands traveled up and splayed across your back, pulling you in as close as you could get. You rubbed against him from your current position - still straddling but bent over on top of him - and you felt as his fingers started curling against your back. It was almost like he wanted to scratch down your back but was thinking better of it.

The little noises he let out against your mouth were driving you insane. At some point all of your movement had shifted you downward somewhat, and soon enough you felt him right against your core. The sensation was a lot stronger than you were expecting since you both were still clothed, and you couldn’t help the blatant moan that escaped your lips.

“Fuck,” Keeho pulled away from kissing you so you both could catch your breath. “Need that, more of that please.”

“What - this?” You were still moving your hips so you made sure that the next sound you let out was right by his ear, completely uninhibited. Keeho jerked underneath you, making him rub right against your clit through the thin layers of clothing that separated you.

Keeho tugged on the bottom hem of the shirt. “Can I?”

You sat up so he had better access to remove your shirt, leaving you in only your bra and panties once he tossed it aside. The way his eyes widened dramatically caused a funny feeling to flutter through your chest. He looked you up and down, hands on your legs moving mindlessly as he did.

“Wow,” Keeho sounded stunned. You tried not to let it go to your head, even though your face was heating up. “So much better than in my dreams.”

That made you laugh. “Glad to know I exceed expectations.”

“I knew you would. You’ve always been the type to blow everyone away.” Keeho’s smile and praise were making your chest feel odd again, like your heart was trying to do flips.

“Can’t believe I get to see you like this,” he pulled you closer and placed a kiss right above your collarbone. “Feel you like this,” his hands were on your back again, this time sliding up to where your bra could be unlatched.

A quick raise of his eyebrow was enough for you to know what he was asking. You nodded and he went to work, having a little trouble with the hooks at first, making you giggle at his focused face.

“Let me,” you offered as you reached behind yourself and undid the hooks in one seamless motion.

“What the fuck, how did you do that,” Keeho just kept staring at you baffled as you slid the bra straps down your arms. “No, seriously, how is that possible?”

You shrugged as you were holding the bra up by its cups now, not ready to reveal to him just yet. “Years of practice. It’s really not that impressive.” Before Keeho could protest, you asked another question since your curiosity was now piqued. “Wait, have you- have you never seen someone do that before?”

Keeho looked like he was actually thinking back on it. “Well…not that I can remember. But I also haven’t ever paid that much attention before.”

“Your usual hook-ups aren’t like this?” Kind of a weird question for you to ask the man you were currently trying to hook up with, but what’s the harm in asking, right?

“My usual hook-ups aren’t you.”

Oh.

That’s-

“Oh,” was your brilliant response. Keeho just smiled.

“Are you done asking me about my previous sex life now, or is there more you want to know? Curious about my stroke game, maybe?”

“Why are you like this,” you groaned, making him laugh. One of his hands rested soothingly against your thigh as he waited for your next move.

“Dunno - but you love that I’m like this anyway, so clearly it’s working.”

Since you couldn’t really argue with that, it was time to continue your mission you’d started before embarking on this small side quest.

“I’m not about to be the only one topless here.” You had removed one of your hands to grab at his tank top but the other one was still holding your bra in place. “Gonna help me change that?”

With no hesitation, Keeho did the stupidly attractive thing that guys do when they pull their shirts off by reaching behind them. You were met with the sight of Keeho and his bare chest within a moment, and honestly you weren’t sure what amount of time you would’ve needed to prepare for it.

Keeho was fucking hot. Full stop. You’d be crazy to deny it, no matter how much you didn’t want to inflate his ego.

You must’ve been ogling at him because soon enough he hit you with a “Like what you see?”

That smirk of his was lethal if you looked too long, so you rolled your eyes instead and placed your hand on one of his pecs. As you started to drag your hand down, you noticed how the speed of his breathing increased.

“Sensitive much?” You lightly brushed against one of his nipples, his movement then answering your question.

“Y-yeah, maybe a little bit,” Keeho was trying not to crack. “Also how is this fair now?”

You knew he was referring to your bra, so you let it drop. Once your chest was free, Keeho wasted no time in cupping one of your breasts.

“Pretty,” he mumbled as he squeezed one, cocky smirk plastered on his face as he continued. “What was it you said earlier - that you’re a ‘hard one to please’? Why don’t we test that theory?”

He gently closed his mouth around one of your nipples, keeping his eyes on you the whole time. He flicked his tongue against it, making you almost cry out at the feeling. Your hands flew to his hair, tugging ever so slightly like you were trying to keep yourself grounded.

Keeho lapped his tongue around you a few more times and you started squirming in his lap. The way you were rubbing right up against him fueled you to try harder, each move pulling you closer to the point of no return. Your panties were soaked and clinging to you, meaning you could really feel him almost as much as you would if your last bit of clothing were gone.

“Kee- Keeho,” you moaned his name when you felt one of his hands brush against your inner thigh. The resulting grunt he let out had you moving faster in his lap, eager to coax more sounds out of him.

He pulled off of you then with a small pop, lips still wet with spit as he stared at you.

“Fuck, I was not ready for that, holy shit.” Keeho ran a hand through his hair, brushing it out of his face before it fell back into place. The black and blue strands were even more captivating up this close, with the warm light from the lamp washing over the both of you. “Never knew my name could sound so good coming from someone else.”

“You wanna see if you can make it happen again,” you taunted him as you placed both hands on his cheeks to pull him in for a kiss. You felt his smile against your lips, enjoying the peaceful moment before a spark of pleasure shot through you.

Keeho was grabbing a bit rougher at your breast now than he had before, brushing your nipple with his thumb while you kissed. “Don’t worry,” he added as his unoccupied hand started moving closer to where you wanted him most. “I have no doubt I can make you say my name again.”

He stopped at the edge of your underwear, silently asking you again with his eyes if he could continue. You gave him another nod, probably a bit too eager if his chuckle was anything to go by.

Instead of going up under the clothing like you expected he might, he stroked against the outside first, placing pressure amongst one of the wetter spots.

“Shit, can already tell that you’re soaked. Maybe I do have some game after all,” Keeho was egging you on as he placed more pressure and moved his fingers in a circular motion. Unfortunately for you, it was right on your clit, so the stimulation was overwhelming.

“I swear to god if you don’t stop talking about your game-” you cut yourself off with a moan.

“What was that,” Keeho’s tone was so hot, you couldn’t even be bothered about him teasing you this way. “I couldn’t hear you over how much game I have.”

“Keeho,” you whined out his name, starting to grow impatient. You almost thought you could feel him twitch underneath you, but that would’ve been hard to tell since he was still wearing sweatpants.

“There she is,” he said it like he was praising you for doing a good job on something. “My name sounds so pretty when it’s coming from you.” He trailed kisses down your neck, stopping once he got to your breast again. A devious smile before he gave your nipple another small flick with his tongue.

“Can’t wait to hear you scream it later,” was the only warning you got before Keeho started making you see stars.

He pushed your panties to the side and shoved two fingers into you from the jump, the slide easy because of how absolutely fucking drenched you were. His other arm closed around you, pulling you closer which in turn pushed his fingers further inside. That combined with the way he was ravishing your breast - sometimes even biting your nipple gently - had you approaching your high much faster than you’d like to admit.

How was this man making you fall apart with just two fingers and his tongue? You hadn’t even seen his dick yet and here you were, shaking and moaning in his lap like you had absolutely no control over it.

The power of Keeho, you guessed.

The way he curled his fingers inside of you had you trembling, sounds kept tumbling out of you and mingled with the ones you could barely hear coming from him.

“Kee- Kee, wait.” You hated to stop him but you refused to cum like this. You needed something more - even if you weren’t sure what it was that you needed.

Keeho stopped moving his fingers but kept them inside of you, making you clench around them. He pulled his mouth off of you and answered with a “Hm?”

“Don’t wanna cum so soon,” you were slightly breathless. The way his face lit up at your words made that feeling in your chest constrict again.

“Wha- already? Wow, I’m doing way better than I thought I would at this point.”

That got your attention. “How did you think you were going to do?”

Keeho opened his mouth, shut it, then paused before he opened it again. “I don’t know, I never thought I’d get this far.”

He didn’t give you long to ponder over the familiar quote before he slowly started pumping his fingers in and out again, this time adding a third one to the mix. You’d thankfully calmed down some but he’d have you at the brink again in no time if you didn’t stop him.

“Keeho-”

“I’m right here, baby. Need to know what you want me to do,” a rough kiss before he continued, “how you want me to make you cum.”

You were about to put a muzzle on this man if he didn’t stop saying things that made your heart beat at an irrationally fast pace.

“I don’t know, just- not like this. You pick,” you handed the control back over to Keeho before realizing what you’d just done.

“You sure you want that?”

You nodded, eyes shut as you clenched around his fingers again. He slowly pulled them all the way out, leaving you immediately missing the feeling of having him - well, a part of him - inside of you.

“I just want you,” your eyes opened again as you answered him with conviction. “You choose, Kee.”

Keeho gulped. For the first time that night, it looked like he was at a loss for words. Instead of offering you an answer, he chose to put his fingers in his mouth. Keeho closed his eyes as he tasted you, the sight mesmerizing as he appeared to get lost in it.

“Fuck, you taste so good. God,” he lowered his voice as his eyes travelled down to where you were now uncovered, “it would fucking drive me crazy if I had it all the time, I’m calling it now.”

The idea flashed through your mind for barely a second before you were shoving it down into the deepest crevices of your brain.

Did Keeho want to do this again? Furthermore, did he want to keep doing it? Was this really the good idea you thought it was before all of this started kicking off?

Keeho’s voice pulled you out of your nearly-started spiral.

“Hey, you good there?” He was waving one hand in front of your face. “Was it what I said?”

“No, I’m good. Just wasn’t expecting that.” You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but you weren’t sure if he believed it or not.

“Sorry, I get kinda stupid with the shit I say when I’m pussy drunk. But also - I meant every word.”

This man was going to be the death of you somehow.

You tried to change the subject. “Aren’t these pants uncomfortable?” You palmed at the bulge that was straining against the fabric, resulting in an immediate reaction from Keeho.

“Fuck, ha, I mean they’re not the most comfortable, if you wanna take ‘em off we can-”

You shimmied back some so you were more-so straddling his thighs instead of his lap. With one more nod from Keeho you started to pull his sweatpants down by tugging on the waistband. You thought you had at least another layer of clothing between you and his dick after that but surprise, surprise.

Keeho was going commando. The small gasp you let out made Keeho cover his face with his hands for a second as he groaned into them.

“Care to explain?”

“Ok look, I thought I was sleeping on my own so I decided fuck it, why not. And then when you asked me to stay with you, I never thought this of all things would happen so it’s not like- I definitely didn’t plan this if that’s what you’re asking-”

You wrapped a hand around him to get him to stop and he shut up instantly. The power of that move might’ve gone to your head a little bit.

It dawned on you then just how big Keeho was. Like - he was packing. Talk about exceeding expectations. You could fit your whole hand around him, but you felt the fullness when you started stroking him.

“Fuck, uh, ok uh, do you want to do this or-” Keeho’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. “I was trying to make you cum so like, don’t worry about me, ha.”

“Well I’m not going to be the only one cumming, I can assure you of that.” You picked up your pace a little bit, relishing in the moan Keeho let out.

“Fuck, fuck, ok. Ah-”

With every sound that escaped Keeho’s lips, you could feel yourself aching to be full again. For now, though: this was way more entertaining.

“You’re so sensitive,” you said it more to yourself than anything else, but Keeho still heard and scoffed as if to say ‘No shit.’

“Yeah, the girl I’ve had a crush on for who knows how long now has her hand wrapped around my dick, nothing to be sensitive about at all.”

Ouch. Your chest was doing the flippy thing again. You didn’t get a chance to respond before Keeho’s hand was wrapping around yours, making you stop your movement.

“Kee?”

“Can we, um- listen, you can totally say no, but I wanted to… try something.” Keeho was throbbing in your hand as he spoke, and you thought then that there probably wasn’t anything he’d suggest that you wouldn’t be down to at least consider.

“Depends on what it is, but probably yes.”

Keeho blinked in surprise. “Oh, shit. Well, wasn’t expecting that before I’ve even told you, but- ok, here goes. Can you move up a little for me?”

You did as he asked, now back in your original spot on his lap, his dick basically trapped under where you sat. He placed both hands on your hips and tried to move you forward some more. Confused, you went along with it until you were almost sitting on his chest.

“Keeho, what-”

He laughed, squeezing now at your thighs instead of your hips with how far he’d managed to push you up. “Was wondering how long it’d take before you figured it out.”

You had indeed not yet figured it out. “Okay…?”

Keeho smiled. “God, you’re adorable.”

His next response was not quite what you were expecting (although it definitely made sense in hindsight).

“Wanna sit on my face?”

“O-Oh,” was all you could think to say at the moment. “I mean… yes?”

“Sounds a little too much like a question rather than a confirmation for me. Need to know what you want, baby.”

There he was with the pet name again. His voice was comforting, though, and it gave you the courage to finally answer for real. “I want to try.”

Keeho grinned and you were so fond of this man. “Come on up here, then,” he patted the top of his chest, letting you know exactly where he wanted you to sit.

Face-sitting wasn’t something you’d ever really been super excited about. One, because you’d never really had an enthusiastic partner for that kind of activity before and two, the idea made you nervous. Do you sit down completely? Are you supposed to hover? What the fuck do you actually do-

“I can hear you overthinking from down here,” Keeho so helpfully supplied. “Once you’re up here, I’ll handle the rest.”

You trusted him. This was Keeho; he had no reason to lead you astray on this. Especially since it looked like he was vibrating enough with excitement from you even entertaining the idea in the first place.

You managed to get your soaked panties off without much trouble before you scooted closer to where he had indicated, hovering over him at first. Keeho gently lowered you down, wrapping his arms around the outside of your thighs once you were seated. His fingers were just barely able to touch your inner thighs from this angle, and you knew he would probably use that to his advantage if he could manage it.

“Hey, relax. Can feel how tense you are.” Keeho placed a kiss on the inside of your thigh that he could reach, the action making you shiver in his hold. “I do need you to come up a little more, though.”

“Are you sure?” The nervous tinge to your voice couldn’t be helped.

“Yes, baby. How else am I gonna get to taste you properly if I can’t get my mouth on you?”

You took a deep breath before moving again. Your thighs were caging in Keeho’s head now, and the gaze he held was absolutely predatory. This man looked like he wanted to devour you and you just might fucking let him.

If this was the only night that you could have with Keeho this way, you’d better make it count.

“Let me know if you wanna stop at any time.” Keeho gave you one last sweet smile before his tongue slipped past your folds.

Now, you weren’t expecting to be disappointed by any means - Keeho was clearly skilled if he’d suggest something like this. You anticipated it would feel good and maybe change your opinion on the whole act itself.

What you didn’t expect was for Keeho to have you shaking on top of him in less than a minute. Every single reaction your body was having, he knew just how to counter it.

Didn’t know what to do with your hands? Keeho placed them in his hair, even tugging a little for you so you knew he didn’t mind. Didn’t want your hips to move too much and cause you to shift too far up? Keeho had you, making sure you stayed in place where you could still grind against him without moving too far. The way he ravaged you had you falling apart in the best way possible, and his commentary didn’t do much to help that either.

“Taste so fucking good,” Keeho spoke in between licks, making sure to not to deprive you of him for too long. “My dreams were never as good as this, shit.”

“You’ve - fuck - dreamt about this?” Your hands were twisted in his hair, each tug pulling a soft moan from him underneath you, and you could feel the sound against your core.

“I’ve had dreams of you doing so many things that it’s actually a little embarrassing,” his words were slightly muffled but you got the gist. “So: I’m pleading the fifth on that one.”

Your laughter that started quickly formed into a sharp gasp. Keeho’s tongue was now inside of you. You could feel him tracing it along your walls where he could reach, not even daring to look down and see how close to you this had made him. It felt like he was leaving handprints on your thighs now from how hard he was gripping you.

You chanced looking down to see if your suspicion was correct and nearly came on the spot. Keeho’s fingers were holding onto you so fiercely that marks had already started forming.

Looking at his face proved to be even more lethal: Keeho looked like he wanted to consume you, to eat you whole. His siren eyes burned into yours, holding your stare while he left you craving more. You saw as he made a show of showing you his tongue before he started focusing on your clit.

“Keeho, fuck, Kee-” you were full on grinding against him now, his tongue flicking your clit at a faster pace after your reaction. One of your hands left his hair to be placed on the wall in front of you; you didn’t trust your legs not to give out any second now, so you needed all the stability you could get.

“That’s it, baby,” Keeho’s breath sounded labored as he spoke. “Keep going. Use me, make yourself feel good.”

Holy shit, the mouth on this man - both verbally and physically. You couldn’t tell which one was able to fuck you up more when he was using both tactics at the same time.

Everything continued the same way for a bit with Keeho alternating between his tongue tricks. At one point, though, he took you by surprise by biting down on the inside of your thigh.

“Fuck!” Your eyes had been closed at that point so you quickly looked down to see what the hell had gotten into him. The bite didn’t hurt really, but it definitely caught you off guard.

He was smiling, lips and chin absolutely covered. “Wanted to see you,” was his simple response. “You haven’t looked at me in a while, need to know I’m still doing good.”

“Fuck, so good, feels so fucking good, Kee,” you wanted to reassure him, but the absolutely heavenly moan he let out in response gave you a power trip like no other. You were still looking down at him, biting your bottom lip now to try and stifle your own sounds so you could hear more from him.

Apparently you didn’t have to wait long, because soon enough Keeho started getting louder. You could feel each one of noises against you as he tried to continue licking your clit. His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyelids kept fluttering shut before he attempted to train his eyes on you again. It looked like he was losing a little bit of his rhythm - it still felt fucking otherworldly (no, you were not down bad, not at all) but there was definitely a slight hitch in his motions.

Then you were able to pinpoint the reason why. One of Keeho’s hands was missing from its rightful place on your thigh, and you could feel movement from behind you that you hadn’t noticed before. You turned your head as much as possible to see that Keeho was jerking himself off at the same time as he was eating you out. Your hand that was still twisted in his hair gripped harder, making him groan and start to stroke himself faster.

“Oh fuck.” Something about that entire scene was enough to almost throw you over the edge. You were shaking so much now that you were a little shocked Keeho hadn’t asked you to hop off his face yet. If anything, you spurred him on to press himself closer to you, adding more force with his tongue and a pressure to your clit that hadn’t been there before.

The new pressure, his noises rising in pitch, and his continued staring at you like he wanted to wreck you was what finally got you there, too fast for you to even try and give him a warning. All you could do was moan out his name, relishing in the way his eyes rolled back at the sound.

He kept up his ministrations throughout your orgasm, only stopping when you whined from the sensitivity. You tried to move away from his face but his hand that was still holding onto you grabbed your leg harder.

“Please, fuck, don’t-” Keeho gasped, still stroking himself. “Don’t move yet. Just- stay here.”

“But you haven’t-”

“I know, ah, it won’t take long now though. Especially seeing you,” he broke off to moan and kick his head back, “like this.”

You thought about it and almost gave in to what he wanted, but you wanted to do more than just sit there and let him continue to do the majority of the work.

“Kee?”

“Shit- yeah?” His fingers were digging in the flesh of your thigh, the feeling still somewhat managing to arouse you after you were still coming down from before.

“Let me help. Please?”

“God, not the begging- you are helping, way more than you think. You don’t need to do anything else, baby.” Keeho smiled from underneath you.

“But what if I want to do something else,” you tried using your most seductive tone, hoping it wasn’t too much. Keeho didn’t seem put off by it in the slightest, so you kept going.

“Ha, well, I’d probably let you do whatever you wanted to be honest.”

You filed that info away for later - if there ever was a later.

“What if I wanted to suck you off instead?”

Keeho stared at you like you’d grown another head.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard that right- you wanna do what?”

You giggled. “Gonna let me make you feel good, Kee?” You accentuated your words by sticking your tongue out at the end. His eyes widened when he finally seemed to get it.

“Oh what the fuck- yeah, no, that’s uh, sounds great actually.” Keeho was panting in between every few words, clearly close but still holding on. Which was great for you, because if you didn’t get this man’s dick in your mouth soon, you were probably going to scream.

Keeho helped you lift yourself off of him, being careful to not fall as you moved down the bed since your legs were still wobbly. You pulled his sweatpants the rest of the way off, letting Keeho watch you as he continued getting himself off.

As you settled yourself in between his legs, you wanted to tease him a little bit. You gently stroked along the inside of one of his thighs, mostly because you wanted to see if it’d make him squirm, but also as a little payback for what your own thighs had been through. “How’s this, Kee?”

The reaction was immediate, his thighs tensing under your touch. “It’s, uh, yeah.”

“Let me know if you wanna stop at any time,” you repeated his words from earlier as you took him into your own hand again, moving his away. It landed limply beside him on the bed, but you wagered that soon it would be occupied with something else.

You wasted no time in running your tongue along his cock, taking notice of which places seemed to be most sensitive (luckily for you: the answer was all of it). Once you finally wrapped your lips around him, Keeho let out a punched sound that turned into a groan.

“I’m not gonna last long at all, shit.” Keeho tried to look at you but his head was immediately falling back onto the pillow. “Can’t look at you, really fucking want to, but I wanna last longer than 5 seconds.”

“That’s ok, baby,” you tried out the pet name on him this time, loving the way he twitched in your hand. “Do what feels best.”

“Fuck, uh- are you sure?” Since you didn’t have your mouth back on him yet, he chanced looking down at you again. He fared a little better this time but not by much. “I can sometimes get kinda, uh, carried away.”

“As in…?” You wanted him to be the one to say it. You wanted him to tell you what he wanted, or better yet, show you what he wanted.

Keeho got the hint, finally placing one of his hands in your hair. He gave it a small tug, almost experimentally, and smirked at the small gasp you let out.

His other hand wove its way into your hair, and you felt him twitch again.

“You ready?” He looked like he was about to explode from holding himself back. You responded to him in the best way you could think of: you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue as much as you could.

Keeho’s eyes rolling back were the last thing you saw before he guided himself back into your mouth. His pace was fine at first, but it picked up in speed rather quickly, his hands tightening in your hair as he controlled everything that was happening.

“God, I can’t-” you heard him gulp for air, “can’t believe I’m actually doing this with you. To you.”

You moaned around him, the vibrations flowing through his cock and making him cry out in return. He started pushing you down further, making you gag now but never pushing too far for it to be a problem. Your throat constricting around him must have been what he needed to finally let go, because after that it was just unfiltered thoughts from then on.

“Look so fucking pretty like this, letting me- ah, letting me f-fuck your face.” One of his hands detangled from your hair so his thumb could brush across your cheek, catching a tear you hadn’t realized was falling down. “And you’re crying too, holy shit-”

If you had the energy you honestly probably would’ve tried getting yourself off again because seeing Keeho fall apart like this was one of the hottest things you’d ever seen. But you wanted to focus all your attention on Keeho. Nothing on the brain, just Keeho.

He moaned loudly when you hollowed your cheeks more around him. “Just wanna- ruin you, wanna wreck you for anybody else.”

Oh. Where was that coming from all of a sudden? And why did you like it so much?

“But I also, fuck, wanna take care of you.” A harsher thrust this time, making you gag hard enough to almost choke. The panic that seized you for the briefest of moments - you didn’t know if that’s what caused it, or if it was his words.

He wanted to take care of you? What the fuck did that even mean?

Before you had much time to contemplate it, Keeho started moaning more frequently, barely able to get full words out now as his high was approaching.

“Fuck, I’m- close. Close, so if you don’t want me to cum in your mouth, ha now’s the time to m-move.”

You squeezed his legs as if to encourage him to just let go. Your only goal right now was to swallow down everything this man was about to give you - moving was not on your list. Keeho’s hand that had left your hair was now gripping the bedsheet, making a flexing motion every few seconds like it wanted something different to hold onto.

In a daring moment of bravery, you reached up one of your hands to intertwine with his own. What you heard in the next few seconds would likely stick with you the rest of your life (and probably haunt your dreams very often).

The moment your fingers were laced with his, Keeho’s head snapped up and he looked at you with wild eyes before drifting his sight to where your hands connected. You gave his hand a light squeeze and that was it. The sound he let out was almost loud enough that you mildly worried about him getting a noise complaint, but you also decided you didn’t give a shit, not when he sounded like this.

“Ah, I’m cumming, oh my god, fuck,” was the only warning you got before warmth flooded your mouth. You tried your best to swallow everything, but there was so much that some unfortunately spilled out of your mouth. Keeho continued making noise throughout, a mixture of something that sounded like your name with the moans that you were now - slightly - used to.

You decided to spare the poor man and not push him to the brink of sensitivity like he’d done to you. Plus, you needed to get the rest of his cum down your throat so you had other matters to attend to.

When you were done cleaning your face of any remaining cum, you licked around your fingers to get every last drop. A soft ‘shit’ got your attention and you looked up to see Keeho staring at you.

He had managed to push himself up to where he was sitting now, back against the headboard. “That’s so hot, what the fuck.”

You giggled before shrugging. “Be a shame to let all that go to waste, don’t you think?”

“Uh, I can’t really think much of anything right now other than just ‘what the fuck,’” Keeho’s smile was a bit lopsided and he clearly looked like he was still recovering.

Against your better judgment, you crawled back up the bed to where you were beside Keeho. He gave you a confused look but his gaze softened when he saw you lifting one of his arms. You rested your cheek against his chest and his arm was around you. He started tracing soothing patterns on your arm as you shifted yourself to get comfortable.

You’d already crossed a major line - what was a little cuddling gonna do to make it worse?

Pushing that thought away with all the others you’d smacked into some other regions of your brain, you noticed when Keeho wrapped both arms around you, enveloping you in his warmth. You could’ve fallen asleep right then and there - had he not placed a kiss on the crown of your head.

“This ok?” His voice was low, soft. You wondered if you maybe even detected some nervousness.

“It’s nice,” you answered truthfully. You’d probably hate yourself in the morning, sure, but why try to cut this feeling short now? You finally allowed yourself to wonder what it would be like if you actually gave all this a chance.

The more you thought about it, though, the more you felt something akin to ice flowing through your veins. You felt frozen, stuck - like what you were doing now was wrong and should definitely not be happening. You made up your mind that once Keeho was asleep and you could move freely without waking him, you were getting the fuck out of there. You weren’t sure how long you’d been laying there before Keeho spoke up again.

“Hey,” he muttered, “I’m glad you stayed tonight.”

Another icy shard in your chest.

“And not just because - well, you know - but because I know you’re safe and not outside scared or freezing in the storm.”

“Me too,” you again answered him truthfully, because you meant every word. You were glad you stayed and you wanted to continue to stay. But all the alarm bells going off in your head were starting to win out over rational thinking.

You needed to get out of here. But you couldn’t leave now. Not when Keeho would know.

Not when he would know that you weren’t able to let yourself feel for him the same way he felt for you.

“Hey, Kee?” You somehow managed to talk around the lump in your throat.

“Hm?” He sounded like he was dozing, and you could tell from the slow way his chest was rising and falling that he was content.

“I’m not sure if I can sleep like this,” you lied. “Would it be ok for us to sleep how we were planning to in the beginning?”

“Yeah, whatever you want. As long as you’re comfortable.” That same lazy smile was waiting for you when Keeho lifted his arms. He helped you get back on your side of the bed (you weren’t going to think about the implications of that right now) and even got the blanket from earlier to drape over you again.

“Tea is still in there if you decide you want any,” Keeho yawned as he laid down and shimmied under some of the blanket so you both were sharing. “It’s not going anywhere, so just get some if you want. But also,” another yawn, “it’s not required during your stay.”

“When did this suddenly become a hotel,” you tried to joke, but it didn’t quite land. Thankfully, Keeho was too close to sleep to really notice. All you got from him was a soft chuckle before he breathed deeply.

“Goodnight. I’m right here if you need me.” Keeho told you this as he was turning to face the other way, probably trying to make sure you weren’t overwhelmed after everything that had just transpired.

“Goodnight,” you responded barely above a whisper. You almost didn’t breathe for the next few minutes, straining to listen for the moment that Keeho was sound asleep. After you heard him snoring softly, you waited a few minutes and started moving slowly toward the side of the bed. When you finally deemed it safe enough, you got up carefully and placed the blanket back down without causing too much movement. Keeho didn’t even budge, and the last look you threw his way was enough to plunge that icy dagger further into your heart.

You gathered up all your clothes as quietly as you could. As much as you hated putting your soaked clothing back on, the idea of staying in this apartment any longer made you feel worse. You ordered an Uber while you were trying to get back into all your clothing, thankful that there were still some running this late.

The doorknob leading out of the apartment felt cold underneath your hand when you went to turn it, the sound suddenly so loud in the otherwise peaceful, quiet room. You opened it without thinking too much more on it and closed it as softly as possible beside you. Once you were far enough away from the apartment, you just started running.

You needed to put as much distance between you and Keeho as possible, and luckily for you, your Uber pulled up right as you were making your way down the corridor that led outside. You got inside the car and inhaled shakily. The last thing you could think to do to try and put this behind you for now was take out your phone and send a single text to Keeho.

[you] 2:34 AM: i’m sorry.

i am also sorry, dear reader - there will be more to come for these two though! thank you so so much for reading, i hope you really enjoyed it~ 💜

(stormy divider used in this post is from HERE)

#piwontober24 #keeho x reader #keeho smut #p1harmony smut #p1harmony fluff #keeho fluff #keeho #p1harmony fanfic

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creelkobblelaufeyson69 · 1 year ago

Text

Out

Warnings: parents not accepting their child

Y/n looks out of her house that was small. She was on her couch, and on her knees looking outside. She wanted to go out there to run around the town, but her parents hated her being outside. Her parents had found out Y/n was into females and not males

They thought by locking her up inside, she’d become in their words ‘better’. She hadn’t changed her mind of what she liked, and never planned on changing just to please her parents. “Dear stop looking outside. You know you’re not allowed to stare out their” her mother says as she enters the living room

Y/n does as told, and sat down on the couch. Boredom consumed every part of her now. “But mother I just was admiring the outdoors” she says to her mother. Her mother scoffs in response, since she hadn’t believed her daughter one bit

“I don’t believe you! I know you were staring at women, dear. You really need to get your brain checked. Perhaps we’ll take you to the doctor! They can fix that crazy mind of yours” Y/n sighs, and says ‘yes mother.’ Her mother then informed her daughter that she was going out. “Your father should be home in a couple of hours. Do not leave this house, do you understand? You’ll be in a casket if you do” Y/n shook her head, and now her mother was gone

The silence was killing her as she could hear every creaking noise inside of the house. The wind breezing through each second didn’t help her either. She had at that moment decided to run off. Y/n had also decided she’d be better off then living with her parents. She walks towards the woods since her parents were never big fans of them

Y/n runs once in the woods. She took in the cool breeze, and swung her arms around. She was free now. She felt unstoppable now, and braver. She eventually tripped over a twig that was weirdly the shape of a finger. Y/n apologized to the branch, and gave it a little kiss. Of course she wasn’t gonna act ‘normal’, but she hadn’t been out in two months

Y/n felt as if she could do anything right now- including kissing another woman. She had sat down next to the finger looking branch, and looked at it. A blue butterfly comes over towards her. It lands onto her shoulder now. “Oh hello! Your quite beautiful” she compliments the butterfly

She had realized it was the only thing that was colorful in this gloomy grey town. Y/n hadn’t even noticed the branch had become a beautiful dead bride. “Oh, oops. That’s mine” the women says, which makes Y/n look at her. Y/n was aware the woman was dead, but god did she find her attractive regardless

The butterfly goes back to the dead bride, but was gone once it had touched her. “You make very beautiful butterflies. It’s so alive for such a dead town” Y/n says, which makes Emily thank her. “No problem” Emily takes her hand out for her to take. Y/n blushes, and takes it

Once Y/n was standing up again, she fully took in every detail of the woman before her. “You know people would normally be spooked when they see a dead person walking around. Your different. I like that” Y/n’s blush had become obvious now. “How kind, but it would be rude to be so frightened by such beauty” Y/n blurts out, which makes Emily smile

“Why thank you. I think I like you-“ “Y/n” she takes her hand out to shake. “Emily” Emily says as she shakes her hand back. Once they stopped shaking hands, Y/n was super red still and couldn’t get her blush to go away. “Your adorable when you blush by the way. Would you like to see the afterlife?” Y/n took the offer without hesitation

Soon they were both in the afterlife. Y/n looks around, and realizes how cool it had looked. “I wanna stay here. I hate where I’m at. My parents don’t accept me as a lesbian” Y/n says as she goes over to sit at one of the bar stools. Emily follows her, and sat down next to her

“Im sorry love. I’ll accept you, and you can definitely stay down here with me. I don’t mind the company, plus I’d loved to get to know you better” she says, which makes Y/n look at her with a smile on her face. Emily had looked at her now, and smiled now

#emily corpse bride x reader #corpse bride fanfiction #emily corpse bride #Corpse bride #helena bonham carter

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jodilin65 · 26 years ago

Text

TUESDAY, MARCH 31, 1998 I’d have just been woken up for damn sure if I were asleep. There’s this white caddy that began going by about a week ago at around 12:30. It plays its music really, really fucking loud. Even louder than next door’s ever played theirs. Once again, how did these things ever come to be legal? I can’t believe they’d allow something like this what with how they’re strict on a driver being able to hear sirens. Then again, with all the lonely, desperate, selfish, rude, sick fucks out there, I can believe anything. But why the need to get just anyone’s attention? If I were that lonely and desperate, I could see seeking the attention of a good love or of a good friend, but thousands of strangers? Why would I want to be noticed and acknowledged by them? This isn’t just an I-like-my-music-loud thing, either. It’s a definite I-want-to-be-heard obsession.

Later…

Tom got in about an hour ago. Soon he’ll be conking out.

I was doing my puzzle that’s in the living room before that room became anything but peaceful when the little animals arrived to play ball.

When Tom came in he saw two black women arrive next door quietly in a dark green car and right now the city bums are getting their carpet cleaned for nothing. I wish the city would come in to clean our carpet and pick up the tab, too.

So maybe this explains his going out at a time he’s usually in for the night, and his returning so late. Perhaps he was moving his shit out so his presence wouldn’t be discovered.

I wish it could be that they’re installing new carpet cuz the city’s fixing to sell that house, but nope, they’re getting it cleaned, and I don’t have any vibes of them moving.

It’ll take them a couple of hours to do their thing, I guess, then the carpet cleaning van will be moved and out of there in time for today’s two-hour ball game.

I take that back. The van just left. That was awfully quick. Maybe one of them puked their guts out on one area of the carpet and they were just cleaning that.

Anyway, most kids are out of school now, so the ball game will begin any minute. The later the better, though, cuz then there aren’t as many hours till sundown. Don’t these kids have homework to do or dinner to eat after school?

Oh, I went out last night and gave them a good 60 seconds or so of pot cover clanking, but if they heard it, I don’t know.

Later…

Oh, my fucking God! I cannot believe how bad and out of control this stereo shit has gotten. That’s gotta be at least the 6th fucking stereo to go banging by today. I think we’re looking at having to get my stereo into the bedroom to add its bass beats to the ones outside, on top of the fan and sound machine. Tom said they haven’t woken me up yet. But they will. At this rate, they surely will, so why wait for it to happen? And my stereo’s gonna have to be cranked up pretty loud itself to match or override the sick fucks cruising by. And how many of these sick fucks would turn their music down when passing through if they were asked? None. Absolutely none. They’d laugh and say they didn’t give a fuck. They want it to bother people. Not just for people to hear it, but to be bothered by it, too.

I knew there’d come a time, too, that God would start compensating me for being able to sleep so much better since late ‘93 or so. And that he certainly wouldn’t compensate the peace with a child of my own. Nope. It’s gotta be other people’s kids, dogs, stereos, etc.

Later…

Blackie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it! I was out there guarding them from mama bitch while they ate, and was sipping on coffee. Once I got down to the last few swallows, I was all coffeed out, so I threw the rest right as Blackie ran into it. Oops. Well, at least it’ll be tasty for her when she goes to lick herself clean.

For the first time in ages, I changed things around as far as colors go on the computer. It’s so-so.

To my utter amazement, there was no ball game today.

Once again, is he in the process of moving out or what? He just slammed in, and he’s not done yet! He’s usually in for the night around now, but he’s going out again. So, I guess he’ll slam doors on and off till 11:00 just like last night, huh? And my vibe/theory was right - no ball game, but more stereos. Just like the freeloaders slam doors more often if they’re not gonna do the music thing.

Let me back up a bit here. As I think I said, it wasn’t in for the night when it usually is last night. It left again at 8:30 and didn’t return till 11:00.

Shortly after the carpet people left earlier, like close to 5:00, he pulled in and I could hear kids and adults. On and off, no one could’ve played ball if they wanted to, cuz the car was in the way. I put my ear to the door and heard a kid say hi to one of the adult male freeloaders and he said hi back. This kid was probably from where the guard dogs are. They’re always out and about. I don’t think I heard the bitch, and don’t know who the male freeloader was for sure. Could’ve been Mike and the teenage boy, but one of them sounded older. All I made out was, “they close” and “open tomorrow night” and a few other things I can’t remember. Something about meeting or being somewhere at 10:00, and that’s about it.

They talked for about 10 minutes, he then split, then returned a while ago. And he came out to slam doors, too, so I’m sort of hoping he is really packing shit (along with trying to irk me). As I was trying to make out their conversation, I picked up the feeling that something’s going on, but can’t say for sure. If he is fixing to go anywhere, I know it’ll just be for a week. That still doesn’t mean he won’t be around on weekends or gone for too long.

Well, as I’m hanging out reading and writing, I’ll fill you in on whatever else I hear.

Later…

The freeloader left just a few minutes ago unless he just came out to slam the door or pack something or both.

Meanwhile, these fucking cats just won’t leave me alone at night! They’re so distracting. I swear, I’ll starve these things for a few days if they don’t get off my case! The only problem with that, though, is that if I starve them, they won’t let Bunny eat. They chase him off when I serve him food so he can’t eat.

I just made a small change within the mice’s multi-part home. I have them about 4’ from the computer. I made them a ramp that leads to up top of the monitor. So now they can come see me when I type. They’re sleeping in tonight, though. No one’s up yet.

Later…

I think the freeloader just came in, so I’ll have to listen to him slam shit around for a couple of hours.

MONDAY, MARCH 30, 1998 Lisa called earlier. She got expelled for calling her teacher an anorexic bitch. She also denies she’s smoking. She said she tried it again and hated it, so she’s chewing gum like crazy. I don’t know if she’s telling the truth or not, but it’s her life.

She said she wants to please her mom, but can’t, so she has suicidal thoughts at times.

She said she and Jen were looking at a picture of me insisting I was pretty and skinny. Well, they’d both be very disappointed if they saw their aunt now, who’s a good 20 pounds heavier than she was in the picture she was talking about.

This will be her first and probably last time she can ever laugh at me and rub her weather into me, seeing that they’re now actually warmer than us. They’re having a record high in the 80s and here it’s barely 70º cuz of the storms.

Later…

I fucking knew it! I just fucking knew it! I was right with what my vibes told me, and I will have to listen to them play ball every day. Tom says they’re connected with them. Well, whether or not they’re associates of the freeloaders or not, I’m sure Miss Bitch had a talk with these little ballplayers and asked them to play daily on account of me. As soon as they heard about my city letter. They just gotta do something. They are so fucking obsessed with me. They are so desperate and want so desperately for me to hear them. Well, come 2 AM, they’re gonna hear me clanking pot covers together.

I can’t seem to budge from just under 125 pounds, but like I said, I know I never will regardless of what I do, so I’m back to eating whatever I want whenever I want.

Later…

After an hour and a half, the ball game finally ended. Damn, how I wish that lock fit that net! They’d just go do something else, though, or replace the net entirely. Fucking, fucking freeloaders, man! God, I hate them! And today’s one of those days I love, cuz I ask myself, “Why would you want to have something you can’t handle? (a kid) Why bring more noise and chaos into your life? Why lose yet even more time with Tom?”

Anyway, the freeloader was on his door-slamming spree, so the letter didn’t boot him out of here. At least the music’s been quiet until it becomes a problem again, and I know it will sooner or later. And yes, ball games and door slams are better than music and can be drowned out, but these naughty freeloaders still aren’t gonna get any sleep tonight. Oh, no Siree! At around 2 AM I’ll be giving them a wake-up call. They’re still gonna have to realize that making noise, means getting woken up if they’ve even got the brains to put two and two together. Tom’s right - they don’t mind noise, but I’m sure they’d mind getting woken up. If I only knew for sure that they were getting woken up, too! God, I hope so! Please let this wake them up. I mean, it’s just a few feet from their living room window, the bedroom’s right off of that, and the carport/block wall amplifies the sound, so how can they not? Could they sleep that soundly? I hope not. I sure as hell hope they do get woken up. Leave it to God, though, to protect them from me late at night. Only they can do shit to me, remember?

We got Tweety a new cuttlebone.

Another organization asking for money that claims they save animals when they really use the money to put animals to sleep, sent me some address labels, stickers, and 4 so-so animal cards. I’m using them for Mother’s and Father’s Day, my mom’s birthday, and Becky’s, too. Mom will be getting some Mother’s Day confetti – hee, hee! All the pretty colorful little bits of paper that were punched out when I was binding my proofreading papers, will be in her card, so when she pulls the card out, what a mess!

Even though it’s not in my cards to lose weight, I’m proud of myself for eating less and less. I’m not so hungry every second of the day as I was during the first few months of not smoking. I know my metabolism’s too slow to lose weight and that God surely won’t speed it up, but maybe in June when it’s really hot and I’m in the pool a lot, I’ll lose a few pounds. Perhaps I’ll get into the 110s, if not to 100. All I had to eat today was some popcorn and some soup. I had a few Cheetos, too, but that’s it. You could say a part of it is my rebelling against God, too. If he’s gonna be so into body control, I may as well join in.

It’s now at the point where you can hear stereos every day. Before long, they’ll be every 5 minutes. However, today there were only two that I knew of. Perhaps that’s in exchange for the long ball game? We’ll see when they come to play ball again for 1-2 hours tomorrow.

We screwed around earlier and that was the usual. I came, he didn’t. He said he always has a hard time after we don’t do it for a while. Well, does he want to? I mean, I know we can’t help our schedules and busyness, but if this is true and not just another excuse, maybe he ensures our not having sex that often to ensure not cumming as much. Me? I’m still content to do it once every week or two. I still have that goddamn irritation, too, but God will be God now, won’t he? What if we do undergo testing? I know you can’t fight God and win and no child is in our destiny, but how are they gonna test him? They can’t just take sperm from a guy, the guy has to give it. When I learned this I was like, oh great! If he won’t let his wife have his cum, he’s certainly not going to let a doctor have it. There’s no way in hell he can squirt on command in a cup. God’s really stacked all the odds against me that he could. Why couldn’t he just leave our sex lives alone? Couldn’t he just let that be normal? But no, he had to go add insult to injury as if defective plumbing and all the other shit I’ve been through isn’t enough. How much more different can he make me? How much more can he punish me?

From now on Tom’s not going to work till 1:30 AM. He’ll get in around noon - 1 PM. He has to stop at our other house on his way home. Fortunately, it’s on his way, though.

I’m a bit ticked at Mary. Just cuz she has to feel superior to someone, Tom has to be the one to do their work for them. I always thought Mary and Dave were an odd couple. Most couples tend to be alike since the same types attract. Dave, who’s incompetent and can’t do shit on cars or houses, was always someone I pictured a person like Mary to look down on and to feel that they’re not good enough for her. According to Tom, though, Mary likes that. She likes to feel superior.

Later…

That stupid fuck! That freeloader has been slamming doors on and off all fucking night. It slammed out at the unusual hour of about 9:00 and I had hoped that it was loading up its car cuz it was moving out little by little, but it just slammed back in. Do these freeloaders realize how obvious they are? I know that if they don’t do the music scene, they’ll slam doors and vice versa, but why are they so obsessed with me and desperately wanting to be heard by me?! Weird. Real fucking weird. Maybe the freeloader really is moving, although I don’t sense it. I told you when my feeling of them moving, or one of them moving, around the New Year faded, and I was right. I have excellent accuracy when it comes to vibing out some things, like the freeloader, our sex lives, the kid issue, etc. I tell you, no one’s this paranoid. I have to have my suspicions about Tom not wanting a kid for a reason. If his conscience isn’t saying he doesn’t want a kid, then his subconscious is. Anyway, when it comes to the freeloader, I’m never wrong. Almost never, anyhow. Aside from the constant ball games that’ll probably run into June, things will be pretty much the same till around May, then I’m sure they’ll be a problem again with music. They’ll probably be out and about yelling and partying, too, since they love it when it’s hot. They may get a dog too, around the month of June. I still have a “change” feeling for September, but we’ll have to get closer and closer to September to see if the vibe sticks or fades. If we’ve only got a year left here, then I hope they do just stay there as much as I hate their fucking guts, cuz then retaliation will be so much easier. If they went first, though, they could come back, do something to the house, then split. But if we go first, then I’ve got the advantage.

SUNDAY, MARCH 29, 1998 Yup, something doesn’t want us screwing around, that’s for sure. I didn’t realize I was gonna sleep in so late today, but I did. So, instead of playing around, Tom’s now napping till he has to go to work.

He said we’ll get together tomorrow and there should be no excuse. Meaning, according to him, he sees a pattern. He says that every time we make a date, I sleep in and he ends up being too tired. Well, if there is a pattern, I’m not doing this intentionally. Tomorrow will be no problem, though.

I also told him that since we agree I should do something about getting what I want, rather than just bitching about it, we should make a date to get together from the 5th - 11th. The only thing is that there’s no way in hell we can screw every day or that he’ll cum more than one day in a row. If we could get together every day during those days and if he could squirt, I should be pregnant and I shouldn’t get a period, but since I know I will (at some point) then I’ll just mention this and how we’ve been trying for years to the doctor to no avail.

Evie has become such a pest. I got 4 messages from her yesterday. She’s really starting to smother me. She goes on and on about shit that either bores the hell out of me or that I can’t relate to. Again, forgive me for sounding like Dureen.

Andy got fired yet again. Jesus! He said 3 gay guys got him fired and that he swears he was just being friendly but they took it the wrong way and got him canned. He said if he sees them in the bar, he’ll tell them they got him fired and ask them, “Does it make you feel better? Do you sleep well at night?”

Yes, there are a lot of stupid people in this world and most people do take things all wrong, but isn’t it about time Andy looked in the mirror? Maybe, just maybe, it’s something about the way he presents himself.

Later…

No outside activities my ass! Just when I thought this cold, rainy, dreary day would keep things quiet around here, out comes trouble. Not with the freeloader, but with some white boys playing ball. They played for an hour but may be back to play more till sundown. Adults may not do stuff outside in yucky weather, but kids do. It’s better than music, though, and it can be drowned out.

These kids woke poor Tom up who’s usually able to sleep through anything. From now on, though, when he sleeps in the bedroom, he should use the fan, rather than the sound machine (I use both) cuz the fan will drown it out. People with houses this close, shouldn’t have basketball hoops!

As expected, I got a full flow today. Did one of his fishies get up there and start a baby, and was that a miscarriage? Or was there some other reason why my period was so screwy? And it’s weird too, cuz when I had that other weird experience in 1996, I felt I’d have another strange period in 1998. I wouldn’t be surprised if I did every couple of years. Guess the year 2000 will be the next wacky period.

Later…

My favorite time - sundown on Sunday. Meanwhile, God continued to see me harassed by other people’s kids. It’s like he’s said, “First I’ll tease you with thinking that maybe, just maybe, I’m finally gonna let you have your own, but nope, it’s other people’s kids I want you dealing with.” They played from around 4:00-5:00, then again at 6:30 for about 20 minutes. Tom thinks that these kids are associated with next door and not neighborhood kids wandering by to use the hoop. Yeah, that’s something she would do, too, is bring other people’s kids over to badger me. And I’m sure this will become an every weekend event. Before I know it, kids will be popping over every day after school, too, to play ball.

Is God trying to tell me he wants me to work with kids, as well as care for animals? Kids have been shoved in my face over the last several years so much, that there’s got to be a reason for it. Could he possibly be telling me to fight for and to pay for a child of my own? No. He knows I could never handle a child and he’ll block me from ever having a child under any circumstances, no matter what it takes.

Him and his fucking control, though, and making me pay for this and pay for that. Hell, I’ve got to pay for breathing! Now his latest kick is to make me sick when I try to diet by way of having shakes. First they bothered my lower stomach by making me gassy. Then I got those Lactaid things and just when I thought I’d be OK (he loves to tease me and make me at least think things will be OK and that I’ve found a way around an obstacle) now I can’t even have shakes with the Lactaid cuz I feel so nauseous if I do. The last time I came within inches of puking. So, he doesn’t want me losing weight, I can’t lose weight, I’m not going to lose weight, and that’s that. I have to be fat as long as I’m given the right to breathe.

Later…

Now it fucking rains. About two hours after the ballplayers split, it comes down. Why couldn’t it have rained earlier? It did rain earlier, but then it stopped. It feels like this is the coldest winter since I’ve been here and like it’s never gonna end.

Another weekend message from Andy. I tell him I’ll call him tomorrow and what’s he do? This guy is so damn lonely. He just has nothing but his phone. He tells me he talked to his folks who said they’d let him live with them for a while if he wanted, and that he wants to get together with Steve in Enfield Connecticut cuz he’s so lonely and needs love in his life. I know he won’t move. I sort of wish he would so he wouldn’t pester me as much, but he won’t. No way in hell will he give up this warmer climate and go back and deal with all the cold, snow, ice, rain and humidity over some dick. It’s really sad, though, to see him this desperate. And he’s even naïve and immature, too, about this Steve character. This is someone he once met in a bar and who he hasn’t seen in years. So what makes him think he’s gonna be there for him and that he’s gonna love him and be faithful and all that? And why won’t our merciless God give him a break? Can’t he just send him a good guy and get him off my case and make him happy? Although, he’d still live on the phone if he had a guy. He’d have to call to tell me every single detail of their sex together, and he’d probably get a guy who also loved to live on phones. Like I said, though, he won’t leave Phoenix.

SATURDAY, MARCH 28, 1998 The freeloader did stay the night last night as I figured he would, cuz he slammed his way out at 10 AM for the first of his many weekend trips.

So far the cloudy and cool weather is in my favor and hopefully, there’ll be no outside activities.

Later…

Today was a shitty day, but it’s getting better. It has nothing to do with the freeloader, though. This weather will keep them indoors and quiet.

Tom still doesn’t feel well. He’s very congested. I just wish I knew why he gets so many colds. Is it just God adding another thing to keep us from spending much time together? Tom says he works in an enclosed environment so colds do circulate.

I’ve now stepped up to being in between spots and a very light flow. Tomorrow I’ll have a full flow for sure. Tom says it’s normal for a woman to have erratic periods. Well, this sure is bizarre for me. I’ve never been a week late.

Also, I have so many mixed emotions about this baby/sterility thing. With the infrequent sex and the DES, and a God who doesn’t give a shit, I’ll never have a kid. I have mixed emotions about everything revolving around it. I don’t feel the need or the want for sex more often than once a week, but it’d help if you were trying to get pregnant. Also, it’d help if he’d get off more, but he just won’t do that. So there’s the fact that we can’t have sex too often cuz of our schedules and busy lives, then there’s the fact that he rarely cums, then there’s the DES, God’s unwillingness to help. There’s no way I could ever have a child. A part of me still feels I shouldn’t have a child after seeing what Larry, Tammy, and others go through what they go through, and knowing how hectic and tiring it is. And how would I ever be able to handle it in the first place? And I feel like - if something up there’s so bent on punishing me and controlling my body, I ought to go right along with it and not do anything about my problem by seeing a doctor, and I ought to control my body, too, by not eating or something like that. I’m sick of having my life decided for me. I’m sick of having no say in personal matters. Or with most matters that concern me, actually. And people say life is what you make it? Well, I wanted to make my life as a mother, as well as a wife, and I can’t do that.

I try to tell myself to make myself feel better, and so as to feel less afraid of this controlling outer source that could do this to a woman, that it’s all for the better. That whatever’s up there is just looking out for me and not giving me something I couldn’t handle. I’m probably right when I say that God’s denied me a child due to his belief that I could never handle it, etc., but what about my right to choose? It should still be up to me. And what if I’m wrong? What if I wouldn’t be swapping one misery for another by having a child? What if I could handle it? What if I’m really missing out here by not seeking help?

Tom was encouraging me earlier, saying that instead of complaining about it, I should do something about it. Well, I am. I’m finally gonna put my foot down and risk God retaliating for my going against his plans for me. I know a child isn’t at the end here, and that a doctor can’t help me, but no more putting off going to a doctor and having that doctor tell me it’s hopeless. I’ll go through the hassle, I’ll take the time, the testing, etc. Instead of sitting on my ass and telling myself why I shouldn’t want/have a kid, and telling myself I can’t fight God and win, I’ll just go let a doctor tell me that. Let a doctor tell me there’s nothing they can do. That’s the only way I’m gonna know for sure if I really truly am right about my theories about God and the condition of my female parts.

God, or this evil, controlling, non-empathetic thing may not let me win in the end when it comes to my biggest dreams, whether they were past dreams, present ones, or future ones, but I’m not gonna let it win either. I will fight for a child until I either get that child or am told by an expert that I can’t have one.

Yesterday there was a letter that came from Colorado. It was from a girl to a guy, and naturally, this girl’s gonna get some pretty strange mail from this guy. A whole 6 pages of wacky stuff. I grabbed and copied a few pages from the Oswego St. file and mixed it up a bit.

Anyway, it’s off to listen to music, read some of my library book, and do some proofreading.

FRIDAY, MARCH 27, 1998 Still no period. What is wrong? Well, Tom still insists nothing’s wrong. I hope he’s right!

Yesterday and today my stomach was a little off. I was slightly nauseous yesterday and today it’s like old times with the hunger. I woke up really hungry and had to eat right away. After having a big serving of tuna noodle casserole, I’m still hungry. I was right about my weight going back up, too. Instead of waking up at 123-124, I woke up at 125.

Tammy’s doing awful, as usual. Just when it looked like things would shape up for her so she could finally have some happiness. At first she said she wasn’t gonna say anything, to protect herself, and that she didn’t know who she could trust.

Again she asked me if I mentioned Mark to Mom and Dad. She said Larry mentioned to them that I mentioned Mark. Well, I did say that I was glad she got the negative influence out of her life and that I was happy for her due to her new “friend.” I didn’t mention Mark in detail, cuz I figured she already had. I knew she was so happy about him that I figured she’d be jumping to tell anyone she could about him. And also, it wasn’t my place to. If Larry interpreted in my letter to him that I was implying she was having a full-blown relationship and if I am indirectly to blame for some of the mess she’s in, I’m very sorry.

Meanwhile, if she’s got so many problems with the things Larry and our parents are saying, she shouldn’t be associating with them. It’s her life and body to do as she pleases and she shouldn’t have to answer to or defend herself to anyone. She should also stop worrying about what others think of her, her life, her body, etc. And I’m also pissed off that cuz of Larry and mom and dad, she doesn’t even know if she can trust me. I thought both Tammy and I learned years ago that we could confide in each other and trust each other, but now, I know she can trust me, but she doesn’t, thanks to people’s big mouths.

I don’t blame Larry for casually mentioning Mark to Mom and Dad, but I think what he told Lisa was just awful. And I believe Tammy, too, when she says what he said. Larry told Lisa that Tammy made a call to Sandy, saying she was a detective, who saw Larry with some woman at a hotel. Tammy denies doing this, and I certainly didn’t, so perhaps it was Michelle. After I kicked Michelle out, she went to Larry and Sandy’s till Sandy kicked her out, so maybe she did it out of spite. If Larry didn’t make this up to Lisa, and I would say he didn’t, then Michelle would be the most likely one to have done this.

Larry also told Lisa things about Texas that Tammy didn’t want her to know until she was completely an adult. Then she said Lisa was responsible too, for asking Larry questions.

Tammy’s pissed that Larry has the nerve to say that she goes from man to man when he’s been notorious for being a slut. And he’s admitted it, too.

Tammy also said that if this is what family’s all about, she doesn’t want any part in it. I don’t blame her for how she feels. It’s her life and she should be able to live it how she wants and people shouldn’t be judging others. Especially when it’s people that are guilty of enough shit themselves. And that’s really, really low of Larry to have told Lisa stuff that she shouldn’t be involved in or is too young to know and understand.

I’m not gonna get involved and let them know Tammy and I spoke, cuz that’d just cause more trouble, but from now on, I’ll really watch what I tell Larry or anyone.

Later…

Awesome! I’m not gonna get my hopes up here, but no wonder I haven’t heard door-slamming lately. Tom says that for just about all week, there hasn’t been a car next door. Maybe, just maybe, it’s cuz of the letter, and maybe that’s why that white car came in quietly. Something it doesn’t usually do.

On the other hand, he may very well spend weekends here in regard to me and cuz they’re not gonna check to see if he’s there on a weekend.

Later…

So much for telling myself that this could be a peaceful weekend and one with the least stress I’ve had in a long time. The freeloader just came in for lunch. The music was fairly soft, but once again, I shouldn’t have to know when he’s coming and going and I told them that, too. I don’t want to know that they exist. So, he’ll be around for the weekend for sure. I’m sure that his not being here over the last few days wasn’t related to the letter after all and that he’s back to stay.

Well, maybe the freeloaders won’t act up or party this weekend since they say another Pacific storm’s gonna sweep through. It’ll be damp, rainy, cloudy, and cool.

Later…

Thank you, thank you, God! That isn’t the freeloader’s car that’s parked out front there. At least I don’t think it is. It’s that big white caddy that usually comes banging in. I think it is, anyway. At least it didn’t come in so incredibly loud. I didn’t hear her get picked up this morning, so maybe she’s there today and whoever owns this car is visiting her.

Please, God, keep him away and keep them as quiet as they have been lately! Especially if there was a remote, miraculous chance I was pregnant. It’s one thing to be stressed out and anxious as you await your first kid, while you feel overwhelmed and have a million questions, but to have the added stress of a pack of rude, selfish freeloaders, is another thing.

I told Tom it was too bad this having no period couldn’t be due to a kid and he said he was sorry I felt that way. I don’t know if he meant he was sorry I wished it could be due to a kid, or if he meant he was sorry I felt it couldn’t be due to a kid, but he did say he wants a family whenever and wherever we are. That’s sweet of him, but I still think something else is going on here, and still believe I’ll get a period. Meanwhile, instead of dwelling on it, I’ll just wait and see what happens next.

Later…

Whoever this freeloader is, hasn’t left yet, but it came out to slam doors a few times. It’s soooo obvious that it’s in regard to me, too. And it’s still slamming away.

Later…

Good riddance! It left without music, and yes, the bitch was there. I could’ve sworn I heard her say, after a slam, “Ain’t that a (inaudible) Jodi?”

I couldn’t make out that fourth word. But I could be totally wrong, too. Anyway, I know the slamming was for me whether or not I was mentioned, and I know they weren’t packing something into the car. Cuz why would they put something in it, then shut the door, go get something else, reopen the door, then close it again. Usually, if you’re loading or unloading a car, you keep the doors/trunk open.

Tom’s head cold isn’t too bad, but he’s stopped up and is coughing a lot. He’s managing to get to work and fill in the little dents that got chipped into the plaster of the pool.

Later…

Well, I’m definitely gonna get my period tomorrow. Yeah, I knew God didn’t suddenly change his mind about my having a child and think I could handle it. I had light cramps and a spot earlier.

To update the freeloader scene - at 4 PM a car came in that I couldn’t see cuz it was parked up further and our hedges were in the way. Then I heard some older kids scream and run through the carport for a few minutes. At first I thought, oh God, that car’s gonna get moved, and on goes the 3-hour ball game. But the car came and went quietly. Then at 6:00 PM, Mr. Fuck himself came in. Again, there was no music. Then I heard those “packing” sounds, then at 7:00, he left.

THURSDAY, MARCH 26, 1998 Still no period. Well, like I said, God will send one my way eventually. At this point, I kind of give up for now. It feels like I’ll never get one, but I still have PMS symptoms and I know I’ll get it sooner or later. Within the next few days, like Tom said. My face is full of zits, I have faint pre-cramps, and my tits are sore. That’s my fault, though. I expected to be on time as I almost always am, so towards the end there, I began drinking coffee with caffeine, figuring my period would flush out those sore tits in just a matter of days. My period should be over by now. Maybe I’m just gonna skip a period. Some women do that.

I woke up the lightest I’ve been since peaking at 128 pounds. I was 120½, but I know this is to be very short-lived. I’m sure that as soon as I took my vitamin, I went up to 123-124.

It’s raining like hell out there, so now we’ve got to pump the fucking pool again before we can put on the second coat of paint. And as usual, Tom’s cold will stall things from getting done, I’m sure.

He said he was wondering when a good time would be to go and mow his mom’s yard. Well, that’s great, but what about our yard? Ours is shitty looking with weeds galore. He said keeping up with the mowing of the two houses would be no problem since he’s gonna use their electric mower. We just have a manual mower.

Evie said that after she went over to Ma’s house and sat down and cried, she hopes the house won’t sell too fast.

Oh, Evie, you’ll get your wish. Don’t you worry.

Evie also said her brother and his girlfriend were coming for a visit and she asked me if I had any good recipes to recommend. I told her I could really only recommend Jewish dishes and she OK’d that, so I sent her the recipe for Kugel.

Well, our trailer folks are on the street tonight. Guess they sleep heavier than I thought, but I went and rapped on the gate a bit with a stick. They’ll be my test to see just how well I really am being heard late at night after all.

I’m gonna have to deal with Blackie’s kittens too, cuz she’s in heat. So that’s about 30-40 kittens I’ll have to get rid of by the time we move. Mama Cat hasn’t been around much lately, fortunately, but she is alive and well.

Later…

There’s this white caddy that’s been blasting by around lunchtime. There’s still that blue or silver car, too. There have been so many car stereos blasting by, it’s pitiful. They get worse and worse and more frequent by the day. You can’t go one solid day now without hearing one. It may very well get to the point where I can’t sleep and will have to move my stereo into the bedroom and add that to the fan and sound machine to match their bass beats going by.

I used the electric grill my parents sent and loved it. I cooked a T-bone steak on it.

Tom and I agreed that I’d go to a doctor if I didn’t get the next period that’d be due April 18th. I would still bet these journals that I’ll have a period by then. I still can’t see God adding a child to my fate, but I wish that the reason I haven’t had a period could be due to that. I’m not gonna lie to myself or go to Fantasy Land, either. If it were possible for me to be pregnant, although it’s not, then I could be almost guaranteed to lose it within 2-3 months. So, maybe it’s best that what’s going on here isn’t due to a child, although it’d still be nice. But it’d only be nice if it could stay there for 9 months. Not be put there by God just so he could take it away. I don’t think that’d play very well on my emotions at all. Nonetheless, I tell myself, you will get a period. Cuz this is the truth and I must remember that. I can’t let old feelings/desires be stirred up.

Today’s weather suits Tom’s cold. It went from hot and dry to cool and damp practically overnight. I saw some really dark rain clouds out there. The darkest clouds I’d ever seen. And it was weird too, cuz if I looked one way it was dark and cloudy. If I turned to look the other way, it was still cloudy, but the sun was trying to poke through.

I called mom today and we chatted for a few. She says she really feels like she’s crowding Mary and Dave. She sounded awful. I feel really bad for her. She can’t talk well and her voice is still all raspy. She’s having trouble hearing, too, and is going for a test to see if it’s just old age, or what. Anyway, it was hard to hear her at one point, cuz the damn dog went off. Guess it saw something out the front window that got it stirred up.

Later…

Now here’s something promising. That big white car that’s come to visit next door with its music very loud just came and went quietly. This suggests maybe the second letter has helped ensure my peace from their shit, but who knows for sure? I just know that if he’s quiet, I’ll have to listen to a lot of stereos blast by. OK, though. If God insists I hear them either next door or on the street, then I’ll take the street since that’s not quite 3’ from the bedroom window.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 25, 1998 White Paws is sitting in here with me as I write. Jesus fucking goddamn Christ! He has another cold! Is there something wrong with this guy’s immune system or what? And how damn naïve of me to believe him when he said he’d get fewer colds if I quit smoking, on top of it improving our sex lives, on top of God maybe having a reason for me to have finally been able to quit smoking. And now this means I have to get sick, too. Yes, he’s had a lot of colds that I didn’t catch, but I caught the last one, so what’s to say I won’t catch this one? Well, I probably won’t, but the threat’s still there hanging over my head.

Tom believes I’ll have my period within the next few days. Oh, I know I will. I know there’s a period somewhere at the end of this late shit. I don’t know if God’s trying to tease me, to worry me, or what, but we both know I couldn’t handle a child and that having that period would be what’s best for me and what’d be right.

So I guess it’ll end up to be a total of 3 weeks before we finally screw again. Thank fucking God I have a low appetite and would rather just quickly take care of myself, otherwise I’d be itching for the Melanies of this world. The ones that were bi or gay, that is, that were willing to go down on another fem here and there. I’d have an easier time getting a girl, too, cuz of being married. That way they wouldn’t feel so threatened if they knew I was already tied down with someone. And also, I think that they’d like the 125 pounds better than the 100 pounds. I’d just have that young, innocent face, and the long hair against me.

Right now I’m just so frustrated. I just wish God would either give me my goddamn periods on time and have them be normal, or just have something go wrong like yesterday, and have me have a hysterectomy. I’m tired of playing these games. I get so much sicker of the thought of sex and a child, the more I’m jerked around with it.

I finished proofreading the 70s file.

TUESDAY, MARCH 24, 1998 Still no period, but still sure I’ll get one and that if I don’t, it’s not cuz of a child holding it up. It’d mean something was wrong, but maybe it’s tied into why I’m so fat. We did get together during mid-cycle, but if I remember right and if I’ve got my facts straight, he didn’t cum.

There’s only one thing I can think of that may be the cause, but it’s unlikely. As I may have mentioned, there was a time I got mad and hit myself really hard in the area of the ovaries and uterus. I was just really frustrated. But I think this was a few months ago, too. Tom doesn’t think it’d do anything, but if I did beat my plumbing and knock it out of service - great. As long as it doesn’t make me fatter than I already am (can’t seem to budge from bouncing between 123-125 pounds).

I changed the bird and later on, it’s the critters’ turn. Wish they were as quick and easy, but they take about an hour. Sometimes more.

Tom took down the old, ugly, bent rods that were in the bedroom to hold the tie-dye curtains I did, and he put up shades. They work so well at darkening any gaps that let in light within the blockers.

Today we’ll be putting up the living room window shade. We began to yesterday, but it wouldn’t quite reach. Tom’s gonna put a block of wood in to extend it.

While he was at the front window, he saw an APS truck working next door. He wasn’t there for long, though, but Tom said that maybe that was why he wasn’t there last night when he left for work. However, I could’ve sworn I saw him leave at 10:30 yesterday morning with the music at a somewhat obnoxious level. Maybe it wasn’t him, but Tom has a point that I agree with. He’s not allowed to be there, as we originally felt, and if our letters were brought to her attention, she just said he just visits. But they’re not gonna go inside the house to check for his belongings and evidence of his existence. They should, though. These stupid city people should realize by now just how much fraud goes on in these welfare programs and with the people on SS and SSI. Hey, do you think I’d have let them know I’d occasionally get $200 from my folks and shit like that? He’s not like I was, though. He’s not a good person who wants to do better. He’s a rude selfish fuck and I begged God to do justice and to see that he’s out of here, if he truly doesn’t belong.

Of all the houses in Phoenix, leave it to me to be the one next to a subsidized house. As if something wants something from my past to remain close by. Or to remind me of where I came from. Well, I certainly will never forget the projects I was in or any other place.

We went to the library and to Wal-Mart yesterday where I got a cute magnet with a cactus, some hangers, a few puzzles, a bathing suit, and two pairs of shorts. The suit’s hot pink. One pair of shorts is bright green, the other’s deep purple.

At the library, I got 3 more true crime books.

On our way home, he stopped at Arby’s and I stopped at KFC.

Later…

The freeloader was there last night. He slammed the hell out of his car door to let me know it too, as he left for work this morning. He hasn’t come in for lunch, so he’ll come in around 4:00, leave again at 6:00, and return an hour later.

It hit 90º today and we have the cooler going now.

Still no period. Something’s really wrong here and I’ve got to find out what it is if I don’t get the next period which would be due April 18th. Did my hormones suddenly go out of whack? Is it a cyst or some other kind of bad growth? Well, time will tell, but I still think that eventually, I’ll get a period. If God wanted to me have a hysterectomy, why now and not earlier in life? In other words, I don’t think something can be that wrong, and I don’t have bad vibes, either. I sometimes get what I guess you could call phantom cramps. I get really faint little cramps for a second here and there, making me think that maybe it’s kicked in, but then I wipe off no blood.

Yesterday was hot and we had the cooler on. And yes, the heat brought the freeloaders out. There was no music that I know of, but I could hear him talking to someone. I also heard some kid too, that sounded too old to be the little freeloader, so who knows? Maybe it was the house next to them with all those daycare kids and the guard dogs.

This heat worries me. I mean, it really puts a lot of stress on me and makes it hard for me to enjoy the upcoming summer and all that, cuz I know they’ll be out and about to spoil it. The good of the heat, though, is that it’ll be less likely that kids will use the basketball hoop.

MONDAY, MARCH 23, 1998 I'm actually gonna watch another movie I found that looks good, that I haven't seen before. I basically only watch the commercial-free stuff, but I'll still seldom watch anything.

Still no period. Really weird! Well, since I know I'm as sterile as a doorknob, something would be wrong if I don't get my period. Something that may be tied into why I'm so fat besides quitting smoking. It'd be nice if it were a matter of just a few pills I'd need to fix my weird periods and my weight, but that's too easy. So I hope to get my period cuz I don't need any problems. If you ask me, though, I'd say I'll definitely get it without a doubt. This is just one of those unusual times where it's gonna be late.

Made major, major progress on the pool yesterday, which just might be done in time after all. We painted the pool and Tom later painted half the spa. We painted it a color called blue mist and it's really pretty. Nice and bright. It'll be nice to have a pool with a nice, clean, even, one-colored surface. Anyway, we still have to finish the spa and put on the second coat. It'll be a few days, though, before we fill it up. That'll take about a day and a half.

SUNDAY, MARCH 22, 1998 Well, this weekend’s going fast due to my schedule. I was fortunate enough to sleep just fine till 9 PM. At just before 10 PM, I heard the freeloader slam doors, but if there was any serious trouble, I supposed Tom would’ve told me about it.

Like I’ve said a million times (thank God I’m like he is now with a low drive) something doesn’t want us to have that much sex. We couldn’t yesterday cuz I had an upset stomach and I don’t think we can today, either, cuz he’s bruised up. He fell while working on the pool. I feel bad cuz I wasn’t there to help him. What if he fell and did break something all the while I slept away and he couldn’t call me for help? Thank you, God, for sparing us from such a situation.

Speaking of bad feelings, he said he feels guilty cuz while his ma could keep things going and keep dad at home, he can’t keep things going for mom to be at home. But that’s not his fault, and I told him that. She’s just too old and ill. And she’s very lucky to have such a wonderful son.

Got a Bob letter with an article enclosed titled: Ear Seems Linked to Sexual Orientation.

I still can tell you personally that I’ve never been able to help it as far as anyone I’ve ever been attracted to goes, and I agree with the studies that indicate that it’s got to do with predisposing genes/hormones prior to birth. I don’t think anyone can help it if they’re gay, straight or bi. Anyway, this study’s saying that the measurements within the inner ear and cochlea may be linked, but what cracked me up was, what about those of us born with an inner ear fused shut?

Later…

Here we go again with the big production and build-up to a period. Why are my periods so wacky lately? I had a small, barely visible spot the day before I was due for it, but now, nothing. I know I’ll get it, though, but it’s like God’s teasing me. God, if you’re not gonna have things foul up so I need a hysterectomy, then just let me get normal periods!

Oh, when I said I was shocked to have found a movie I’d never seen before - I meant shocked to find one I hadn’t seen out of the ones I like. TV’s just too damn repetitious, though. They run the same movies year after year.

Is Alex mad at me? Did he read something in those journal excerpts I sent him that he didn’t like? For a while now, when I go to send him an email, I get a message saying that the user isn’t accepting emails from my account. But why? What could he have read that upset him so much? Nothing that I can think of. Well, if he wants to contact me, he will. Meanwhile, I don’t have a clue as to what’s up with him.

Tom got alfalfa for Bunny since he’s wild and he thought he’d like wild things, but Bunny wasn’t too thrilled with it. I’m not surprised. I knew the pig, but especially the mice, would like it more.

Andy was over earlier and he brought me some gorgeous clothes. They’re from Michelle’s friend Patty, who’s also a dancer. Amazingly, the bulk of the stuff fit, too.

He says I look like such a teenager with these braces, but thought the colors were pretty.

We got quite a kick out of what’s going on all over New England, and called the weather line to listen to it over the speakerphone so we could laugh together. They’ve got a winter storm advisory in effect and according to his brother, they had a high of 33º and it was in the teens at night. They started off with sleet and freezing rain, then it turned to snow.

Later…

Tom got up with an upset stomach. He’s also quite sore. I did say he’s always got a problem, huh? And why is it that something not only comes up to keep us from getting together, but it also comes up when I have company? Is there a connection here? It seems that when I have company, he can’t sleep or has a stomach problem.

SATURDAY, MARCH 21, 1998 That beautiful smell of the orange blossoms is just beginning to be noticeable now.

No trailer folks. Guess they either couldn’t sleep well here or aren’t here for some other reason.

Tom said that I slept through a silver Nissan blaring by really loud while he was out working on the pool. I said I wondered why it didn’t wake me up and he said maybe cuz it turned down the other way and not by the bedroom window.

I’m pretty much holding off doing any more exercising till and if I lose some serious weight here. It’s just useless right now cuz I’m too fat. Weight loss and toning up go hand and hand and the toning up will come naturally if God will just let me lose this weight. At 25 pounds overweight, though, exercising’s just not effective. Again though, I’ll probably stay at 125 for a long time.

Tom got the list of doctors in the mail today. I can supposedly see a GYN directly and not have to go through the BS of a physician’s assistant and have to have repeat PAPs. Again though, I’m very reluctant to go for a pap for two reasons. One, I just don’t think I need it. Two, it’ll lead to trouble. That is unless I tell them we’re using rubbers when they ask if I’m on birth control. But if I say no to that question, then they’re gonna want to know how I’m dodging pregnancy and all that, although my being DES-exposed ought to tell them how (but they wouldn’t know that also, Tom doesn’t like to cum much).

Tom asked me if I wanted a young or old doctor. I said it didn’t matter. The sex doesn’t even matter, either, as long as they do their job right. I asked Tom if he wanted young, old, male, female and he said, “In between.” In between young and old and in between male and female?

Well, the number one reason I’m not gonna pursue a fertility doctor is cuz a child just isn’t meant to be. There’s no getting around that. Also, I don’t really want one all that much these days. And lastly, my husband does not want to have to face and deal with fertility doctors and has told me he felt it’d ruin the marriage. Therefore, I’m not gonna do anything to risk us or to make him uncomfortable. I also know a child is of no importance to him, either, no matter what he says.

Later…

Why the fuck is the old man’s dog going off now? It’s 3:00 in the fucking morning!

The freeloaders have been quiet so far, like I said. 80% of the prison population is black, and more than half of the black population ends up doing time at some point, so it’s just my luck that this one isn’t in with his “brothers.” They refer to each other as brothers and sisters. Guess they had really busy parents!

Just made some more coffee, which has a flavor adjustment. I don’t know how it works, but you can have your coffee hearty and robust, or smooth and mild.

Later…

The pig’s really growing and chunking out. He has quite a pug nose. I’ve never seen such a pug-nosed GP.

I haven’t seen mama bitch for a while. Please, God, send her into a speeding car!

FRIDAY, MARCH 20, 1998 Haven’t written due to being pretty busy.

The mice are pretty active as I write, chewing on their nibble sticks that they love so much.

Got an email from Evie and from my dad. Dad says Ma’s now a notary public and a justice of the peace, so she performed a wedding ceremony for the son of their friends. Yeah, and I’m sure she told them she hoped they’d have kids.

You know, it still really hurts to know that if I were still back east, and if I had been the one to have a child die, married or not, stable or not, none of these people would’ve been there for me. Maybe Tammy would’ve been a support, but Ronnie, Lori, and Lisa certainly wouldn’t have been there. And neither would Larry have been there if this had happened during the 8 years we didn’t speak.

Anyway, this new coffee plan has really made all the difference. Here I am just two days away, now one day away from my period, and I have close to zero PMS.

As for the freeloader, Tom said he saw his car there for lunch. So that’s why I haven’t seen his car up front in the early evenings. He’s now coming in for lunch again. He said he’s been quiet, though.

The fucking trailer people are a whole different ballgame. I mean, I haven’t heard that dog whose bark sounded more like a scream (I can’t believe it! Someone in Arizona actually cared about disturbing a neighbor with noise)!!! For a good 20 minutes or so, they just wouldn’t shut the fuck up with their fucking trailer doors. They were in and out and in out. What’s the matter with their fucking driveway? They shouldn’t be camping out on the street like they do, anyway. I think tonight I should slam them back and give them a wake-up call.

I’m still just under 125 pounds, but it’s hard. Not all the time, but sometimes I’m always so hungry.

Tom picked up 30 blank CD cases for me today. So I took all of Gloria’s CDs and most of Linda’s and redid the cases with the covers I made.

I also did some experimenting last night with both plastic and wire binding. I typed up old journals to be proofread and used those to bind up. It sure beats 3-ring binders

Now I’m gonna go read some of my library book, as well as do some proofreading and singing.

Later…

Did some reading and now I’m making popcorn.

I guess I ought to be hearing any time now from Bob. I asked him to tell me if he could receive manila envelopes. I think he can. Anyway, it’ll be a while, but he’ll have plenty to read when I put all this stuff together for him. Watch - with my luck he’ll die the day I send this shit. Hell, if I’ll put a return address on. I’m not stupid. I know that just cuz one guard may say it’s OK to receive such stuff, another may say it’s not OK. When I mail out this stuff, I don’t ever want it back again, so there’ll be no return address.

I sang for a short while and finished my last library book. Guess now’s as good a time as any to get going with that proofreading again.

Later…

About half an hour ago, I went out and clanked two pot covers together for a few minutes. Maybe the trailer people will feel that they just can’t get a good night’s sleep here anymore. Also, I’m out to fuck any neighbor I can till I’m out of here, whether they did shit to me or not, cuz if there’s anything I learned out here, it’s to disrespect and be rude and let your neighbors hear you. Well, they’ll be hearing me alright.

I also checked the TV guide for the first time in ages and was shocked to find a new movie I’d never seen before. It was good, too. Nothing with pregnancy, childbirth, and related stuff, although it wouldn’t bother me at this point. It just bores me. It’s too much and it’s not something I can relate to. Forgive me for sounding like my self-absorbed mother, but when Evie goes on and on about the kids, it gets old.

Later…

Been up for 3 hours and here goes stereo #4 to drive by. No freeloader shit, though, fortunately. But it’s the weekend, so that’s always subject to change.

No trailer people out there. Perhaps they’re having trouble sleeping here? Well, it’s still just after 9:00, so they could pull in at 10ish. We’ll see.

Tom got me a really nice coffeemaker today. It’s got a timer and everything. It’s pretty nice looking and pretty high tech, compared to the one I had on Oswego St. It’s got a flavor adjustment, too, for making the coffee mild or strong.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 18, 1998 According to the 5-cast, things are gonna go as they usually do. It’ll be somewhat cool, but it’ll warm up into the weekend, raising the chances of freeloader trouble. Yup, it’ll be warm and dry.

Speaking of el freeloader, Tom says that last night his car was parked deep in the carport, as far as it could go, which is unusual, suggesting that maybe he went out of town for a while. At first I thought that that was a sign of a dog and that they had a dog again rigged up to it, but there wasn’t. We’d both have heard it a long time ago if there were one over there. Someone’s there, though, cuz the living room lights were on. Maybe he did go somewhere, and if he did, I hope it’s for more than a week.

I’m waking up at 123 and going to bed at 125 lately. I don’t know if this is a good sign or not.

I still think of and lust for Melanie, but not as intensely as I did yesterday. Maybe that’s just cuz I saw her yesterday.

Now for the shocking news - Tom actually did call for a doctor’s appointment!! I really thought he’d just blow it off. He said he was confused, though, by how they operate and although he explained it all to me, I’m confused, too. They’re sending us some stuff we need to have in order to make the appointment that he says he didn’t know about. I’m very pleased that he kept his word, but there’s just one problem. I don’t want a child anymore. If I don’t bring it up, though, I doubt he will. I think it’ll just “go away” in the end. I won’t worry about it now.

Later…

The weather’s been a lot better lately. I haven’t had to run the heat much. About a week ago, the freeloader’s trees began sprouting their leaves. They have one tall tree in back and two up front.

Fortunately, I can also chew gum again, too. I guess my jaw was just too sore at first. It has to be Freedent gum so it won’t stick, but that’s fine.

Later…

So much for enjoying a pleasant late afternoon out in my own backyard. Got fucking dogs on my left and right going off.

Anyway, Tom said the car was gone when he came in today, but couldn’t tell if it was deep in the carport last night, cuz of the darkness. You can’t really see all the way in at night and the fuck has a dark gray car.

At 8:40 this morning, someone based by really, really loud, but I couldn’t tell who it was.

Maybe the fuck really is away somewhere cuz his car is not parked out front. His usual routine these days is to come in around 4:00 and park it up front. Then take off at 6-something, and return an hour later, and park in the carport for the night.

Tom said he found another all-black kitten in the yard, right where I walk a lot, that he says was more developed and lived a little longer. He also said he was pretty sure White Paws killed it cuz as soon as Tom removed it, he went to see if it was still there.

But how could this kitten have lived longer without me knowing it? And how could it have survived longer without Mama Cat, cuz she was hanging around the patio with the others just as much as she usually does? She’s always in the yard and I would’ve known if she was nursing a kitten. Tom said it was all black. Maybe it was the one I threw over the wall and maybe it didn’t die that night and somehow survived. Meanwhile, White Paws jumped over the wall and found it, killed it, then brought it back into the yard to play with. Who knows for sure?

Bunny sure is weird. I threw some bread out for the birds, yet Bunny ate it. Since when do rabbits eat bread?

He got most of the pool water out, but I still don’t think this pool’s gonna be ready by the time the weather’s good for swimming. It fucking figures, too. Always gotta be tied up taking care of other people’s this, other people’s that. But our stuff has to wait.

Later…

Today was a bad dog day as far as barking goes. The old man’s dog to our right and the two guard dogs just wouldn’t shut the fuck up! Thank God these dogs will be quiet anytime now for a good 12 hours, and I don’t have to listen to a dog next door pick up where these dogs leave off till fucking 1 AM.

There’s no freeloader pulled in next door as far as I know, cuz I didn’t hear anything. If he’s gone, could it have to do with the letter? Well, I’ll enjoy its absence, cuz it’s gonna be back in just a week.

Damn, I feel like God’s teasing me with this wanting to lose weight! Just when I drop a few pounds, I go right back to where I was, and back and forth.

TUESDAY, MARCH 17, 1998 The pressure’s off and I can relax now. See, this is when I’m really glad to be childless. Why did I ever think I wanted to sleep 4 hours a night and deal with all the trouble and hardships that kids bring? Guess I lose my mind at times.

After Tom, who got up 2½ hours left before he had to go to work and who could’ve made time for screwing but didn’t cuz he’s always had the low drive that I’ve now acquired too, I had great sex with Melanie, only she’ll never know it!

I’m glad God’s given me a break from wanting full-time sex and a kid, both of which could never have been anyway, but true to life’s ways, I’m now faced with a new problem. (besides the fact that I gained back the weight I lost. See? I tell God I’ll stick the braces out and stick to my commitments, but does he care? No!) I’d hardly call Melanie a problem, compared to the years I spent all depressed over the damn kid, but she’s driving me crazy in a sense!

I still wonder about something Andy said he’s experienced - thought vibes. He says he’s gotten calls from people when he’s thought about them and came to find out he was being thought of by the same people he was thinking of. Be it people in the city or back east.

Can Melie sense me? Can she sense my feelings for her? Are my thoughts of her rubbing off on her and is she thinking of me, too? I’d just love to chat with her and to know that she was impressed by me, but we can’t chat. And I can never know what she really thinks of me. She certainly doesn’t know me well enough to judge me, but wouldn’t it be cool if she were one of those Ann Marie types? One who looked as straight as an arrow, but liked women? Only difference would be that Melanie’s married and wouldn’t act on her attraction. It’d just be so cool to know she was constantly thinking of me too, and fantasizing about holding me, cuddling, etc.

I tried to look for any “signs” that she too, may like me, but if there was anything significant saying that she does and that she’s got a little crush on me too, I didn’t see it. She was as friendly as any professional should be.

Later…

Boxes #2, #3 & #4 came today. There was a plastic kiddy pool, the hummingbird plate I gave her when she was here, a pink blanket, a Chanukah banner, candles, and other decor, candleholders in the form of a Hebrew symbol of some kind, Christmas paper, a Halloween mat and a witch that sits in a rocker and rocks back and forth, suitcases, a shitty picture of me taken when I was around 14, a radar detector, a cell phone, cords, drop cloths, flags, car window screens, corn decorations, appointment books, an electric grill, sunglasses and eyeglass cases, picture frames, silverware, a cheese coupon that I guess is for the mice, and a couple of stick-it pads that say Dureen’s Nettles Island.

I wonder why she sent back the hummingbird plate I gave her.

It goes to prove just how good my memory is, cuz I remember a lot of the stuff she sent and some of it is stuff I haven’t seen in a good 20 years or so.

That picture of me sure is pitiful! I wasn’t really fat, but my face and teeth were hideous, as usual, minus the eyes. The outfit was sickening, and this is back when my hair was just wavy and not curly. It was also only between my collarbone and my tits (didn’t have any of those back then, though).

Some of the flags she sent I already have, and that and the Halloween stuff will go to Andy. That fall corn and wheat thing you hang is just so ugly and so New England. So Andy will love it and he can have it.

The silverware’s what I like best. In fact, I was gonna go to Wal-Mart to look into an additional set, but now I don’t have to. This set has got 5-8 of each piece and has mauve-colored handles.

Now I’m gonna go get Tom up, then listen to music. When I return to write some more, I’ll have some pretty shocking news.

MONDAY, MARCH 16, 1998 I just talked to Andy who I thought would never let me off that fucking phone. Still, I enjoy our weekly chats.

I forgot to mention earlier that I tried calling Tammy at her house. When there was no answer, I dialed Mark’s work number and got his machine. Yes, he sure does sound Italian. Bill’s sister Etta, who’s as sweet as Bill is a bastard, is supportive of Tammy and agrees that Bill’s a very angry person (cuz of their fucked up mother) and that he should get help.

Later…

To get the little stuff out of the way first - Tom did just what I knew he’d do. He swore 3 weeks ago that he’d pick doctors out for us and make an appointment to be seen. Has he? Of course not! I’m glad he’s not any more serious than I am about having a child, but I don’t like the lying. I’m sick of him telling me he’ll do something he doesn’t do, whether it means a lot to me or not. Now I’m perfectly happy at this point, to just think and wonder about a child. I don’t want to have one cuz it would never be worth the hassle whether I could handle it or not. I know that if I had had a kid once that initial curiosity and excitement wore off, I’d be trapped and miserable and wishing for these days right back. But I still don’t like being lied to.

This neighborhood is getting more and more of those fucking stereos basing by! There are even so many on the weekdays lately, but then I realized why. If God’s gonna spare me from next door’s music (and he is still there and is coming in for lunch again), he’s gonna have more cars drive by with bass. He’s not gonna let me off the hook as far as the bass goes while I’m still here. He’ll let me off the hook as far as doing my womanly duties of procreating, but that’s about it. Well, at least they’re out on the street and not 3 feet away just outside the bedroom window with a block wall to funnel and amplify it.

Later…

Jesus Christ! I cannot believe all these fucking stereos! But then again, I can believe it, as long as the freeloader isn’t joining in. I had to have heard stereos pass by at least 8 times today and this is scary. What if those steal my sleep? I never thought in my wildest dreams that in a house, with a loud fan and other sounds, people’s stereos could wake me up. This is Monday, yet there were more stereos that I heard today than there were throughout the whole damn weekend. They cruise by from morning to night.

I fell asleep at 4:30 last night and Tom got me up at 12:30. He said that the dentist’s office called saying that if I wanted the braces taken off, to come in earlier. But he told them I got used to the things and we’d keep the same time.

It was nice to see the beautiful Melanie again. This time she had her hair piled at the back of her head with a hair clip. The last two times I’d seen her, she had it in a ponytail. She sure is tall, dark, and gorgeous. I don’t think she’s Spanish at all, but she may have some Italian in her.

I was a bit self-conscious around her, as I always am with someone I’m attracted to. I don’t get to see her again for 3 weeks. I was in and out of there in minutes, cuz all she did was look in my mouth. She doesn’t know if she’ll re-anchor the impacted tooth when I see her the next time. I guess it’ll depend on how fast it moves.

I just can’t get “Melie,” as I refer to her in my fantasies, off my mind. Seeing her on an average of once a month just isn’t enough. Although a few days a week would probably drive me crazy. Know what I wish I could do? I wish she could somehow be told by someone right now that she turns me on. I’d love to know what her reaction would be (although I think that’s rather obvious) and if her reaction was a bad one, I could erase the knowledge of my being attracted to her out of her brain. Life is full of fantasies, huh?!

A part of me is tempted to ask her, “Do you have a home PC and an email account of some kind? Cuz I thought it’d be neat to have a pen pal that I didn’t see a lot, but that wasn’t a complete stranger, either, but I don’t know what’s allowed here and I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

Again, I’m sure her answer would be that she didn’t even have a home PC, whether she did or not, and whether she had an email address or not. Most people don’t mix business with pleasure, anyway.

If she did have a PC and email address and did agree to pen pal with me, what would Tom think? I don’t think I could hide that from him and besides, I wouldn’t want to. But would he get the wrong idea? I lust for Melanie. I don’t love her. Nor could I love her or anyone else like I love Tom. I also know how Tom can get paranoid, too.

Not that I even want a real friendship, so to speak, with Melanie, but I bet she’d be a good friend. Then again, maybe not. Most of the people I’ve met with good jobs and all that, kind of look down on people like me. I don’t know if someone like her could deal with someone as different as I am, even though she’s in a “people business” and helps people.

In a way I’m surprised that she’s not the one coming out and telling me she likes me, cuz isn’t it when you’re hitched permanently that some hot-looking thing comes onto you? On the other hand, dentists don’t do things like that. I’m sure she’d be afraid to lose her job.

I wonder if she “senses” my liking her? When I say “liking” her, I mean her looks. I felt self-conscious and like I was rambling too fast and I don’t know if I’m just being hard on myself for no reason, or if how I feel I was is true, but could she have a clue? Could she ever think of me, too, and like what she sees, too?

She said to call if I had any problems. She’s there on Fridays, even though they don’t see patients on Fridays.

Anyway, I’ve lost a few pounds, ironically. And when I say that, it’s due to another prayer I made to God. I promised him I’d stick these braces out if he’d let me lose weight. Coincidence? A tease? Nothing at all? I’m also waking up a few pounds lighter than I am when I go to bed so that’s good. You should wake up a few pounds lighter, but for a while, I wasn’t. Also, I’m back to not eating much and not eating when I first get up. It’s normal for me to not want to eat till after I’ve been up 1-2 hours, not wake up so hungry and eat right away.

Later…

In a half-hour, I’ll get Tom up.

Any time now, the wonderful scent of the orange blossoms will be out. Well, that’s more towards April, actually. Birds will be singing at night, too.

Meanwhile, just to record some more thoughts, I hate it when Tom tickles me after sex. And he only does this when he either doesn’t stay in there due to going soft, doesn’t cum, or stops in the middle of sex. It’s like he’s trying to butter me up. That’s probably what it really is too, but I just don’t care anymore. I don’t care if he cums or not. In fact, I even prefer that he doesn’t. Why make a mess when he’s perfectly happy with not cumming in the first place? Maybe it’d still bother me that he didn’t cum much if I still wanted a kid and thought I was fertile, since a guy’s cum and getting pregnant, do go hand in hand. You can’t have one without the other. Nonetheless, I not only don’t care what he does (except for deciding how I feel, what I want, and when he controls sex). I am sick of sex with him altogether. The love stayed (thank God!), but the sex burned out on me. It just doesn’t excite me anymore. The lust flame began to die a few months ago. No, it’s not cuz I don’t want a child anymore. It’s just old. I’d rather just take care of myself or have Melanie go down on me. But I know Melanie will never be anything more than my orthodontist, and I also know that this is normal. I know most couples lose the desire for as much sex with time. I’m just glad I have someone that I love and that loves me. Things could be worse. We could not love each other and have all kinds of problems together, but this isn’t so. So, it’s just that the sex is old with him and that it’s not easy having sex with him. I’m never fully comfortable with him in bed, cuz I just don’t know if he’s gonna play games or what. I know how he is in bed in general and what he likes for the most part, but I can’t always predict when he’ll play his fucking games. I can just tell you that he’ll cum about every 1-4 weeks, probably won’t cum when I’m mid-cycle, and that we’ll have sex about once a week. I suppose that even though I no longer want a child, I’ll always also have a deep-rooted resentment towards him for lying/playing games when I did want a child and when it did mean so much to me.

SUNDAY, MARCH 15, 1998 It’s midnight and I’m still wide awake. Fuck! How am I gonna see Melanie? I not only want to see her so I can look at the gorgeous face again, but I also want to discuss what’d be best to do about the braces, etc. I am getting more used to them, so that’s good.

I think I’ll go pop a couple of Benadryl and hope to hell it’ll knock me out (but not for 12 hours) before sunup. I’ll pray to God for help falling asleep too, as that’s an area I do have faith in him. He usually comes through on granting the sleep wishes these days.

I’d like to stay and write, but like I said, I better get a move on doing whatever I can to knock myself on my ass.

Later…

Fortunately, I managed to get up at 10 AM, so if I don’t go to bed till 2-4 AM, then get up at 12:30 PM, I’ll still be well-rested for my 2:30 date with Mel.

Just 4-5 more hours and I’ll feel safe from any possible outbursts from next door. Yes, sundown on Sunday is my favorite time of the week. They hate this weather, and as usual, the cooler temperatures and the rain/clouds kept them quiet. In fact, yesterday when it was raining, he may not have gone out anywhere at all. It shocked the hell out of me, but that car didn’t move. He did have to come out, though, just to slam his car door once. He’s so obsessed with me knowing he’s there. He left after noon and before he did, he slammed the doors a good 8-10 times. I can just picture it, too, one or both of them opening and slamming, opening and slamming the doors over and over again for my sake. If it ain’t music, it’s doors, but I’ll take doors over the music.

Later…

If it weren’t for Tom, this fucking bird would be out with the cats right now! Sometimes its chirping and squawking are just fine, but when I’m trying to have a conversation on the phone and when I’m in bed with Tom, I don’t need to hear it.

And here we go with the sexual shit again. I’m sick and tired of him doing what he said he didn’t want me to do to him. This is the third time he stopped in the middle of sex cuz he thought something put me out of the mood. I’m tired of him assuming how I feel and deciding what to do for me when I have a voice of my own. He uses me as an excuse to quit during sex cuz he’s not into it and cuz he just loves to tease and play games. I stopped giving a damn and bitching about if we have part-time sex or not. I stopped giving a damn and bitching about his infrequent cumming. I wanted him to do as he pleases and to be happy and not do anything that’d make him uncomfortable. So I told him he better quit controlling things in bed and making sex a chore for me, or else I won’t want to have sex for a while. At least I’ve got a good week or so of a break from sex anyway, cuz it’s usually just on the weekends that we screw. I’m sure he’s relieving himself right now, too. Just like last time, he went to bed or to take a nap afterward and was in much too good of a mood after he quit the sex on us for someone who was still supposedly in the mood and in need of relief.

Yesterday Ma was moved, but there are still a lot of things in the house. That’s cuz they can only fit so much into Mary and Dave’s jam-packed house. I feel bad for her having to be yanked out of the house she was in for 20 years by her kids cuz she’s too old to live alone.

Evie said in her email to me that she plans on visiting Ma to cheer her up when she’s over there alone. She also offered to come and get me on one of these visits and to do lunch with me. Why didn’t I have people like her in my life before I met Tom?

The house across the street from Mary burned down. Guess they were God’s favorite kinds of parents with a bunch of little kids. Mary said she heard one of the 3-year-olds say, “I lit the couch on fire.”

Then a 5-year-old say, “Yup, I dared him to do it.”

Then one of these kids said something about Dad being really pissed when he got home, but then he was reminded by another kid that he was in jail. God’s quite a hit with choosing parents, isn’t he? And you know these kids will end up just as fucked as the parents and that they too will end up in jail.

I talked with Sandy earlier. Larry and Jen were at a band concert at the high school, but meanwhile, I got to laugh my ass off at Sandy. She said it was about 44º (30s & 40s are common at this time of year there) and that there was even some snow on the ground to go with it! I called 3-way and let her hear how lovely our weather’s gonna be, minus one little storm from CA.

Later…

I certainly can’t count on this and I won’t get my hopes up, but it “sounds” like Mr. Fuck might be taking off for a while. There’s been no music, but I thought I heard those packing sounds.

Later…

It’s over! The weekend’s over and it’s now my favorite time - Sunday evening.

I’m also psyched to say that I’ve gone all day without wax and am used to these things now. I just now put a little wax on the inside brackets, but just when I thought I’d never get used to these things, I got used to them.

Later…

Unless I’ve got stuff to do, I try to take the time to guard the kittens while they eat, so that they alone can eat and not their mean old mom as well. I chased the bitch around the side of the house just now, where there’s one of the long metal pieces that go to the security door we’ll probably never fully install. I thought about clanking and banging it for a sec when I saw that their living room windows were brightly lit, and at first I thought to myself, Nah, they didn’t do anything today that was noisy and that pissed me off. Then I thought, hey, wait a minute! What about the times when they did shit to me when I wasn’t noisy and didn’t give them a reason to bother me? So I picked the thing up and just threw it down, then booked it back in here cuz it’s at hours that they’re up. Sure enough, right after I threw the thing, I saw their security light come on but didn’t hear anything. I know they had to have heard this, too, cuz you’re talking about throwing it just a few feet away right outside their fucking window. Don’t get me wrong, cuz that security light goes on and off at all hours of the night and day. Any of these damn cats could trip it on, but I wouldn’t be surprised if someone did come out to look around. Normally they may say - fuck it. But they have reason to be paranoid while we’re neighbors and they know it. So now it’s mutual. Now we both get to live in stress. While I wonder if they’re gonna piss me off with noise, they have to wonder if I’ll do anything to their place.

I called Andy for my weekly chat which I usually call for late Sunday or sometime on Monday. He was at work, but I know how faithful he is when it comes to the phone and I know I can count on him to leave me a message when he gets in.

I told him that since he likes to tell people they’re gonna be in pain, he ended up right on the second day of the braces and filled him in on all that.

I also told him it was ironic that he recently had a dream where he was at my parents’ place and they were gathering up stuff to send to me in boxes, seeing that she’s now sending boxes of stuff she’s not taking to the new place. Tammy’s not getting any boxes, but they just had a fight, so maybe Ma’s too pissed off at her still.

Lastly, I told Andy about Melanie and how Tom knows that I think she’s pretty and that I can tell him these things without him worrying, and he trusts me, etc.

Ma usually emails me between 11 PM-1 AM her time, so I’ll check for a message soon.

FRIDAY, MARCH 13, 1998 I went through all my clothes, and 95% of them are just too damn small on me now or don’t fit at all. It’s almost hard to believe I was once that small. But I can never lose this weight, so I’ve got to do some summer clothes shopping. I have a few pairs of shorts I can still squeeze into, but I’ll have to get bigger sundresses and a bathing suit. It’s frustrating, but I have to just live with it and not try to fight it, cuz if I try to fight it, I’ll only exhaust and disappoint myself. So, no more new ways to lose weight that I “think” will finally get this weight off me. It’s just not coming off. Period.

Box #1 came today from my parents and this one was all cosmetics. This woman has more cosmetics than a store would. There was lotion, lipstick, eyeshadow, perfume, and hair conditioner.

Evie also sent me a card with pictures of Parker.

Tom picked out an old picture of his parents and printed it out to iron onto a shirt.

Tomorrow’s the day that he, Mary, Dave and Mikey will be moving his mom out and then the house becomes our responsibility till the day she dies, I’d assume. I’m glad Mary’s the executor of the will, though. And surprised, too.

Later…

Yesterday there were a series of anonymous calls with no messages. A little while ago there was one that was only two seconds long. It may have been a young male voice, but I couldn’t make out any words. Then I realized I didn’t block anonymous calls correctly, but I just did, though. Unless it’s Andy playing games, or unless it’s Paula which I doubt, it is the freeloaders. Paula wouldn’t call this much and she wouldn’t leave such a strange message, either. And I doubt Andy would play games with me, but you never know. My senses tell me it’s the freeloaders, but why not speak up? Why the lack of messages or inaudible two-second messages? The only time I heard voices was when that Spanish girl called with some guy in the background, and when the freeloader lady called to preach racial harmony.

Then a half-hour after the call, I heard a voice that sounded a lot like what I thought I may have heard on the phone. I don’t know. Maybe they just had company and the sick fucks got together to call me. It sounds like maybe the sick bitch over there is having people call and send pizzas to see if I still live here so she can try to have me served again.

Now for a pleasant call I got. Sweet Melanie herself gave me a call to see how I was doing. I told her that there’s been some problems and a lot of discomfort. The wire that was attached to the impacted tooth let go and Tom had to get metal cutters and snip it away. It was just hanging on the main wire. Guess there’s just not enough tooth there.

Tom was surprised that she herself called and not an aide or secretary of some kind. That was really nice of her and kind of ironic, too, seeing how I prayed to God for her to like me, too. I mean, I’m sure it’s just a coincidence and that she calls all her patients and that I’m not special to her at all, but anyway, I prayed for mutuality. What I mean by that is that I told God it can be our secret and that while she can be just as happy with her husband as I am with mine, it’d be nice if she liked me too and thought of me a lot, too. I don’t want to touch, all I want is some mutuality. I asked God for a sign if he does decide to grant my wish, but I just don’t know if this can really be considered a sign just cuz she herself called. I did call yesterday bitching about these things after all, so who knows? Just to know she thinks of me, be it sexually or not, would be totally flattering. I’d be honored to know I dominated her thoughts for a while. Like I said, I hope she’s as happy with hers as I am with mine, and I wouldn’t touch her even if she came out and told me that even though she’s married, she likes to fool around on the side. Not that she would ever do this, but this is just an example. I just would simply like to know that I’m thought of too, and that she thinks I’m attractive too, and that she fantasizes about chatting, cuddling, and maybe even some physical fun, too. If she’d lay there at night and think of me beside her, I’d be honored. If she’d wish I was there to chat with her, I’d be flattered.

Later…

Well, it doesn’t look like we’ll be getting any pizzas tonight. Maybe after we get pizza #4, I should leave a note out there saying, “We didn’t order any pizzas, but next door did.”

THURSDAY, MARCH 12, 1998 This is definitely the hottest day of the year so far. It’s in the 80s and even in the house, it’s warm.

No more toughie here in the teeth department. Just when I thought braces would be a breeze, they were a nightmare yesterday! My inner lips were so sore from the braces rubbing against them. The sides of my tongue were sore, too, cuz the brackets rub against them. So I’ve been waxing them to death and using Anbesol to numb my lips and tongue, but the stuff only lasts for 15 minutes. I called the dentist’s office and they upped my appointment to Monday. Today’s been better, though, cuz I’m finally getting better at waxing them and after having them thoroughly waxed for several hours, it’s been easier on the sores. The braces really have their sharp points so the wax helps to keep the lips from scraping along them. Maybe my lips and tongue will toughen up to them, but I may tell Melanie the next time I see her, to just take them off.

I talked to Tammy and Paula. They say it’s cold and of course, I laughed my ass off at them.

Later…

I’m gonna try to eat what I can of the last of my chicken wings, but then I’m gonna have nothing but liquids and things like soup and bananas, cuz my jaw is so sore.

That stupid, stupid freeloader. Still doesn’t get it? No prob. Tonight he’ll just have to lose some sleep. He came in at a semi-soft volume, but I know his patterns. That semi-soft volume will lead to a semi-obnoxious one, then an outrageous one. What if I go over there and not beat them up, but tell them that either they shut up with the music or they get evicted and lose their subsidy? Will that do it? Or am I right when I say the only thing that’ll work is my fists?

Why is it that these people decided from day one that they’d harass me? I never did shit to them (not till they provoked me to). Why wouldn’t these people want to get along with their neighbors? Why be so selfish and ask for problems? I just can’t wait till the day, be it here or after we move, that I finally get to sink my fists into those black eyes, noses, and mouths!!!

He won’t leave again till sixish, then he’ll return at around 7:30. I’ll let you know just how much I hear of his departure and arrival, of course.

Got a letter from Kim. She got a job in Holyoke as an allergy nurse (she ought to come take care of mine) but isn’t seeing anyone still. Well, contrary to Andy, I don’t think she’ll be alone forever, but I just can’t picture her having kids. She just doesn’t seem like your stereotypical mom, although she sort of looks like one. Not totally, but a little bit.

They say a Pacific storm will be sweeping through. Saturday might be cool, cloudy, and damp, but Sunday will be beautiful and it’ll be warming up again.

Later…

I’m making mashed potatoes now. All I can have are soft foods.

Was that a freeloader that just tried to call? I unblocked the anonymous call reject. Paula comes up as anonymous, but we just talked and she usually leaves a message. Andy just told me he’ll unblock his line whenever he calls, so we’ll see.

I would say that yes, our lovely freeloaders were told of my complaint and for it, I’ve gotten screams, honks, ball bounces, door slams, and a pizza. At least there’s been no music yet and the more I think about it, the more I’m not sure if the semi-soft music I heard around 4:00 was the freeloader.

As for the anonymous call, it could’ve been Paula or Andy, but my senses tell me it was freeloader-related. I just smell a freeloader involved here and I know a freeloader when I smell one. So on goes the anonymous call reject again. Let them get up the guts to leave their number or come to me face to face.

Like I said, there was a lot of door slamming, and yes, warmer weather always stirs them up, but they did something they don’t usually do on a weekday and this is how I figure it’s cuz of the complaint. They sat in the car and honked a few times to add to the door slams, and I could hear several loud voices and a ball bouncing for a few minutes. The voices were for more than just a few minutes, though. More like 15 minutes. Maybe they had company, cuz there was this female freeloader’s voice that I’ve heard before from over there (I don’t know if it’s the one who left those messages a few weeks ago or not) and I thought I also heard a boy of around 8 years old.

Then the doorbell rang while they were still out and about. I guess I can smell a freeloader better over the phone than through the door, cuz if I could’ve known for sure it was one of them, I’d have beaten the crap out of them even with their little friends there. But as a rule, I don’t answer the door. I don’t answer sales calls or anyone that I’m not expecting.

I have two theories as to what it was all about and both are freeloader-related. I cut the light and looked out and saw a blazer-like vehicle in the driveway and thought it could be someone from the courts again. I agree with Tom, though, that it was probably a pizza by the way they knocked and rang the bell so persistently. This is the third pizza, if that was what it really was, that we didn’t order. So, let me guess - they got together with their mutually sick little buddies and decided to have fun with me on the phone. But since I didn’t answer, they decided to order me a pizza while they sat out front and watched. And it was about the right length of time, too. Meaning, that the time I heard them out there was about the time it’d take to place the order, and then to get it to me.

Later…

Oh, what a lucky, lucky freeloader! I just heard really, really loud music, ran out front ready to kill, and saw that the security light was on but didn’t hear no car doors or see a soul. Then Tom said that to him, he heard the song which was an oldie. They certainly don’t listen to oldies and with them, it’s all bass and no music. Then we heard what we’re pretty sure was the same car (probably cruising for drugs) and there was no security light, car door, or freeloader, so it was definitely some other lonely desperado.

One unfortunate thing I have learned, though, and that’s that he is allowed to be there after all. Unless she just claimed he’s just a visitor, and unless they didn’t come out to check, he can obviously be there.

Now my mom says she’s got 10 boxes on their way to us!

Here we go again with Andy and his daily calls. Called to tell me he was psyched to see Quinn tonight. I’m thinking - whoopee! Like I really care? I mean, I’m happy he’s happy, but he’s just got no self-respect. Also, this could’ve waited till next week. I told him I’d call him then.

Boy, if Andy read the stuff I’ve written about him lately, he’d be so pissed. I understand his point, though, but yet I have a point, too.

Tom and I discussed a new moving plan to get us out of here in about a year. We were originally gonna get a trailer, then build a guest house to move into, then the main house to move into. However, we’ll probably just go ahead and get right into a nice mobile home, then build the main house (the mobile home will become a guest house).

As I said, I talked to Paula. It was nice to talk to her, as always, but she’s still the same old Paula. Dating a 19-year-old who’s in jail for being a murder suspect, screaming at the kid and telling me she hates herself for having that kid. But still, she can handle a kid more than I ever could. She can keep a schedule. She also deserves it more cuz she has nothing, and I mean nothing! God knows this, too.

She said she was in Florida for a while visiting a friend who was a neighbor, who was bitchy, so she left early and dyed her hair red.

There’s also a serial killer on the loose in Springfield. She let me hear the 11:00 news and I guess that there were 3 black women and one white woman killed. Paula’s not too thrilled about it cuz they were all mothers in projects.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 11, 1998 I did some singing a little while ago. The braces don’t really influence it one way or the other. The inside of the bracket, though, is just a wee bit too sharp and sticks out just a wee bit too much. Especially on the right side. I’m gonna see if she can adjust it. Meanwhile, I’m waxing the thing, but it’s not that easy. I can reach it easily enough, but I can’t get the wax to stick to it that well. It either falls off or is too thin at the pointy part. If it weren’t for the anchoring brackets, I’d probably already be used to these things.

Later…

We had a power failure earlier, so I had to set most of the clocks. I haven’t done the one on my stereo yet, and I’ll let Tom deal with the VCR one. It looks like the power failure killed the sound machine in the bedroom, but not the lamp that’s plugged into the same outlet. It fucking figures, huh? Of all the things plugged in to kill, it had to be a sound machine. Well, it could’ve been worse. It could’ve been my stereo or one of the computers. Fortunately, this happened after I got up, cuz power failures always wake someone like me up. Suddenly the fan’s gone and is replaced by cars, bumps, bangs, barks, etc., and awake I am.

Lately, it seems that something’s gone the opposite of how it used to be and is determined to protect my sleep. Not that I can complain about that one! The obsession God, or whatever, had with waking me up began slowly and ended slowly. It started around 1991, then was at its peak from early 1992 to late 1993, then tapered off around 1994. At least if I do wake up too soon, like that time I had diarrhea, my heart doesn’t feel like it’s gonna jump right out of my chest and my lungs don’t wheeze like hell. But if I had to do this every day for 4 or more months with a baby, that’d be different. We’d both be run down, cranky, and even sick. He’d very well lose his job. Not just due to being too tired to go in, but due to all the colds we’d both have. Babies and kids are always sick so we’d be sick a lot, too. Tom would go from having a few colds a year to a few colds a month! God may make mistakes by having 12-year-olds have babies, but he sure hit it right by sterilizing me! Oh, the blessings of it after all!

Later…

Tom, who is also good with people, noticed a pattern with Andy. Andy’s always seemed to take pleasure in telling people that things will be painful, and to him, everything is painful. So when I told Tom that he said getting the braces put on would be painful, Tom said that when I told Andy they weren’t painful, Andy would say, “No. It’s not getting them on that hurts. It’s when they tighten them.” True to pattern, this is what Andy said. I wonder why he likes to see others have to anticipate pain, though? I mean, that’s not very nice. However, I do have some irritation under my lip from the braces rubbing against them. Guess it’ll take time for them to get used to the rubbing and harden up to it.

As Tom agreed and said, most people are liars and most of what they say are lies. So on the 18th, when the time we agreed on is up, I’m sure he still won’t have made his appointment, but you know what? I hope he doesn’t. I mean, I want him to get checked out to be sure he’s OK and all that, but I just don’t want to deal with a child at this time. Maybe I’ll bitch about the child I can’t have after we’ve moved, but right now would be a horrible time to have a child and like I said, I want peace and quiet. Not to have to sit and listen to a demanding, fussy child cry. I want my freedom and to live life. I want my sleep. I don’t want to be tied down and miserable. I just want a child to be the thought and talk it always has been. Not a reality. Not anymore. Not at this time, anyway.

I also have to do what I feel the man I love wants, too. I want him to be happy, and cumming regularly and the idea of going to a fertility doctor has always seemed to make him anything but happy. Well, if he ever asks me if I still want a child, no matter what the truth is, I’m gonna tell him what he wants to hear and what I’ve seen to make him happiest and what I believe will make him happiest. And I know what can and can’t be, too (at least we’ll never have to face the birth control dilemma!).

Later…

These braces really are a bitch, what with how the knobby parts of the brackets dig into my tongue and lips. I hope they callous up and I get used to this shit real damn fast!

Our door-slamming freeloader is here. That’s the hardest slam in a while too, so maybe the reason why there’s no music and heavy door slamming again is cuz they heard about a certain letter. I figured that if they heard about the letter and felt it was worth turning the music down for, in exchange for it, they’d pick up with their slamming. I’d rather that, though, than their music, since they’re so desperate for my attention and for me to acknowledge that they exist.

That may not have been the freeloader cock after all, but the freeloader bitch, getting dropped off for the day. Yeah, I can see her as being much more of a door slammer with her aggressive ways.

In my ma’s email to me, she said congrats on the braces and congrats to Tom for his promotion. Also, she’s got 3 packages coming to me. Wow!

Later…

I spoke to Tammy earlier and she says it’s cold. I laughed. I told her how beautiful it is here in the 80s.

I was just outside playing with the cats. Meaning, White Feet and Blackie. I should call him White Paws, though, cuz I like that better. They came into the house for a bit, but I still can’t just sit there and pat them. I can get right up to White Paws, though, where I’m brushing his fur. Blackie’s less aggressive and friendlier, but she’s a timid one.

Just to back up to what I meant by when I said in my last journal that the girl who does my teeth is Melanie Marie Something. By “Something” I meant that I couldn’t see her last name on her diplomas. All I could see was that her last name began with a C before she was married, and now it begins with a W.

Tom said Ma had a seizure cuz she’s been dropping pills. She’d shove several pills into her mouth at once without realizing she was dropping some. Then after the seizure and finding pills all over, she realized she wasn’t getting all her medication as she assumed.

I hope she’ll be better and will live longer than a year. Tom thinks she doesn’t have too much time left. Maybe so, but a couple more years seems more logical. However, whether she goes now or later down the road, God will set us up to take care of someone else and it won’t be our child. Thank God!

What a gorgeous day that was. Getting a bit chilly out there now, though. The warmer weather stirred up the kids two yards down for a while as it usually does till it gets really hot. Again, I enjoyed how they couldn’t be heard in the house and how there was no dog next door.

Unbeknownst to me, till I checked, el cock pulled in shortly after the bitch’s ride pulled out. He’s not in for the night, though. Lately, instead of coming in for lunch, he goes back out for a while in the early evenings. Also, you’d think that if they’ve heard about the letters we sent, you’d think that they’d want to shut up, cuz it’d seem logical that keeping that house would be more important to them than harassing me. I also can’t read their minds to know if they really do hear me when I’ve made a racket at night, know why, and don’t like it. On the other hand, noise doesn’t bother them and these brazen fucks just don’t care. They think they can do whatever they want however they want to whomever they want.

Later…

The freeloader just left. I heard a car door, although not so loud this time. I bet you, though, that when he comes back and pulls into the carport and is right alongside the house, he’ll slam the living shit out of it.

Guess I’ll go do some proofreading and read some of my library book, too.

And think of Melanie Marie. Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband and wouldn’t touch another soul and would die without him, but a little eye candy on the side never hurt.

TUESDAY, MARCH 10, 1998 Well, Andy was wrong. He told me I had no idea how painful it was to have braces put on. That’s what he, Jai, and others have said that have had braces. Andy thinks everything’s painful, though, and likes to tell people they’re gonna be in pain. Anyway, it wasn’t painful at all. Not really even uncomfortable, either. The only cons to it were that it took an hour and a half, which felt like 5 hours, the cleaners they put on the teeth tasted nasty, and they feel weird. They’re gonna take some getting used to, and I suppose singing will feel a bit strange, too.

Another bummer is that even non-stick gum gets caught in the braces. Thank God it’s been a whole 5 months since I quit and that I don’t miss the damn things and aren’t as addicted to gum like I was the first 3 and a half months after quitting. I’ll be switching to Tic-Tac Mints instead. My teeth aren’t sore, but they are if I try to chew gum.

I got colorful braces, too. The braces themselves are traditional metal, but the bands under and around them are plastic and colored. She rotated colors - pink, purple and blue. As Tom pointed out, they look like little gemstones. I referred to myself as Brace Face at one point and Tom said he likes Wiremouth better. OK. Whatever.

Tom and I discussed it and in a year or two, I’m gonna go for it and get my crooked bottom teeth straightened out as well!

The bonus to having this shit done is that Miss Gorgeous herself is the one doing it. The doc came in to check things out, but other than that, she does all the ortho. Her name is Melanie Marie Something and she’s 27, has had braces herself and has nice teeth, has nice brown eyes (has a nice face, for that matter), has long brown curly hair, is about 5’ 6”, and is married. I was surprised too, but sometimes people you don’t think would be married, are married. She just seems the single type. Anyway, she’s been doing what she does for 8 years and I’m glad I get to stick with the same person (she says she’s sure she’ll be there forever) cuz then I feel more comfortable.

Anyway, I’ll have the braces on for a year, give or take a few months. Some people’s teeth move faster than others. After the braces come off, I’ll be wearing a retainer for a year, then just at night. She said it only took her a few days to get used to her braces.

She gave me a kit that contains a toothbrush for traveling, a regular toothbrush, and a little one with just a few bristles on it for cleaning the braces. There were also things to thread the floss behind the wires so I can floss easily, not that I ever really do. And lastly, she gave me some wax for the pointy parts. The brackets on the back molars that anchor the bands and wires have a pointy part that kind of scrapes my tongue, so I wax that part.

Nonetheless, I’m glad I’m getting this out of the way and again, I’m really glad I don’t have a child to bog me down and make things like this and our moving plans even harder to do. You hear of so many people whose plans were shot cuz they found out they were pregnant. The plan is to buy the land in about a year, give or take a few months, then live in a mobile home for a few months while we build a small house. Then we’d move into the small house while we built the final, bigger house. Then the small house would become a guest house.

Later…

Tom got a new job within the bank. It’s not so much a new job, but he’s gonna be the boss of his shift, which consists of 2-3 people, cuz the guy that’s been the boss of the shift, has left. So his hours will hopefully stabilize. He may work more like 2 AM - 10 AM. He’ll get to have more say in his schedule. And a raise, too.

Mom’s gonna be sending packages of stuff she’s not taking to the new house. One of them is on its way.

Thank God Tom’s different and so easy to please, cuz any other guy probably would’ve been pissed about last night. Tom said he’d like to eat, digest, then have fun around midnight, but come 11:00 I was beat and ended up crashing on the poor guy!

I hear Tweety filing his beak.

MONDAY, MARCH 9, 1998 Sleep well, my little freeloaders! For I am going to be waking you up in just half an hour. God, I hope so, but I don’t know. Wouldn’t God be waking me up as a payback, if I were really waking them up? Well, I can still try, anyway, and it at least makes me feel like I’m waking them up.

Anyway, I can’t get that girl off my mind. The one that put my spacers in all the way. I don’t know her name and don’t really remember what she looks like, but she totally turned me on. I do remember her to have really pretty brown eyes and a nice body. She’s probably in her 20s. She had nice teeth herself. Something about her mannerisms and the way she moved too, was a turn-on. I hope I’ll be seeing her again, whoever she is.

Later…

Guess I really am wasting my time with the waking up of the freeloaders. They either slept through all that pummeling, or they knew it was just me and didn’t want to give me the satisfaction of coming out to check. No one came out to look around, that much I’m sure of. Then I remembered how they slept through their dog yipping away for hours when it’d get loose.

I couldn’t tell for sure who it was, but someone went banging by real loud at around noon. If that was the freeloader, who usually starts back up after a quiet spell by having his music at a so-so volume like yesterday, then an outrageous one, things are gonna be hell around here again. I still say that the only way to solve this problem once and for all is with my fists. No city letter is gonna do it as long as we’re here and he’s in the picture.

I have a damn good accuracy rate when it comes to my vibes pertaining to them and I feel more and more that not only will she be there till we move, but so will he. It’d only take two minutes to end this stress and problem with blasting music once and for all. Either way, they will be facing my fists one of these days. Cuz if I don’t get them while we’re here, I’ll come back one day and get them after we’ve split and they don’t know where the hell we are. Anyway, we’ll just have to see how the sick, selfish fuck comes in later, but he’s not gonna be banging in and out for lunch again, without having to pay for it in some way. I’ll think of something if I don’t bash his black brains in.

Later…

I wish Andy could be as punctual with his visits as he is with his calls. He calls me right back - and I mean right back - when I leave a message.

I forgot to mention earlier that we went to see Ma on Saturday. Her hair’s growing back and she seemed fairly with it, but she looked awful, nonetheless. Her legs are now thinner than mine. She’s lost a lot of weight and atrophy has set in, so she has a lot of trouble walking.

Later…

I spoke to Andy who lost the second key to this house that I gave him. So he might come over sometime soon so that I can give him my key to use in case we do go to California in April and in case we do need him to feed the critters. And also, to see the animated birthday card that Marla and Evan sent.

Then I got what I think is a bright idea. I don’t know if Tom will agree with me just so he can have yet another thing to disagree with me on, or for some other reason I haven’t thought of, but just for a few days, I think my plan will work out just fine.

We can take out the floor tube in the mice’s cage that leads to the aquarium to prevent them from getting down there. Then we can put the pig in the aquarium and Bunny in the big hutch. We can’t put them in together, unfortunately, if Bunny’s just gonna go charging Velvet.

Since I quit smoking, God has not given me a day off from these fucking allergies! Every day I have sneezing fits. He just won’t give me a break!

I finally took a dump, but I’m hanging up my diet. I couldn’t lose weight if I tried, but that’s just the thing - I did try. My thighs and stomach just won’t take to the exercises that are best recommended for those areas and I gained back the few pounds I lost. Again, I know something up there doesn’t want exercises to work for me. And it doesn’t want me thin again. Like I said, I’ll never be thin again. Never. And just when I think I will, something up there’s like, “Oh yeah? That’s what you think!”

And back to reality I’m thrown.

I thought I just heard a car door next door but didn’t see a car when I peeked out just now.

I won’t have to hold Laura’s rent money anymore. Gary put a deadbeat on Andy’s closet before he left to hit the road again to sell his jewelry.

Andy’s still lowering himself by seeing Quinn. He says he’s not a druggie anymore and has become this oh-so polite, sweet, human guy, but still - how can one be that desperate to stoop down to a person that abused them no matter how attracted they are to the person?

I feel a dump coming on, and I figured that I’d shit like hell once it started up again, to make up for lost time. What am I gonna do now? Shit 4 times in one day, then not shit for 4 days?

Later…

Just took dump #2. Well, at least I’m getting it out of my system. Maybe this is why I put my weight back on, but I don’t see myself ever being thin again. Well, I don’t know.

As I was saying about Andy and Quinn - I guess I shouldn’t talk. I was desperate for rides and for any help I could get from Nervous that I put up with his mouth. Nervous and I were both desperate, but in different ways for different reasons. The difference today, though, is that I wouldn’t get involved in the first place with a loser like Nervous, even if we did have some good chats and even if he was helpful. Andy should know better by now, but he feels that Quinn’s better than being alone. That’s sad. And such a lousy attitude. He said he knows he’s not in love with him anymore and that it’s purely a lust thing. He said he can’t get by anymore with sex just twice a year. He says he needs it once a month and that masturbating doesn’t cut it for him anymore.

I told him yet again, I don’t want a big deal out of a visit. I don’t want to play phone constantly leading up to our visit and I don’t want to wait hours for him. Then he went on to tell me how he ended up late for a visit with Quinn cuz his laundry didn’t dry in time, etc. In other words, he’s gonna come over when he says so and not when we agree to meet.

Later…

Well, I did lose a pound of those few I had gained back, so I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m being teased with losing weight here. Anyway, I did my stomach and thigh exercises cuz even though they’re thoroughly useless, they make me feel like I’m at least putting forth my best effort.

It’s totally gorgeous outside now and they say it’ll get up to the mid-80s in a couple of days.

The freeloaders and possible freeloader company could be arriving any sec now, so I’m gonna go up front and read not only cuz that’s what I want to do now, but to get a good handle on how they come in. Although one may be able to get a so-called good handle on how they come in, from a whole 3 blocks away.

Later…

Got a Bob letter saying how sorry he is for being short with me in his last letter. He asked for a lie detector test and truth serum but was denied these things, etc. Same old sob story.

Anyway, it looks like that bitch of a cat may be ready to drop any time now. Tom says it’ll be more than two kittens, too. And I still say she’ll have them here and that her first two won’t kill them.

Also, the basketball hoop is gone from the backyard where the guard dogs are. I looked to see if they moved it up front, but didn’t see it. I sure as hell hope it wasn’t just something they were borrowing or that it broke, cuz then where are they gonna go? Right next door. And March, April and May tend to stir up kids and bring them out onto the streets. Of course, this warming trend’s also gonna stir up a certain pack of freeloaders, as well.

Later…

El cock hasn’t arrived yet.

Anyway, I did some jump roping and gained back that pound I thought I lost. Yup, something’s teasing me. Well, whatever you are, there are worse things in life than weighing 126 pounds.

Later…

So far, no freeloader. I hope to hell that this means that he’s taken off for a while and his music yesterday was just to let me know this. He does that at times - lets me know when there’s a change to come. Nonetheless, this bastard’s been there since what? Last May? So I’m well overdue for a break from the little shit.

Now I see where the basketball hoop’s been moved to. They moved it from facing us at halfway down their yard to facing the back up by their patio. It’s skinny from the side, so one could easily miss it and not know it was there like in my case. I discovered it cuz I could hear the kids screaming and could see the ball go flying towards it. Thank God I can’t hear their screams and the ball bouncing in the house. After the bass shit, I can deal with listening to kids as long as they’re not right outside the house, but just think, what if they had been our neighbors all along? That’d be a nightmare! So things could be much, much worse with the neighbor situation. All those kids and those two loud dogs would make the Mormons seem like mutes. Not to mention the constant car doors, since the parents drop the kids off and pick them up daily after they babysat them all day.

Miss Bitch cat is still hanging at the side of the house where she had the other two. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had them at night, so I’ll take a flashlight out and check periodically.

Later…

The freeloader’s here. I heard the car door earlier.

SUNDAY, MARCH 8, 1998 It’s now my favorite time - Sunday evening. It’s also about time I got updated in here, too. Let me get our beautiful neighbors out of the way first. I could’ve said it was a peaceful weekend, until 4 hours ago at 4:00 when he based out. He returned quietly, so he wasn’t telling me he was leaving like he sometimes does by playing the music at a so-so, but still unacceptable and distracting volume. Well, he’s gonna have to be woken up tonight. I didn’t want to, cuz I’d prefer to do other things, but come 1 AM, he’s gonna have to hear me. As long as it takes for it to sink through his thick black skull that music means a wake-up call is as long as I’ll make myself heard in return for hearing them. And it was definitely him and not company, cuz I saw him. So what’s this? If company doesn’t bang in or out on Sundays, then he will?

Thank God there’s no dog there. Yet.

Tom fixed the back screen door which was coming off its hinge and he changed the pig’s cage while I did the mice.

Earlier, I took Velvet outside and he and Bunny were nose to nose saying hello to each other. Bunny was nice, too, since he was outside. He runs up to me a lot to pat his nose and to remind me, as Tom says, that he’s still my Bunny.

We only screwed once over the weekend, and again, I faked an orgasm. I don’t know what’s suddenly deflated my sexual appetite, but I’m hardly ever horny. And when I am, he’s either not here or is asleep, so I end up taking care of myself. I kind of like it, though, not having the higher drive that I had before. Like I said, it seems to snuff out the baby desires and we can’t have sex too much more than once a week anyway since he’s busy and since my schedule doesn’t always match his. Keeping the sex down to once every week or two keeps things more exciting. He never had much of a drive himself anyway, and he did not want to get off at all this weekend. I understand, though. If I were this normal woman he thinks I am, I could’ve gotten pregnant and I still think he doesn’t want a kid. It just may be a deep-rooted subconscious thing that he isn’t consciously aware of. It probably is, the more I think about it. He doesn’t know he doesn’t want a kid. I know, though, and the idea appeals to me less and less, too. I just don’t know if I really want to put up with all it’d entail these days. I want life, peace, tranquility. A child is not only something I couldn’t handle but why bring anything into the picture that could come in between Tom and I? I don’t want to risk or ruin a good thing. Yeah, we have our disagreements, but still, our marriage is too good to be altered in any big risky way.

We would’ve ended up screwing on Saturday, the day most likely for baby-making if I were normal, but due to our way of communicating, we didn’t (not that he’d have necessarily cum either, cuz he probably wouldn’t have). This got me thinking, though. We had agreed to go out to do errands at a particular time. Then he said he was gonna go lay down right around that time (this freeloader’s getting on my nerves with his door slamming again)! Anyway, I told him I thought we were gonna leave at that time and he said OK, we could leave at the original time we said we would. So we did. Then when we came back and got around to laying down together, he was too tired to really get it up (or too scared to as well). Now here’s what proves I’m right about God not wanting to help me and why I’m glad I don’t want a kid too much these days anyway. It’s cuz God could’ve seen to it that we did get together at a good time and that he did cum and that a baby was made. Although a child is still something I don’t deserve, not in my cards, couldn’t handle, don’t really want as much anymore, and that would be wrong for me, maybe I am fertile. Maybe I really, really am OK and for some reason, God’s just protecting me from a child and making sure I don’t conceive, rather than sterilize me or anyone that’s gotten off in me during my life. Maybe he doesn’t have to. Maybe it’s simpler for him than I can imagine. Maybe all he has to do is just think in his mind how he doesn’t want a sperm to connect with one of my eggs cuz a child isn’t in my destiny, and then it’s a done deal.

Tom and I were talking earlier and he was telling me that he believes he and I can do anything we want and that if we believe we can’t do something, then we can’t. He also says that most people in general find it more fulfilling to dream about something than to do it. I always wished I was one of those people, cuz almost all my dreams were impossible dreams, but now I feel more and more satisfied with just dreaming about a child, cuz I know what the consequences would be for actually having one.

I’m gonna do everything I can do to go along with God and make sure I never have a child, whether it hurts or not, cuz if he feels I don’t deserve one, I feel I don’t deserve one. And it’s true. I don’t. I have other blessings that I do deserve and God can’t spoil one by giving them everything they want. Also, I always got off on punishing myself, so to speak. I don’t know why I do it, but it’s something my instinct has always told me to do. So to be cruel to myself, in a sense, and deny myself the right to a child (along with God), will make me feel stronger and I believe it’ll score points with God too, cuz that’s also doing the right thing. It’s when I do wrong and go against his plans for me (or try to) that trouble comes. That real trouble comes.

I have been stuck for the longest time in quite a while, but hell if I’ll take laxatives and get sick in order to shit! I’ve been taking Metamucil, but so far it hasn’t helped. The weird but nice thing about it is that my weight’s still down. However, it’s obviously not gonna be down to 122 this Wednesday like it should be, so once again, something up there doesn’t want me losing weight. Every time I think I just may be able to shed this weight, something happens to remind me that it just isn’t gonna happen. Chances are excellent, especially as long as I don’t smoke, that I’ll never be thin again, and I just have to accept this like it or not. Anyway, I’ll shit when my body’s ready to. Maybe all this typing which I haven’t done in a few days will help because as I said before, banging on the keyboard always seems to bring on a dump.

Got a letter from a very unhappy Bob who said something along the lines of how if he can’t prove himself to me and Kim, too bad. How dare I think he’s stuck his dick in anybody in the last 15 years, he’ll answer any questions but has no feelings left, etc. I know that his not having sex in 15 years is bullshit and even he’s said so, but nonetheless, he obviously took my teasing all wrong. I told him I don’t give a shit where his dick has been in the last 15 years. It’s none of my business.

So other than sending him old journal drafts from my proofreading project, I have to use them for him. Never did, anyway, other than car rides and for someone to read my old journal stuff/wacky letters. I get a real kick out of people like Fran, Nervous and him reading my journal stuff. That way I know my writing’s been put to good use and has been read by someone who will read it and I won’t be embarrassed cuz it’d be read by someone whose opinions I could care less about.

Later…

I just rearranged the mice, not just their cages, but where their cages are. They were right by the doorway separating the kitchen and back room, but now they’re by the back door. I really like this a lot better, cuz now I won’t get a whiff of their stinkiness every time I walk by them, and I walk to and from the back room and kitchen a lot more than I go in and out the back door. I think it’ll also help with their smell if they’re right by the door, too. I can also see them from the kitchen now and I’m sure that due to their inquisitive nature, they’re quite pleased with being able to see more of the house where they now are.

Yesterday, we went to Staples where he got a program that lets you design your own home, which I think is a little too soon to get, but he wanted it.

We also went to a couple of art stores where we got thinner cardboard since the one we got to do journal covers with, was too thick for the puncher. We came up with some pretty cool experimentations, though. On one so-called cover, I’ve got a desert scene, some clipart palm trees, and a picture of Norah. On another cover, I’ve got strips of pictures. A strip of Gloria, then Norah, and I rotated back and forth. Each strip of 4-6 pictures is the same picture.

Anyway, we used a type of clear contact paper, but that bunched up in certain areas. We used a spray, too, to laminate one of the covers and Tom says that dried too fast. So, I’ve been using these two covers for just decorations.

The iron-on shirts - now that was a cool project! I’d have killed to have done these in 1989 when I was really hot for Gloria. Anyway, I printed out both Norah and Gloria pictures onto iron-on sheets, then ironed them onto 3 different T-shirts. I didn’t do a very good job on some of them, but it’s still awesome!

We got a form for ordering magazines through Sarah’s Brownie troop. I’m not a magazine person like Tom is, but nonetheless, I got a Weight Watchers magazine and he got a couple of computer magazines.

Guess Tammy’s happiness has been rather short-lived. Things are civil with Bill and she’s still with Mark and is happy with him, but the problem is Lisa and Mom.

She says Lisa’s smoking. Yeah, I figured as much. No, I’m not mad, but I am disappointed, as I said before. I can understand the “hell, I’m not gonna quit, and cigarettes will never bother me” attitude. I know how it almost always takes years to quit and I can see her wanting to tell someone she looks up to that she did in fact quit when she really didn’t. Anyway, she said she told Lisa that she’d prefer she didn’t smoke for reasons that are obvious, like how it’s bad for you, but she also knows she can’t stop her. She said all she asked of Lisa was that she smoke outside and not in her room. Lisa isn’t listening, I guess, and from what Tammy says, she’s going and doing the opposite of what Tammy says. Yeah, that’s kids for you and again, do I really want one of those rebellious things? I don’t think so. I think I’d prefer to just think about it. Cuz then I don’t have to really deal with motherhood’s shit.

She said Jen stood there for 3 days and that she and Lisa had a good time, but Lisa did not end up going to Larry’s this weekend after all. Tammy said teachers at Lisa’s school were calling about her grades, etc. That’s why Tammy told Larry that maybe next weekend would be better, cuz she needed to catch up on her schoolwork.

Then she said she’s had it with Mom and is ending her contact with her. Mom was questioning her parenting, telling Tammy she’s not an RN and to send a diploma to prove it (Tammy’s really just a nurse’s aide and she has told Larry and I that she was a nurse, but since I know Tammy does hype things up, I just ignored it). She also told Tammy that 4 times she’s turned to men and asked if she was having sex with Mark.

At least she has Mark, though, cuz some people have no one and I know what that’s like, cuz I’ve been there. She agreed, but she feels alone as far as family goes. Family other than her kids. She pointed out how I’m so far away. True, and we both have mixed emotions about that, too. We’d love to see each other, but we know we have to do what we have to do. My family doesn’t have any regrets about me coming out here, either. They say it’s the ones you’re closest to that are the farthest away. If it were Larry she was closest to, he’d be the one out here.

Anyway, the only thing Ma said that I agree with, besides the fact that Tammy’s not an RN, is how Tammy does turn to men. She’s always seemed the non-independent type who’s gotta have a man.

I told her that if she wanted my advice, I’d email Mom, not call her, and tell her to fuck this diploma shit. Nurse’s aide, RN, MD - they’re all the same in the sense that they’re helping people. As long as Tammy enjoys her work, that’s what counts.

And like Tammy said, who the fuck is Mom to question her parenting, whether or not Tammy was a good parent when she was a shitty parent?! That’s something someone like my Mom would do, too, question someone else’s parenting. It helps her cover and justifies her own guilt for being a lousy mother.

I also told her she might want to tell Mom that it’s her crotch and her right to have whoever’s dick in it she wants.

FRIDAY, MARCH 6, 1998 I just spoke to Larry who said he just spoke to Dad. I was surprised, yet pleased to hear that Larry’s to be picking up Lisa and taking her to his house for the weekend since she and Jen have been talking.

This is the second winter in a row that hasn’t been too bad in New England. It was still funny how Larry said it was to make it up to a whole 40º there today. Well, it’s to be almost 40º higher here. Lately, it’s been nearly 80º and gorgeous. There were some clouds earlier and they say there may be a chance of rain till midnight, but as usual, it’ll warm up and clear up in time for a bright and sunny weekend where kids will be playing ball next door, along with their company blasting in and out, if he doesn’t start up again, too, like he very well might.

I forgot to mention this earlier, but Tom says that they just allowed gay marriages in the state of Alaska. That’s nice, cuz I don’t think anyone should have the right to tell someone who they can/can’t marry. He says that usually when one state changes a law, the rest of the states follow. Yeah, but wouldn’t that take some time?

Well, it looks like I’m stuck again here. This is the second day since I last took a shit, but I ain’t taking no damn laxatives, that’s for sure! I’ll just shit whenever I shit. It’s common for a woman to be constipated for a day or two every week or two. At least it doesn’t get absorbed into me and make me fatter like it used to. Instead, I now make up for lost time. If I skip a day without shitting, I’ll shit twice the next day to make up for it. Then it doesn’t become another factor in me gaining weight. It appears that my metabolism just might be speeding up - finally! I’m waking up a pound or two lighter like a person should. I’m at 124 and if I keep losing two pounds a week, I can be at 100 at the end of May or the beginning of June. My thigh and tummy exercises don’t seem to be helping much, though. My thighs are the size my waist should be. A whole 23”!

Later…

Tom’s home now eating lunch. It’s still kind of a dank day out there, but we’re gonna trim some hedges, anyway.

THURSDAY, MARCH 5, 1998 Andy made a big production, once again, about coming over, but like he said, thank God I wasn’t waiting for him cuz I’d have been pissed. He did make it over, though, but he came at night rather than in the afternoon. I figured as much, though. I was asleep when he came, but we didn’t plan to visit anyway, cuz of my stomach (which is better now).

He picked up Laura’s money and left my belated birthday gifts. There were two journals and they were very nice. He wrote a page in one of them, of course, and it was the nicest page ever written by him. It was neat too, cuz the first half of the page was touching and sincere, then it got crazy and made no sense.

Then I also got a box of those mini stickers. There were about 500 of them. I’ve gotten these things before, but not with these designs. I used them to decorate the inside journal covers I have, as well as envelopes. One will go to Andy with a thank you/wacky letter. Then there was another box containing sheets of 525 stickers that you colorize yourself. It came with 8 markers, too. There was one preprinted sheet, though.

Lastly, there was a lace-like blouse from Laura. I could tell it was from her cuz of the cigarette smoke. It was also her size and style, although we obviously have similar tastes in styles. I’m not her size anymore, though.

Andy will have himself a little treat next time he does come over. Marla sent an animated birthday card with sound for him. I’ve got it in my world and will play it for him next time he comes over.

Ma sent back baby carrots and shredded lettuce for the critters that were leftover from her company. They appreciated it, too.

Ma’s really beat after having company for a week, so we’re gonna let her rest up this weekend, rather than move her this weekend. God, you’re gonna have to use something else to dodge this oh-so-possible pregnancy that can happen. I’ll be mid-cycle this weekend, so since I’m oh-so normal, you’ll have to tie Tom up with something else or make sure he doesn’t get off.

I’m sure he won’t get off, though. I’ve expressed my dwindling desires for a child and how I don’t want to be bogged down with fertility doctors and a child if that were possible, cuz it’d stall us from moving sooner, from living life, and from obtaining any peace. He said he disagrees, though. Of course, he does. Nonetheless, it wouldn’t fit into our lives at this time if that were meant to be, but I know I can count on God to not extend this family.

What a cute scene I witnessed earlier. A few of the pigeons, mainly Measles, decided that they too like pellets, so she and Bunny were eating them together out of the little bowl I have out there. It was adorable and I shot some pictures of it.

El cock is still quiet with the music but is sometimes door slamming again. So, they’re having their company blast off instead, huh? However, all was quiet yesterday. I was surprised. Guess they didn’t have company that day.

Went to get my spacers put back in, and this girl, who was someone I don’t think I’ve ever seen before, was sort of rough with me. She had to be, though, cuz it turns out that that black lady didn’t put them in all the way. Guess she was too gentle with me, but this one jammed them in and put pressure on my lower lip in the midst of it that I thought it’d split on me. Then, one of the spacers broke and I got the inside of my mouth smacked with the tweezer-like tool she used to jam them in between the back molars where the bands are gonna attach to. She finally got each one in all the way. I can tell they’re in all the way too, by how I can’t feel them with my tongue, whereas I could feel them the first time around. The good news about it is that I can chew sugarless, non-stick gum without a problem and even when I get the braces. Thank God! She said that she actually encourages that to help with the muscles since the teeth will be sore.

My folks are gonna be moving into a 1-story house to make it easier on them. As I told her, I never could understand why they got a 2-story condo and not a 1-story house in the first place.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 4, 1998 And the shit goes on! Before I get to it, though, let me back up and cover the trip to the dentist first. As usual, there wasn’t much waiting time, so that was nice. Having the tooth pulled was a breeze and only took 3 seconds. There was no discomfort afterward at all. Not as long as I don’t chew in that area there won’t be. The spacers and molds they put on weren’t too comfy. She had to apply a lot of pressure to get the spacers in, which fell off. I forgot to ask if I could chew gum. The gum got stuck in one of the spacers, but what made the other one fall out, beats me. I’m gonna be really fucking pissed if I can’t chew gum during this ordeal. I have to go back tomorrow to get them put on again. What a pisser, huh?

As for the molds, when they first put the shit in your mouth, it’s like mashed potatoes, then it firms up. When it sets up enough for it to be taken out, it really tugs a lot cuz it’s kind of like vacuumed on there. The stuff also feels like it’s gonna go down your throat, too.

They also took pictures of the baby tooth before it was pulled. They gave me a regular-sized photo of it, too. The photo had 4 pictures of it at different angles.

I fell asleep last night at 8:00 and 4 hours later (it’s always that 4th hour that if any shit’s gonna wake you, it wakes you) I awoke with bad diarrhea. I had been stuck for a couple of days and took a women’s laxative that’s supposed to give you “gentle overnight relief in 6-12 hours.” Instead, I got harsh middle-of-the-night runs in 4 hours. So if I was gonna be up, so were the freeloaders. I went out back, did some banging, then fell back asleep from around 4:00 - 8:00, had some more runs, took a shower, ate a pork chop and had coffee, had more runs, then called Tom about getting me something for this shit after he’s done bringing Neva and Peggy to the airport to go back to Michigan.

I also told Andy that today wasn’t a good day for visiting, but that I’d leave his money out for him.

Daddy cat roams around the yard a lot more these days and now there’s some new female cat that’s hanging around here, too! Jesus, we’re gonna be overrun with cats!

I don’t know if the mice were worried about me or what, but earlier, they were pretty active for it being daytime.

Later…

Tom’s gone to bed. He’s pretty bushed.

I still have to see Andy come get his money to believe it.

My stomach’s just getting better and I ate my way back up to 123 to get my strength back. Hopefully, that’s all I’ll get back up to. Tom brought home some stuff for diarrhea if it acts up again.

All’s quiet around here now till the freeloaders come home. And till some other stereo cruises by. Again, I would think it was the weekend if I didn’t know any better. I must’ve heard 3-4 stereos breeze by.

We’ve changed our moving plans and I’ve decided that I’m just not gonna go to no fertility specialist. Not now. Not ever. I have to sit back and look at it realistically. I just could never handle a kid. Not after all I’ve gone through. I need peace and stability in my life. Not chaos and stress.

So I told Tom it’d be good to pick out doctors in case say I get an infection or something and need antibiotics. There were originally 3 steps to the plan where he was to get a check-up, then I was to get a check-up, then we were to see the fertility people. I told him we could do the first two steps and drop the last one. He then said why not do the first two, then decide whether or not we want to do the last one? Well, I know he’s fine not doing the last one. Meanwhile, we have enough going on and there’s no way we could fit a child into our plans, anyhow, regardless of what he says. He’s my husband. He’s supposed to tell his wife she can do/have something she mentions doing/having. But in reality, I wouldn’t let them fix me now if they could. I’ve had enough. It’s now onto practical things that can be done that I can handle and that’d be in my best interest as well as the interest of those associated with me.

It was gonna be 12-18 months, so he says as lousy as he is with timetables, when we were gonna use the stock money to buy the land and new house with, then the sale of the house money for new furniture and a pool.

However, if we want to split sooner, like in maybe 8-9 months (although that seems like just a dream) then maybe we could use the stock money to buy the land and get a cheap trailer. Live in the trailer for 3-4 months while we built the new house, a smaller house than we originally planned. And get new furniture. Then we could take the sale of this house money and use that to rebuild a bigger home, and then the smaller one can become a guest house. The only real delay will be putting in a pool, but if I had to choose between being delayed a pool, versus getting the fuck out of here, you know which one I’d choose. Besides, we can always get a huge kiddy pool or an above-ground pool like Tom mentioned. I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait and see and I’ll let you know what happens as it eventually happens, OK?

Oh, brother! Here we go again with the upset belly. Thank God Tom brought home the stuff he did, although I could’ve used it 14 hours ago. Is this shit ever gonna get out of my system? It’s amazing what laxatives can do to you!

TUESDAY, MARCH 3, 1998 Again, God answered my sleep schedule prayers. That’s really nice of him, but why that and not the one with the child? It’s just not something I could handle, so I guess it doesn’t matter.

Anyway, they pull my teeth later today, etc. I’ll write about how that goes, of course.

Yesterday I got mail from both Kim and Bob.

We left yesterday at 8:00 and went to Wal-Mart. He didn’t find anything he wanted, but I got 3 pairs of panties and one pair of pink sweatpants.

I also got a new cage for the mice, a couple of T-tubes, and a Snap-On feeder. The cage came with a Snap-On wheel, litter, food, treats, a care guide, and nibble sticks. I should’ve figured as much too, since the other cages came with similar stuff. The wheel, though, is about as bad as the one I used to have that Mary gave me. It scrapes and squeaks and doesn’t run smoothly at all. That’s OK, though, cuz it’s mainly for looks. Just to have another accessory and a place for them to hang out. I got one pink T-tube and one that’s reddish pink. The little house has the same purple bass and blue bottle, but this time, instead of a purple dish/burrow and orange door, I got an orange dish/burrow and a purple door. It’s so nice to have a door again with a clasp that isn’t broken and it’s nice to have two of these dishes/burrows. They absolutely love the different colored little nibble sticks, that’s for sure. The feeder, which is magenta like the wheel, is really cool. You fill the top of it with food and it slowly dispenses itself towards the bottom as they eat what’s there.

I realized afterward I forgot to look at puzzles, but I did get a really cool dog mug. The only reason I did is that its really cool pink/purple background caught my eye. It really stands out against the others with its bright colors and this one’s a poodle.

Then we went to the library where some stereotypical tall, anorexic-thin, blond model was getting a photoshoot done for reasons we don’t know.

Later…

Today and yesterday were beautiful days of near 80º. On the flip side, I’d think today was Saturday or Sunday if I didn’t know any better. All those fucking mother-fucking stereos! Imagine, though, how much worse it’d be with the stereo situation if I were still on Locust St. or Oswego St. Good God! I’ll bet they not only blast by a million times more than they do here, but many cars sit there while waiting to pick someone up, or while gabbing with someone on the street, all the while the damn bass is thumping.

At least the guard dogs don’t bark every other 5 minutes. Usually, that is. Sometimes they still do. I’m surprised that the kids that live there or are brought there for the daycare thing they do aren’t out on the monkey bars or playing ball every day in their backyard.

When I went outside earlier, I didn’t see Bunny right away. Then he popped up from his hole underground. It was so cute. Then he did something weird - he filled in this hole. I wonder why? Anyway, Tom says that now that he can dig “real” rabbit holes to where he can submerge his whole body, he can survive the summer heat. He knows this from when his family raised, slaughtered, and ate rabbits.

I got 9 different address labels with my address on them, plus a catalog from Colorful Images. God, they really want my business.

I should do some proofreading now, but instead, I shall go read my library book.

Later…

Believe me when I say I am in one foul mood, cuz that’s exactly what I am. I have the freeloaders to mainly thank for that and it’s really too bad that 99% of them can’t be like the sweet black girl that was the dentist’s assistant today. Most of them are nothing but sick, lazy, selfish, rude scum and if that’s being a bigot, then that’s exactly what I am. And I’m damn proud of it, too!

Now that he’s not blasting me out as much, they’re having their friends do it. They must’ve just found out I wasn’t served, cuz if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear it was the weekend. I don’t know how he came in today, cuz he came in before we returned, and there was some car parked on the street, too, in front of their house. Then the bitch and kid came in with some green car, according to Tom who peeked out, and the bass was totally obnoxious, so she obviously doesn’t have a problem with it after all. Then after trying so hard not to go over there and beat the snot out of them, which was so incredibly hard! I mean I never wanted to beat the shit out of them so bad! I was headed out the door, too, but then I said to myself - OK, I’ll keep my promise to Tom and not lay a hand on them, but I’m gonna make their lives hell. I’m not gonna just sit and take it anymore. Then another car went banging out, which Tom said was another car. I should’ve looked myself, cuz I wonder if it was really him that banged out. He’s always covered for him. Or tries to, anyway. And I could’ve sworn I heard him return, too, but with no music. On the other hand, his car was parked in the carport when we returned and that meant he was in for the night.

I’m so fucking sick of these people and I’m telling you, I’m not gonna take another two years of this shit! Oh, I am gonna kick the shit out of them, alright. Just as soon as we move I’m gonna come back and hurt them. Cuz if I don’t, I’m gonna live with this anger forever. Not kicking their asses will keep it bottled up forever, but I’ll tell you one thing for sure and that’s that I am gonna make one hell of a racket every night that I’m up. If these people are gonna be an everyday part of my life by force, I’ll force myself on them right back.

I banged like hell at the side of the house after Tom ran up to get me some wine coolers and him some soda, so I wouldn’t have to sit and listen to him tell me that I’m being just as bad as they are, cuz I don’t care!

And also, I’ve written my own letter to the city. I know it won’t do me any good, but I had to do something to get my anger out, so I don’t lose it, then get shot by one of their sick friends who are just as sick as they are. I wouldn’t put it past a sick freeloader like this to know gang members and have them shoot someone. So, I’ll come back one night when we move and they can’t find us. And they won’t be able to go to the post office and get a forwarding address for a buck for sure, cuz we’ll have a PO Box. There won’t be no mail carriers where we’re going. I’ll still kill them if there is, though, if only in my fantasies.

Meanwhile, I told the city in my letter to them that this has been a continual problem, there are several people coming and going with loud stereos, we contacted them before, and it helped a little bit at first, so please help take care of this problem once and for all, etc.

This isn’t exactly how I worded my letter, but it’s the basic idea of what I said in my 10-or-so-line letter.

Another thing that really gets to me is what if I wanted a kid as bad as I used to and what if I could conceive? There’s no way I would have a child here with these sick fucks at my side even if I could, and the reason it really gets to me is cuz I don’t like being controlled! Well, fortunately preventing me from getting pregnant is not something I have to pray for or work at. It’s a done deal and for once, I look forward to Tom dodging fertility people. If I’m ever gonna deal with that issue again, it’s not gonna be till after we’re out of here.

Meanwhile, I’m sure I’ll know it when they get in tomorrow, too, cuz I know this is gonna return to being an everyday thing. How am I gonna keep myself from beating them to bloody pulps when they wake me up?

MONDAY, MARCH 2, 1998 Thank God it’s Monday! In just two hours we’ll be going toy shopping for the mice, and to the library.

God answered my prayers to let me sleep late enough and throw my schedule around further, but it didn’t seem like he’d grant me this wish for a while.

Yesterday turned out to be a bit shitty. As far as we know, he came and went quietly. I saw him leave around noon. Then later, as we were talking in bed, this white car that visits on weekends with its music at a so-so volume came blaring in. We never heard this car leave, though, so that tells me once again that maybe she doesn’t like loud bass and that that’s his department and maybe she even left with these people.

Something did not want us to have fun, that’s for sure. This is the third weekend where it was rather painful when he entered me. Then came the sound effects - the bouncing ball. So we quit sex long before either of us could get off and I’m like - why? Why?! First it’s internal pain, now external. Meaning, with the waterbed, I had had a discomforting pressure feeling at times when we’d screw, but now it’s all irritation around the opening. Can God ever leave us alone sexually?! The part-time sex and his getting off very little is fine now, but must one of us deal with problems of pain/discomfort as well? Forget about the idea of me having sex with the same gender being a sin for me! It seems it’s a sin and I have to pay to have sex with anybody. So now I gotta deal with that too, and am putting hydrocortisone cream down there regularly. You tell me how one gets and stays irritated like that after they only screwed once a week for the last month or so. I know it’s just a reminder from God that he doesn’t agree with what I’m doing and as far as he’s concerned, my female parts are bad, dirty and abnormal, and he’s marking these things in ways to remind me of that and inflicting pain upon them.

No wonder it’s been peaceful as far as the cats go - White Feet apparently took off for a while. He’s the one that kicks the walls and jumps in the window for the most part. We think he’s a male and that Blackie’s a female. Blackie’s friendlier and less aggressive.

I just saw something really weird in the sky just as dawn was breaking. I guess it was a cloud, but the only difference was that this was the only cloud in the sky and it glowed and had pink, blue and other colors swirling through it. It was kind of pretty and definitely cool looking, so I shot a picture of it.

Anyway, it turns out that the basketball player was some little blond boy and he apparently wasn’t playing for long cuz he came in. At least we didn’t know he came in, though, till I looked out and saw him.

By then, at around 2 PM, I crashed and awoke at 10:40. About 6 hours earlier than I’d have liked to have gotten up seeing that my dentist appointment’s all the way at 4:15 on Tuesday. The toy shopping and library could be done early, though. So I upped and had a bagel and a Benadryl. At 11:15 I heard 15-20 car doors at least, but it wasn’t next door. After lying in bed and praying hard till just past midnight, I finally closed my eyes till just after 4:00. Thank God!

I’d still take those Mormons back, though, if I could. They were noisier in a sense, cuz their noise was more consistent with their dog/kids, but they didn’t make going to sleep stressful and they weren’t sick, selfish, psychotic fucks. So these new bassy stereos have upped my tolerance level for screaming kids. However, if one were in the house 24/7, then who knows? That’d probably be different and I’m sure I couldn’t handle it. Hell, I can’t even take care of my husband’s dick and he’s all grown up, so I don’t see how I could take care of a screaming, demanding, destructive child.

Tom now estimates our being out of here in 12-18 months. I hope he’s right and if he’s not, I hope he’s wrong in a way that his guess was late, but we’ll see.

I had some very weird dreams during my nap. You can’t hide very well in Massachusetts even at night in the woods when there’s snow on the ground. The woods are just tree trunks and twigs in the winter without the density of their leaves, and a white ground shows up better in the dark than a darker-colored ground. So, you can be seen many yards away as the snow glows and illuminates your form. In the dream, I was being chased by someone with a gun.

Then there was this professor. I was still single, still living in Massachusetts, and obviously taking college courses, too. I had apparently moved in with, or near Tammy, but Tammy didn’t live in Connecticut. I guess I had a thing for this professor, an older guy, and sensed he liked me too. It was later than usual, cuz he and I got to talking after class. He asked me where I was from. I told him I was from western Mass. now from eastern Mass. Guess Tammy lived near Boston. I then asked where he was from and he said France. I said I should’ve known this by his accent. He offered me a smoke. I said I quit. Then I asked him for a ride home since it was dark, snowy and cold out. I knew that I couldn’t count on the darkness to hide me cuz of the snow. Also cuz of oncoming car’s headlights. He said no to the ride request. Apparently, he was afraid I’d tell Tammy (I said I intended never to tell anyone, though) and use it to my advantage somehow. So then I expressed my fears about walking alone in the dark and how I’d be terrified every time a car passed (this walk was through the woods). He was telling me I’d be fine and how he liked that thing I brought in to show him, as a way of suggesting I take it with me. That “thing” was a stun gun, I think. So I frantically looked through a file cabinet to see where I’d put it, then threw on a ski vest, put my braid inside it, looked down at my black T-shirt, and commented on how I’d be freezing. Then we hugged and he told me he loved me and I told him I loved him, and that’s all I remember.

I’m printing out some journals for proofreading. I figured out a neat way to hide anything I don’t want Bob to read since I’ve decided to send him these sheets in a manila envelope at some point. I just count how many lines down the text is that I don’t want him to read (like jokes Kim and I would pull on him and how we’d share his letters with each other) and then I pull up a blank page on the computer, count out to those lines, then type x’s and print it out. So that way it’ll x-out what I don’t want him to read.

SUNDAY, MARCH 1, 1998 I slept just fine and got up at 10 PM, so there should be no problem with shopping and the library on Monday, and with my 4:00 teeth appointment on Tuesday.

Speaking of teeth, Tom wants me to have them give me laughing gas, even though he knows all I need is Novocain. I asked why the sudden change and desire for me to use the gas and said it was just cuz of how dental work makes him nervous. Then why didn’t he ask me to use the gas before? Anyway, I told him I’d tell the doctor to give it to me.

Typical Andy. I knew he wouldn’t get his money and drop off the journals last evening, but at least he didn’t keep me waiting 4 hours for a visit while I put off listening to music so I could hear the door, etc. He left a message saying he’d get it Wednesday afternoon whether or not I could be available. He also said he didn’t want to just leave me the two journals and that he wanted to add to my belated birthday present and buy other stuff.

I was almost right on when I said the freeloader would split again at 11:00. It happened at 11:20, actually, but I’d never have known it if I didn’t happen to be looking out the window to see if I could see who was mowing at the time, cuz that’s how much quieter even the door slamming has been. I’m thoroughly amazed that there’s been no music, but in time there will be. Old times have a way of returning with this fuck that’s as guaranteed as my shortness.

Now I just have to hope to hell that tomorrow’s as quiet. You never know around here.

Now for some good news before I get to more bad news. I’m just beginning to teeter just under the 125-pound marker, so it looks like the Slim-Fast diet plan and God are working just fine so far. As they say, though, I shouldn’t exceed losing more than two pounds a week. That can be bad for you and you’ll be more likely to put the weight back on too, after you lose it. So, if this keeps on working, we’re looking at my not hitting 100 pounds till June. I hope I don’t reach a plateau when I’m around 110-115 where I just can’t seem to budge my weight any further down, cuz that could happen and it’s not uncommon.

OK, the bad news now, and yes, I do blame God or at least something up there. This is a classic example, too, of what I mean by how fucking with fate can make things worse.

As I said before, Tom took Ma’s car to have its oil leak fixed. I thought to myself, Great. This way we can have more time together and get other things done, but nope, God’s just determined as all hell not to let him out of having to fix the car himself, cuz they did fix the oil leak, but in doing so, they fouled up 3 other things that Tom’s now got to fix. If Tom didn’t bring them the car to fix in the first place, he’d have just one thing to fix and not 3. See? It’s as if God’s saying, “You didn’t fix this yourself like I wanted you to, so now I’ll make matters even worse for you.” Anything to keep us away from each other a lot. It’s probably gonna be two weeks now before we can have some fun, cuz tomorrow will probably out. Next weekend will be spent moving Mom and with God acting like I’m fertile and that this isn’t the right time to have a kid (there’s never a right time for that what with how life’s one thing after another)! But that’s totally stupid. God can do anything. So why doesn’t he make sure he doesn’t cum if we screw at prime time, or ensure that no sperms meet the egg if it’s that important for him to control things?

Later…

I am without anything to read till Monday. Therefore, I’m trying to push myself to do my proofreading, but it ain’t easy.

The mice are starting to stink again, so I’ll clean their cages out when I get them their new toys, but at least it took a few days and not two minutes for them to start stinking up a storm again. I hope the store has all I want to get for them. Sometimes they’re not stocked up very well.

Another thing about my weight - well, it has to do with the subject of fate/vibes again. It’s just that I didn’t want to get my hopes up, so I didn’t want to mention it or put any real stock into it. Usually, when I can’t picture or feel something happening, like with a child, it doesn’t happen. When I was around 118 pounds, I knew I’d be in the 120s. I just felt it and could see it happening and it did. However, I couldn’t really feel/see the 130s and fortunately, I still can’t, but this may not necessarily mean I’ll lose the weight. Right now it “seems” that I will, but things aren’t always what they seem, either.

I trimmed my bangs earlier with the attachment that you hook to the vacuum. It sucks your hair up through the hose, then cuts it after you’ve set it at the amount you want to cut.

I don’t hear the cats as much tonight, which is nice. Maybe they figured they’d quit while they were ahead so they wouldn’t get starved again, which would be smart of them. I don’t know what it is they do to create the racket that they do against the wall, but I’d guess they kick at it. If they start up, though, no matter how much it pisses me off and distracts me, I’ll just take it and not give them the reaction they want. They want to get chased and they like to get chased. They don’t even mind it when I manage to be quick enough to take a little swat at them, either. I asked Tom if he still doesn’t want to get traps and he said he didn’t want the hassles or to take them where they’ll be killed. Well, what about the hassles for me? And I’m sorry if they get killed, but I shouldn’t have to deal with some pain in the ass stray cats, either. And the HS, if they can’t find someone to adopt them out, doesn’t beat them to death. They put them to sleep and they don’t feel a thing. Starving them won’t get rid of them. It only pisses them off into chasing Bunny when I go out to feed him. They won’t let him eat if I don’t feed them.

What? Does he really think we will have a kid and does he really want that and is therefore trying to get me used to distractions? Hell, I get it all the time from the other animals, so what’s the point? He’s always seemed to enjoy or not mind when I get distractions. It’s like he’s trying to make me get used to it and deal with it. I don’t like it when I feel he’s trying to force ways on me, be it instilling patience in me, controlling the sex and anything related to that, etc.

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sarah-dipitous · 2 years ago

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Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 136

Meet the New Boss

“Meet the New Boss”

Plot Description: Assuming his new role as god, Castiel sets out to right some of the wrongs in the world. Dean decides to bind Death in order to stop him

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: No one died. Sure

My baby’s all grown up and playing god now

Oh we are picking up RIGHT where season six left off. It is…when I say uncomfortable to watch, I don’t mean in the regular way like gory when I’m trying to eat lunch. Godstiel is something else. I really thought for a second that he was backtracking on making the boys and Bobby bow to him when they actually started doing it. No. He could just see they didn’t really mean it. That it was out of fear, not love and respect. BABES. Come on

This must have been so fun to play. FUCK. After playing Cas as so in love with humanity (Dean) and so sympathetic to their plight and a bit of an underdog, to just turn and be cold and ruthless and SO. POWERFUL.

I recant my statement about no one dying. No HUMANS died, so maybe I’m still okay. But a fuckton of angels did

That’s so uncharacteristically healthy of you, Dean. I know you’re gonna kinda fuck it up probably later just based on the summary, but for now just fixing up Baby and then helping to fix up Sam when he wakes up is good.

Huh…what’s going on with Sam NOW??

YES, Godstiel!! I know this is Cas’s literally villain era but telling bigoted pastors that god is “utterly indifferent to sexual orientation” should never be counted among his crimes this season.

Oop. It’s already going wrong for him…

OMG this woman the news is interviewing about the 200 religious leaders Castiel’s killed today. “He had no beard, no robe. He was young…and sexy” STOPPP 💀

Love that Dean can’t argue with some of the things he’s doing though. But I mean, if your actions forced the klan to completely disband, I’d be handing you the Nobel peace prize

Oof, Dean is not taking this break up well. Or too well? He’s in a very cut all contact, don’t even think about contacting him mood. Dean doesn’t have a choice but to hear about Cas’s countrywide rampage, but there’s nothing he can really do about it…yet

Okay, it’s not all death and destruction. He has healed everyone with leprosy

Oh, Crowley…this is so unlike you. An RV? And Cas got to you anyway

Jeeeeeeeeesus, Cas. You are making it really hard to love you right now. You still need hell to serve as a threat to your enemies??

I had been wondering what had happened to the Cage since Crowley’s remodeling. It’s still there SOMEWHERE. But we’re just gonna gloss over that

Poor Sam. Like…I know Dean had this deep, dark emptiness when he came back from hell, but he didn’t get these visceral flashbacks that seep into his every day.

Dean in his little mechanic’s jumpsuit is working for me. Anyway, Sam overheard Dean and Bobby talking about how Dean just wants this to be the one time they’ve caught a break (re: Sam SEEMING mostly okay), and I’m so afraid he’s gonna try to cover it up to not be a burden

The SASS between Bobby and Crowley!!!

I KNOW it’s just because the stomach is the squishiest part of the torso overall…like, in terms of showing that something is trying to get out of the human form, but why was my first thought to seeing the purgatory souls trying to get out of Cas “oh, this was not tagged mpreg”

I know we’re in desperate times but did you have to tie up the owners of the house you just broke into to get to this crystal thingy??

Dean tried to bribe Death with fried pickle chips…Death, you are missing out. I’d take that bribe in a HEARTBEAT. (Especially since sheetz switched from chips to pickle fries……..)

THESE POOR HOMEOWNERS. Just sitting tied up in their living room while three men wearing flannel, a mutated angel, and the physical embodiment of death have a standoff. No one is ever going to believe them if they live through this

I know it’s ridiculously self-destructive but I do love when we get Leviathan Cas

OOOOOOOOOO THAT IS JUICY. Dean commanding Death to kill Cas and, before that can happen, Cas breaks Death’s binding.

Castiel, what did you doooo? You killed everyone on that senator’s election staff

Oh Sam…I’m glad you have your soul back and that you know all this stuff now, but…fuck. It’s so hard to watch you put yourself on the back burner so as not to burden Dean while you two figure this Cas stuff out

Sam reaching out to Cas is really wholesome

Oh no. Please don’t believe this, Sam. He (Lucifer) IS just a hallucination…………..right? Still. It’s a very good torture

Uuuuuggggggghhhhhhh the break in Dean’s voice when Cas wakes up from putting the souls back in purgatory.

Do I like how much I love Leviathan Cas?? We’re just not going to answer that question…

#hellsite nostalgia tour 2023

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mjolnir-steve · 3 years ago

Text

Foolish

Frank Adler x fem!Reader

Word count: 5027 (oop)

Warnings: light drinking, very brief mention of suicide, some cursing, smut (18+ ONLY!!!), unprotected sex (m/f) ... Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hi, y’all! Here’s my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817’s Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge!!!! I haven’t written smut in a LONG time, so please be gentle with me LOL. Here’s what I got:

Frank Adler

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Breeding / mutual pining 🥴

I’d like to dedicate this to @rodrikstark for always sharing the Frank Adler feels and @sparkledfirecracker for bullying me (with love) into finishing this. ❤️

If you like this fic, please comment and reblog!!! I hope you enjoy. :)

Fridays never seemed to come soon enough. You looked forward to the beginning of the weekend as much as the next person, but over the last few months, Friday nights took on new meaning for you. You moved to the trailer park a little less than a year ago, wanting to buy a small place of your own and start making a home for yourself. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t expensive, and it was only a ten-minute drive from your office where you’d just secured a promotion. Roberta, the manager, helped you make it feel like home right away, insisting on going with you to pick out paint samples and providing copies of menus for the best take-out in the area.

Before long, Roberta introduced you to the trailer park’s resident certified genius, Mary Adler. Mary and Roberta spent Saturday mornings with you when you were free, which unfortunately, was pretty much all the time. You played games, sang karaoke, and even let Mary’s one-eyed cat Fred come over. He took a liking to your swinging chair in the living room, and if Mary couldn’t find him at home, odds were he somehow squeezed through your window and ended up in that chair.

Another two months had passed, though, before you met Mary’s uncle and guardian, Frank. You came to learn that Mary stayed with Roberta every Friday night because “Frank needs time to be an adult” and she was not allowed to come back to the house until noon on Saturdays. This information made you feel like Frank must be some kind of sad, perpetual fuckboy. You were right about the sad part, not so much about the latter. One morning while Mary played with your watercolors, Roberta let slip - ironically over a cup of tea - that Frank did have the occasional hookup, but usually, he drank himself sleepy on Friday nights and just needed the time to himself. He worked himself to the bone as a boat mechanic, often late into the night because it was too hot to do some jobs during the day. Frank took Mary in when she was just a baby after his sister, her mother, tragically committed suicide. He spent the majority of his scarce free time with Mary, so when Mary was still a toddler, Roberta offered the Friday night deal. Frank countered that he would do any repairs in the trailer park for free, but she refused to let him do that work without pay, saying he deserved to have a life, too.

She also informed you that Frank was a former philosophy professor, single, and very attractive, especially if you were into the rugged thing. You rolled your eyes with an amused exhale and took another sip of your tea. You’d be lying if you said your interest wasn’t piqued. Mary then shouted over her shoulder, confirming that she’d been listening to your entire conversation, “Frank is great, but he’s a grump. Good luck cracking that egg.” You snorted, nearly spitting out your tea, and she went back to reading your color theory book to Fred.

With that, you heard a sharp rap at the door. You set your tea down on the kitchen table, curious who your visitor might be. You didn’t know anyone else in the trailer park, or in town, really. You opened the door, taking in the sight of possibly - no, definitely - the most handsome man you’d ever seen. You quickly guessed it was Frank, judging by the grease smeared on his quite large hands. His eyes, though tired, had the same bright look as Mary’s, and he had the most perfectly imperfect fluffy hair and overgrown stubble.

“Good morning,” he said with a sweet, closed-mouthed smile. “Is Mary here?”

You had to remind yourself to breathe. Stammering, you opened the door wider, gesturing inside. “Hi, y-yes. She is!” Why am I like this? “She’s just painting with Fred. Please, come in.” You moved aside so he could fit his broad shoulders through the doorframe and then held out your hand. “You must be Frank. I’m Y/N. Mary is just wonderful.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He took your hand in both of his, gentler than you’d expected. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m Frank. It’s great to meet you, finally.” He smiled wide for the first time and you were certain you’d pass out. Who LOOKS like this? “And thank you, she really is wonderful. I couldn’t do it without Roberta. She’s family.” He smiled and waved at Roberta, who was looking at you over the lip of her mug.

Mary didn’t even bother to turn around and face Frank. “What are you doing here, Frank? It’s only 11. I have a whole ‘nother hour with my friends.” You tried to keep your laugh quiet, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head.

“Well, excuse me for thinking you might like to go out on the boat with me this morning. I guess I’ll go by myself.”

Mary jumped up from the floor, scrambling to clean up your paints and books. “Can Y/N and Roberta come?”

Frank crouched down to meet Mary’s eyes. “Of course they can, if they’d like.” He looked back at you over his shoulder, trying to gauge your interest, then turning back to his niece. “But do you remember what I told you?”

You could see that Mary was making a conscious effort not to roll her eyes. “You told me that my adult friends have adult lives that include adult responsibilities, and they might not always be available to spend time with me.”

“And?” he looked at her expectantly.

“And I need to invite them to do things without assuming they will do them.” She couldn’t hold back her eye roll any longer, but she made sure not to let Frank see. “Roberta, Y/N, would you both like to join us on the boat today?”

You were amazed by the exchange taking place in front of you, able to see where some of Mary’s brains and tenacity came from. The conversation between the two flowed so easily, playful yet intelligent. It was clear that Frank treated Mary not as a child, but as a person, and you chided yourself internally for thinking that was kinda hot.

Shaking yourself out of your mildly inappropriate thoughts, you responded. “I’d love to come, Mary.” You smiled at her, bending over to help her pick up the last of the paints from the floor. “Roberta?”

Roberta gave you a look and you just knew she planned this somehow. “I actually do have some of those adult responsibilities to handle today, but thank you for inviting me.” You sent a glare in her direction, quick but no less scathing. “Maybe next time.” She winked at you before washing out her mug and saying her goodbyes.

You spent the whole rest of the day and night with Frank and Mary, doing everything from building sandcastles to cooking dinner together. Mary eventually fell asleep in your lap as you were watching Oliver & Company, Frank’s favorite Disney film that had become Mary’s, too. “An underrated classic,” they told you in unison.

You helped Frank put Mary to bed, a task made easier after such a tiring day. “I guess I should get going.” You stood awkwardly in the small kitchen, unsure of yourself and painfully aware of how close your hand was to Frank’s resting on the counter.

“Yeah, I have a job early in the morning.” He looked down at his shoes, unable to look you in the eye, and you wondered if he hadn’t found your company as enjoyable as you’d found his.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’ve been to Ferg’s? The little bar down the road? I go every Friday night just to relax and have a few beers. Maybe you’d like to come with me next weekend?”

Is he asking me on a date? You could feel your heartbeat racing. The look on your face must not have matched the excitement you felt at the prospect of spending time alone with the dreamy, kind, sarcastic man in front of you.

He felt like an idiot when you hesitated to answer. He clearly read everything wrong. He had to fix this. “It’s a good place to meet people, you know? I know you’re fairly new to the area, so if you’re looking for more local friends, it’s a good place to start.” He winced, hoping you couldn’t sense his embarrassment at thinking that you would want to go on a date with him.

You swallowed, trying not to let your disappointment show outwardly. Of course he’s not interested in me. Stupid. “Oh, yeah! That would be great, Frank. What time?”

Frank let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, relieved that you didn’t seem offended by his offer. “How’s 7? I’ll pick you up? We can walk over together.”

And that’s how Fridays came to mean so much to you. Almost every Friday for the last six months, Frank met you at your door and you walked to Ferg’s together. Frank told you it would be a good place to make new friends, but you paid no mind to the other patrons. You only had eyes for each other, yet neither of you could see it, even though Roberta pointed out (repeatedly) that neither of you had taken anyone else home in all that time.

The more time you spent with Frank, the more certain you were that God was real and your life was His favorite trainwreck reality TV series. Even if you could have customized a dream man Build-A-Bear style, Frank still would blow your creation out of the water. He was smart and funny, not to mention an adoring parent to Mary, to whom you grew more attached each day. He was kind and thoughtful, talented and hard-working. Although he was a grouch, as Mary would say, he always was sweet to you. He took a genuine interest in anything you had to say, whether you were venting about work or filling him on the latest episode of whatever show you were binging. He was ridiculously sexy without even trying. All those hours he spent doing manual labor in the sun did wonders for his physique. You’d only seen him completely shirtless on one occasion, and the image of him with sweat dripping down his chest was burned into your memory, fueling your late-night thots and causing you to break out your vibrator on what was now a regular basis.

Six months had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and you’d begun to accept that Frank didn’t want to be anything more than friends with you. You decided tonight was as good a night as any to talk to someone new, to start letting go of your unrequited feelings.

You swapped out your usual jeans for a sundress, t-shirt bra for a push-up, and lip balm for lipstick. Putting your phone and some cash in a wristlet, you considered wearing your new strappy sandals. The walk to Ferg’s was about five minutes each way down a sandy road, though, and memories of the sticky floor inside aided your preferred pair of Converse in their victory for the night.

Just as you finished tying your shoes, you heard a knock at the door. You adjusted your cleavage and fluffed your hair a final time with one last look in the mirror. Here goes.

Frank felt like he had the wind knocked out of him in the best possible way. He suddenly felt entirely underdressed in his aloha shirt, even though it was his go-to for nights out of the house. He’d never seen you dressed so nicely when you weren’t going to work.

You were the kind of beautiful that didn’t require makeup. Your natural hair always framed your face perfectly, even if you didn’t think so. He thought you were adorable when you were concentrating on something, blowing your hair out of your face with a huff. Visions of your soft curves made their way into Frank’s dreams on more than one occasion. He had seen you in your swimsuit several times, sunbathing with Roberta and swimming with Mary at the beach. It wasn’t even all that revealing, but it accentuated your figure in ways that forced Frank into needing a cold shower or two. Above all, though, he admired your heart. You’d allowed Mary into your life without hesitation, spending time with her because you wanted to and allowing her to ask all those questions that Frank just wouldn’t be able to answer. It killed him that you didn’t see him the way he saw you, a perfect partner for him and a worthy maternal figure for Mary.

“Frank? You okay?” Your concerned voice shook him out of his thoughts, prompting him to close his mouth which apparently had opened wide in astonishment when you stood in the doorway.

“Yeah, um... You look…” He looked a little confused, his brow furrowed and lips pursed. “Why are you all dolled up? It’s only Ferg’s.” He wished he could’ve kicked himself in the teeth when your face fell at his question. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. Let me try that again,” he nearly begged, running up to you to stop you from going back inside. “You look really nice, honey.” He ran his calloused hand up your forearm, but quickly returned it to his side when he realized what he’d done. “Is it a special occasion, though? Should I change?”

You gave him a watery smile, given that you were three seconds from slamming the door in his face and crying. “That’s better. Thank you.” You lightly pushed at his shoulder, trying and failing to ignore the electricity you felt at the contact. “No occasion, though. Just thought maybe it was about time I actually introduced myself to someone new.”

You couldn’t quite read his reaction. Little did you know he was certain he just felt his heart physically crack in his chest. “What do you mean?”

The two of you started walking, the tension between you thickening the very air you breathed. “Well, when you first invited me to Ferg’s, you said maybe I’d get to know some other people in the area, right? But we’re always with each other. I’m sure you’re itching to talk to someone other than me. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Frank abruptly reverted to the quiet, distant state he usually occupied before he met you. He sped up a bit, walking ahead of you and desperately attempting to school his features before you caught up with him.

Frank practically ran to the restroom, not slowing down even to hold the door open for you. You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, relaxing before entering the bar. Normally, whoever made it first would order drinks for you both, but Frank made it painfully clear that he had no desire to be in your company tonight. You ordered your usual, an Angry Orchard with a shot of Fireball in a tall glass. The combination tasted like apple cider, but the burn in your throat was caused by liquor rather than heat. It was strong enough to get you buzzed, but not so strong that you’d be stumbling home. You swallowed half the glass in one gulp, wanting to feel the warmth in your veins boosting your confidence as quickly as possible.

“Y/N? How are you?” You turned around, eyes meeting those of Jamie, your coworker. He leaned in for a hug and you accepted somewhat reluctantly, having interacted with him only in passing.

“Hey! I’m all right. What’s up?” You smiled at him, taking another sip of your drink. Jamie was not very subtly staring at your chest. You weren’t crazy about him, but the attention felt nice, so you allowed it.

“Not much. Just happy it’s Friday, ya know?” He looked around for a moment before returning his attention to you. “You’re usually here with that mechanic dude, right?”

You stifled a laugh thinking about how Frank would react if he heard himself referred to as “dude” by this prick. “Yeah, he’s around somewhere. We’re just-“

“-Just friends?” he finished for you with a hopeful look.

You nodded in response, looking him up and down. He was no Frank, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome. It had been so long since you’d even been kissed, and though you hated to admit it, you were touch-starved. One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

Meanwhile, Frank was splashing his face with cool water. He couldn’t believe he’d fucked up so royally. He was sure you didn’t want him how he wanted you, and now he was sure it was too late to tell you how he really felt.

He knew from the moment he saw you that he’d never get you out of his head. Roberta had been talking you up to Frank for weeks, but he wanted no part of it, mumbling something about there being “a reason why no one used matchmakers anymore.” He had no choice but to make your acquaintance when he was looking for Mary, and he’d never been so happy that Roberta could say she told him so.

Later that day at the beach, Mary approached him while you were dozing on a towel in the sand. She sat on his lap and reached for his face, using her pointer fingers to turn the straight line of his mouth up into a smile. “Roberta says you have a ‘charming’ smile, Frank. We think you should use it more.” He chuckled quietly, careful not to disturb you, and pulled Mary in close, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. She grimaced at the feeling, dramatically wiping at her face until he let her go back to reading with Fred.

The sound of the jukebox starting up cut short his reverie. He had to get out there and explain himself. Frank dried his face and hands with a paper towel before smacking his cheeks and stretching his neck back and forth to each shoulder.

Frank exited the restroom only to find some douchebag staring at your ass as you leaned over toward the bar. He saw red when the piece of shit held out his hand behind his back while his friend slipped a twenty-dollar bill into it, seemingly winning some sort of bet.

Jamie didn’t stand a chance when Frank stormed in between the two of you. “That’s IT,” he yelled, so intense he borderline bellowed. He threw whatever cash he had in his pocket on the bar to pay for your drinks before he pulled you outside, almost getting to your door while you fought against his grip. He only stopped when you spun your body around like something out of Dancing with the Stars and jumped in front of him, forcing him to catch you.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, what are y-”

“-What are YOU doing, Frank? What the fuck was that?” You put your feet back down on the ground but remained facing him, arms crossed over your chest.

He groaned in frustration, suddenly realizing he actually had no clue how to respond. “Fuck.”

You looked at him, tapping your foot in anticipation.

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” He rubbed at his temples in the way he did when he felt a headache coming on.

“And how was he looking at me, Frank? What does it matter to you?”

“He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat and I… FUCK!”

You both turned when your neighbor opened his window. “Can you kids keep it down out here?”

You waved bashfully at the old man. “Sorry, Mr. Parker,” you said in unison.

“Come inside, Frankie.” The nickname that typically made him roll his eyes at you never had sounded sweeter, now that its use confirmed you didn’t hate him for the scene he made. You both toed off your shoes at the door before you made your way into the living room, motioning for him to sit next to you on the couch when he tried to sit in the armchair across the room.

You leaned forward, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “Now what’s going on in that sun-damaged brain of yours?”

He let out a laugh so soft you almost missed it, but you were glad you didn’t. Sitting back against the arm of the couch, you pulled a pillow into your lap and hugged it, giving Frank your full attention.

Frank cleared his throat, doing his best to accept that it was now or never. “That guy was leering at you, and it pissed me off. You deserve better, Y/N.” He pried your fingers from where they were locked around the pillow to hold your hands in his.

“If you want to meet new people, that’s great. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s a little less great, but I’d understand. He didn’t even pay for your drinks. And I th-”

You covered his mouth with one of your hands, and he knitted his brows in confusion. “You’re making it sound like it’s an option to be with you.” You were in disbelief, side-eyeing him, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to announce that you were, in fact, being Punk’d.

The corners of his mouth lifted into the soft smile he reserved for you. It was the same one he gave you whether you were on a tangent about how “Obsessed” by Mariah Carey is “the single greatest diss track of all time” or you were helping Mary put a harness and leash on Fred “just to see how he’d do” on a walk.

“For a distinguished professor, you’re kind of a dummy, Frank.” You took his face in your hands, thrilled to be feeling his stubble against your palms. Before he could talk back to you, you kissed him, unsure how you denied yourselves such a simple yet extraordinary pleasure for so long. It only took a moment for him to relax into it, his hands removing the pillow between you before finding your waist and pulling you almost into his lap.

You deepened the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. He pulled away first, pressing his forehead to yours. “Seems like we’re both dummies, huh?”

You were going to ask why pulled away until you looked down to see a considerable tent forming in the front of his jeans. You laughed as he pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around you while the other hand held your face against his neck.

You kissed the side of his neck softly before leaning back to look at him. “All this time? I thought you didn’t see me this way.” You held his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “You asked me to go to Ferg’s and then said I could meet other people, so I thought that was it, you know?”

He covered your hands with his and pecked your lips softly. “Honey, I thought it was the other way around. I was trying to ask you out and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” You giggled, spluttering a bit because tears had started falling at some point. He wiped your tears away before swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down a bit. “We’re fools, aren’t we?”

You nodded slowly and Frank saw something wicked flash in your eyes before you took his thumb in your mouth, sucking lightly. “Jesus, honey.” His length hardened underneath you and you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your panties, prompting you to grind down into his lap.

You released his thumb from your mouth, pressing your chest into his before kissing him again. “I think we’re only fools if we don’t take advantage of the rest of your adult time.” You removed your dress easily, returning your hands to Frank’s shoulders to push off his shirt.

He surged forward to kiss you again, working magic with his tongue against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he picked you up, walking you into the bedroom. Placing you on the bed carefully, he removed your bra and panties before pulling off his boxers and jeans in one go. You thought you wanted him before, but now that you could see everything he’d been hiding under his baggy clothes, you didn’t see how you could ever let him leave your bedroom.

The next few minutes were spent exploring each other’s mouths while Frank stretched you with his fingers. You didn’t think you’d ever been so wet in your life and thought you might pass out if you didn’t feel him inside you immediately. You gave his cock a few strokes before sliding his head through your folds, coating him in your slick.

“Waitwaitwait, honey. Do you have a condom?”

“You don’t need one if you don’t want one. It’s okay.”

He looked like you just gave him tomorrow’s winning lotto numbers, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he looked at you again. “Oh, God. Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I wanna feel you. Make me yours?”

“Anything you want, honey, but if you change your mind, just tell me, okay?” He lined himself up, seconds shy of entering you for the first time.

“I figured if you were gonna be possessive of me tonight, you might as well take it the whole nine, Frankie.” You laughed as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, though, I’m clean, I’m on the pill, and I’ve wanted you for a long time.” You reached up to scratch lightly through his chest hair.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now is you moaning for me.” He drove into you harshly, but waited a moment for you to adjust once he was seated to the hilt. “So damn wet and tight for me, honey. You’re so perfect, so beautiful.” He kissed you again before he began to move, slowly but surely making you lose your mind.

He dipped his head down to take one nipple in his mouth, then the other, effectively shutting you up and emptying all thoughts from your head. He nipped at the swell of your breast, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Fuck, Frank, please!”

“Please what, honey?” He picked up his pace, fucking into you so vigorously you moved up the bed. “Tell me what you need.”

“Make me cum, Frank. Please, baby, I need it. Need you,” you cried, leaning up to bite into his shoulder, stifling your moans.

“I wanna hear you, Y/N. I wanna hear those pretty moans while I’m making this perfect pussy cum for me.” The combination of his filthy words and the sight of him sucking on his own fingers before rubbing at your clit sent you over the edge, making you scream his name over and over again for what felt like forever and not long enough.

You could tell he was close, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm. He began to pull out, unsure if you were willing to let him finish inside you, but knowing he was too close to wait for an answer.

You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him close, pushing him back into you. “Fill me up, Frank. I wanna feel all of you. Please give it to me,” you whimpered. His release triggered another for you, chanting each other’s names surely loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

He stayed inside you as you both came down from your shared high, gingerly flipping you over so he laid on his back with you on his chest. He kissed the top of your head, fingers fluttering up and down your sides.

“What’s on your mind now, Frankie?” You looked up at him through your lashes, mildly terrified of the answer.

He looked down at you with the most adoration you’d ever seen, lifting your chin so your eyes met his in the moonlight. “That wasn’t too soon, was it? You mean so much to me and to Mary. I don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t ever wanna hurt you. You’re the best thing in my life besides Mary, you know that?”

You kissed his chest before looking back up at him, smiling. “First of all, I would argue that wasn’t soon enough.” He hissed as you clenched around his still softening cock inside you.

“You’re evil.”

Winking at him, you continued tracing patterns on his chest with your fingers. “Second, that all kinda sounds like you might be in love with me, Frank Adler.”

His hands stopped moving for a second before he responded. “Would you run away if I said I am?”

“Well, I wouldn’t run away. This is my house.” You thought your heart might explode in your chest.

“I didn’t even say it, but I take it back,” he huffed, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“What if I told you I felt the same way?”

He grinned, sitting up to kiss you feverishly on your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You could feel him starting to harden again inside you, leading to round two of… well, you lost count.

You ate breakfast and showered together in time for Frank to return home before Mary did, agreeing to talk more later and to hold out on Roberta for a while.

Frank stood on your doorstep, leaning in to kiss you once more. All of a sudden, you heard a familiar meow and thanked God you were dressed and not in your robe.

“Frank, what are you doing here? I thought I’d come see Y/N since I’m not supposed to come home until noon.”

You bit your tongue to keep from cackling. Frank ran a hand over his face, his blissful bubble burst. He was getting you a hotel room next weekend.

#shamelesshoesforchris2021 #maggie's writing #frank adler #frank adler x fem!reader #frank adler fluff #frank adler smut

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samstree · 3 years ago

Text

A Study in Blushing

In which Jaskier makes a surprising discovery and decides to test it out.

(tooth rotting fluff, blushing geralt, soft jaskier, love confessions, kissing, winter at kaer morhen, rated teen, 3000 words)

Also, I know witchers can't blush in canon but seriously we should all know better.

read on AO3

“Gods damn it, bard! I know Geralt tolerates all your shit because he’s in love with you, but you gotta put things back where they belong!”

Lambert grumbles something more all the while putting the training swords back on the shelf, and Jaskier’s mind stops.

The world zeroes in on the words he’s in love with you and suddenly Jaskier can’t form words.

“W...What did you—”

“I said—” Lambert throws down the last one with a clunk. “—the swords go back on the shelf!”

“Geralt...is in love with me?” Jaskier breathes, unbelieving.

Lambert pauses, “Don’t you know?”

“No...?”

“Fuck. Pretty boy can’t get his head out of his ass and now I have to suffer.”

With that, Lambert tries to shoulder past Jaskier but the bard is having none of it. “No!” he puts a hand on Lambert’s chest. “Don’t even think about it. How? Since when? And how do you know?”

Lambert mumbles something unintelligible, before sighing long-sufferingly. “It’s too obvious, Buttercup.”

“How is it obvious? Does Geralt walk around with the words ‘I’m smitten with my bard and all the grumpy face is faked’ written on his forehead? How, pray tell, is it obvious?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Lambert, the bastard, raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Did you truly not know?”

“No!”

Jaskier is so close to grabbing Lambert by the collar just to shake some answers out of him, and finally, the youngest wolf takes pity on him.

“He looks at you differently when he thinks you are doing something cute. He trips over his words after you call him sweet names. The worst of it all—he blushes any time you are close. Blushes, like a fucking maiden. Urgh, I’m gonna throw up.”

“Oh,” Jaskier deflates, “Witchers blush?”

“See for yourself.” Lambert rolls his eyes, walking past Jaskier with a few long strides. “And put the swords back!”

Jaskier decides to test it out, because there’s no way Geralt is in love with him.

Loving him as a friend, sure, why not? Despite what ignorant folks claim about witchers, Jaskier knows by experience that Geralt has a heart bigger and more capable of love than most. But Geralt being in love with Jaskier? Like, he-wants-to-kiss-him in love with him? No way.

Blushing because of him? Ha! More like in Jaskier’s wildest dreams.

Although that would be really cute.

“Pass me the salt, honey?” Jaskier reaches out a hand to the other end of the table, and Geralt passes the salt without thinking.

Hmm.

No tripping over words.

“Thank you, dear heart.”

He’s putting as much sweetness in his voice as possible and Geralt is…normal. His eyebrows are raised to the roof, and there’s a faint smile by the corners of his eyes. But that’s just how Geralt is…right? He’s home and he’s relaxed, he smiles with his eyes rather than his lips, and it’s got nothing to do with Jaskier.

Jaskier chews, staring at Geralt subtly.

Not subtle enough.

“Something on my face?”

“No—” Jaskier chokes, hacking like a fool and tipping sideways. “Just—too much salt.”

Geralt scoffs, the faint smile turning into a brief grin, and hands over a cup of water.

Jaskier wants the ground to swallow him whole.

The snow is terrible.

The whole keep is freezing like an ice cube, and Jaskier has to blow on his hands from time to time just to function in the library. He’s the lucky one, in the grand scheme of things. The witchers still need to go outside to fix up the walls and tend to the animals.

Geralt hasn’t been back in a while.

Jaskier puts down the quill he’s been chewing anxiously and rushes out the door—

And bumps right into Geralt’s chest.

“Sweet Melitele, that’s a lot of snow!” Jaskier spits out the snow knocked into his mouth, before looking at Geralt properly. “Oh, you’re hurt.”

The cut on Geralt’s eyebrow is a small one, but Jaskier worries nonetheless. Geralt doesn’t look impressed, only walks straight towards the small medkit sitting on a shelf.

“Repairment has to wait. The wind is bad.” Geralt grunts, trying to touch the wound and missing by a mile.

“Here, let me.”

Jaskier takes the salve from Geralt’s slightly shaking hands and pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket. Geralt is frowning so hard he can crack a walnut with those eyebrows.

“Relax,” Jaskier murmurs, blowing gently at the cut while dabbing at the blood. Upon deeming it clean enough, he applies a scoop of the salve that smells of celandine and mint. “Don’t move. It’ll only hurt a bit.”

Geralt keeps shying away from Jaskier’s ministration so he has no choice but to wrap his other hand around Geralt’s jaw, which manages to still him instantly.

“There,” Jaskier smiles. “Shouldn’t need anything more. Your witcher healing will kick in soon.”

Geralt tilts his head with that soft look in his eyes. “My thanks. Wouldn’t have survived without you.”

“No shit! Who goes out in a storm like this one? If you ask me, Vesemir is too tough on you. Look at you…” Jaskier coos, taking Geralt’s hands. “You are like a popsicle, dear heart.”

He tries to rub some heat back into Geralt’s freezing hands, his skin dry and rough. There’s still some hand cream left in Jaskier’s room. Maybe he can fetch it later. Geralt needs to take care of his hands better when his living depends on them.

Geralt groans, looking away. The frames of his ears are beet red too; he must have been outside without a hat for all this time. Jaskier wants to cover them with his warm palms, only to have his hands batted away.

“No, there’s—I’m fine,” Geralt mumbles. If Jaskier didn’t know better, he’d think the way Geralt avoids his eyes is a result of shyness. The bard can snort at the ridiculous idea and stubbornly presses his hands over Geralt’s ears.

Oh.

His ears are red because they are so warm, not cold

Now that they are standing so close, only a hand’s breadth away, Geralt looks stunned, his eyes dilating, only leaving a ring of gold around those dark pupils. There’s even a layer of pink dusting over his pale cheeks.

A blushing witcher.

Oh, this is interesting.

“Geralt, sweetie?” Jaskier husks, lowering his voice especially on the pet name. “Are you warm enough?”

“Um, sure…not cold.”

And he watches as Geralt’s mind ceases to work in front of his eyes, the blush deepening. It’s still a subtle thing. No wonder Jaskier has missed it all this time. Calloused hands wrap around Jaskier’s wrists, and the bard finally relents, letting go.

If he spends the rest of the day sitting at the desk with a quill in hand, thinking about the way Geralt’s skin feels against his and the warmth of his cheeks, nobody needs to know.

Jaskier doesn’t know what to do with this piece of new information.

Geralt does blush.

Because of him.

He tries to repeat the experiment. Just to be sure, he tells himself. And every time it yields the same results. As soon as he gets into Geralt’s space, the witcher either stumbles through his words or gets all flustered all over. The fondness is there too, just in a very Geralt and very unnoticeable manner, soft and almost smiling.

Jaskier is so drunk on power.

The only thing left is to tell Geralt that he loves him too. That he’s also in love in love with him, as in an I-also-want-to-kiss-you kind of way, and then… they can finally kiss!

Oh, just inwardly rehearsing the scene makes Jaskier dizzy, and somehow he ends up smiling to himself when he’s so deep in thoughts planning the conversation, once even in front of company.

Lambert throws him a side-eye and a disgusted grunt, but Jaskier can’t care less.

He finds the perfect night, and even takes a sip of White Gull from Eskel’s cup just to calm his nerves.

And he realizes too late that, perhaps, the strongest witcher brew might be a mistake.

The effect is stronger than he anticipated, and Jaskier is giggling through the fog in his mind within mimutes, somehow ending up on Geralt’s lap, draped over his shoulder in a heap of soft, pliant mess.

He rests his temple against Geralt’s and nearly tips backward if not for the strong arm that catches him by the waist.

“Oops, thank the gods I have my big witcher here!” Jaskier runs the tips of his fingers across Geralt’s stubbles. It tickles, and the blush is back, unmistakably, since Geralt is as sober as the day. “I’d fall over on my butt without you! And falling over doesn’t look good before saying important things, does it?”

Huh, he’s said it out loud.

“Saying what things?”

Well, if it’s out there…

“Where do I start again? Right of course, with how beautiful you look when you’re like this!”

His fingers move to tuck the curtain of white hair behind Geralt’s ears. No matter how much Jaskier loves it when Geralt wears his hair down, he needs to look into those amber eyes without obstruction. The molten gold gleams with surprise and Jaskier wants to drown in it.

“I’m not…” Geralt splutters, before closing his mouth with a pop. The flush is stretching down his neck now, and Jaskier chases it with a hand.

“You are!” he insists petulantly. “You are blushing and it’s beautiful. Adorable too! I wouldn’t know if Lambert hadn’t told me—” he burps. “—um, everything.”

“Told you what?”

The alarm in Geralt’s voice should wake Jaskier up immediately, but alas, the White Gull is no joke.

“Shh!” he stage-whispers, “It’s a secret! Don’t tell Geralt! I need to do it right!”

Jaskier lets out a happy sound and leans into the comforting embrace that he loves so much. Under his fingers, he can feel heat still gather under Geralt’s skin, making him look equally annoyed and fond.

“You are not making sense, Jask.”

“Nothing about you makes sense either, but I’m here. And ready.” Jaskier smiles and presses a chaste kiss on Geralt’s cheekbone, humming another happy sound.

Kissing Geralt is nice, gives Jaskier all the fuzzy feelings.

But somehow, that was also the wrong thing to do, because Geralt has gone stiff under Jaskier’s body. The next thing he knows, the witcher is struggling to untangle their limbs and leaving him empty and cold.

“Don’t…do this,” he murmurs, upset. “Just…don’t.”

The anguish the seeps through Geralt’s voice somehow manages to get through the muddy cloud in Jaskier’s mind.

“Wait, what?” Jaskier rights himself on unsteady feet, but his witcher is long gone. Eskel and Lambert are still nursing their tankards by the fire, and Jaskier wobbles past them without a care. He needs to find Geralt, who apparently charged right out of the great hall and into the cold night.

The heavy wooden doors open and Jaskier is hit with the unrelenting wind. The snow has stopped and partially melted, and frozen all over again. It’s the worst kind. Jaskier takes his steps with caution but still, it’s too slippery.

Okay. Mind. Clear. He needs it to be.

“Geralt?” he calls out, churning with anxiety. “Geralt, where are you?”

Damn his witcher speed. Now Jaskier is walking in the dark and freezing his balls off without an ounce of idea where Geralt might be. Oh, the stalls. Roach must be the first thought Geralt has when he needs to talk. Jaskier shudders, hugging his doublet tighter to fend off the wind and searches for the stalls blindly.

“Geralt, are you—ow!”

He walks right into a pillar and falls on his butt. Before Jaskier can register the pain, a pair of hands are picking him up by the armpits and he stumbles into Geralt’s embrace.

There’s a familiar sizzle of Igni, and the torch by the stalls is roaring with life.

“What are you doing out here?” A coat is tossed over Jaskier’s shoulders and he’s ushered back towards the building.

“Looking for you, you idiot!” Jaskier squawks, albeit grateful for the thick fur coat. A few more minutes he would lose all feelings in his toes. “Running into the night like this, who knows what can happen to you!”

“So you followed me out drunk and with no coat and I’m the idiot? Gods, I don’t know why I even…”

The doors creak open and there’s light and warmth and the smell of mead, but Jaskier’s heart sinks.

“I don’t know why you even bother too,” Jaskier muses, suddenly feeling like a scolded child.

Geralt steers Jaskier past the other wolf witchers and straight into his room, where the heat feels like a furnace on Jaskier’s frozen fingers—Geralt has been secretly tending to Jaskier’s fire for weeks after the human came down with a cold upon arrival at the keep. He’s too good to Jaskier.

“You are too good to me.”

“And you are a pain in the ass.”

Geralt sits Jaskier down in front of the fire rather grumpily, before joining him and pulling the coat even tighter. He’s still mad, just a smidge, but the droop of his eyes speaks more of sadness.

“Hey, talk to me,” Jaskier coaxes, squeezing Geralt’s knee in reassurance. Whatever argument coming their way, he can’t stand Geralt being sad.

“How drunk are you?”

“Not very.” If Geralt walking out hadn’t put Jaskier out of his daze, the wind sure finished the job. “White gull passes quickly. Hmm, who would have thought…”

“I need to tell you something.”

“But I need to tell you something too! It’s important.”

“Let me go first?”

The plead comes out in a whisper, and who is Jaskier to reject Geralt like this, wide-eyed and earnest?

“I never meant for you to know, and certainly not on a night like this, but Jaskier…” Geralt heaves out a breath, determined and so so brave. Jaskier is drawn closer to Geralt’s body like a magnet, ready to soothe, to meet him halfway. “I am in love with you.”

“Geralt.”

“I know you don’t feel the same, and it’s okay. You make a living singing about loving. Hell, you make a living simply by loving. Music, adventures, people, so many people. It’s okay that your heart is too big for me. But, Jask, I can’t take it anymore.”

“I don’t…not…”

“You flirt with people. You…touch them and kiss them and praise them. It’s okay. It’s the way you are. I understand that when you do the same with me it doesn’t mean anything more, but, Jaskier, I need you to stop.”

“Oh,” Jaskier breathes. “Do you hate it? I thought…differently.”

The smile that tugs at Geralt’s lips can only be described as crestfallen.

“The opposite. I love it too much. I’ll always want more. Always. I’m greedy like this.”

The guilt weighing down on Geralt’s shoulders is not a good sight, a personal offense to Jaskier. His hand reaches out on its own volition, tilting Geralt’s chin up so their gazes meet. The blush is back.

What did Jaskier do in his past life to deserve this man?

“That’s what I was going to say.”

“That you are greedy?”

The frown remains on Geralt’s face, and Jaskier smooths it with the pad of his thumb.

“No. That I am in love with you. Gods, for someone who’s not a bard, you sure know how to steal someone’s line from the beginning,” Jaskier chuckles. “I’ve been trying to tell you that I return your feelings. But alas, you know the coward that I am.”

“You are…not,” he protests, blinking.

The way Geralt defends him on instinct only makes Jaskier’s insides melt into a pool of fuzziness.

“In this, yes. How I fucked up so bad is a mystery. That’s just me I guess, trying to love you but ending up hurting you, making you feel like I’m stringing you along like anyone else.”

“I’m not?”

“No, you oaf.” Jaskier bops his nose. “You are the most important person in the world for me. This is the most important thing in the world to me! I love you and I love it when you blush. Also, I’d very much like to kiss you, if you want it too.”

Jaskier bites into his lips and watches as Geralt’s gaze drops to them, the pink of his cheeks spreading into the most gorgeous crimson. “I want to. Kiss you, that is.”

“Good.”

Jaskier wets his lips with a peak of the tongue and watches the same gesture returned. Even if the alcohol has left his system, the intoxication remains, only this time because of Geralt’s slightly dilated pupils and quickened breathing. He leans in, not being able to resist—

“Did you say ‘return my feelings’?” Geralt dodges away, looking incredulous. “Jaskier, did you know? And what was that about blushing?”

“Um…” Now Jaskier is the one to splutter. Luckily, he has a trick up his sleeves or two that can make sure Geralt forgets about every last thought there is.

Jaskier lunges forward and tackles his witcher onto the soft rug and kisses him within an inch of his life, deepening it like there’s no tomorrow. Judging by the dazed look on Geralt’s face as he comes up for air, the method is working.

Cupping Geralt’s rosy cheeks, Jaskier croaks proudly, “Tell you later?”

“We have all the later we need.” Geralt’s smile is blinding, and equally mischievous. Without a moment of pause, Jaskier ends up the one flipped onto his back and being kissed until he shudders with pleasure.

Jaskier has to thank Lambert properly one day, considering Geralt will certainly go after him with a vengeance.

For now, having Geralt on top of him and slowly melting into a contented mess should be enough. If he’s allowed, Jaskier vows silently, he would really like to make Geralt blush for him for the rest of his life.

Jaskier will totally make it his life's mission to tease Geralt endlessly and see his beautiful blush. 🥰🥰

On another note, I challenged myself to write 2000 words exactly, and this ended up, um, 3000 words exactly. I’ll count it as a win anyway ;)

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #getting together #requited love #kissing #hand holding #winter at kaer morhen #soft jaskier #geralt of rivia blushes

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

Do Us Part

Warnings: nonconsent and rape; oral, fingering, marital discord, cheating, spousal arguments and mental/emotional abuse, age gap (Peter is 24/25 and reader is 35/36)

This is dark!Peter Parker x 30s/’older’ reader and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find it hard to accept that not all good things last as you face the changes in your marriage, yourself, and your marriage.

Note: I wanted to write Peter again but also I’ve seen this nonsense about how 30+ writers are too old for fanfic which is dumb af. And I wanted to turn the age gap trope a little so that it wasn’t the reader being the younger one in the relationship. I label it older reader but I don’t think being in your 30s is old tbh (my bf is 36 so pfft). It was all just a conglomeration of circumstances that inspired a deceivingly sweet dark Peter and I hope you like it. Also it’s 7.4k so a bit of a longer read.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You walked slowly along the transparent shelves set into the pristine white walls of the cosmetics section. The department store was a haze of distant voices and the chirp of scanners as customers milled the aisles and waited their turn to check out. You whiled away your time looking at things you’d never buy as you waited for your husband to return from the men’s department.

You thought of the sparse make-up bag under your sink and the liners and shades you hadn’t used in years. They were likely expired and better tossed in the bin. You hovered along the crystal bottle of designer scents and stopped to test a particular blush-tinted fragrance.

You set the bottle back and peered over at the dark cubbies that housed the men’s scent. Even from there, you could catch a whiff of the heady scents as a younger man with reddish brown hair examined an angular vial of Dior Men. You suddenly felt out of place; a mid-thirties woman in her out-of-season clothes fantasizing about overpriced perfume.

Your husband's voice further cemented your reality as you fingered the golden cap of the Coach eau du parfum. Wesley rolled his eyes and flipped up the little plastic panel that hid the bold prices and huffed.

“I hope you don’t think I’m gonna pay for that shit,” he sneered, “what have you been doing? I was waiting for you.”

He waved a plastic bag as his lip curled and you pressed your mouth shut tightly and swallowed. The day began with another argument as he discovered the seared hole in his shirt and instead of blaming the crappy old dryer, he blamed you. Most of your clothes had been chewed up by the thing but you never complained.

“No, I was just… looking,” you teetered in your flats and glanced around. The young man at the corner display quickly turned to hide his nosy observation, “did you find some new shirts?”

“No thanks to you,” he sniffed.

“Oh,” you played with the hem of your tee and tucked your hands into your pockets nervously. You’d left him to look alone as you only seemed to irritate him and rarely took your advice on matters of clothing, “well, I thought I’d give you some space--”

“Stop acting so pathetic. Start taking responsibility for yourself. For god’s sake, you're almost thirty-six and you don’t know how to hang a shirt to dry?” He spun on his heel and snapped over his shoulder, “let’s go.”

You flinched but followed behind him as he strode away and you stumbled out behind him through the automatic doors. He tossed the bag into the back seat and slammed the door before flopping angrily into the driver’s side. You mirrored him daintily and squeezed your legs together as you tried to make yourself as small as you could.

“I told you about the dryer,” you said.

“And?” he started the engine and slapped his hand around the wheel, “call a fucking electrician or some shit.”

“Alright,” you shrugged as he stopped at the exit of the parking lot and checked his phone quickly.

“Benny wants to do a round of golf,” he peeled out and you grasped the door as your heart raced. You hated how reckless he was when he was angry. You hated how easily he got angry these days.

“Okay,” you picked at the fraying stitching of your purse.

“Don’t start moping,” he sneered, “I fucking work all week and I can’t go out and have a few rounds?”

“I never-- I didn’t say anything,” you murmured.

“You don’t need to,” he turned the wheel sharply as he cut off another car, “you sit at home all day and do what?”

“I work too,” you said.

“Uh huh, sure, if that’s what you call it.”

You ran your fingertip over the bleach stain on the knee of your jeans and said nothing. When he was in a mood, he would latch on anything until he outright exploded. You tried to think of when he changed, when he had stopped being the chill guy you met back in college. It felt like a slow trickle, small things you ignored until it was a mountain you could not see past.

You felt like crying but you’d stopped that a while ago. You existed in a purgatory of acceptance and helplessness. You wanted him to love you again, wanted to believe you could fix things. So you would keep trying. You would do better.

💍

You picked out a large flank of steak and winced at the price. You had a special dinner in mind. It was Friday and the work week was done. You wanted a weekend without a fight and Wesley was always one for a nice big cut of beef. You hadn’t made him one in a while, your dinners were the usual repetitive drumsticks and rice or your homemade mac and cheese.

You continued onto the fish section and grabbed some salmon for yourself. You’d gained some weight and decided to cut out dairy and red meat if you could help it. The pile of produce in your cart reminded you of the extra jiggle around your stomach and thighs. You also grabbed one of those women’s magazines that advertised a regimen to help slim your figure. You only hoped you could stick to it this time.

With your weekly haul in tow, you wheeled up to the check-out and waited behind a young man who looked oddly familiar to you. Maybe that was the passing years. You always felt a vague glimmer of deja vu, more often a sense of forlorn nostalgia of what you would never have again.

As you stared thoughtlessly, he looked over and smiled. He bent in front of your cart and picked up a thin packet of seasoning.

“You dropped this,” he said as he held it out and you thanked him before quickly snatching it and looking away.

He paid for his large bags of chips and over salted pre-packaged meals and packed up at the end as you loaded up your own goods, the cashier sending them down the parallel belt. You swiped your card and tried to calculate the chunk of money from your last check. You thanked the clerk and sidled past the young man as he finished up.

You rounded the counter as he lifted his three bags. You looked up without thinking, the sleeve of his shirt tight around his bicep. You caught yourself staring and looked back down as you packed in the cans.

It reminded you of Wesley; he’d also started being more mindful, he hit the gym after work and you noticed the little pudge that started just after he turned thirty was slimming out. It was that exact reason that made you notice the extra pounds on your own frame, not that you didn’t realise before.

The man left and you unfolded the little buggy you slid under the cart. You loaded your bags into it and dragged the cart behind you as you made an awkward exit with both wheeled trolleys. The compact fabric buggy was easy enough to fit on the bus if you stood.

You pushed the cart into the row of empty ones and continued across the parking lot. You rolled up to the bus shelter and checked the bus times on your phone. You dug out your strip of tickets and ripped one away. You leaned on the thin handle of your trolley and looked over your shoulder as you heard someone approach.

The man who checked out ahead of you put his bags on the metal bench inside the shelter as he sipped on a bright drink from the place just beside the grocery shop. He sent you a smile over his straw and you spun back to crane your head and search for the bus.

When the metal beast barreled up and cranked to a stop at the curb, the man waited behind you and as your wheels caught on the edge of the ramp, he reached around you and helped push it over the lip. You thanked him shyly and continued up. Usually you tried to keep the shop light on weekdays but you hadn’t really been paying attention.

You pushed your cart against the small barrier just behind the accessible seating and stood beside it, conscious not to take up too much space. The man stood just behind you two bags on one shoulder and the other dangling from the opposite elbow as he sucked on his straw. You grabbed the upright bar as the bus took off and watched the electronic banner for your stop.

A sharp stop had you veering back and you were caught by the young man as he chucked, “oop, you okay?”

“Yes, thank you,” you muttered and gave a sheepish smile over your shoulder.

“There’s a seat,” he gestured just behind you, “I’ll watch your stuff.”

“Um, no it’s… fine,” you gripped the bar tighter as the bus shuttled forward, “my stop is soon.”

You looked ahead of you and three stops passed before yours. You exited through the front with your buggy and headed down the sidewalk as the bus pulled away. You were exhausted just from your little sojourn and it wasn’t even two o’clock. God, you felt old.

💍

You had a salad chopped and tossed and the steak and fish laid out and seasoned. As you listened to your old Spotify list, the music dipped and the notification blipped over the screen. You washed your hands and grabbed the phone. You frowned as you read the lone message from Wesley, the only one you got from him all day.

‘Just finished at the gym, getting drinks with Andrew,’ you read and re-read the message as your heart fell.

You typed out a whole angry response and backspaced it all. You replaced it with ‘ok, have fun’ and blacked the screen. You shoved the meat back in the fridge and stretched saran wrap over the bowl of salad. You placed it on a lower shelf and closed the door, quickly swiping a can of the craft beer Wesley kept around.

You shut the light off in the kitchen and ignored the pang in your stomach as you cracked the can. You climbed the stairs as you sipped the hoppy foam. You put it on the night table and changed into the old butterfly pajamas you wore most nights and turned on the tv mounted against the wall.

You turned on Netflix but hardly paid attention to the carelessly chosen movie. You sat against the headboard and down the bitter beer until the can was hollow and your eyelids were heavy. You slumped down so that your shoulders were at your ears and dozed off in the stiff position as the room moved with the colours of the television.

The anger and alcohol shaded your shallow sleep and you hardly heard Wesley when he came in, only waking when your bladder was ready to burst and his snores rumbled in your head. You went to the bathroom and returned, wide awake, and stared at the shape of him in the dark.

You remembered when he used to kiss you when he came home, even when you were asleep, he’d wake you with the little pecks. You remembered when he was happy to come home. You remembered when you were happy.

You swallowed the acrid aftertaste of beer and left him to snore. You went downstairs and curled up on the couch but didn’t sleep. You just stared at the shadows of the furniture until the sun rose.

💍

The next day, Wesley didn’t wake until after noon and when he did, he didn’t say a word to you. He took his coffee and sat at the patio table in the back as you stewed and cleaned the kitchen. You had nothing to say to him even if you felt stupid for being mad.

“Gotta head down to the dealership,” he said as he interrupted your scouring of the stove.

“The dealership?” you said after a moment, deciding whether or not to break your vow of silence.

“I told you on Wednesday, I’m picking up the car--”

“We talked about this. We should wait a little longer--”

“It’s my money and I got a great price,” he sighed, “just because you have to pinch your pennies--”

“We’re married,” you squeezed the foam sponge, “it’s our money. Don’t act like I don’t pay for anything around here.”

“Oh thanks, honey, so wonderful you paid for a five dollar steak,” he scoffed, “I’ll be impressed when you can make a mortgage payment on your own.”

“How dare you!” you turned your back to him and kept scrubbing, “fine, but not a penny of my money is going to that thing.”

“That’s fine, I’m selling the old one, that should cover most of it--”

“What?” you slammed your hand between the burner, “you said we would hold onto it so I had something to--”

“Then you can buy it from me,” he said venomously.

“I’m your wife,” you spun to scowl at him again, “I-- what is wrong with you?”

He tilted his head and squinted as he poked his tongue out along his lip. “Nothing wrong with me,” he shrugged, “what’s wrong with you?”

“Don’t--” you warned as you pointed a finger at him through the bright yellow gloves, “don’t do that… I’ve been trying and you just keep pushing me away.”

“Me pushing you away?” he rolled his eyes, “you were passed out last night when I got home. Maybe if you didn’t fall asleep before nine I could actually fuck you… or at least get it up if you worked on losing some of that cellulite on your ass.”

Your lip quivered and you sucked in a breath. You shook your head and turned around again. You ignored him as your hand shook and you continued your work, scratching at the dried-on food around the burner. His empty mug clinked onto the counter and you listened to his exit.

Fuck him and his new car. You were done trying with him.

💍

Wesley’s new car was shrouded in the shade of the garage as the old black Hyundai sat out on the driveway with a red and white “For Sale” sign on the windshield. Right after he got back from his extravagant purchase, he made the listing online and several perusers stopped by Saturday night but Sunday morning saw the car still there.

You sat by the border of stones around the garden as he drank beer in the garage and approached any interested buyers who appeared; although so far he’d only had two before noon.

You tucked your clippers into your apron pocket and dusted off your gloves as you stood. You were a little dizzy from sitting out in the sun and a glass of water was the perfect excuse to drown out the annoying sound of your husband’s voice.

You ignored Wesley as you trod through the garage and kicked your sneakers off on the mat right before the three steps up to the house. You went to the kitchen and put your gloves on the counter as you filled a glass from the dispenser on the front of the fridge. You’d given up everything but water and the slices of lemon were the only flavour you had.

You took the glass and your gloves and headed back. Wesley waited just at the bottom of the stairs as he glared up at you with arms crossed. You sighed and descended but he didn’t let you pass.

“What is your problem?”

“Are you really asking me that?” you hissed.

“You giving me the silent treatment isn’t gonna fix this,” he snarled.

“You know what you said so… I shouldn’t have to tell you to apologize,” you retorted and he stayed put.

“Is this about the car?”

“The car is just another thing,” you cross an arm around your stomach, “you think I couldn’t use it to get around, to get the groceries maybe? Or, I don’t know, maybe since you have such a problem with my home office, I could go out and get a ‘big girl’ job as you put it so many times--”

“Your mother has a car she never drives. You can just take her with you, two birds, one stone. I need to sell this to pay for the new one--”

“The one I begged you not to buy,” you huffed, “you could’ve waited a few more years until we were a little more comfortable--”

“Oh, wait? Until we have a kid and all my money goes to it,” he snapped, “yeah, I’m sure we’d have the money then--”

“You’d have to fuck to do that,” you stepped down the last step and pushed past him.

As you came into the sunlight and shielded your eyes, a figure stood by the garden, knelt just by your tulips as he felt the soft petals. You narrowed your eyes. You recognized him for sure. It was the stranger from the bus.

“Um, hi?” you croaked as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Hey, it’s… you again,” he chuckled softly as he stood, “I saw an ad for a car and… well, I’m getting tired of the bus.”

“Oh, uh, my husband,” you pointed over your shoulder, “you’ll have to talk to him.”

“Okay,” he smiled, “Peter,” he held out his hand and you stared at it. You introduced yourself and shook his firm grip.

“Like I said, it’s my husband selling the car,” you brushed by him and got to your knees by the flowerbed. “Unless you’re looking to buy some wilting pansies.”

“Hmm, I like the tulips better,” he said as he slowly inched away, “thanks.”

You sat back on your heels and he strode over to the open garage. You heard Wesley greet him and didn’t bother paying attention to the same pitch you’d heard all morning. You pulled on your gloves and wiggled your nose as it tingled. You really just wanted to keel over and bawl.

“Sold,” Wesley announced and you heard a clap, “all yours!”

“I’ll just transfer the deposit,” Peter said and a minute passed before he emerged again, the keys hanging from his finger, “Thanks, Wes.”

You hid your distaste. It used to be that Wesley hated being called ‘Wes’ but lately, he introduced himself to everyone as just ‘Wes’. He really had changed. You must have too.

“Hey,” you looked up and blinked as the sun made your eyes water as it shone around Peter.

“You bought it?” you asked as you yanked free a weed.

“Yep, but uh,” he glanced over his shoulder as the old car stereo Wesley used blared out a classic rock tune, “I… wasn’t eavesdropping but I heard some of it and… if you ever need a ride to the grocery store, I usually try for Wednesdays,” he tucked his hand in his pocket, “I don’t live too far and since we go to the same one--”

“No, no, you don’t have to do that,” you looked back to the soil, embarrassed.

“Well, if you change your mind,” he kept the keys dangling from one finger and reached into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet and slid out a card with some effort, “I’m supposed to have these handy but I never really use them.”

He offered the business card and you read his name above the title, ‘senior photographer’. You gave a half-hearted smile and put it in your apron pocket.

“Thanks,” you said, “I can manage.”

“You don’t have to though,” he said kindly, “but I’ll, uh, leave you to your gardening. Sorry if I bugged you.”

“You didn’t,” you assured without looking up, flattered that anyone cared enough to even offer help.

“Hey, Pete,” Wesley stopped Peter as he neared the car, “you can have one before you go.”

“Oh, no, I’m gonna be driving,” Peter argued.

“Pfft, it’s a celebration and one won’t put you over the limit,” Wesley insisted and handed him a dark bottle of craft brew, ��come on.”

“I really should go--”

“It’s a Sunday, where do you need to be?” Wesley patted his shoulder and looked over at you, “hey, honey, you wanna see if we have any snacks for our guest?”

“I’m not hungry,” Peter said curtly, “really. Just the beer is fine.”

They disappeared back into the garage and you cringed. You hated that. Wesley only every acted like a husband when others were around.

💍

You waited a whole week before returning to the grocery store. You were short on everything and it was a reason to get out of the house. Your husband had made both your home and your workplace hostile.

It irked you that Wesley resented you working from home when a couple years ago he was so happy about it. Then, he’d been so enthusiastic about starting a family but when it didn’t happen right away, he grew disillusioned and bitter. Now, he seemed to have no interest in being a husband let alone a father.

As you packed up your spinach and bottles of Perrier, your cart rolled just a little as someone nudged it from the other end. You raised your head and hid your surprise and discomfort as Peter smiled back at you.

“I thought you said Wednesdays,” you murmured as you dropped a bag in your cart.

“I forgot eggs,” he held up the carton, “I guess I have good timing.”

“You do?” you asked as you pulled your cart forward and maneuvered around to push it out of the way of fellow shoppers. You bent to grab your trolley from beneath and he caught it as you unfolded it.

“I’ll drive you,” he said.

“I told you--”

“I’m here so why not? Save the ticket for next time,” he urged.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why does it matter? Why do I matter to you?” you asked.

“I don’t know, I… like helping people,” he shrugged, “what if I told you you were helping me? I have this horrible need to be the hero.”

“That will go away,” you muttered under your breath and he lifted a brow, “sorry, I… thank you.”

“Alright, let’s go then,” he collapsed the trolley and carried it easily under his arm as he cradled his eggs in the other, “I got the A/C fixed on the car too.”

“Mmm,” you hummed and walked with him out of the store.

You crossed the parking lot and helped you load up the bags in the trunk. That car should have been yours; you’d made enough payments on it yourself but Wesley was such a stubborn ass.

You sat in the front seat as he slid into the other and started the car. He drove cautiously through the lot and you read the store signs as he came to the exit.

“How long have you and… the old man been together?”

“Um,” you glanced over at him and chewed your lip, “since college so… almost fifteen years now.”

“Fifteen?” he turned out onto the street, “really? I thought he was older than you.”

“Christ,” you scoffed, “don’t flatter me.”

“Really, I woulda said twenty-eight at most,” he said coolly, “wow, I feel so young now.”

“And I feel so old,” you grumbled as you crossed your legs, hoping he didn’t notice the wrinkle in the pink capris.

“Whatever, you’re not even forty,” he said, “and time has treated you well so I can only think in a few years… oh jeez, sorry, that came off weirder than I intended. Not that I meant for it to be weird at all--”

You giggled at his rambling as he rolled to a stop at the sign and peeked over at you in the rearview. You caught his eye and quickly looked away, “what?”

“Just… you have a nice smile,” he said as he turned down a side street, “and a nice laugh.”

“Thank you,” your voice was brittle at the genuine compliment, “you’re funny.”

“Am I? I wasn’t trying to be,” he took the same short cut you took when you walked home from the convenience store which was closer than the plaza.

“And nice,” you said as he came onto your street, “you really didn’t have to drive me. You could’ve dropped me at the corner--”

“No way, I was raised better than that, and if you think I’m letting you carry that all in by yourself--”

“Raised to help little old ladies?” you mused.

“Raised to treat ladies properly,” he corrected, “especially pretty ones.”

“I’m married,” your heart pattered as you dared to flirt back, almost in disbelief that he was humouring you, “and your lies don’t work on me, young man.”

“Not that young,” he insisted as he pulled into the driveway.

You got out and went around to the trunk. He handed you the bag with the bread and other light products, and loaded up with the other bags.

“You get the doors, let me do the heavy work,” he said and nodded you towards the house.

You went ahead of him and unlocked the door. You let him inside and pointed him into the kitchen. He placed the bags on the counter and stretched his arms and hands as you set yours on the other side. The muscles of his arms moved under his skin and you could trace the lines of his torso through his grey tee.

“So,” he took out the bottle of Perrier, “this going in the fridge?”

“What-- you’ve done enough.”

“Fridge?” he ignored you and pulled out the other.

You gave a long blink and threw up your hands in surrender, “yes, please,” you came around and reached in to grab the whole grain buns, “bottom shelf.”

You finished unpacking your groceries and took the empty bags from Peter and shoved them under the counter. You stood and looked at him nervously as he watched you, his fingers tapping on the granite.

“Do you want a snack? Something to drink? Water?”

“I’ll have a water,” he said and moved to leaned his elbow on the countertop, his side snug to the edge.

“Sparkling or--”

“Regular’s fine,” he answered

“Ice? Lemon?” you pulled out a tall glass.

“Just ice is fine… then I’ll be out of your hair,” he said.

Ice clinked into the glass and you covered it with the distilled water from the fridge. You slid it onto the counter and stepped back.

“Oh, I… actually, it’s a good thing I ran into you,” he said and took a sip, “my aunt, she likes to garden too but she got some bulbs she’s not gonna use, I thought maybe… maybe you would like some to fill in the holes?”

“What kind?” you asked.

“Some daffodils and some crocuses, I think,” he said, “I could bring them over next week after work?”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” you scrunched your lips, “you could probably just give them to a neighbour.”

“It’s not out of the way,” he said, “you want them?”

You stared at him and thought. He was nice. Too nice.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing, I… I’m sure you have a girlfriend you could be spending time with--”

“I don’t. Not anymore,” he interrupted.

“Oh, sorry,” you said, “I didn’t--”

“Like I said, I always wanna be the good guy,” he finished his water and the last of the cubes settled at the bottom, “thanks.”

“No, thank you,” you said as he set his glass in the sink and backed away, “really, you made my day so much easier.”

“I hope your weekend is better,” he said, “but…”

He didn’t finished and you folded your hands together as he hesitated by the hallway.

“But what?” you prodded.

“Nothing,” he shook his head, “nothing. I should go.”

“Okay,” you rubbed the back of your neck, “see ya.”

“Monday,” he confirmed as he turned to the doorframe, “I’ll bring the bulbs. Just after seven.”

“Right,” you slanted your lips and watched him go.

The door marked his departure and you turned to exhale and lean against the counter. You could still smell his rich cologne. Then you felt guilty. It was stupid to think he was doing anything more than being nice, that the flirting was anything but a joke, but still, you missed feeling that way and it should’ve been Wesley making you feel that.

💍

You squeezed the phone as you clenched your jaw so tight it hurt. Your eyes were wet and finally the tears were ready to start falling. The smell of steak filled the kitchen, another meal you wouldn’t eat. At the last minute, Wesley texted to tell you he was hitting the gym. Again. He was already late after a long meeting but promised he’d be home to eat.

So you waited for him to answer your furious phone call but got his voicemail instead. Your eyes narrowed at the bottle of wine and your chest knotted as the tone sounded.

“Wesley, this is it. I can’t do this anymore! I’m your wife. Do you even want to be with me? I can’t go on like this and now you won’t even answer my calls,” you snarled. You knew he had his phone on him as he no doubt had his Spotify work-out list on shuffle, “when you come home, you can sleep on the couch.”

You hung up and grabbed a stemmed glass from the cupboard. You filled it to the brim with Pinot Grigio but before you could taste it, the doorbell made you jump. You set down the glass and walked up the hallway. Just on the other side of the frosted glass was a silhouette. You opened the door and touched your forehead as you faced Peter.

“I totally forgot you were coming,” you breathed, “I’m so sorry. But thank you, you really didn’t have to--”

“Are you okay?” he asked as the paper bag in his hand crinkled.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I… thank you for the flowers,” you looked at the brown paper bag and he handed it over, another bag on his wrist; white with ribbon handles, “what’s that? You headed out for a date?”

“Um, no,” he said, “actually, I was just…” he pushed his fingers through his hairs, the reddish brown locks slightly curled with sweat, “I wanted to talk to you.” He looked past you and his warm eyes returned to yours, “Wesley isn’t home yet?”

“No, he won’t be for a while,” you backed up, “so you might as well come in. I have a steak no one’s gonna eat.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t be,” Peter said glumly, “and steak sounds good.”

He closed the door behind him and followed you into the kitchen. You put the bulbs at the back of the counter and grabbed the bottle, “wine?”

“No thank you,” he said.

You plunked down the bottle and took a gulp of your wine before you turned to plate the steak and your chicken breast alongside the fried asparagus and roasted potatoes. You set the filet before him as he sat on the stool and climbed up across from him at the long island.

“Thank you,” he watched you slide a steak knife and fork towards him and his gaze lingered on your lips as you took another thirsty mouthful, “this is for you, actually.”

He pushed the white bag over to you and you smelled the subtle floral scent rising from it. You put your glass down and pushed open the top of the bag and peeked inside. You shook your head and rescinded your hand as if you were slapped. It was the same perfume from that day weeks ago.

“You… how?”

“You don’t remember?” he asked.

You thought back on the day you wanted to forget. He was the other shopper in the perfume section, the one who sent you that sympathetic look as Wesley reproached you. You winced and grabbed your utensils. You cut into the chicken and shoved it in your mouth. You swallowed loudly.

“Take it back,” you sniffed, “I don’t want it. I don’t deserve it.”

“You do. He doesn’t deserve you,” he carefully sliced into the medium rare steak.

“Is that what this is? Some perverted joke? A challenge?” you dropped your fork and knife, “you think you can seduce the sad housewife and then laugh at it? Sow your wild oats?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” he calmly put down the silverware, “I… what I didn’t say when I showed up is I just came from the gym.”

You frowned in confusion and wrinkled your nose. You took another drink of wine as you tried to understand.

“I saw Wesley,” he said as he leaned on his elbow and pulled out his phone with his other hand, “I didn’t wanna say anything but… you’re here beating yourself up over him and-- just look.”

He slid his phone across the counter and you looked at the screen. Your entire body felt heavy and your veins filled with ice. You dropped your head into your hands as you tried to wipe the sight from your eyes; the image of your husband groping a woman in yoga pants, an act she wasn’t deterring.

“I knew it,” you sobbed as the tears burst forth and leaked down your palms, “I knew it. And why wouldn’t he? I’m old, ugly--” you sniffed and pulled your hands away to wipe them on your pants. Peter held out a paper towel and you took it as you avoided his eyes, “thank you but I think you should go. I’m humiliated enough.”

“You shouldn’t be alone,” he said as he climbed down from the stool and rounded the island, “he’s an asshole. He’s blind.”

“Please, Peter, just leave me alone,” you slid off the stool and he caught your shoulders. You looked up at him as you dabbed away the streaks of sadness with the paper towel, “Peter--”

“I’m not leaving,” he said firmly, “he’s out there having his fun, so why don’t you have some of your own?”

“Peter, that’s-- that’s wrong. I’m too old for you. And… I’m fat and--”

“You’re perfect,” he reached up to frame your chin with his hand, “you’re gorgeous,” his other hand trailed down your arm and to your hip, “that’s the first thing I noticed about you…” he pulled you closer and tapped your ass lightly.

“No, I can’t-- I just want to be alone,” you pushed on his arms and felt the thick biceps as he flexed and kept you close.

“Well, baby, what I want,” he turned you so that you were pinned between him and the island, “is for you to put on that perfume… I want you wearing nothing but that.”

“Peter,” you pushed on his chest that time and the hard muscle wall didn’t budge, “Peter, go--”

“Baby,” he bent and scooped you up suddenly.

His hands spread over your ass as he lifted you and crushed his lips against yours. You murmured in surprise and he placed you on the granite countertop. He parted from your lips as you sat up and he shoved your legs apart, inserting himself between your knees. He played with the bottom of the dress you’d worn in hopes of rekindling your dying marriage.

“We can go slow,” he tickled along your thighs and pulled back suddenly, “just a little at a time.”

He leaned in as he reached around you and grabbed the small white bag. He pulled out the perfume and snaked his hand around your neck. He pulled you to bend over him and he kissed your neck just before he sprayed a puff of perfume across your throat. He stood back and took a deep breath. He put the bottle on the counter and his hands went back to your skirt.

“Peter,” you caught his hands as they crept under the fabric, “please.”

You tried to slide forward and he stopped you as he grasped your hips and held you in place. He bit his lip as his eyes glimmered up at you. He drew a hand away and took the glass of wine and held it before your mouth.

“Drink, relax,” he cooed, “forget about him.”

You stared at him and he brought your hand up with his and wrapped it around the full body of the glass. He nudged it to your lips and watched you until you drank from the crystal rim. He smirked and lifted your skirt as he bent to bury his head beneath the folds.

You gulped and choked on the wine as your skirt fluttered down over his shoulders. You felt his finger on the lace trim of your panties and winced. He squeezed your thighs with his other hand and nuzzled the crotch of your underwear. You tried to close your legs but he kept them apart easily.

He curled his fingers under the elastic of your panties and tugged. He pulled until you lifted your ass just enough for him to get them free and he guided them down your legs before quickly parting them again.

You set down the glass and almost overturned it, the last mouthful splashing up the side. You pressed your hands to the granite and peered down at the shape of his head beneath your skirt. You gasped as his cool tongue grazed your warm folds and delved deeper.

“Peter…” you wisped and closed your eyes as you tried to hide from your own shame.

He purred as his tongue flicked over your clit and you twitched. He caressed the crease of your thigh with his fingers as he lapped at your, his other hand pressed against your stomach until you fell back across the counter. You arched your back instinctively and his hand cupped your tit through your dress.

He blindly pulled until your chest slipped out and pushed the cup of your bra as he teased your clit with his tongue. He felt along your cunt with his fingers and shoved his index inside of you. You moaned as he pushed another inside and curled them as he suckled on your bud.

Your core burned to life. Your entire being was set alight after months without affection. You quivered in delight and fear. Your nerves stormed both out of guilt and hunger. It felt so good but you knew it was wrong. The scent of the perfume filled your nose as your skin grew hot.

He moved his hand in time with his mouth as he doted on you. His touch intensified as your legs bent around the side of the island and your fingernails dragged along the granite, your voice rising without thought. He pinched your nipple and you cried out as you came in a wave of sheer pleasure and grabbed his wrist as you tried to steady yourself.

He eased off slowly as you trembled in the afterglow, his lingering touch tickled along your legs as he pushed your dress up. He pulled you to sit up and lifted the fabric over your head and ripped your sleeves free from your arms. He tossed as side the garment and swiftly covered your mouth with his so you tasted your own arousal on his tongue.

He unhooked your bra blindly and slid it off your arms. You were intensely aware of your nakedness and as you brought your arms up to cover yourself, he forced them down and ran his hands over your bare torso.

“Beautiful,” he said as he laid a trail of gentle pecks along your throat and chest, pausing to take a nipple in his mouth as he rolled the other between his fingers and sent a shiver through you.

He kneaded your sides and hips, his fingers danced along your thighs and he followed the path with his mouth, kissing and nipping your flesh. He lifted his head again as he took your hands and twined his fingers through yours. He tugged you gently until you slid off the counter and landed on your feet shakily.

“Baby, you’re so amazing,” he placed your hands on his chest and pushed them down his muscled torso and brought them back up beneath his tee shirt, “go on.”

He let you go and you continued to roll up his tee. He dipped his head and raised his arms to help you and you clung to the tee as it fell limp in your grasp. Dazed, he snatched the shirt from your hands and flung it. He once more pressed your hands to his chest and guided you in feeling the lines of his toned flesh.

He pushed your hands against the top of his jeans and leaned into you. He kissed your temple and whispered along your hairline, “turn around, baby.” He squeezed your ass and purred, “mmmm, please, I wanna see that ass.”

You blinked, dazed, and spun slowly. You caught yourself on the edge of the counter as your legs trembled and you heard the subtle zip. He kicked his foot between yours and pushed your legs apart as he led you back so that you were slightly bent against the island. He ran his nails down your back and gripped your hip with one hand as his other drew away from your skin.

You flinched as you felt his smooth tip against your ass and he rubbed it between your cheeks. You inhaled and held in your breath as his hold on your tightened and he angled his dick under your ass and grazed your cunt. He poked your entrance and pressed his chest to your back as his hand covered yours on the granite.

He slid into you and your voice fizzled in the air as he forced the air from your lungs. You pushed your head back and it met his shoulder as his other hand crawled down your front. He spread your folds with his fingers and swirled another around your clit as he tilted his hips and thrust into you slowly.

“Ah, Peter,” you slapped the counter and he shushed you as his hand left yours cold and his fingers stretched over your throat.

His motion picked up as the noise of him crashing into you echoed around the kitchen. Your eyes rolled back as he rammed into you even harder. You were on tiptoes as he was driven by the weak moans that leaked from your lips and your wet pleasure squelched around him. He pressed two fingers to your bud and rubbed until you squeaked and your thighs quaked around him.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, “I bet you never cum like that for him.”

You whined and he sped up again. He pinned you against the counter so that the lip pressed into your stomach. He took his hand from your cunt and pushed your head down as he kept his other hand around your neck. He didn’t waver once as he fucked you.

“Touch yourself, baby,” he commanded, “I want you to cum again for me. I know you want to too.”

His thick breath warmed the air and grazed your back as he held you down and his hold on your neck tightened until silver stars rose in your vision. Your feet dangled against the tile and you reached down to play with your clit as it buzzed. It was only seconds before you were murmuring in ecstasy once more.

“Fuck, baby, can you feel that? The way your clinging to me,” he puffed as he slammed into you over and over, “he can hardly fill you, can he? Hmmm? Little man.”

You wheezed as he choked you and his other hand kept your head pinned. You heard a distant creak but could barely do more than keep your fingers moving as your heartbeat deafened you. You came again and croaked as your cunt squeezed him hungrily.

“What the fuck?” the voice broke your lusty trance and suddenly you were pulled away from the counter.

Your head lulled as Peter held it up and turned you around, his pelvis slapping against your ass as you faced your husband. Your mouth hung open as your blurred vision barely registered the scene and the deep grunts only got louder behind you.

“Look who’s here,” Peter rasped as he snaked his arm around you.

“The fuck are you doing?” Wesley sneered as your eyes closed and your ass rang with each thrust.

“What you can’t,” Peter snickered, “doesn’t she look so happy?” He grasped your chin and pushed his fingers into your mouth as he held your head up, “well, you into watching or you gonna let us finish, old man?”

#peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #fic #peter parker x reader #dark fic #one shot #dark!fic #do us part #marvel #mcu #spider-man #avengers

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griffintail · 4 years ago

Text

Bedroom Confessions

Summary: After waking up from a night of drinking (Y/N) and her helper confess a few things. (Part 2 to Drunken Care and Cuddles)

Requested: Yes by @exorcisms-with-elmo

Pairings: Wilbur, Technoblade, Awesamdude x F! Reader (Separately, In-Game)

Warnings: Hangover?, mentions of drinking, Swearing

A/N: Phil was not included because I already made them dating so I just did these three. Thank you for requesting! Hope you enjoy! ♥

Wilbur

It took a while but Wilbur was able to go to sleep. Everything just felt so right and it was a comfortable warmth but eventually, he managed an hour or two of sleep.

The peaceful slumber was cut short though as Wilbur jumped at the sound of his son’s shout that woke up him.

“Sorry! I was just looking for you! Come back later!” Fundy quickly said before closing the door.

Wilbur rubbed his eyes as he tried to wake his groggy mind. Why would Fundy be looking for him…? Right, there had been a party last night and Wilbur was known to get drunk but he hadn’t last night. He had been glad to because…

His eyes snapped down to see the woman groaning as she woke up after Fundy’s shouting.

“Why the hell were you…?” She started to call as she kept her eyes shut tight to fight off the hangover but stopped, feeling something off.

This didn’t feel like her bed…

She reluctantly opened her eyes and looked up to meet the face of a bright red Wilbur, her own face heating up rapidly as she jumped back. Her head pounded at the fast movements but she couldn’t help it right now. Why the hell was she in a bed with her new president?! The same guy she had a crush on since she first met him!

“I’m sorry.” He told her quickly. “You hadn’t gotten drunk last night and since you didn’t have a home right now, I brought you here. And I tried to sleep in the front but you didn’t want to be left alone.”

“Oh god, what did drunk me say?” (Y/N) thought as she tried to form words.

Wilbur stood up on the side of the bed, nervously running a hand through his hair.

“I’m so sorry sir.” (Y/N) finally said, wincing at her headache. “I hope I wasn’t too much of a bother to you.”

“It’s alright, I was more worried about making you uncomfortable in the morning.” He told her before clearing his throat. “I’ll be in the front of the van if you need anything. There should be a few potions in the chest to help the headache too.”

With that, Wilbur let himself out of the room, no one else in the van now. Because no one was there, he put both his hands on either side of his head.

“Alright, don’t freak out again.” He muttered to himself. “Just act normal. Not like you slept in the same bed as her and don’t even know if she likes you…Damn it, stop!”

Meanwhile, (Y/N) tried to calm down the redness spread across her face as she stood up. She spotted her coat and hat on a chest and she put them on before digging through the chest. There was a spare health potion and she took a small drink of it to lessen the pain in her head, the potion unable to fix it completely as that wasn’t its purpose.

As she stood there adjusting her hat, she desperately tried to remember what she might have said last night. She remembered starting to drink with the others as they all cheered and celebrated. Wilbur told everyone he just wanted to enjoy their new freedom. Everything else was fuzzy.

Wilbur had taken her to a place to sleep like the true gentleman he was and even procced to put up her drunk self. It made (Y/N) smile softly, reminding her why she liked Wilbur before she frowned about what she might have said that she can’t remember.

“God, I better not have something stupid.” She muttered before taking a deep breath and walking away.

Wilbur had distracted himself, cleaning up the mess that had been created of the chaos from the final battle. When the door opened, he saw (Y/N) and gave her a smile.

“You ok love?”

“Yes, Mr. President.” She smiled back, putting her hands behind her back.

If he was acting like normal, maybe she didn’t say something embarrassing.

“Please, I’d like it if you still called me Wilbur.” He told her, a light blush back on his face.

“Oh, alright Wilbur.” She nodded slightly.

He put the things he had in his hands away properly, (Y/N) shifting on feet before helping to tidy a few things as well. After he put the things away, he adjusted his jacket nervously. Now was a better time than any, before they both had to work and Wilbur had to deal with the men outside.

“I…I wanted to talk about you some things you said last night,” Wilbur said.

(Y/N) froze and gave him an embarrassed smile. “Oh god, what did I say?”

Wilbur once more ran a hand through his hair as his nerves shot up. “When—When you asked me to stay…you told me you loved me.”

(Y/N) went bright red as she stood up straight, hiding behind her hands. “You’re joking right?”

Wilbur melted, she looked so adorable like that and his mind lost all thought for a moment. “I—No, love. You said that.”

“I’m so sorry Wilbur. I shouldn’t have ever drunk last night.” (Y/N) started to ramble as Wilbur came over to her.

He took her hands and moved them from her face.

“Calm down darling.” He muttered. “I told you that to simply ask you, did you mean it?”

Wilbur stood nervously as (Y/N) ducked her head, before nodding.

“I do like you, ever since we first met.”

His heart swelled and he smiled widely before tilting her head up to kiss her forehead, causing the woman to freeze. His nervousness flooded away knowing that it was true.

“Well then let me tell you that I fell in love with you since you told Dream to fuck off right to his face.”

“Really?” She breathed.

“Would I ever lie to you love?” He chuckled and she shook her head slowly. “Good, now that we have that sorted, would you give me the honor of being L’Manberg’s first lady?”

“…I’d be honored President Wilbur Soot.” She smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Technoblade

“…what the hell are you doing in my bed?” Technoblade heard, groaning at being woken up.

He opened an eye to see (Y/N) squinted at him to avoid the light and having just woken up herself.

“You were being stupid last night.” He said simply before closing his eye again.

Neither was embarrassed by the situation of being in such a position. They’d both deny it to their grave, but there had been times when they were scared or needed comfort and both were their own comfort friend as they had been best friends for years now. They had fallen asleep like this before, though not in a while as both had started to develop feelings for the other, neither noticing as they were as dense as bricks.

“What does that mean you damn nerd?” She huffed.

“That’s my line.” He pushing her away from him but she avoided his hand and sat back on her own, rubbing her eyes.

“What happened last night?” She asked.

“You got drunk.”

“Yeah, I can kind of tell by my headache. But that could be because of you.”

He opened his eyes slightly to give her a glare, which made her smirk.

“But seriously, what happened?”

“All of you had a party, I stayed out of that.” He told her. “I didn’t know you got drunk so easily but you did. You became sickly nice and Tommy tried to scam you while you were.”

“That little prick.” She glared at the door.

“We’ll deal with him later.” Techno waved his hand. “After, you wouldn’t leave me the hell alone and had me stay with you.”

(Y/N) blushed lightly at that but turned away, not looking at Techno as he closed his eyes again. He didn’t want to bring up what she said yet, his thoughts still fried about it. She was drunk, she couldn’t have meant it. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make fun of her for it without directly telling her.

“Well, nothing too embarrassing.” She muttered.

“I mean, you were pretty stupidly embarrassing.” He snorted quietly.

“What does that mean?” She threw up her arms.

“You told me to not tell Technoblade a secret.” He told her, not giving her the whole truth.

“Oh my god.” She put her face in her hands. “What secret?”

“I mean, if I talk about it, technically I’m telling Technoblade.” He shrugged.

“What leap in logic is that?!” She exclaimed, wincing at the pain she caused her head.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” He cracked an eye open again, watching her. “And technically, I’ll hear if I say the secret out loud.”

“Well, I already said it to you, you jackass.” She rubbed her temple. “So, tell me.”

He looked to think about it before shaking his head as he finally got up. “Nah.”

“I fucking hate you.” She groaned, laying down on her bed.

Techno paused at the door, thinking for a moment before deciding to just say it.

“No, you love me. Oops, guess I heard.” He smirked at her trying to play it casually, making her sit up quickly, face bright red.

“I did not say that.” She tried to call the bluff.

“Sorry nerd, you did. You were drunk though so…”

She played with her shirt and he stayed where he was.

“…did you hate that I said it?”

Techno stood there watching her. It was obvious that she did mean it. That her word had been true and matched his emotions. He debated his next words as the voices were telling them how soft it would make him, how she was already in the way because she was his friend and too nice to be with the blood god, how he should keep his mouth shut.

“No, I didn’t. I love you too nerd.” He told her; his face deadly serious as (Y/N) looked up in surprise.

“You mean it?”

“Do I lie?”

“You try, but you’re terrible at it.” She admitted.

“Heh?!”

She giggled, and his expression softened at the sound.

“So, how about we leave Wilbur to mope with his hangover with Tommy and we go back to sleep?” Techno offered.

“That sounds fantastic.” She agreed and Techno came back to the bed.

He laid down and she nuzzled into his side. Running his hand through her hair much like he did last night. They were both content as Techno rolled his eyes at the voices changing their tune and calling him a simp.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Awesamdude

Sam was a pretty light sleeper, so he wasn’t surprised that he woke up to (Y/N)’s movements as she got up first.

“Hey.” He greeted her before she freaked out.

Didn’t work, she jumped and would have fallen off the bed if not for Sam’s faster reflexes. He caught her arm and pulled her to sit on the bed.

“How…What are you doing in here?” She questioned in surprise, wincing as she held her head.

“Hang on, I’ll get you a potion and I’ll explain it to you,” Sam told her before getting up.

He went to his bag, taking out a spare health potion. Handing it over to the woman, she took a small drink of it to help relieve some of the pain. It wouldn’t take it all away but it would be enough to at least function in the morning light.

“Usually, you just drop me off if I have too much to drink, what happened?” She inquired.

“Well, what do you remember?” He asked her in turn as he sat back on the bed.

“I don’t know, it’s kinda fuzzy.” She muttered as she handed the potion back and he put it down on the floor. “I remember sharing a few with Ant then I think we started a few games?”

“Yeah, that’s how the party started. Ant convinced you to yell swears across the room to annoy Bad once you were both pretty drunk but I stopped you after that. After that, you were actually pretty clingy.” He teased.

“Bull.” (Y/N) tried to call his bluff. “You always whine about how I won’t listen to you when I’ve had too many.”

“Yeah, that’s the usual case, that wasn’t last night.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, how do you explain me being here instead of my own house?”

“Well—I—I was just crazy drunk and you wanted to keep an eye on me.” (Y/N) blushed slightly in embarrassment.

She couldn’t believe in her drunk state that she clung to the best friend she had started to develop a crush on.

“It wasn’t bad though,” Sam assured her with a grin. “You called me super smart and a great fighter after all.”

(Y/N) groaned as she put her face in her hands. “Bet that boosted your ego.”

He shrugged. “You also said how it would be nice to stay with me forever.”

“What were we doing?!” (Y/N) threw up her arms.

“We were just taking you home.” He laughed.

“God, I’m never getting drunk again.” She muttered.

“There was one more thing,” Sam told her and she fell back on her bed.

“What did I say?” She huffed.

“Well, I’d like if I could look at you when I told you.” He said, all his teasing gone.

He felt a spike of nervousness as she sighed while sitting back up. Hopefully, she’d repeat what she said last night.

“What?” She asked, meeting his eyes.

“You…You said you loved me.”

She went bright red as he could feel himself getting warmer.

“I’m so not drinking ever again.” She ducked her head.

“…did you mean it?”

She fiddled with her hands before nodding. “I do love you. You’re just…so fantastic.”

He smiled widely as he went over, crouching down, (Y/N) glancing at him.

“Well good, because I love you too.”

She hugged him and he laughed hugging her back.

“You should probably rest up and I need to go take care of Fran,” Sam told her, smiling into the top of her head as he was so tall. “But I’ll come back later and we’ll go on a date?”

She nodded, grinning into his chest.

He was so happy she truly meant it.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #wilbur soot x reader #awesamdude x reader #technoblade x reader

543 notes · View notes

there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years ago

Text

Play Pretend

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: ~4170

Warnings: I don’t think there are any? Some language. Egregious amounts of fluff. A blanket fort and a Star Trek onesie. Gratuitous descriptions of Spencer Reid’s bone structure, because apparently I can’t help myself.

A/N: For the “treat yo’ self” square on my @cmbingo card, and also for @railmereid‘s 2k challenge! Prompt for the latter is bolded.

It’s been a godawful case, and in the BAU, that’s saying something. At least nobody ended up in the hospital this time? But as you all troop onto the jet in a straggly line of wrinkled clothes and puffy eyes, that’s about the brightest spot you can find in this whole fucking week.

As you get settled, though, Hotch clears his throat. “Your attention, please. We’re taking a long weekend, Strauss’s orders.”

“Oh thank god,” you mutter under your breath.

“Once we get back and grab our things, you are not to return to the office for a full seventy-two hours.” Hotch looks sternly (well, even more sternly) at Spencer, who’s on the couch next to you, curling up for a nap. “Understood? And you are not allowed to take case files home, Reid. I mean it this time.”

“Understood,” he says grouchily. You can’t help but laugh at the pout on his face.

“Seriously?” you ask.

He shrugs, lips quirking up like he does actually realize what a ridiculous human being he is. “I have many talents, but ‘taking it easy’ is not one of them.” He does the air quotes, even.

“All those PhDs and you never got a degree in relaxation?”

“That’s not—” He realizes you’re teasing and grins. “No. No I did not. I just… never really know what to do with myself, I guess?”

“Shocking.”

“What are you going to do, then?”

“I am going to have a treat yo’ self day,” you declare proudly.

“A what?”

“You know, like in Parks and Rec?” He gives you a blank look. “No, you totally don’t know. Of course you don’t. But there’s this one episode where two of the characters have a ‘treat yo’ self’ day, and they go shopping and get, like, really self-indulgent things that they wouldn’t ordinarily buy themselves.”

He frowns. “You’re going shopping all weekend? You’ve never struck me as a particularly materialistic person.”

“Fuck, no. It’s more about indulging in experiences. Self-care. Things that make me feel relaxed. Just… whatever makes me happy.”

“Like what?” He still has this totally puzzled look on his face, with his nose wrinkled up. It’s so much more endearing than it has any right to be.

“I like painting. I’m not good at it, but I like it, so I’m gonna get some new paints and a big canvas and make a mess, because it makes me happy.”

“Huh.”

“What about you, then? What do you do to relax?”

“That’s… a good question, honestly.”

“Well, what’s your idea of a perfect day?”

Maybe it shouldn’t surprise you that self-care is a foreign concept to him. You wait patiently as he overthinks it.

“Perfect seems unrealistic,” he concludes wryly.

“So, like, remember when you were a kid and you walked into a really awesome toy store?” you prompt. “Just feeling that sort of carefree, giddy kind of happy?”

“Not really.” He shrugs.

“What did make you feel like that, though?” you ask. “When you were younger? There had to be something.”

“I think I just — I didn’t do much normal kid stuff.” He lets out a huff of a laugh and runs his hands through his messy curls, suddenly self-conscious. “Didn’t get to play pretend, or… I don’t know. Didn’t have time.”

“Right,” you say softly. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

You nod, throat suddenly tight. “Yeah. Get some sleep, Spencer. Sweet dreams.”

He gives you a tired half-smile and tugs his blanket up to his chin, tucking his hands under his cheek, and the dark hollows under his eyes are hidden by his long lashes as he falls asleep almost immediately. You need to rest too, but it takes you a while; you sneak a glance at him every so often, feeling that twist under your breastbone that happens all too often when you’re around Spencer.

By the time the jet lands, though, you have a plan.

* * * * *

You second-guess your plan approximately a thousand times on your way over to Spencer’s the next morning. When you get to his door, you almost convince yourself to walk away before you manage to knock; is this totally presumptuous? Is Spencer going to think you’re ridiculous? Is the whole thing just plain stupid?

Then again, you were stupid enough to fall for Spencer in the first place, so. What’s another stupid decision on top of that whole mess?

When he opens the door, he’s wearing pajama pants, a t-shirt, and a phenomenally hideous bathrobe, and he’s all messy-haired and sleepy-eyed, and for a moment you’re panicking because oh shit I woke him up. It’s almost noon, to be fair, but he did have some serious sleep to catch up on. Then you notice the coffee mug in his hand, and after a moment of relief, that morphs into more of a oh shit he’s so fucking beautiful type of panic.

You’re used to that, though.

Then you realize he’s staring at you, smiling but puzzled, and you haven’t explained yourself. Oops.

“Um. Trick or treat yourself day?” you blurt out, hoisting your shopping bags and giggling at your own lame joke. “I… brought you something. Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you — I should’ve texted, I just—”

“You’re always a good surprise,” Spencer says shyly, and then seems to shake himself. “Come in. Sorry. Coffee?”

“Please.”

You set down your shopping bags and follow him to the kitchen, where he fixes you a mug of your own — exactly how you like it, because of course he remembers. Then he takes a couple deep gulps of his own sugar-sludge and tops it up, and by the time you go back out to the living room, he’s starting to look vaguely awake.

“What’s all this about?” he finally asks, head cocked to look curiously at the bags.

“Well,” you start slowly. Now that you have to say it out loud, it sounds even more stupid. “I was thinking a treat yourself day would be a lot more fun with company, and it seems like… maybe you’re overdue for some of that? For… self-indulgence, and just, like, enjoying yourself without worrying. And you deserve it. So. You wanna?”

His eyes are soft and bright, oddly vulnerable, and a smile spreads slowly across his face, twitchy at the edges like he’s not sure he’s allowed to smile yet.

“Really? I don’t know what to do, though.”

“Well, I have some ideas about that. But first, you gotta make a deal with me.” The way he’s beaming makes you feel a whole lot more confident as you tell him, very seriously, “This is the sacred covenant of treat yourself day. You have to solemnly swear to do whatever you want. Anything you can dream up. Indulge every whim. Take an oath to give in to every one of your silly, random, frivolous desires, without any form of self-denial or doubt. Can you do that, Spencer?”

“I can try,” he says, and his voice cracks. It’s like he can’t shape the words, with the way his smile has taken over his entire face.

“Okay, good enough. And… I have a few ideas.”

“Like what?”

You shrug. “Like… some things I thought maybe you didn’t get to do as a kid? Here, let me—”

You rummage until you find what you were looking for, and then you turn around, holding it out like an offering. Spencer’s mouth drops open.

“Is that a Captain Kirk costume?” he asks squeakily.

“It’s a Captain Kirk onesie,” you correct. “And it’s for you.”

“Holy—”

He shucks the bathrobe and sets down his coffee hastily, and he’s zipping the onesie up before you can say “Beam me up,” looking down at himself with this joy on his face, totally giddy in a way you’ve never seen him before, and holy hell, even if he hates the rest of your ideas, this will be one hundred fifty percent worth it for the memory of that smile on Spencer’s face.

“I have one too,” you admit, and pull your Chewbacca onesie out of your backpack. Once you’re both appropriately attired, you tell him, “Next order of business is cartoons.”

“I don’t actually have TV?” he says apologetically. “I mean, I have a TV, but it’s only for —”

You grin. “I came prepared, though!”

Spencer’s the only person you know who still has a VHS player, but you’ve been holding onto some things you rescued from your parents’ attic a while back; you find your VHS of Tom & Jerry cartoons and wave it at him triumphantly.

“I’ve never watched that before.” He examines the cover, bemused.

“It’s essential viewing.”

“Okay,” he says slowly.

While he performs whatever arcane ritual makes his ancient TV work (there’s like a rain dance and an animal sacrifice involved, you’re pretty sure) you settle on the couch, nesting in all the blankets and sipping your coffee contentedly. Spencer presses play and sits down next to you, but you can feel his uncertainty; he’s holding himself stiffly, and he keeps sneaking glances at you.

“Spit it out,” you tell him, a few minutes in. “If you hate it, you can just say so, Spence. I won’t take it personally.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not that! I just — is this really how you want to spend your Saturday?”

“What do you mean?” You have a Chewbacca onesie, a perfect cup of coffee, and great company; you’re not entirely sure how this could get any better.

“Doing nothing,” he mumbles. “This is… there are so many things you could be doing. Don’t you have a whole list of things you wanted to do? But instead… I don’t know. You’re here. With me.”

Sometimes you want to scream until he realizes how awesome he is, but the screaming is probably not the best way to convey that particular message.

Instead, you keep your voice very quiet as you tell him, “There is absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”

It’s a little too true. Your cheeks burn as you turn back to the TV, trying not to dwell on the way you can see him watching you in your peripheral vision.

“Okay,” he says hoarsely. He settles himself more comfortably into the blanket nest, and before long, he’s giggling along with you.

You watch in peaceful silence for a little while, but at some point, Spencer’s stomach growls, and you pause the tape to make food — chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream, as per his verdict on “ultimate treat food.” As it turns out, he knows a lot about the science of cooking, but not a whole lot about the actual practice, so he sits cross-legged in a chair and directs you to various cabinets as you measure and mix and whisk. When you get the batter poured out on the griddle, he’s pattering on about the chemical differences between baking soda and baking powder.

He looks utterly dismayed when the first chocolate chip hits his forehead. Turns out his lack of hand-eye coordination applies to mouth-eye coordination too, and the floor is littered with semi-sweet projectiles before he actually catches one, but he’s laughing, so you really can’t bring yourself to care.

The pancakes are a total success. When you’re both stuffed and sugar-high, you grab the syrupy plates and bring them to the sink for a quick rinse.

“You don’t have to,” Spencer protests. You ignore him. His next words are much softer, scratchy and hoarse: “Thank you. I don’t — just — thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” you say briskly. Then you turn around, and you freeze, because he’s a whole lot closer than you thought he was; he’s right there, close enough that you could reach out and run your fingers through his hair, or trace the sharp line of his jaw.

He has a tiny streak of whipped cream at the corner of his mouth, right where his lips curl up as he smiles, and for a second you can barely breathe with how much you want to stand up on your tiptoes and see if he tastes as sweet as he looks.

For a second he looks like he wants you to. He’s frozen too, for a moment, and you can hear his breath catch, but then he scoops you up in a hug, squeezing tight. And yeah, it’s just friendly, but it’s a hug from Spencer, and that happens rarely enough that it feels like a treat of its own, so you go with it, forehead pressed to his shoulder, heart racing.

When he releases you, you tell yourself you’re not disappointed.

“Right,” you say, bossy to cover how flustered you feel. “Back to business.”

“I think I need more practice sitting still,” Spencer confesses, following you back out to the couch. “It feels weird just… not doing anything.”

You pause, deliberating. “Well, we could keep our hands busy?”

With a quick rummage, you produce paint and an extra large pad of paper, holding them up for Spencer’s inspection. He frowns.

“I don’t have any paintbrushes.”

“They’re finger paints,” you say, grinning, and he laughs.

“Of course they are.”

You set everything up on the coffee table while Spencer presses play, and the two of you sit down on the floor, side by side. Spencer looks down at his onesie, then at the paint, frowning.

“It’s all washable, Spencer.”

“Still,” he mumbles. “I don’t want to take it off, but —”

He unzips the onesie halfway, peeling the arms off and letting the fabric bunch up around his waist.

“There we go, putting that genius brain to work,” you tease, but you’re touched that he cares enough about your present to worry about stains.

It’s hard to ignore how close you’re sitting. You do your best, keeping your eyes on either the TV or your masterpiece of Abstract Expressionism, but Spencer’s knee is pressed to yours, a constant warm pressure, and your hands keep brushing as you both reach for containers of paint, and you can smell him, like vanilla and maybe old books. The whole thing has you feeling flushed.

Other than that, though, it’s comfortable. It’s always been easy to talk to Spencer, which makes sense considering how much he knows about every subject imaginable, but it surprises you sometimes how easy it is not to talk to him, too. Silence isn’t awkward, with him. Neither of you say anything for the next hour or so. You just giggle at the TV and paint, wordless and companionable, and it’s the happiest you’ve felt in… longer than you care to admit.

Life is rarely perfect, especially not in your line of work, but this? This is pretty close.

As the credits start to play, you stretch, and then you look at his paper. It takes you a second to recognize yourself, but the likeness is unmistakable. Spencer’s got the exact angle of your eyebrow when you’re looking at him skeptically — apparently you do that often enough that he’s memorized the expression. He somehow managed to capture your smile, the curve of your lips, all in tiny delicate pinky-strokes of purple and turquoise… trust Dr. Spencer Reid to bring that level of precision to finger-painting, and oh god you are not going to think about his fingers any more.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” you manage. You clear your throat. “Yeah, I really do.”

Then he makes it worse by rubbing the side of his neck, bashful and self-conscious, smearing blue-green paint from his collarbone to the sharp line of his jaw, and he’s so busy smiling at you that he doesn’t seem to notice. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple dips, shifting a streak of color, making it flicker. It’s such a silly thing, but it draws your attention to his skin — makes you want to touch. Worst of all, it reminds you that he’s already art, that the shape of him, the delicate precise way he’s put together, is more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen in a museum.

It reminds you that you want some things you can never, ever have.

“You’ve got — um,” you say, gesturing helplessly. He blinks at you, slow like he’s coming out of a trance, and tucks his hair behind his ear, smearing more paint there before he remembers. You giggle, sharp and nervous, and it breaks the tension all at once. Spencer laughs too, rolling his eyes at himself. You get up clumsily to go grab a wet paper towel from the kitchen.

The moment is gone, but your heart is still racing.

“What’s next?” Spencer asks softly, once you’re both cleaned up.

He missed a tiny spot; there’s a blue smudge right at the corner of his jaw, and you want to touch it, feel it under your fingertips, see if the skin is as soft as it looks, right there where the bone stretches it thin.

“Blanket fort,” you blurt out, before you can do anything embarrassing.

His eyes light up.

It really shouldn’t surprise you that Spencer and his engineering PhD make quick work of a pile of sheets and clothespins. You’re pretty sure that he could revolutionize the entire field of blanket fort construction, if left to his own devices, but you keep poking him when he gets lost in his head or starts muttering calculations to himself. The point is having fun.

The end result is a lot more Frank Lloyd Wright than any of your childhood creations, but Spencer looks absolutely gleeful, so. It’s the spirit of the thing.

“One more thing,” you say. “Do you have any Christmas lights?”

Spencer frowns. “I don’t — oh! Wait!”

He runs to the closet, and he ends up halfway inside the closet, digging around on his hands and knees. You’re about to make a crack about Narnia when he comes out, holding up a box with a triumphant smile.

You read the label: “Halloween decorations 3 of 4.”

Because of course Spencer Reid has Halloween lights. He pulls out several long ropes of them; a couple are shaped like tiny skulls, one is strung with Jack-o-Lanterns, and two could pass as Christmas lights if they weren’t orange and purple. You help him detangle the knot of them and drape them over and through your fort, and when you turn out the normal lights and draw his heavy curtains, the whole thing glows in patches of orange and purple and white.

“After you,” you tell Spencer, and he crawls in without any more prompting.

There’s more than enough room to sit up, but Spencer is lying down on his back in the nest of blankets and pillows that you’d relocated from the couch. He’s staring up at the “ceiling” in silence, eyes glittering with some unreadable expression where they catch the twinkling shards of light. You make yourself comfortable next to him, looking up and wondering what he’s seeing.

“I always wondered what the appeal was,” he whispers. “Of blanket forts. And… childhood in general, I guess.”

“You grew up pretty fast, huh?” you say quietly.

“Yeah. And I never — I feel like most of the team doesn’t take me seriously sometimes. Like I’m still a kid to them. I always feel like I have to prove myself.”

Your instinct is to deny it automatically, but you know what he means. They laugh him off for his quirks, for the way he gets excited about things and for the things he gets excited about. That’s what’s so incredible about him, though: that dichotomy of knowledge and curiosity, the breathless excitement when he makes a discovery.

“I liked pretending I had my own little world,” you tell him. “Blanket forts. Felt like I could actually shut all the bad things out.”

“Still feels like that,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Nothing wrong with acting like a child, sometimes. We need that. Even if it’s just pretend.”

“I think I get it now.”

“Hmm?”

He’s silent for a long moment before he says, “In here, everything’s perfect.”

“Or we can pretend it is.”

You turn your head to find Spencer looking at you, and he doesn’t look away when your eyes meet. You barely want to blink for fear of breaking whatever spell you’re under.

There’s something raw and earnest and almost scared shining all over his face, like you’re catching a glimpse of the child he used to be, before the world taught him to put on a brave face and keep his most intense feelings to himself. It makes you feel shaky in ways you were really not prepared for.

There’s a heavy moment of silence. You’re painfully aware of how loud your breathing sounds.

It’s a hell of a thing, to have his focus like this. You fell in love with him watching him work; you know how intensely he can devote himself to a task, to a puzzle, to a map… and every so often, when the two of you talk, he focuses all that brilliance on you, and he listens so completely that you feel his attention like a spotlight.

That’s when he usually looks away, dropping his gaze like it’s something to be embarrassed about, because too many people have told him to stop staring.

He’s not looking away now. He turns onto his side to completely face you, curling up in that sweetly childish way with his hands between his cheek and the pillow, and you mirror him.

“Feels like we’re alone.”

He’s right; there are no distractions, no excuses to be made, no interruptions. It’s just the two of you, and it’s terrifying.

“Feels safe,” you whisper, because that’s true too. Your heart is racing, and it’s like you can hear your pulse in your ears, but it’s the quietest sort of panic you’ve ever felt. “I think that was exactly what I wanted, after the last couple weeks. To get away. To feel safe.”

There’s an orange light throwing most of his face into shadow, but you can see the corner of his mouth a little too clearly. You’re maybe a foot apart. It would be so easy —

“We don’t get that often.” His voice is barely more than a breath.

“Safety?”

“That too, but —” His breath hitches, and he clears his throat. “What we want. I don’t usually get what I want, but this was — this was very close to perfect.”

“Yeah, well, when is life ever perfect?” You manage a smile. “What would make it perfect? If you could have anything.”

“It’s not something I can have, though.”

“So pretend. It’s just us, and there are no rules today. What would it be?”

He bites his lip. “I don’t think —”

“For once in your life, Spencer, stop overthinking it,” you half-laugh, and then he’s propping himself up on one elbow, shifting forward, leaning closer, close close close until he’s all you can see, and —

He kisses you.

It’s the most gentle, feather-light brush of a kiss you’ve ever felt, barely more than a graze of his parted lips over yours. It’s there, and then it’s gone again before you can even begin to process the sensation.

As your eyes flutter open you can already see the fear setting in, dark intense gaze fixed on you as he inhales sharply.

You’re still trying to remember how to breathe; you’re too stunned to react beyond blinking at him.

“I’m sorry. Can we just —” He shakes his head, hand over his mouth like he’s trying to hold onto the kiss. “Do you think we could pretend — can we pretend I didn’t do that? I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t want to pretend,” you say shakily.

He stares.

This doesn’t seem real. It’s such a strange moment that you might as well be trapped in a Dali canvas. There’s fingerpaint on his face, and he’s wearing a Captain Kirk command uniform onesie, and there’s a tiny Jack-o-Lantern glowing over his head. If you’d imagined the “perfect” moment, this would not be it.

But you reach out, running your fingertips over the dark smudge of paint on his jaw, and the skin is hot and smooth. He shivers at the touch. It’s real.

“Spencer?” Your throat is tight, but you manage a choked, “I want you to kiss me again.”

He does, with a careful hand cupped to your cheek and a smile curling his lips when they meet yours. You run your fingers through his hair, and you both laugh when they catch on dried paint.

“Perfect,” he whispers.

It really is.

#renswritingchallenge #cmbingo21 #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #cm fic #criminal minds #spencer reid

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natashas-widows · 3 years ago

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101 fluffy prompts

send me your prompt and the person you want it to be with.

prompt credits to : @otppromptlists

001 "You're really soft."

002 "You smell nice."

003 "I'm here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses."

004 "Is it possible to love too much?"

005 "I don't wanna get up-- you're comfy."

006 "I will always be there protect you."

007 "I'm cold. Come closer."

008 "I love you a lot, but please stop trying to cook me dinner, you suck.”

009 "The stars look especially lovely tonight."

010 "I've never seen such gorgeous eyes before."

011 "May I have this dance?"

012 "I can't stop thinking about you."

013 "You'll never feel alone with me by your side."

014 "Let's get to know each other over dinner."

015 "All I want is you."

016 "I could never leave you, I love you too much!"

017 "A fairytale with a happy ending always brings a smile to my face."

018 "I want to hear you sing."

019 "I don't think anyone could ever be as lovely as you."

020 "You look incredible in that."

021 "He/She's quite stunning, isn't he/she?"

022 "Sometimes I just can't control myself when around you."

023 "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

024 "I think I'm in love."

025 "I’d like it if you stayed.

026 "People are jerks, but not you."

027 "I'll share the blankets with you."

028 "I have never felt this way about anyone."

029 "I want this to never end..."

030 "Can I kiss you?"

LIVING TOGETHER

031 "I waxed the floors, grab your fluffy socks."

032 "Who changed the thermostat settings? I’m freezing to death."

033 "Can we just watch a movie and fall asleep on the couch?"

034 "You can put your cold feet on me."

035 "Your stray red item turned my whites pink."

036 "A thunderstorm is rolling through town and you’re scared of lightening/thunder so I’ll protect you."

037 "There was a power outage and now we have to have dinner by candlelight."

038 "Rock Paper Scissors to see who has to go talk to the neighbors upstairs for being too loud."

039 "I just came home to you crying while watching a movie, please tell me what’s going on."

040 "Our AC is out and it’s the middle of the summer."

041 "You found me crying on the kitchen floor in the middle of the night surrounded by a shattered jelly jar."

042 "My parents are coming over in 10 minutes so please put some clothes on"

043 "We’re repainting the apartment and going to the hardware store together to pick out color swatches."

044 "IF YOU USE UP ALL THE HOT WATER ONE MORE TIME IM GOING TO BAN YOU TO THE COUCH FOR A MONTH."

045 "We’re watching Toy Story 3 and we can’t stop crying."

WEDDINGS/PROPOSALS

046 "I caught the bouquet"

047 "My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years failing to get over them."

048 "We accidentally got married in Vegas oops"

049 "I’m really drunk, please help me get safely out of the way so I don’t ruin our friend’s wedding."

050 "I planned out this super romantic proposal and you just ruined it by beating me to whole proposing thing."

051 "I wasn’t planning on asking you, but it appeared to me that life is short. Will you marry me? "

052 "If you shove cake in my face this will be the worst wedding night of your life."

053 "Do you take this man/woman to be your lawfully wedded husband/wife? "

054 "May I have this dance, wife/husband? "

055 "You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m so happy I can finally call you my wife/husband."

056 "I jokingly told you that the only way I’d marry you was if you did this weird outlandish thing, and you actually did it, and I’m kind of charmed."

057 "This is probably a bad time, but marry me?"

MARRIED LIFE

058 "We’ve become the clingy newlyweds you always complained about. "

059 "Your ‘miracle hangover cure’ couldn’t possibly beat mine."

060 "I know you haven’t had the best experience with dogs in the past but look at its face please please can we keep it?"

061 "I wanted to surprise you for our anniversary, but everything that could go wrong, did go wrong."

062 "I beat you at Mario Kart and now you're banishing me to the couch for the night?”

063 "I surprised you with tickets to see our favorite band… WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU SURPRISED ME WITH TICKETS TO SEE THEM TOO?"

064 "I know we had a big fight but we still need to decorate the house for the holidays."

065 "Oh! Hey! Could you come and taste this to see if it's okay?"

066 "We’re arguing over book versus movie."

067 "I came home to a Nerf gun on the front porch and a note that says ‘Here is your weapon. I have one too. Loser cooks dinner. Good luck. xo’"

068 "We’ve been celebrating our wedding anniversary on the wrong day for the past nine years."

069 "You had a business trip and I missed you so much that I kind of tore up the house in your absence like a dog with separation anxiety… sorry?"

070 "We both have nowhere else to be so we get to spend our rare day off at home."

PREGNANCY

071 "I bet it’s a girl/boy."

072 "Do you think it’s possible that I…might be… pregnant? "

073 "I thought I was pregnant but the test must have been wrong. I’m not. "

074 "You’re lucky I’m pregnant!"

075 "Can you help me up, your child is pretty heavy."

076 "I could really use a foot rub right now."

077 "Your dad is really excited to meet you soon, it’s driving me crazy."

078 "Do you wanna know the sex of the baby?"

079 "The baby’s kicks are keeping me up at night."

080 "Did you feel that?"

081 "I can’t fit into my favorite dress anymore. "

082 "OH MY GOD I’M GOING INTO LABOR. WHAT DO WE DO NOW?!

083 "I can’t be pregnant… or….OH MY GOD! "

084 "I think you might be pregnant.”

085 "It’s 2 am but you’re craving cake and we’re both up anyway so let’s bake in our underwear."

PARENTING

086 "I knew it was a mistake to get the twins matching clothes."

087 "Sh…they’re asleep."

088 "I think someone had a little accident with the finger paint."

089 "Mondays are your diaper days."

090 "Our kid is totally the one who wanted to build a pillow fort, not me."

091 "Ooh…someone’s got a tummy ache."

092 "Are you sure you don’t want me to drop them off myself? I don’t think you could handle seeing them off alone."

093 "I told you we should have just gotten that German Shepherd puppy."

094 "What do you think for their punishment? Grounding? No video games? No going out for a week?"

095 "Mm…your kid before five in the morning."

096 "Come on now, I think you’re being too harsh. He/she’s just a kid. Remember all of the stupid things we used to do when we were their age?"

097 "So, how should we break the news that they’re going to have a new baby brother or sister?"

098 "I think we should have another."

099 "Why wasn’t I invited to your wedding?"

100 "Okay fine, one more story, but then you really have to go to bed."

101 "…They just grow up so fast."

#natasha romanoff series #chris evans x reader fluff #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #marvel smut #yelena belova smut #chris evans headcanon #daddy!sebastian #mommy!natasha #mommy wanda #marvel fluff #wanda maximoff smut #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader

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quickspinner · 3 years ago

Text

Oops - Part 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3

Summary: A little too much alcohol, a drunken hookup, it happens all the time, right? Marinette didn't mean to drink so much, and she didn't mean to wake up in a stranger's bed, but she did, and now this morning isn't going at all the way she expected. When Luka asks to see her again, she can't think of a good reason to say no...and the one night she never meant to have turns out to be the beginning of something she never could have anticipated.

Alya thinks its hysterical--only Marinette could take home a one night stand and end up with a date. But when the one night stand turns into a series of hookups, Alya's starting to get concerned. Clearly it's up to her to rein Marinette in before the girl gets seriously hurt.

Rating: M - this is a little spicier than my usual fare but not really explicit? There’s a lot of off screen sex and reference to sexy things and adult activities, some drinking (obviously), cursing/foul language.

Credit to my tumblr followers for this one, because one day I went "hey, you guys want to see some bits from the folder of fics I'm never going to finish?" and one of the bits I posted was the beginning of this story, and people liked it more than I was expecting, and then it was "well, you know, I did think about doing blahblah" and "I'd sure love to see that!" and the next thing you know I've added five thousand words with no sign of stopping. In Marinette’s words: Oops. So, with much love to my followers and readers across platforms, here's the fic I never intended to finish, and I hope you enjoy it!

I'm splitting it into two chapters but they'll both be uploaded within a few minutes, so if you finish the first part and the second one isn't posted yet, just wait a little and try back. Also, much love to @livrever for talking me down off the ledge and beta reading this one.

Marinette woke up with a mouth that felt like cotton and a pounding headache. She groaned, and pressed her face into the pillow. It...smelled funny. Not bad, just...not like home.

Oh. Because she hadn’t gone home last night. At least, not to her home.

“Are you shitting me right now?”

Marinette jumped, and sat up, clutching the sheets to her still-naked body. Her head reeled and she whimpered as she pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. The door to the bedroom was cracked and she could see a sliver of light beyond it that blinked in and out. It seemed her...friend, was pacing in the other room, and from the sound of it, he wasn’t very happy.

“—crosses a line, Jean. What? No, that’s not the point, Jean, you got me hammered without my consent! How can you not see the problem here? No, you know what, my head is killing me and I’m sick of yelling at you, obviously this can’t be fixed. As of right now, we are no longer friends. Don’t call me, don’t talk to me, if you see me coming just walk the other way. I’m done with you.”

There was a thump and a sigh and an emphatic “Fuck.”

Marinette just sat there, holding the sheet over her chest, and blinked, trying to figure out what she should do and think through the fog in her brain. She didn’t exactly have a whole lot of experience in these situations. Was she supposed to just…

Before she could form any ideas, he came in with a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers. He had a pair of tattered but well-fitting jeans on with patterned boxers peeking out from the waistband, but no shirt, and there was a lot of muscle and bare skin on display and oh God he had sex hair, and it was her hands that had done it. Marinette swallowed and twisted her fingers tighter in the sheets, suddenly feeling a bit lightheaded.

“Hi,” he said gently. “I’m Luka, in case you don’t remember. Sorry if I woke you. How are you feeling? I mean, hung over, obviously, but on a scale of just let me die to I might conceivably want to live to tomorrow …” He gave her a smile that perhaps wasn’t entirely confident, and Marinette couldn’t help a small smile back.

“I think I’m not quite up to dancing to the metal band playing in my head, but pretty far from oh God where’s the bathroom, so I’ll take it, all things considered.” She took the glass of water he offered and he opened the aspirin bottle and shook a couple out into her palm. That was sweet, she thought. At least he wasn’t just tossing her clothes at her and kicking her out. How could she have let herself end up in a position like this?

Luka sat on the edge of the bed and watched her take the pills. “Man, you’re really gorgeous. I thought at least some of it would be the booze, but—“ He looked away, clearing his throat. “Lucky me.”

Marinette’s face burned. “Thanks,” she said softly, not sure what else to say. At least he was nice, she thought. At least she hadn’t slept with a jerk. And he’d certainly been...considerate. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t enjoyed herself, just...

“How much do you remember about last night?” he asked. His voice was rough, but he kept it soft. “I’m sorry for asking but I was way more drunk last night than I ever let myself get and I don’t think I blacked out but some things are...spotty.”

“Most of it, I think,” Marinette flashed him an embarrassed smile. “The good parts for sure. The details and...transitions, I guess, are a little hazy. I don’t remember how we got here from the club, for example.”

“But you remember being here, with me.” His eyes fell to her neck and shoulders and he winced. “Man I really marked you up, I’m sorry. I hope that’s not going to get you in trouble.” His eyes widened slightly. “Please tell me you aren’t married.”

“No,” she yelped. “No, I’m not married. Totally single.” She put her face in her hand. “Absolutely, devastatingly, recently single.”

Luka let out a sigh of relief and gave her a sympathetic smile. “Bad breakup?”

She sighed. “Very. Bad breakup, bad best friend applying bad breakup logic that lands me my very first one night stand. Yay me.”

“Um, I’m honored?” Luka grinned sheepishly. “Although, I mean...it doesn’t have to be. Just the one night, I mean. Not that—” He cleared his throat and looked away. “Even as drunk as I was, I know I had a lot of fun last night.” He rubbed his hand through his hair. “And even before I got too drunk to function I wanted to get your number.” He rolled his eyes. “Apparently one of my so-called friends decided I needed a little extra liquid courage.”

“I wish I had an excuse,” Marinette muttered, shoulders curling inward. “I just...didn’t want to be sad anymore.” She frowned as what he’d said and the conversation she’d overheard connected in her brain. “Are you...okay?”

“I’m pissed off,” Luka huffed, and then smiled again. “But I’m fine. I didn’t do— much I wouldn’t have done anyway. Just, not necessarily in that order, or that soon. As long as you’re okay, I’m okay.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I’m...not sure,” Marinette sighed, adjusting her grip on the sheet she held to her chest. “I don’t know how I feel. I definitely did some things I wouldn’t have done sober. You, specifically,” she joked weakly. “Not that you aren’t—not that I didn’t—“

“I get it,” he chuckled.

“But...I’m on birth control, and…” she turned and craned her neck to look at the spilled box and empty wrappers on the nightstand. “We used protection, and…” she looked at Luka, worrying her lip.

“I’m clean,” he supplied.

“Me too,” she whispered, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “And you’re hot and you seem nice and it’s not like it didn’t feel good, and I definitely wasn’t sad for a while, so…” She shrugged. “I’m a little embarrassed but...I think I’m okay too.”

“Well, no need to be embarrassed with me,” Luka grinned. “I’m definitely not judging.”

They sat smiling at each other for a moment, and then Luka seemed to remember something, because he winced. “Umm...about your dress,” he coughed. “I am so, so sorry but it seems drunk me was kinda impatient and your dress is in pieces on my living room floor.”

Marinette just blinked at him for a moment...and then she started to laugh. Luka grinned, and then started to chuckle along with her. She laughed harder and grabbed her head. “Ow, ow, oh my God.” Without thinking she leaned forward to drop her head on Luka’s shoulder.

He stiffened up for a second, but then relaxed, and one of his hands slipped into her hair. His fingers began to rub in small circles.

“Mmm, that’s good,” she sighed, and felt Luka’s chuckle.

“Well that sounds familiar,” he said, his voice going a little deeper. Marinette shivered. She felt him swallow, and his face dipped slightly towards her. “I like your perfume,” he said, and had to clear his throat again. Marinette’s face warmed.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. His fingers continued to rub her aching head, and the pain actually seemed to be receding a bit, though whether from the massage or the painkillers he’d given her, she wasn’t sure.

She should sit up. He was a stranger, after all, and just because they’d—she wasn’t exactly experienced at this kind of thing but this wasn’t really fitting in with what she imagined a morning after to be like. She probably looked weird, leaning on him like...like they were a couple or something, and—

Luka’s hands shifted and began to comb gently, slowly through her hair, and Marinette let out a small moan. She felt his breath hitch and bit her lip, embarrassed. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“What for?” he asked, but there was a rough edge to his voice that—she was being silly though, he’d performed last night, and then they’d done all that drinking, and...and those other things, and it was no wonder if his voice was—

That voice was doing things to her, though, and reminding her of—things, and this time it was her breath that caught as the fingers that had been moving through her hair kept going down this time, sliding along her spine, raising goosebumps and reminding her that she was still very much naked.

“Do you, um,” Luka began, in the exact same deep tones that had made her leave the club with him last night. “Do you have anywhere you need to be right now?”

His fingers stilled, resting at the small of her back, and Marinette couldn’t see his face since hers was still buried in his shoulder. It was hard to think when he was so warm, and her nose was brushing his collarbone, and she’d hardly have to move to press her lips against his smooth skin.

She barely knew him. But...well...that hadn’t stopped her last night, so...

Marinette took a deep breath, and lifted her head, sitting back slightly to look at him. His breathing was steady as he looked back at her, almost too steady, but his eyes were dark.

“No,” she managed, barely above a whisper.

Luka’s hands moved up her back to trail up and down her arms. “Then, do you want to stay for a while longer?” They were swaying towards each other. “Maybe…” They were kissing before he could finish the thought. Marinette put her arms around his neck automatically, but as his arms went around her, pulling her closer, she dropped her hands back down again to rub over his broad, firm shoulders.

“Again?” he managed to get out between the fevered kisses, and Marinette made an affirmative noise, but he didn’t move until she broke away long enough to gasp, “Yes.”

He was pulling away the sheet between them even as he wrapped one arm around her and dragged her more fully onto the bed, settling her below him with surprising gentleness. Okay, that was hot, Marinette decided, burying her fingers in his already-messy hair as he began retracing the path he’d marked along her neck last night. Last night had been a really, really stupid decision, but this? As he pulled back to look at her, eyes clear and sharp instead of the hazy, unfocused gaze he’d had the night before, and brushed her hair tenderly back from her face before kissing her again, softly, and then deeply, Marinette began to feel that this morning was by far the best decision she’d made in a long time.

***

He should get up, Luka thought hazily, listening to his shower running. He should at least put his boxers back on or something. Change the sheets. Make some coffee. Something.

Instead he lay there, limp and relaxed, listening to the shower, and trying to hold on to this feeling of languid contentment.

God, he felt so good. Marinette was an amazing partner, sweet and so responsive, practically melting under his touch, firm and toned but soft in all the right places, and her little gasps and hums drove him crazy. She was bolder than he expected, an amazing kisser even drunk off her ass last night, and her mouth was so pretty and soft, and this morning...his body hummed with echoes of pleasure as he thought about it.

He rolled over, hugging his pillow, and grinned. He could still smell her perfume. That scent was engraved in his mind; it was one of the things that was clearest to him from the jumbled mix of memories of the night before. Luka remembered dancing with Marinette, dropping his head to hear something she was saying, and inhaling that scent, vivid despite the riot of smells that permeated the dance floor. He remembered being surrounded by it in the blur that was the cab ride home. He remembered gasping it in on the living room floor...did they fall? He thought he remembered one of them tripping over the doorstep. Even just now, with all his senses full of her, he had found traces of it on her skin, at her jaw and right behind her ear.

Luka shivered, buried his face in the pillow, and breathed deep.

He’d played a killer set last night, he’d gone home with a beautiful woman who was great in bed, had somehow managed not to humiliate himself despite his spiked drinks, and he had nowhere to be today. This morning would be perfect if he wasn’t dead certain that Marinette was going to leave and he would never see her again.

He really wanted to see her again.

Which was why he hadn’t wanted things to happen this way, damn it. He sighed, this time burying his face in the pillow to muffle his groan. He was supposed to flirt with her, get her number, ask her out, think with his brain and not his—hormones.

He was still going to kill his so-called friend. There was no justifying what Jean had done. If Victor had been working it never would have happened, but he’d called out for the night and apparently whoever had replaced him had been more than happy to make sure Luka’s drinks were stronger than advertised.

Bastards, both of them.

Even if it hadn’t turned out too badly.

Rock Giant blared out from his nightstand, and Luka flopped on his back and grabbed for his phone, forcing his eyes open as he answered it. “Hello?” he grumbled.

Silence. Luka frowned, and opened his mouth, but the person on the other end finally said, “I’m looking for Marinette.”

What? Luka frowned, and then pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it. It was pink.

Right. Because he’d found Marinette’s dead phone on the floor this morning when he got up, and he’d picked it up and set it in his charger, while he took his own to the living room to call and yell at Jean. Then he’d hurled his phone into the couch and left it there.

Shit.

“Ah,” he said, reaching up with his other hand to run his fingers through his hair. “She’s, um, in the shower. I can tell her to call you when she gets out.”

“Tell her to call Alya. If I don’t hear from her in fifteen minutes, I’m calling the police,” the girl on the other end of the line said coldly, and then hung up.

“Oops,” Luka muttered, setting Marinette’s phone back on the nightstand with a sigh. He hoped she wouldn’t be too mad at him. He probably should have come up with a more ambiguous excuse, something she could use for a cover if she didn’t want to admit to this Alya person that she’d gone home with a guy, but he wasn’t exactly thinking on his feet this morning.

He should get up. He sat up with a groan and swung his legs over to sit on the edge of the bed, scrubbing his hands over his face.

He registered that the shower was no longer running at about the same time that the door opened. Luka looked up and his jaw dropped as Marinette shuffled shyly into the room.

Shit, he’d seen her naked less than an hour ago, why was he still blushing? She was wearing two of his shirts, a t-shirt with one of his button-ups over it, open at the front and with the sleeves rolled up, cinched at her waist with her scarf from the night before. He couldn’t look away from that scarf for a moment, a pink, gauzy thing the sight of which brought Luka another vivid memory of pressing his face against her neck to inhale her perfume as he untied it. His eyes flicked up to the lovely pattern of bruises along her neck.

“Thanks for letting me raid your closet,” Marinette said, tugging slightly at the hem of his shirt. She had what looked like a pair of his black bike shorts on underneath. They were too big for her but damn did her legs look good anyway.

“No problem,” he coughed, and cleared his throat, reaching for the glass of water that was still sitting on his nightstand. Ugh, when did he become such a horn dog, drooling like this over a woman who had already more than satisfied him. Why did Jean have to decide to be a jerk last night, of all nights. Luka didn’t want things to end like this.

“Well, I should...If you maybe have a bag I can put my dress in? Then I can just go and get out of your hair.” Marinette couldn’t seem to be still, feet shuffling, hands fluttering, not looking at him.

I have to fix this, was the only thing he could think as he stared at her. I’ll regret it forever if she just walks out.

“Actually,” Luka said quickly, trying desperately not to sound too desperate, “I was going to ask if I could buy you breakfast.”

That stilled her. She froze, staring at him, and he forced himself to go on. “No pressure,” he shrugged, “But the café on the corner has a great all-day brunch menu. And I’d like to make it up to you, about the dress.” He grinned sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. Marinette’s eyes followed the motion and he thought he saw pink tint her cheeks. Well, at least it wasn’t just him. “Breakfast probably doesn’t begin to cover it, but it’s a start. If you don’t mind waiting for me to shower.”

Marinette was shuffling again. “O-okay,” she said. “I’ll, um...I’ll wait for you in the other room?”

Luka chuckled. “Sure.” He waited a moment, but when she just stood there, he tossed aside the sheet covering his lap and stood. “I’ll be quick,” he told her with a grin that he was extremely sure she didn’t see. She squeaked as he passed her and he had to smother his laughter, even as he closed the bathroom door behind him. She was too cute, and her ogling made him feel less like a creep for his own.

Then he cursed and opened the door again, leaning just his upper half out. “Oh, I need to tell you, you need to call, um, Alya? I’m really sorry, but we have the same ringtone and I answered without thinking. Can you call her back before she sends the cops after me? I can’t deal with Officer Roger this early in the morning.”

Marinette paused, and then let out a strangled laugh, dropping her head into her hand. “Yeah,” she sighed, but she was smiling when she looked up at him. “Sure, I can do that.”

Luka smiled back. “I'll only be a few minutes.”

He did want to be quick, but he also wanted to be clean and attractive, so he throttled back his impatience as best he could to make sure that he both smelled and looked good. The bedroom was still empty when he came in, but the door wasn’t shut all the way and he could hear Marinette on the phone. He felt a little guilty for eavesdropping, but it wasn’t as if he could help it.

“��about that but it’s not like I ditched you on purpose. Well obviously I was wasted, Alya, so I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. No, I’m really fine. I’m kind of embarrassed and I feel really stupid, but...it turned out okay. Hmm? No, he’s really sweet and considerate. He’s, um, buying me breakfast, so…what? No, Alya, I’m not stupid, I know that. He’s just being nice and—okay that is none of your business! ” There was a giggle that followed that, and then her voice dropped too quiet for him to hear, and another giggle, one that made him smile from the sheer joy evident in it. “I guess I got lucky in more ways than one.” She sighed. “Anyway, you don’t have to worry about me. I really am fine. Not even sick, much. I mean I had a headache for a while, but...” She giggled again. “Luka took care of it. Mm-hmm, so good, Alya, oh my God.” Luka grinned to himself as he dug in his closet to find the stack of leftover merch he had crammed into the back corner. “Nuh uh, also none of your business. Anyway, I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere, and I’ll text you when I’m on my way back, okay?”

Stop being a smug bastard , Luka told himself, but it wasn’t working very well. Given the state she had reduced him to, it was gratifying to know she’d enjoyed herself too. Well, he had known that, he’d made sure of it, but it still felt good to hear it from her. Maybe his odds were better than he thought. He found what he was looking for and tried to turn his smirk into something less incriminating before he opened his door and emerged into the living room. From the way Marinette’s face turned red, he failed. “I really gotta go,” she mumbled into the phone, eyes on him. “Bye, Alya.”

“I hope this will do,” Luka said, offering her the cheap mesh tote with his band logo on it. “You can keep it, we use them to bag up merch when people by t-shirts and stuff for the band...I hope it’s…”

“It’s fine,” Marinette smiled, taking the bag. The pieces of her dress were already neatly folded on the couch, and she turned away from him to put them in the bag.

“I’m really sorry about that,” Luka told her, frowning a little. “I’m...not usually like that.”

“It’s okay,” Marinette sighed. “It was kind of flimsy, with just those straps to hold the pieces together. I’m not usually like this…” she gestured with one of the folded pieces, “either. I’m not, you know, sexy like that. I made it because I thought...well, I thought he would like it, and maybe I could wear it for a special occasion at home, but I never meant to wear it out , and then when everything happened, I thought I’d never wear it at all, but then Alya insisted that I had to wear it at least once and…” She shrugged, and slipped the handles of the tote over her arm, smiling up at him. “I’m just as happy to have an excuse not to wear it again.”

“Well, you looked amazing in it,” Luka told her, the corner of his mouth twitching. “But I have to disagree with you about not usually being sexy. My clothes have never looked so hot.”

She tried to hide how much she enjoyed the compliment, but couldn’t quite manage it, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She’d had a breakup, he remembered, and probably wasn’t feeling too good about herself when she walked into that bar last night, dressed to the nines, and started knocking back drinks.

Then her blue eyes flicked up to give him a look through her lashes. “I find that hard to believe,” she murmured, and then blushed.

Oh he was gone. Luka found himself reaching for her, but stopped his hand before it touched her cheek. “Can I kiss you, Marinette?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Now, you’re asking?”

“Yes, I’m asking,” Luka replied, amused. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Marinette’s eyes darted to his mouth, and then back towards the bedroom. “I don’t, um...think I can…”

Luka chuckled. “Thanks for your opinion of my stamina, but frankly, me either. I’d be more than willing if I could, but, right here right now? I just really want to kiss you.”

“Why?” Marinette blurted, and then covered her mouth. Luka blinked, but before he could come up with any kind of answer, Marinette straightened and squared her shoulders. “Look,” she said briskly. “I’m sorry, I just...I’ve never done this before, and I don’t know what...I don’t know what the rules are? The...etiquette, or whatever...I mean I kind of thought once we were done with…” Her eyes shifted towards his bedroom again. “I thought it was just, over? And I would go home? So I’m...I guess I’m confused. About why you’re still...um...breakfast and kissing and all that, it just…why would you still want that, after you—I mean we—aren’t we, you know…” She floundered.

“Okay, hold on,” Luka raised his hands placatingly. “Relax, Marinette. That was kind of a lot to take in.” Luka chuckled, and looked away for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. “I’m not gonna say I’ve never done this before, but...listen, I don’t have a playbook. This isn’t...a business transaction, or whatever. I just do what feels good. Dancing with you felt good. Kissing you felt good. Everything we did after felt good. This morning felt really good.” Marinette blushed, a smile tugging at her lips. “I just feel good with you. I don’t see any reason to put a time limit on that, just because we’re, um. Worn out.” They both giggled self-consciously, and Luka reached for Marinette’s hand, cradling it in his. “If you want to go, or you need to be somewhere, or if you’re just tired of kissing me—”

“I don’t,” Marinette said quickly, taking a half step forward. “I’m...not.” Luka smiled.

“Then just do what feels g—”

She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him, dropping the bag on the floor. Luka’s hands found her hips automatically, steadying them both from her hasty move, and the kiss softened as they both relaxed into it.

“You’re right,” Marinette breathed, sending a shiver up his spine. “It does feel good.”

Luka kissed her again softly, savoring the soft plumpness of her lower lip between his, and rested his forehead against hers. “I could kiss you all day,” he rumbled, and cleared his throat. “But fainting from hunger probably wouldn’t feel so good, so. We should probably go.”

“Okay,” Marinette said, and then bit the lip he’d just been enjoying. “But maybe we could...keep doing what feels good? For a while? Until I have to go?”

“Hell yeah,” Luka grinned, and grinned wider when she rose up and kissed him again. He picked up her bag and offered it to her, and walked her to the front door and opened it for her, his other hand still entwined with hers.

They made it to the landing when Marinette hesitated at the top of the stairs. Looking over her head, Luka saw one of his nosier neighbors staring up at them, judgment in every line of her body. Marinette was frozen under the stare, red slowly creeping up her face. He could sense the sudden panic in her, and put a hand on her hip.

Luka leaned down by her ear. “You were the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen last night,” he murmured, smiling when Marinette shivered and turned her head slightly to listen to him, jolted out of whatever spiral she’d been in. “You completely blew my mind this morning. You’re a goddess. Own it and walk out of here like one.”

Marinette felt as if Luka’s words sank into her skin, warming her in such a way that she almost forgot what they were talking about. She was busy reliving the way he had arched against her, the praises he had whispered into her skin, the way he had clung to her, moaning as he came apart. She did that to him.

Luka watched as Marinette bit her lip, fighting the smile that was suddenly trying to break out. He brushed his lips against her temple and she looked up at him, still blushing but with a sparkle in her eye that did things to his heart. She reached back and caught his hand, tangling her fingers with his, and marched down the stairs, offering a cheerful smile to the old lady at the bottom. “Good morning,” she said, and Luka grinned shamelessly as they walked out of the door.

When they made it out of the building Luka suddenly pulled back on her hand, and Marinette gasped as he whirled her up against the wall and leaned down. Marinette rose up on her toes to meet him, cupping his face in her hands and they kissed fiercely. Luka braced his hands on the wall and leaned into her.

“Perfect,” he breathed, though even he wasn’t sure whether he meant her performance just now, or her in general.

Marinette’s hands slid from his face to his shoulders as she blushed and looked down, but then she looked back up at him, beaming, and Luka couldn’t help smiling back at her as he cupped her cheek and kissed her lightly one more time. “Breakfast,” he sighed, and pushed off the wall. He held out his hand, and Marinette put hers in it, and they were both grinning as they meandered down the sidewalk.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, and Marinette sighed blissfully.

“I feel...really good,” she answered. “Thank you.” She paused, and scrunched her nose. “Is that weird to say?”

“No,” Luka laughed, and brought their hands to his lips to press a kiss against her fingers. “Thank you too. I had a really good time. I’m glad you did too. I’m glad that...well, with the way things started. It could have all gone really badly, or not at all, and...I’m really glad I could show you a good time.”

Marinette blushed. “It was good. Really, um. Really good.” She sighed. “I promise I know more words than this.”

Luka chuckled. “It’s okay. Here, it’s this one.” He opened the café door, but he didn’t let go of Marinette’s hand, following right behind her into the café. They were directed to a booth, and he tugged at her, urging her to sit next to him instead of across.

Marinette only hesitated a moment. Do what feels good . Luka’s arm felt good against her shoulders as he laid it along the back of the booth, and he leaned down and kissed her without any trace of self-consciousness. Marinette’s fingers curled in his shirt. Kissing him felt really good. She should be embarrassed; she should be pushing him away. Hadn’t she heard over and over how important image is, and here she is making out with her one night stand, wearing his clothes, in a public diner booth.

Do what feels good .

It definitely felt good.

“God that feels good,” Luka sighed as they parted, and Marinette giggled. He kissed the top of her head, and then picked up the menu as a slightly wary waitress approached. Marinette glanced up at him in surprise at the rather domestic gesture, but then quickly away again. Stupid. They’d already had that conversation. It was just an impulse, not something to read into. Marinette looked up at the waitress instead, feeling her cheeks heat.

The waitress didn’t look phased at all. If anything, she looked bored. “Coffee?” she offered in a disinterested tone.

“Um, no, thank you,” Marinette managed to smile. “I’d like some lemon tea with honey, please.”

The waitress nodded, and glanced at Luka. “Usual, Lu?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Luka said, flashing a quick grin before looking at the menu again.

“Come here often?” Marinette teased, and Luka chuckled, then coughed lightly.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “It’s close and I’m lazy, so…” He shrugged.

The waitress returned and set down a little pot of hot water, a cup with a tea bag in it, and a container of honey.

Marinette pulled away from Luka slightly to prepare the tea, but his arm remained behind her on the back of the booth.

“Here,” Marinette said, sliding the tea over to him when it was ready. “This’ll help your throat.”.

Luka blinked, and then smiled. “Thank you,” he said, and Marinette found herself blushing under his suddenly soft gaze.

“No, thank you,” she said, and he laughed as she reached over and stole his coffee cup. She sipped it carefully. It wasn’t quite as sweet as she liked it, but it was good enough. She glanced up at Luka over the rim, and he was still giving her that soft look.

“I should figure out a ride,” Marinette murmured, looking away, and she picked up her phone.

“I can get you a cab if you want,” Luka offered, but Marinette shook her head.

“My roommate’s boyfriend works nights around here, and he should be getting off soon. I’ll see if he can pick me up first.” She smiled at Luka. “If not, we can revisit the offer. Thank you.”

He leaned down and kissed her again, and she kept him close for another, and her next text to Nino wasn’t entirely coherent.

They had to disentangle from each other when their food came, but Marinette remained very aware of Luka’s arm brushing her own, and the soft smiles he gave anytime she glanced at him. She glanced away, tucking back a lock of hair to cover up the fact that she was grinning like a fool. Is this what it’s supposed to feel like? she wondered. Was this just like, afterglow or something? Would it fade away once she left?

Luka touched her shoulder and Marinette jumped. He blinked. “Sorry. I was just asking if you got your ride worked out, but I guess you were a bit zoned out.”

“Sorry,” Marinette said quickly, and stuffed her phone back in her purse. “Yeah, Nino’s going to pick me up here in a little bit.” Luka nodded.

He put his arm back around her when they were finished eating, and he ordered another lemon tea instead of the coffee she expected. “You were right,” he smiled. “It did help.”

Marinette mixed it up for him again when it came, and then settled in and leaned against Luka’s side as he sipped it. He smelled nice, and he was warm, and she loved how easy he made everything feel.

Luka watched Marinette’s eyelids begin to droop. He nuzzled her hair and kissed her temple, but she just smiled, her eyes still closed. She was adorable, and Luka sighed before jostling her slightly.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” he warned, and Marinette blinked her eyes back open. “I don’t particularly mind, but we can’t stay in this booth all day.”

“Can’t we?” Marinette sighed. “I’m so comfortable. You’ve been...really great Luka. I’m kind of sorry it has to end.”

Luka took a breath, and took the plunge. “Well, about that. I was hoping maybe we could see each other again.”

Marinette blinked uncomprehendingly, and then blushed as she sat up and looked at him. “Y-you mean, like a...a b-b—”

“I mean like a date,” Luka corrected, mouth twitching. She was really too cute. “The kind with talking and dinner and movies or whatever. I’d really like to spend more time with you, Marinette. Talking, and not just...well. I’d be lying if I said I wanted to stop doing everything else, but...I want to get to know you.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “R-really?”

Luka tilted his head slightly. “Why are you surprised?”

“I just don’t—I mean I didn’t think I’d be…” Marinette ducked her head, drawing circles in the ring of condensation forming around the base of her water glass. “You don’t even know me.”

“True.” Luka raised his eyebrows, and shifted his gaze away so he wasn’t looking quite so fully at her. “That’s why I’m asking you out. I don’t know you, but I want to. If you want to call it quits now and go home and never see me again, I’ll accept that, but...it’s definitely not the way I want this to go.”

“I…” Marinette looked down, twining a finger nervously in her hair. “I don’t know, Luka. You’re really sweet and—I really did have a great time with you. It’s just…I don’t want you to get hurt because I’m on the rebound, I…I don’t know if I’m ready for another, um...relationship, right now. I mean...”

Not what he wanted to hear, but...“Okay. That’s fair,” Luka nodded, the fingers of his free hand beginning to tap the table lightly.. “What if we just keep things casual for now? We can go out sometimes, and have some fun together...do what feels good…” he squeezed her hip, and watched her try to keep back the smile that wanted to break out, “get to know each other, and if you want to see other people or whatever, I’m cool with that for now. I’d just really like the chance to spend more time with you. If it doesn’t go anywhere then…” He shrugged, “at least I tried. You’ve put me on notice now, so it’s my choice to take the risk. I think you’re worth it.” His heart was beating so fast, and the tap of his fingers picked up tempo as he watched Marinette consider.

“Why?” Marinette whispered at last, with a sigh that hurt his heart. Her last relationship must really have done a number on her.

Luka cupped her cheek in his hand, coaxing her to look up at him. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just...have a feeling about you. I’ve learned to trust my instincts about people. I can’t explain it logically, I just...know. You’re someone I want to know. I felt it from the moment I saw you, before I’d even had a single drink.”

Marinette pursed her lips, looking up at him. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to live up to that,” she said after a long moment.

Luka let his thumb stroke lightly against her lower lip. “You don’t have to live up to anything. Just be you, and let what happens happen.” He bent and kissed her, slipping a hand behind her neck to get a better angle as he plundered her mouth in a way that was definitely not appropriate for a public place. Luka was pretty far beyond caring at the moment though. That this gorgeous, sweet, vibrant woman, could question that someone might be drawn to her, attracted to her for more than a passing moment...it just wasn’t right.

Marinette relaxed into him with a quiet moan. Her hand slipped under his jacket and pressed into his chest, feeling him up shamelessly, and his own fingers tightened on her hip.

“So,” he breathed, when he finally let her slip reluctantly away. “What do you say?”

Marinette looked up at him, and bit her reddened lip, and then quietly asked, “Are you free this weekend?”

Luka grinned. “Actually, not so much, I’m usually playing gigs on weekends...how about Thursday? That way I don’t have to hurry away.”

Marinette hummed, and pulled out her phone. He watched the fingertip she pressed against her lips as she considered her schedule, and admired her bright eyes when she smiled up at him. “Okay, Thursday works.”

“It’s a date,” Luka smiled so softly that Marinette’s heart fluttered. How did he do that, kiss her like that and then do something so—so sweet .

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, she thought as he got out his own phone to swap numbers with her. What if she fell for him?

But...he sounded like he wanted her to fall for him. Maybe? But what if he fell for her, and she was just using him for sex? Because he’d made her feel so, so good...important and beautiful and wanted and…

It might not even be like that again, she told herself. Maybe I just imagined it because I was lonely and depressed and feeling unwanted...maybe I would be thinking about anyone who gave me some attention that way. Maybe we’ll just...fizzle out and it won’t even be an issue..

Luka curled his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up. “You okay?” he asked softly.

“I…” her voice was shaking, and she took a breath and forced a smile. “Yeah. Just. I’m tired.”

He didn’t believe her. “You’re okay,” he told her, kissing her cheek gently, and then the corner of her mouth. “Whatever’s going on, it’s going to be okay.”

Marinette’s phone beeped, and she picked it up with relief. “He’s almost here.”

She slid out of the booth, and Luka followed. He left some bills on the table and took her hand as they walked out.

“That’s my ride,” Marinette gestured as Nino pulled up at the curb. She turned to face Luka, stepping close. He set his hands on her hips and squeezed as she leaned up to kiss his cheek, but she paused, and then turned and caught his mouth instead. Luka moved easily to meet her in one of those slow, deep kisses that made it seem like he had no other place in the world to be. She stroked his cheeks with her fingertips and kissed him again, and then again as she slid her fingers back up into his hair. “Goodbye, Luka,” she whispered, and he shook his head.

“See you later,” he corrected softly.

As he let go of her she felt something slide along her hip and looked down to see the pink scarf that had been tied around her waist slipping away. She looked up at Luka’s grinning face as he winked at her and draped the gauzy scarf around his neck. He raised the fabric to his face and inhaled. “See you Thursday,” he told her, eyes twinkling, and turned to walk away.

Marinette’s knees felt shaky as she stepped down the curb and opened the car door.

Nino was hunched down in the front seat, both hands pulling his cap over his face. “Geeze, Nette,” he muttered as she fell into the seat and tucked her feet inside. “I really didn’t need to see that.”

“Sorry,” she said breathlessly, but as she flipped down the visor to check herself in the vanity mirror, she saw pink cheeks and sparkling eyes and a broad smile, and knew that she wasn’t convincing. She pressed her fingers to her lips and, for Nino’s sake, fought down the urge to squeal.

Her glow dimmed a bit as she followed Nino up the stairs to the apartment she shared with Alya. She loved her friend, but...she wasn’t looking forward to this conversation. She tugged the collar of Luka’s shirt a little higher on her neck, and tried to remember what Luka had told her. She had nothing to be ashamed of.

“Well well well,” Alya drawled as Marinette slipped into the apartment after Nino. “Your very first walk of shame.” She smirked. “Marinette, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“What I had in me was a lot of vodka,” Marinette huffed, and came over to the table, accepting the glass of ice water Alya pushed across to her.

Alya waited until Marinette had the drink at her lips to add, “And a hot guy, apparently.”

Marinette choked, just as Alya had intended. “Alya!”

“Don’t tell me he wasn’t, girl,” Alya snickered. “You, my friend, look very well fucked.”

Marinette blushed hard. She was, at that, but Alya didn’t have to put it so...crassly.

Nino groaned. “You know what, just...knock and let me know when you’re done. I don’t want to think about it.” He went down the hall into Alya’s bedroom and shut the door.

“So you said goodbye to Mr. Right For Tonight?” Alya asked, tapping her fingers against her own glass. “You have all your stuff, right?” She frowned. “Are those his clothes? What happened to your dress?”

“I have it with me,” Marinette defended, picking up the bag she’d dropped. “He just...thought I’d be more comfortable in something else.” Not for a million euros would she have told Alya the whole truth about the dress. “And yes, I said goodbye. For now, anyway,” Marinette muttered, and caught Alya’s gaze when she looked up. Something in that look made her squirm. “Actually we have a date later this week,” she admitted.

“A date?” Alya raised her eyebrows. “Marinette, maybe I need to clue you in on a few things about this whole one night stand business. As in, one single night. After which you…” She made a fluttering motion with her hand. “You’re not supposed to get a date.”

Marinette shrugged, and reached over to pluck a croissant from Alya’s plate, just to have something to do with her hands. “Oops.”

Alya’s frown deepened.

“What? It’s no big deal,” Marinette defended, though she wasn’t even sure why she felt the need. “We just...thought we’d like to see each other again.”

Alya looked troubled for a moment, and then grinned. “It was that good, huh?”

“Well—” Marinette squirmed in her seat again. “It was fine, okay? He just...seemed nice.”

“Uh huh.”

“It was your idea anyway!” Marinette pointed out defensively.

“My idea was for you to go out and get buzzed and enjoy being drooled over,” Alya grinned. “You decided to get hammered and then get laid all on your own. I hope you’re satisfied .”

Marinette couldn’t cover the silly smile that wanted to come up at that, but when Alya snickered, Marinette shook herself back to reality and sighed. “It was probably my imagination making things better than they were. I was feeling pretty down last night and I did have a lot to drink. And it has, you know. Been a while.”

“Maybe started seeing through beer goggles?” Alya teased. “Not that I blame you, I thought he was pretty cute when you were dancing, but I’d had a few myself by then too. Not your usual type, but it’s good to branch out.”

Marinette blushed. She didn’t want to tell Alya that while her memories of the evening were hazy, she remembered Luka in the morning very clearly, not only the lines of his body but the broadness of his back beneath her arms as she clung to him, the ripple of the muscles tensing and releasing against her as he moved, the dark intensity of his eyes and the way they fluttered closed when she did something he liked.

She picked up her water glass and took a long gulp. No, she hadn’t needed the liquor to be attracted to him. Not at all.

Still. She wasn’t exactly thinking clearly, even now. “Watch,” Marinette sighed, setting the glass down. “The date’ll be a bust and that’ll be the end of it. We probably won’t have anything to say to each other and we’ll exchange awkward texts for a few days and then we’ll never speak again.”

“Hmm,” Alya raised her eyebrows. “We’ll see. It’s fine if you want to have fun, Marinette, you sure as hell could use some. Just be careful, always use protection, and don’t let him take any nudes.”

Marinette blushed deeply, and bit into her croissant. “Thanks so much for your concern,” she muttered around the mouthful.

***

Marinette knew she was in trouble as soon as she locked eyes with Luka and her stomach started doing somersaults. The slow smile he gave her was so distracting that she barely heard his greeting, or the compliment that followed. She didn’t remember putting her hand in his, it was just there, his fingers rubbing lightly over her knuckles. They hadn’t even made it to the restaurant when Luka tugged her into a shadowed corner and kissed her in that slow, purposeful way he had. His voice surprised her a little, smoother than it had been, without the roughness of hard usage, but, she found, just as seductive. Any resistance Marinette might have had crumbled the second he turned them out of the light and breathed may I ? against her lips.

When they did finally make it to their table, Luka was just as easygoing as he’d been on their first...night, and he meant it when he said he wanted to get to know her. He asked her questions, and seemed interested in what she said, even when she babbled, watching her with a quietly amused smile. He was interesting, too, telling her about his travels for the past year with his band. They had a surprising number of tastes in common. His eyes were fixed on her whenever she spoke, and he was touching her whenever he got the chance, taking her hand or playing with her fingers, brushing her hair back or letting his hand rest on her shoulder. Despite the kisses they shared whenever one of them couldn’t help themselves, his touch didn’t feel like seduction, just tenderness. Marinette felt like the center of his world, and after so long living on the sidelines of someone else’s life, she reveled in it.

They were laughing as he walked her home.

“You did not,” Marinette gasped, one hand over her mouth and the other curled around Luka’s arm.

“We totally did. What can I say, it was a full moon and my best friend is crazy.” Luka shrugged, and grinned while Marinette laughed.

“Wait, so are you a werewolf?” Marinette asked teasingly, as they approached the awning of her building.

“No,” Luka chuckled. “Unless you’re into that. If so, I can see what arrangements I can make for the next full moon.”

“You’d get bitten by a werewolf for me?” Marinette giggled. “How sweet.”

“I’d rather be bitten by you,” Luka teased back, and his hand found her hip, and her arms came up around his neck, and then they were kissing. Heat welled up in her, making her push up against him. Luka made a sound low in his throat and his hands slid to her lower back, pressing her closer. Oh, she wanted him, and by the feel of him he wanted her too, and…

Well. There really wasn’t any point in denying their mutual desire, was there. Marinette pulled away to press her lips along his jaw, and he made that sound again as he tilted his head for her.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” Marinette asked, toying with his collar. “My roommate’s out of town tonight, so we won’t be, um...bothering anybody.”

“I’d love to,” Luka told her, voice deepening. “I’d hate for you to be lonely, all by yourself.”

“Oh, I can entertain myself,” Marinette said daringly, looking up at him through her lashes. “I have an excellent imagination. There’s definitely advantages to having the real you here, though.”

“Play your cards right and I’m sure we can manage the best of both worlds.” Luka bent and kissed the join of her neck and shoulder, sucking hard enough to make her shudder. “You can start with telling me how you imagine we get upstairs. Are we making out in the elevator or am I chasing you up the stairs?”

“Elevator,” Marinette sighed, head tilting as he retraced his favorite route up her neck. “I don’t want to wear your legs out just yet.” She paused to consider. “Maybe you could chase me that far, though.”

Luka pressed another long, slow kiss to her mouth. “Then you’d better run,” he told her, grinning playfully. “I won’t be responsible for what happens when I catch you.” They both giggled, and then Marinette broke away, running for the building doors. Luka darted after her, staying just at her heels, sweeping her up in his arms just in time to carry her through the elevator doors. Marinette spared a brief moment to wonder what she was doing, being so bold, and in sight of the entire lobby, too, but Luka grinned at her, and she forgot to care. Marinette leaned over him to press the button for her floor, and then forgot everything but his mouth under hers.

Later, when they said a lingering goodbye at her door, and he asked her if she’d like to go out again, she didn’t even hesitate before agreeing. She’d figure out a way to explain it to Alya later.

Fiction Master Post

#quickspins #oops #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #i'll never not know you #pro lukamari #nsfwish fic #alya salt #depending on your sensitivity #one night stand to lovers

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