#oh well. first step is fixing my sleep schedule i think. and then i can start working on itnl in my long pauses between classes.

[orcelito]

Man when I do show up to update ITNL again what am I even gonna say? "Sorry I disappeared again despite saying I wasn't going to disappear again bc turns out I wasn't actually recovered from the grief stuff and I still am not recovered but I'm trying my best to live my life anyways! 👍 also I started school again and life is a hell"

Like I know half a year isn't all That long in the grand scheme of things. But it's also been officially over a year with only 1 update, and I Hate that... I feel like I'll have lost a lot of old readers to time and changing interests. And I know I can also earn new readers via updating, + I have some very loyal readers who will be so excited to see me updating again, but. Agh. I feel like I'm just overthinking it.

[ravcnism]

HEY uhm.. i've been having this idea.. like imagine kenji sato x m!reader athlete as well? help, i just thought the dynamic would be cute. it could be a rival team on the baseball league or another sports. I just thought it would be cool!

STRIKEOUT. — KEN SATO x Male!Athlete READER

Summary: The Hiroshima Toyo Carp may have a new player in town, but his name is nowhere near unheard of. The prized star pitcher of The States takes the country by storm when he spontaneously shows up against the Yomiuri Giants. Ken Sato’s career is given a run for its money.

# # TAGS: Longform, Enemies to Lovers but like Still Enemies as Lovers, A LOT of Tension, Sports Anime-Level of Ridiculous, Star-Athlete!Male Reader, Author Doesn't Actually Know Anything About Baseball, Sort of a Slow Burn? No Beta We Die Like Onda

# # WARNINGS: Mild Violence, Mature Language, Eventual Smut if I’m Brave Enough, English is not My First Language, Around 2000 Words, Part One of ??

Night fell promptly upon the Sato residence. The sun had tucked itself into the sea and left a trail of gold in its warm, glistening wake. From afar, the ever-lively city of New Tokyo lit up street by street.

Beneath the water, in the basement, a newly-bathed Emi waddled towards her corner of the house; smelling of fresh sakura petals, and cuddling a half-crushed Nissan Skyline GT-R. Full from dinner, and satisfied by her shower, she felt the gentle arms of sleep coaxing her to a nap. With a squeaky yawn, and a stretch of her arm, she succumbed to its calls and laid on her spot on the ground. A very amused Hayao Sato came walking after her. “Silly girl. The bath and snack combo never fails to knock you out, huh?”

Kenji Sato, well-dressed for a night out, entered after. He was preoccupied by his sleeves, fingers fumbling to button them shut. “Remember, Dad. No videos after 10 pm. We can’t ruin her sleep schedule again.”

“Of course, Kenji.” His father waved him off with his cane. “You act as if I don’t know her routine like the back of my hand.”

“I’m just making sure.” He was fixing his hair, then, gelling it into place. His eyes narrowed at his own reflection, trying to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. “And of course you’ve got Mina to help.”

“Definitely, Ken.” As if on cue, the round hovering bot came floating in. “We have everything under control. You needn’t worry about us here.”

Professor Sato chuckled at his son, leaning on his good foot. “You seem to have a lot of nervous energy in you, Kenji.”

The batter sighed, tugging on his collar one last time. “I’m always nervous when I’m not playing.” Deciding he looked alright, Ken left his reflection alone. “No idea why. Might have something to do with my dislike towards things that I can’t control, but I’m not gonna get into that right now–” He shuffled about, searching frantically for his jacket. “Mina, where did I put my–?” An extended robot arm appeared from the floor and handed it to him. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Try to enjoy yourself anyway, Kenji.” Professor Sato had walked over to Emi, who was fast asleep, snoring slightly. He lifted a hand and rubbed her head. “I think it’s good that you go to these games even when you’re not scheduled. I can tell it lifts your team’s spirits.”

“Yeah, well, honestly I’m still trying to get used to it. The whole sportsmanship thing.” Ken sprayed his cologne on. He made a quick jog towards Emi and kissed her cheek. “Sleep tight, Sweetie.” He looked at his dad. With his motorcycle keys now in hand, he walked backwards to their glass elevator. “If anything happens, call me. You know the drill.”

“Yes, Ken,” replied Mina. “We do. Rest assured, there will not be a repeat of last time.”

“Right, right. Last time.” Kenji forced out a laugh. “Look, if she wakes up and I’m not home yet, try to get her to tire herself out. Load up a park. Throw some balls. But no flying outside, please? You know she gets carried away.”

“Understood.”

With a final glance, and a reluctant sigh, he stepped into the lift. “I’ll be back soon.” Leaving her 20-foot Kaiju-of-a-daughter never got any easier — no matter how many times he had gone and done it. He waved his family a quick goodbye, before disappearing from their line of sight.

His dad was right. It was good that he was going. The Giants had a game to win.

"Good evening sports fans! Ladies and gentlefolk, we welcome you to the highly anticipated matchup between the Hiroshima Toyo Carp and your Yomiuri Giants.”

The stadium was bright and buzzing with excitement. Ken was used to the energy, but he never grew tired of it. There was something almost magical about having this many people in a stadium together. Something electrifying about hearing their collective voices. Whether or not he was set to play, the crowd was what grounded him into focus. He adored their cheers, regardless of who it was directed to.

“We’ve got an intense start to the game so far, the home crowd doesn’t look too happy with Tateoka’s second strikeout.”

“How's it looking?” Ken appeared beside his teammate, Yuki, who was watching the game by the barriers.

“Bad. We're dying out there, Sato. Tateoka's our second batter. We're down one strikeout.”

Ken's brows knitted together, intrigued. He had gotten here a little late and missed a good chunk of the first inning. He had missed most of the commentary, too, so he was pretty much left in the dark. All he knew was that the home crowd didn't look too cheerful. And neither did Coach Shimura. ( Though technically, he couldn't remember a time when Shimura looked anything less than disappointed. ) Ken settled into his spot, nursing a canned soda.

The pitcher’s back was against him, his jersey name too far for him to read. He couldn't see who it was. Ken took notice of their form. Their figure. “Wait, who's throwing again?”

His teammate dropped a name so familiar it sent Ken choking on his drink.

“Fucking, who?” He dropped the name of a famous star-athlete. A name he saw on billboards, news reports, articles. A name so expensive it put his vintage cars to shame. A name with a strikeout rate so disgustingly high it had the best teams falling to their knees. A staggering 1.75 ERA. Almost zero walks. Your name, sent a shiver down Ken Sato’s spine. You, the Mets’ notorious Bullet, now a surprise player of the Toyo Carp.

He watched as you turned around. Your face came into view. You were frighteningly calm. The Giants’ batter was one strike away from an out. Kenji swallowed thickly. “When the hell did he get here?”

“Yeah. Apparently they traded him to Carp a week ago. Didn't get much buzz for some reason.” Yuki scoffed. “Think they covered it up? Element of surprise? It was a pretty big move.”

The fact that Kenji had never been put up against you before was sheer dumb luck. That's what he thought, anyway. Despite the fact that the both of you had been celebrities in The States, the seasons just never aligned well enough to get the both of you to play at the same park. But he hadn't dreamed of it. Who in their right mind would? Like a bullet from a gun, your pitches were unstoppable. You had a mutant-like control over the ball. There were studies on the physics of your technique. Even the best batters would miss your throws. And at that moment, as he watched his teammate strike himself out, Kenji wondered if he'd miss, too.

He wouldn't have to keep wondering. Understanding the weight of your presence, the Yomiuri Giants opted to bring in the calvary.

“Sato.” Ken flinched at Shimura’s voice. He looked over his shoulder, facing him. “Locker room. Get dressed — I'm calling you up.”

He laughed, nervously. “You sure that's legal, coach?” He wasn't scheduled to play today, and spontaneously entering a non-player into the field was only allowed upon certain circumstances. Like an injury, for example.

“Of course it is.” Shimura grumbled. “Tokuda just broke his arm.”

The mentioned Tokuda stood behind him, sipping on some soda, with his obviously not-broken arm. “You heard the man, Ken. I just broke my arm.”

Ken grimaced, heading for the door. “The press is going to love this…” Japan's finest batter, versus The States’ fastest pitcher. Oh, this would make the headlines for sure.

Kenji did as he was told. He walked into the locker room, then walked out in full-attire. The speakers crackled to life. There was a steady rise in the crowd’s demeanor. People were slowly piecing the situation together. The announcers were losing their minds. “And It looks like — oh my goodness, folks. I don't believe this. Ken Sato has been called up into the field!”

The stadium went alight. Ken walked into the park and wondered if the lights were a little brighter than usual. He was doing his stretches, rolling his shoulders. His bat was handed to him and he flipped it in his hand. He allowed the cheers to boost his energy, and perhaps a bit of his ego.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we might be witnessing baseball history tonight! Two of the opposing team’s star players have come face to face for the first time ever. And it's happening right here, right now.”

You met his eyes. Ken’s breath hitched. You were so… intense. He couldn't properly describe it. You watched him move into position like a lion stalking its prey.

“Will Sato stop the Toyo Carp’s brand new Bullet? Or will he walk out of this game bleeding?”

The trick was to look them in the eye. A pitcher was no different from a batter when it came to a game. They shared the same weight of responsibility. The only time a stadium is silent is when they're standing face to face. Like a duel. One of Ken’s techniques was staring them down and reminding them that he was a force to be reckoned with. He was Ken Sato, for crying out loud.

Unfortunately for him, you were unshaken. Which he would’ve been offended by, if he were younger and more immature. No matter, he had other things to look for. Like the cues. Each pitcher had their own cue; a sort of tell that told Ken what kind of throw they’d be going for. He didn’t hit those pitches out of pure luck. Contrary to popular belief, he was actually thinking these games through. There were a plethora of things to look at. A pitcher’s stance, their position, which hand they were using. In an easier game, Ken would be able to read these pitchers like an open book.

But if you were a book, then you would've been written in a different language. He could find no such cues. He didn’t really have anything to calculate. You were as unpredictable as you were quick. None of his usual techniques seemed to be working on you.

The last resort: keep your eye on the damn ball, and freakin’ swing.

You held your hand outward, fingers pointed at him. There was a kind of hunger in your eyes, an expression that made Ken’s heart skip a beat. Your focused glare made him feel as if a red dot had appeared on his forehead. Like you had marked him for prey. It felt… personal. Like it wasn’t a part of the game, and you were only pointing at him. A threat. A dare.

You pulled your pitching arm back. He swore he heard a gun cock. The stadium went quiet. The crowd held its breath. So did Ken. He tightened his grip on his bat. He waited, eagerly, for you to make your move. He was counting the milliseconds, watching you, anticipating your throw, waiting for you to shoot.

And you did.

Ken blinked, and the ball was gone from your hands. He released the breath he was holding through a disbelieved scoff. He turned, and the catcher had stumbled slightly, holding your ball. The crowd grew into disarray, a rising cacophony of cheers and boos. They just couldn’t believe it. Ken Sato not only missed your pitch, but wasn’t able to move at all. He couldn’t even swing. You were too fast. Too abrupt.The ball was a white blur, there a moment, then gone the next. It wasn’t an issue of the curve, nor the direction. It was just too fucking fast.

His teammates couldn’t believe their eyes. And neither did his coach. Ken craned his head to look at you. You stared back at him, stone-faced.

He took a breath to regain his composure, resuming his earlier stance. He would never admit it, but he was rattled. He was trying to understand how that throw was humanly possible. How he had somehow forgotten to move. He could do nothing more but stand haunted as he heard the resounding “strike one!” from the umpire. This wasn’t the first time he’d missed, but it was the first time he froze. It was a spectacle to all, and a moment of horror for his fans. Did the Unstoppable Ken Sato finally meet his match? Even if he did, he was determined not to lose a second time.

“Okay,” he whispered. He took a deep, focused breath, slightly shifting his stance. He kept his feet firm on the ground, bat at the ready. “Okay, Hotshot. Bring it on.”

You kept your eyes on him and him alone. You stared at him as if you were the only two people in the stadium. The crowd went silent once again. The Giants fans were desperate to give Sato the focus he so-terribly needed, but the Carp fans were just curious to see how the second pitch would go. The air was thick and heavy with tension.

Like before, you threw your hand out, fingers pointed at Ken. You drew your pitching arm back, like an archer, and there was that sound in his mind again. The cock of a gun. Ken waited. He counted you down. He was a hunter dressed in camo, waiting for a deer to move.

Then, for the first time since he’d seen you, your expression changed. You grinned at him.

Then you winked.

Shit.

You threw the ball. Ken swung.

But he missed.

The crowd erupted into chaos. There was an indistinguishable pandemonium of disdain and celebration. People screamed and jumped and waved their banners as high as they possibly could. A number of them had already entered a state of acceptance — the Giants would lose to a perfect game. No batter would ever get through the wall that was you. But a lot of them kept their faith in the ever-notorious Sato. He could hit the last shot. He could pull this off. He might have been struggling to match your speed, but he would figure it out. They believed in him like he was a god.

And at that moment, as Kenji heard the echoing “strike two!” he certainly felt the anger of one.

Did you just fucking wink? Did you seriously have the audacity to wink at him? Kenji took it personally. Who did you think you were? Though his lips spoke nothing of the foul words he wished so eagerly to shout, it was clear on his face that he wanted you gone. It was one thing to embarrass him with a fastball, but another to rub it in. He wouldn’t let that slide. He wouldn’t allow you to strike him out.

Yoshimura was gripping the barrier so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.“Eyes up, Sato!”

Kenji breathed. Through his nose, this time. He drew a long breath into his entire body and blew it out through his lips. He wouldn’t miss. He couldn’t miss. While he might have already taught himself the humility that came with losing, he hadn’t taught himself jackshit about losing to you.

“If looks could kill,” whispered Ami Wakita, the reporter who watched the game from the press booth. Typing into her laptop, she wrote: “There seems to be obvious tension on the field. Nothing new for Ken Sato, yet, significantly different. Japan’s star player has finally met his match. This game has been a long time coming.”

This was his last chance, and he wasn’t going to waste it. Kenji raised his bat, and narrowed his eyes. You weren’t blind to his added efforts, and smirked at him again. Oh, how it made his blood boil.

Point.

Pull.

Throw.

Swing.

This time, the ball made contact.

The crowd blew up once more, exhausting their lungs as they watched the ball fly across the field. Kenji had hit it. Kenji had managed to catch your bullet-of-a-pitch. He dropped his bat to the ground and ran for his life. Base to base, corner to corner. Kenji leapt across the field and jumped for home.

“Safe!”

The crowd went wild. He had heard stadiums cheer for him before, but he didn't think he had ever heard anything this loud. With a relieved laugh, Kenji got up from the ground, and finally caught his breath. His teammates ran to greet him, though they had only passed the first inning. With a round as intense as that one, they felt it was only right to celebrate a little early.

And then he looked at you. Your eyes met. You were smiling at him again. He didn't like the lack of concern on your face. He didn't like that you didn't seem challenged. And he especially didn't like the fact that he was out there playing for his life, while you seemed to have played for a weekend game at the park.

Kenji was glaring at you, as if he was burning holes into your head. You lifted a hand and threw him a casual salute, flicking two fingers towards his direction. Dammit, he thought. That wink really threw him off. Which it shouldn't have.

Unfortunately for him, the game was nowhere near the last time you'd interact.

And there'd be the after-party to boot.

[freedomfireflies]

SnakeBite*

Summary: The third part to 404*

The one where Harry is good for more than a good time.

But he's still good at that, too.

Word Count: 5.2k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Oh, come on…please. Please, don’t do this. Not right now. Not today…please.”

With a deep breath, you stick the key back into the ignition and try again. Waiting anxiously for the sound of the engine roaring to life. A sound you desperately need to hear more than anything.

Instead, all that follows is that familiar clunking of something heavy before there’s a rather shrill buzzing you can’t quite place.

Fuck.

Exasperated and woefully defeated, you take the key back out, groan, and drop your forehead onto the steering wheel. “This is not happening.”

Truth be told, you should have seen this coming. This isn’t the first time your poor car has made this unsettling noise, and perhaps it’s your fault for ignoring it for so long. You hadn’t meant to; you just didn’t realize it was this bad. Or that your car was this old.

Now, you’re trapped in the Juno Incorporated parking lot on a Friday afternoon with no way of getting you or your car home.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

You don’t even bother to lift your head as Harry’s voice carries in through the window. “Nothing. Go away.”

You hear the sound of his boots scraping across the concrete before they stop, and you feel a large shadow fall over your side of the vehicle. “Can I assume that god awful noise came from this hunk of shit you call a car?”

Leaning back, you huff as you look over. “I’m sorry, do you want something?”

Harry smirks, arms crossing over his chest as he juts his chin toward you. “Pop the hood, let me see.”

“Yeah…no.”

“Come on,” he pushes, a few curls dancing across his forehead from a soft gust of wind. You realize he looks different outside of the lab. Normal, almost. It’s unsettling. “You wanna leave, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but knowing you, you’d probably cut my breaks.”

“If I were gonna take you out, I would have done it by now.”

“Oh. Wow. You’re really instilling me with a lot of confidence, thanks.”

He steps back and motions toward the front of your car. “Fucking relax, Tinkerbell, and just pop the goddamn hood.”

Regretfully, you do as instructed before leaning out the open window to watch him walk toward your engine. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“I know enough,” he replies, using the back of his hand to push on his glasses before bending down.

“That…is not helpful.”

“Well, I’m your only shot. Everyone else is gone.”

“I can call a repair guy.”

He shakes his head once. “Won’t get here in time. It’s rush hour on a Friday. You’ll be here for hours if they even show at all. And chances are, they won’t be able to schedule you in till next week. So, unless you’re planning to sleep here, in your car, can you please shut the fuck up, and let me focus?”

You feel your expression morph into a scowl as you unclick your seatbelt and step out. “I’d rather sleep in my car than trust you to fix my engine.”

You notice his eyes roll, but he’s amused. “Well, I can’t fix it. Not here. I think it’s your spark plugs. They tend to wear out faster in older cars. You’ll probably have to get them replaced.”

Scurrying to stand beside him, you glance over your engine and the internal workings of the car with a heavy sigh.

“You’re kidding,” you mumble beneath another strained groan. “And let me guess, it’s gonna be expensive.”

“Probably,” he agrees, glancing over. “But it’s not like you can’t afford it.”

Your eyes narrow. “I know I can afford it, I just don’t like dropping thousands of dollars on something so dumb.”

“Spark plugs aren’t dumb,” he retorts while reaching for your hood to slam it shut. “You need them to fucking drive.”

“Yeah, but having to pay for a rental car, manual labor, and a tow truck is dumb,” you point out. “And this is the last thing I need right now.”

His eyebrow lifts but he doesn’t ask for elaboration. Instead, he begins to stride across the lot toward a dark, black Harley, leaving you and your crisis behind.

In turn, you reach for your cellphone to look up local tow trucks and mechanics that might be able to help you out.

To your dismay, most shops are already closed for the weekend, except for one. And after a very lengthy and frustrated discussion, you learn that they won’t be able to come by until much later tonight. Which means that all your hopes of having a nice, relaxing evening are for naught. 

Once again defeated, you slump back against the side of your car and drop your head. “Well…great.”

Harry’s smirk returns as he glances over and straddles his bike. “What?”

“I’m stuck here until midnight,” you mumble, running a palm down the side of your cheek. “You were right, everyone is booked.”

“Shit,” is about all he offers while pulling his helmet over his head. “That sucks.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Welcome.” He revs the engine, and just like that, the bike roars to life. The loud and somewhat startling sound echoing across the parking lot as you flinch.. “So, what’s the plan, Princess? You gonna call an Uber and come back later?”

“I can’t,” you shout over the noise. “I have to be here in case they come early, or they’ll leave.”

Through the open visor, you see him frown. “Ah.”

“Yeah.”

He studies you for a moment more, and you feel your skin grow warm under such a scrutinous gaze. Like he’s looking for something written between the lines of your face. “Well…make sure you lock your doors.”

“No shit.”

He smiles again before flipping the visor shut and steadying the bike with his leg. You stand back, ready to watch him speed out of the lot and onto the street, but to your surprise…he simply sits there.

In fact, a good sixty seconds pass before he suddenly slips the helmet off his head, sighs, and thrusts it toward you. “Get on.”

You blink. “What?”

“Get on the fucking bike, Tink,” he repeats. “I know a bar we can hang out in till they get here.”

“I…I just told you, I can’t leave—”

“You can see the parking lot from inside,” he interrupts. “If they show, we can just run back over.”

You step closer, drawn to his proposition, although still wildly confused. “Uh…okay. Why, though? I’m fine to just wait here.”

He looks at you, the grassy green behind his glasses somehow softer in this natural lighting. “S’not safe,” he says simply, shrugging one shoulder up. “Be better to wait somewhere public, and I don’t really want your death on my conscience.”

 And you aren’t exactly sure what to say. Because you think this may be the nicest thing he’s ever done for you – even if it’s still a little odd – and you don’t want to spook him by doing the wrong thing.

But as you debate a response, he shakes the helmet at you again, rather aggressively. “Tink, get on the goddamn bike, please. I’m wasting gas here.”

With a huff, you snatch it from his hand and join him on the Harley. The helmet slips on rather easily, and once you’re sure it’s snug and secure, your eyes trail down his back, unsure of how to proceed. 

You don’t exactly want to…hold him. Or touch him or straddle him. At least, not outside of the way you do in secret. In broad daylight. Where people could see.

In fact, you already feel as though you’re grinding against his ass from how small this goddamn seat is. Almost too close for comfort as you catch a subtle trace of his cologne and feel the warmth from his body.

But motorcycles don’t exactly come with seatbelts, and if he were to take a sharp corner, you might end up pancaked on the cement.

“Tinkerbell,” you suddenly hear him call over his shoulder, voice raised to carry over the growl of the engine. “Just fucking grab me, it’s fine.”

You glare at his curls, despite knowing he can’t see you. “I’m good.”

He snorts again before he’s suddenly reaching back, grabbing onto your wrists, and hoisting your arms around his middle.

You’re tugged forward, your chest pressing to his spine rather forcefully as he glances back.

“Pussy,” he murmurs, releasing the clutch until the bike jolts forward and takes off through the parking lot.

With a rather shrill squeal, you tighten your hold on his broad frame, and bury yourself between his shoulder blades. The sensation is exhilarating and frightening all in the same moment. The rush of wind, adrenaline, and the way he leans around the corner before taking off down the street.

You think you feel his chest vibrate with laughter, perhaps from the way your nails are scraping down his shirt. And despite your increasing terror, you find that you feel oddly…safe with him at the handles.

Not even two minutes later, he’s pulling into another parking spot on the other side of the street, right in front of the aforementioned bar. It’s a bar you recognize, one that a few of your other coworkers often frequent from time to time.

In fact, this is the exact same bar you and Harry first hooked up in all those months ago.

The memory makes you smile.

“What?” Harry asks as swings his leg over the side and stands up. “Why are you grinning like that?”

You quickly wipe the smirk from your face while wrestling the helmet off to hand back. “Like what? I’m just smiling, calm down.”

“I don’t like when you smile. It freaks me out.”

“You’re really rude, you know that?”

“What? I’m just being honest. You have a lot of teeth. It’s weird.”

You glower at him, swatting his chest as you brush by. “Bite me, Harold.”

“With what? Your teeth?”

You feign a snubbed gasp – to which he chuckles – before striding into the bar, leaving him to follow behind.

The large room is loud and crowded with people, the smell of alcohol and bad decisions clinging to the air. You make a beeline for the counter, exhausted and overworked and already annoyed by Harry’s future comments before he can even make them.

Like—

“Really? An appletini?” 

With a deep breath, you look over while the bartender turns around to begin prepping your drink. “Yes, really. I like apples. And it’s delicious. And the color is fun.”

He rests an arm on the edge of the marble bar and leans in. “How incredibly boring of you.”

Once again, your expression falls flat. “Are you gonna be this fucking annoying the whole time? Because I’d rather wait by my car and get murdered.”

“I make no promises.”

“Clearly. And let me guess, you’re gonna order something cool and manly like a scotch on the rocks.”

Harry’s eyebrow quirks up before he smugly turns toward the bartender and calls, “I’ll have a SnakeBite.”

You can actually feel your eyes roll all the way into the back of your head. “God, you’re fucking pretentious.”

“Thank you,” he says with a smile, and you grit your teeth. “Will you relax? I haven’t even had a drink yet and you’re killing my buzz.”

“I’m not killing anything, I just can’t stand you.”

“No? Ouch. I thought we were friends.”

The sarcasm is evident, but you huff, nevertheless. “For the love of god, shut up.”

“What?” He nods his chin at you. “S’just a drink, don’t be so sensitive.”

“I’m sensitive because you’re annoying.”

“No, you’re sensitive because you’re wound up,” he retorts, eyeing you closely. It makes your skin crawl. “When’s the last time you got off, Tink?”

The inquiry makes you step back, almost as though trying to avoid his judgment. “None of your business.”

“So…couple weeks ago? In the closet, with me?” He clicks his tongue in disappointment. “That’s a long fucking time, Princess. No wonder you’re so uptight.”

Your mouth drops open, ready to scoff your resentment and perhaps a quippy remark before he suddenly steps forward and lowers his voice.

“Bet it’s achy, huh?” he coos, and the slight air condescension and sympathy makes your head spin. “Bet you hump your little pillow every night trying to get it done, yeah? But it never works, does it?”

Stunned and left without much remark, your lashes flutter.

He moves closer. “See, if we were friends…I’d offer to take you into the bathroom and help you out. But since you think you can do better…go ahead.”

He leans back while you gape at him. “I’m sorry…go ahead and do what?”

“Find someone,” he answers, glancing around the packed bar. “Take ‘em into the bathroom and let them bend you over the sink.”

“You can’t be serious—”

“Why not?” His eyebrow raises. “That’s the whole reason people come to bars. To get drunk and fuck.”

“Well…that’s not why I’m here.”

“It could be.”

“Harry…no—”

“Why? Seriously, why not? You need it.”

“I don’t…you’re so fucking rude, I don’t need to get off—”

“Coming is good for your health. And for your unfavorable attitude—”

“Oh, you are so fucking—”

“Rude? Annoying? Doesn’t make me any less right.”

You clamp your mouth shut and step closer, letting your gaze travel the expanse of his face. “Come on, Harry,” you murmur softly – salaciously – as his breath seems to catch. “Do you really think…you could watch me with some other guy?”

His expression twists, his mouth already forming around something else snappy and crude.

But it seems to get stuck on his tongue when you suddenly reach out and trail your fingers down his chest. Moving in until there’s only a single breath between you.

“Do you really think…you could watch me touch them?” you whisper, glancing down to your hand as it grazes over his pec. “Or know that they had me dripping down their cock…the way I always drip for you?”

He wants to fight you. Wants to snort and look away.

But he doesn’t. He can’t. He’s mesmerized by the power you so easily stole from him. Undone by the sound of your voice taunting him with an idea he can’t seem to stomach.

“Wanna know I’m whimpering their name the way I always whimper yours?” you continue, smoothing your other palm up the back of his neck. Squeezing just hard enough to make him straighten up. “Wanna see the marks on my throat from where they held me—”

“Easy,” he warns lowly, reaching up to snatch your wrist. But he doesn’t move you. “Not here—”

“Why?” You push up onto your tiptoes and let your lips ghost over his. “Who’s gonna see, hm? Who’s gonna care?”

His lashes flutter, eyes traveling down to your mouth. “Are you this desperate for it, Princess? Wanna fuck me right here in the middle of the bar? Make them watch?”

You smile, head tilting until the tip of your nose dances across his cheek. “Maybe,” you nearly purr. “Bet you like to be watched. You always like watching me.”

And maybe he knows you’re merely playing a game. Teasing him just to throw him off track and test his patience.

But he plays along, eager to see where it might lead. “Can’t help it,” he replies calmly, smirking himself. “Y’just always look so pretty when you’re three fingers deep in your cunt.”

“Yeah?” Your nails scratch at the soft curls near the nape of his neck. “Funny how I can make myself squirt better than you can.”

He exhales a rather sadistic chuckle while his arm reaches to loop around your waist, pulling your chest flush with his. “I wasn’t trying to make you squirt.”

“No?”

His head shakes once. “No. Trust me, Tink. If I wanted to…I would.”

“Then maybe you should.”

His lips part just enough to tease you with a taste. “Maybe I will.”

“Yeah? Right here? In front of everybody?”

Another grin. “I could. Be so fucking easy, too. Bend you over the bar, pull your soaked little panties down…spread you open so they can see how much of a dirty little cumslut you are.”

And perhaps this started as a ruse, but just the thought and the tantalizing way he speaks breeds a new inspiration.

“Cause you are, aren’t you?” he asks quietly, large hand pressing hard against your spine. “My dirty, fucking Princess? Get all wet and weepy from just a couple words?”

You swallow a whimper trying desperately to come free.

“Should I check?” he whispers, now subtly moving you over until your back meets the counter. “Hm? See if you’re as wound up as I think you are?”

You rifle through your list of responses but find that you have none to offer as his fingers delicately begin to trace the edge of your jeans. Provoking you further.

You reckon you should probably stop him. Point out what an idiotic idea this is and remind him that he’s still very much in public, surrounded by people.

But his body blocks you from most of the crowd, and nobody else is close enough to notice. And you suppose that even if they did look over, they wouldn’t exactly be able to see or understand.

His eyes flick to yours, looking for hesitation. But when he finds none, the corner of his mouth twitches up into a pleased smile.

“Dirty Princess,” he teases, sliding his hand into your pants as subtly as he can while you quickly glance around for prying eyes. “That’s right, Tink. Look at them.”

 The feel of his cold fingers against your warm skin is like ecstasy, sending a rush of adrenaline straight down to your toes.

You gasp quietly to mask a whine, vision going hazy as you watch him study you. 

“Oh, sweetie,” he tsks, smoothing his touch through your folds. Spreading and stroking as you reel. “Poor fucking thing. Did’ya get yourself all wet for me?”

“No,” you manage to reply, heart hammering against your rib cage when he smirks. “I was watching TikTok’s of Andrew Garfield earlier. This is for him.”

“Ah,” he hums, but he’s wildly amused, hand still cupping you gently before he swiftly pulls out and leaves you to wilt. “Well, in that case…”

He steps away, fingers tucked between his lips as he pretends to turn around.

However, before he can get far, you manage to capture a fistful of his shirt and yank him back to you. 

And you kiss him. Without reluctance or fear. You kiss him, and you sigh against his mouth, and swallow his surprised but greedy moan.

His hands are on your hips, squeezing and pulling, desperate to tug you further into his frame. 

You go willingly, becoming pliable in his hands. A few people cheer from beside you, raising their glasses and whistling like drunken animals. 

But it makes you both smile, suddenly unencumbered by the ideas of what people might think or who might see.

And it’s strange to feel so at peace in his arms. Unnatural almost to find relief in his lips or safety in his presence. Because this is still the same Harry that would let you drown before he jumped in after you. That would rather tell you off than tell you he likes you – even as an acquaintance. 

You’re not enemies, per se. You imagine you’re both too old for such childish rivalries. But he’s cruel and rude and blunt. His ego rivals the size of the moon, and his lack of care and inhibitions is proof that he could never be who you’d need him to be.

But that’s okay, you realize. You find serenity in the sadistic, strange behavior. Because it means you don’t have to commit to giving him anything more than what he deserves.

His tongue leaves a quick lick to yours before he pulls back and studies you from behind the dark frames of his glasses. “I need to fuck you.”

And you almost laugh at the frank way he speaks. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” His palm slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing it one, twice, three times. “Meet me in the bathroom.”

“Ew, no. I’m not fucking you in a crusty ass bathroom in a sketchy bar,” you retaliate with a scrunch of your nose. “Pick somewhere else.”

“There isn’t anywhere else,” he huffs. “Unless you really do want me to fuck right here in front of everybody.”

“That’s not funny.”

“M’not trying to be funny. I’m trying to fuck you.”

“Well…try harder.”

His eyes narrow. “Fine, you wanna fuck me on my bike?”

You blink. “Okay, that’s really not funny.”

“What?” He’s grinning again, and you hate the way his dimples pop out. Hate how charming they make him look. “Come on, I ride the bike, you ride me.”

You snort as you turn around to take a sip of your drink. “I’d rather get herpes.”

“Wow. Classy. Real fucking classy—”

“Admit it, you’ve had it before—”

“Oh, fuck you—”

“Well, you can’t. Remember?”

He scoffs. “Then where the fuck do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. Literally anywhere else?”

“Well, I’m not taking you back to mine.”

“No? You don’t want me to see the bridge you live under?”

“Troll jokes. Funny.”

“Thank you, I thought so. It’s very fitting.”

His expression falls flat before he sighs and steps closer again. “Meet me in the fucking bathroom,” he repeats quietly, “and let me fuck you. Let me make it better.”

You want to remind him – again – that a dirty bathroom in a crowded bar isn’t exactly the best place. You’d never get a moment of privacy, and the position would most likely be wildly uncomfortable.

But suddenly, none of your reasons seem to matter. Because it hurts to be away from him. Actually aches between your thighs, forcing you to swallow thickly.

So, instead of responding with an actual answer, you simply take his hand, and drag him through the crowd.

You catch his smug smile – and resist the urge to slap the glasses off his face – before yanking him into the hall and toward the bathroom.

You both stumble through the door, already back on each other’s lips. Kissing, and groping, and groaning as you work to get the lock flipped.

You pause for only a moment to make sure the single stall restroom is in fact empty while Harry uses this as encouragement to begin nipping down the side of your neck. 

Your nails scratch down his scalp and he moans against the heat of your skin, exhaling his relief and lust all in the same breath.

His touch is firm – pointed and almost painful – as he pushes you back toward the wall. You gasp when you meet the cold, hard cement, lashes fluttering from the force and the sound of his belt coming undone.

He nods his chin at you, entertained by your fascination. “Come on, Princess. You’ve seen my cock before.”

“Just shut up and fuck me,” you murmur, swallowing thickly when he pulls himself out. “Before I change my mind and find somebody else."

He scoffs with a smile. “I’d like to see you try.”

He gives himself a few pumps, growing harder in his palm before he lets go and moves his attention to your jeans. He’s got them down your legs and pooled around your ankles in under thirty seconds flat, your panties soon following suit.

But he teases you for just a moment. Because of course he does, the sadistic fucker. Needing to hear you beg for him before he actually gives you what you both want.

“Harry,” you huff, glancing down as he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “We don’t have time, and the floor is dirty. Just do it.”

“Just do it? How romantic,” he snorts before obliging and straightening back up. “Thought girls liked foreplay.”

“We do, but not in gross, dirty bathrooms.”

“Fine. Next time.”

And for some reason, the casual way he refers to the future makes your head spin. You always assume the two of you will continue from time to time. But hearing him promise to take care of you again…

It’s almost…nice? 

Pushing the thought aside, you begin to turn around, hands pressing into the wall to brace yourself in preparation for what comes next.

But just as you’re getting comfortable, he suddenly grabs onto your hips, and spins you forward once again.

“No,” he murmurs softly, pretty green eyes trailing down your face. “No, I wanna see you this time.”

“Oh,” you whisper, skin growing hot as he steps between your legs. “Okay…?”

He grins lightly before reaching up to trail his thumb along your bottom lip. “I like watching you get all sappy when I fuck you. The way you grin when it feels good.”

Suddenly, your pulse starts to stagger. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like your smile.”

You suck in quiet breath. “I thought it creeped you out. That I had too many teeth.”

He chuckles to himself before taking hold of his cock and bringing it closer, trailing it between your legs. “You do. But that’s what makes you so beautiful.”

You think he must be out of his mind. Lost on the idea of sex and pleasure and SnakeBite’s. Tipsy and not all there. Because the Harry you know would never say something like that to you.

But you suppose you don’t really know Harry at all.

With that final thought, he hoists your leg over his hip, and begins to push in. It’s slow at first. You’re tense from the surroundings, from the loud sounds of the bar just on the other side of the wall, and from his admission.

But he loves it, cursing through gritted teeth before surging forward to kiss you. “Tink, you gotta fucking relax. Y’know I can’t do it if you don’t let me in.”

“Try…trying,” you pant, head falling back against the wall with a thud. “Sorry. Just go.”

He frowns, eyes rolling as his glasses begin to slip down the bridge of his nose. “M’not gonna go if you’re not stretched, Princess. I’m not trying to hurt you—”

“I don’t care,” you argue with a soft whine. “Really, I don’t care. Just go. Make it hurt.”

He releases your leg to slip his fingers just below your jaw, forcing your eyes on him. “Stop. M’not gonna do that, just relax.”

“I’m trying—”

“Try harder,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your mouth. “Come on, sweetie. Know you can do it. Know you always take me so well, don’t you?”

You nod fervently. “Yes…yeah, yes—”

“Then take me,” he whispers, his free fingers finding your clit. He rubs, and presses, and pinches until he feels you begin to unwind. “There you go…there she is, that’s my girl. S’better, isn’t it? Yeah? Gonna let me in now?”

You can’t exactly speak, already lost in the pleasure and the fullness his thick cock provides as it pushes past your walls and settles nearly in your belly.

The sound you make is depraved and eager, and it makes him smile. “That good, huh? So fucking cute how cockdrunk you get.”

“Shut…up,” you huff before reaching for his hair. “Faster.”

“Faster,” he repeats to himself, hips pulling back just to snap forward. “Always want it fast, don’t you? Never want me to take my time.”

“Cause I don’t want your dick in me longer than it needs to be,” you retort, but you both know that’s not true. “Fucking hurry—”

With a sharp and sudden thrust, he changes the pace. Obeying your command for fast and hard as your bodies shake with pleasure and force. 

And you imagine it should feel quite strange to be so enamored by one man – one cock. But here you are, panting, and gasping, and whimpering as he fucks you against this bathroom wall. Ignoring the pounding of the fists against the door from people wanting to be let in.

He kisses you. Kisses all of you. Your lips, your cheek, your chin, your nose, your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Tugs on your skin with his teeth before flattening his tongue against the tortured flesh. 

His hand dances underneath your shirt. Palm smoothing up your stomach and over the cup of your bra. Slipping just far enough inside to knead you in his grasp. Make you whimper and push closer.

And he’s so warm. All of him is warm and soft and strong. He smells like mahogany and sex, and he feels like ecstasy.

You love his hands. The veins in his arms, the bulge of his muscles. The tan of his skin and the way he holds you. 

He might be infuriating, but my god is he fun to look at. 

“Fucking shit,” he snaps, readjusting his angle to make sure he’s fucking into you just right. “So fucking good, Tink. You’re shaking, sweetie. You close already?”

You can’t respond with words, instead clenching around him in an effort to prove his point.

He smirks, quickly reaching up to push his glasses back into place. “Good. Want you to come all over my cock, baby. Want you to soak me. Can y’do that for me, Princess? Can you soak my cock?”

You think you know what he means, but truth be told, you aren’t sure if you can. You’ve only done it twice before – by your own hand, not his – and you wonder if you’d even be able to like this.

But the question is answered for you when he moves just enough to find that sweet, spongy spot that unravels you faster than lightning. 

He hits it over and over and over – perhaps without even realizing – and when you suddenly begin to cry out his name…he understands.

He watches as it happens, aiding in your pleasure by spitting on his fingers and bringing them down to your clit. 

The ministrations are ruthless and beautiful, and it almost distracts you from the gushing between your legs, and the way you soak his thighs.

“Shit,” you think you hear him groan, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. “So fucking good, Tink. Yeah, just like that. That’s good, baby, keep going. Give me all of it. Fucking all of it, sweetie, yeah.”

And just before you can go sliding down the wall out of pure exhaustion…he follows. Pressing his chest into yours to keep you upright as he spills inside your pussy, creating a bigger mess than before. 

Everything is wet and sticky and warm. He’s breathing into your neck, holding onto your body so tight, you imagine you’ll see memories of him tomorrow. 

And you stay, just for a moment. Learning how to take in air again and waiting for the feeling to return to your muscles.

“You okay?” he finally asks, exhaling the question into the sweaty skin of your throat. “Didn’t break you, did I?”

Your smile is lazy as you shake your head. “It would take a lot more than you to break me.”

And he laughs. In the kind of way that makes you clench around him again.

Which only makes him laugh harder.

“I fucking hope so.”

Next Part:

~ Jealous*

Previous Part:

~ Off the Shelf*

~ Full 404 Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @daphnesutton

[isattt]

Part 1 - Warning: Suicide mention.

Tags: Haunted house, anypov (?), yandere level: low. Theme: romance, spooky? (Not that much) Words: 1500 (~7 minutes)

next >>

You stared at your phone, looking incredulously at the screen. The apartment was dirt cheap and thirty minutes from the university you attended. This really can’t be real... there had to be a catch, you knew that meant for sure there was something wrong with it, but as you eyed the price again, you just couldn’t bring yourself to let this opportunity pass, not after looking for so long.

When you first visited, the place appeared abandoned, with cobwebs and covered in a thin layer of dust. The landlord, a formal-looking man, reassured you that all appliances, despite the old appearance, were working perfectly.

“And well, if you need anything fixed, I will do it for you in a heartbeat, alright?” The man says, with a wide charming smile on his face, “Don’t be shy to come to me.” He says, patting away the dust from the top of the microwave.

You eyed the place, your eyes landing back to his. “If you don’t mind me asking... Why is it so cheap?” You ask, noticing the dust covered hoops with half made embroideries of delicate flowers, maybe someone old who passed away...? you think to yourself.

“Heh...” He says, with a humorlessly chuckle to himself, his smile quickly faltering “Well... a guy… he… you know...” He says with a slight tremble to his voice, rubbing his arm nervously “Sorry... It’s hard even thinking about it... I wish I could have done more...”

Your eyes widened slightly, quickly acknowledging what he was trying to say. You looked at him with a sympathetic gaze, taking his words in “Oh, I’m so sorry I… I didn’t realize.“  

“It’s alright, pal.” He says reassuringly, putting on a braver front. “I’m actually more worried about you now, you know? You alright with that?” He walks closer, carefully putting a hand on your shoulder. “Things like these make folks uncomfortable. I myself wouldn’t be able to do it.“

You stare at him, before looking away “Well... it’s pretty disturbing, obviously...-”, you say with a sigh “-but I really need it so...”

“I get you, I do,” He nods. “Hopefully, I can make you feel at home. Call my number if you need something, anything, alright? I really am not kidding,” He furrowed his brows, looking at the piles of hoops with a pensive look “So-” He suddenly clasps his hands together putting on a weaker smile than before “-when you move in it will be all cleaned up, I got you”

You mirrored his small smile with one of your own. “Thanks, Will.”

It’s been one week since you have moved in and you have settled in nicely. William did a good job cleaning everything. When you came back, it was almost like you stepped into a completely different place. Even the air of the place was new and lighter, even if still slightly cold.

Ever since then, nothing unusual has happened. You spend your days the same as any other day, just now in a smaller home than before.

Well, almost nothing unusual. The house was always chilly, making weird noises from time to time, and you often had nightmares about a tall man just standing at the foot of your bed, watching you sleep. But you would not let your paranoia drive you away from the best apartment you’ve found after almost a month of searching. Ghosts, demons, and such didn’t exist, after all. When the semester starts, it will be all worth it, you repeat to yourself, trying to find some solace in this situation.

Once you got home that evening after going out to buy your groceries, you noticed an odd recent addition to your wall, just by the entrance, a CO2 meter. Did William install it while you were gone? It was odd though, you never thought he would be the type of landlord to just enter your place uninvited. It was unlike him to invade your privacy.

You decide to take out your phone. Looking at the contacts, you send a quick message to him, trying to understand his intentions. Could it be something that was scheduled that I didn’t know about?  You thought to yourself as you typed your message, “Hey will, what’s up with the CO2 meter?” You hit send, putting your phone aside for a moment on the counter to unload your groceries.

“CO2 meter?” the screen lights up with his reply. You quickly pick your phone back up to reply, “The one you installed?” you furrow your brows, staring at his text with a confused look. Did he forget?  You keep staring at your screen, anxiously waiting for a reply... 

“I didn’t install a CO2 meter.”

“Is everything okay? Do you need me to come over??”

You suddenly feel the familiar cold from the apartment enveloping your body, making you shiver slightly. What could this even mean for you? Would someone really break inside your place only to put something like this and nothing else...? You for sure needed to take that thing down at least It might be a hidden camera or something.

“I don’t know, to be honest.” You reply to him.

“I looked at the cameras in the hallway for you, but I found nothing, pal.” He said, fixing his glasses on his nose with one hand.

William was sitting at your table, sipping on the cup of tea you had given him. He arrived not much later after your text, coming immediately to check on you. “It’s too damn bad I can’t be more helpful here. Even the cameras on the outside found nothing unusual.” He says, taking another sip of his tea.

You were leaning against the wall, staring at him while holding your own cup of tea, the warmth of the liquid providing you a sliver of comfort in this situation. “It’s okay... this is already better news than I expected,” you say as you shift your weight onto your other leg. “Maybe it was always there and, ugh, I don’t know, maybe I didn’t notice it before.” 

“Well... hah...” He brought the cup to his lips, hesitating before taking a drink of the hot liquid. “I noticed something though...” He continues, “It’s nothing horrible, I mean… It’s just... well, you can see for yourself” He lowered his cup to the table, bringing his phone out of his pocket.

You sit down in the chair by his side, dragging the chair closer to him. When your shoulders touch, William flinches slightly, but keeps the phone in place. You look between his eyes and the screen with a curious look.

The screen of his phone showed you the camera feed of your hallway. The timestamp showed it was around noon, a few hours before you found the CO2 meter on your wall. It was empty, no one coming or going. 

“Around here,” William said, forwarding the video. Nothing changed, still the same empty hallway. Before you could ask him what he had seen, the feed showed your door opening. No one came out, of course. You weren’t at home.

Then… the door closed by itself, the same way it had opened.

“What...” you muttered, staring at the screen with wide eyes. “But I locked the door...”

“I imagined you did.” He looks at you, an uncertain look on his face. “What do you think of setting cameras inside here? I could lend you one of mine.”

“Maybe...” you say, still shaken by what you had seen. You feel the chilly atmosphere of the house again, creeping up your spine. “I wasn’t so much worried about the meter anymore, but this is something else.”

He leans back against his chair, creating some distance between you two as he puts his phone away. “Look, I’m not trying to imply anything, but these sorts of things have been happening all the time. Folks come here, these things happen... they leave.”

He grabs the cup once again, running his finger over the rim of the cup. “I am not one to believe in ghosts, but…”

“If these things exist, at least the fella who is haunting you is the least dangerous ghost you could have, hm?” He says with a small smile, a wistful look on his face.

You raise an eyebrow at his statement, while he could be right, it’s hard to believe, given your circumstances “Well, he is still creeping me out, even if that’s the case...” You say harshly, suddenly feeling the cold air of the room leaving.

He nods understandingly “Mhm, I can understand,” he pauses, emptying his cup of now lukewarm tea and standing up to put the cup on the sink “I don’t know why, but it’s been a lot more active with you than with everyone else... when you sat close to me just now, I felt like someone was staring daggers at me! Hahaha!”

He finishes washing his own cup, walking to stand in front of you. “If you see him, tell him I miss his nerdy ass!” he says, grinning widely. “Let’s just install those cameras so you can sleep easy at night, alright?”

[fakesimp]

Hello!!! Can you do any angst/comfort with Shu or Mysta? I'm craving for comfort (⁠｡⁠ﾉ⁠ω⁠＼⁠｡⁠), Also welcome back (if you were gone?) [Sorry for my poor english!!(⁠´⁠;⁠︵⁠;⁠`⁠)]

"Come, and rest with me.." , With Shu Yamino , Mysta Rias

Warning !

Fluff ; Hurt/Comfort ; Mentions of Kissing ; Mentions of Overworking ; Established Relationship

A/n !

Why choose one when I can do both--. Also, Apologies in advance if Mysta's ooc ! I tried my best to write for him (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠)

And thank you for the welcome back ! Haha, I was taking a little break due to my writing block i had.

And worry not ! I understand you very well anon <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>

➶◜◝➴

Shu Yamino

He, himself is already have a pretty messed up sleeping schedule. He doesn't want his lover also following his steps, but as much as he wants to tell you to rest, he often end up reflecting upon himself. It made him frowned for a moment, and because of that it took him quite awhile for him to finally confront you about your state, he is worried about you and your health after all.

He have seen you working through late nights, and barely getting any brink of sleep, there are also time when you didn't go to sleep at all. And it made him worry about you much more, even concerned. He had been trying to confront you about it, but he doesn't know how to say it without sounding rude. It took him almost a few days to courage himself to finally spoke up to you about it.

And today is the day,

He knocked on your door, you were working on some papers on the table. "Babe??" He called out behind the door, "Yeah?" You replied a bit loud. Face still on the paper in front you, you then heard the door getting twisted gently by the hand of your Beloved Sorcerer.

"Hey, babe.. You're still not done?" He slowly approached you, "It's, pretty late y'know.." he said as he look at the clock on the wall in your room. After he mentioned it, you also look over at the clock. That tells you it's already, 2 am.

You blinked and look down on the messy papers that's spread out on the floor, "It's, that, late already??" You said not realizing how late it is. "Hmm, I, need to finish this in a bit. You can--" "Babe, I don't want to sound rude, but, y'know, i noticed you have barely take enough sleep" he cuts you off in the middle of your sentence, you stared at him in awe.

"I know I, have a pretty messy sleeping schedule myself, but I am willing to fix it. Together, y'know?" He shyly said as he unconsciously fiddling with his hands before scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, "Shu.." you whispered and slowly stood up and approached him.

You wrapped your arms around him, you feel bad about not taking care of yourself properly, you also feel bad for not being able to take care of him too.

Both of you are in a messy state, and you know very well that both of you need to fix this.

"So, babe.. Come, and rest with me.."

His gentle hands moved to your cheek, gently rubbing his thumb along. Smiling down at you, he leaned and kisses you on the lips. "Well?" He whispered, expecting an answer from you.

What will you say to this unintentionally pleading Sorcerer?

You won't decline his request do you?

Mysta Rias

"You can go first Mysta, I'll join you later"

That's what you said, and he actually did go to bed first, expecting you to be there when he woke up either in the morning or in the middle of the night. Seeing your figure sleeping peacefully next to him, oh, how wrong he was.

Later that night, He woke up, only to see an empty side of the bed. He expected you to lay there with him, but no. You're not there, he groggily grabbed his phone and check the time. "What the.." his brows furrowed as he stare at the time on his phone for another minute, he then frowned, staring at the ceiling before letting out a small sigh.

He slowly rise up from the bed and went to where he could think where you're at, and you're exactly at where he expected you to be. He opened the door, and leaned against the door frame, staring at you in silence. "How, long are you going to sit there?" He announced himself by asking the question, making you slightly jump from your seat, "I thought you're going to join me a few hours ago." He continued as he slowly approached you.

"You know you can continue it in the morning right," he trailed off as he look over to see what you're working at, "I also noticed how you've barely getting any sleep nowadays babe." He continued as he look at you, worried. "You need a rest too, come on now." He said as he gently pull your hand, "Come, and rest with me.."

You sighed in defeat, he's right, you have been putting up all nighters the past few days trying to finish the work. You've barely getting any sleep, and you can bet yourself the moment your head hit the pillow you're going to pass out.

"Babe?" He called you as he held your hand a bit tighter, you can hear the worry in his voice, "Yeah, sorry-" you trailed off, "I'm sorry, for, making you worried." You apologized, making him slightly taken aback by it. "Why are you apologizing, there's nothing for you to apologize for.." he said as he then slowly wrapping his arms around you, you both stayed like that for a while before he decided to pull away.

He look at you for a moment, and then within seconds he pecked your lips, he immediately look away, flustered at what he just did. "N-now come on, let's go to bed"

You chuckled softly and walked together with him to your shared bedroom, "Cutie" "Shush.."

What a cute detective you have..

©fakesimp . 2023

A/n !

Here you go ! Hope you like this ! I tried writing for Mysta, I don't know if that's good enough-

But i hope you enjoy this anon (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠)

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Car Problems and What Causes Them

Summary: The Flynn-Fletcher family car has been through a lot.  Honestly, it's surprising it didn't start acting up sooner.

…

“I just don’t understand why it’s suddenly needing so much work,” Mom was saying as Candace stumbled into the kitchen for breakfast.  She was definitely not ready for a school year sleep schedule.  Plus, with all of the last days of summer she had to deal with, she needed weeks to recover from how exhausted she was, weeks she did not have.

She wandered over to the table and dropped her head on it with a groan.

Phineas gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from his spot sitting up bright and chipper next to her.

“Do you remember anything that happened to it that I’m not thinking of?” Mom asked.  “Oh and here, Candace.”

Candace pulled her head up to see mom putting a bowl of cereal on the table in front of her, and she grumbled what thanks she could manage.

“I think you drove it around more often than I did this summer love,” Dad said.  “It’ll be all right, we can afford it.”

“We can, I just want to know where all the problems came from so we don’t do whatever it was again,” Mom said.  “If we can help it.”

“Wha’s goin’ on?” Candace mumbled, taking her first bite of cereal.

“Oh my car is acting up,” Mom said.  “I don’t understand why, I mostly used it to run errands throughout the summer.”

Candace yawned.  “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure it was dropped from the sky a couple times,” she said.  “Plus that time it went out of control and we drove it into the sky.  And that time Phineas and Ferb turned it into a race car to win a race.  And when they made it a monster truck so I could practice parallel parking.  And that one time it was launched into space—”

“Oh Candace, please,” Mom said, pressing her hand to her forehead.  “I’m trying to actually figure this out here.”

“What?  You were even there for one of those.”

“Actually Candace made some good points there Mom,” Phineas said, and Ferb nodded in agreement next to him.  “We kind of put it through a lot this summer, it’s held up pretty well considering.  Do you want us to fix it for you?”

“I absolutely do not want you touching my car,” Mom said, raising her eyebrow at them.  “I’m going to call our regular auto place while you three are at school.”

“It’ll be cheaper and faster and turn out better if you let them do it,” Candace mumbled, taking another bite of cereal.

“Candace,” Mom said, crossing her arms.

“I’m just saying.”

“Alright, that’s enough.  You three get going, you don’t want to risk being late for school.  I’ll have the car fixed by the time you get back so we can still go out to dinner.”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to do it, Mom?” Phineas asked.  “We could probably do it in an hour after we get home from school.”

“Oh for Pete’s sake, not you two too,” Mom said.  “Just go on and get ready.”

“Okay, if you say so,” Phineas said.

Candace, resigned to her fate, took another few bites of cereal and climbed up to go get dressed.

“It’s really strange that she’d rather pay money than just let us fix the car,” Phineas said to Candace as they all started for the steps.  “Especially because we’re kind of why it’s been through so much.  I feel bad.”

“She doesn’t think you can do it, genius,” Candace said, rubbing her hands over her face to try and wake herself up.  “She thinks you’re joking.”

“What?  That’s not what I sound like when I’m joking,” Phineas said, giving her a confused look.

“You’re telling me,” Candace said, rolling her eyes.

“Well either way, we need to do a better job of taking care of the car the next time we need it for an invention,” Phineas said, glancing over at Ferb as they started up the steps.  “Mom shouldn’t have to get a new one before she wants to.”

“You could also go fix it right now,” Candace said.  “I know you were giving yourself extra time on that hour estimate.”

“What?  Mom told us not to,” Phineas said.

“Mom. Doesn’t think. You can do it,” Candace emphasized.  “She thinks you’re a couple of dumb kids who don’t have the first clue how to fix a car.”

“What are you talking about?” Phineas asked, turning to Candace as they reached the top of the steps.  “Mom knows the kind of stuff we do every day.”

Candace snorted.  “I wish,” she muttered, heading towards the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Not even a minute had passed, however, before Phineas showed up at the door again.  “I don’t want to do something that Mom told us not to do,” Phineas said.

Candace sighed and spit out the toothpaste in her mouth.  “Then don’t.  Let her spend the money when she doesn’t need to.”

She glanced over at Phineas, not sure what exactly she was expecting to see.  But she definitely wasn’t expecting to see him standing at the doorway looking really uncomfortable.

“Phineas?” she asked, setting the toothbrush down.  “What is it?”

“We always ask Mom for permission for inventions when it involves changing the car or the house or something of ours,” he said, fidgeting with his hands.  “Does she think we’re joking?”

Candace blinked.  “What?”

“Did we mess up her car without permission?” Phineas asked, suddenly looking very worried.  “Candace, I don’t want to do that!”

“Wait,” Candace said, turning to face him.  “You thought when you asked Mom if you could use the car to race she understood that you meant soup up her actual car to run on a remote?”

“She didn’t?” Phineas asked, looking almost distressed now.

“No?  Why would she?”

“Because that’s the kind of thing we do!” Phineas said, like it should be obvious.

Candace stared at him for a second.  “Phineas,” she said slowly.  “Mom doesn’t think you can actually do that stuff.”

“What do you mean Mom doesn’t think we can actually do that stuff?”

“Why do you think I try to show her?”

“I— I don’t know!  I thought—” Phineas put his hands over his mouth.  “We used the car without asking and then we broke it,” he whispered, sounding horrified.

Candace stared at him for a second.  He sounded really upset.  The kid could break the boundaries of time and space and this is what got to him?

“Phineas,” she said slowly.  “It’s okay.”

“But—” he started.

“Hey,” Candace said, taking a step forward.  “You didn’t do anything you can’t fix.  Mom’s the one who isn’t letting you.”

“But it was our fault,” Phineas said weakly.

“Some of it was mine,” Candace muttered, rubbing the back of her neck.  “And I can’t do anything about what I did, even if I wanted to.”

“Still,” Phineas said, looking down.  He clearly felt awful, and Candace was suddenly very conflicted.  She’d never considered that Phineas thought Mom was okay with the stuff they did.  Would he even have done half the things he had last summer if he knew how Mom would have actually felt about them?  That would have made Candace’s life a million times easier.

But Phineas clearly wasn’t happy with this realization, and Candace didn’t love that look on his face either.

Finally, after a second, she sighed.  “Oh, I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she muttered.

Phineas glanced up at her.  “What?”

“Go get Ferb and fix the car,” Candace said, herding Phineas back out of the bathroom.  “I’ll distract Mom.”

“But Mom told us not to—”

“You already broke it, and you clearly aren’t going to feel better until you fix it,” Candace said, stopping at Phineas and Ferb’s bedroom door.  “Go on, I know how to keep Mom busy.”

Phineas gave her a grateful smile.  “Thanks, Candace.”

Candace gave an exhausted mini-salute and headed back for the stairs.  “MOM!” she screamed.  “I TOTALLY NEED YOUR HELP PICKING A FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL OUTFIT!”

[hankwritten]

Enargeia

Day 3: CREATE (Texas Toast)

When they first joined BLU, Pyro thought it couldn’t get any better than this. New friends! Other new friends who they were allowed to set on fire! Basically all the rainbows they could manage without having to worry about that normal, everyday stuff like finding their next meal or stealing candy from convenience stores. Just work that they loved and a blank cheque to do it.

Yet, they can’t deny there’s something nice about living with Engie too. On weekends, those two long, bitter days when there’s no work at the battlefields and they have to entertain themself by lighting up in the pits or the fireplace (which Engie had specially installed for them since New Mexico homes don’t come with fireplaces), they actually find they’re alright with the concept of downtime. Something about Engie…he makes what would be boring simply…peaceful. Even on the rare occasion BLU gives them a holiday, and the painful two-days become excruciating three-days, they find they don’t mind so much as long as Engie is setting the schedule. He makes breakfast (eggs with bacon in a smiley face, or pancakes shaped like hearts) into an event. Going to sleep (which Pyro hates with a passion, will run themself ragged until four in the morning rather than lie down and try to make their brain go quiet) has become strictly regimented in an early-to-bed-early-to-rise sort of way. It’s actually shocking how much having a normal sleep schedule and regular meals will do for you.

That, plus having something non-work/non-fire related to set themself to, which isn’t really Engie’s doing but he was their inspiration. Between the moments spent with one another—be that meals or the much beloved story time—Engie occupies himself in his at-home workshop. Pyro watches from time to time, delighted how he loses himself in the not-quite-work-not-quite-hobby, enthralled with how things simply spring to existence under his palms.

The ranch is really to thank for their sudden fecundity. They were resistant, at first, when Miss Pauling “““encouraged””” them to move off-base and Engie kindly offered his home, but it fits them well. They want to make this place fit. They’ve even taken it upon themself to go fix up the old fence on the north side, and to learn enough engineering to tinker with the refrigerator since Engie keeps saying he’ll get to it but never does.

However, it’s not quite enough.

“I want to paint the side of the barn,” they tell Engie one day.

He looks up from the mini-dispenser that's been in development hell for months now. “Really? Sure it’s been a few years, but it’s not like it’s chippin’ yet.”

“Not as in painting all one color. As in paint something. Like a mural.” They glance out the window. “I want to make something. The way you do.”

“Hm,” Engie says. “I suppose I do have a couple of buckets lying ‘round the shop…”

They set to it that afternoon.

The buckets slop and occasionally spill with Pyro’s excitement, the brush thick with each swipe. They can feel the power of creation within them, and they begin to shape a sunrise on the barn’s bright and bare wall. Engie loans them a ladder, and stops by every hour or so, watching something beautiful come to be.

Pyro pours their heart and soul into it. They love until they have calluses through their gloves.

And when it’s done, it looks like utter shit.

“Oh I don’t think it’s that bad, darl,” Engie assures them.

“It’s hideous,” they mourn.

What was supposed to be a combination of yellows and oranges runs into the blue in a brown muck. The rainbow which they’ve thrown over the scene is wobbly and super crooked now that they step back.

“It looked so different in my head,” they say. “But when I tried to make it real it just came out all wrong.”

“Have you ever painted anything before, Py?”

“Well, no, but…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have started with something so big for your first ever project. Making things takes time, and a bit of practice. You start with a potato clock and work your way up to the wristwatch.”

“I’m just so tired of things not staying. When I make fire, it’s beautiful, but then it’s gone right away.” Their shoulders droop. “Sometimes it feels like destroying rather than creating.”

Engie thinks for a minute.

“Come to the workshop for a moment, darling. I wanna show you something.”

Dragging their feet, they follow him inside. The great space of the barn-turned workshop is warm despite its ravenousness, machines in low power mode gently beeping and throwing off heat. He guides them to one of the out of the way tables, clearing a space and rustling up a torchlike device from his piles of scrap.

“This here is a woodburner.”

“Anyone can be a wood burner.”

He chuckles. But then he guides their hands, showing them step by step how to work the small device, standing behind them while they carve a small unicorn out of a piece of wood using only a flame.

“It’s still ugly,” they complain.

“Sure is.” He sets the unicorn, which is just a mangled horse shape since Pyro accidentally chopped off the horn, on one of his tool shelves. “But now you’ve gone and given it a try. Now the next one you make will be a little better. And a little better after that.”

“That’s going to take so looonnngggg….”

“True. But I’ll be here keeping you company.”

That won’t be so bad then. They pick up the torch again, and as Engie settles in, they resolve to prove that fire can make just as well as it can unmake.

[jodilin65]

MONDAY, AUGUST 31, 1998 Oh, what an allergy attack! I just spent the last two hours cleaning all the animal’s cages, tubes, wheels, dishes, etc. I was sneezing so bad that I finally put my nose clips on. I hate it when I have an allergy attack so bad that a Benadryl would probably stop, but that would knock me out when I have something to do. If I took Benadryl, it’d stop my allergies, but it’d fuck up my schedule for tomorrow’s appointment with Melanie.

For the first time since meeting Melanie, I am not looking forward to seeing her. Not with how painful this ordeal has become now that there’s enough tooth for her to pull on. Does having braces for the usual reason hurt this much? Well, I’m not gonna bother finding out by having my bottom teeth done.

I hope that black lady isn’t in the room too, tomorrow. I mean, she’s nice and all that, but if I’m gonna have to suffer so bad, I should at least be able to have Melanie all to myself. Even so, I’m at the point right now where if I knew I could never see Melanie again - fine.

One of the bags of old sawdust ripped along its side, so I had to take it directly out to the dumpster, and as Tom had said before, our dumpster was gone. So I walked it just past the old man’s house across the street. There were two dumpsters there. There are also two just past where the guard dogs are. Maybe someone will drag one of them back where ours usually is if the city doesn’t. Or maybe we’ll call the city and see about getting one back there. There were a few bags of garbage on the ground where the dumpster usually is. Some lazy ass that probably lives next door threw it there.

I awoke at 115 pounds, and luckily, this is the second day in a row I shit. But can I do that again tomorrow for the third day in a row? Well, there’s this bean soup that Tom says bothers his stomach if he has a whole can, so we split a can every other day now, because he says it helps with duties.

I had Tom take my measurements because it’s been a while. Sure enough, and as I figured, I’m pretty much the same as I was a few months ago. My waist may have come in a little, though, and ma noticed I lost weight. I’m glad it turned out that I was right when I said I had vibes about leaving the 120s indefinitely. I still don’t see myself in the 120s, and I even vibe 117 pounds becoming a thing of the past. Yeah, I surprisingly am picking up vibes of dropping just under 115, but we’ll see. I haven’t really done it yet. If I do, I guess I’ll stay there for about 3 months before and if I drop some more. That seems to be the way it works for me these days. I spent a few months at around 124 pounds, then around 118 pounds.

Maybe this new diet plan can and will pay off. That is, as long as I shit fairly regularly. However, if I’m gonna be stuck every other day for the most part, or regularly go two days in a row without shitting, then forget it. Well, it’s up to God. I always did say that he controls our bodies for the most part. At least I can rock/sing conformably.

I just took a Benadryl and broke it in half and took a half. That way I’ll get drowsy, but it won’t knock me on my ass.

Tomorrow’s the big test. We took the frame off the bed to see if it’d make it more stable. I think it does. I can feel a little movement when he moves, but maybe, just maybe, I can be somewhat normal and sleep with my husband at least part-time. I figured that since big changes often need to be made in little steps, like with the Nicorette program, then maybe we could sleep together when it’s not important that I be on a certain schedule. This won’t fix his snoring, but we’ll see how it goes.

Later…

It’s nearly 10:30 now, which means that my allergy attack’s been going on for nearly 3 hours. So, I’ve put the nose clips back on and will just keep them on till I go to bed in about 8 hours.

I just called Lisa, since it’s been a while. She was happy to hear from me and sounded perky. I spoke to all the girls, and they’re not too thrilled about returning to school tomorrow. I told her to tell Tammy I called.

She asked me a few questions about Tammy. How long did she live in Texas? How long was she married to Dick the pilot, and with her father Joe? When did she leave Texas? What was her father’s last name? I think she left for Texas when I was 11 and returned when I was 18, but I don’t know exactly how long she was with Dick B or Joe D. I asked her why she didn’t ask Tammy about this. She said she didn’t have the guts. That’s strange. I thought she and Tammy had discussed this already.

Keeping the nose clips on is easier said than done. They get pretty uncomfortable.

Tom’s still the same old sexually. I got horny yesterday but couldn’t get him in the mood. Not even to go down on me. I knew that a part of it was how he loves to put me on hold as far as sex goes. What a bizarre form of teasing, huh? I didn’t say anything, though, because I knew he’d get off on my bitching about it just as much as he gets off on making me wait for sex when I ask for it or when we agree to it. He wouldn’t have touched me today if it weren’t Monday since he’s just hardly ever horny. He said he wanted to digest his food so that he’d have a choice on whether or not we screwed or he went down on me. I knew he’d opt to go down on me. Especially since he knew I was hornier than I had been in a while at one of our times to get together. So, he did go down on me and I got off. I didn’t get off too easily, but I did.

I’ve been making little comments lately, just to see if he’d go along with them as I suspected he would, like, “You get off most of the time,” and sure enough, he doesn’t say a word to deny it. He’ll always go along with this because it’s what he wants me to believe. He doesn’t want to have to deal with what may happen if he knew I knew the truth. Nothing would happen, but it just goes to prove that he would lie when it comes to sex or a kid and that it’d do me no good to get tested, because he’ll either keep totally quiet about his not cumming, or he’ll deny it, and I couldn’t get tested without his full, honest cooperation. I’m sure the testing is something that I’ll never do, though, any more than I’ll ever do the straightening of the bottom teeth. I probably could never get sure results without his cumming, although, since the sterility problem lies with me, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe they could find out what was wrong with me either way because if something’s wrong with me that they can find, they’re gonna find it whether or not he cums. It’s just that I don’t know if I really want to go through the hassle just for some info. Hell, I don’t know if I’d want to go through all this even if I still wanted a kid since it’s still not in my destiny to have a kid. Probably not even if I could handle it. For now, I’ll just keep my doors open and not say that I will or I won’t get tested.

It helps to have the walker by the computer. I was easily able to do my 30 minutes today and yesterday. It wasn’t too easy playing my tiles game, but it sure was great having Mary read me some files off the web.

One of the things I read up on (I saw on TV) was the case of these 17, 18, and 19-year-old boys who were charged with sexually mutilating and killing three 8-year-old boys in Arkansas. I was surprised to see how many people said they felt the boys were innocent of these killings, that there wasn’t enough evidence, and that the police were corrupt. Yeah, I know that pigs are sometimes desperate to pin a crime on anyone, but I think there was enough evidence and that the boys did it.

Speaking of pigs, the one across the street is moving. What new noise source will I have to deal with now? Hopefully none, with it being across the street. As long as I don’t get another bass-banging freeloader over there who doesn’t give a shit about anyone but itself.

I hope to hell that that freeloader next door stays right where it’s at till we move because my vibe about moving in June is weakening. Now I’m feeling it’ll be August when we move. Not only do I have to fear it doing something to the house if it splits first, but then it won’t be so easy to deliver my little journal excerpts. Also, if the next people owned the house, what am I gonna do when they start in with their noise? A good 90% of the population is not like the Mormons were, therefore, if I ask them to shut up, however kindly, they’ll just get pissed off and will either make just as much noise or more noise. Then only my fists will work because complaining to the city will do no good when they know they don’t have to fear/risk eviction.

Until Labor Day, all is still quiet around here. Someone picked up the bitch on Sunday, and Tom thinks she goes to church. How can someone like that go to church? Don’t they teach churchgoers to honor and respect their neighbors? To get along with them and not make trouble? Sounds like the church isn’t doing this little bitch any good.

I saw that the bitch’s dad was here at 6:30 this morning. Then I saw the bitch halfway down the driveway, looking impatiently down the street. God, do I want that bitch’s figure! At one point, she bent over for something on the driveway, exposing her ass (she had on a short dress). Anyway, a blue car that I think I’ve seen before pulled up. I don’t know who drives the thing, but the bitch didn’t give her kid to this car. The bitch herself, carrying a shirt on a hanger or something, got in the car and took off. Daddy was still there, and I figured he’d stay here and watch the kid all day while its daddy was in jail, or wherever, but daddy was gone when I did a 9:00 check. At 11:00, Daddy returned. I saw him in the carport, and it looked like it was bringing in some groceries.

What is it with this bitch? She’s got someone to drive her to work. Someone to watch her mistake. And now she’s getting her shopping done for her, too? Who died and made her the queen to be waited on and carted around like that?

Later…

Daddy’s still next door. I’ll do an hourly check, but I’ll bet you anything that at 4:00 or 5:00, the blue car will drop off the bitch, then bye, bye Daddy.

Boy, has this telemarketing company gotten pushy since I blocked one of their numbers. Your classic opposite-doers. Just like I knew asking Andy to come over sober would make him get more stoned, blocking out one number has gotten them to be all the more determined to call here on other numbers. They’re trying all the harder on other lines. Every now and then a sales call comes up with a number. I’ll just keep blocking each of their numbers till they run out of numbers to try to call from.

Later…

Fuck! I am so fucking pissed! I just can’t stop sneezing. Every time I chance removing these uncomfortable nose clips, I start sneezing again. Is there ever any end to this shit? My allergies have been really bad since quitting smoking, and again, I’m glad I’ll never be 100 pounds again. Not with the price I’d have to pay for it.

I cannot believe that I didn’t mention that Tweety did die after all. He died on the 24th, the day Tom went to Vegas. I put him in a small plastic bag that Dureen and Art gave me when they were here that was from the little clothing store they had had on Nettle’s Island. Yeah, I’m sure they’d appreciate knowing that I used their bag to put a dead bird in. Anyway, I stuck him in that and put him in the dumpster. Then I cleaned his cage and put it in the storage room out back. Now we have two birdcages, a wire cage, and a hoop stand. The cages will just sit in storage for now, but I’m sure I can use the hoop stand. Maybe I can get a fake plant to hang in it.

Later…

I absolutely don’t fucking believe it. Unfuckingbelievable! I’m up to 119 pounds now. How do you gain 4 pounds in one day? Especially when you’re not constipated, you’ve exercised, and you’ve been eating under 1000 calories a day? Eating 1000 calories a day is supposed to cause weight loss. I had hoped it’d keep me stable, but you mean to tell me I’m gonna gain from it? Shit, I could gain weight by not eating anything at all! What the fuck’s going on here?

Oh, just accept it and live with it, girl. You can’t do shit about it, anyway.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 30, 1998 So far, the weekend’s been the opposite of how next weekend will be. That means that this weekend has been peaceful so far.

Let’s see - still doing the sex twice a week. He’s getting in there, but still, neither of us cum. I cum just fine with the vibrator, but not with him lately. I’m not so sure as to why, but I have a few ideas. I’ll get into it later, though. It’s not his fault, I’ll say now. Yes, the lust flame has died out with time as it usually does, but there’s still plenty of love there, and I don’t see how he’s to blame for this at all.

I buffed my nails, and Tom’s, too. This is a technique I learned at Mansfield Beauty School. You file the surface of the nail, then put a drop of oil on the nail, then buff them. It makes them feel smooth and look shiny like you might have clear polish on them.

I moved the treadmill out of the music room and put it by my computer. That way, I can do even more than just read or listen to music when I walk. I can use Mary, the talker who’s been doing my proofreading for me, to read me files on the web, or whatever. I can also reach the mouse so I can play games, too.

Speaking of mice, Tom and I went to Best Buy on Friday and we picked up two different mice. One’s got a touchpad in it, and the other is like his new one. It’s got a wheel on it for scrolling, and a button I can program to hit once when I want to double-click. It can be used as a shortcut for hitting the enter key, plus lots of other things. Depends on what you use most, I guess. I’m using the one with the scroll wheel right now, as something’s wrong with the other one. It causes the computer to crash for some reason.

We also got a miniature golf game CD. It’s cool, although you’d think there’d be more courses for $30. It’s also very male-like. I can tell that by the theme and colors. We need more women doing graphics because unless they’re butchy, I’d think they’d do them up prettier.

Got Gloria’s new CD, and boy is it bad. There’s only one song on it I like.

We finally got Ratsy a new home, hoping it’d perk him up if he had a little more space, but most importantly, room for a bigger wheel. He was too big for the wheel he’d been using. So, Tom got him a 20-gallon aquarium like one of the ones the mice use. He also got him a wooden burrow that’s big enough for a GP. This aquarium, though, comes with a lid, of course.

Something up there is really, really determined to see that I don’t go under 115 pounds. I’m dead serious about this! I had really started to lose. Faster and more so than in quite a while, then I got stuck for two days. This really set me back, although I’m still down a pound or so. If I’m gonna keep on being stuck so often, then no diet, no matter how good it is, is gonna allow me to lose weight. You have to at least shit regularly if you’re gonna lose weight. Well, thank God not getting below 115 pounds isn’t the end of the world for me, because it’s definitely not where I’m going. As long as I stay under 120 pounds. That’s what’s important.

Friday, before going to Best Buy, we stopped at Ma’s house. When I say Ma’s house, I really mean Mary’s. She sure lost a lot of weight, and she sure is shaky. She has a very hard time standing, talking, and hearing. Her birthday was yesterday. She turned 75.

As a bonus, Evie and the kids were there when we went to see Ma. So I guess I don’t have to worry about getting together after all! We gave each other a big hug, then I finally got to meet my nephew Parker. His hair’s turning brown and he’s looking more like David. Seeing Nickolena was like seeing a whole new child. God has she grown! She’s just over half my height. She’s talking now too, and still has her ma’s red hair.

When I got back home and went to tell Evie how glad I was that I finally got to see them all on AOL, there was the sweetest message from her waiting for me.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 28, 1998 If I stood on the scale a certain way, I could get it to read 114½ pounds, but technically, I woke up at 115 pounds. Today’s a no-shit day, so I should be around 117 by bedtime. Maybe 118. Going from two TV dinners a day, mixed with graham crackers and popcorn, to one TV dinner a day, mixed with salad and popcorn, seems helpful so far in staying away from the 120s range.

Something’s not quite right with Ratsy. It’s not that I think he’s dying, it’s how he’s acting. It’s like he’s really bummed or something. He doesn’t stand up and beg for food constantly like he used to. I put lettuce in his cage for the first time today and he didn’t even touch it.

I don’t know what to do about Evie. All I know is that I’m sorry I started getting buddy-buddy with her online. She seems to have this fascination with me that I just don’t get. She really wants to get together with me. I’m afraid that if I do let her come over, she’s gonna push to do it again, and again, and again.

Tom said they’re notoriously late, and that the kids are totally wild. Yeah, even though Evie may be one of the very few good moms left in this world, discipline still went out seemingly in the 80s. I can see her being too lenient. That’s better than being the domineering bitch my mother was, but still. Even if I were to put all breakable stuff in a safe place, what’s to say they still won’t trash stuff that I can’t easily move out of the way, and topple over garbage and stuff like that? I realized that this wouldn’t be such a fun visit.

Later…

I left Evie a message and briefly explained that I’m a bit paranoid about home company but to please not take it personally. I told her I’ve always had a problem interacting with people, even if they’re people I love and trust, but that I still love her and her family and would like to continue keeping in touch online. I told her I’d keep my doors open in the future, and hopefully she’ll understand. Although I hope I don’t hurt her feelings, I didn’t want to keep stringing her along, but she’s gonna take the news however she’s gonna take it.

I spoke to Andy, who hates his job. He admits that it’s one thing to say he’s gonna keep his mouth shut and mind his own business, but another thing to do it. So, he said, if he gets fired from this job, it’s probably due to something he said. He says he’s thinking more and more about looking for a different line of work, maybe in the daytime, with wages he can depend on rather than tips, where there are fewer people to interact with, and with benefits. I hope he finds something he likes, whatever it is.

Andy waited on a guy that lives next door to Stevie.

Later…

I know why that bitch leaves an hour earlier nowadays. It’s because freeloader daddy isn’t coming to pick up God’s mistake, so she needs that extra time to cart the kid off to daycare herself. The question, though, is why isn’t he coming to get his mistake? Is it because he’s bailing out of his fatherly duties as most of them do, or is he in jail? Is he in detox or some kind of drug rehab? Did someone kill him?

THURSDAY, AUGUST 27, 1998 I took a dump today, so tomorrow I’ll be stuck.

Vegas is gonna put 6-8 pounds on me, but I’ve decided that that’s OK because there’s no way I’m gonna go there and be hungry all the time. I’ll probably come back at 124 pounds, so I’ll salad and walk my way back down to 118 pounds. At least I know I can do that much.

I had a bad allergy attack yesterday morning at around 5:00 and was forced to take a Benadryl and crash earlier than I’d have liked. Looks like today’s allergy attack is just revving up. Well, I’m gonna slap on the nose-pinchers that I use for swimming because I’ll be damned if I’m interrupted every 10 minutes with sneezing fits for hours. I ain’t taken a Benadryl to knock me on my ass. I need to push my schedule a little further around so I can be up for Friday morning.

Friday morning we’re gonna go see Ma. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her. Then, we’re gonna go do a little shopping. Go to the bookstore, and maybe see about a new mouse for me. One you use for the computer, I mean. I want a mouse like Tom’s. His has a wheel along the side for scrolling up and down scroll bars. It’s much more convenient. Also, there’s a button on the side that you just click once for icons, instead of double-clicking. Tom says it’s so much better.

Got a little booklet from Mom of sketches of children done by some artist who has a museum in Tucson. The sketches are boring. Even sloppy looking. But on the opposite page of each sketch, is a blank page. Well, instead of taking Journal 77 to Vegas, perhaps I’ll take this. It’s got 15 pages which oughta be enough.

Later…

Our lovely bitch next door and her daddy are here waiting on the baby daddy to come by so they can all go away for the day. Let’s see… I’m up to two door slams so far. So, one or two more is what I’m in for. Yesterday morning at this time, it threw something in its recycle bin that’s up against our house and not theirs and slammed the lid shut. In fact, come to think of it, I never heard anything fall into the bin or footsteps approach it. It’s as if it came out just to slam the lid right outside our bedroom windows. At first I thought it was a car door, it was so loud, obvious, and deliberate.

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 26, 1998 I believe my life will be a whole lot easier if I just cut out food altogether. I’ll eat every now and then, I’ll eat on vacations, I’ll still walk a half-hour a day, but I can’t live my life watching every fucking bite I’ve taken. First of all, the regimen I’ve been on should have caused me to lose weight and I should’ve been back to around 100 pounds a while ago. However, I accepted the fact that for whatever reason, wacky thyroid or not, I couldn’t get below 115. Maybe that’s just how I am now. Just like one can’t help their height, there are some people, both fat and thin, that can’t help their weight. I’ll be damned, though, if I’m gonna live with a new long-term problem, though. For 18 years I fought with the cigarettes and their effects on me physically and on my emotions. Well, I’ll be damned if I’ll swap in one problem for a new one and let the food/weight bring me down for years, too, as it has been for months now. I don’t want to set myself free from watching what I eat by going back to eating whatever I want to and not worrying about it, because those days can never be again. I will gain a ton of weight if I do that. However, as we know, there are some things that change and that are inevitable and that are out of our control. There’s no easy way to keep my weight where it is, and I sure as hell couldn’t lose weight, but I can turn the other cheek on some things that have plagued me and been a problem. I was taught that if you have something that’s a problem - dump it if you can. Omit it from your life (like a woman would dump a problem male and like I dumped abusive family members). So that’s why I feel it’d be better if I just didn’t eat, rather than worry about what I ate and deal with the hunger and counting the hours till I could eat again. I can’t deal with that kind of slavery either. I’ll walk, I’ll drink, but I just can’t eat anymore. Food just totally brings me down.

From the looks of the Caller ID box, Lisa tried to reach me yesterday. I hope she’s OK and that she gets her weight down because I know how much she wants to. I worry about her weight and Bill, though. If Bill got on her ass about weighing 130 pounds, then he’s surely gonna be cutting her down like hell about being 150 pounds.

I sent Tammy a letter, and as her sister, I felt it best to warn her of what I vibe, fear, feel, or whatever you want to call it. I told her I’d never try to persuade or suggest she like or dislike someone, but that whether or not she’s on good terms with the folks when they die - please don’t go to their funerals. I really see great potential for either extreme violence or even murder, should she, Larry, and Ronnie ever be in the same room together.

Ratsy seemed really depressed earlier. Even Tom noticed it. I switched water bottles since he seems to prefer roller balls to levers, so we’ll see if this perks him up. Maybe he was just kind of dehydrated.

I awoke at 117 pounds today, and since I shit yesterday, of course I’m stuck today. It’s no wonder I could never lose any weight. You can’t lose weight if you’re backed up in shit every other day.

Got some personalized stationery from the HS. They sent 5 sheets of stationery with little pictures of cats and dogs and with my name/address. And envelopes, too. I wrote/sent 2 sheets to Paula and 3 to Bob.

Bob must really be losing his mind. I had been sending Bob a few postcards Dureen and Art had sent, and according to Kim in her email to me, Bob thought they were from her. How fucking stupid can he be?! Didn’t he recognize my handwriting or see the Phoenix postmark?

I decided it was time again to play detective and browse the web to see what I could find on Gloria. It’s fun because one never knows what they’ll find. I found a few goodies - a few pictures and a boring screensaver, but I have it anyway. I found another picture that was in the bunch that Dureen stole. It’s nice to have these pictures back and I like them so much better on the computer, rather than the walls. They’re safe from tears on the computer, although I do have a few on the walls. The cool thing about it is that if a picture does tear, I can just reprint a new copy!

I saw a fascinating documentary on the Titanic. The big luxury cruise liner that went down in 1912. It hit an iceberg and is still 2½ miles underwater.

Tom didn’t have much more to say in regard to his class in Vegas. Just that it was mainly about changes in life and how to accept/handle them.

Later…

Guess we’ll be hearing from the bitch if she leaves at the same time she did yesterday morning. Yesterday morning, at 6:15, the freeloader bitch gave me 3 loud, hard, deliberate, obvious slams on its way out.

I have mixed feelings about going anywhere for Labor Day. At first I felt she wouldn’t party without him in the picture, but yes she will. The bitch still has her sick little gal pals and all their 10,000 kids. Everybody has to come to the bitch’s place for parties, so why not? And as an added bonus, they can all badger me. I’m curious to stick around to see if my strong party vibe rings true, but at the same time, I kind of want to get out of here because I don’t want to be invited to her fucking party. The last thing I want to do is sit around and listen to that bitch and her crony’s party. If they’re that fucked up that they feel they have to make a scene and get attention, that’s their problem. In the long run, though, I think that’s when my schedule will be on nights and I very well could be asleep throughout the late afternoon and early evening hours. But the question is - will these sick fucks let me sleep? Because if they don’t, I swear that bitch and her associates are out of here! Truthfully, though, I don’t see why I couldn’t sleep as long as I had the fan and music, of course, to blend in with their ball games and music, but things are different now than they were last Labor Day. They didn’t have two city letters complaining about them back then, so maybe, if they still feel such a need to be heard and noticed by me, their noise source will be mainly vocal.

Later…

I’m a pound heavier than I was when I got up. See, something’s gotta be going on, because although I did eat a little bit today, I didn’t even eat 1000 calories, and if you have 1000 calories or less, you’re supposed to lose weight. I shouldn’t be maintaining or gaining, but I am, so it must be for a reason and really meant to be. Maybe it’s just fluid that I accumulated since I got up, but all I know is that I never used to have this problem. I could gorge all day and be the same, or even less than when I woke up, so I’d still say that something’s gotta be going on that’s got to do with my metabolism or thyroid. Maybe, after I continue to eat so few calories and walk, I should go back to the doctor to find out why I can’t lose weight. Like I said, if I can’t lose weight, then I can’t lose weight and so be it, but couldn’t this end up being worse than just hanging at this plateau I can’t go beyond? This could be a sign of other problems to come, so we’ll see. Still, I know I should’ve lost more weight by now. No one should hold the same weight doing the walking that I’ve been doing, and by following the diet plan I’ve been following.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 25, 1998 Well, I'm already back to 118 pounds just a few hours since I last wrote. I walk a half-hour a day and eat sensibly, but my weight still stays at the same old heavy weight. Funny, huh? Doing all this to maintain the same weight, rather than to lose. Normally, this regimen I'm on should cause weight loss, but instead I'm just barely being able to maintain my weight by it, but wacky thyroid or not, I accept the fact that I can't get below 115 pounds. It's just such a constant, everyday struggle to keep it from going into the 120s! Is my whole life gonna be about this? Makes me want to just say fuck it, and go back to eating what I want and not worrying about it, but I can't do that anymore and hold the same weight. I'll gain a ton of weight if I do, but we'll see.

MONDAY, AUGUST 24, 1998 Tom should be home in about an hour. Mary brought him to the airport, and she’ll be bringing him back, too. That’s nice of her to do this since I can’t. He was gonna drive himself originally, but it would’ve cost a bit to leave it parked at the airport all day.

I can’t wait to hear all about his trip, and I hope and pray that he makes it back OK. I don’t have a bad vibe, but you know that these are the things that make me worry. I know traveling by plane is much safer than vehicle travel, but what with God and his ways, and with what happened to little Larry, and just the ways of life in general, I worry. A sudden tragedy can happen to anyone, anywhere. It’s just that unfortunately, most tragedies are inflicted upon the better people of this world.

Speaking of flying to Vegas, well, when we go, I’m gonna use journal 77 to write in during the trip (if I write at all). Since I began doing my journals on the computer only, I never finished the journal chart that I had left off with in that book, so there are several blank pages left over.

Later…

Tom is home now and is eating. After he eats, he’ll give me a detailed account of his trip. He said it was a stupid class, the cab cost a fortune, and that they cut the class early and he had to wait 4 hours at the airport. Well, they’ll reimburse him for the outrageous cab fare. The bank paid his airfare, of course.

I woke up at 117 pounds and knew I’d better get shitting today, or else I’d wake up at 118 tomorrow, which would still be within my weight range. Well, I did end up shitting off a pound, so I should be waking up at 115-116 pounds till I get stuck again. Then I’ll wake up at 117-118, and back and forth and back and forth.

Tom brought home a couple of little bags of peanuts from Southwest Airlines. And from the class - a little bean-bag dinosaur, a key chain, a little wooden box with Chinese writing, and a book he’s got to read before he can teach, I guess.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 23, 1998 Not a peep out of the bitch today, so the weekend was peaceful.

Tomorrow morning, Tom will be leaving for Vegas. Mary’s gonna pick him up and bring him to the airport at 7:15 AM. Then she’ll pick him up and bring him home at 10:30 PM. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to go in to work till 12:30 AM on Wednesday.

So, they’re basically gonna be teaching him to be a teacher where he works. Neither of us knows much about it, though, till the merger goes through and all that.

Woke up at 116 pounds and am hungry all the time. I have to wait a few more hours for my second and last meal of the day, so I munch on my mixed salad in between. It’s good right out of the bag. I even like it better without dressing. This is the second day in a row that I’ve been 115-116, so naturally, I’m stuck today. Guess my body’s just doing whatever it has to do to keep its weight at what it feels is ideal for it in this day and age. Anyway, this being stuck should reset me to 117-118, and if I can stick to this new diet plan, I should spend a lot of time being hungry, but I should never leave the range of 115-118 pounds.

Gotta do some dishes and do some more walking. I just wish the fucking belt wouldn’t lock up on me. Sometimes it gets sluggish like someone was putting a bit of pressure on it. I spray it with silicone spray, but it doesn’t always help. I want to feel like I’m walking. Not like I’m climbing an incredibly steep hill.

I’ll tell you one thing for sure, though, and that’s that when we do go to Vegas, I’m eating whatever I want. I’ll be damned if I’ll put up with being hungry all the while I’m gambling or doing whatever. I know I’ll have to start all over again when I get back because a day or two of eating whatever I want will throw me back up to at least 124 pounds, but it’ll be well worth it. When I get home, I can work my way back down to the 115-118 pounds I usually am these days. Even with the walking, God do I have a slow metabolism! I woke up at 116 pounds. Right now I’m 117½ and what did I eat today so far? Nothing but salad and one measly little TV dinner with a small portion of chicken lasagna. Oh, and two graham crackers, too. But that’s it. That’s all I had. It’s the shit. Yesterday’s food wasn’t shit off. It’s still with me. So, in a sense, I may as well say that today I’ve eaten 3 TV dinners, 6 graham crackers, lots more salad, and popcorn. By the end of today, I should weigh 118-119 and wake up tomorrow at 117. Well, maybe I’ll shit twice tomorrow. It sometimes works out that way where we make up for lost time here. Then I can get rid of yesterday’s and today’s food, get back to 115 pounds, then start all over again. I’ll be regular for a handful of days, then as my weight lowers, I’ll get stuck, gain a few pounds back, then shit and lose it again. That’s what I’ve been doing for close to two months now.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 22, 1998 No out-of-towners this weekend, but I guess little miss bitch had company while I slept. Tom said there were no music or ball games, though. A white car came and parked just inside the carport and then he said he heard a bunch of little kids, and that’s all he heard. Right now there are no lights on over there, and it’s early on a Saturday night, so that means that the subhuman black piece of shit meat is out somewhere. Unless she has to get up early, which I highly doubt. So, I’m sure I’ll hear her come door-slamming in any time now.

Can this bitch ever take one weekend off? Just one weekend? I mean, I can’t imagine not wanting a weekend to myself periodically with no visitors and no one picking me up. Guess she’s a clingy desperado who always needs to be around people (sort of like Evie). What is Evie’s fascination with me anyway? Why does she always want to do something with me or come and get me, etc.? I know she doesn’t feel sorry for me and my sterility like I originally thought, because she knows I don’t want kids, and from what she tells me, I think she envies me and my sterility.

Later…

Went for another dusk swim and it was blessedly peaceful.

Did some laundry earlier and soon I’ll tackle the dishes. Can’t wait till we have a dishwasher when we move, too.

Tom worked on the car, as usual, and there’ll be many more days of that to come, as is destined for the next handful of years or so.

I don’t know if Tweety’s dying or what, but he didn’t look too good, so I brought him inside. He seems weak and he’s sitting on the floor of his cage. Something he just doesn’t ordinarily do. Well, I can’t say it’d be any big loss to me if he did die. It’d just be one less mouth to have to feed and water since I’m not really a fan of birds. Neither is Tom. We both favor Measles over Tweety and if I could take Measles with us when we move, I would.

I was surprised to wake up at 115 pounds. Last night I had a 114-pound vibe, which is rather odd. We’ll see what happens, but as long as I don’t go back into the 120s again. One little change in my diet can cause me to swing out to 121 pounds like I just did the other day. I have a neat new diet plan that I think will be healthy for me and that’ll make sure I never go back into the 120s, as long as I stick to it.

Later…

The bitch just came in. I only heard one door slam. Couldn’t make out the car, though.

Anyway, I originally wanted to do the Slim-Fast diet plan and have a shake for breakfast and lunch, then a regular dinner, but no, God had to bless me with a bum stomach. I say that sarcastically, of course. So, instead of two TV dinners a day with graham crackers and popcorn mixed in, I’m gonna keep the two TV dinners a day but replace the crackers and popcorn with salad. Of course, I’ll do my walking, too. I’ll have a bowl of popcorn once a week. I’m not gonna deprive myself forever. It’s just that I can’t make any major changes/additions without it costing me a trip to the 120s. Hell, if I just kept on eating as I always have for years since quitting smoking, I’d be pushing 200 pounds by now!

As far as toning - I don’t know. Most of those target exercises never did me any good, and as Tom said, it takes a long time to see a significant difference. He said it may take me 9 months to a year and him about 3 years. He also pointed out how some people exercise for 5-10 years before they feel they’re where they want to be and at their peak fitness. It really is slavery. If it were something that could be accomplished in a month, no one would look like I do, or worse. Except for maybe most guys. Because most of them don’t care how they look, what they weigh, or how fit they are. Some women don’t, either, but it’s mostly guys who are less into their health/appearance. As for the craters, oh my God, I now have them from head to toe! That’s mainly an age thing. I can lessen them, but I’ll never get rid of them. I wonder about these hips, though. Never have I had hips like this before. I always had such narrow hips, but not now. Fortunately, though, the hip exercises were the most effective, so maybe I’ll do those more often.

Later…

Damn, this bitch crashes early. There are no lights on in the kitchen or living room, so unless the bitch is curled up in bed with her hand between her legs, sloshing around in the tub with a rubber ducky, it ain’t awake.

It’s in my nature to be a philosopher, as you know, and to analyze, guess, and wonder about all kinds of things - so - what would my life be like now if I were still back east? What a really fucking scary and depressing thought!!! If they had cut me off from SS and SSI without my having someone like Tom in my life, I’d have died for sure. I’d never have made it. Even if I could keep a schedule and dance till I got too old to dance, what would I have done afterward?

Tom is definitely my biggest blessing. Regardless of how many things he’s said and done that I disapprove of, I sure feel I have more security with him than I did with SS and SSI checks and my parents’ help.

If there is any subject that Tom’s words have never matched his actions (for more than the most part), it’s sex. No, this isn’t a complaint nowadays. Just observations. As I’ve said, we have sex Fridays and Mondays. Last night I got into bed to screw, when he said, “Let me use the bathroom for a minute first.” I’m thinking, oh boy. He’s gonna beat it off in the bathroom. I’d bet these journals on the fact that he did, too. After that minute, which was really 15-20 minutes, he came out, got into bed, and I said something like, “Gee! I was beginning to think some young, skinny chic popped into the bathroom and that you got it on with her.” Then he said I was impatient, he was reading a magazine, then he had to brush his teeth. I can see brushing his teeth, but he went and read a magazine while he knew his wife was waiting for him in bed? How romantic. Yeah, he really desires me. So much so that although it was the beginning of his day, he slept a long time, he had plenty of time to digest, the place was cool, he really squirt like hell! Yeah, right. Well, he’s not the only one. I tried using the vibrator, but I couldn’t get off. I told him I had a “missed” orgasm, where you have a very light orgasm, but it was close enough in a way. I did get more aroused than I have in quite a while.

Thank God, I mean thank fucking God, that he’s not your typical male. What with the way I’ve become so non-horny, I’d be driven crazy if he were all over me all the time, and if he were wetting the bed constantly. Speaking of that - he knows I’m dead serious about not wanting a kid anymore. At least I think he knows. Therefore, he’ll probably go back to not cumming at all.

Still have mixed emotions about going to get tested. Since I’ve stopped wanting a kid, it sort of put a damper on my curiosity about why I’m sterile. I mean, is it really necessary that I see if I can find out why? Who cares if it’s the eggs, or the uterus, or something else when I not only don’t want a child, but I know why God sterilized me? It’s simple - he sterilized me because he knew I couldn’t handle a child. So, is knowing all this really worth putting myself through the hassle?

Tweety’s still hunkered on the floor of his cage, but he did get up to take a drink. My guess is that he’s dying, but we’ll see.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 21, 1998 What? No weekend company, Joely? At least not so far, huh?

Anyway, both Tom and I have been very productive. This weekend, he’ll be doing the usual - car work, taking care of his ma’s house, yard work.

Tom says his Ma’s house won’t be a lot of work since it’s selling as a fixer-upper, but I still think it’ll be enough work till it sells at the beginning of next year, which is when I feel it’ll sell at this point. Well, like I told him, he can take all the time he needs to deal with his family’s affairs. I’ll support him 100%. Remember, it’s not like we’re newlyweds who have to be all over each other constantly. Due to my enormous love for him, he can have all the time and support he needs.

Yesterday, I went on a 3-hour cleaning spree and I scrubbed this fucking old, filthy, ugly kitchen like crazy. The sink is white porcelain like the tub is, so I had to bleach the shit out of that. God, I can’t wait till we have a stainless-steel sink again! The counter, which is so old and made of the same kind of tiles you have in bathrooms, had to be scrubbed too, and it sure as hell was hard to get in between the cracks. I scrubbed the microwave and the stove, too, washed the tablecloth today, and will do the regular laundry and sheets tomorrow. I still have to do other things, too, like cleaning the bathroom, among other odds and ends around here that need cleaning. Due to my not liking this house, I’ve been neglecting the cleaning. Gotta dust and vacuum, too.

I got the animals’ cages cleaned today, and later, I’ll work on the TV trays Tom brought over from Mom’s. There are 4 wooden trays on a wooden rack that need cleaning. It’s filthy with dirt and dust, but dirt, dust, crumbs, clutter, disorganization, and all that, runs in his family.

I checked the guide on the TV screen for the first time in a while and holy shit! There’s actually a new movie out that’s just my kind of movie - a scorned teenage girl seeks revenge on those who burned her.

Yesterday I was up to 121 pounds. I was so fucking watery that I took a water pill. Aren’t periods supposed to drain water? Well, this period ended up being rather wimpy, like I said. I needed ibuprofen, but no big pads. Just liners. So when I woke up, I was 116 pounds, but it fucking figures. All this extra weight gain over adding a lousy little bit of chicken to my diet. And apples and salad. I really should just stick to my two TV dinners a day and some salad, although when I tried this new menu for variety, I did cut out one of those TV dinners. I just can’t afford to take even one extra bite. My metabolism is just too slow for that and I’m just not no young thing anymore. If I were smart, I’d cut out food altogether and just live on liquids and vitamins, and just eat every now and then. That way, if I cut out food altogether, I wouldn’t have to worry if I went over an extra bite or two, etc.

Lisa called me again today (I’m beginning to wonder if now she’s gonna call me every day!) And she sounds great.

I awoke from a dream that wasn’t so great that involved Tom. For some bizarre reason that may have had to do with money, we had to live in separate apartments for 4-5 years in Springfield. Oh, how depressing! I’d rather wake up from a nightmare where someone’s trying to shoot me than all sad like that.

Tom got me some goodies for my hair. Some hot oil treatments and some split-end mending stuff. It’s stuff I’ve used before, but it’s been a while. It helps a little, but nothing will ever salvage this dry, frizzy, dead, damaged, uneven, straw-like hair like a good haircut would. It’s not gonna happen just yet, though.

Oh, I take that back about the dogs being quiet after dark. Last night, just after 9:00, they went on a little fit, so I used the wireless headphones (this was right as I was beginning to clean). Come to think of it, this has happened before, but things could be worse as far as dogs go.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 20, 1998 Another message from Jackie. She just doesn’t get it, I guess, that her uncle doesn’t want anything to do with her or her sister Pam. I mean, he and I will be polite when we see them in person, but Pam and Jackie are both users. They only call when they want something. This time around Jackie wants to know what the story is with Ma’s house. She and her husband Jim want it. They’re under the false idea that they can rent the house out and make extra money without having to work. Well, who would they expect to do the maintenance? Tom? Probably so. They’re not getting it, anyway.

Later…

I’m gonna try again in about an hour to see if I can get a peaceful enough swim. As I may have said before, in the last year the dogs have been better than ever. Instead of barking at night and every 5 minutes in the daytime, we’re down to no night barking and barking every 10-30 minutes in the daytime. Still, these little shits could go off at any moment for fucking ever! It’s hit or miss. Maybe I’ll be lucky this evening.

I ended up bringing on a flow by force. I made myself get off 3 times last night. Although this period is still rather light, it’s enough of one at this point. Again, though, I had more cramps for the period.

As my body was obsessed with weighing 124 pounds for the longest time, my body is now obsessed with weighing 118 pounds a lot. I’m surprised I am 118 and not 120. I’m so bloated. I think some of that bloat is starting to deflate a little bit now, however, as the water drains from me for a while. I may not be able to get any lower than 115 pounds, but at least I’m staying under the 120s.

Later…

Got lucky and got a good, peaceful, relaxing, yet invigorating swim for 40 minutes. Most of the time I just floated around, rather than swam, but that was the first orgasm I ever had in the pool. I suddenly felt horny, but of course, Tom’s asleep, so I took care of myself. I didn’t think I would be able to cum, as there are some distractions, like helicopters, but I did.

Tom and I had a pleasant chat before he crashed, about the possibility of us flying to Vegas in a few weeks. Great! I do like Laughlin better, but flying there costs more. They use smaller planes and they charge around $130 per ticket, but if we shop around enough, we can get a $70 ticket on a bigger plane to Vegas. So, I guess I’m not gonna miss out on flying after all, which would’ve been the highlight of the trip for me, had we gone to Florida. I love flying and gambling, but if I never really travel further than the surrounding states, that’s OK because I don’t like traveling in general. A cruise around Hawaii might be nice, though. And if I could be in England at the snap of my fingers just to be around the nice accents for a day, and maybe see Norah in a theater, then be back home at the snap of my fingers, I guess I’d do that, too.

Lisa called today, and finally, there was some wonderful news from her. At least, I hope it’s the start of a happier life for Lisa. For the first time in ages, she sounded really confident, happy, and hopeful. She said she tried to kill herself a couple of days ago, then got a new therapist that she loves. We didn’t get into what she did to try to kill herself, but I’m glad she got this new therapist she loves so much and that she feels is so helpful. Sometimes you do have to shop around for a good therapist. I’ve had therapists that were both not helpful and that were helpful.

She said that this one got her to see things differently and get to the root of the problem, as she put it. She thought she’d be better when Bill was gone so she wouldn’t have to put up with his emotional and physical abuse, but she didn’t get better. She just turned on herself. She now realizes that the reason why she turned on herself and picked up from where he left off, is because thanks to that bastard who oughta be tortured and killed, that’s all she knows. All she knows is self-harm. Yeah, I fully understand. She didn’t say Bill oughta be tortured and killed, though. Those are my words that I just wrote but I’m sure she feels the same. I try not to do what other family members have done and pit her against others. I just try to tell her my honest opinion and what I feel could happen in dealing with certain people, and that’s it. From there, she has to be the one to decide what to do.

Unfortunately, she’s still smoking, but hopefully she’ll stop before she’s 31.

I moved Tweety today for variety and something new. He was hanging off the edge of the patio. Right in between where the concrete and grass meet. Now, he’s just outside the back room window, so I can see him when I’m working on the computer when it’s light out. I can also see him from the kitchen.

I love Tom’s idea for a doggie door for Blackie for when we move. Instead of having the door lead to the whole house, we were thinking it’d be cool for it to enter into a small hallway where his food and water would be. That way, if we didn’t want him in the house, he could still get inside and to his food and water at all times.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 18, 1998 After Tom did some car work, then took a shower, we screwed. As usual, I just could not get into it. All was fine till he went to get up top. I didn’t see where I was when he got up there and apparently, my head was right at the wall, so he had no room since he’s taller than me. Instead of telling me to scoot down, though, he gave up so easily. Now any normal, red-blooded man who’s attracted to the woman he’s with and who’s normal sexually and not an old prude, would never have given up that easily. And it didn’t seem to bother him at all. He was perfectly content to just end it right there. It was as if it was the perfect excuse to escape it altogether, but I shouldn’t talk. I kind of have no desire myself. If what they say about a woman being most horny in her 30s is true, then all the more I’m just an abnormal fluke of nature myself.

Still, the out-of-bed Tom is worth the fluky in-bed Tom. Any abnormalities or lack of desire are all well worth the man that he is out of bed.

Later…

My period never ceases to do something new. I had a spot a couple of days ago, yesterday it looked like a light flow was beginning and I usually get a full flow after that, but today, nothing. My tits are a bit sore now, too. I’ve never not had a full flow that I can remember. Excluding when I was in my teens and the Navane was fucking things up. I still say it’s inevitable that I get a full flow, but now I know that anything’s possible when it comes to my periods. Sometimes I wonder if they’ll stop altogether. As long as I don’t have any problems or weight gain, my periods can do what they want. At least I can’t be pregnant.

I woke up at 117 pounds. I’m typically between 117-119 pounds these days, which is definitely as low as it’ll go because I’ve been weighing between that for just over a month now. Usually, if I weigh the same for that long, I’m gonna be staying there for quite a while, but great! That’s certainly better than 124 or higher.

Andy’s really gotten to be such a sad case. Well, he’s been a sad case now for a while, I guess you could say, even if he’s making good money now (till he flirts and gets fired). He’s such a pothead in the way that he’s such a forgetful little flake. He talks in slow motion, pausing 3 seconds in between words, and can’t remember shit. Yesterday he left a message about coming over today. I replied telling him I’d let him know tomorrow (today) when was a good time. So I called a couple of hours ago and told him he could come over between now and 9:00 and he said he forgot about it. Then he asked me if we agreed on a time and I’m like, “Andy. Don’t you remember? I said I’d call today and let you know.” Then he asked if I was sure 7:00 and 9:00 were the only times he could come over tonight. Then I had to repeat myself and remind him I said between now and 9:00. Not between 7:00 and 9:00. It’s a wonder he can even drive in the condition he’s in.

I gotta figure out how I’m gonna hide all this food Tom got today. I’m trying to switch to snacking on things like chicken, salad, and fruits, instead of graham crackers and popcorn. I hid the stuff I don’t want Andy to have, but he can have some graham crackers or toast if he wants if he comes over.

Later…

The Claritin’s not doing shit for me. I’m not surprised, either. As usual, it was something that seemed to be helping at first, but it’s just a joke. I knew it sounded too good to be true. Why has God always insisted I deal with something being wrong or different? Enough is enough already. Can’t he just leave me alone?!

Andy will be here between 7:00 and 8:00, so he says, and of course, that was the second time just now that we had to play phone about it.

Later…

Andy left a little while ago. He came over on time, smelling like a cigarette. He surfed the web, then we played 5 games of cards. All of which he won.

He didn’t have much to tell me this time around. Just that Michelle’s now really hired, instead of a temp, at the job she’s been at. So, now as long as Helen’s there, she’ll be there.

We were also talking about the president. God, he’s such a slut! This isn’t the first affair he’s had that he’s just publicly admitted to. The only thing about it that pisses me the fuck off is that millions of the taxpayer’s money went into investigating the affair. Oh, come on! His job is to be the president. Not be faithful. If he wants to whore around, that’s his business. What do we need to investigate it for or pay for it or know about it for? One has nothing to do with the other. As long as he can do what he’s got to do as president, then fuck his whoring around because 95% of the population’s whoring around. Anyway, I guess Hillary’s standing by him. What I think is that she doesn’t want to give up her position as the first lady, but will she still be with Bill after he’s no longer president? I swear anything named Bill thinks only from the waist down.

Oh, also, Andy came over somewhat baked. I knew he would sooner or later since he’s obsessed with doing the opposite of what one asks of him. At least he didn’t ask to eat the house down, just for gum.

Later…

Oh, I’m so fucking furious! I go out to have a peaceful swim, and I can’t even have that. Bark, bark, bark, bark! Does anyone ever tend to these fucking dogs? How the fuck can they stand it? Do most people really like noise that much? Do people really enjoy knowing that others can hear them or their dogs?

Then every fucking time I go out to do something, Blackie’s gotta be right at the door meowing her ass off. I swear, if I go in and out every hour, he has to go in and out every hour. If I go in and out every 5 minutes, he has to go in and out every 5 minutes. Thank fucking God I don’t have a kid. I could never handle it. I can’t wait till we move and get a doggie door so this cat can come and go on his own and leave me the fuck alone! Except for when I’m sleeping. When I’m sleeping, or if we’re not gonna be around to watch him and make sure he doesn’t bother the other animals or our stuff, we’ll lock the doggie door. He’s pretty good, so far, with not getting into stuff, though.

I have the air cleaner on when it’s light out. Sometimes I have it on when it’s dark, but as long as my animals are fairly quiet, I like to turn it off when it’s dark because that’s the only time there’s no barking around here.

Tom was just on his way to bed when I got up this afternoon. I told him I had a light flow again. He seemed so happy to hear that. He was even calling me beautiful. Well, if I’m so beautiful, why doesn’t he want me in bed more often? I shouldn’t talk, though, because if you asked me the same thing, my answer would be the same as his (although he wouldn’t admit this to my face) and that’s that it’s old news. There’s just no longer any excitement in it. It’s not new and exciting and so the lust flame has burned out. Thank God the love flame is still as bright as the sun. I’m sure it always will be, too.

Anyway, I still haven’t needed ibuprofen or a big pad. The light flow turned out to be more like heavy spotting and once again, it’s dying off. Will I ever get a real period? Well, logically speaking, I should and I will, but I just don’t know anymore. As long as I’m healthy and as long as my weight stays the 117-119 pounds it has been, then I won’t worry. Just wonder. I’m still on a good, healthy, low-fat, low-calorie diet, but I’m not walking as much. I just don’t care about getting down to 100 pounds anymore, which would take an unbelievable amount of work to do and it’s just no longer worth the slavery to me. If I didn’t starve altogether, I’d still have to eat even less than I have been, and I’d have to do a lot more walking which is boring as all hell. Even with a book, it’s just no fun, and not worth it to me. My life is still the same as it was when I was thin. Only difference is that I can’t fit into the same clothes. Big deal. There are new clothes to buy in the future.

When I got up, there was a message from Lisa saying that DYS was there at the house, and she asked me to call. When I did call, though, Tammy was there and she and the girls were cleaning. I quickly spoke to her, Becky, and Sarah, then Lisa. I asked Lisa if everything was OK since she couldn’t really get into it at that time. She said yes. I told her to leave me a more detailed message tomorrow if she calls and can’t get me. At least everything’s OK, though. She sounded chipper enough.

MONDAY, AUGUST 17, 1998 I cannot believe how long I slept! Again, thank God for no kid!

It’s a good thing that I don’t really care so much anymore about losing more weight because it seems something’s determined to keep me right where I am. It seems that every time I hit down at 116-117 pounds, it has me stuck the next day, so I get set back to 118-120.

I awoke with a light flow that seems to have dried up. When I need a big pad and ibuprofen, that’s when my full flow has arrived.

The white car didn’t spend the night next door last night and I’m sure it’s gone. Her usual ride dropped her off at 4 PM. When will her next out-of-towner visit?

Later…

Tom’s up now and he told me that the bitch got picked up at 5:45 this morning. That explains why the lights were off so early.

Got an email from Kim with some jokes she enclosed.

Tom was asking me how I felt period-wise and all that because he had to work on the car. He has trouble mixing work with sex and typically prefers to screw when he’s had no other projects to do. I let him know it’s OK if he can’t make the time tonight, and could sense he wasn’t anymore in the mood than I was. He’s always gonna have car work to do, so he’s gonna have to get used to putting that ahead of other things. He needs the car to work well enough to get to work and that’s more important than sex. I suggested that if he felt he could do both, as he mentioned possibly doing, then maybe he might want to screw first before he went and tired himself out with car work. Remember, he has to work too. As is his nature, he went the other way. He said he’d work on the car, then if there was enough time left over, we’d get together. Fine with me.

Andy beat me to the punch line and called today. I usually call him on Mondays. He’s finally making good money at work. He mentioned coming over and I told him that tomorrow night, which is his night off, would be fine.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 16, 1998 The reason I didn’t have a bad vibe was that there was nothing to worry about after all. The white car with the heavy black trim stayed till 11:00 or so but left quietly. Another car come to see the visitor, I guess, but then why was the van hauling shit out of it all night Friday night as if it were someone moving in? Anyway, the white car that’s been visiting, or whatever, leaves early in the morning and comes back around sundown. We’ll see if it’s gone by Monday as Tom thinks it’ll be.

Fortunately for both of us, though, I have no bad vibes and the stress has let up.

Later…

My very horny husband really wants a lot of sex. Really wants it full-time. That’s why he made time this weekend for at least a quickie. Ha, ha! Is this a complaint? No. Merely an observation. I’m not only used to his low drive, but now I’m used to mine, too. And no, I didn’t bring it up to him. There’d be no point. He’d only make excuses.

I finally began spotting today, so hopefully my full flow won’t be too far ahead, so I can lose some more water. I’m still holding between 117-119 pounds, thank God. Those water pills really are worthless, though. I’ll only use them if my tits get sore from here on out.

Tom and I had a good, productive weekend. He expanded Ratsy’s cage. His wire cage is square-shaped. We snipped a small piece of the top off. Just enough of a hole for him to fit through. Now he has two stories and high wire walls to climb. He loves climbing. So now his cage has gone from about one foot high to three feet high. Ratsy was in playing with Velvet while Tom worked. He worked while I babysat.

The only annoyance I had today was a 10-15-minute run-through of someone’s bass pounding far off in the distance. This time, even I, who’s bad with sounds/directions, could tell it was a very loud stereo far away. Not a soft one close by. I can’t wait till we get out of this city, but even so - if someone’s stereo can be heard loud and clear from the one to two miles that that stereo had to be at, what am I going to be able to hear from twenty miles away in another ten years?

I’ll be glad when we move and only have one cat and not two. I get tired of getting startled by the cats suddenly screaming when they fuck, fight, or do whatever it is they do.

Certain sounds I have become more tolerable of, though. Like I said, after something as obnoxious as the ungodly sound of a bass that sounds like hundreds of hammers beating all your walls and ceilings in unison, hearing screaming kids go by doesn’t irk me as much anymore. I can see if it were every day for hours, though, just like the Mormon kids used to give me. That’d get on my nerves, just like the ball games do. So far there haven’t been any ball games, but as soon as it cools down there will be, or in the early evenings anytime now.

So far, it appears that our main theory as far as that bitch goes was correct. Tom told me that as he pulled in from the hardware store, he saw the black bitch walking from the car that was in the carport with keys in her hand. I spied out the music room window shortly after and saw what looked like a basket of clothes sitting on the car. Her washing machine/dryer is outside in a separate little room. After I checked again not too much later, the car was gone and it’s still not there, so it does look like yes, it was a visitor, and the van and white car came to see the visitor. What I can’t believe, though, is that there weren’t tons more door-slamming.

Tom had another theory that sort of made me laugh. He suggested that maybe that was her car she just got, and maybe she was on a get-off-welfare program, has been working for a while, bought the car, and is therefore going to be moving soon. Very, very, very unlikely. I know I’d foresee this. I’d totally sense it. I still say she’s ours till we move. She ain’t going nowhere till after we do. Maybe not too much longer after we do, but as long as she behaves, and as long as I don’t have to be forced into having her evicted, she’s here till we leave at least.

I asked him where he thought she’d be moving to if that were the case. Why move? Why not buy the house she’s in? Because she wouldn’t have the money, he pointed out. Very true. She’d be moving into an apartment. Wouldn’t that be moving backward, I asked? He said, if she were getting off of welfare, that’d be moving ahead. True, if you think about it, but it’s still screwy. You get a house when you’re poor and an apartment when you can make it on your own?

Well, I still highly believe she’ll be a welfare mom till the kid’s at least 18, but of course, by then she’ll have more animals. And besides, if she knew she was moving soon, what the fuck would she care anymore about obeying the city’s orders to shut up? There’d be music galore coming from over there. Well, she’s lucky that that 2-3-minute concert was all I heard, because if I hear anything more than an occasional outburst, I’ll have her evicted, and if she’s planning to move anyway, that’ll be worse for her because then I’d wish I could kill her.

Although I’ve been in similar shoes she’s walking in and have been low-income and know it’s not always a person’s fault that they’re struggling, I have no sympathy for her. She’s just another welfare mom. She’s not disabled in the ways that I am. She can keep schedules and be consistent.

The Haunting was great. Yes, I finished it. It starts in 1910. A devil-worshiping great aunt takes in a mute 16-year-old boy whom everybody considers dumb. Especially back then. They were treated as outcasts. The aunt, who’s a widow, has a 44-room mansion. In a little shed with a dirt floor on the property, lives a couple with two sons and one daughter. The parents do laundry and yard work for the aunt, but mostly in town, for rent. The boys help them. The little 5-year-old girl stays on the property. The aunt ends up killing the little girl, the boy, and the boy’s girlfriend.

Nearly a century later, the reincarnated little girl, who’s currently age 25, comes back to the house, unravels the past tragedies, and then lets the aunt’s ghost kill her to sacrifice the lives of her sister, niece, and nephew, and to destroy the aunt’s spirit.

Evie’s getting to be a pest again with the daily messages. I feel bad for her, though, because like most moms, she’s feeling trapped and she said she told David she needs more time without the kids. She said David said we’ll see. God, I don’t envy her! That poor thing. I can’t imagine having to give up my life, my hobbies, my sleep, my Tom, my animals, my everything for that. Thank you, God, for sterilizing me.

Gee, we go to bed early next door, don’t we? It’s 8:30 now, and when I made a car check just now, I saw that all the lights were off.

Figured out how I’m gonna group my journaling on the computer. I’m gonna have 4 files a year. Say I started at the beginning of the year, for example. I’d have 98winter, 98spring, 98summer, and 98fall. I’m gonna consider January - March winter, April - June spring, July - September summer, and October - December fall. Since I began in June, rather than have June be a file all in itself, I threw that in with July, August, and September and it’s the 98summer file.

Later…

I had to break for something to eat. Yes, it was my third meal of the day. I’m just so fucking sick of being hungry all the time! Tom says that I’ll get used to it in a few months, but I don’t think so, and I just don’t give a shit about getting thin again. First, this new diet plan was fulfilling, but now I’m hungry so much of the time, and I wonder - is rocking really worth it? Sometimes I still feel it’d be best to just let myself go. I know my weight could really climb. Like into the 150s or higher, but it’s just so hard trying to keep my weight right in the 116-119-pound range. I’m back to 120, though, but that’s just life.

Speaking of weight, Lisa’s really upset over her weight. She says she’s up to 149 pounds now and thinks it’s because of her meds. I told her to ask her doctor about her meds. Becky’s a couple of inches taller than her, she says, at 5’ 5”. She also weighs 160. Wow! This is so hard to picture.

Anyway, Lisa called me last night and tonight. Last night, she was on the verge of cutting herself, but fortunately, she reached out to me and got me by phone, and we got her calmed down and laughing, too. I let her know just how proud of her I was that she didn’t cut herself. I told that her each bad time she pulls through without cutting herself, she’ll be stronger and will be proud of herself.

The poor girl has got a lot of problems that are gonna take time to deal with. And so many questions and concerns too, but all of which are normal for a girl her age. She’s got a full plate - her being suicidal, her weight, her smoking, her home life, her meds, her feeling abnormal, her emotions, Bill and other family members, etc.

I believe deep down, though, that she’ll pull through this. She’ll be OK and have a successful enough life. Not without problems. Some of her life will suck and she’ll have long-term problems too, but she’ll survive. I just know it. I doubt she always believes this and feels this way, too, but I know Lisa will make it.

I see what Tom means when he says a kid like her would still be worth it. It’s easy to say I’d never want to deal with a suicidal kid around but look at what a wonderful person she is. I couldn’t imagine my life without Lisa. The thought of being told she died brings tears to my eyes and totally depresses me. I never would’ve thought a kid and I would be this close. That one would tell me things that they don’t even tell their own parents. Still, Lisa is Lisa, and I still have no desire for our own kid whether it was like Lisa or not.

She told me she had problems using tampons and wondered about how she’d be able to have sex when she’s married. She asked about GYNs, and what I thought about sex before marriage. I told her not to worry about the sex when and if she’s married because that’ll work itself out. I told her I understood her concerns, though, and had them myself. I suggested she try KY jelly for the tampons and just try to relax at the GYN. I let her know it’d be uncomfortable, but not painful. As far as sex before marriage - I told her that age, maturity, and being with the right person were more important when it comes to sex than just marriage alone, but that was just my opinion.

When she asked me if I was embarrassed to see a GYN, I told her no and that’s the GYN’s job after all. They see lots of people. This led to me telling her something she didn’t know that I didn’t think she knew, but that I knew she’d be OK with. I told her she should keep it between us, not that I’m embarrassed by it, but that that was all I’d tell her about me for now, since she’s still a kid. I told her I danced topless. She kind of thought it was cool and feels the same way about prostitutes as I do. That’s kind of low, compared to what I did. Then she said it’d be cool to be on the Jerry Springer talk show about this. Yeah, I’m sure she’d find it a riot sitting on national television telling people that she thought it was so cool that her aunt once danced topless.

I called to wish Tammy a happy birthday, who was all giggles. It’s great to hear her sound so happy. I never knew her to be this happy. Ditching Bill was the best thing for her, although I’m sure she’s still a moody, bitchy, negative, shitty mom at times. She told Lisa she’d kick her out if she caught her cutting herself. How sensitive.

She said Mark spoiled her and that last night she didn’t get in till 6:30 in the morning. She got my confetti card and says that most of it is still all over her living room floor.

According to Lisa, who called a few hours ago, her day ended on a sour note. Lisa said they fought about all kinds of things. She said they did make up, but she almost ran away. I asked her where she would’ve run to. She said she didn’t know. I told her again to just tough it out till she graduates. Then she can be on her own and do what she wants.

She said she was upset about Tammy’s coming in at 6:30 in the morning. I asked her if she told her mother that and she said no. So, I told her that she’s got to speak up. Her mom may not know how she feels otherwise. I advised her to tell her mom that she’s happy for her and Mark, but that her coming in at that hour is a bit unnerving for her.

We hit upon the subject of Larry and the parents again. I asked her if she’d had any contact with Larry since I warned her of the shit she could very well face with him in the future, and unfortunately, she admitted to one call. I asked her if he mentioned what was going on with us and she said no. Well, there is nothing going on with us, so to speak, but I wondered if he’d bitch to her about my dumping him. He surprisingly didn’t, but I doubt he’d tell anyone I dumped him. I’m sure he and his parents tell people that they did the dumping, but anyhow, I warned her again of what she could have to go through with Larry. I told her that maybe it was wrong of me, but that I highly recommended she had nothing to do with my folks or Larry. She doesn’t need to associate with people who don’t believe her (my parents didn’t believe Lisa when she tried to tell them that Bill hits her, and Larry thinks he’s Mr. Wonderful, too), that hurt her, and that doesn’t fully accept her as she is. They want her to be, act, and do on their terms only. You know how controlling these people are.

I can understand that at her age, not as used to all this shit, she’s hurting over it. She loves my parents, but as I reminded her, it’s OK to have fond memories and to love them and miss them, but they’re not worth the BS she’ll mostly have to deal with from them. She’s gonna meet enough losers and abusers in her lifetime. She doesn’t need their shit, too.

She was hurt that my folks now have a block on their line rejecting collect calls when they know Lisa calls collect. Boy, they really despise anyone who speaks out against their precious Bill, don’t they? They only love him because he’s Jewish, he has a good job, and he got Tammy out of the house and out of their hair. They loved Tom for similar reasons. They never loved Tom for Tom. They love Tom for taking care of me so they didn’t have to.

Anyway, as I told Lisa, sometimes you have to give up a little bit of goodness in order to give up a lot of badness, that’s just detrimental to us. Here’s an example, in which I told her: Jen and Sandy never did me wrong in any way shape or form. I love them, they have nothing to do with my shit with Larry, but in order to get this asshole out of my life, I had to let them go too. It’s unfortunate that it works out that way at times, but that’s life. We all gotta do what we gotta do, and I’m sure that with time and age, she’ll learn to like herself more and to respect herself. Self-respect is a very important thing to have. Without it, one can really make a lot of mistakes and allow people with negative influences to be a part of their lives.

In a way, thinking of my folks and Larry makes me laugh. They’re so immature. I never really saw and realized just how spiteful, but mostly immature, my folks are till recently. And Larry too, of course, but oh my God! It totally reminds me of high school. You know where you have little cliques. Dureen, as I’d prefer to refer to her from now on, would be the leader of the “popular” group. She’d be the boss, and no one would dare stand up to her. Art would be her little ass kisser with no backbone of his own. Larry would be Dureen’s pal and then they’d do what children do best - pit people against others, bad mouth others, gossip, spread personal shit around, and discuss shit with the wrong people.

Oh, how I wish I’d dumped them years ago!!! What took me so long, huh? What took me so fucking long to thoroughly see these immature, spiteful people for who they really are??? It kind of embarrasses me that I let their shit go on as long as I did and I’m really, really fucking embarrassed, and even pissed at myself, that I let Larry back into my life to fight with me all over again and to cause such mixed emotions a whole decade and 3000 miles later.

I swear, the only “fond” memory I have of Dureen and Art is their sending me out here. If there’s one thing and one thing only that they did good for me, it was that. For a while, I felt like I owed them for that, but no, they owed me that.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 15, 1998 Just thought I’d write while I wait for “Jessica’s” clothes to dry. That’s the porcelain doll I stole (I’m washing her clothes) while I was at the Vista. Andy was calling her Stevie because of her long blond hair. I really would’ve preferred that Rapunzel doll. It was so cool looking.

These particular horoscopes that I’ve been checking out on AOL, are basically geared towards work. I’ll still copy them out in 159, though, even if I don’t have a regular job. Guess it’s a male doing it since it revolves around work/money. I’d think that if it were a female, they’d revolve around romance/family.

According to Evie, she began at 115 pounds, then after the kids, she weighed 180. Damn! That’s so typical as sad as it is, though. If I had had a kid at 100 pounds, I’m sure it would’ve left me in the 140s and if I had one now, yeah, I’d probably be left at 180 myself. Or 160 if it were just one kid.

Evie offered for me to use her rowing machine (we were talking about weight/exercise stuff), but I told her no thanks since it didn’t sound like anything that’d fit in a car too easily. I’ll stick to the treadmill.

I don’t want to go back to this daily email thing with her, she says she wants to come and get me or do something with me, I don’t care to get together with her, but I feel obligated to. It’s not that I have a damn thing against her, of course, I’m just not one that likes to be around people like she is. Anyway, Tom and I will probably invite her and the kids over in a couple of weeks on the weekend. It’ll probably be fun, and I haven’t met my nephew yet who’s over a year now.

Tom slaved over the car again today and true to my vibe, the wallpaper/screensaver changer won’t be done today. It works, but not perfect yet.

Tom still thinks that someday, somehow, we’ll have a kid. He thinks it’ll be from my body, but get this, he says we’re too old to adopt an American baby and we’d be given a foreign baby. Not that I’d ever want to adopt, but this makes no sense. If you’re too old for an American baby, you’re too old for any baby.

I asked Tom if I should put off and wait another 6-12 months to settle my natural curiosity (if I can) and go get tested then, or what? He said it’s up to me to do what I want, but he suggested mid-October because then it’ll be cooling down. Yeah, going out to appointments in 105º and up sure is a bitch. Well, I hope mid-October, which sounds good to me, will be it. I hope neither of us makes any excuses to keep putting it off because I know that if I go, I won’t wonder anymore what they would’ve done and what they could’ve told me, and I’ll feel a whole lot better about myself.

Ratsy bit Tom again when he stuck his fingers in the cage. Guess he just doesn’t like anyone who doesn’t feed him.

I can’t tell you how pissed I am to hear that Becky sent me a letter that I never got. I doubt she addressed it wrong, too, and I’m sure that was just one of the many pieces of mail that our illiterate fuck of a mailman misdelivered. Of all the pieces of mail, it had to be that one! Yeah, I’m sure that’s my punishment for delving into the bitch’s mail.

Speaking of the bitch - naughty, naughty! Only for 2-3 minutes, but I don’t know yet how tonight’s gonna be or what I’ll be in store for in the near enough future. Well, once again, her fate depends on her. If she stays or goes, is her call, but like I said, I really would rather not have to have her evicted. I don’t want her to go first and do something to the house, but if she did, Tom says I couldn’t just go to the PO to get her new address. We could get her address, but it’d take a little time. He says it’s now against the law for the PO to give out such info. That should’ve always been against the law, anyway, because people have a right to have their privacy.

I’m sure though, as sure as I am that the sun will set, that we’ll go first. Ever since she came and childishly went off on me, I had a strong premonition that she was it. She and her cronies were our final neighbors.

That pearl van came back again at about 8:30. I heard a lot of voices and door slamming. A little later, I noticed a car in the carport, but couldn’t make out the color. At that time I assumed it was the cock’s and that the time had come that they’d kissed and made up. But why get a U-Haul if you’re gonna be gone just two months, I thought? Well, maybe he didn’t know he’d be gone just two months.

Then, in the midst of hearing stuff being moved out of the van all night (I thought the van had stuff of the cock’s that they were moving in) they gave me a 2-3-minute concert. The second I heard the music, my blood began to boil, and boy did I have to restrain myself to stay in this house! It wasn’t as loud as Caddy Kid’s, but let’s just say that they made their point. They wanted to be heard, and they were heard. It was such an obvious test too, as if to say, hear me, Jodi? Don’t forget we exist Jodi. Acknowledge and notice us, Jodi. You gonna write the city again Jodi?

I knew there’d be occasional attention-getting shit pulled. They’re gonna do stuff periodically to remind me that they’re there, but does this bitch really want to hang onto that house like I was beginning to think? I knew I’d be compensated for all this quiet time I’ve been soaking up, but we’ll see. We’ll see what happens, but like I said, I hope that sick bitch wants to stay there. It’s up to her.

At 10:30 the van left. That was the only concert so far. The car in the carport turned out to be a white car that Tom never saw before. He was out test-driving the car when he saw it, but he didn’t think to look at the plate. He said he heard them packing stuff or doing something in the carport at 6 AM. At first I reminded Tom that the cock’s a car dealer, so it could’ve changed cars for the thousandth time, but as Tom pointed out, he’s never gone bopping around the carport that early. And there’s the van to think of too, then a picture formed with Tom’s help. This white car was visiting from out of state. The van people not only know this bitch, but they know her company, too, so that’s why they were hanging about.

That’s the problem with this bitch - she knows too many people. But it makes sense, though, because the more of an asshole you are, the more people you know, because most people are assholes. How much out-of-state company is this freeloader gonna have? And how long are these people gonna be here? What kind of noise am I in for? No car has been there since I got up at 7:30, but what shit am I in for tonight? Well, I’ll surely let you know. I don’t have a bad vibe right now, but shouldn’t I? Well, I just hope it is a very occasional outburst and nothing more. It could’ve been that she had nothing to do with the little concert and that her friends did it to piss me off. See, she obviously told her pals to be quiet once the city complained, but these van people could’ve been drunk, or just in the mood to fuck with me for a good laugh. It’s not them who’d be risking eviction, and her friends would be sick enough to do that. Her friends have no respect for her. They’re not true friends. They could care less about her, and the same goes for how she feels about her friends. If she were asked by one of her “friends” to turn the music down, think she would? Hell no! She’d pitch a fit, act as if she were asked to hang her kid, then she’d probably dump them. The same goes for if she asked something like that of her friends. Obviously, she has, but if you think she didn’t get hell for it, in a sense, think again. They reacted as if she asked them to kill their loved ones, trust me. If she asked them to keep the music down due to the city complaints, they’d be just as quick as she and her wonderful guy were to ignore her and do what they wanted.

Tom said that no, they’re not obsessed with me, and they don’t deliberately do shit to me. Well, I disagree, of course. I think they like to provoke me, they like to get a reaction, etc. However, one that has no respect to think of their neighbor’s reasonable request to lower their music, does show that they’re incapable of thinking of and of considering others. They may not even be able to consider/think of me, anyway. They’re just too naturally selfish for that.

Tom said it’d be better if they didn’t see me spying on them. Well, if I’m right, and attention is what they want, they should get off on seeing me spy on them. This is how it’s gonna be, though, because I don’t care. I don’t give a shit about them and therefore, if they see me spying, they see me spying. If not, that’s fine, too.

Later…

OK, the white car is in the carport, but the van’s nowhere to be seen still, fortunately. Since the car’s in the carport, I guess it’s safe to say that it’s in for the night. Now all I have to do is hope the van or any other vehicles don’t come slamming about or playing music. Hopefully, the van people got to see the white car people as they wanted to and will be out of the picture for a while. Also hopefully, this person isn’t a new roommate and will just be here for the weekend, then will fuck off till the bitch’s next out-of-state company blows in (if that’s really what this is)! Once again, though, why does everyone have to come see the bitch? Can’t the bitch go see them?

Last night, before I noticed the car parked in the carport, I saw someone walk through the carport (it was close to dark, though, so I couldn’t see who the fuck it was) and I thought, oh shit! The people in the van just hauled her in a big dog and she’s going to the back to rig it up, but then I realized I didn’t hear any barking. If this bitch does get a dog, though, it’s out of here, and more than likely so is she. If she got a dog last night, it would have been rigged to the car in the carport all night just a few feet from the bedroom window, of course, the little fuck!

I know Labor Day will be no different than the last two, whether the cock’s moved back in or not. There’ll still be a scene from over there. I don’t know if the cock will visit or not, but the pearl van will, and others.

I did the laundry, I did the dishes, I walked, so now I’m gonna go relax with this wonderful book I’m reading!

Later…

Current report - a white car with heavy black trim, that I believe I’ve seen before, just pulled in. No music, just a couple of horn honks. I’m still too stressed to concentrate on reading here, till I know what the fuck’s going on over there for sure, or until the vehicles die off. It smells so good over there. I think it’s coming from over there, anyway. It smells like they got some good chink food over there. I’m shocked that the bitch hasn’t been spending more time with her never-ending slew of company outdoors in the heat, blabbing away with their loud mouths.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 14, 1998 I’ve never been so pissed over not getting my period! Tom says it’s the water pills that are fouling things up. But I only took 3 water pills and the last one was days ago. If my period needs water to hitch off, then what’s it waiting for? I’ve got plenty of water on me. In fact, I could easily end up gaining a pound a day of water if I don’t get my period soon enough. My tits aren’t sore, but I sure feel like I’m getting it at times. I could swear I’ve felt cramps beginning. Well, I’ve been late before for my period and my cycle’s been erratic anyway, for the last several months. It’s just that it’s always when you no longer need or want something that you sometimes get it. Please, God! I do not want a child. Please don’t make my plumbing work. Please don’t make me give up my life, please! I love life too much nowadays and I need my freedom. I’ve been through enough physically and mentally. Go give the kid to some other woman who doesn’t want it, but spare me, please! Let me live. Let me sleep.

Logically speaking, I know I can count on God to not dish out stuff to me that I couldn’t handle. I can’t count on God to be fair, to let me weigh what I want to weigh, to not kill my husband, but I can count on him to spare me from motherhood and all its burdens.

Speaking of getting things I wanted too late - where was this call rejection thing when the freeloaders were calling? You can turn right around and block out an anonymous call you got even without knowing the number. So, after getting the first call, I could’ve just blocked them right out. I didn’t mind their calls that much, though, but it was Tom I was worried about. I didn’t want him to know they were calling because he had enough to worry about, and something like that may worry him more than it’d ever worry me. Besides, being blocked out by me may have only made them more determined to talk to me about racial harmony and they could’ve been hurt bad and I could’ve ended up in jail. Because you know that if they’d have pushed hard enough and perhaps came to the door, I’d have killed every single one of them right then and there.

Later…

Typical Andy. Not a word of sympathy over Bunny (I had left him a message about it). As usual, he’s so into himself and what’s going on with him. It was all about how he and Michelle went to the gay bar and they got attention with Andy’s tambourine. How immature. I mean, that was fine for years ago, but is Andy ever gonna grow up? Is he gonna be doing this when he’s 80? I swear that guy’s living the same life he’s always lived ever since I’ve known him. The only difference is that he’s in Arizona. But he’s still a waiter, still on the phone, still smoking pot and cigarettes, still alone, still wanting the impossible, and going about trying to get the impossible in the wrong ways and in the wrong places. Fantasies are great, but we all have to live in reality while we fantasize. Fantasies can’t be brought to the reality side of life. I used to think you could turn fantasies into reality when I was young and naïve, but the two are separate. You’re either dealing with pure reality or pure fantasy. If Andy would stop trying to mix the two and trying to make his dreams into reality, he may have an easier and better life. Dreams are dreams. Reality is reality.

Yesterday’s trip to the dentist was pleasant, but not so pleasant. It was nice seeing Charlene, Gary, the black lady, Melanie’s gorgeous face, and people I knew. These aren’t strangers anymore. Charlene’s friendlier than Melanie in ways that she’s more outgoing and talkative.

I told her I felt bad for her what with having to clean my teeth with the braces, but she said she didn’t mind. She thought it was nice that I thought of her, though. Nonetheless, the cleaning wasn’t the bitch I thought it’d be. It didn’t take longer than usual. She just took the wires and bands off, then cleaned them as usual, even though they had brackets on the centers of the top teeth (she thought I had braces on the bottom, too).

We were jokingly saying how she beat me up since she pinched my lip and pulled my hair by accident at one point.

Then Dr. Smith came in and sure enough, he said I had a cavity on a corner of one tooth. So, I’m gonna be getting that filled on the 1st, when I go to see Melanie. I highly doubt that there’s a cavity, though. But like I said, doctors will do anything to make an extra buck. Tom says the only thing that makes him skeptical is how I hadn’t been to a dentist in 10 years, then all the teeth that happened to have fillings were ones being pulled, and now I have fillings in teeth that aren’t being pulled. I can expect this every time I have a cleaning. No matter where I go, they’ll tell me every six months when I have my cleanings that I’ve got some sort of cavity. Most of which will be fictitious.

Then they took an x-ray of the tooth, and Melanie and the black lady (name?). Were waiting for me. I looked at Melanie and asked, “You gonna hurt me again?” She just laughed and Charlene joked about her being in a weird way when she laughs like that.

Yes, Melanie really hurt me. God, did it hurt! She had to put big-time pressure on that tooth and although the pain was only for 2-3 minutes, it sure felt like a hell of a lot longer.

She asked me if I got any more animals and I told her our rabbit died.

After the torture, we were standing at the counter as Tisha, or whatever the hell her name is, was looking for an appointment time for me and I commented on how tall she is. She said she’s 5’ 8”. Taller than her husband.

She also said that hopefully they’ll do the filling first so I’ll be numb when I see her, but nope. I’ll be seeing her first and even if I were numb, I don’t think it’d be close enough to where she’s got to apply such horrendous pressure. Wish she’d numb me every time, though!

I asked her if she had any idea how long it’d be before I didn’t have to see her every two weeks and she said she didn’t know, but that it’d be a while. Thank God she’s at least good-looking!

Speaking of that gorgeous Melanie, boy did I have quite a dream about her last night! I was in some huge building in a room far away from where there were a lot of people and it was getting dark. I don’t know why I was thinking that I should leave the room before it got dark and why I couldn’t just turn on a light, but anyway, as I started to leave, someone went running down the hall I was about to step into. They were breathing hard. It was fearful breathing. Like they too, wanted to get out of the darkened, deserted area. I called out something and saw it was Melanie and she said, “It’s me.” Next thing I know, she’s kissing me passionately on the lips and we were in a big, bright, crowded room. I remember wondering how she’d feel if she knew that all these people could see us kissing, then I awoke.

I inactivated the anonymous call reject and put the freeloader bitch’s number on our rejection list. So, if they call from another anonymous phone, fine. I’ll just block that, too. I’m sure Andy will like being able to just dial in, without having to punch other buttons first. Hope that doesn’t inspire him to call more, either!

Tom did his duty in life - worked on the car. He ate, watched TV, did some computer stuff, and then he lay in bed with the cordless headphones and listened to a discussion on hypnosis while I read.

I love this book I’m reading. The Haunted by Ruby Jean Jensen is great. After I finish it, I’ll discuss it here.

Lastly, we screwed. Naturally, he was too tired to get on top, let alone get off, but as long as he gets in there, sex is perfect.

Later…

God, this little shit next door is getting more confusing these days. The silver car that usually picks her up/drops her off just pulled in. I ran into the music room and although I only saw her from the neck down to just below the elbow, I knew it was her. Her arm’s as big as my thumb, that’s how skinny she is. She appeared to be walking a little kid. I thought she walked her kid into the house and that the car would leave, but just after I saw her go into the house with what I thought was the kid, her father came out of the house and got the kid. What? Has she got two little ones now? Or was she carrying something heavy or bulky?

Later…

That pearl-colored van pulled up quietly at the freeloaders at a little past 5:00. It’s still there now, too.

This has been a bloodless period. All cramps and no blood, but when the blood does come, I hope it’s enough to flush this water off of me. In other words, I hope I don’t have a half-assed period, although I suppose it really makes no difference. My water level’s gonna fluctuate no matter what, but if I can stay in between the 116-119 pounds I believe I’ll be staying at - great.

I just heard one loud door slam and if it was next door, as I’m sure it was, it ain’t budging yet. Pearly’s still parked there.

I take that back. It just left. After a deliberate, loud mother-fucking slam that sounded like it was gonna come through these fucking walls, it left with no music. Well, at least we’ve finally learned our lesson about the music after what? 2½ years? Of course, that’s subject to change, but hey, if it does, I’ll be dialing them a 30-day notice to fuck off and out of here.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 13, 1998 Maintaining the same weight of approx. 116-119 pounds is a piece of cake. What with how I get stuck here and there and watery before my period, I can count on being set back from 116 pounds to 119 pounds. Yesterday I woke up at 116 pounds, but by the end of the day, I was 119 pounds because I didn’t shit that day. I’m also due for my period today, so even though I finally shit today, I’m still at about 118 pounds because I’m pretty watered down. I hope my period isn’t too late. I don’t want to take any more water pills this month because if I do, my period will be too half-assed. I want to let it do its job fully and clean me out of water, etc.

I know God would never do this to me, since he’s always made sure not to give me any more than I could handle, but it’s ironic how just yesterday I was saying, “Watch. Now that I stopped wanting a kid, God will give me one.” Tom was talking about how maybe when we move and aren’t in such a need for me to do all I can to ensure I sleep, we’ll be able to sleep together. I know that’s just a dream, though. God would never let me be normal enough to sleep with my husband, so thank God he loves me and wants to be with me forever anyway.

Nonetheless, that’s what started our discussion about the weird way things work out. Even though my logical side knows God would never stick me with a kid, there’s always that fear in the back of my mind. What if he makes my plumbing normal? God can do anything. What if we just happen to hit the odds and hit it right? God can make sure one of his sperm and one of my eggs meet no matter when we screw. So, I guess that until I hit menopause, these fears will always be lurking deep within my subconscious, but still, most women would envy me. They’d kill to have their own little built-in birth control system that they could depend on more so than any human-made birth control device.

Lisa called this morning, and thankfully, she didn’t cut herself again. She was upset over some boy in school taking the easy way out, as most people do. This boy can’t handle her problems and basically only wants to stick around when she’s all smiles. When she has problems, that’s a whole different story. So I reminded her that if someone can’t accept her as she is, through her good times and her bad times, then they’re not worth it. I told her also, that I understand that these things hurt at her age (till she gets used to it) and that her feelings are normal. The poor girl feels anything but normal now. My heart really goes out to her.

Later…

God’s doing what he does best - breaking the car so that Tom has to do yet another round of car work. God’s favorite pastime, I’ll tell you!

The silver Caddy, which I think is really a Chrysler New Yorker (I’m so bad with cars) just pulled in and dropped the bitch off, and I also saw a car parked on the street. It looked like it could’ve been that dark blue car. I think that’s the cock’s roommate.

Our insurance doesn’t cover the new allergy pills I’m taking (Claritin). It fucking figures, huh? So, we went and picked up several samples at the doctor’s office.

I would get into my little trip to the dentist, but I’m kind of wiped out now and just want to read, so I’ll get into it tomorrow.

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 12, 1998 I haven’t taken a water pill since the day before yesterday, am due for my period tomorrow, and woke up at 116 pounds.

Tomorrow’s gonna suck. I always look forward to seeing Melanie, but I’m gonna be there for fucking ever! Tomorrow’s the double whammy. Charlene’s gonna clean my teeth before I see Melanie, and I’ll probably be there for at least an hour, maybe more.

Tom says they’ll tell me I have one cavity like they always do when I get my teeth cleaned. Well, if they do, that’ll be getting rather obvious. If they tell a person they’ve got a cavity every time they get a cleaning, then it’s obvious that they’re just trying to make an extra buck and that most of these cavities are non-existent.

Yesterday my allergies were so bad! A nightmare! It got to the point where my nose was so stuffed up that I couldn’t taste anything, I couldn’t lay down flat, and I really thought I had a cold. I give up on trying to identify what it is because every time I think I know what it is, the thing that I thought was it doesn’t bother me. Nonetheless, I cleaned all the animal’s cages. The mice, the pig, and the rat.

I think I have an idea as to what could be a more effective way to lose weight than the walking and low-cal diet plan. It’s the running bursts, I think. See, I don’t just walk, but I also add spurts of running, too.

I forgot to say that about a week or two ago when Andy came to grab Laura’s clothes, he had no problems shutting the gate, and even admitted that yes, it was probably him who left the door open because he forgot to slide the bar across the latch. That was nice of him. Still, I can’t wait till we move away from this old-fashioned crap.

The gas company painted our little tangle of gas pipes that’s out back. We don’t know why. Guess they were doing something with it. I wonder what the gas and electric meter readers must think when they see a rabbit in our yard?

Later…

I have some sad news. Bunny’s dead. Tom discovered him in between a clump of hedges, and we buried him out back by one of his favorite trees. For about a week, he hadn’t looked too good. He seemed weak and kind of out of it. He wouldn’t even eat the graham cracker I gave him a couple of days ago. He loved graham crackers. Tom said that from the looks of it, he was killed by a cat. He was going to die anyway, as rabbits and rodents typically live 2-3 years and they get weak and out of it and stop eating the week before they die, but the cat finished things off quickly. We think it was Daddy Cat. Mama cat wouldn’t be so hungry (none of Bunny was eaten, according to Tom) since female cats are better hunters, White Paws is too little and is sort of weak herself since she hardly eats, and Blackie certainly wouldn’t do it because he and Bunny loved each other. Blackie was sad, too, as if he knew his friend was gone. As Tom said, it’s an instinct for certain animals to prey upon weak and vulnerable animals and kill them just to kill them. As Tom also pointed out, it may have ended poor Bunny’s suffering a lot quicker, too.

In better news, Tom’s in good health, thank God. He got a letter back from the doctor saying all was fine and to come back in a year.

Remember how I said I told God the other day that I’d take Caddy Kid in exchange for weight loss? Well, Caddy kid banged by loud and clear twice today. His usual times are at 7:40 AM, 1 PM, and sometimes in the early evenings.

Mom’s finally decided to go ahead and sell her house, but I still have to see this to believe it. I kind of felt that the house wouldn’t sell till after she was gone. However, after I had time to soak up what Tom was telling me, I had a vibe that the house would go next February or March, but we’ll see. I still vibe that she’ll live to the age of 77, but not according to the doctor. Even Tom said she’s been bad and has been falling down lately.

Anyway, all that’s in the house is now fair game. Then Tom (of course he has to be the one to do most of the work) is gonna prep the house for a Realtor. Ma’s gonna take the first offer she gets, so it oughta go fast. We won’t be getting the $300 a month that Ma’s been giving us to look out for the house once it’s gone, but I think it’s best that the house goes. I’ve pretty much always felt that way since Dad died.

I asked Tom what I could do to help him and he said just supporting him would help him. That’ll be easy enough. Way easier to deal with than when his father was dying. Things are different now. I love to see Tom every day and to talk with him. I couldn’t imagine not seeing him every day, but back then I wanted sex every day and wanted a kid and was like, maybe. Just maybe I’m not sterile after all. Maybe God was just waiting for the perfect time to let me get pregnant and maybe a kid is in my destiny and maybe I really can handle it and he knows this. Now that I’m not a nympho anymore, and now that I’m facing the reality of my sterility 100% and realizing just how blessed I am to be sterile, I can let him go a lot easier and let him be tied up elsewhere a while. I’ll still see him regularly enough, so it’s OK.

I called my doctor’s office and left a message for someone to call me back. Some guy called back, and I told him about my allergies and how some days I’m fine, others I’m not, I take Benadryl, but Benadryl makes me drowsy. So, he’s calling in a prescription for a new allergy pill that’s supposed to be great. Tom mentioned it to me the other day, too. It’s supposed to not cause drowsiness and you only take one pill a day, too. He’s calling in a month’s worth and says to call if there are any problems. Oh, I hope to hell this works!

TUESDAY, AUGUST 11, 1998 This must be the longest I’ve gone in between writing in a long time. A whole 4 days! That’s because (I’m trying to get out of the “cuz” habit and write properly). I’ve been busy as hell, but things have been great.

Most of what’s kept me tied up is the computer work I’ve been doing. I have only nine more journals to proofread! I told Tom to thank Mary for me for proofreading them. That’s the name of the lady’s voice I have my talking lips set to. There’s Mary, Mike, Brutus, Freddie, and variations of these voices.

I had Tom switch me back to Windows ‘95. Windows ‘98 sucks and even Tom agrees with me. I hate its sliding menus. Also, there’s no point in my being able to choose two colors for my active and inactive title bars when the damn thing only displays one color half the time.

Before I get into my big project I was doing - another quiet, freeloaderless, doorless, dogless weekend. With or without him in the picture, though, I know I’m gonna have to deal with winter noise. Meaning that as soon as it cools down, the kids are gonna play ball regularly enough. God’s gonna compensate me for sure for these quiet months because that’s how it always works. I always have to pay for every little blessing I get.

I told God, though, that he could stick Caddy Kid on me all he wanted to if he’d let me lose more weight. This weight-loss thing is going so slow that I’m virtually positive my weight’s settled at what it’s comfy at and is gonna stay at (116-119). Anyway, the day before I told God I’d take Caddy Kid for weight loss since I have to pay for everything, I heard him for the first time in a while. I thought someone was knocking on the door, till I looked out and saw him banging by. But ever since, I haven’t heard from him. That’s fine with me, though, because I still can’t stand it when he goes pounding by, and losing weight isn’t as important as it once was.

Later…

Lisa called a while ago, and I love the different ringtone for long-distance calls. (part of that new package) it rings intermittently for long-distance calls, thank God, or else I’d have ignored the phone and written it off as one of our many sales calls. I cannot believe how persistent these salespeople are. I’ve never seen or heard of anything like it before and neither have others I’ve talked to. Maybe God really is paying me back. First he took away my sleep for taking it away from hundreds of others. Now, he’s annoying me with the phone for annoying hundreds of others.

Anyway, Lisa cut herself again and went back to smoking (I don’t know if she ever really quit to begin with). I told her the same things I’ve told her before about why she shouldn’t be cutting herself or smoking. All I can do is hope that it’ll sink in in time and that it won’t take something as big as window-jumping to get her to learn her lesson.

Here I am, finally without the anger that I’ve had for years over the uncles, Larry, the parents, and now I have to deal with my anger towards Bill. Meaning that I finally either find ways to deal with and flush out my anger towards these people, or let time dissipate it and now I’m replaced with how much I want to kill Bill. God really is bound and determined to replace every single problem I fix or that just goes away on its own, isn’t he? If I were 100 pounds tomorrow, the next day there’d be a new problem waiting for me. If we won the lottery, we’d be inflicted with health problems for sure. Anyway, and like I said, the parents, uncles, and brother, are all in the past, but boy would I love to kick Bill’s ass to hell and back! If only he knew just how lucky he is that I’m so far away.

I find I often have scary, but mainly sad thoughts of Tom dying. No, I’m not talking about vibes or premonitions of any kind. Just thoughts. They’re so sad that they make me cry. You know I couldn’t live without my Tom. Still, I wish these thoughts would go away. They’re so utterly depressing! Just thinking about him dying makes me cry, so that should tell you all the more, just how quickly I’d kill myself if he really did die. Well, if God wants me to die by hanging myself, he’ll let Tom be killed. He knows this. In fact, I told God that if there was only one prayer he’d grant me from here on out, it’d be to let me be the one to die first. Everything else after that is just extra. I’d be enormously fat, based to holy hell, and have all kinds of shit/problems before I ever lived without Tom. Even if I could survive on my own (and I couldn’t because of my schedule problem) there’d be no life without Tom.

Tom and I made a new little sex plan. So far it’s been working out fine, but you know that’ll change. Whatever it is that’s up there, that’s always been so bound and determined to hex me sexually, will get in the way yet again.

The new plan is to screw every Friday and every Monday. Those are the two days that our schedules shouldn’t prevent us from getting together. We can have sex on other days, too, but we’re starting with these two days for sure to see if it helps the irritation I’ve had. As I told him, I can’t keep going through that. We need to either have sex or have no sex at all. So far, he’s been letting himself in there and that’s the only thing I care about. As long as he either gets in there or says he’d rather not, I don’t care how the sex turns out. In fact, now that he knows I’m dead serious about not having a kid and that that’s no longer something I want, he’ll probably never cum again which is fine with me. Not because I have any doubts about my sterility, but because I know he’s just as happy with not cumming, and because of the mess it makes.

I had Ratsy in Velvet’s cage for a while. It was cute how they played together. Right now, I’ve got Ratsy’s wire cage inside of Velvet’s Plexiglas cage, since Ratsy would only jump out of Velvet’s cage. Plus, he likes to climb the wire. Tom said he had a good idea for modifying Ratsy’s cage, in his message to me before he split for work, but he didn’t get into it. Well, he ought to be home soon enough.

Now for my big project. Tom expects to have his wallpaper/screensaver changer program done by Saturday. Meanwhile, I made a couple of new wallpaper/screensaver schemes. I wish I’d done this a long time ago because it is sooo cool! It started with me making Tom a little present. After all, he’s made and done for me computer-wise, I thought it was high time I returned the favor. So, I scanned in all kinds of family pictures with relatives of ours on both sides of the family. Minus the folks and Larry, of course. I did start to put in a few of Dad, but then I deleted them. I have pictures of Jen and Larry Jr. Both of us really liked this. Doing the family pictures inspired me with more ideas, so then I went on to make a folder of journal covers, too! I scanned all but about forty covers since there were some duplicates. Also, some were just too ugly for scanning. So now I have three different sets. The ones with Gloria and Norah. The family pictures. And the journal covers.

Later…

They say ignoring a troublemaker is the best way to deal with one, but I disagree. I’ve always learned that facing the troublemaker is the only way to deal with one. Well, it may not be a perfect solution all the time, but you sure as hell have a better chance of getting trouble off your back if you face it, rather than turn your back on it. And if you are gonna turn your back on it, you should face it first. So, instead of ignoring the first sales call of the day, I picked up and said, “Look, you’ve been calling consistently now for years…” then the woman asked me if I knew who she was. She said she needed to talk to Tom about his American Airlines account (the one he doesn’t even have) and I told her to go to hell and quit calling. Again, it ups my chances of getting these assholes off my ass, but for the most part, these salespeople just don’t get it and they just don’t give up. She’ll call again tomorrow. Even so, it feels good to get my frustration out on these persistent assholes every now and then.

I wish I could be just as persistent as they are with not snacking in between meals, but it’s so hard. It started off easier than the one meal a day, but now it’s gotten hard again. I still have more energy, I’m still walking, but I’m back to being hungry a lot. My body’s constantly crying out for the food and pounds it naturally craves, but I’d really rather not let myself get back into the 120s again, because then rocking will be hard again. It never ends, though. All this slavery just to stay where I am now in the first place! Why oh why did I quit smoking? What a waste. I just threw away one problem for a new one, but like I said earlier, that’s how it always is with me. Everything in my life was predestined to have a certain balance of - and + in my life. At least I can say, though, that my life has never been better than it is today. I feel more at peace nowadays, than I ever have before. I’m not dying to have lots of things I can never have. Instead, there’s just one thing I’d really like, which is to move, and that’s a done deal. Meaning, that is possible, that is destined, and it’s gonna happen someday. As for the weight - it’s OK if I lose or stay where I am so long as I don’t get too much bigger to where I can’t rock.

No, I certainly don’t miss the loneliness, the aloneness, the struggling, the addiction to Navane, the wanting a woman, the wanting to be a singer, the high sex drive I couldn’t satisfy with Tom, the wishing sex could end with him cumming, the wanting a kid, the wanting to quit smoking (I know that if I still smoked I’d still be thin, but my lungs would always be just as shitty as they were back then), and a million other things, like my parents and Larry.

If this were a year or so ago that we were in the position we’re in now, I’d have run to the doctor about my sterility in a heartbeat, even though I’d still come out of it without a baby. Now? I’m not even curious about finding out why I’m sterile anymore. If it was as easy as snapping my fingers to obtain the info that’d be different. A part of me feels obligated to go for testing because of how Tom took the time to switch us to Intergroup for its broader infertility programs, but I just don’t want to go. My heart’s just not in it, and I’m tired. First it was the ear, then asthma, then the ear again, then the braces, and lots of colds and flues and infections along the way. I’m just tired. Tired of the medical roller coaster.

Later…

freeloader update - at noon I heard a door slam, and shortly after, Tom came in and said El Cocko was parked in the carport. It left quietly without a door slam not too long afterward. Not one beat of music. And you know damn good and well that if this were in the past, he’d have come banging in. Tom believes that our city letters did the trick as far as the music goes and I think he’s right, although it’s sad that people won’t do right when a neighbor asks them to, but only when the city does. They’ll lower their music for the city, but not for a neighbor! I disagree with him on why he’s not living there, but I hope he’s right because if he is, it may lower the chances of him coming back, although I highly doubt it. I’m sure he’ll be back at some point. Anyway, I think that he moved out because they had a fight. He thinks it’s because of the letters. He thinks that by the time they got the second letter, they realized how serious we were and really checked into it and pushed to have him move out.

OK, say Tom’s right. No retaliation, though? I’d think that if his moving out really had to do with us, that they’d know it and that they’d try to pull some shit on us. Well, maybe they know it just won’t do them any good, and maybe the bitch really doesn’t want to lose her house, which is cool with me. As long as next door’s quiet and not distracting me and interfering with my everyday living, I don’t give a fuck who lives over there.

Wish we’d sent those letters in March of ‘96, though!

Measles was on the patio all by herself just now, so I gave her some of Tweety’s food.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 7, 1998 Here we go again with the allergies. I got up at 7 PM, but by 11 PM, I was so sick of sneezing that I took a Benadryl. That, of course, knocked me out for a couple of hours. My oh-so-horny-all-the-time husband lay down with me and we chatted till we both knocked off. He eventually moved out onto the couch, though, so I wouldn’t have to listen to his goddamn snoring.

I told him I was dead serious about the all-or-nothing sex. If we can’t do it full-time, regardless of how it pans out, then we can’t do it at all cuz I can’t keep going through this irritation I get. I know God will do all he can to see that we don’t stick to the plans we made of having sex on Fridays and Mondays, but I can’t keep up with that shit. It really hurts to have to feel like a virgin being broken into every week or two or more, then having a few days of irritation, then doing it all again. That cycle has to be broken.

I’m still a bit groggy, so I ate, walked, and now I’m having caffeine coffee to hopefully bring me back to life. I feel like I could just lie in bed for hours doing nothing but staring at the ceiling, and you know just lying around still doing nothing, isn’t me. Well, I’m not as out of it as I could be.

I absolutely can’t believe that my brother didn’t either read the letter and call me about it or send it back unread. This tells me that there’s a damn good chance he just threw the letter away as soon as he got it without even opening it, let alone reading it. That’s OK cuz we can part now with no hard feelings. Meaning that since I got to express myself this time around, I can let him go without the anger and anxiety. My emotions have gone dormant now, and that’s what I always wanted as far as my family is concerned. Now I can move on without them and without them haunting my emotions and thoughts. They’re people I remember, that I knew for years, that brought me both good things, as well as a lot of pain, but now just like Jai, Jenny, Jessie, Steve, etc., they’re in the past. No more bitter and negative emotions. Just memories. Just like with the people I just mentioned, they can live their lives as they please. They can think, say, do, and believe anything their hearts desire.

What’s the point of having Caller Reject if you can’t reject certain numbers? Tom got a package deal on phone services. They’re cheaper than what we’ve got now, even if we’ll never really use them. I went to block out Larry’s number anyway, and it wouldn’t let me block that number. What? Does it only block local calls?

THURSDAY, AUGUST 6, 1998 I put Ratsy in the smaller aquarium last night just for variety. I was wrong when I said it’d be nice to have a duplicate set of tubes/cages that the mice have. He’s just too big for them. It was so cute and so funny how he ran back and forth in anticipation of getting some lettuce when I got up. Just like a dog waiting eagerly for food/attention. At one point, he was jumping up and down and hitting his head on the bottom of the maze (which sits on top of this aquarium).

Anyway, we’re gonna modify Ratsy’s cage. The pink and white wire one.

I made some Norah posters earlier, just for something different and fun to do. They’re pretty neat looking. We could’ve made time for sex instead, but neither of us wanted to that bad it seems.

Tom was coming down with another one of his many colds (actually, I’m surprised he hasn’t had more by now), but I guess it never turned out to be much of a cold. His doctor said there was a lot going around now. At this time of year? How odd. He ended up with a different doctor than I’ve got. He said she was nice.

When asked if there were any problems with intercourse, he said no. Yeah, I knew he would. I knew he wouldn’t mention the near never cumming, cuz as I always believed, it was never a problem for him. He’s happy if he cums, he’s happy if he doesn’t, but that’s good. I feel the same way now. Especially now that I don’t want a kid and especially since I know he’s happy either way. So I agree - he can cum, he cannot cum. As long as he’s happy. What they really mean, anyway, when they ask this question, is if a guy can get a hard-on. Well, he’s certainly never had a problem with that. Like I said, I don’t think a doctor would ever ask about cumming like they would hard-ons, cuz if you can get hard, you can cum. It’s all psychological and getting hard without cumming much is very rare. Oh, he’s common, though. Most guys, either consciously or subconsciously, don’t want kids. Where Tom’s rare, though, is that most guys consciously know if they don’t want a kid and they aren’t afraid to say so.

Later…

How wonderful it’s been without Caddy Kid blasting by 2-3 times a day. Lately, he hasn’t been around. It’ll be back, though. It seems to come and go.

The usual weekday routine is still going on next door. I still don’t know for sure if it’s every day, cuz my schedule isn’t always on days, of course. Nonetheless, at 7:15, in comes the silver Caddy. The freeloader pulls up on the street, grabs the kid and leaves, then the bitch hops in the Caddy and off it goes, too. I cannot believe these freeloaders’ consistency! Even I could never be that consistent.

I think I know just what happened, though. I figured that the cock either went home to mommy and daddy or moved into an apartment with a guy pal and is roomies with him. The second is the more likely thing. I think he drove his gray car over to his new apt. His roomie took him back to the house here in his dark blue car. He drove the U-Haul over to the apt., while the roomie drove back in the car and together they moved him in. God, please don’t let me see that U-Haul again! And if I do, please let it be right when we’re moving.

I know this is pure fantasy, cuz the cock’s gonna be back sooner or later and I’ll have to listen to whatever door slams, dogs, company, and ball games he’ll bring in, but I wish things could stay as they have been till we move. It’s been great. If she could just stay there herself, like she’s supposed to, then all I’d have to deal with till we moved would be neighborhood kids coming to use the basketball hoop. I really hope she or anyone connected with her doesn’t act up, as I said, cuz then I’ll just get her evicted and you know I’d rather not. I want her to stick around for a certain delivery to be made.

I took out the two soundproof panels and the tin foil that was in the music room window. I did this cuz the only function that the two panels were serving was to block out light. (Watch. Now that I’ve pulled these out, the bitch will replace her burnt bulb in the carport. I hated when that thing would glare on and off while relaxing to music). Anyway, a little light won’t kill me, and that security light also has helpful functions once it’s replaced.

It’s just that I miss spying, even if there’s nothing really going on to spy on. I can also put a glass of water on the windowsill now while I’m on the walker, and can reach it from the walker. Before, I had to keep jumping off it to get a drink.

I’m only in that room to listen to music and to walk and no noise could bother me when I’m doing that, cuz I couldn’t hear it anyway over the music or fan. The bitch may hear me singing at night, but you know I’m now a true Arizonan who couldn't care less about her neighbors. And if I were asked a reasonable request, why I would just flip, right? I’d be such a true Arizonan and act like I didn’t give a fuck. I’d ignore their request and go further and act as if they asked me to kill my husband or something as horrible as that.

Later…

The bitch and kid left quickly and quietly this morning. If that teenage boy or anyone else lives there, it’s completely unknown to me. Anyway, all I heard was a few seconds of talking. At one point, in her usual pissed-off tone, I thought I heard her say “I thought I told you…” presumably to the cock.

So, did the cock move out cuz he and the bitch were fighting? Or cuz he’s not supposed to be there? I’d say it was cuz they’re having one of their fights. If it were cuz he wasn’t supposed to be there, then why did it take a whole year for them to catch on and order him out of there? Nonetheless, they’ll kiss and make nicey soon enough.

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 5, 1998 Andy told me something funny that Melanie, Andy and Michelle’s friend, said last night while I was on the phone with her, but that I didn’t hear. It’s hard to hear over all the typing I was doing and with the voice thing going. Andy said she asked, “What race are you? A man or a woman?” That one’s nice. I jokingly asked Andy earlier, “What religion are you? Black or white?”

Andy also says Gloria has a new album out called Gloria. I guess it’s in English. I’ll have to check it out, although I’m sure it’ll suck. Each album an artist puts out gets worse and worse.

Tom went to the doctor today for a check-up. Finally! I’m really proud of him. I kind of feel obligated to get tested now, since he did switch insurance cuz this one’s supposed to have more stuff for that, and since he sort of got checked for that, but guess what? I don’t want to. I just don’t care to find out just what makes me sterile anymore these days. I’m just not all that curious anymore and I certainly don’t want a kid anymore. Thank God! I don’t know what I’m going to do, though. We’ll see. First, I want to get out of the bi-weekly appointments with Melanie before I decide whether or not to take on any more appointments. After the ear, then the teeth, asthma, etc., it kind of gets old.

On the 24th Tom’s going to Vegas. The bank’s sending him. Unfortunately, I can’t go too. He’ll be going in the morning and flying back that same afternoon. They’re gonna train him to be a teacher. How neat, huh?!

TUESDAY, AUGUST 4, 1998 The bitch slammed her door at 6:30, and right now, there’s a car parked in front of her place on the street. It’s too dark to see what car it is, though.

Andy came over and was here from 7:00 till just now. I fed him a TV dinner that I had Tom get just for him in exchange for terrorizing the poor guy. I also let him browse the Internet, of course.

He called to wish his brother a happy birthday. He called David in Enfield, but he wasn’t home. He called to wish his mom a happy belated birthday, too. She and Al are in their early 70s now. Guess they won’t be around too much longer.

The good news of it is, is that he came over sober, although he was his usual slow, flaky self with his usual not-so-good memory. He also noticed the weight loss and says that even my face went down and that I’m still so little. Yeah, I know I’m not as tall and as wide as most women, but I still wouldn’t cry if I lost 15 more pounds.

Is the grand finale coming up? The one where the dogs go on their last barking fit of the day? It’s almost 9:00, so we’ll see in a little while.

I’m having a blast with the Microsoft Mouth. It’s great for proofreading.

MONDAY, AUGUST 3, 1998 Tom searched online again and downloaded me what I thought was the perfect wallpaper/screensaver/scheme changer, but nope. It’s so bugged. It does a bunch of weird shit and sometimes it gets hung up. I tested and experimented with it for hours, but every time I think I figured out how to fix it, it does something else it shouldn’t do.

We screwed yesterday and it went fine, except for the first 20 seconds he was inside me. Oh, my God, it was excruciating. Is this really because the muscles and all that aren’t used to regular sex? Or is it cuz I’ve got some kind of cut that never healed? Tom says he thinks it’s cuz we don’t screw regularly. Like with the braces. I got used to them after a few days, but if I were to get used to them, take them off for a while, and then put them back on, I’d have to get used to them all over again. Well, I don’t know if it’s cuz of the part-time sex, some cut that never healed properly, or something up there that’s once again hexing my womanhood, but I try not to give in to it. I just deal with it. I have a cream I put down there when it acts up.

Why do I still get the feeling, though, that he sometimes deliberately won’t go inside me cuz he’s either not in the mood, wanting to play games, or both?

Later…

Forgot to mention earlier how I woke up at 115 again. And I didn’t even take a water pill yesterday and I had 3 meals, too.

I heard soft bass thumping at 11:00 last night for about 10 minutes, but couldn’t figure out where the hell it was coming from. There were some door slams that I thought were next door, but I didn’t see any cars there. I just hope they behave if he’s back, or whenever he does come back, cuz I’d really rather not have to have them evicted. I’d rather they stay and that we move first, so I can be their librarian.

Later…

Well, tonight I learned a big lesson. Don’t ever play a joke on a paranoid pothead. A few conversations ago, Andy had told me he’d still be making prank phone calls if it were still easy enough to get away with. Also, he wishes he’d get some prank phone calls. So, tonight, I gave him what he asked for. Tom installed this really cool program into my world. It’s talking lips. You can set the size and shape of the lips and pick from female and male voices. You can also adjust the pitch and speed and add echo effects and shit like that. Using different voices, pitches, and effects, I called Andy’s and this girl answered. Before this, though, I left several messages on his machine all saying the same sentence (Hi Mark, I want to suck your cock) in different voices with different effects. This thing can also read text from my journals and things like that. I had it read parts of earlier journals onto his machine.

When I called and got that girl, he hadn’t listened to his messages yet. Anyway, I talked to this girl and since I can type so fast, I really thought that she and Andy would know it was me. How many people do they know with computers and who can type as fast as I do? Michelle has a computer, but hers is a piece of shit. She also can’t type as fast as I can. Anyway, I used the names of people Andy knew and spoke to the girl, who I found out is Melanie, a friend of his and Michelle’s, and then I spoke to Andy. I told him I was sorry my voice sounded so funny, but I had cancer and had to talk through a pipe in my throat.

I basically hit on him and was stunned to see him fall for it. I could not believe it! How stupid could he be?! But it’s all cuz of the pot. He can’t remember shit or figure things out too easily cuz of the way that pot kills his memory and slows his brain down. I just can’t believe he didn’t put two and two together and realize it was me playing around with him. He not only was too stupid to realize it was me, but it terrified him. And even Melanie, too. Are druggies always so paranoid and so easily spooked? Andy’s afraid of everything and everybody! Everything either bores or scares him, I swear.

After we hung up, he later called and left a message while I was getting Tammy with this thing, and he said that he’d kill me if he found out I was behind these computer things.

So, I talked to Andy later and told him and his friend, Melanie, that if I had any idea that this thing would freak them out, I’d never have used it on them. I told them I was so sorry and would never have guessed in a million years that it’d scare them. I told Andy how shocked I was he didn’t realize it was me giving him what he wanted while testing out a new program. He said I better feed him for this when he comes over tomorrow night, but that yes, he did ask for this. Yeah, food is another one of his loves. He says he still eats a few bites a day, but I doubt that. I think he’s always got food in his face.

Anyway, I only kept Tammy on for a few minutes and spilled the beans on her in the end. I figured it’d be best not to leave her hanging and wondering about it for too long, but again, how come she didn’t figure me out? These people are so slow! I said I was a friend of Marks, mentioned the pipe and cancer thing, then when it came time to break the news to her, I typed in how they weren’t gonna put her in bucks for $400 jail (what I accidentally said to Tracy when she said she was worried about going to jail for ripping someone off). Something very obvious. She said, “Very funny. You scared the shit out of me. It’s 11:30 here.” Then I told her about the program, gave her and the girls my love, then we hung up.

Where was this thing in the late 80s - early 90s? I’d have had so much fun with it.

Just one more year. One more year! God, I’m so fucking sick of not being able to concentrate while at the computer due to the constant distractions. In the daytime, it’s the city noise. At night, it’s the animals. When we move, my computer’s not going in the same room as the animals are in. And what is it with these dogs? This is the second night in a row that they’ve gone on a 9:15 barking spree and it’s pissing me off. It’s dark. It’s been dark. Those dogs should be quiet. I went out to see if I could hear what might be stirring them up, but who knows? I think it’s just that they feel neglected. I thought I smelled cigarette smoke coming from the freeloaders when I went to the side of the house, but as of yet, I haven’t heard anything from over there. I’m sure the dogs just want attention, and I’m sorry these dogs are so abused and lonely, but I just wish they’d shut the fuck up!

SUNDAY, AUGUST 2, 1998 Today my nephew Larry would've been 18 years old if God hadn't have taken his life. God, you killed the wrong Larry. If you had to kill a Larry O, God, why did it have to be little Larry?

SATURDAY, AUGUST 1, 1998 I think I accidentally found my folks online. As I was in getting my horoscope, I thought of different screen names the bitch could be using for them. I’m just the naturally curious type. On a whim, I typed in a variation of her old screen name that she ditched, then typed, “Nice screen name,” sent it, and it actually went through. There are millions of AOL users, so it could be anyone, anywhere, but who knows? She can’t respond since I blocked her out of my list, but that’s mighty fine with me.

Later…

Tom got up last night around midnight and sure enough, he didn’t want to screw today. I knew he wouldn’t, either. See, I’ve noticed a pattern in him. If for some reason I can’t screw one day, he can’t screw the next day. I was also mid-cycle yesterday and that old subconscious fear no doubt kicked in. He claims we’ll screw later, but my heart still isn’t in the idea. I don’t give a shit at this point how the sex turns out, but I just have no desire to do it in the first place. I guess I better at least put up with it if it’s really pleasing the man I love, cuz the man I love, says he wants more sex.

Tom fixed the leaky faucet in the tub, the cabinet in the kitchen that was falling off its hinge, and the screen door in back that just ripped off its hinge again. Like I said, every fucking faucet leaks in this old dump and every door is either crooked, won’t close all the way, or is partly off its hinge.

At least one of us can fix these things.

Last night I popped back up to nearly 120 pounds. I wasn’t the least bit surprised, but I sure felt uncomfortable. I had that heavy, bloated feeling and felt like a balloon fixing to burst, so I took a water pill. I woke up today at 115 right on the nose. Wow, huh?! It won’t last long, I’m sure. I’m sure it’ll be a very occasional thing - me hitting down at 115. This face, though! This fucking face and neck! Will it ever shrink? My face and neck have never been this swollen. Even when I was in the 140s years ago my face and neck weren’t this big. I feel like I’d have to get down to 90 pounds before it’d shrink back to normal size, but that’s just not gonna happen. Maybe when I’m old and dying or if I get some horrible disease, but I’m virtually positive I’ll never be under 110 pounds again. Probably not even under the 115 pounds I awoke at. I’d have to take water pills every day of my life in order to lose a lot more weight and keep it off and that’s not gonna happen either.

Tom was online and downloaded a couple of word processors for me to check out. I haven’t yet, but we did check out some other programs he downloaded. One was this really cool thing that lets you set up to change your wallpaper and screensaver, either in order or randomly. You can have it change every second, every several minutes, or every day, week, month, etc. The thing was great, but it was fucking shareware and limited in its functions. You could only use 3 wallpapers and 3 screensavers. That sucks! So Tom’s gonna see if he can make a program to do more than that.

The other was this so-so thing that adds effects to your screensaver pictures. It flips them, twirls them, and stuff like that.

To my utter amazement and satisfaction, Larry hasn’t called. Great, but does this mean he never read the letter and is returning it to me? I sure hope not. I really hope he read the letter and felt I wasn’t worth calling about it. I want to be the one to have the last word this time and to have him decide to drop it at that. He doesn’t have to agree with a damn thing I said in the letter, but I just hope he read it and will drop it, but if he does call, it’s his dime. I’m not gonna return his call. I have nothing more to say. So, in the end, whether he reads the letter, returns it to me, or calls me - he’s a done deal as far as I’ll always be concerned.

I have no intention of contacting my parents again in any way, but it’s sort of funny in a way what with the message I sent them. I wish I could be there to see the look on their faces when they saw I had found them. How utterly stupid, though! If I were gonna change screen names to avoid someone (although I don’t know why they didn’t just block me out) I’d really change it. Not just use a variation of a name.

Tom said all I have to do to see if a screen name exists is to use the box that searches for members currently online. I don’t know about that, cuz out of curiosity I tried their old screen name, and that came back saying that member wasn’t currently signed on, just like the second screen name did. Then I just started randomly hitting anything and was told these members weren’t currently signed on. I’ll have to ask Tom about it when he gets up and see what he thinks.

[moremorrae]

Shadowmoon Legacy Part 7: Lessons

Another week or so had passed with no word from Jeremy's friend about what was in the strange pack. In all honesty, Charlotte had nearly forgotten the one she'd thrown in her fridge. Her schedule had gotten a bit busier as she had been asked by the Goldmans if she could help their daughter with her studies.

Being a librarian, Michelle and Jenna thought that Charlotte would be perfect for the task... and Charlotte didn't mind the extra income. Repairing the walls in her home would not be cheap after all.

"Right then, let's see if you've been paying attention," Charlotte says as she reaches for Jessica's textbook.

"Try me." She responds with a confident grin.

Charlotte turns to the test practice section of the book. "Ok. What region was founded by Madre Cosecha?"

"Easy, Selvadorada."

"Correct, and the name of the jungle within the region?"

"Uh... Belo... uh Balon... er...." Jessica seemed to struggle a bit to remember the name.

"Belominsia." The answer comes from Michelle as she and Jenna walk through the door, signaling the end of Jessica's study time.

She looks between the adults waiting for the okay to go. Charlotte laughs a bit. "Gon on, we can continue this next time I come over." That was all Jessica needed before she rushed upstairs, eager to be finished studying.

The three of them spoke of various things while Charlotte cleaned up the books she had brought to help Jessica with her studies. Once finished she stood up to leave.

"Well then I should let you all get on with your evening, I think I may need to find a few more history books to fill in some of the gaps in her curriculum but other than that, I'd say Jessica is doing quite well."

As Charlotte moves toward the door a look is shared between Michelle and Jenna. "Why don't I walk you home, I can help carry some of the books you brought with you." Jenna offered. Grateful for the help Charlotte handed some of the books to her and the two headed across the way to Charlotte's home.

As they got to Charlotte's home she turned to Jenna with a smile. "Thank you for the help."

"Oh it's no problem, the least we can do since you're helping with Jessica." She held up the books she carried. "Would you like some help putting these away?"

Charlotte adjusted what she held in order to unlock the door. "Ah, it shouldn't take too long but sure, come on in." Getting the door open Charlotte stepped in, not noticing that Jenna hesitated a moment before following in.

"My, what a... well quaint, place."

"There's no need to pretend, I'm well aware the place is in a sorry state," Charlotte says. "I'm saving up to fix the... walls." Charlotte trails off slightly as she feels a fog settle over her mind. A gentle touch and Charlotte is turned around with Jenna very close.

"For someone so smart, it was quite foolish for a mortal to live amongst us vampires."

The soft whisper is the last thing Charlotte registers before feeling a sharp pain in her neck.

Slowly the fog over her mind only seemed to grow thicker before eventually fading to unconsciousness.

A few hours later Charlotte woke up laying on her couch. The TV left was on some news programming and the books she had brought back from the Goldmans were put neatly away in the small bookshelf she kept. Her head hurt slightly and she didn't quite remember getting home, though considering she was asleep on the couch she assumed she was simply exhausted after a long day. Getting up she heads upstairs to change and sleep the rest of the night in bed.

When she woke up in the morning she still felt incredibly exhausted and found it difficult to get up. Eventually, though she makes her way over to the trunks with her clothes to get her things so she can get ready for work. She froze though as she caught a look at her reflection in the mirror.

At first, she was unsure if it was just a mark on the mirror but even after she rubbed at it on the mirror it was still clearly there. Two small wounds on her neck and a small amount of dried blood trailed from them.

So fun fact, part of why I chose this challenge is I downloaded a lot of vampire-themed pose packs without fully realizing it till I was looking through what I got. Gotta start making use of them in our vampire legacy.

[yourmidnightlover]

all my fault

Request: spencer and y/n are married, and they’ve been trying to have kids, and then she finds out she’s pregnant. a few weeks into the pregnancy, she has a miscarriage, and at the hospital the doctor said it’s bc she had an abortion as a teenager, and it fucked up her it yet us. spencer didn’t know she had an abortion, and blames her for the death of the baby, and they end up sleeping separately for a while and they have to grieve by themselves. spencer ends up talking to emily about it bc of her experience and it has a comforting ending!

Summary: when reader has a miscarriage after trying to have a baby with spencer, and things about her past are revealed and leaves things rocky within their relationship.

CW: miscarriage, pregnancy, mention of abortion, spencer’s rly harsh at first, teenage pregnancy, mentions of surgery, a cervix condition that i kinda made up, depressive thoughts, negative self-worth, HAPPY ENDING. *please let me know if i’ve missed anything*

A/N: i’ve been working on coming up with a series, which i posted last thursday! i’m sorry i haven’t been as consistent with my schedule, this summer has really taken a toll on my mental health and school is about to start back up. i promise i’m not quitting writing, but my writing might become a bit more sporadic in terms of my posting schedule. i’m still not sure if i like how i’ve executed this piece, so please let me know what you think!

IMPORTANT A/N: this contains serious topics centered around pregnancy and abortion. reader end up blaming herself and it is a very triggering subject to some. if you aren’t comfortable with those kinds of depressive thoughts PLEASE DONT READ. i don’t want anyone to be triggered by my writing. your mental health matters. you matter. do not read if your sensitive to the subject matter, please!

———————————————————————

when you and spencer checked the third pregnancy test and saw those two, very clear lines on the stick, you felt an unbelievable amount of joy.

“oh my god,” you clamped your hand over your mouth, your eyes welling with tears.

“y/n…” he held his breath, holding your free hand with both of his own.

“you’re gonna be a dad,” you huffed out a laugh as his arms flew around you.

“and you’re gonna be a mom! we’re gonna have our own little family,” he cheered as he breathed in your scent, elated from the news he had hoped for since you said ‘i do.’

spencer had wanted to be a father since he met henry, you remember how attached he was to the child who wasn’t even his own. you hadn’t always wanted children, only when you were absolutely ready for them. now, you were more than ready.

your arms flew around spencer’s neck as his went around your waist. he dropped to his knees and began pressing kisses against a bump that wasn’t even visible yet, praising you and your body for carrying his child.

because it was so hard for you to get pregnant, spencer decided to baby you every chance he got. you didn’t do the dishes or sweep, you weren’t allowed to reach for high shelves or even step on a chair to do so. he was worried about you and the baby, so you let him. you found it endearing.

the perfect man that you married was so worried about the little bean inside of you, worried for your safety, that it drove him a bit mad. who were you to complain? each time he’d do one of the new little quirks like not letting you lift anything above 10 pounds, you just smiled to yourself and brushed it off.

being pregnant was something that you had lost hope for, in all honesty. spencer had been talking to a few friends who had adopted children prior to finding out you were pregnant. if this hadn’t worked out, the two of you were going to look into adoption.

spencer had planned your doctors appointment for 6 weeks after your last period. the appointment was in three days. and then the perfect outline you had for your future went down in crumbles.

you had been having pains in your lower abdomen, and you figured it was just because you were pregnant. you went to the bathroom like you normally would when you felt queasy, kneeling by the toilet in preparation for what was to come. only nothing came.

you decided to just go pee and get back to bed. there was a pain that wasn’t like you’d felt before when you were peeing, like someone had been pulling your intestines out of your body. when you looked down, you felt your stomach drop.

“spencer!” you cried out. “spencer, hurry!” you felt tears well in your eyes until he ran up beside you. his hand was on your thigh as the other one was trying to steady your shaking hand.

“what is… oh,” he looked in the toilet to see blood inside of it.

“spencer… what happened? i don’t know what happened. everything was doing so well and the baby-we just found out and now they’re-wh-what’s gonna happen?” you rambled out, unsure of how something this horrific happened so quickly.

“i-i don’t know, my love,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “i don’t know. but we’ll go to the hospital right now, okay? we’ll get answers.”

you just nodded. you couldn’t speak anymore. you felt your throat closing in on yourself. you cleaned yourself up and got dressed. even looking in the mirror with spencer’s arms around you, you didn’t feel anything but guilt and worry.

spencer’s touch would usually be something to ease your mind and take away the thoughts of everything else around you. only this was something wrong inside of you. you were the problem this time. and you didn’t think anything could fix this feeling.

“let’s get to the hospital, yea?” you nodded as he held onto your hand, trying to ground you to himself as he guided you to the car.

you were silent the entire drive to the doctor. there was nothing to say. there was nothing to do. there was just… nothing. you were numb.

“hey,” he spoke up, “we don’t know what happened yet. there’s a chance it’s just a fluke, right? the baby might be okay.”

“what’re the statistics, spencer? tell them to me,” you ordered as tears flowed from your eyes.

“y/n…”

“tell me! why don’t you want me to know?!” you accused him, looking over at the man driving as he but his lower lip. “1 in 4 women who experience bleeding during a pregnancy are fine. 25 percent. the other 75 percent of people have either a miscarriage or serious complications. those are the statistics.”

“y/n…” he sighed, “it’s not your fault. you didn’t want this to happen. besides, there’s still a 25 percent chance that nothings wrong.”

“whatever,” you rolled your eyes and opted to look out of the window for the remainder of the drive to the hospital.

-

“alright,” the doctor entered the room. “we have the results from the test and we’ve examined the ultrasound pictures. i’m so sorry, but you’ve had a miscarriage.”

what were you supposed to feel? an overwhelming sense of sorrow? like a failure? like the one thing you wanted most in the world fell through?

“how-how did this happen?” you spoke through the tears. “we were so-we were careful. i didn’t lift heavy objects, i didn’t do repetitive motions, i just… we tried so hard to make this work,” you shook your head in disapproval, as if you wouldn’t accept the answer that had already been proven to you.

“there’s proof of an abortion when you were a teenager. there was severe damage done to your cervix that wasn’t assessed pre-pregnancy. now, we can repair the damage within the next two months, but it will still be difficult to become pregnant after the surgery,” the female informed you.

“then what’s the point of getting the surgery?” you scoffed, looking at spencer who was just staring off in space.

“while getting pregnant will still be difficult, maintaining the pregnancy is much more likely. the fetus would be more protected and secure after the surgery,” she explained with a pitiful smile, you couldn’t help but wonder how she could smile after giving you the worst news of your life.

“right,” you nodded curtly, allowing her to sense the mood of the conversation.

“i’ll leave you two be. i’m so sorry for your loss,” she gave the both of you a pitiful smile before exiting the room, the only sound audible being the closing of the door.

it didn’t feel real. it felt as though you were in a nightmare. only this time, you wouldn’t wake in spencer’s comforting arms. you wouldn’t hear the soft soothing voice of the man you love trying to calm you down. you wouldn’t feel the solace he would provide by merely being himself in your proximity.

the drive home was eerily quiet. there was an inkling of animosity between you. looking over at spencer in the driver’s seat, he had a dead look on his face, the only sign of previous emotion being his red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. he didn’t even look like your spencer. he looked like a stranger in the drivers seat with a cold expression that you could barely read.

you knew this was something you should talk about. when the nurse came back in the room it was only to offer a few referrals go therapists that specialized in this kind of grief. clearly, any couple should talk about losing an unborn baby. but you knew that’s not what spencer was truly upset about.

you waited until you shut the door to your apartment before saying anything.

“maybe we should talk about it?” you whispered, not knowing how he’d react.

“about what? the fact that you’ve lied to me for our entire relationship?!” he wouldn’t even turn around to face you. “i thought we were in this together, y/n. we aren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other - especially not any that just killed our child!”

“hey…” you winced at his words. “why would you say that?”

“that’s the truth! your choices when you were a teenager just killed our child! my child!” he finally turned to face you, and you wished he hadn’t.

“do you think i knew they would botch my abortion, spencer?! do you think that’s what i wanted?!” you stepped closer to him, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“i don’t know what you want anymore, y/n,” he shook his head, clearly exasperated.

“i want you. i want to get the surgery to fix my cervix. i want to grieve our child. i still want kids… with you, spencer,” you tried to ease the mood, calm him down. you reached your hand out to cup his cheek before he dodged your touch, afraid of touching you. “but you don’t want that?” you whispered so quiet, too afraid of the answer to raise your voice.

“i-“ he sighed and bit his lower lip. “i don’t know.”

“right. of course you don’t,” you shook your head before sitting on the couch, dropping your face in your hands.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed as he took off his coat.

“it means that: of course, you’re making this about you! it can’t be about us grieving our loss together like the doctor recommended?!” you peeked between your hands at the man you still didn’t recognize.

“maybe we shouldn’t grieve together since we can’t even have a conversation without getting angry at one another,” he tried to reason.

“the only reason i’m getting mad is because you’re blaming me for my baby’s death,” you spat back at the doctor before you.

“because it’s your fault!” he stood strong in his belief. “when you were a teenager, did you or did you not have an abortion?”

“i did,” you admitted.

“and the nurse said that in said abortion, they screwed your cervix up! if you didn’t have that abortion, our child would still be alive! we would be on our way to become happy parents!” he accused, rubbing salt in the already stinging wound. “it’s your fucking fault!”

“stop saying that,” you shook your head and dropped it back in your hands, trying to hide the tears that began to flow down your face.

“it is, y/n! i can’t believe you’re even trying to say this isn’t!” he chuckled, clearly getting under your skin.

“shut up, spencer!”

“i can’t, y/n!” he sat in the chair across from you before standing back up, too hyper to sit. “no wonder it was so hard for you to get pregnant.”

“spencer,” you begged him to stop, meeting his face with your teary eyes.

“y/n,” he stared you in the eyes, and you saw a glimpse of the man you loved for a second before he retreated to the bedroom.

you sat on the couch in confusion of what had just occurred.

when you were 15, you’re boyfriend was adamant about taking your relationship “to the next step.” you didn’t think you were ready to have sex, but you wanted him to stay with you. so, you gave in. it just so happened to be that you were one of the lucky girls that ends up getting pregnant her first time in spite of birth control and a condom. you couldn’t tell your mom about your pregnancy, she’d have your head on a pole.

so, you earned enough money from your job to get an abortion yourself. you went to a clinic and had your boyfriend’s mom come with you to sign as your guardian. was it smart to get an abortion that cheap? probably not. but you had no other choice. your mom had made it abundantly clear that if she caught you fooling around with him that she’d kick you out.

you were 15. you were young and still had to finish high school. there was no support system for you. you would’ve been on the streets with a little baby - not to mention the amount of debt you’d go into for just giving birth to a child in a hospital. it was the only choice.

and now you were being berated for making the only choice you even had - and by the person you loved most in the world.

you curled into yourself on the couch, laying your head on the arm and crying into the fabric. you released all of the tension and turmoil. you held onto the cushions as if it were the man that you wanted - no, needed to comfort you. because as much as you’d hate to admit it and try to fight those thoughts, part of you thought that spencer was right. it was your fault.

you fell asleep on the couch that night. you didn’t have the strength to get up to grab a blanket so you just sucked it up.

spencer didn’t sleep at all. he was used to having you curled into his chest, or himself on yours. he felt terrible about how he had talked to you, but he was too stubborn to admit anything just yet.

in the middle of the night he went out of the room to grab a glass of water. he saw you curled up in a ball, you head resting on the arm of the couch as you slept. it was the most peaceful you looked in the past 24 hours. but you began shivering as you slept. you were probably too exhausted to get up to do anything.

he went to the hall closet on a detour and grabbed your favorite, soft blanket and laid it on top of your body. after placing a soft kiss on your forehead, he went into the kitchen and made his glass of water before taking one more glance at you. you had snuggled into the blanket, pulling it up to your chin with a gentle smile that always appeared when he kissed your forehead as you slept.

maybe he didn’t screw up too badly, after all.

the next few days were spent avoiding one another. spencer couldn’t face you after knowing you had kept something so dire from him for the entirety of your relationship. you couldn’t face him after he made you feel as though it was your fault you lost your baby.

you would stay on the couch all day, barely eating or drinking anything while spencer would go out - only mentioning the library or the office to do more paperwork. eventually he just started sleeping at morgan’s house - probably because he couldn’t stand being around you.

you didn’t know how to grieve your baby, you were hoping that spencer might help, but that clearly won’t be happening. on top of that, you were worrying about your marriage. he couldn’t even look at you, how was he supposed to talk to you and sleep beside you?

a lot of times, it’s perceived that the only reason women were put on this planet were to have children - of course that’s a false notion, but it didn’t make it sting any less. your body had betrayed you. you had betrayed yourself.

it was only 12 days after spencer left when he came back home, if he could call it that anymore. once he walked into the living room, he saw you curled up in that same position on the couch. you had a blank stare that was directed towards the black tv. the only evidence that you were doing something was the empty water bottles surrounding you - certainly not enough considering he’d been gone for over a week.

when he entered you didn’t even flinch. your gaze stayed on the empty screen and your face remained vacant of any emotion.

in all honesty, morgan was the one to tell spencer he should check on you. spencer hadn’t told him everything about your argument, he knew he was in the wrong. but he was just so angry. regardless, he was here now, and it’s a good thing he was.

you hadn’t been taking care of yourself. spencer had morgan and savannah checking on him, but you had nobody. he only realized this when morgan pointed it out. and as upset as he was, spencer would always love you. your expressionless face only worried him more. your clothes had been changed from when he last saw you, but he doubts you’ve had a shower.

he stayed silent as he began picking up the empty water bottles from around the table and couch. you looked at him quizzically with furrowed brows.

“what’re you doing?” you asked, your chin already quivering as tears threatened to stream down your face.

“i’m trying to help,” he whispered as sensitively as he could, making eye contact with the most pitiful face you’d ever seen.

“i think you’ve helped enough,” you rolled your eyes before resuming your serious stare-down with the television. “you can leave.”

“no, i can’t,” he replied, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch while being sure not to touch you - he didn’t know if you were ready for that.

“you already did,” you brought to his attention, briefly looking at him. “just go.”

“y/n, i-“

“i don’t want to hear it! what’re you gonna say that could make me feel worse, spencer?!” you let the tears fall past your waterline. “i know it’s my fault. i know i screwed up! and i’m sorry! i’m so sorry!” you replied with far too much sincerity, the tears streaming down your face before he scooted closer to you, planning on wrapping his arms around you. “stop! don’t come near me!” you pushed his shoulders away. “it’s my fault,” you lowered your voice significantly before wrapping your arms around yourself.

he had called emily as soon as he got back into the bedroom. he knew she had previously had an abortion when she was a teenager, and he just needed to hear her side of it. part of him didn’t even expect her to pick up the phone.

“reid, what’s wrong?” she immediately answered.

“i-i think i need to talk to you,” he whispered in a hushed tone.

“right now?” she asked in a mildly concerned tone.

“if you can? the sooner the better,” he answered honestly.

“alright. you want to meet somewhere or just come over?”

“can i just come over? it’s really personal and i wasn’t sure who else to go to,” he began tying his shoes and hoping she’d agree.

“of course, come on over,” she replied in a worried voice.

“ok. i’ll be there in twenty.”

he quietly left the apartment, not before sparing you a regretful glance. he lost his child, but you also lost your child as well. he just couldn’t control his anger. and partially, he thought he was right.

how could you not have told him about something so serious? the second you had began having issues getting pregnant, maybe you should’ve been open about previous pregnancies.

“hey,” emily greeted before giving him a hug after seeing his teary eyes. “come inside.”

“thanks,” he sniffled before stepping into her apartment.

she guided him into her living room and sat down on the couch beside him. they sat there for a few silent minutes before he was able to work up enough courage.

“y/n was pregnant,” he whispered, barely audible if she weren’t right beside him.

“was,” she pointed out, already feeling as though she knew the rest of the story.

“she uhm-she miscarried two weeks ago,” he somberly admitted for the first time to someone else. “the doctor said it was because she had an abortion when she was a teenager that somehow ruined her cervix.”

“and that’s why you felt like you needed to talk to me?” she gathered, she was a great profiler for a reason but this was far more obvious.

“i was pretty harsh. i-i told her it was her fault,” he bit his lower lip as he grimaced. “i really rubbed it in, too.”

“spencer… “ she sighed, taking a deep breath before continuing. “you’re mourning a life, right now. obviously, that would raise tensions and emotions would be heightened. but… have you apologized? for telling her it was her fault?”

“no?” he replied after thinking about it. “i was going to do that today but she’s… she’s not in good shape. i’m not saying she needs to be perfect, but while i was at derek’s i can tell she didn’t take care of herself. she barely drank any water.”

“did you ask her why she had an abortion? why she didn’t tell you? did you ask her anything about how she’s feeling?” emily asked once more.

“no,” he cowered down, feeling even worse about the truthful answer. “i was just… selfish. i didn’t think about how she’s feeling. i just-i feel so bad now, seeing what state she’s in.”

“when i got an abortion it was because i wasn’t ready for a child,” she began to inform him. “i was a child, myself. how was a child supposed to take care of another one? my mother would’ve been disgraced. i basically had nobody there for me. i kept it a secret because having an abortion is so controversial. i knew people would look at me differently for making a responsible decision for my future.”

“god, i feel so bad,” he began to tear up himself. “i love her so much and i told her these horrible things.”

“make it right, spencer,” she gave him a supportive smile and pat his thigh before he stood up.

“i-i have to go,” he wiped the tears from his face before giving emily a hug, grateful she would listen to him at such an ungodly hour.

he quickly drove back home, where he decidedly belonged in the first place. he never should’ve left home. he never should’ve left you. you were his home, and he didn’t know how he could possibly lose sight of that.

“y/n,” he cooed as he entered the apartment once more. it was noticeably a bit more clean. the trash was taken out, the dishes were done, and your hair was wet from a shower - he assumed. “hey,” he smiled when he saw you sitting on the bed, cheeks still red and tear-stained with red, puffy eyes.

“hi,” you sighed as you brushed your hair, spencer sat down beside you.

“how’re you feeling?” you shrugged. “i need to apologize to you,” he admitted, placing a hand on your thigh. “i’m so, so sorry for what i said. telling you that it’s your fault that we lost our child… i-there’s no excuse. i was clearly upset, but so were you. what i said was so out of line, and i’ll never be able to express how sorry i am to you.”

“you’re right,” you shrugged. “it was my fault.”

“no,” he rubbed his thumb on your skin. “it was not your fault. i’m so sorry i made you believe that.”

“when i was 15 my boyfriend at the time pressured me to have sex. we used a condom and i was in birth control but i still-i still ended up pregnant,” you began, taking a deep breath before continuing. “i couldn’t tell my mom because she would’ve kicked me out, so i saved up some money and had his mom take me to a cheap clinic. she signed as my mom and i got the procedure done. that was the end of it,” you finished tears streaming down your face. “a few weeks after the procedure i started having pains in like my lower back, but i didn’t think anything of it. so… it is my fault. i shouldn’t have gone to a cheap clinic, but i couldn’t live on the streets with a baby and no way to clothe or feed them.”

“y/n,” he got your attention, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “you were a teenager who had no other choice, love. it’s not your fault, it’s the clinic’s.”

“i just… it hurts so bad, spencer,” you shook your head in defeat before he wrapped his arms around you. “not even just emotionally, my body physically hurts so bad. i don’t know what to do and i thought i lost you and i didn’t know what i would do without you because i didn’t think you loved me anymore because it’s my fault,” you ranted out, sobbing into his shoulder before he moved the two of you around the bed to lay down, you on his chest.

“i’m so sorry you had to go through that, and that you’re still dealing with the repercussions,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “but know that i’m not leaving you. i love you and nothing will ever change that.”

“there’s nothing we can do now,” you whined, clutching to his shirt as if he’d disappear once more.

“we can go to the recommended therapy. we can get that surgery to fix your cervix,” he reminded you, rubbing circles onto your back as you sniffled. “then, if you’d like, we could try again for a baby.”

“so you still want to be with me?” you whispered by his ear, clearly worried of the answer.

“of course i do,” he said as if there were no other option; there wasn’t. “i’m so, so sorry, love.”

“the reason i didn’t tell you is because,” you sighed as you shuffled on top of spencer, now sitting on his lap and facing him. “because there’s this stigma that comes with having an abortion - and i didn’t know how you’d react. i also didn’t know it didn’t go well in the first place, but that’s a different story,” you chuckled. “i’m sorry. i should’ve told you about something so serious.”

“you don’t have to apologize,” he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “that was from your past. this is our future, we shouldn’t get caught up on it and allow it to ruin this.”

you nodded, “you’re right. are-are you staying here, now? or are you going back to derek’s?” there was an obvious look of hope in your eye that spencer never planned on squashing.

“i’m staying here,” he smiled. “home. you’re my home.”

“you’re so cheesy,” you rolled your eyes as a laugh left your lips.

“i’ve missed your smile,” he pressed a kiss to those very lips, your smile not going away but growing even bigger.

“i’ve missed you,” you pointed at his chest. “please don’t leave again.”

“i won’t. ever again,” you held your pinky out, he smiled and wrapped his own around it. “i’m so sorry.”

“we’ll work at it,” you sighed. “we’ll build back the trust and fix my stupid cervix and then maybe try again for a baby.”

over the next few months spencer and you had been going to therapy once a week, mourning the loss of your baby and working through your other issues.

five months after you found out about the miscarriage, you had the surgery to fix your cervix.

one year after you fixed your cervix you and spencer began talking about having a child. you were extremely nervous, rightfully so. you voiced your concerns to spencer about what if the surgery didn’t work? what if your cervix wasn’t the only issue? and he replied by reminding you that you would both take this one step at a time.

seven months after having the conversation with spencer about having children, a miracle had caught up to you.

you were pregnant.

taglist:

@averyhotchner

@greenprisca

@muffin-cup

@spenxerslut

@spencerreid9

@spencyreidpls

@spencerreid9

@spencersmagic

@calm-and-doctor

@the-local-pendeja

@spencersrose

@spencersmagic

@shemarmooresfedora

@pastelbabygirl19

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please don’t hesitate to message me or leave a comment!

[whereisten]

No Overnight Stays (m)

Summary: you’re an escort assigned to a different man for each day of the week. The rules are simple and strict, the money is grand, and simply put, you enjoy your job. But what happens when you start to develop feelings for one—or maybe two—of your clients?

Pairing: Female reader x Mark (x Jaehyun)

Genre: sugar baby!reader, smuttttt, a little fluff and a dash of angst :/ sorry, love triangle

Warnings: alcohol use, cursing, descriptive smut (breast fondling, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), cockwarming, slight somnophilia, facial, threesome, cream pie, impregnation kink, dirty talk, sir kink, hair pulling and spanking, double penetration, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, unprotected sex (be safe tho!), rough sex) I hope that’s it lmaooo

Word Count: 5.5K

————-

A man for every day of the week. That was your agreement with your escort agency. They’d set up your schedule so that you’d “belong” to one man for a specific day of the week. 

Some days you’d have sex with them, some days you were just their company or a place for them to go when they got tired of their spouses.

But either way, you were paid very handsomely for your services. All you had to do was have your phone on and make sure you were available to provide the services asked of you within the hour. They all had keys to your apartment, so they could let themselves in and wait if you weren’t there.

It was easy and luckily for you, the men you dealt with were all young business men that respected you. Some were rough and demanding, some were soft and shy, but they all made sure you were comfortable with their requests and granted you a safe word. Furthermore, the agency provided you with emergency buttons for you to place in every room, just in case one of your clients got out of hand.

Tonight, you had just finished up with Yuta, an incredibly handsome man that was away from his wife back home in Japan for a 6 month job venture. A pal of his suggested the agency to him so that his needs would be satisfied while he was away from home and based on his preferences and desires, you were his top choice.

He was kind and careful, whispering sweet words into your ear as he fingered you and got you ready. He treated you like you were his wife, and you often felt your face become warm. But when he was inside you, he pushed deep and hard, making sure his hips met with your ass as he bent you over the table.

“Ahh fuck..” he curses while releasing himself into you and tugging on your hair harshly.

He pants and pulls himself out, watching as his cum mixed with yours leaks down your shaking legs.

“Did you eat?” He asks, zipping his pants as he watches you pull your panties back up.

“No not yet, but I have some leftover spaghetti that is calling my name.”

You move your hair out of your face.

“I can grab something for you before I leave..what would you like?” Yuta shimmies his jacket onto his toned body.

He was always sweet like this, unlike some men that just left.

“Ohh—Hmm...there’s a place—“ you started but his phone interrupted you.

“Oh..I’m sorry..it’s her..” He looks up at you slowly and you can see the regret fall on his face. He really loved his wife, he couldn’t help but feel guilty sometimes.

“I-I have to go.”

He turns to leave and you walk behind him to lock the door.

“Hey hun! I just left work!” His voice echoes in the hallway.

You sigh and walk to your bathroom with a slight limp. Yuta always stretched you out and left you aching slightly, but you knew it was something a little warm water would fix.

While you stood under the hot water like a sinner bathing in hell, you thought about your life. Were you really happy? Sure, the easy money you made and the “free” upscale apartment you lived in were amazing. How could you ask for more?

Well that’s just the thing, your heart didn’t care about these material things sometimes, it wanted a person. Someone that would love you, really love you. However, with a lifestyle like this, how could you expect to find a partner that would be okay with it? How could you devote time to them?

You shook your head and stepped out of the grand shower.

You poured yourself some wine and sat by yourself on the couch. It was a typical night for you. When all the fun was over, you were alone.

———

[The Next Day]

You went grocery shopping when Mark dinged you on the agency’s app. He’d be at your apartment soon so you needed to wrap things up and get back.

Mark was possibly your favorite client. The young single man was very gentle and always asked what you wanted to do. Of course, he knew that he wanted to have sex and that’s what he paid for, but he didn’t feel comfortable with handling your arranged situation that way.

Some days you’d just watch a few movies or go for coffee together. Some days he’d show you new restaurants or museums while you hung onto his arm like an actual girlfriend. He wasn’t afraid to bring you with him anywhere because the truth was that he wanted you to be his...and not just in the sexual or physical way. He wanted to date you.

Having been so consumed with work all the time, he found that you were one of the few things that made him relax and be happy, he could experience life with you and he was incredibly thankful for that.

“Hey Mark!” You struggle to get into your apartment with both arms filled with bags.

“Oh, let me get that for you.” He rushes over from the dining table and to the door to help you in.

After settling all of the bags onto the table, he chuckles. “So I take it you don’t like making two trips?”

You giggle and shake your head. “No..absolutely not. I don’t wanna waste precious time that I could be spending with you.” You teased him and stepped closer.

You held out your arm and flexed it, embarrassingly enough, no muscles showed through. “Plus, can’t you see how strong I am?”

Mark laughs out and leans forward to kiss you.

He holds your face in his hands like you were made of glass, gently caressing your cheeks as your tongue dances with his.

Your arms wrap around his waist so you feel his warm chest on yours. Your eyes shut immediately and you smelled his fresh cologne, like cotton.

He pulls away, kissing your forehead as you regain your steady breathing.

“What do you want to do today?”

Your heart races at his question. You wanted to cuddle, to just be with someone and feel loved. But that would be pushing the terms and conditions.

You search your apartment to avoid his gaze, but he knew you were deep in thought, his kiss had sent your mind into a wild frenzy. What did it mean when an escort was affected by such measly things? 

“Come on..don’t think too hard now, tell me what’s the first thing that came into your mind?” Mark leans forward to whisper low into your ear. His voice, deep and husky, makes you even more confused.

You finally look up at him and sigh. “Ahh Mark, you make me feel..” You shake your head.

Were you about to be honest with him and tell him about your growing crush?

His eyes grow and a smile creeps across his face.

“Like sleeping..” You look down again, never seeing his face fall.

“Oh, dude..am I that boring?”

You chuckle and look back up at him to see the genuine hurt in his eyes.

You shake your head and press your hand onto his chest. “No-No, you’re not..it’s just..”

“Y/n...why do you keep looking at me like that?” Mark knew there was something else you wanted, he could see the doubt in your eyes, the internal struggle you faced was coming to the surface. He also knew you drank the night before based on the empty bottle of wine in the living room.

“I-I don’t know,” You chuckle and step away from him. “Maybe I’m still a little hungover. I’m sorry.”

You start to take your things out of your bags. “Help me out, will you?” You pout.

Mark chuckles and takes the bread out of the bag. “I can’t believe I’m paying for this.”

You shrug your shoulders. “You’re the one that asked me what I want to do.”

He sighs. “Okay, touché. But after this, we’ll cuddle and sleep since you’re tired and/or hungover.”

Yeah, it was 6 in the evening, but Mark was just happy to be with you.

“Sounds good.”

After you put everything away, you took Mark to your room and sat him down on the bed.

You took his hoodie off over his head, ruffling his hair in the process. You ran your fingers through it, watching as his wide eyes gazed up at you like you were an angel.

He places both hands on either side of your waist, watching as you unbutton your cardigan in front of him slowly. Mark grows hotter and hotter with each button coming undone, a slight sliver of your beautiful, soft skin growing into your naked chest drives him crazy.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

He licks his lips, tightening his grip on your waist as he brings you down onto his lap. He wastes no time, latching into your nipple and sucking it. His tongue flicks across the nub while your hands run through his scalp, causing a low groan to escape his body.

He aches for you, his member strains against his sweatpants. You feel it press onto your jeans as you also get hot. With the way Mark’s spit coats your breasts, you’re sure you’d be showing through your jeans how aroused you are soon enough.

Your room becomes steamy suddenly, the two of you filling it with moans and whimpers as he massages your breasts.

“B-baby..I want you..” You whine and grind down onto him. 

Mark loves when you call him that while begging for more.

He places you down onto the bed, helping you take your jeans off as your mouth falls open.

He drags your panties down your legs slowly, teasingly.

“Baby..please..”

“I thought you wanted to sleep?” He raises an eyebrow as he pries your legs open and moves his face to the space created.

He focuses on your heat, licking his lips when he sees how wet you are already.

“Yeah..but..” your sentence is cut short when he licks a long stripe along your entrance.

“Mark!” You yelp as his tongue surprises you.

He kisses the inner skin of your thigh while still gripping the crooks of your knees. “Yes, sweetheart. Do you want me to stop? Does the little baby want to sleep?”

He asks with a mocking tone, but not without brushing two digits over your clit. You gasp and flinch under him.

“You’re so cruel..” 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll just fuck you to sleep if that’s what you want.”

He says before pushing his fingers in harder, finding that fleshy spot instantly as your legs widen more. He kisses your bud while looking up at you through dark eyes.

“Am I the best one?” He asks innocently, fingers still pumping in and out of your soaking entrance.

“Y-yes..” you immediately answer without thinking, your mind solely focused on the building tension in your stomach.

He moves his head up and down as he licks your clit. He just needs to apply a bit more pressure and you’ll be in the clouds.

You intertwine your fingers with locks of his luscious brown hair and arch your back.

“More baby, please.”

“Oh look at you begging..” he breathes against your aching pussy.

He fingers pump harder and caress that one spot that he knows will have you reeling in just a few minutes.

“You know..I think you should just be mine..will you be mine?”

He says in between kisses on your clit.

And you’re so close, all you can do is nod and whimper.

You lick your lips while looking at the gorgeous man in between your legs. He locks eyes with you as his tongue works wonders on your core when combined with his fingers.

You clench around him from the sight. He chuckles and cracks a smile at how easily you fall apart. But he doesn’t let you experience the so desperately needed orgasm you need. He withdraws his fingers, a pop echoes into the room. 

“Mark?!” You cry out at the sudden emptiness.

Mark mimics your pout and hovers over you.

“Why don’t you answer my question first?”

You caress his face and lick your lips. “Can we talk about this later?”

He shakes his head. “It’s a simple question, y/n. I know you feel it too.”

He was right, you did feel a connection with him, but you couldn’t let him know that. You could lose your job.

“Mark..” you whisper low as you bring his face closer to yours. You lock eyes with him, your gaze shifting from an innocent one to one that is filled with lust and fire.

“The only thing I want to feel right now is your cock..I just want to feel it so deep in my silky, wet pussy.”

He swallows hard as you push your body up slightly to rub your entrance against his crotch.

“Come on, baby..fill me up...I won’t let a single drop escape”

Mark can’t take your lustful words any longer. He pushes his prior thoughts to the side and focuses on easing his painfully hard cock.

He immediately pushes his waistband down and looks into your eyes as he pushes into you. You moan as you feel completely satisfied by his long and girthy cock filling you up and touching all parts of your velvety walls instantly.

He watches your head fall into the pillow behind you and kisses your neck.

“God..I hate the way you make me so fucking horny that I forget what I was even asking..”

It was a lie, Mark knew exactly what he was asking, but decided to push it away since you wouldn’t give in to him.

He rarely cursed when he was with you, a part of you felt that you had awoken something deep within him so you decided to push him along further. He thrusts into you slowly and gently like he usually did. Mark was your typical vanilla sex partner and it made for a great balance to the opposite partners you had. But you wanted to see just how riled up he could get.

“Oh, Mark, just yesterday another man fucked me until I couldn’t walk..how can I be yours if you can’t compete with men like that?”

You hold his face in your hand and look into his eyes.

He chuckles and pushes into you hard and sudden.

“If that’s what you want, Princess, that’s all you have to say..you know I can do whatever you ask.”

“Be rough with me, make me yours..baby.”

He presses your knees far apart and lifts himself up from your chest.

He slides in and out of you hard, watching as your breasts move up and down from his thrusts.

“You’re the perfect fit for me."

He tilts his head to the side and goes deeper.

His cock curves into you at the perfect angle, making you clench and arch your back more.

You’re sprawled out under him, your knees to your chest as you bite your bottom lip and feel that tension build again.

He runs a hand down your warm chest and stomach, his fingers draw circles onto your skin, causing small fires to dance across it. The pads of his fingertips then lift the skin above your pussy, exposing your clit to him.

He taps it gently and hums to himself. “So pretty..”

He thrusts into you hard as you squeal.

His other hand finds your throat and grips it.

“Gonna fuck you to sleep just like you asked..but then..I won’t leave..I’ll stay inside your pretty pussy since it’s mine..and I’ll fuck it again in the morning...since it’s mine.”

Mark wasn’t asking anymore. He was going to make you his. And as much as you wanted that to happen, you were nervous as you had a job to fulfill. If he stayed over and into the next morning, he’d be cutting into your other client’s day. You could be caught with him and receive a complaint for breaking the “no overnight stays” rule.

“I’m so close..” You run your hands down his abs and watch as he pounds into you from above. He pants heavily, his palm feels sweaty around your throat.

“Can’t wait to cum deep inside you..nothing will leak out..Isn’t that right, baby?” His fingertips move faster into your clit. Mark was always great at finding your sweet spots and it was because he truly cared about your pleasure.

You nod and clench around him again, feeling the head of his cock twitch.

His movement stutters from the action, he falls forward as his grip on your neck tightens.

He cums into your body, filling you to the brim with everything he has. 

You climax as well, scratching into his back as you arch into him more. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you curse.

That was the first of many climaxes for that night. You’d take breaks in between, but soon Mark was eating you out or fingering you until your nails dug into his back and you cried out his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear. 

He wasn’t letting up on his promise to make you his, as each orgasm was intense and left you feeling dizzy. He was unlike any partner you had, making sure to care for your needs more than he did for his. He never even asked that you kiss him anywhere else but his mouth. 

Mark releases your throat and lays on top of your sweaty body as you both climax one last time.

“You really aren’t leaving, are you?”

“I meant what I said. You’re mine.”

A brief moment of silence rests between the two of you as you massage his scalp.

“I mean, I can leave if you want me to..”

He looks up at you with round, doe eyes and your heart breaks.

“No—no..stay..” Sleep takes you over suddenly.

He watches your cute face and smiles. “Mind if I wake you up in the best way possible?” 

You chuckle with your eyes closed.

“And how will you do that?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see..”

He lays back down and falls asleep on your chest.

———

[The Next Morning]

It’s the afternoon of the next day when Mark wakes up before you do and finds his cock engulfed in your pussy still.

He swallows hard, immediately feeling himself grow when he sees your eyes closed as you pout your lips and breathe heavily.

“Y/n..” He whispers, but your eyes don’t open yet.

“Y/n..” He says once more, this time he picks himself up and cages you in between his arms as he holds himself up above your head.

He kisses your forehead. “Wake up, Princess.”

He then buries his head into the crook of your neck and fondles your breast. 

He couldn’t hold back much longer, but he wanted you to be awake first. He lays sloppy kisses onto your shoulder before biting it.

“Mmm..Mark..” You say drowsily.

And with the sound of your soft voice and the feeling of your delicate fingers on his waist, Mark begins to thrust into you.

Your eyes are still closed as he fucks you into consciousness, the post-dream haze combined with his kisses and long thrusts makes you feel light headed.

“How does it feel, baby?”

He moves in and out of you while panting.

You mumble something while enjoying the warmth of his pulsing body on yours. He presses his thumb on your clit, rubbing circles. 

“Mm..faster, baby.” you mumble as your heat grows, your eyes closed while you enjoy your realistic dream.

He then intertwines his fingers with yours, and moves into you faster. Within just a few minutes he cums hard as you shake around him.

And it’s not until he pulls out of you and flips onto his back that he realizes there’s another man in the room.

At the edge of the bed stands a tall handsome man with black hair. He stares sternly onto your body with his hands in the pockets of his suit jacket.

“Oh shit!” Mark is frightened and quickly drapes the blanket over you.

“Who the hell are you?” He asks.

You finally pry your eyes open and scratch your head.

“It’s me...y/n.”

“N-no no I mean..who is that and why is he just staring? Dude.. what the hell?!”

“What?” You rub your eyes and look up. And as your eyes focus you see that sure enough it was your Tuesday client, Jaehyun, staring intensely at you.

“Oh fuck..” You struggle to sit up straight in the bed. “Jaehyun..I’m so sorry, I overslept and-and..”

“Shhh..it’s okay, y/n..” His voice is sweet, but his face says the opposite.

“I see someone has gotten quite greedy with you..”

You turn to Mark, and it all comes back to you. He said he would stay over and you knew the risk you were taking, but you allowed him to anyway.

“Do you want me to push the emergency button?” Jaehyun asks smoothly.

“N-no! That won’t be necessary, I let him stay over actually..”

Your face becomes warm, it feels like you were caught by a parent with your boyfriend.

“I didn’t hear my phone go off with the alert saying you’d be coming over, I’m so sorry but he can leave and I’ll get cleaned up and we can start, just give me a few minutes—“

You start to get off the bed, but Jaehyun raises his hand.

“It’s okay, y/n..I know you see other men, that’s your job, isn’t it?” Jaehyun smirks.

He was one of those clients whose calm demeanor was difficult to read. He was intimidating and made you feel like you were up for terrible punishment at any moment. You never seemed to answer his questions to his satisfaction. In part to his recent divorce, he was rough, unforgiving, a stark contrast to Mark who just sat there awkwardly on the bed.

You nod slowly.

His gaze turns to Mark, his hands still in his pockets. “Was my slut good for you?”

“My?” Hold on..she doesn’t belong to you and no, she’s not a slut..”

Without moving his eyes, Jaehyun calls out to you. “Y/n...remove the blanket and open your legs for me..”

You immediately do as he says, but Mark stops you by holding your wrist. “Hey, you don’t have to do that.”

“It’s okay, Mark. This is what I do, please don’t forget that.” You give him a small smile as you lift the blanket.

You bend your knees while widening your legs.

You can feel the cool air hit your moist entrance.

“Now look at her, Mark...look at how much cum is in her beautiful pussy..only a slut can look like that..”

“Oh fuck off..”

“No, YOU fuck off, you’re cutting into my time..or don’t..”

Jaehyun loosens his tie and takes his jacket off.

“As a matter of fact, let’s see how much prettier she looks when she’s filled up with both of us, what do you say Mark?”

Mark begins to panic and turns to you. 

“What..“

“Stay...I want to make you feel good too..” you say, knowing that Jaehyun’s proposal wasn’t really a question. He was going to find some way to make Mark stay, it was his way of punishing both him and you.

“Good girl..” Jaehyun zips his pants down, revealing his already hard member. He grew when he watched Mark fuck you out of your sleep. He wanted to do that badly, but understood long ago the rules for this agreement. One of them being “no overnight stays.” But Mark clearly didn’t respect this. Maybe he thought you were his, but surely he was wrong.

Jaehyun wanted you just as badly as he did, and he wouldn’t stop until you were his.

“On your stomach, sweetheart, show him what your mouth can do..”

“Yes, sir.” You’re still weak from the night before but do as you’re told.

“Y/n..you don’t have to..” Mark caresses your face with his thumb.

“I know..but I want to..”

“She wants to please us..isn’t that right, slut?” Jaehyun brings an arm under your stomach to bring your ass up towards him.

“Y-yes, sir.” You struggle to get out once you feel his cock rub against your thigh.

You start by wrapping your hand around Mark’s semi-flaccid length, you pump it up and down while twisting. He groans and sits up straight.

Jaehyun enters you from behind, gripping your hip tightly as he pushes into you hard.

You moan loudly as his long cock stretches you out without warning.

“Ahh..fuck.” You gasp.

He slaps your ass hard, you stumble slightly on your knees but Mark helps you stay up.

“Don't be like that, sweetheart, I see how wet you are. Now, open your fucking mouth.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You whimper then lick Mark’s tip.

“You’re just a slut with cum leaking out of you all the time, you’re always ready, aren’t you?”

You kiss Mark’s tip then answer Jaehyun. “Yes, sir.”

He hums and slaps your ass again.

He rubs his hand over the area to feel it become warm.

He then pulls back and watches his veiny cock glisten with cum.

Meanwhile, you take half of Mark’s length into your mouth and begin to suck, rubbing the tip on the inside of your cheek as you listen to him groan.

Jaehyun buries himself deep inside you again, pushing past your vibrating entrance and deep into your walls where he feels his cock be greeted with that ticklish spot.

You move your head lower and allow spit to coat Mark’s entire length.

“God..that feels good.” He moans as his head falls back.

You suck harder and continue to twist your hand around his base.

You hum to push him along with vibrations.

The sounds of Jaehyun’s hips slapping against your ass gets louder as he glides in faster.

“Her pussy gets wetter and wetter, tsk tsk what a slut.” 

He pushes harder, bending over your back so his abs rest against it. He grabs your hair and pushes your head down onto Mark faster.

You gag and tears escape your eyes as Mark’s length hits the back of your throat repeatedly.

You gag over and over, causing the two men to become even hotter than they were before.

“That’s it, sweetheart, cry for me..”

And you did cry as your throat became irritated and your pussy was being destroyed from the back, Jaehyun stretched it out more than he ever did, but you didn’t want to stop. 

You felt like you were being undone, like you wouldn’t be able to talk or walk after, but it didn’t matter, just as long as you pleased these two men.

Jaehyun’s hand finds your clit, slapping against it before rubbing circles onto it.

You moan loudly, sending a delicious vibration onto Mark. He whimpers and pulls out of your mouth, before watching spurts of white leave his tip and decorate your mouth and tongue.

Your mouth stays open as Jaehyun pulls your head back towards him now. Your breasts jump forward and back as Mark pants and watches you be brought to paradise by another man.

“Sir..I’m going to..”

Jaehyun grunts. “You don’t deserve to cum, but I’ll let you because you’re a needy slut.”

And with that, you quiver around Jaehyun, gripping the pillows and shaking uncontrollably.

Mark feels himself becomes aroused yet again from the sight.

Jaehyun pulls out quickly and sits against the headboard. He picks your body up and puts you over his lap, but doesn’t push his cock into you yet.

“Mark..I think you should return the favor.” Jaehyun says as he grabs the crook of your knees with each hand opens you up.

Mark gladly agrees and puts his head in between your legs once more. He licks up your essence and begins to eat you out, nuzzling his nose against your clit as you cry out. 

Jaehyun takes your chin and turns your fucked out face towards his while you struggle to close your legs. 

“S-sir..please, it’s too much.”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “Nothing is too much for a whore like you..Mark loves your pussy, and so do I.”

He kisses your shoulder as a strand of hair dangles in his forehead.

He flicks your nipples with his fingers, watching as you fall apart in his arms.

Mark’s head moves from side to side as he licks your bud and pushes as hard as he can.

“Look at you..open wide for two men.”

Jaehyun whispers into your ear as you tremble. “We won’t stop until we’ve both put a baby in you...but you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes..fuck..yes..sir.”

Soon, you’re cumming again and seeing stars.

Mark pulls away and wipes his mouth, watching as your wetness ruins the sheets below you.

“Do you think she can take us both?” Jaehyun still plays with your hard nipples.

Mark chuckles. “I’m not really into sharing..but we should find out.” He caresses your face again as your mouth falls open.

He puts his thumb into it, watching as you suck it hard with your teary eyes wide.

Jaehyun lifts you up slightly so he can enter you again.

You fall onto him easily but whimper as you try to overcome your sensitivity.

Jaehyun forces you open wide with his hands on your knees, your feet dig into the bed as you bounce up and down on him. His touch sends electricity through your veins. 

Mark holds his cock in his own hand, stroking it while watching you fall onto Jaehyun’s length.

Your beautiful entrance is soaked and he just wants to feel it too.

Jaehyun looks into Mark’s hungry eyes and lets out a low growl.

“Go on, Mark. Fuck her like the needy whore she is.”

Jaehyun scoots down on the bed more so he is laying under you. Mark lays down over you and guides his tip along your slit.

“Mark..” you cry out while Jaehyun thrusts into you from below.

“Are you sure?” He licks his lips.

You nod and take his length into your own hand. “Yes..”

You push him into you slowly as Jaehyun pauses his movement. Your head falls back as your pussy is stretched out once more. You’d never done this before, but then again, you’d never been with two men.

“Shit...” you close your eyes tightly as both men fill you up.

Jaehyun sits up, holding you in his arms as he guides you up and down both his and Mark’s cocks now. 

You’re so right and Mark is embarrassed to admit that he is just moments from climaxing already, the friction of two cocks against your tight silky walls driving all of you crazy.

“Mmm..sweetheart, you’re doing so well..”

Jaehyun whispers. His tone is gravelly and he is just moments away also, sweat pricking at his forehead as you glide onto him.

The sound of skin against skin and loud moans and groans fills the room, you wonder if your neighbors will make a complaint. But right now, in this moment of complete ecstasy, you could care less.

Jaehyun’s tip twitches, vibrating against Mark’s and hitting your g-spot. You all come undone within seconds and experience an orgasm that lasts for what feels like an eternity.

All three of you collapse onto the bed, and you and Jaehyun fall asleep soon after. You should’ve cleaned yourself up, but your body aches and feels weak after orgasming so many times.

After 20 minutes of just watching you sleep, Mark gets up from the bed and goes to your bathroom. He comes back with a washcloth and cleans you up gently while watching you snore lightly.

Jaehyun’s back is turned to you so he can’t see Mark taking care of you by cleaning your exhausted body.

Before he leaves, he drapes your blanket over you and kisses your forehead. He also leaves a bouquet of flowers that he bought from someone selling them just outside of your apartment building. He went back to your apartment just to leave them there for you when you woke up. But really, he just wanted one last chance to see your beautiful face as you slept peacefully.

You wake up hours later to find yourself alone once again. You hop out of bed but soon remember what happened based on the aching feeling in your legs.

You’re happy to see that you're clean however, the sticky feeling of cum no longer being all over you. Someone must’ve cleaned you up, you thought to yourself.

With a limp, you walk out to your kitchen and see take-out food on your counter with a note attached, beside it you also see a bouquet of flowers. 

“Thanks for today, see you next week. Love, J.”

Jaehyun left you food, flowers, and cleaned you up before he left. Maybe he did care for you after all. This is what you thought as you smiled to yourself.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Rules: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: You two have one rule when it comes to your hookups: don't fall in love. So what happens when one of you breaks that rule? (based on a anon request that Tumblr ATE UP)

wc: 1.8k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

You're riding him as fast as you can, hands cupping your breasts and tweaking your nipples.

"God, this feels so damn good," Suguru hisses beneath you, eyes holding yours captive. His hand moves away from your left breast, sliding down your stomach and resting on your clit.

"Mmm... Su..." you breathe, your hands pressed on either side of him as your hips slam into his. "That's perfect."

Panting, sweating messes. That's what you're both reduced to every Friday evening when he comes through your door and fucks you until you can't walk. And he leaves before sun-up, just as you ask, placing the spare key beneath the mat at the door after he locks up behind himself.

"You gonna cum soon?" Suguru wonders, but not because he wants to rush you. No, you look down in those onyx eyes and see his desire to withhold himself from cumming for just a little bit longer. He wants to feel your walls rock against his length for as long as he can before giving himself up to you. Suguru loves it when you spasm around his cock - and loves it when you squirt even more - but every single time, he cums right after you. It's not because he's weak; no, that's never been the case.

Your pleasure means so much to him. And when he delivers you the best, toe-curling orgasm of the week, you can't help but let yourself indulge in the sensations and ride it out as well.

But the first caveat to your little arrangement was Rule #1: that neither of you could fall in love. The moment one of you catches feelings, it's over. And you were starting to see that it could very well be Suguru that catches feelings, just like all of the ones who came before him.

The only difference between them and this black-haired devil beneath you was that he'd not only lasted a full six months, but he was the only one that could truly satisfy you. You never felt like Suguru used you as a fuck toy or masturbated into your body just for the feeling of a warm cunt surrounding his twitching cock. Your pleasure meant something to him, even if he left before daylight.

Those are your rules, however.

Soft lips bring you back to the present, and a gentle scrape of the teeth against the flesh of your breast makes you moan loudly.

"Suguru, I--"

"Hush, y/n," he mutters, tongue darting out to flick your nipple. "I'm not done with you yet."

Rule #2: no pet names. And he'd stuck to it, only calling you by your name as he fucked you into the couch, or moaned your name as you came around his length.

"Fuck..." you breathe as he sucks on your breasts over and over again, switching between the two at his leisure. And still, he's bouncing you on his dick, making you shudder.

Rule #3: Condoms. Every. Single. Time. And Suguru never came empty-handed.

You'd gotten rid of men the first time they came over without a condom and blamed it on their brain, even though you kept a stash hidden in the bottom cabinet of the bathroom. Those were reserved for hookups with men who weren't on your schedule or for when you used your strap-on; not for "forgetful" people.

"Oh, shit," you breathe. "I think I'm going to cum..." Suguru nods, pressing you against his chest and speeding up his strokes.

God damn, he's intuitive, you think as he brings you to the edge and tips you over like only he can. When you shudder and whimper in his ear, Suguru grunts softly, hips stuttering as he cums right behind you. It's always been like this, you muse, kissing the man deeply and with feeling. It's never going to change.

_____________________________________________________________

Change comes when you first step into the high-end department store, and you spot a silk gold and black tie hanging on a display.

"Suguru would like that," you think aloud, imaging him tying it on just like he takes them off before wrapping them around your h-- You smack your cheek, waking yourself up from the semi-lewd fantasy. You forget all about the occurrence until you pass by the cologne department, and catch a whiff of a familiar scent.

"Miss," you ask, stopping in front of an associate. "What's that scent?" When the lady rattles off some famous cologne brand, you inhale the fresh scent again, suddenly transported to the time you buried your face in Suguru's neck and smelled his hair for the first time. "Thank you," you quickly mutter, and walk away from the counter as fast as you can. Your hands begin to shake as you place the shoes you just bought on, looking at them in the store mirror right as the words 'maybe I should ask Suguru how they look' rolls through your mind.

Your assigned stylist gives you a frightened glance as you growl and take the shoes off, stuffing them back into the box in her hands as you hiss, "I'll take them."

What the hell is happening to me? you wonder as you drive home impatiently, honking at every person who minorly inconveniences you as you speed down the highway. It's not even Friday, but thrice you've thought about asking Suguru to come over and spend time with you. Three times!

You drop your keys onto the counter and sit on your couch, burying your hands in your face as you think, think, think...

Cancel with Ryoma. Cancel with Aizen. Cancel, cancel, cancel...

You shoot off various text messages in a short amount of time, cutting the other five men out of the schedule. You can find others to fit into Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday if you need to. You just need it to be Friday and fast.

"Hello?" the soft voice murmurs when you dial - picked up on the second ring.

"Hey," you whisper nervously. "Um, Monday canceled and I'm feeling a little stressed. Are you free tonight?" Some papers shift around in the background, and you bite your lip as you wait for an answer. It seems like forever until you hear:

"Yeah, let me finish up at the office. I'll be there around seven, alright?"

"Alright." You hang up just as a rush of adrenaline pumps through you, making you shower and dress with vigor. You even put on the new shoes and a nice set of lingerie to match. All for Suguru. You tie a robe over yourself and sit at your computer - it's six-fifteen - to do some work as a distraction. And it proves fruitful because when the doorbell rings, it's seven o'clock.

You straighten your robe and walk to the door, fixing your hair before opening it up and grinning at Suguru, who is still dressed in his slacks and a button-down shirt. The top button is open slightly and his sleeves are bunched up around his elbows, but he offers you his sweet smile as well, stepping into the house with ease.

"You look really nice. Are those new shoes?" he asks, tossing his jacket over the back of the couch and turning back to you.

"Why yes, they are," you sing, walking toward him slowly, leisurely. "Do you like them?"

"Do you care?" Suguru wonders, cupping your chin and kissing your lips gently. "I'm going to take them off of you in a second anyways."

"You have all night to think about that," you tease, tugging him toward your bedroom. "But I'd prefer you let me wear them while you fuck me." Suguru lets out a surprised chuckle, following you into the room and shutting the door behind him.

But even after he's fucked you senseless, you can't sleep. Your earlier thoughts haunt you and a twinge of guilt eats at your brain as you lay against a sleeping Su, head resting on his chest as he holds you close. Even when you see the clock hours change from ten to eleven, to twelve to three am, you can't help but dread the moment when he would awake and leave you alone in the bedroom.

And when six o'clock comes, his watch buzzes on the nightstand, shaking him from his hazy sleep.

Your fingers curl into his side, and Suguru groans, rubbing his eyes.

"You awake?" he whispers into the darkness, but you don't reply, hoping he would just lay there for a few minutes more. "Y/n? Your heart is beating a mile a minute."

"So?"

"So..." He shifts up, petting your hair gently. "I think we need to talk." Your heart plummets into your stomach, and you try not to react sharply, but Suguru clears his throat as he turns on the bedside lamp. You look up into his black eyes, and he blinks in the light, biting his bottom lip at the sight of you fully awake. "Why did you call me over here and not anyone else?" You fumble for an answer, but thinking of a lie just wouldn't do. Not for Suguru. "Aren't you breaking your rule?"

"No," you counter, sitting up straight. "I'm not falling in love with you. Your dick, maybe. But not you." The look in his eyes tells you that he knows you're lying. You hang your head, fighting back an apology.

"We should call this off if that's the case."

"No," you whisper, shaking your head. "I don't want that."

"I don't want that either," Suguru murmurs, tilting your chin up with his fingers. "But what happens if you go back to..." You sigh, looking away. "I'm a jealous lover, y/n. I'm not the kind to play around with."

"And I won't," you reply, head snapping back to meet his eyes. "I..." you exhale shakily. "I couldn't stop thinking about you when I was at Bergdorf's." The admission doesn't shock Suguru, but he does clasp his hands together. "Everything reminded me of you, and I--" You break off, hands shaking. "I'm scared."

"Have you discussed this with anyone else?" The question implies the obvious, and you look to your phone, opening it up and letting him see the contacts "Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Saturday, Sunday" all with the same message:

Sorry, I have to cancel our weekly rendevous. Hope you understand.

"Am I saved as Friday?" Suguru chuckles, but you scroll down a little more, and his name pops up: Suguru Geto.

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head.

"I'm the special one, huh?" You turn his head toward you, leaning in to kiss him on the lips once.

"Please, let me break my rules for you." Suguru groans, leaning into your touch and kissing your palm in response.

"Let me start right now then, babe. And don't worry, we'll take it one rule at a time." You giggle as he tosses your phone aside and leans into you, kissing you just like he did before and switching off the light as daybreak comes.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @missbonekitty @wack0-genius @thankuary @r-i-m-f-009 @sunfloweroranges @leanne-tamashi @rein-icu @brownskinnedgirll @savantsoulfinder @chilledlucifer @kontentious @flare-on @meena-in-a-nutshell @falling-through-pages @naoyasdarling @vabybizzle

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 1) - The Nanny

Summary: The reader interviews for a new live-in nanny position with Jensen and quickly gets the job but she starts to slowly see that her new employer is going to be different than any other she’s had before...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Square: Slow Burn

Word Count: 4,800ish

Warnings: language, mention of death of a spouse/death of a parent

A/N: Please enjoy the first part of this series! This was also written for @supernatural-jackles​ Tell Me A Story Bingo!

________

If someone had said you’d be celebrating your 30th birthday by accepting an interview to be a live in nanny when you were a kid, you would have told them they were nuts. Beyond nuts. Beyond help for that matter.

But there you were. Thirty. Single. Childless. Taking care of other people’s families and not doing much else with your life. You weren’t sure if your mom would have been on you about the no kids thing or the no boyfriend thing more to be honest.

But the pay was normally good and sometimes great and it gave you a taste of family, even if you were just the help to the adults most of the time.

You buzzed the button by the gate at the end of the driveway, a brief moment passing before it opened. It was probably on a timer like most of the people you’d worked for before, an alarm system kicking on at some point in the evening that required a buzz in, the code or a car sensor. You drove down the driveway and parked a little behind a black SUV. The house was a little modern, a little grand, a little overwhelming. A fence and lots of trees surrounded the property. The yard appeared large but you could see houses on either side. Private but suburban. 

The cadillac wasn’t a shocker. Most everyone in these neighborhoods had Escalades. You walked past an open garage on the way up, a muscle car and a more modest smaller SUV parked inside. You went up the very short path and stepped up, ringing the doorbell and fixing your shirt. You were in jeans and a plain gray shirt. It was your normal wear for chasing small children around all day and you weren’t a fan of uniforms.

“Hi,” said a very tired, very handsome man as he opened the door. “You must be from Nanny Core.”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N from Home Pair,” you said with a smile. He shut his eyes and leaned his head against the door. 

“The last girl was from Nanny Core,” he said. He blinked them open and shook his head. “I’m so sorry. Yes, Y/N. You’re the one that’s a consultant, not firmly associated with Home Pair, right?”

“Correct,” you said as he opened the door more and you stepped inside.

“Can I ask what the distinction is?”

“Mostly it has to do with benefits,” you said. “Consultants pay out of pocket for their own or negotiate with their client for those to be covered.”

“Gotcha,” he yawned. You looked ahead and he wiped his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I must seem like an ass.”

“You seem tired is all Mr. Ackles. Not a crime,” you said with a smile. He nodded and he returned it, no fake cheesiness to it. 

“Mind if we do the interview in the kitchen over a cup of coffee?” he asked.

“Wherever you like, sir,” you said. You took off your shoes when you noticed he didn’t wear any inside and he chuckled as you walked back farther into the house.

“Uh, for the record, call me Jensen. None of that sir stuff. They must teach that at nanny school or something huh?” he said, motioning to a table. “I noticed all of you do it.”

“Something like that,” you said. You took a seat and watched him go to a coffee machine, fumbling with it before he spilled some ground coffee on the counter. He shut his eyes and gripped the counter’s edge, taking a deep breath to himself. “How about I make the coffee and you take a seat, hm?”

“I’m okay,” he said as he opened his eyes. 

“Well making you coffee is probably going to come up in my job quite a bit so consider this part of the interview. It’s alright, really,” you said. He glanced over to you and you smiled. 

“Thank you,” he said. You swapped places with him and got him a cup going, taking a mug off the counter and waiting a beat before liquid started pouring out. “I’m gonna ask you the same question I’ve asked all seven other women I’ve talked to today.”

“Yes?”

“Why should I trust you to watch my children?”

“Honestly?” you asked as he nodded. You smiled and carried the cup over to him, Jensen taking a long sip. “You shouldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t. That seems counterproductive.”

“I wouldn’t trust any stranger with my child. Trust is earned, not given. I think the real question is do you believe I’m capable of earning that trust with you and that’s something intrinsically only you know.”

“How so?”

“You meet a lot of different kinds of people with this job. My gut reaction to you is stressed, overwhelmed, sleep-deprived father who doesn’t really want any nanny at all but is forced into this situation. It’s going to be impossible for you to trust any of the seven woman from earlier or me off the bat, Jensen. You should be thinking of who will you come to trust. Who can you count on.”

“This is why my wife should have been the one doing this,” he said, smiling to himself as he drunk down most of the hot liquid.

“We could always re-schedule for when she’s available.”

“Oh, we’d have to wait a very long time for that,” he chuckled. He sat the mug down and glanced down briefly, smiling as he looked up. “She passed away unexpectedly six months ago. Car accident.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you said. He nodded and made a face like he wanted to make a comment. “My mom died kinda unexpectedly. I know it’s...harder.”

“You’re young. How old?”

“Turned thirty today,” you said. He laughed and you heard the life behind it, Jensen shaking his head.

“Well Happy Birthday. I meant with your mother though. If that’s okay with you I mean.”

“It’s fine. I was sixteen,” you said. 

“That...fucking sucks doesn’t it?”

“So does losing your wife,” you said. 

“Yes it does. I’ve grieved. We all have. The kids are small. They’ll be okay.”

“Is dad okay?” you asked.

“Yes. Ready to start moving on with life again,” he said with a soft smile. “You’re kind. Not in a I’m trying to get this job kind of way. Just kind.”

“Well being cruel doesn’t sound like very much fun,” you said.

“You’re not trying to impress me.”

“The first rule of nannying, Jensen. You think you’re interviewing us when in reality we’re interviewing you too.”

“How am I doing so far?”

“Nice coffee choice,” you said with a smile that he nodded at. “You respect people. You’ll employ me but won’t treat me like I’m second class. You’re checking the boxes so far.”

“What if I don’t check all the boxes?”

“You don’t get to know the luxury of knowing the answer yet, Mr. Ackles,” you said. “Interview isn’t over.”

“You got fucked over by somebody, didn’t you.”

“Also perceptive,” you said. “Like I said, I don’t tolerate being treated unkindly anymore. It’s why I left my last position.”

“I have one more question,” he said. “Would you treat my children like they’re your own?”

“Again, asking the wrong question,” you said. He sat back and crossed his arms, smirking at you.

“What exactly should I be asking?”

“Will you treat my children kindly and with respect but take charge when required?”

“What’s the difference?”

“One is me doing my job and the other is me doing yours.”

“How old did you say you were again?”

“Thirty today.”

“Right. Well I think I know where I stand. Do you have anything for me?”

“Can you show me a picture of your kids?” you asked. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “You answered my question.”

“I didn’t show you anything yet.”

“You’d be surprised how many fathers I’ve met don’t carry pictures of their children in their wallets. That one is just a me thing.”

“Your dad do that?” he asked as he tucked it away.

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug. He was polite enough to not go down that route though and this was already getting more personal than you anticipated. “I think I know where I stand as well.”

“I’d like to hire you,” he said.

“Assuming our negotiations go well, I accept,” you said. He held out his hand over the table and you shook it.

“I did come up with what I thought was fair for salary and benefits. Let me go grab the paperwork and hopefully settle on something,” he said. He excused himself and you looked around the house, already trying to familiarize yourself with things. He was more relaxed when he returned with some papers and a notebook, handing you a few sheets. “If I’m missing anything let me know. I-”

“This is my weekly rate?” you asked when you saw the number at the top of the page.

“Oh no. That’s your daily,” he said as he took a seat. “So I think that’s-”

“Jensen,” you said, pushing the paper back. “I have to ask, things like insurance, are those coming out of your pocket or mine?”

“I’ll cover the expenses of your health, dental, all of that. You just choose and I’ll subsize it as part of your paycheck,” he said. 

“This is for a live in position. Um...can you just...explain what makes up that daily rate number?” you asked.

“It’s simply your base pay. Obviously I pay for housing, utilities, gas obviously. I will get you a credit card to make purchases with for the kids and all of that so it’s simple to keep track of. You’re free to any of the food in the kitchen. I’m guessing the salary is the sticking point here.”

“Jensen,” you said as you scratched your head. 

“I can go up fifty more dollars a day.”

“Jensen. This is way, way too much money. Way too much,” you said. “The average rate around here is about twenty five an hour or two hundred a day. Jensen this is double that. Are you factoring in like time and a half for additional nights and weekends?”

“No. That’d be on top of that. I thought that was a fair value based on the fact you are going to be taking care of the most valuable things in my life. It’s gonna get taxed too so it’s not like you see all of it.”

“You’re sweet, Jensen,” you said, writing down a number at the top of the page. “The average in Austin is twenty five an hour. I would be very happy with that.”

“You have to literally be the first person in existence to negotiate their salary down from the offer,” he said.

“Are you rejecting my offer?” you asked. He took the paper and crossed your number out, jotting down his own and spinning it back. “Jensen.”

“Y/N,” he said, crossing his arms. “I came down. Now it’s your turn. Do you accept?”

You knew thirty five was still way overpriced for the job, especially considering everything else he was paying for.

“I will accept on the condition that you get four hours of what we’d call evening or weekend at the normal rate ever week.”

“I can agree to that,” he said with a smile, writing that down. “So medical plan. Single, plus one, family?”

“Single for all that,” you said. 

“I should mention that there is an in-law suite off to the other side of the garage where you’ll be staying. It’s just down the hall but it has its own small living area and kitchenette. There is a separate entrance to it. If you have guests over I just ask you keep them to your area of the house,” he said.

“Absolutely. I don’t tend to bring people over much anyways while I’m on the job,” you said. He let you read over the rest of the benefits, a good amount of sick and vacation time too. Technically you were free evenings and weekends but he could ask you to work longer if he needed you and you were available. Overall everything seemed in order. “Alright. Everything looks good to me.”

“Awesome. Are you available to start Monday?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. “It gives me plenty of time to move in things tomorrow so I can jump into the kids routine first thing Monday.”

“Perfect,” he said. “I’ll show you around. We can start with your side of the house.” You got up and followed him over to near the front door and down a long hallway, past a set of doors. There was a frosted glass one to your left just before he pushed open a wide white one.

Behind it was a living area and kitchen. Not huge, about the size of a small apartment. There was a TV and sectional, a table tucked against the wall and a kitchenette like he’d mentioned with full size appliances. 

“Like I said, I know it’s small. Please like, seriously watch TV out in the family room at night if you want or hang out wherever or the yard or pool. This is just your own space when you want to be away from us.” You hummed and he showed you a closet and then a bedroom and bathroom. It was simple but decorated nicely and looked relaxing. “If there’s something obvious I’m missing please let me know. A cleaning service does come by every two weeks on Tuesdays at around ten in the morning. They’ll do in here too. Otherwise you can keep after yourself. Cleaning stuff is in the laundry room. Oh yeah. Um, this is probably the last time I’ll like, ever come in here unless you need help moving things in since this will be your space.”

“Thanks. I don’t have too much. I do have one request before we sign all the paperwork.”

“What’s that?”

“I’d like to meet the kids if that’s alright. There’s not much point in hiring me if they hate me.”

“Fair point. We’ll get ‘em over here and then get you all squared away.”

Monday Morning

“Good morning,” you said, a cup of coffee in your hand already as Jensen yawned. 

“Morning,” he mumbled. His hair was a mess and he was in only a pair of boxer briefs before he paused and looked down. “I should probably put on some clothes.”

“This is your house. Wear whatever you normally would. Pretend I’m invisible,” you said as you poured a cup of coffee into a mug for him.

“Sounds like you worked for some real assholes,” he said, graciously taking the cup. “As long as it doesn’t bother you, me walking around in my undies.”

“No, not at all,” you said with a smile. “Would you like me to drop the kids off at school and daycare this morning?”

“Sure,” he said. “Car keys are on the table by the garage.”

“Okay great. I’m used to driving that kind of SUV,” you said. You snuck a look at your schedule you’d printed out again, knowing the twins would get need to get picked up around noon. You started to work on their lunches and snacks for the day while he took out the carton of eggs from the fridge. He cracked one into a pan and turned the heat on, yawning again as he got out some bread and threw it on a plate. “Would you like me to make lunch for you as well?”

“No thank you. I’m getting lunch with my manager today. You don’t have to make me coffee in the morning either, Y/N. Your job is to take care of the kids, not me,” he said.

“A cup of coffee is not difficult, Jensen. My job is to help you so if I can make dad’s life a smidge easier it’ll make theirs better too,” you said with a smile.

“You’re not like, a morning person are you,” he chuckled. “I don’t do peppy in the morning.”

“Oh no. I’m always a little nervous when I start a new job. I’ll get a rhythm down soon,” you said.

“So what do you normally do once the kids are dropped off?” he asked as he got out a spatula.

“On a weekday I’ll review their schedule, see if anything different is going on. An average day like today I will clean their rooms, their bathroom, do some laundry while they’re at school, maybe some shopping. I’ll pick up the twins, bring them home for lunch, a little playtime, a nap. We’ll have some quiet time and maybe a craft or coloring before we get JJ from school. Then I’ll give them all a snack, we can get outside and play to get some energy out. I’ll help JJ with any schoolwork she has while the twins play and then I will start on dinner about the time you’ll be getting home. Since you have no plans currently tonight I’ll leave you guys be at that point until tomorrow unless you ask me for help.”

“So when do you take a break?” he asked.

“Naptime. I’ll have lunch with the twins. Don’t worry about me Jensen. That’s my normal plan but if you would like me to run some errands in the morning I can,” you said.

“No, no. Just…” he trailed off. “I still want to make them breakfast and dinner and play with them too is all.”

“We’ll figure out the right mix of things,” you said. “You just gotta tell me is all, okay? It can vary day to day too,”

“Yeah,” he said, taking his fried egg out of the pan and placing it on one piece of bread. He made a sandwich and took a big bite, looking out the back window. “I never asked. How was your birthday?”

“Hm?” you hummed, dropping some carrots into a reusable bag.

“On Saturday you said it was your 30th. You do anything fun that night?” he asked with a soft smile.

“I got a new job. That was the highlight of my day,” you said, Jensen cocking his head. “I ordered pizza, binged netflix. My normal Saturday routine.”

“I know everybody jokes about 30 but it’s really just jokes. Wait until you’re 42,” he chuckled. “Then you really feel old.”

“Most 42 year olds would kill to look like you,” you said. You shut your eyes and shook your head. “I’m so sorry. That was so inappropriate.”

“It’s alright. I took it as a compliment,” he said, smiling again. “So you did nothing for your birthday, huh?”

“Uh, no,” you said, mixing in some grapes into each of the snack bags.

“I’m gonna get you a birthday cake,” he said.

“Mr. Ackles-”

“I thought I said it’s Jensen. I’m the boss so what I say goes. We’re gonna have a birthday cake for you tonight. So. What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Whatever you want is perfectly fine.”

“Y/N.”

“...I like red velvet,” you said. He smiled and chuckled. 

“That was my wife’s favorite,” he said. “Haven’t had that since her birthday. She would have liked you.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You’re quite kind to me. She was always protective of me, even if she was the scaredy cat most of the time.”

“Can I ask how…” you said as he took another bite.

“Accident. Tractor trailer versus her car. He tried to miss her but it was too late. I wanted to hate the guy too but it was an accident and I couldn’t blame him for that.”

“My father died in a car crash when I was six. It does get better with time,” you said.

“That’s why you didn’t know if he had a picture of you in his wallet or not,” he said as you nodded. “You’re too young to have that much tragedy in life.”

“So are you.”

“I’m not young anymore.”

“You’re young and overly generous,” you said with a smile. 

“Misery loves company,” he said as you both heard a few feet above you running around. “Munchkins are up.”

“You want to make breakfast or should I?” you asked.

“Give me five minutes to get them in some clean clothes. Then I can show you how they like their eggs.”

“Sounds like a plan, Jensen.”

Later That Evening

“Y/N?” said Jensen, knocking on the door to your room. You got up from the couch and answered it, Jensen standing there with a smile. “The kids and I were wondering if you’d like your birthday cake for dessert.”

“You actually got me a cake?”

“I did indeed,” he said. You followed him down the hall and back into the living space, Arrow running up to you.

“Y/N! Are you sleeping over?” she asked as she gave you a hug.

“I live just down the hall now, cutie,” you said.

“Daddy, can we have ice cream too?” asked Zeppelin as he climbed up into his chair at the table.

“Sure thing bud. Girls, would you like some too?” he asked. Both the little ones said yes as he looked back at you.

“I really shouldn’t,” you said.

“We eat ice cream in this house,” he said.

“You don’t have to twist my arm over it,” you said. He got out the container and set it down on the table by the cake, lighting the match on the candle on top. “Oh please don’t-”

He started to sing though and the kids joined in, Jensen having a really good voice actually. You blew out the candle when they were through and he dished up some dessert for everyone.

“Y/N, can you read me a bedtime story later?” asked Zeppelin and you glanced at his father, Jensen making a face.

“Well Y/N’s not at work right now so she doesn’t have to unless she wants to,” said Jensen. “We’re already cutting into her-”

“I would love to, Zepp,” you said, his little face lighting up. “Maybe you guys want to join us?”

“JJ’s a little big to get read to at night I’ve been told,” said Jensen.

“Am not,” she said. “I can get a story too, right?”

“Of course,” you said. You took a bite of the cake and hummed. “This is really good.”

“I bought it myself,” said Jensen. 

“Well you have good taste,” you said. “In fact, I’m gonna have another slice.”

“Good,” he said as Zeppelin grabbed the ice cream container. “Alright, alright. You can have a bit more, bud.”

“Night, JJ,” you said, getting a hug from her as you put her back to bed an hour later. JJ smiled from her bed and you flicked off the light, pulling the door shut after you turned on her night light.

“Thanks for giving up your night with them. I didn’t mean to have that happen,” said Jensen as you headed downstairs with him.

“It’s no problem. It’s good bonding for us,” you said. You helped him pick up the plates at the table and wash them off, Jensen grabbing a bottle of whiskey from a tall cabinet as you covered up what was left of the cake. 

“Drink?” he asked.

“A small one,” you said. He poured a single into a whiskey glass and slid it over to you, smirking when you took a sip. “Oh that’s smooth.”

“Very,” he said, drinking from his own glass. “Thank you for tonight. JJ’s been…”

“She’s the oldest. She’s gonna have a harder time with it.”

“You were about her age when your dad died you said?”

“She’ll be okay. She’ll miss her but it won’t be a deep pain. She’ll have nice memories of her mom. She’s doing pretty good, trust me.”

“Can I ask another personal question?”

“I’m off the clock. Shoot,” you said.

“Your mom ever...try again with someone else?”

“Yes. Years later she found a good guy. He actually is who I stayed with after she passed. He’s married now, has some kids of his own but I know if I call him up he’d drop everything for me.”

“Good. I was getting afraid you were a complete Shakespeare tragedy,” he chuckled.

“Nah. I’m not at that level of crazy in my life,” you said. “As long as we’re off the clock, can I ask if you’re asking because you’re thinking of getting back out there?”

“I am. My wife kind of insisted on it. When we first got serious we had this deal that we’d go try again if something happened. I mean, I don’t cry everytime I think about her now. I can smile and be happy and that ache doesn’t try to swallow me up everyday anymore. I think it’s time I could get back out there.”

“I’d say it is. The kids are ready. They’ll understand.”

“You think your mom loved the second guy as much as your dad?”

“For sure. She was a bit of a free spirit but she didn’t think you had to have just one soulmate. She told me that after she’d met Ray. She said she got two so maybe I had two out there. I haven’t found either one of them yet so I’ll take increasing my odds as best I can.”

“Well you’re not gonna meet your soulmate sitting at home on Saturday nights, Y/N.”

“Just a lot of douchey guys,” you said.

“Ah. You need to meet a better kind of guy is all,” he said.

“Yeah see I’m thirty. All the good guys are married by now.”

“Oh all of them are taken. I didn’t realize that,” he said with a chuckle. “What am I then? Another douchebag?”

“You don’t count. You’re…”

“Too old for you?” he chuckled.

“My boss. Plus you’re like famous. You can go get like a victoria secret model or something.”

“Looks ain’t everything.”

“Maybe I ought to try older guys now that you say that,” you said.

“Y/N, you gotta be careful with that. I don’t want to see you get taken advantage of.”

“And this is why I watch netflix on Saturday nights,” you said.

“You serious about the older guy crack?” he asked. 

“I do find them more...attractive sometimes. I guess it depends on how old. Why?”

“I got a friend my age, might be interested?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you said. “No offense to your friend but...I mean if he’s 42...I want kids and stuff you know? Although a dude it doesn’t really matter how old...I don’t know.”

“It was just a thought,” he said with a smile.

“I’ll think about it,” you said. “He’s not a weirdo, right.”

“No. He’s an actor. Something to think about,” he said.

“I will,” you said. “Thank you for the birthday cake, Jensen. You’re a good person.”

“I bought a cake.”

“Yeah but I haven’t really had one of those in years. You’re a good person.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said as you slid off your seat. “You’re free to hang out if you like.”

“I’m kinda tired. I won’t be getting up that early from now on I don’t think.”

“I completely understand,” he said. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Jensen.”

________

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[christ0pher-evans]

Healed Heart

Final Part of the Shattered Heart Mini-Series

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader Warnings: 18+ Minor Smut / Angst / Cheating / Arguing / Mentions of Divorce / Swearing Word Count: 2.9k A/N: So here is the final part of my mini-series. I honestly cannot thank you so much for the support on this, it means a lot to me and I love you guys for it!!! Please let me know what you think. I hope you’re happy with the ending because it took me a really long time to decide how I could finish off this story with justice. Thank you again, truly😘 Please reblog and like🖤

Part One: Shattered Heart Part Two: Troubled Heart Part Three: Bewildered Heart

 ♡

Three tortuous days had passed since you had last seen or spoke to Chris, three days since you kicked him out your home. You’d had nightmares about being in a loveless and hateful marriage, steamy dreams about your recent rendezvous and nights where you just felt so alone that you had cried yourself to sleep. It was safe to say that the past three days had been exhausting. 

Although fucking Chris in the kitchen during a harrowing argument probably wasn’t the smartest thing you’ve done, it led to some realisations about how you wanted to proceed with your marriage. You definitely didn’t regret anything you said, or did with Chris that day and that was what you found important amongst the disaster. Not regretting your decisions meant that you knew you wanted to move forward in your marriage, and not look backwards; something you would consider a big first step in repairing your marriage. You knew you couldn’t forget what happened and would have to address it before moving forward but you knew you had the desire to push through the hard times. 

You’d called Chris that morning and told him that you wanted him to come home, not that he could or should but that you wanted him at home with you. Emotionally, it felt like the right decision, because at the end of the day he was your husband and you missed him. Practically, it is his home as well and it was the only place you could both be to sort out your marriage with privacy. You didn’t want to be surrounded by the media or by prying eyes. Hell, you didn’t even want the opinion of family or friends, this was between you and Chris only. 

As you tidied up the house a bit and thought about the moment Chris would walk through the door, it was clear to you that no matter how angry or hurt you were, Chris was your endgame. You had played all the variables over and over in your head loads of times, societal rights and wrongs about cheating when you realised, fuck society. You would never leave your husband over this, and that was okay. This was your story and who cared what anyone else thought, because you didn’t want to give up. You owe it to yourself, to your marriage, to try and fix everything before throwing it away. 

For the first few days, Chris slept in the spare room and you danced around each other, trying to find your new normal whilst you navigated the mess that was your marriage. 

Once the first week passed, Chris continued to sleep in the spare room and you finally plucked up the courage to address the problem that had been plaguing your marriage for weeks, months if you consider back to when the problem initially started. 

The day you decided to bring it up, you had finished work early and Chris was already at home when you arrived back around 3pm. 

Walking through the house, you finally found Chris in the home office. 

“I thought you were filming today?” Chris looked up at the sound of your voice. 

“Oh hi sweetheart. I didn’t hear you come in? Um, yeah I was but, uh.. she turned up to re-film some scenes so I came home.” 

You winced at the thought of her and Chris together but was quickly calmed by the effort Chris had made to avoid her. 

Clearing your throat, you found the courage to reply. 

“Oh, er, did you not have to keep filming?” Leaning against the door frame, you settled in for a longer conversation. 

“It wasn’t anything that I can’t just do another day when she isn’t there. I’ve got some scripts to read over anyway so it’s fine.” 

You sighed. This seemed like an appropriate time to bring up the unspoken topic so you could start moving forward but your anxiety felt crippling in that very moment, you didn’t know if you could face it. 

“Sweetheart..” Chris whispered, “Y/N, sit down, please..” 

You moved to sit down on the small sofa by the window, tucking your feet up and under yourself. Chris moved to join you, sitting fairly close but not touching you as you hadn’t crossed that boundary since he came home. 

“Look baby, I’ve been home a week now and we’ve just walked around this house like we are two strangers. I need you to talk to me, tell me what you’re thinking because you’re the one that told me you wanted me to come home?”

You looked up from your lap and straight into Chris’s eyes, “You do feel like a stranger to me.”

You heard his voice hitch in his throat, clearly caught off guard by your blunt answer. 

“I’m still me, sweetheart. I’m the same person you met seven years ago and I’m the same person you married four years ago. Please don’t think I’ve changed.” 

A lone tear falls straight from your eye, as you whimper, “I miss him.” 

It takes Chris no longer than a second to pull you into his lap, all boundaries obliterated, as he hugs you like his life depends on it. As you cry all you can hear is Chris repeatedly whispering, ‘I’m here. I’m still me. I love you.’ 

You shudder at the softened and sweet contact, something you hadn’t felt for weeks but you embraced it, leaning further into Chris’s chest for comfort. 

Once you had basked in the feeling for a bit longer, shutting the world and your problems out, you knew you had to move away. It would have been unfair to give Chris mixed signals as your marriage was still clearly on the rocks. 

Sitting back up on the sofa, you composed yourself. 

“I know you are still you Chris, but you’ve changed to me now. This you..”, you sigh before continuing, “..you’re tainted and untrustworthy, you’re the man that cheated on me, you’re not my husband. I need to get to know you again, and I need to learn to love our marriage again, and learn to trust you again. It’s going to take time.” 

“B-but you want to try?”

“Of course I want to try. Endgame right? That hasn’t changed for me but other things have to change, we cannot continue like this otherwise if something else were to happen, I don’t think we would survive it.” 

“I am infinitely yours sweetheart. Forever.” You watch Chris smile sweetly. 

Feeling slightly more confident and feeling like Chris has really been listening to you, you knew it was time to talk about her. 

“Okay, well whilst we are here, I think we should talk about her. It’s the biggest hurdle for me, and I can’t move past it. I just can’t deal with you seeing her right now, not whilst I’m learning to trust you again. I’ll never trust her so I need to 100% be able to trust you again.” 

Grabbing hold of your hand, Chris nods in understanding.

“That is completely fine sweetheart. For now, how about I just work my schedule around when she isn’t there and wait until you are comfortable before I finish filming my scenes with her? I don’t care if it postpones the film, or they replace me, you are more important to me than any film and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you!” 

You nod feebly, shocked and relieved with the instant commitment Chris was happy to make to save your marriage and earn your trust back. 

An awkward silence falls over the room at the monumental conversation you just had. Needing a moment to yourself, you decide to make a quick exit. 

‘Um, I think I’ll go and grab a shower before dinner.” Quickly leaving, you rush to your ensuite. 

The shower provided a solace to digest what just happened, a few tears falling as you feel overwhelmed. But you left the bathroom with a renewed sense of hope. 

It was another week of tough conversations and private marriage counselling before you felt you had reached another milestone in fixing your marriage. 

You were in the ensuite of your bedroom when Chris came in to say goodnight. He was merely wearing a pair of pyjamas bottoms that amusingly you were wearing the matching top of. 

He chuckled as he leant against the wall, “I was looking for that top.” 

You giggled lightly and blushed, using all your self control to not drool over seeing Chris topless. Unfortunately, you had never been good at hiding any of your emotions from Chris and you saw him smirk slightly at your flustered state. 

“Okay, well, I just came to say goodnight, so uh- night I guess..” 

You mumbled a goodnight back as Chris turned to walk out the room. A rush of affection from the interaction washed over you causing you to shout back towards Chris to catch his attention. 

“Um, stay..” 

You saw the startled look on his face as the words left your lips. 

“Stay with me tonight..”, you repeated as if you were confirming your own words. 

“Yeah, course I’ll stay, if that’s what you want?”, he shuffled back towards you. 

“It is what I want.” 

You smiled at him sweetly before you brushed past him and moved towards the bed, leaving him a bit stunned in the bathroom. 

Weeks passed with no problems. You and Chris had gone back to sleeping in the same bed and you often woke up snuggled together. At first, you’d wake and quickly move away from him however, slowly, you became comfortable with it and you were finally starting to feel at peace in his arms. 

You had woken up early this specific Monday morning as it was Chris’s first day back filming with her. You felt sick to the stomach at the thought of him seeing her again and had slept terribly. You knew this day would come and thought you would be, at least slightly prepared, but as the day dawned, you were scared. Nerves caged around your heart as your mind could only replay the moment Chris told you that he had kissed another woman.

Chris had to go back to work, you understood that. He had already put it off for a while and sacrificed enough of his job to try and reconcile your marriage. You almost felt obliged to let him go back to work, who were you to hold your husband back from his job? 

You were sitting in the kitchen, slowly nursing a very strong coffee when Chris came down, ready for his day. You glanced up at him briefly, barely acknowledging his words to you. 

“Y/N? Sweetheart, are you okay? You’re up really early?” 

Glancing at the clock reading 7:30am, you shrugged and mumbled, “Woke up at 5:30am.”

You stared in the abyss, thoughts whirring through your mind. Thinking about being frightened to death about the thought that your marriage wasn’t even halfway back to where it should be. Knowing that Chris would see her today, spend all his time with her whilst you were waiting back at home for him. It felt like some sick and twisted de ja vu. 

It had been almost two months since you’d last been with Chris in any form of intimacy, almost four months since you were truly a happily married couple and now he was going to see her again, were you really debating that history would repeat itself? 

“Baby, will you talk to me? I can see something is on your mind”, Chris gently rests his hand over yours, bringing you out your nightmarish daydream. 

Looking up at Chris, taking in all his handsome features, you thought, how could anyone ever resist him. The thought panicked you even more.  

Learning from previous mistakes, you knew it was best to communicate to him how you were feeling. 

“I’m scared you’re going to see her again today and history could just repeat itself. Nothing is fixed yet Chris, and it feels like we are already going backwards.”

Just when you thought that being honest and communicating with Chris was the best option, it backfired in your face. Chris scoffed, a look of disgust on his face. 

“Huh, you’re not kidding?” Watching him run his hand through his hair, he turns away and slams his coffee mug down on the side. You jump at the aggressive action. 

“You really think I’d do that again? You really think that little of me? Have you not seen all the work I’ve put into this fucking marriage the past couple of months?”, he shrugs and turns back to you, “What else do you want from me Y/N?” 

You wince at his spiteful words. 

“I know you’ve put a lot into this marriage Chris, so have I! We’ve been doing really well, but can you really blame me for having doubts on your first day back with her? I thought you’d understand!” 

“No, I don’t blame you, but I thought you’d trust me more that this by now.” 

You chew on your lip nervously as you both stare at one another, terrified of the silence. 

“I’ve got to go to work Y/N, see you later.” You hear Chris huff before he walks straight out the house, leaving you sitting dumbfounded and anxious at your kitchen table. 

Trying to do any work from home was useless as you just felt panicked and couldn’t stop thinking about how Chris’s day was going. You hadn’t heard from him since this morning at it was now 6pm. 

After developing a painful stress headache, you decide to lay down in bed. Believing you can block the world out and briefly pretend that nothing is wrong in your marriage, you shut your eyes momentarily. 

FLASHBACK. 

Waking up so softly, you barely blink your eyes open as you feel tender kisses dancing their way up your back, following the line of your spine. You flutter your eyes open carefully, aware of the vibrant sunlight gracing your face as you try to focus your eyes, gradually making out the floor length curtains gently blowing through the breeze from your open balcony doors. You can hear the soft crashes of the waves and can see the soft, baby blue sky from your place on the bed as you stretch out all your limbs from an energetic night. You let yourself surrender to the feeling of Chris’s lips grazing against your bare body.

As he gradually makes his way up to your neck and cheek, you hum in utter happiness and contentment as he places one final kiss on your cheek as he leans over your body. You can feel every line and shape of his naked form as it presses up against you. You think about how you’ve never felt so happy and loved in this moment, knowing that this is exactly how you’ll get to feel for the rest of your life. 

“Good morning Mrs. Evans”, Chris roughly whispers, his voice hoarse from minimal sleep. He nibbles on your ear teasingly before grinding his core over your ass. You whimper at the feeling his movements evoke from you. 

“Mhm, I like how that sounds”, you mumble before smiling happily. The use of that name giving you butterflies. The one that now belongs to you, the name that now proves you belong to each other forever.

END OF FLASHBACK.

You wake with a start as you hear the front door slam slightly. You sit up too quickly, as you feel light-headed and your vision blurs slightly. You breath deeply, gaining your bearings before looking at the bedside clock. 7:30pm; you had slept right through dinner. 

Not that it mattered because you would have been eating alone anyway, you thought. 

Your body adjusts to being awake, your stomach fluttering slightly at the memories and feelings that the dream provoked. Momentarily caught in a fever dream. 

Back in reality, you brain registers that there was a slam at the door. Quickly, you get up and rush downstairs to see what is happening. 

As you halt at the bottom of the stairs and look out into the open plan room, you see Chris standing by the breakfast bar. The very same breakfast bar that holds so many recent heartbreaking conversations. But this time, it doesn’t bring you sadness. 

There Chris stands, holding takeout food in one hand and in the other, your favourite donuts. Behind him, on the wall, hangs the framed photo from your wedding day. Your matching smiles beaming on both your faces, almost as if they are lighting up the room.

You look back at him, standing here in your house. Bringing home dinner to you. Coming home to you. 

Your breath catches in your throat, “It’s you Chris, it’s always going to be you.”

You watch him place down the food on the side, before he begins striding towards you. Stuck in your spot, you can’t do anything but smile at your husband as he reaches you. 

“Forever yours”, you whisper before Chris’s lips crash onto yours for the first time in months. Your lips work together as your hands grip as his waist and his grasp your neck and face so you can’t move away. So you can only feel Chris, so you can truly remember the raw intimacy and passion between you. 

As your lips melt together, it feels as monumental as the moment he kissed you as you became his wife. It feels as if your story is beginning again; with a fresh start and a new-found hope for your marriage. 

 ♡

Forever Tags: @itsscottiesstark @patzammit @partypoison00 @cynic-spirit @n3ssm0nique @sohoseb @madbaddic7ed @moonlacebeam @ilovetheeagles  @beautifulrose0809 @lovelyladymayyy @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mysticapples17 @whxre4cevans @firoozehmoon @spookyparadisesheep @mytbel0st @thatonelatina @snowy992 [Please drop me a message if you’d like to become part of the taglist for this series or any of my work]

[rogue-durin-16]

UNSURPRISING

Summary: There were a few moments during Fred's friendship with Y/n's in which they were a bit too close to kissing. Then, there was that one time they did.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Genre: fluff

Tags:

Fred Weasley: @whiskeyn-rain @lumos-solemn @meph1stophelian

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality

Warnings: language maybe, murder

A/N: this one was not scheduled for tonight but I wanted to cheer @meph1stophelian up because she deserves it, so enjoy your dose of Fred fluff <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Okay, Y/n," Ginny grabbed a pastry from the platter which we had stolen from the kitchen and that now laid on a small coffee table in the middle of the Room of Requirement. "truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"I dare you to... Wait." She thought about it for a second before leaning on Luna to ask her something. "I dare you to kiss Fred."

"Uh-uh." Fred, who had just moved to the higher table where the drinks had been laid, was quick to respond, "Not happening." shortly after followed by me.

"I'm not doing that."

"You can't skip a dare!" Ron exclaimed outraged.

"I can if I'm over eight years old." I replied, leaning back on the couch with my arms crossed.

"What she said." Fred agreed, raising his glass at me before drinking.

"Since when do you two back out of a dare?" Ginny questioned with a frown.

"Since this girl here" he motioned at me "started dating Pucey."

"What?" Harry asked in shock. "Pucey? Pucey as in Adrian Pucey?"

"Yeah?" I replied.

"You and Pucey?" Hermione raised her brows and gave Ginny a confused look. "I don't quite see it."

"Oi, what's there to see? I'm the only one who has to see it, don't you think?" I responded, slightly annoyed. "And why is no one talking about this bloke's love life?" I pointed at Fred who now stood behind me. "He's dating that Hufflepuff girl too!"

He tsked his tongue. "Not anymore."

"That's... unsurprising." George commented.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Fred questioned suspicious, kicking my leg for me to move aside so he could sit.

His twin snorted. "You know what's supposed to mean." He took a sip from his drink before nodding at Ginny. "C'mon Gin, change the dare— for Pucey's sake." George scanned us both with analyzing eyes before adding, "we don't want Y/n to end up ditching his boyfriend for this twit, now do we?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"YEEEEH" I was already down on the arena, clapping, when Fred landed with a wide cocky grin on his face, his breathing ragged due to the match's intense last few minutes.

I had rushed down the moment the snitch was caught to be the first one to congratulate him, so I was quite breathless too.

"Did you see me up there? Saving the bloody match!" He exclaimed, tossing his broom and bat on the ground in order to catch me when I threw myself to him.

"You were brilliant oh my gosh!" I let out a surprised laugh. The match seemed pretty much lost until Fred's performance came into play. "Oi, don't let it go to your head!" I was quick to add, pulling away from his embrace.

"Y/n Y/l/n just said I'm brilliant," He stated, the grin not leaving his face. "it's definitely going to my head."

I groaned, letting my forehead fall against his chest. His heart was beating fast, but I blamed it on the adrenaline of the match.

But what was I supposed to blame on the way my own heartbeat picked up when his hand found the small of my back and casually pulled me a tad closer?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oi," I slid open the door's compartment and scanned it briefly before saying, "everything's full, do you mind—"

"Not at all." Fred rapidly answered, sitting up slightly but quickly returning to his laid back position after I had taken a seat by his side.

I had a brief exchange of words with George and Lee before silence fell upon us; it was quite unsual, yet understandable due to the exhaustion we had been put under during the last semester.

It was because of it that Lee fell asleep, shortly after followed by George. I took the chance to grab my book to avoid giving in to the sleep, though my reading was soon disturbed by Fred's foot tapping over the upholstery of the seat.

"What?" I questioned quietly, my brow quirked at him while my eyes peeked over the book.

"What are you reading?"

"Advanced Potion-Making— what do you want?"

"Rude." I rolled my eyes, making a smirk dance on his lips. He seemed to weigh what he was about to say. "I got you something for Christmas."

"Wait— you what?" He got up, ignoring my shock, and, stretching his hands to reach his bag, he pulled out a small package. "I— you—"

"Speechless, I see." He pointed out amused, handing me the package before plopping back down, his gaze trained on me. "C'mon, open it." His teeth trapped his lower lip in anticipation, and I felt how my blood started to pump violently through my veins before I unwrapped the present. "A little birdy told me you liked... What's it called? Chokers?" I could only nod, speechless at the delicate choker in my lap. "I mean, my hand would have been just as good but you can wear this one in public too."

My face flared up at his words and astonishment was replaced by the usual need to fuck that little bastard up. "I hate you."

"I'm kidding, love." He chuckled, tugging on his sleeves and nodding at the jewelry. "You like it?"

The softness in his gaze made my anger go away as I took another look at the choker. "I love it, but you didn't have to." I scrunched my nose. "it looks very—"

"If you say expensive I'll shove it up your arse so watch your tongue." He warned me, half jokingly and half serious.

"What a way of ruining a sweet gesture." I pointed out, feigning a pout.

"Don't worry, I'll make it sweet again, you'll see—" he pushed himself away from the wall and scooted closer to me, tending his palm. "Give it to me." I obeyed and shifted my position so I would have my back to him. His fingers moved my hair away before his hands carefully placed the strap of velvet around my throat and clasped it. "There." He whispered, putting my hair back in place.

I turned around again without any clue of what to tell him. "I-I'd have gotten you something—"

"Y/n, it's a gift, not a trade." He gave me a warm smile, one that anyone rarely got to see, and my face heated up once more. His eyes seemed to flicker to my lips just for an instant, but he soon averted them from me to check on our peers. "Don't tell them, I won't hear the end of it."

I too peeked at them before leaning in and placing a soft kiss on Fred's cheek. "Merry Christmas, Fred."

The little smile grew into a wide side grin while he casted his face down, fixing it on his hands. "Merry Christmas, Y/n."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was out after curfew, yes, but I wasn't doing anything bad, just visiting my friends in their common room; I only had to be careful and no one would notice me.

Or so I thought.

To my luck, while I was tiptoeing through one of the halls, none other than Fred Weasley bumped into me.

"Shit!" We both took a moment to observe one another. "Alright, sorry in advance." He apologised, taking a peek at the path he had taken before grabbing my hand and pulling me with him.

I didn't hesitate on running with me; I knew he had brought trouble directly to me, and if I didn't follow, I would get detention and, with Umbridge in control, I had to avoid that at all costs.

"Wait wait— Here!" He tapped what I assumed was a camouflaged door and pulled me inside before it could open completely.

We both reached for the door at the same time, shutting it as fast and quiet as possible and stepping back right in time to hear what I assumed was a part of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad.

Fred was so close that I could feel his heavy breath tickling my neck while we stumbled back into the pitch black darkness of the narrow passage.

"Well, that was close." I commented, trying to keep my pants at bay; it was the only sound heard —our pants.

His hands left my biceps to presumably fall limply on his sides, but he didn't step back to put some space between us. I couldn't see anything, but I still turned around and instantly knew his eyes were trying to find mines, just like my fingertips attempted to intertwin with his.

It was a bad idea, but no one had to know; the lack of light in the secret passage would prevent anyone to witness it, even us.

No one would see it, I thought, trailing my fingers up his arm until I reached his cheek.

His own hand made its way to my waist, giving it a squeeze and pulling me to him.

I pushed him away as soon as we heard Filch's cat miaowing at the hidden door, followed by the erratic running of the caretaker.

Fred grunted in frustration. "C'mon!" He rushed me, taking my hand once more and running down the ginnel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

We were running breathless, hands held, casting spells left and right.

'Don't stop moving' Arthur had said when the part of the castle we were defending fell into the Dementors' claws.

One of the Carrow apparated a few feet ahead of us, sending a Cruciatus in our direction even before we came to a halt in our running.

Fred raised his wand, quick as lightning, shielding us from the curse, and I didn't miss a beat before hexing the death eater, hitting her right in the chest.

Fred spun around to guard my back from another death eater that stood behind us while I, seeing that the Carrow sister attempted to get up, casted another stunning spell at her, only that this time it hit her shield.

Both Fred and I duelled the two Voldemort's acolytes until we managed to take them out almost simultaneously, yet in very different ways.

"STUPEFY!" Fred yelled out loud to enhance the spell's effect.

I did the same, knowing I needed that extra push to take Carrow out only that my spell was way more harmful. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Fred turned around, still gripping my hand, to see the death eater's corpse on the floor. "Fuck!" He exclaimed.

"Was that a good 'fuck' or a bad 'fuck'?" I inquired, adrenaline pumping through my veins when I turned to meet the redhead's eyes, sparkling with excitement.

"Definitely a good 'fuck'." We both let out a laugh as if I hadn't just murdered someone. "Kiss me." He demanded; fortunately, I was thinking that same thing, so my lips crashed against his in a rough kiss right after he had finished the sentence.

We both tried to pour into the kiss as much sentiment as possible to let the other know how much we had craved to do that for the last three years. Our hands and arms were wrapped around each other, pulling our bodies as close as possible in the now empty corridor as if the world was about to end; it most likely was.

"Being realistic," I began speaking against his lips, once he had pulled away only enough for us to breathe. "we might be dead by tomorrow," if the situation was a bit different, we would probably be crying, but our little victory had made euphoria flood our hearts. "so know that—"

"I love you too." He finished with a nod.

I nodded back, pecking his lips before untangling by limbs from his and pulling him with me in order to resume our jog away.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 22 - Red Right Hand [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, blood, nightmares.

Word Count: 4000

Summary: Anyone can be a suspect.

When you woke up, the first thing you realized before even opening your eyes was that you weren’t in your bed.

Your bed was softer than this, the sheets were silk and the pillows were fluffier-

Spencer.

You were sleeping in Spencer’s bed, and in all honesty, both he and you were terrible at this break up thing.

You rubbed your eyes and sat up in bed, trying pull yourself together and get rid of the haze of the sleep. Judging by the state of the bed, it was very obvious that Spencer hadn’t slept there and the clattering of plates coming from the kitchen let you know that he was already awake. You yawned, stretching out and kicked off the covers before you quickly made the bed and stepped back to see if it looked good.

Well, it looked acceptable at least.

You shrugged to yourself and stepped out of the room to approach where the noises were coming from, then leaned sideways on the door frame, a smile warming your face when Spencer turned his head to look at you.

“Morning.”

“Hi there,” you said, your voice still raspy because of sleep, “What are you making?”

“Um- I realized I just had coffee and not much of anything else,” Spencer said, “Unless you like leftover Chinese.”

“My favorite breakfast.”

“So grilled cheese sandwich?”

“Oh man, you don’t want to share your leftover Chinese?” you curled your lips, “I guess grilled cheese sandwich could be breakfast too.”

He chuckled and put the sandwiches on the plates, so you grabbed them and went to the living room to sit on the couch, Spencer following you with two cups of coffee.

“Jesus Spencer, you didn’t have to sleep here,” you motioned at the blanket, “You’re taller than the couch.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

You shifted your weight and picked at the toast before nibbling on the piece,

“How did you sleep?” he asked and you chewed on your bite.

“Like a rock,” you said, “I got like four hours, do you know what that is? A miracle.”

He thought for a moment before he walked to the table to pull open a drawer as you grabbed your cigarette package,

“Do you mind if I smoke here?”

“I do actually.”

You looked down at the package in your hand, then put it back into your purse as he walked back to the couch, clearing his throat.

“So I was thinking,” he said, “The um-the next time it gets too much for you, even though I’m on a case away from the city, if you ever need to get away from your place…” he reached out and put what looked to be a spare key to his apartment on the coffee table and you stared at it for a couple of seconds, your heart skipping a beat.

“Professor,” you managed to say when you pulled yourself together and tried to ignore the spark of hope, “I say this with the best intentions, but we really do suck at this whole break up thing.”

“We’re not so bad-“

“We’re literally the worst ex couple I’ve ever seen. You take your key back from your exes, not give them one.”

“But it’s not like that,” he said quickly, “It’s so that you can drop by when I’m not here if you want to.”

You were melting, and he wasn’t even aware of it.

“Spencer…” you tried to stop the smile warming your face and pursed your lips, “I can’t.”

He pulled his brows together, his soft gaze on you almost confused, “Why not?”

You heaved a sigh and reached out to wrap your fingers over the back of his hand, the spark of electricity shooting through your whole system. Your body didn’t care about the break up as much as your mind did, that was clear. Even now, even after everything, even if you knew it was wrong, the only thing you absolutely craved for was to be closer to him, however you could be.

“Trust me,” you said, “The only thing it’ll do is to give me hope, and I can’t have that. Besides, who knows? Yet another friend of Luke’s might disagree with this decision if you ever end up not talking about your ex during the first date.”

He let out a small chuckle, “That’s not happening, you know it as much as I do.”

You scrunched up your nose, “My point about being terrible exes,” you started, but before you could say anything else, your phone started vibrating. You looked around and grabbed it, then took it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Finally!” Mina’s voice reached you, “Why can’t anyone reach you? Mom called you like a hundred times.”

“I was busy.”

“Doing what? Your assistant said you didn’t show up yet.”

“What happened?” you asked back and she heaved a sigh.

“Mom wanted me to ask if you want them to send you a car for tonight.”

“Why would I-“ you started and then it dawned on you and you threw your head back, “Charity auction.”

“The one that we told you like a month ago, and your assistant already put it in your schedule. You know, the whole point of having that is checking it sometimes right?”

“I wanted to erase it from my mind, probably that’s why,” you grumbled.

“Well you’re coming. I’ll actually kill you if you bail on me, we’re all going to be there.”

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, whenever we go somewhere like this, mom socializes, you and Kenz hook up in the bathroom, I’m the only one who doesn’t have fun in these things! I’m allowed to-“

“I’m literally running to a meeting on stilettos so I don’t have time to feel sorry for you but I’ll put it in my schedule if you want,” she said, “Unlike you, I check mine. No car then?”

“I’ll drive there myself.”

“Suit yourself. Cry beforehand if you’re going to be in this mood for the whole night, will you? You don’t look good with smudged makeup.”

“Fuck you Mina.”

“Love you too brat!” she sang and hung up, and you huffed out a breath.

“Charity auction?” Spencer asked, “Rossi was talking about that too.”

Your head shot up, “Wait, you will be there?” you asked, the grumpiness leaving you instantly and he shrugged his shoulders.

“A part of the team will. We don’t know yet.”

“I hope they pick you to be there.”

He tilted his head, “Why?”

You bit inside your cheek, still trying to fight the urge to be closer to him before you took a deep breath.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “Maybe I wouldn’t hate tonight that much if you were there.”

                                                 ***

Having breakfast with Spencer was a perfect way to start the day, that was for sure, but you couldn’t say the same for the rest of the day. Much like Mina, you spent the whole day running from meeting to meeting, and by the time you got home to get ready for the night, you were already way too tired.

But as you found out, a good night’s sleep made wonders, so even if you were tired, you weren’t as drowsy as before.

Special thanks to Spencer, for that one.

You did your make up and your hair before getting into the gown and you looked in the mirror, smoothing over the fabric. You turned around to see whether the long skirt looked good at all the angles but then your phone started vibrating on the bed and you grabbed it to answer it.

“Hi Linc,” you put him on speaker as you opened the drawer to pick a necklace, “What’s up?”

“Just wanted to check whether you’re going to pretend you’re sick to get out of it,” he said and you chuckled.

“Good idea, I’ll use it the next time,” you clasped the necklace behind your neck and fixed your hair, “And no. Unfortunately I’ll be there.”

“Come on Y/N, we’ll have fun.”

“I don’t think so.”

“We’ll have alcohol, you like alcohol.”

“That’s the only way I can stand these things,” you murmured, “How about you? Are you sure you haven’t changed your mind about coming?”

“Are you kidding? Watching you sulk is like a hobby of mine at this point, I made my peace with it.”

“I don’t sulk!”

“Yeah you do,” he chuckled, “I’ll see you there okay?”

“Yeah yeah, see you,” you murmured and hung up, then grabbed your coat and left your apartment. You got into your car, turned the music on, and started driving.

It took you almost an hour to get there because of the traffic. You handed your keys to the valet, thanked him and started climbing the marble stairs but as soon as you looked down at your phone you felt someone crashing into you.

“Ugh!” the woman let out a furious breath but still kept talking on the phone, “I said I don’t want them blue, I want them green! What are you, an idiot? I don’t have time for this…”

“Apology not accepted asshole,” you murmured to yourself and kept climbing the stairs.

“Good evening ma’am.”

“Good evening,” you smiled at the man by the door and stepped inside to walk through the huge foyer until you reached the hall. You looked around as soon as you reached the table surrounded by empty chairs and stopped one of the waitresses.

“Excuse me,” you smiled at her, “Hi, is this the table number one?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Thank you,” you said and heaved a sigh as she walked away, “How am I the first one here God damn it?”

You checked the time on your phone before making your way out of the hall and went outside again so that you could smoke a cigarette or two until everyone got there. There was no way you would sit there alone, you already didn’t like this evening and that would make it even worse. You leaned back to one of the pillars, lighting a cigarette and exhaling the smoke up into the dark sky, watching the people entering and leaving the building.

You heaved a sigh after minutes passed and you lit your third cigarette, sending Mina yet another text in all caps but then you heard someone clear their throat so you looked up from your phone and your heart started pacing in your chest, a wide smile pulling at your lips before you could stop it.

“Professor,” you managed to say and Spencer ran a hand through his hair as if he wanted to make sure it looked good, “Well this is a nice surprise. Came to save the damsel in distress?”

He pulled his brows together, “I doubt you fall under that category.”

You scrunched up your nose, “You have a point. I’m probably the big bad wolf in a dress.”

“I mean it’s a pretty dress,” he murmured before stealing a look at you, “You look great. As usual.”

You could feel the happiness filling your system and you giggled.

“Thanks,” you said, “So do you. But hey, that’s not a surprise. The only reason why the FBI is keeping you around is your looks, not your smarts, we all know that.”

That seemed to make him chuckle and you gasped, then reached out to hold his scarf over your dress.

“Spencer look, we match!”

“Look at that, we do-“ he smiled but before he could say anything, you saw Lincoln climbing the stairs. You waved at him and he took a look at you two with a slight frown on his face, then made his way to you.

“Jesus, took you long enough.”

“I know, I had this last minute phone call about work….” he shook his head, “Dr. Reid. You seem to be everywhere nowadays.”

“Seems that way,” Spencer stated curtly and Lincoln turned to you.

“Why are you outside?”

“Because no one at our table showed up yet,” you said, “And you know I hate sitting alone.”

“Ah well, I’m here now so if you want-“

“I think I’ll smoke some more, thanks though,” you told him and a small smile curled Spencer’s lips before he raised his brows, looking at Lincoln who checked his watch.

“It’ll start soon though, just so you know,” he said, “See you inside.”

With that, he walked away from you into the building and Spencer turned to you.

“That was subtle.”

“He’ll be fine,” you said and threw your hands up when you caught the sight of Mina getting closer, “Did you like die or something? Where’s Kenz?”

“On her way, there was something with the babysitter, my meeting took forever!” she said, “I drove here straight from work, is mom going to kill me?”

“No one is here yet.”

“Probably because of the accident.”

You frowned, “What accident?”

“I think there’s some kind of an accident, the traffic is insane,” she eyed Spencer up and down, “Oh great, cute sad giraffe is here too.”

“Mina!” you hissed and Spencer shot you a look as if he was desperately asking for your help, but Mina waved a hand.

“I’ll be inside,” she said and walked inside while you shifted your weight.

“…Cute sad giraffe?” Spencer asked and you rubbed the back of your neck.

“Please ignore her,” you said, “I apologize on her behalf.”

Spencer stared at you, then scoffed a laugh, “Does she hate me or…?”

“She doesn’t hate you as a person, she just hates all my boyfriends as a princip- ex. Ex boyfriends.” You quickly corrected yourself, “She hates my ex boyfriends as a principle.”

“Why?”

“It’s a sister thing. I threatened one of her ex-girlfriends once, so this is what I get.”

“You threatened-“ Spencer started but you waved at Nolan who was climbing the stairs and he frowned at you and Spencer, then approached you.

“Well hello there,” he greeted you two before turning to Spencer, “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Nolan, this is Spencer Reid,” you introduced them, “Spencer, Nolan. He’s the love of my mom’s life for some reason.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Nolan said and clicked his tongue “You’re the infamous Dr. Reid then. I’ve heard about you.”

“Nolan,” you murmured warningly but he ignored you.

“Has Y/N mentioned the head of FBI is a good friend of mine?”

“Um- no she hasn’t—”

“Well I’d keep that in mind just in case you happen to make yet another mist—“

“Thank you Nolan!” you said very loudly, “Mina is inside, you could join her if you want- also, have you seen my mother?”

“I came here straight from my house but I sent her a car, she was on her way,” Nolan said as someone by the door called out his name and he heaved a sigh, “Business doesn’t wait, excuse me.”

“Did he just…?” Spencer asked as Nolan got inside and you shook your head fervently.

“No he didn’t.”

“That sounded like a threat.”

“Ignore him as well,” you said, “It’s just uh… You know. Rich people. They have no manners.”

He tilted his head, confused, and you waved at Kenzie who climbed the stairs at full speed and waved at you back, then pressed a hand over her chest at the sight of Spencer and winked at you before rushing inside as well.

“Anyway,” you tried to change the topic, “So I owe you breakfast then. Do you want it before or after my next emotional breakdown?”

He smiled softly, “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Oh you have no idea how much I do,” you murmured, “Do you want to get Honey Cinnamon French toast the next time? It’s full of sugar, you’d like that. Considering your coffee choices.”

His jaw dropped, “It’s not that bad!”

“I took one sip of your coffee one day while we were dating and thought I’d get into sugar coma.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Don’t you have statistics about how it’s bad for you?”

He nodded at the cigarette between your fingers, “Do you want to hear the statistics for that too?”

“You’re on thin ice, professor,” you pointed at him, making him laugh but then both of you turned your heads when you heard your name being called. Your mother looked between you, then smiled and stepped closer.

“Dr. Reid, it’s lovely to see you again,” she said politely, “Y/N honey, why are you outside?”

“Waiting for you,” you stubbed the cigarette, “I was the first to get here.”

“I know, the driver kept going into different roads because-“

“Accident. Yeah, Mina told me.”

“Let’s go inside, it’s about to start,” she said and you looked up at him.

“So I should-“

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I should probably find Luke. It was nice to see you again, Ms Knight.”

“You too Spencer,” she said and linked her arm through yours as you walked inside, “Anything I should know about?”

“We’re just talking, mom.”

She arched a brow, “I don’t know who you got this obliviousness from, but not me,” she said and you turned to look at her.

“Hm?”

“You’d have to be blind not to see the way he looks at you.”

You blinked a couple of times, “The way he looks at me?” you repeated as you approached the table and you took your seat beside Lincoln.

“Had your smoke?” he shot you a look and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Don’t.”

“No really, are you guys sure you broke up? Like, did anyone let him know?”

Kenzie whispered something into Mina’s ear and she smiled, sipping her champagne.

“I’m a better person than you are, so it’s no wonder I have a better friendship with my exes than you do, Linc.”

“Is that what we call batting your eyelashes at your ex nowadays?” he asked and you made a face at him.

“You’re hilarious- should I buy something?” you wondered out loud, “Where’s the catalogue?”

Nolan handed you the tablet and you swiped on the screen.

“Are you buying something?”

“One or two,” Nolan said, “Your mother liked that vase on the page sixteen.”

“I will bid you for that,” your mother joked, making him smile and press a kiss on her cheek, and you downed your champagne before motioning for another.

“How’s your girlfriend?” you murmured to Lincoln and he shrugged his shoulders.

“She’s fine,” he whispered as the auctioneer started talking about the first item, “We had a small argument earlier, but…”

“About what? Did she finally see your real personality?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not taking relationship advice from a girl who’s obviously not over her ex even though she was the one who dumped him-“

“Hey, I’m trying to offer you my infinite wisdom you dickhead,” you whispered, making him chuckle.

“I’ve been working a lot these days, but I have to close this new deal,” he said, “She doesn’t seem to understand that.”

“Why don’t you pay her a visit?”

“Did you miss the part where I said I was working a lot?”

“Lincoln,” you heaved a sigh, “Honestly. If you love this girl, you need to show her that.”

“After I close this deal-“

“No, before you close your deal,” you insisted, “You don’t want to be one of those people who picked wealth over love.”

Lincoln raised his brows, “I guess we know what your pick is.”

“I take all my advice back, I hope your girlfriend dumps you,” you sipped the champagne, making him laugh.

“Come on, I’m just messing with you,” he said, “Do you want me to buy you an extra ugly vase so that you can forgive me?”

“I can buy my extra ugly vases myself, thank you,” you sulked, “Do you know what my problem is?”

“Hm?”

“I’m surrounded by love,” you nodded at Kenzie and Mina who seemed to be in their own worlds and your mother and Nolan who held hands over the table, listening to the auctioneer, “It’s like being surrounded by booze when you’re trying to go sober.”

“Hey if it makes you feel any better, my relationship is in shambles too.”

“It will stop being in shambles the moment you stop being a stubborn ass,” you murmured, still holding the fragile glass in your hand but as soon as you took another sip, your mother raised her brows, looking at someone over your shoulder, Mina narrowed her eyes and you felt someone’s presence behind you. The lovely scent filling your nostrils said it was Spencer, and your suspicion was proven when you heard a low whisper in your ear.

“Come with me.”

The champagne you were drinking went down the wrong tube and you started coughing before you stared up at him, convinced that you had just imagined that, considering it wasn’t the first time you were hearing that only in a different context.

“I’m sorry?” you managed to stammer and he frowned at your reaction, then nodded at the door.

“Outside?” he said and it dawned on you,

“Right, outside,” you murmured as you tried to pull yourself together and pushed your chair back.

“Y/N?” Mina said warningly but you shook your head.

“It’s fine, I’ll be right back,” you said as you stood up and felt Spencer’s hand on your lower back as he guided you out of the hall, his skin on yours sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. As soon as you stepped out of the hall he turned to you, his eyes searching yours frantically.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a low voice and you pulled your brows together, trying to understand what he was talking about.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be okay?” you asked “I’m having the time of my life trying to pick between an ugly vase and an ugly painting. Seen anything you like yet? It’s for charity.”

“No, Y/N-“ he nibbled on his lip and you stared at him for a moment before your breath got caught in your throat and your hand shot up to hold his arm.

“Another murder?” you whispered, “God, did someone die? That’s why you’re being like this?”

“We just found her a block away.”

“Do I- do I know who it is?” you asked numbly and he pulled out his cellphone to show you the picture and you gasped, covering your mouth as soon as you saw the screen.

It was that woman who had bumped into you just at the beginning of the night, the one who had walked away without apologizing.

“I just…” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “I think I saw her tonight. But it- she- she was just alive, I don’t-“

“The marks show that it just happened. Very recently.”

You could feel the room spinning around you but you tried to pull yourself together.

“But I don’t-“

“Y/N,” he said your name, clearly this time, “I was talking to you probably around the time it was happening, but you mentioned you were the first one to get here right?”

You nodded slowly, “Yeah, the traffic. Well, that and the meetings and the babysitter- how is that relevant?”

Spencer fell into silence, taking a deep breath and you looked up at him.

“What?” you asked again and he stole a look at the hall.

“Obviously there’s no evidence to show this yet and I might be wrong, but do you want to know what I think?” he asked and you nodded again.

“Yes?”

“I think you were sitting with the copycat killer just now.”

You blinked dumbly, your brows furrowed in thought and slowly, very slowly that ice in your veins made its way through your system, a tingling spreading from the base of your neck up to your head. You could feel the panic crashing down on you before you turned your head to look at the your table, Mina and Kenzie watching you, Lincoln playing with his phone and your mother and Nolan having a quiet conversation. Spencer’s words echoed in your head, drowning out every single noise coming from the hall.

I think you were sitting with the copycat killer just now.

“Oh,” you breathed out, closing your eyes, “Fuck.”

Chapter 23