#they didn’t look right in the Dream picture so I’ll just put them here… <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[bleue-flora]

i didn't remenber cdream had a parrot. Now o need to rewatch. Cdream has a curse or something bc why alll his pets die or are killed

Yea… for real. And most of them have really tragic and strange deaths. :’( It’s no wonder he has such attachment issues, only furthered by the death of his horse then later endangerment of his friends and blackmail…

Here’s the link to the parrot stream

Time stamp for finding the parrot: 2:23:21

Time stamp for the death of the parrot: 3:18:02

Here’s the link to the memorial (which I actually mentioned in my recent Dreamcatcher blooper)

Though to truly understand how tragic it is you should watch the whole section of the stream where he has his parrot, because he really goes through so much trouble to bring the parrot (and Spirit) back home with him.

“I loved him like a son he was a like father to me.” — Dream —

[disneyprincemuke]

midnights, 4 * mv1

you’re woken up in the middle of the night in cold sweat and max’s name at the tip of your tongue

pairings: max verstappen x reader

warnings: sad again :(

notes: i’m almost at 2k followers!!! i’ll be doing a sleepover event soon, so do look out for that!!!

(prev) // (next)

it feels so real, the way his hands are cupping your cheeks with his thumbs rubbing circles against the skin. “my darling.”

“max.” you come out in a whisper, your hands clutching onto his wrist. “don’t go.”

“i wouldn’t ever dare.”

wouldn’t ever dare.

that’s the words that woke you in a jolt, met by the darkness and stillness of your own bedroom. you stay in your position for a little bit, the weight on your chest making is slightly harder to breathe.

the effort to steady yourself is constant, but slow. there’s a tingling sensation where you think he last touched you, on your cheeks and by your neck. your lips are numb that you have to graze your fingers over it to make sure you’re really awake.

you exhale shakily, finally turning over to your side. you sigh and snuggle your face into the blanket. the picture frame of max kissing your cheek stands tall. it was his championship race from the 2022 season, right before he left the garage to start the race.

you couldn’t bear the thought of putting this one down. it had been a special moment with him, the thought of winning back to back championships seemed so silly in the beginning.

max doesn’t haunt your dreams often, even when you’d been pining for him. watching the championship sprint race wasn’t the best idea. you’d fallen asleep on the couch before it started and woke up with max’s face zoomed in on the screen.

it took everything in you not to send him a message, congratulating him on a win that was undisputedly his. every fibre of self control not to give him a call and ask him how everything has been.

you were curious yourself how the sprint had gone — you watched clips of him after the race looking drained. it almost brought you to his contact to call him, drowning him with questions laced with concern.

you wanted to be the one to press the cold towel to his forehead and essentially wipe him dry of his sweat.

you felt like a stranger to his life, and it’s killing you. you don’t know if he’s celebrating the championship with some other girl on his arm, sharing a tradition that only you two were aware of.

you can’t help but wonder if his champagne flavoured lips has been tasted by another woman and it makes your stomach churn at the thought of someone else having that luxury. a luxury that you seem to have dismissed too easily during your relationship.

but you realise it’s not really your problem, now that he’s just another ex-boyfriend; you’re just another ex-girlfriend.

your phone lights up on the nightstand, illuminating the picture frame. a small smile stretches your lips when you catch a glimpse of his lips smushed into your cheeks. not knowing what max is up to almost drives you crazy when you let it get to your head.

you now know nothing of the person you knew everything about.

it’s a bigger change than anyone cares to elaborate after a breakup. it’s a lot harder to deal with, but it’s something nobody ever talks about.

they tell you about the crippling pain of losing the love of your life and how empty the bed will feel without them. but nobody ever tells you how directionless and painful it will be when you feel yourself start to become a mere memory to them.

you slide your phone off your nightstand, reading the notifications that flooded your phone. you hadn’t expected anyone to be texting you so late, but you remember that half of the people you know are in another timezone.

danny ❧ not here for championship weekend? :( ❧ oh nevermind :/

the texts were 3 hours apart. you’re guessing that somewhere between those two messages, max had confessed about what happened.

alexandra ❧ did u text him?? ❧ it’s ok if u did…

but you still didn’t feel like talking to anybody. you drop the phone behind you and close your eyes.

a shaky breath passes your lips, max’s face flashing for a second — the face he makes when he’s across the room at a function and he spots you in the crowd unexpectedly. it’s very gentle and you can almost see the love oozing out of him when you’d caught it.

you open your eyes. you turn to your other side, now facing the empty half of your bed. you stretch your arm out and try to imagine the feeling of max next to you.

you try to remember what it felt like to be cuddled into his chest with his strong arm wrapped around your back. but it’s been so long since you’d been in such an intimate position with him, even before the relationship had come to its end.

sleep never came that night, the image of your love creeping up every single time you kept your eyes closed for too long. the sun had risen before you fell into a slumber, but max never left your mind even then.

taglist: @merchelsea @leclercdream @labelledejourr @laneyspaulding19 @lpab

[lewmagoo]

million dollar man | rhett abbott

description: in which a mysterious, silver-haired cowboy rescues a young waitress who’s down on her luck

listen to the spotify playlist here!

warnings: 18+ ONLY, age gap (rhett is in his mid 40s, reader is in their 20s), mentions of sex work, workplace harassment, financial troubles, a little ageism, smoking, unprotected p in v sex, daddy kink, dom/sub dynamic, degradation, overstimulation, squirting, begging, choking, creampie, i think that's it?

pairing: rhett abbott x f!reader

notes: this is one of my longest stories to date. it started out as a simple smut scene and then it turned into an entire backstory. rhett has gray hair in this because i said so. i'm also dedicating this to my fellow old man fucker in arms, @rhettabbotts <3

It was late July. The air was hot and sticky, but the crystal water of the swimming pool was cool on your exposed skin as you sank down into its depths. 

You couldn’t help but let out a long, blissed-out sigh, your eyes drifting shut at the feeling of the ripples washing over you. You couldn’t remember a time in your entire life when you’d felt this relaxed and at ease. Not a care in the world, floating through the water as if you were suspended in a dream. 

And you were, really. A dream that had been made a reality by the man sitting just a few feet away from you, cigarette smoke swirling around him like a halo as the sunlight illuminated his figure, making him appear like an angel. And as far as you were concerned, he was just that: an angel. One who had saved your very life. 

Rhett Abbott was a very powerful man. You couldn’t fully wrap your mind around just how powerful he was. It was something he never discussed with you, insisting that he didn’t want his demons tainting you. 

While he had always been nothing but loving and kind to you, you had witnessed the ruthless side of him a few times, namely when he’d rescued you from your old life. 

Rhett had come rolling into town in his Silverado, just passing through, and he met you at the hole-in-the-wall diner you waitressed at. You’d never forget seeing him for the first time. Tall and broad, tan Stetson balanced atop his head. A pair of worn Levi’s with a white T-shirt on top. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. 

He took his hat off as he took a seat at the counter, revealing a head of graying hair that sent your heart quickening in your chest. Then he smiled at you. You shyly offered him a menu, but he shook his head. “I’ll jus’ have a black coffee, ‘n two eggs, over easy. Toast, bacon, whatever you put on your usual breakfast plates. Please and thank ya.”

His voice caught your attention. Deep and low in his throat, lilted with an accent you couldn’t quite place. But it was clear he was from out west, that much you could tell. 

“Of course! Anything else?” You asked as you scribbled his order down on your pad. 

He considered it for a moment and then he said, “Some jam for the toast, if it ain’t a bother.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his politeness, despite his rough exterior. His shining blue eyes were gentle as they regarded you, and you found yourself distracted by them. You’d never seen eyes so blue. They looked like the ocean. You’d never been, but you’d seen pictures of water that was so blue it was breathtaking. His eyes were even prettier than that. 

“C-comin’ right up,” you finally responded, realizing you were allowing your mind to wander. 

You turned and put your order in with the cook before you quickly moved to pour a cup of coffee. Everything was going just fine until you turned and miss-stepped, sending yourself careening forward. To your utter horror, the mug of coffee slipped from your hands and hit the counter, splashing all over the man, effectively staining his white shirt. 

You gasped sharply, steadying yourself before your hand shot up to cover your mouth. “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! Are you alright?! Did it burn you?!” You were shifting into a panic, scrambling to grab a handful of bar towels you kept behind the counter. You rushed around, intending to help the man clean up the mess. 

You were so wrapped up in your panic that you didn’t realize that he wasn’t angry with you at all. You were simply so used to customers, and your manager, being rude to you that you just expected a hostile reaction. 

But just as you approached him, he slowly stood, and suddenly, a pair of steady hands were resting over top of your own. You looked up in surprise, only to find those crystal blues gazing steadily down at you. 

“Hey now, don’t fret none, it was just an accident,” he assured you, and the deep velvet of his voice calmed you instantly, bringing you back to yourself, renewing your focus. 

You stared at him in confusion. “I just spilled hot coffee on you, and you aren’t angry?”

He shook his head, gently taking the bar towels from you to dab at the stain himself. “Ain’t no use gettin’ angry over somethin’ you didn’t do on purpose. I got plenty more of these white shirts where this one came from. And I’ve had worse injuries than a measly little burn from some hot coffee. I’m fine. Promise.” 

You let out a sigh of relief, your tense shoulders falling relaxed. “Oh, thank goodness. I really am sorry, though. I’m so clumsy.”

He moved to wipe up the mess from the counter, completely unbothered by it. But he was bothered, however, by the implications of your response. “You have people get angry at you often?” He asked. 

You paused, considering your answer. “Well…some of the men that come in here aren’t very nice. Cranky truckers and whatnot. If you make a mistake they tend to get pissed and take it out on you. And my…” you glanced around to make sure no one was listening, “boss, he’s not the nicest guy out there. He says I’m too clumsy for my own good.”

Something flashed in those blue eyes. You swore they darkened a shade. “Huh. Well, they’re all fuckin’ assholes. You’re just doin’ your job.”

You were floored by his behavior. You’d expected him to insult you for your mistake, to call you some degrading name, like you’d been called so many times before. But instead, he’d offered you kindness and understanding. 

“Thank you,” you earnestly replied. 

He shrugged, taking a seat again on the stool he’d previously been perched upon. “‘s basic human decency to be nice to your fuckin’ waitress. ‘specially when she might have half a mind to spit in your food if you treat her like shit,” he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. 

You couldn’t help but smile at that, finally turning to gather up the coffee-stained towels and rounding the counter again. As you tossed the towels in a bucket nearby so you could wash them later, the cowboy leaned forward, still eyeing you. 

“I’m Rhett, by the way,” he informed you. 

You shyly gave him your name in return. “It’s nice to meet you,” you said. 

“Likewise,” he echoed. His exterior seemed so rough. There was a tattoo of a steer skull inked into the skin of his left forearm. His face was fixed with hard lines, and although he still appeared youthful, you could tell he was older. Mid to late forties, if you had to guess. His eyes held untold stories, things he’d experienced that had turned him into the rough man he was today. But his exterior was misleading, because behind it, he was warm and kind. 

You didn’t know it then, but this was the start of something bigger than you ever could have imagined. This man, with his ocean-blue eyes and velvet voice, would soon become your knight in shining armor. 

Until then, the spell between you was quickly broken when you heard “Order up!” which caused you to jump in surprise. 

You giggled softly at your own jitteriness, and quickly turned to retrieve Rhett’s food from the serving window, thanking Anton, the cook, as you did so. “Here you go! Need anything else?”

“Just a coffee refill,” he replied with a knowing smile. 

“Oh! Of course! Sorry, I got so distracted!” You exclaimed in embarrassment as you hurried to pour him another cup of coffee, this time making sure not to spill it on him. 

“Thank y’ kindly,” Rhett said. 

“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything else!” 

You busied yourself with sorting clean coffee mugs back into their respective stacks, all while Rhett tucked into his food. You found yourself wanting to speak to him further, to ask him questions about himself, but you were afraid of being a bother, and you were afraid you were misreading his kindness as an invitation to talk to him. 

He’s just being nice, you thought. He doesn’t actually want to talk to me. 

Besides, your boss, Martin, was just in the back. If he saw you bothering a customer he’d flip his lid and use it as an excuse to yell at you. It didn’t take much to piss him off, and for whatever reason, he seemed to particularly have it out for you. The least he was involved, the better. 

Some might question why you kept this job if you were being mistreated by your boss. The fact of the matter was, you had no choice. You were desperately trying to keep up with your living expenses and rent to avoid being evicted from your home. You were severely behind on your utility bills, to the point where the city was going to start shutting things off if you didn’t pay up. 

You were living paycheck to paycheck, barely staying afloat. This waitressing job was the only one you could get in this tiny town, and you didn’t have the time or resources to go hunting for a better-paying job. This was your lot in life, and you were trying to make due. However, you weren’t sure how much longer you could go on. 

You tried your best to keep your head down and do your job, but with the way your boss behaved, and the way this town seemed to have it out for you, it was difficult. You seemed to have garnered a reputation, and you weren’t quite sure how it had started. You heard the way people talked about you when they thought you weren’t listening. Whispers of what you got up to after the sun went down. Accepting money from men in return for sexual acts. 

The truth was, you were not involved in sex work. The only thing you could think might have started the rumor was the fact that Luke Jones, the sheriff’s one and only deputy, had propositioned you for sex once, and when you turned him down, he went off the rails and berated you in front of the whole diner. He must have decided to spread rumors about you behind your back, which had done great harm to your image, and changed the way people treated you. If the cops said you were bad news, everyone believed them, 

You hated this tiny, conservative Christian town, but you were trapped with no escape. 

Rhett Abbott was the first person who’d been genuinely kind to you in a long time. There was no judgment in his eyes as he looked upon you. Not even after you’d embarrassed yourself and spilled his coffee. It made your heart warm in your chest, and you decided that maybe this work shift wasn’t so bad after all. 

Then he was asking you for a coffee refill and you were trying to hide your smile as you turned to grab the well-used coffee pot.

“Thanks,” he said with a nod and a crooked smile. It made your knees weak. 

But the spell between you was soon broken by the sound of your name being gruffly spoken. You jumped, nearly spilling the coffee you were still holding. Rhett watched you, his eyes narrowing as you scrambled to put the carafe back in its place and rush to the back. 

There was a man back there, and just by the time of his voice, Rhett could tell he was no good. He put two and two together and realized the man was your boss, who you’d already mentioned having a short fuse. 

Rhett was a lot of things. He’d committed acts he wasn’t proud of. He had many enemies. There were those who would pay money to see him dead. But one thing he was not, was an abuser. He didn’t mistreat people just for the hell of it. And just from interacting with you, and seeing the way you reacted when you spilled his coffee, he could tell you had suffered a lifetime of mistreatment. 

And that was when he found himself considering something he never thought he’d do. Maybe he was crazy. Maybe he’d been bashed in the head one too many times. Either way, he wondered if you would let him take you away from all of it. 

He wasn’t sure why he was so enamored by you. He’d only just met you, and if he offered to take you away right then and there, he was sure you would say no. So he didn’t say anything. But he decided that he was going to remain in this godforsaken town a few more nights, just to see how things played out. 

He hadn’t done much good in his life, but if he could rescue you from your unfortunate circumstances, maybe it would make up for all the years of sin and wickedness. Maybe he could do right by you. Give you the life you deserved, protect you from harm, give you freedom. 

Until then, he wouldn’t jump the gun. He would wait patiently, and swoop in when you needed him to. Although, now seemed like a pretty good time to do that. He could hear your boss shouting, and it sent heat boiling beneath his skin. 

But he resisted the urge to go back there and tear the man apart. He didn’t want to scare you, and such a reaction would be overkill, especially when he’d only known you all of forty-five minutes. 

A few minutes later, you came back to the front, very obviously trying to make it look like you hadn’t been crying. At that point, Rhett had finished his food, and when you saw it, you quietly spoke to him. 

“All ready to finish and pay?” You asked, avoiding eye contact. 

Rhett leaned forward over the counter, lowering his voice. “Shouldn't let ‘im treat you that way.”

You paused, a fresh wave of tears welling in your eyes. You managed to lift your gaze to his, your bottom lip quivering. “I have no choice. It’s either work this job, or end up on the street.”

I could take you away from all this. Those were the words on the top of his tongue. But he refrained. Now wasn’t the time. “Yeah, well, he’s a goddamned prick. Y’ deserve better.”

You stared at him for a moment, your heart aching in your chest. His kindness and understanding were unfathomable to you. Why on earth was he being so nice? And that’s when your brain threw a negative thought at you that made everything come to a screeching halt. What if he was only being kind because he wanted something? He didn’t seem like a creep, and he hadn’t made you feel uncomfortable in the slightest. But what if he was just good at hiding it?

“Why are you being so nice to me?” The words came out before you could stop yourself. 

Rhett leaned back in his seat, grabbing his Stetson before he rose to stand. “Because you look like you could use some kindness. And I don’t believe in mistreatin’ service workers just for the hell of it.”

He dug out his wallet and tossed a $100 bill onto the counter, which more than covered his measly $10 meal charge. Your eyes went wide, and you looked up at him just as he placed his hat on his head. “Keep the change. Buy yourself somethin’ nice.”

Then he was gone, leaving you flabbergasted in the middle of the diner. “Ninety fuckin’ dollars,” you whispered to yourself in amazement, referring to your tip. You snatched the bill off the counter and quickly rang it up, placing the money beneath the cash tray to be put in the safe later, and taking out $90 in cash for yourself. He told you to keep it, so that was what you were going to do. 

You thought that night would be the last time you ever saw Rhett Abbott. Thought that he appeared like one of those guardian angels you’d heard people talk about, just to give you a little help along the way, before disappearing into thin air.

But the very next night, he walked through the door of the diner again, and your heart began to race in your chest. He was real. Flesh and blood, standing right in front of you. 

He looked just as good as he had the previous night. Except this time, he’d ditched his coffee-stained white shirt in favor of a blue button down, tucked into his jeans with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to show off his strong forearms, that steer tattoo still on display. 

He took his hat off and sat at the bar, and he gave you that crooked smile of his. It made your knees weak, and you set down the stack of plates you were carrying just so you didn’t drop them. 

The diner had a few customers that night, so you couldn’t focus all of your attention solely on him. Nor could you talk freely, for fear of other patrons overhearing. 

But he was still as charming as ever. “Hey,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, “miss me?”

Actually, yes. “I thought you were just passing through,” you said. 

He shrugged, resting his elbows on the counter. “Changed my mind.” He held eye contact with you, and it made your heart race. 

You shook off your dazed expression and whipped out your order pad. “What’ll you have?”

“How’s your French toast?” He asked. So he was a big fan of breakfast for dinner, it seemed. 

You shrugged. “It’s pretty good. I’d recommend the pancakes though, Anton makes the batter from scratch and they’re fluffier than a cloud.”

Rhett’s smile grew wider. “Alright then, I’ll have a stack of ‘em. With a couple of scrambled eggs this time. And black coffee.”

You couldn’t help but smile in return. “Sure thing. And I’ll try not to spill the coffee on you this time.”

That smile turned into a grin. “Thanks, ‘preciate it.”

That was, unfortunately, as far as your interaction went. You handed him his coffee and then got whisked away to serve food to other customers. A family of five walked in, and seeing as how you were the only waitress on the current shift, you had to take care of them. 

Rhett noticed this, and his brow furrowed. It was hardly fair that you had to do all of this by yourself. Where were the other waitresses?

When you made your way back to the counter to grab his order and hand it to him, he stopped you with a question. “You’re doin’ all this by yourself? Where’s your help?”

You grimaced. “There’s usually only two of us working at night but the other girl has been sick in the hospital so she’s called off a few nights in a row. My boss won’t hire anyone else either so it’s all on me.”

“The more you tell me bout that son’bitch, the more I don’t like him,” Rhett grumbled. 

You shrugged. “Just somethin’ I gotta deal with. You need anything else?”

He wanted to continue the conversation, but he didn’t want to keep you from your work and get you in trouble, so he simply requested some pancake syrup and let you get back to your duties. 

That night, as he left the diner, he gave you another large tip, and you cried over it, not understanding why he would do such a thing. In this place, you were lucky to even get a dollar or two as a tip. 

After those first two nights, Rhett quickly became a regular. Each night he’d walk through the doors, take a seat at the counter, and order breakfast for dinner. And each night, you’d talk to him, and find yourself growing more and more enamored with him with each passing hour. He continued to leave large tips, and it made you think that he had to be rich. No one could afford to throw money around like that. 

But it didn’t feel appropriate to ask him about his money, so you kept your questions to yourself. You fell into a routine of expecting his presence every night, and appreciating those generous tips.

The entire time, however, Rhett was watching you, and he noticed a few things. Of course, there was the way your boss treated you. But he also noticed how some of the customers treated you. They were impatient and short with you, and it only served to make you more frazzled, resulting in a few mistakes on your part. 

You would always apologize profusely and come back to the counter holding back tears. It sent the heat of anger blossoming through Rhett’s chest. He couldn’t stand to watch this much longer. And thankfully, he didn’t, because his opportunity to give you a better life came one night when the diner was particularly busy. 

A group of younger men, one of which wore a deputy’s uniform, were picking on you. They would make comments each time you tended to their table, and Rhett caught wind of every word. Their behavior filled him with such rage that he took his hand off of his coffee cup, for fear that he would crush it in his own grasp, just from his anger. 

He was tempted to step in, but he waited. The next time you walked up to the counter, he caught you. “I can take care of them assholes for ya,” he offered. 

“What?” You asked, unsure of what ‘take care of’ meant in this context. 

“Teach ‘em how to be respectful. ‘Cause they sure as hell ain’t respectin’ you right now. ‘Specially that fuckin’ cop.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay. They’re just playing around. Don’t pay attention to them,” you brushed it off. But he could tell it was bothering you. 

The final straw happened when you walked back over to their table, and one of them stuck out his leg and purposely tripped you. You let out a yelp of surprise and went down. Thankfully, you were only carrying a pitcher of water, but the water went everywhere, including all over your white top. 

Quick as a flash, Rhett Abbott stood up. “Enough!” His voice boomed through the diner, and everyone went dead silent, including the boys who’d been picking on you. 

The cowboy approached the table, kneeling to reach for your hands. He locked eyes with you and calmly asked, “You okay?”

When you nodded, he pulled you to your feet, and without hesitation, he shrugged out of his denim jacket and put it around your shoulders so no one would be able to see through your wet shirt.

“Go outside,” he said to you. 

“But-”

His piercing eyes caught your gaze. “Go. Trust me.”

And you did. Maybe you were foolish for it, listening to this man you’d only known for the better part of a week. But when Rhett told you to trust him, you somehow knew you could. You hugged his jacket to your body and you walked out of the building and into the cool night. 

Back inside, Rhett was seething. He stared at the group of men, and without a word, he reached across the table and grabbed the napkin canister, yanking the top off and dumping the stack of napkins into the lap of the deputy. “Clean up the mess,” Rhett gruffed. 

The boys snickered. “Not my fault this place has clumsy waitresses,” Luke, the deputy, said. 

Rhett growled, and suddenly, he had Luke by the collar. “Clean up the fuckin’ mess!” He barked. Then he slammed the man back down into his seat.

“Hey!” Luke exclaimed, jumping back out of his seat as Rhett marched back to the counter to grab his hat. “You realize you just assaulted an officer of the law?!”

Rhett remained silent as he fished out his wallet and pulled out a single $10 bill, slamming it down on the counter. Then he turned, his eyes dark and stormy. 

“I don’t give a shit. Next time, I’ll do a lot worse.” Then he put his hat on his head and sauntered outside. 

He found you leaning against the outside wall, and when you saw him, you wiped at your cheeks, trying to hide the tears. He sighed softly, boots crunching against gravel as he neared you. 

“Thanks for that,” you whispered. 

“Mm,” he hummed in response. You were both quiet for a few moments before he spoke again. “Listen, maybe I’m bein’ too forward, maybe I’m fuckin’ crazy, but what if I said I could take you away from all this?”

You looked at him, your brow furrowed in confusion. He was as serious as could be. “What?”

“I could. I know I don’t look like much, but I got some money. Got a place out west. Lots of land, horses, cattle. Nice house with a swimmin’ pool in the back. But the thing is…it’s real empty. It ain’t fit for a lonely old cowboy. But it could be a home, with you in it.”

Your eyes widened. There was no way this was real. There had to be a catch. Maybe you were dreaming. Yeah, that was it. This was a dream and you’d wake up any minute, curled up on your broken-down old mattress in your tiny, ill-repaired house. 

“I’ll let you sleep on it, if ya need. But I’m tellin’ you right now, you deserve better than this town. It’s like fuckin’ quicksand, it’ll suck you in and you’ll never get out. Believe me, I know.”

“Why?” You asked. “Why would you do this for me?”

Rhett shrugged. “Because I can see you need help, and I have the means to give it to ya.”

You stood there, speechless, your eyes wide and watery. “This isn’t real,” you whispered. “You’re just a dream and I’m gonna wake up soon and you’ll be gone.”

“Ain’t no dream, sugar. I’m real and I’m offerin’ you a fresh start. Don’t need to give me an answer right now, you can think about it, but-”

To hell with it. “Yes,” you cut him off. 

His brows raised. He hadn’t expected you to say yes so quickly. Before he could speak again, you continued. 

“Why the hell not? I’ve got nothing going for me here. I’m gonna die in this Podunk town if I don’t get out right now. So yes, I’ll go with you.”

Rhett tilted his head, caging his bottom lip between his teeth. “Alright then. We can leave tomorrow if y’ want. My place is in Wyoming, it’s gon’ be a long drive.”

You wondered what he was doing so far away from his home state. And in the back of your mind, you knew this was potentially the most foolish decision you’d ever made. What if he was a serial killer who was going to dump your body in some ravine somewhere? But as you looked into the kindness of his deep blue eyes, you knew that those fears were all in vain. This man was not here to harm you. He was here to rescue you. 

So you took a headfirst leap of faith and let him. 

That very same night, you walked back into that diner, tossed your apron onto your boss’s desk, and told him, “I fuckin’ quit.”

You ignored his overdramatic pleading, tuning him out when he shouted after you. You left it all behind and came back outside where Rhett was waiting, smoking a cigarette. When he saw you, he stamped out the cigarette and pushed off of his truck, which he’d been leaning on. 

“Well?” He asked. 

“I quit. Maybe I’m stupid for doing this, but I trust you, and I’ll go wherever you wanna take me.”

And that’s how it all started. 

He took you back home that night, insisting upon it after you told him you’d been walking to work to avoid the cost of gas and car maintenance. 

His truck smelled like him. The faint scent of cherry tobacco, and a cologne that smelled like vetiver and cedar. It was strangely comforting and you found yourself at ease wrapped up in his scent. 

When he pulled up outside your shabby little house with its unkempt lawn, you felt a little embarrassed about your living situation. But if he judged you for it, he made no indication. 

“Pack what’s most important to ya. I can have a moving company come and pack up the rest and ship it to my place.”

You hesitated before you climbed out of the truck, reality finally hitting you in the face. “Rhett…you should know I’m sort of…in trouble. I owe money. I’ve got overdue bills, and people I borrowed money from. If I skip town I’ll be in big trouble.”

Rhett gazed at you, and the yellowish light cast from a nearby street lamp made his eyes look dark, almost brown. “Don’t worry about all that.”

“But-”

“I said I’d take ya away from all this. I mean it. You come with me, and you won’t have to worry about anythin’ ever again. I can promise you that.”

“I can’t ask you to take care of my problems for me.”

“You aren’t askin’ me to. I want to.”

You stared at him in disbelief. There was no way this was real. But your heart was telling you to trust him. If he said he would take care of things, then he would. 

“Okay,” you relented. 

“Alright then. I’ll see ya tomorrow mornin’, around 7 if that’s okay with you.”

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s okay. I’ll see you then.”

Then you slipped out of his truck and slammed the door shut behind you. He waited in your driveway to see to it that you got safely into the house before he finally pulled away.

Once you were inside, you pushed the front door shut and leaned back against it, reeling from what had taken place in the last few hours. Had you really just agreed to run off with this man? Were you crazy? Had you gone completely bonkers? Maybe, but strangely enough, you also had a sense of peace. Somehow you knew this was the right decision. 

So you set about packing a duffel bag with your necessities, and by the time morning came, you were waiting out on your front step for Rhett to arrive. 

He pulled up at 7 o’clock on the dot, and he climbed out of the truck to greet you. “Mornin’.” His kind smile sent a fuzzy warmth rushing through you, as if you’d just sipped a glass of bubbly champagne. 

“Morning,” came your response. He graciously took your bag from you and placed it into the bed of his truck. Then he opened the passenger door for you, and you climbed into the confines of the vehicle. 

“Y’ hungry?” He asked after he’d settled into his side. 

As if on cue, your stomach rumbled, and you gave him a sheepish look. “I haven’t eaten yet.”

“I’ll fix that.” He pulled out of your driveway and headed into town, there he stopped at Royal Donut, the local donut shop. He took you inside and let you choose whatever donuts you wanted. You walked out of that shop with a dozen assorted favorites, cups of coffee, and some other bakery items. 

It was more than you could ever eat, but Rhett spared no expense. And as he drove, you happily ate your fill of donuts, a treat that you never bought yourself. He seemed pleased that you were enjoying the sweet treats. 

And thus began your trip to Wyoming with a mysterious, silver-haired cowboy. 

The further away you got from that shitty town, the more at ease you felt. You relaxed into the leather seat of Rhett’s Silverado, and you let yourself forget about your problems for just a little while. 

You found Rhett incredibly easy to talk to. He had this way about him that made you want to talk to him. You wanted to know more about this man who’d walked into your life and whisked you away. This was the kind of thing that only happened in movies and storybooks. It didn’t happen to small-town girls who led flat, broke-down lives. 

And yet, there he was, driving with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting atop the gearshift, looking like a dream with his hair haphazardly brushed back with his fingers, wearing a simple black t-shirt and jeans, with an ornate belt fastened around his waist. 

There was a pair of black cowboy boots on his feet. You never thought you’d find such a thing attractive, but you did. He was every bit a cowboy as you could have imagined. Open pack of Marlboros in the cup holder. Pistol in the glove compartment. Dreamcatcher hanging from the rearview mirror. 

He told you the dreamcatcher was given to him by an old friend named Joy Hawk. “She passed a few years ago. Every time I look at it I think of her.”

You admired the colorful beads, watching as the feathers fluttered from the air conditioning. Someday, you would find that same dreamcatcher beside your bed, because Rhett noticed you admiring it so much that he decided you should have it. But until then, it would remain dangling upon his rearview. 

During that lengthy road trip, you talked about anything and everything. You revealed some details about your life and explained why you had a negative reputation, of sorts, within your town. 

“You mean that fuckin’ asshole that tripped you spread rumors that you were tradin’ sex for money?” He clarified, his hand tightening on the steering wheel. 

“I-I think so. That’s the only reason I can think the rumor even got started. His pride was hurt when i said I wouldn’t sleep with him.”

Rhett ran his tongue over his teeth, breathing in deeply. “I shoulda beat his ass like I wanted to. Fucker deserves it.”

You shook your head. “What you did last night was more than enough. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to get arrested on account of you defending me. I’d feel so bad,” you said. 

“I wouldn’t’ve gotten arrested. And even if I did, they’d let me go after I made a phone call.”

You looked at him curiously. “Why? You famous or something?”

“Not really. Won a couple bull ridin’ circuits. Own a cattle ranch. I just have good connections. And a good lawyer.”

Something about his answer made you think he was being modest. With the way he threw money around so freely, and the way he was dressed, you knew he was more wealthy and powerful than he was letting on. But you chose not to question it further. If he wanted you to know more, he’d tell you. 

Instead of talking about his status, he changed the subject. He talked about his family, and how rocky his relationship was with them. 

“It all fell apart when I was in my early 30s. Found out my wife was cheatin’ on me with my brother.”

Your jaw dropped at his revelation. “Oh my gosh. With your own brother?! That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged. “I got over it. But it took me a while. I spiraled pretty hard after it. Did some shit I ain’t proud of, all because I was angry. But that was a long time ago. I’m in a better place now.”

“You never remarried?”

“Nah. Just never found anyone I wanted to settle down with. Maria, my ex-wife, tried to rekindle things but I never could look her in the eye again after what she did. So I just put all my focus into buildin’ a life for myself. Rode in a few rodeos. Built a house. Been runnin’ a cattle business for the last decade. Haven’t had time for anyone special.”

“Except for me,” you quietly murmured. 

He smirked, nodding in agreement. “Except for you, little darlin’.” Then he paused. “‘s alright if I call ya that?”

“Yeah. I like the sound of it.”

From that moment on, you became Rhett Abbott’s little darlin’, and everything changed. You wondered what made you special. What made him decide, fifteen years after his marriage went down the drain, to open his arms to someone else? 

You’d never understand, but you didn’t have to. Rhett had pulled you from the miry pit you’d been sinking into, and you would be forever grateful to him for it. You didn’t know it yet, but he would soon lavish you with everything you could ever want or need. He would provide for you beyond your wildest dreams, and you would wake up every day and thank your lucky stars that he had walked into that shitty hole-in-the-wall diner and swept you off your feet. 

Now you were on your way out west to his big ranch to start a new life. You had no idea how he was going to work out all the details. There were still so many loose ends you had to tie up in your personal life. To anyone else, this decision probably seemed like the most foolish decision you could’ve possibly made. But to you, it felt like fate, so you decided to take it as such. 

Instead of worrying about those things, you allowed yourself to be in the moment, getting to know Rhett during all those hours in the truck together. He got you whatever you wanted to eat along the way. Fries, milkshakes, your favorite treats. You felt a little bad that he was spending money on you, but at the same time, it felt nice to be spoiled, so you allowed yourself to bask in it. 

The trip took twelve hours in total, and toward the end, you fell asleep with your head resting against the window. A few hours later, you woke with a start when you felt the truck pulling to a stop. 

“Shh, you’re alright,” Rhett’s low cadence filled your ears. “Just pullin’ into the drive.”

Suddenly, you were very much awake as you realized what you were looking at. You’d finally arrived, and although it was dark, you could see that the property was large. And the house you were approaching was bigger than you could’ve imagined. 

Your eyes went wide. So he was rich, rich. 

You were essentially speechless as you climbed out of the truck and followed Rhett to the front door. There was a motion light that had turned on as soon as he pulled the truck to a stop, illuminating the front of the large house. It was designed to look like a rustic cabin, but much bigger. Wood beams framed the expansive porch. Even the front door was wooden. A few rocking chairs decorated the porch. Green fern plants hung from the ceiling, creating a whimsical feel.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting his home to look like, but this exceeded your wildest expectations. You drank everything in as he took you inside, standing there dumbly in the entryway as he reached over and flipped several light switches on one switchplate, illuminating the front of the home.

An entry area with a plush rug stretched out before you. It opened up into the main living room, which was furnished with two leather couches, some comfortable-looking overstuffed chairs, a bearskin rug, a custom coffee table, and so many more odds and ends that made it feel like a home. 

“Whoa,” you whispered to yourself in amazement. Your own home looked like a tattered shoebox compared to this. “How is this real?”

Rhett smiled at your wonder. “It’s real. Built it myself.”

Your eyes went wide as saucers. “You built this?!”

“Not by myself, I had a lotta help, but yeah. C’mon, let me show you where you’re gon’ be stayin’. I’ll give ya a tour tomorrow, I’m sure you’re wiped out and want some sleep.”

You were in fact wide awake, but you let him lead you up to your room anyway. You followed up up the wide, wooden staircase and up to an open hallway, complete with wooden banisters. It overlooked the main floor of the house and gave you an idea of just how big the place really was.

On your way down the hallway, you passed a few different rooms, and you noticed that one had a nameplate on it with the name Amy etched into it. You wondered if it was too forward to ask him about it, but the words were out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. 

“Who’s Amy?” You asked as you trailed after the man.

He glanced back at you. “Amy’s my niece. She don’t stay here much anymore, she’s grown, and she’s off backpackin’ through the Appalachian Trail with her wife, last I heard. I just kept her room the way it was in case she ever needs to stay with me.”

You nodded in understanding, and you wondered if she was the daughter of the brother that Rhett’s wife had cheated on him with, but you didn’t ask any more questions. You already felt like you were imposing enough as it was, and you felt it was rude to interrogate this man who’d just invited you into his home out of the goodness of his heart.

You didn’t have time to continue your questions anyway, because Rhett stopped at the end of the hall and opened the door to another bedroom, motioning for you to step inside. The first thing you noticed was its coziness, with a large, plush rug covering most of the floor. The bed was queen-sized, set inside a bedframe made of logs. 

There were rich oak nightstands on either side of the bed with ornate wrought iron lamps. There was even a flatscreen television mounted to the wall across from the bed. But best of all, there was a large, stone-hewn fireplace along the far wall. You were blown away. It was the nicest bedroom you’d ever seen. And the bed looked so inviting. Maybe you would finally get a good night’s sleep and wake up without any lower back pain, as you were prone to.

“Rhett, I…” you started, but you couldn’t form the words.

He smiled as he walked over to place your bag atop the bed. “Don’t mention it, little darlin’. For now, I want ya to get some sleep. Bathroom’s right over there,” he motioned toward a door on the other side of the room. “Should be toiletries and whatnot in there. My housekeeper Kira usually keeps everythin’ stocked.”

Your brows shot up. He had a housekeeper? It only made sense, seeing as how the place was so big and he was only one person. Even so, it was a lot to process. How on earth had you gotten so lucky to meet this guy? It still felt like a sick joke that God was playing on you. But you’d enjoy the joke for as long as you could.

However, there was no joke. No one was pulling a fast one on you. Rhett Abbott was a sincere man who truly wanted to help you, a poor waitress down on your luck. And help you, he did. After you got settled in that night, he set about doing exactly as he told you he would; taking care of things.

Over the next few weeks, he began the process of having all of your things moved to his place. He worked behind the scenes to cover all of your financial expenses. He paid any outstanding balances and bills you had, down to the very last dime. 

In just a short amount of time, your entire life changed. You went from barely keeping your head above water, to floating atop the same water on a pool float with a mimosa in hand. Rhett became your protector, your provider, the best thing to ever happen to you. 

Gone were the days of worrying if you’d have enough money to buy groceries or pay your electric bill. As the months went by, Rhett provided everything you could ever need or want. Clothes, jewelry, shoes, food, hygiene products. He spared no expense and he was more than happy to lavish you with those things.

He’d well and truly become your savior, and you would be forever grateful to him for giving you a chance when no one else would.

As time passed, and you fell into an easy routine of life with the gray-haired cowboy, you found yourself falling in love with him. Being in his presence felt so safe and warm, and you became drunk off of that feeling. You couldn’t help but fall head over heels, and he was there to catch you when you did, confessing that he, too, loved you. 

It felt natural. It felt right. And Rhett hadn’t allowed himself to love anyone in this way since his marriage had fallen apart. Even then, he never truly knew what love was. He’d only married Maria because he was afraid of being alone. A lot of good it had done him, because he’d ended up alone anyway.

But all of those events in his life had led him here, to you, and he realized then that it was all worth it. The pain, the suffering, the hardships he’d endured were simply molding him into the man you needed him to be. Taking care of you gave him purpose.

He pledged himself to you, promising that he would take care of you for as long as he lived, and even after, he would see to it that you didn’t have to worry about a thing. You would be financially set for the rest of your life. It was a concept that was so foreign to you that it was difficult to wrap your mind around.

Money would never be a concern for you ever again.

But for you, it wasn’t about the money. Of course, the financial stability was wonderful, but you came to the conclusion that you would be happy with Rhett no matter your situation. Rich, poor, anything in between. You were content with all of it as long as he was by your side. Not only was he your savior, but he was also the love of your life. 

He had so much to teach you, from all the years of life he’d lived. He’d seen so much in his forty-five years, he had many stories to tell, and you eagerly listened to all of them. As time went on, he opened up more and more. 

You were curious as to how he made so much money. He didn’t tell you all the details, but the gist was that he raised and sold cattle, and it had become a wildly successful means of living for him. Before his livestock business, he was a bull rider. You’d seen the medals and trophies in his office. He was modest about his riding career, but his awards boasted of national fame in the rodeo circuit. He was one of the best there was.

He explained that he’d had to give up riding when he was still young. “Most guys get ten or so years in the circuit. I got seven. Fucked up m’ shoulder and wrist one too many times. Got to the point where I couldn’t hold onto the ropes anymore. My last ride damn near killed me, I thought I could handle it but I lost m’ grip and went down. Landed me in the hospital for a month.”

He showed you the various scars and injuries he’d suffered during his riding career. His shoulder was littered with aged scars, which were from extensive surgeries he’d undergone just to be able to use it still.

After that, you spent many a night massaging lotion into that shoulder, just to give him some temporary relief of the pain he still suffered. He was grateful for your gentle touch, and he found himself marveling at how he got so lucky to find someone like you.

But life wasn’t all rhinestone cowboys and star-spangled rodeos. While he made an honest living with his job, he had his fair share of issues when it came to his wealth. After his divorce, he’d spiraled out of control and gotten himself in trouble with some powerful people. 

Those days were behind him, and he’d since paid his dues, but he still had those enemies who would jump at the chance to see his success go down the drain. Particularly the neighboring Tillerson ranch. 

The Abbotts had a long history with the Tillersons. And that history had carried on through each generation. Rhett’s father, Royal, had been dead for the better part of a decade, and the Tillerson patriarch, Wayne, had been dead for even longer. But his sons were still alive and kickin’. And they’d do anything to knock Rhett down a few pegs and gain the upper hand in the business realm. 

Rhett had fought tooth and nail to get where he was today. He was the son of an impoverished cowboy, he had extremely humble beginnings and was always told he wouldn’t amount to much. But he’d proved everyone wrong just by succeeding. Because of all the blood, sweat, and tears he’d put into his livelihood, he was especially protective of it, and never allowed anyone to threaten what was his. 

You knew Rhett was protective. You had seen it early on when you first met him, when he defended you against those boys in the diner. But you saw it again one day when you faced his competitors one night at a rancher’s event. 

He told you that you didn’t have to go. “Don’t want ya to feel obligated, little darlin’.”

“I want to go, so I can support you,” you insisted. “Besides, I couldn’t pass up seeing my man dressed up all fancy.”

He smiled shyly. “If you’re sure, then okay.”

“I’m sure. Plus, it’s high time I let everyone know you’re off the market, right?”

Despite your upbeat attitude, part of you was nervous. Rhett had told you how some of these people behaved, and how judgmental they could be. You were afraid of what they might say when they noticed how much younger you were than Rhett. 

But your relationship wasn’t something you wanted to hide. To hell with what others thought, or at least, that’s what you tried to convince yourself of. You wanted to walk in on Rhett’s arm and have him show you off. 

And that was exactly what you did. Rhett bought you a new dress, a deep blue to match the shirt he wore. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He wore his nicest pair of jeans, the blue shirt with a bolo tie around the collar, his most expensive belt, decorated with his favorite buckle that was polished to perfection. His silver hair was neatly combed back, and he wore a jet-black hat atop his head. 

He’d never looked more beautiful, and you couldn’t believe you were lucky enough to be called his. You walked into the event that night with your arm looped through his, butterflies of nervousness fluttering in your belly. 

“You’re gon’ do just fine,” he quietly assured you. You smiled and squeezed his bicep in thanks. 

And you were just fine. Until it came time to meet people. You were content to keep to yourself, safely tucked into Rhett’s side. But everyone noticed you, because it was a rarity for him to come to an event with a plus one. 

It was Luke Tillerson’s wife, Camilla, that took it upon herself to find out who you were. “Who’s your little friend, Rhett?” She spoke up. 

Little friend? You didn’t like her tone. But Rhett didn’t let it affect him. He tightened his arm around your waist and replied. “This here’s my girlfriend,” he introduced you. 

The woman made a face, eyeing you up and down. You immediately felt scrutinized. “Oh, how…cute.”

“She is, ain’t she?” He said, gazing down at you lovingly, purposely ignoring her implication. But he could tell you were bothered, he could see it in your eyes. You stepped closer to him, pressing yourself against his side. 

You’d never felt so out of place in your life. These people were all filthy rich. They’d been born into wealth. Surely they would see you as Rhett’s charity case if they knew your background. 

“Abbott!” A male voice suddenly interrupted the conversation. An older man dressed in an expensive suit and sporting a stereotypical handlebar mustache approached Rhett, and before you or Rhett could protest, he whisked him away, claiming he had someone for him to meet. 

This left you entirely alone with Camilla. Your palms grew sweaty and your muscles tensed. You were afraid she was going to start prying into your business. And sure enough, she did. 

“You’re awfully young,” the woman remarked, idly sipping the expensive cocktail she held between her manicured fingers. 

“And what about it?” You asked, immediately defensive. You’d been afraid this would happen. 

“Oh, don’t take it personally, hon. I just didn’t think Rhett would stoop to such a level. I mean, what are you, mid-20s? He must have been incredibly desperate.”

You bristled, your skin growing hot beneath your dress. “I really don’t appreciate that,” you gritted out. “He isn’t desperate. It’s not like that.”

Camilla laughed it off. “Oh, you sweet child. You don’t get it, do you? He’s having a midlife crisis. You’re only a phase. Once he gets sick of you? He’ll drop you like a bad habit. He’s only interested in one thing, and it’s not your brains or pretty face.”

You wanted to throw angry, biting words right back at her, but you were speechless. You couldn’t believe the audacity of this woman to speak so boldly to someone she’d never even met. You could feel tears welling in your eyes, and although you willed them to go away, they wouldn’t. 

“H-he’s not like that,” you whispered, repeating yourself. You had been with him for nearly a year. Not once did he ever display the tendencies she was describing. 

“Honey, I’m just trying to warn you so you don’t get hurt when he gets bored. Go find a man your own age before it’s too late.” 

Those tears welling in your eyes began to make their way down your cheeks before you could stop them. You couldn’t fathom how someone could be so cruel. Camilla said something else to you, but you didn’t hear her. You were too overwhelmed, too hurt. Your immediate instinct was to find Rhett. With your breath coming out in short, shallow gasps as you tried to hold in your tears, you turned, your blurry eyes scanning the room for him. 

But Rhett had already seen you, and he was making a beeline for you. As soon as he appeared in your line of sight, you knew he was going to come to your aid. He’d been watching you warily from the corner of his eye as he talked to a potential new business partner, because he knew how Camilla Tillerson was. She’d never grown out of her high school mean-girl phase, and she thought just because she was Mrs. Luke Tillerson she could behave whichever way she wanted. 

When he saw your shoulders tense, he knew something was wrong, and he excused himself to come to you. And then you turned, and there were tears in your eyes. It set off alarm bells in his head, and his chest tightened as anger welled up inside him.

As soon as he reached you, he was pulling you close, and you let yourself melt into the safety of his arms. Rhett had it handled, you didn’t have to worry anymore. “The fuck did you say to her, huh?!” He demanded.

Camilla’s eyes widened. “Nothing! I was just trying to give her some friendly advice, woman to woman.”

Rhett glared at her. “Like hell you were. You really gon’ stand there and insult my gal? And ain’t it convenient that you waited ‘til I walked away to do it?”

“Hey, there a problem here?” Another voice chimed in. This time, it was Luke’s.

Rhett sighed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, your wife. Tell her to keep her big mouth shut.”

He ignored Luke’s dramatic reaction, opting to instead end the argument and tend to you. He tucked you under his arm and he led you out of the room. You didn’t see it, but he made sure to hold his hand out behind him as he went, his middle finger in the air to get the message to Luke and his wife across. 

Once he had you outside, he led you to the truck, where he stopped to let you pull yourself together. You wiped at your wet cheeks, and he kindly gave you the handkerchief he always kept in his pocket to help. 

“How can someone be so mean?” You whimpered softly.

Rhett fought the urge to go back inside and start yelling. It wouldn’t help anything, and it would only get him banned from the event altogether for acting like a fool. Instead, he focused on you. “What’d she say to you, baby?”

You sniffled, staring down at the handkerchief as you gingerly folded the fabric over itself. You relayed the words Camilla had spoken to you, and you watched as Rhett’s jaw tightened, his chest heaving slightly. 

“That fuckin’ bitch,” he gritted out. Then he grimaced apologetically. “‘scuse the term, I don’t like to call ladies names but that one deserves it. I can’t believe she’d do that to ya.”

“It’s what I get for thinking I could measure up to all this. I’m nothing compared to all those people in there. They’re filthy rich and I’m just fuckin’ trailer park trash!”

In an instant, Rhett had your face in his hand. “Don’t you dare start talkin’ like that about yourself. I ain’t gon’ stand for it. You got just as much a right to be there as anyone else.”

“Do I? Or am I just your arm candy?” As soon as you said the words, you regretted them. 

“You know that’s not true,” he lowly said. “You’re not a fuckin’ object, alright? You’re a brilliant human being and I’m sorry the others can’t see that.”

You wanted to say more, but you were too emotional. “Can we please just go home?”

Rhett sighed softly, but relented. “We’ll talk more about it later.” And then he opened the passenger door of the truck and allowed you to climb in. 

Camilla’s words and attitude had really gotten to you. You knew what she said about Rhett wasn’t true, but there was still that nagging voice of insecurity that made you think it was true. 

What if he did eventually get bored of you? What if he didn’t even love you and he truly was only interested in you for what you brought to the table sexually? Those were all lies, and you knew that. But the longer you let them fester, the more tortured you felt. 

When you arrived home that night, you went right up to the bedroom without saying a word to Rhett. He stood at the foot of the steps and watched you go up, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he sighed tiredly and sauntered over to his extravagant liquor cabinet. 

He poured himself a glass of whiskey, downing it in one go before he poured another, and then made his way upstairs to where you were already getting ready for bed. He decided to give you a few moments of silence before he tried talking to you again. You obviously needed a little time. 

Instead, he busied himself with getting ready for bed himself, shedding his clothes and slipping into a fresh pair of underwear to sleep in. Then he finished off his whiskey before he headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

It wasn’t long before he was settling into bed, all while you were still busy at your vanity, going through your skincare ritual. He gave you that time to yourself as he cracked open the book he’d been reading the last few nights, perching his reading glasses on his nose as he did so. 

A few minutes later, you joined him in bed, slipping beneath the plush covers. He didn’t waste another moment as he quickly set his book aside. “We need to talk this out.”

You sighed. “I know.”

“Do you? Because I don’t think y’ do.”

You looked at him with a furrowed brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Listen, I ain’t the best with words, but…I don’t think you know just how much you mean to me. I don’t give a shit what Camilla Tillerson says. She’s wrong, you hear me? You’re not just some phase that I’m gon’ get bored of. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. You make me a better man and I’m forever grateful, you hear me? So fuck what all them prissy, starch-collared cowboys think. Because I know the truth. And the truth is that you’re the love of my life. Nothing’s gon’ change that.” 

At his earnest confession, your eyes welled with tears again. “Oh, Rhett,” you whispered. You moved closer, wrapping your arms around him. 

“I love you, you hear me, girl? I’ll love you ‘til the day I die.”

And somehow, you knew he would.  

His confession eased your fears, but there was still that little insecure voice within you. However, somewhere along the way, you determined in your heart that you were done caring about what people thought. 

You loved Rhett, and he loved you. You weren’t going to hide that. So you continued attending events with him, walking in with your head held high, proud to be standing by your man’s side. You didn’t let anyone talk poorly about him, or yourself. You stayed far away from Camilla Tillerson, and you refused to listen to comments that she or her family made toward you. What they thought didn’t matter. 

Rhett proved his love to you over and over again. He showed you that what you shared was real and true. That you were the only one for him. And it wasn’t long before he pledged that love to you with a ring. 

You were married in the woods. You wore a whimsical dress with a crown of flowers in your hair. You even got Rhett to wear flowers in his hair. You said your vows under an old weeping willow, with the local pastor officiating. Rhett’s niece Amy and her wife flew in to witness the marriage, and his mother Cecelia, who was well up in years, but still just as lucid and fiery as she’d ever been, came too. 

It was a quiet, intimate ceremony. And after it was all said and done, Rhett treated you to a honeymoon in the mountains, in a little log cabin built for two. It was blissful and dreamy and everything you ever could’ve hoped your honeymoon to be. 

He treated you like a queen, and you knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was it for you. There was no one else you could imagine spending your life with. He’d found you at rock bottom and offered you a steady hand to hold, slowly pulling you to your feet and building you up until your old life was but a bad memory. 

With Rhett, you wanted for nothing. You were loved, provided for, protected. He was the greatest gift you’d ever been bestowed, and you cherished him every waking moment. 

Now, whenever there were business events to attend, you walked proudly by his side, displaying the beautiful ring he’d placed upon your finger, letting everyone know that you were the one that had made Rhett Abbott believe in romance again after all these years of wallowing in his own loneliness. 

Your life together was sweet, and it went down easy like a spoonful of honey. Gone were the rough days and the fear of wondering if you’d end up living on the streets. Now, you woke up every morning to the sun streaming through your windows and your husband’s strong arm slung across your waist, and you silently whispered a prayer of thanks to the universe for it.

That was exactly the kind of morning you’d just woken up to. It was early, especially to be awake on a Sunday morning, but you were alert as could be. Beside you, Rhett was still sleeping peacefully, the sheets slung loosely over his naked hip, his silver hair mussed against the pillow. 

Sundays were his day of rest. He wasn’t above doing hard labor, and could often be found working out in the fields with his ranch hands. But Sundays were reserved for rest and spending time with you. Usually, you would gently wake him, but because it was early, you decided to let him rest a little longer. He deserved it after a long and arduous week. 

Instead, you slipped out of bed and went to get into your swimsuit so you could jump into the in ground pool in the back. Although the sun had barely been up that long, it was already quite hot outside, and you were eager to take a dip in the cool water to start your day. 

You donned a white bikini. It was simple, but it was Rhett’s favorite. Particularly because the straps wear easy to untie and gave him easy access to the body that he loved so much. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, because you knew he would be delighted to wake up to the sight of you in your skimpy bathing suit clinging to your wet skin.

As you sneaked back through the bedroom, he was still sound asleep, and you left him be. You padded through the house with your feet bare, the air conditioning cool against your exposed skin as you went, raising goosebumps in its wake. 

But the second you stepped outside, you warmed right up. You stopped to grab a beach towel and a bottle of SPF in the outdoor cabinet near the door, and then you took a moment to put on the cream, allowing it to soak in for a bit before you stepped toward the pool and dipped your foot in, shivering at the coolness. 

Sucking in a breath, you finally went for it, quickly lowering yourself off of the concrete edge and plunging straight into the water. You squeaked at the cold shock, but moments later, your body grew used to the temperature, and you relaxed, closing your eyes for a moment before you swam to the other edge of the pool to grab a large innertube to float around on. 

You pulled it over your body and then rested your arms over the inflated edge, breathing out a sigh as you let yourself float around aimlessly. You rested your head atop your hands, letting your eyes drift shut as the water gently lapped at your body. It felt heavenly, and you relished in every moment of it.

You couldn’t believe that this was your reality. A giant in-ground pool in the middle of a glorious ranch in Wyoming. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined you’d be in this position, but here you were, all thanks to your million dollar man. 

“Thought I’d find y’ out here.” Speak of the devil.

You smiled, lifting your head to take in the sight of your husband. He was dressed only in the white underwear he’d worn to bed, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander brazenly, drifting toward his crotch.

“Mornin’, Daddy,” you sighed. 

He raised a brow as he stopped at the edge of the pool. You eagerly swam toward him, and he leaned down to kiss you. “Mornin’, little darlin’. Sleep okay?”

“Like a baby.”

He smiled, kissing you again before he turned, opting to take a seat on one of the soft lounge chairs. You watched as he reached into the side table that stood beside the chair, pulling out his pipe set. You couldn’t help but bite your lips as you watched him ready the old pipe. It had been given to him by his grandfather, and he only used it once in a while. It was intricate, hand carved and passed down through the generations.

He noticed you eyeing him, and he smirked. “What? I’m feelin’ fancy this mornin’, sue me.”

You shook your head. “Oh, no, keep going. You know how sexy I think you look with a pipe.”

He rolled his eyes as he pressed a scoop of cherry tobacco down into the pipe. “Yeah. Sexy like a fuckin’ grandfather.”

“Exactly.”

He snorted in laughter. “Oh I’m sorry, I forgot who I was dealin’ with. My wife loves old men.”

You giggled in response. “Hey, I only have eyes for one old man, and that’s you.”

You shared a good-natured, knowing look with him before you spontaneously turned and dipped back into the water. Rhett leaned back against the lounge chair, taking a puff from the pipe and letting the smoke curl into the air. He watched you through hooded eyes, admiring the way your body moved in the water. He noticed that you were wearing his favorite bikini of yours, and he couldn’t help but groan low in his chest. 

You swam about for a few more laps, all under Rhett’s watchful eye, before you finally decided to get out of the water. You felt his gaze on your body as you emerged from the pool dripping wet, bathing suit clinging to your skin. Your nipples were prominent beneath the fabric against your breasts, and Rhett could see it clearly. 

You grabbed the towel you’d set out early, using it to dry your body, right in front of your husband. You turned to catch his cool blue gaze, and the way he was looking at you made you weak in the knees. He stared right at you as he brought his pipe back to his lips, and this time, when he released the smoke, he created smoke rings that floated up into the air. 

God, did he really have to make everything so sexy?

“What’s’a matter, honey?” He teased, a twinkle in his eye.

“Nothin’!” You peeped, shaking your head as you finished trying off. 

He smirked again, and you wanted to wipe it off his face. Then he leaned back, spreading his legs. You had full view of his cock, and those heavy balls of his, barely hidden by the fabric of his underwear. You swore you began salivating, and he wasn’t even hard yet. 

“Come sit on daddy’s lap, little darlin’.”

Oh, so that’s how he wanted to play. Without a word of protest, you tossed your towel aside and climbed into his lap. He set his pipe in its cradle so both of his hands could rest on your hips. “Look so pretty, glimmerin’ like a fuckin’ diamond,” he mused, admiring your damp, shimmering skin.

You leaned in, searching out his lips, and he obliged you, kissing you languidly. In the process, you lifted your hand, discreetly tugging at one of the ties on your bikini top. When you parted, the top conveniently fell, revealing your breast.

“Oh, oopsie!” You exclaimed. 

Rhett rolled his eyes. “Yeah, oopsie.” But he brought his hand up to untie the other side, and then the back. With ease, he plucked the fabric from your body and tossed it aside, revealing your chest. “Much better.” Then he surged forward, opening his mouth to swirl his hot, wet tongue around a nipple. 

You gasped lowly when he closed his lips around the little bud, suckling softly. “Know I can’t resist these fuckin’ gorgeous titties,” he growled, teeth nipping at you. 

“I know,” you gasped, “‘s why I wore this set.”

He grinned at you as he made quick work of untying the bottoms. “I figured. Dirty little slut, know exactly how to get daddy goin’, don’t ya?”

He went back to mouthing at your breast, his other hand coming up to knead at the one he wasn’t laving his tongue all over. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing yourself closer to him as you relished in the feeling of his teeth gently scraping against your nipples. It sent shockwaves of pleasure crackling along your spine, and you could feel yourself growing wetter by the minute. 

Rhett was obsessed with your tits. He always wanted his hands or his mouth all over them, and you were more than happy to oblige. 

“Can’t get enough of ya,” he murmured, his large, warm hands squeezing your ass. “Mind if I fuck t’ out here, baby? Or would you rather go inside where it’s cooler?” He was always so considerate of your comfort. 

“Out here,” you gasped as you pulled his mouth to yours, your fingers threading through that silvery hair. “Don’t wanna wait.”

He hummed in amusement. “Impatient lil thang,” he drawled. 

“Can’t help it,” you sighed as you positioned yourself so your pussy was against his slowly hardening cock. “Need my daddy right now.”

He growled low in his chest. “Yeah? Poor baby, daddy’ll give you what you need.” 

You whined in response, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you began to rock your hips back and forth. His big arms came up to wrap around your torso, and you basked in the feeling, eyes drifting shut. You felt so safe, surrounded by him. The sweet scent of cherry tobacco was comforting, paired with the scent of his shampoo, and the natural, intoxicating musk that could only be described as Rhett. 

You could get drunk off of his scent alone. 

When he realized you were inhaling him, he hummed knowingly. You were like a little puppy, the way you always sniffed at him. He found it endearing. 

But then he felt your cunt soaking through the fabric of his underwear, right against his cock, and he forgot all about that cute little quirk of yours, his brain short-circuiting. 

Above him, you could feel him growing harder and harder against you. It was your favorite feeling, because when he was hard, he grew so big. You’d never forget the first time you saw his hard cock. You had meekly questioned how it was going to fit inside you. 

Now you took it like a champ, but that didn’t mean you didn’t still like to talk it up and tell him how big he was. You knew how much it got him going. 

You looked down, and whimpered pathetically when you saw him growing between your legs. Almost frantically, you began rutting your hips more quickly, building friction. 

“Hey now,” Rhett drawled, “slow down there, baby. We got all mornin’, ain’t no rush.”

He tipped your chin up to kiss you again, and you shivered in his arms. “I know. But I wan’ you now. Need to be full, need your fat fucking cock inside me.”

Rhett’s eyes widened at your brazen language. He wasn’t shocked by it, he just wasn’t used to you being so bold right off the bat. Usually, it took getting you a little worked up for the filthy talk to start, but he was already getting your unfiltered desires and you’d barely even begun.

Before he could reply, you were scrambling to get his underwear down his legs. Moving quickly, he aided you, yanking them down the rest of the way and kicking them aside. 

Without warning, your hand was on him, stroking him to full hardness as he grunted in surprise. You leaned forward and let a trail of spit fall from your pursed mouth, right onto the shiny, pink tip. 

You used it as lubricant to stroke him further, but within seconds, he was gently pulling your hand away. He then reached between your thighs and slid his middle and ring fingers inside you, pulling a sharp gasp from your throat. “Gotta get you ready,” he murmured, and suddenly he was fucking his fingers into you hard and fast as you squealed and fell forward against him, the obscene wet sound reaching your ears. 

You weakly grasped at his arm, unable to speak, but you knew if he kept going you’d end up squirting all over him. “Da-d-daddy!” You managed to squeak. 

And then, all at once, he stopped. He pulled his fingers from you and used your slick to further lube up his cock. You watched, salivating as the tip began to glisten with precum. Eagerly, you reached down, swiping your finger over the slit and smearing it around. 

Rhett gasped, shivering at the sensitivity. 

“So pretty, Daddy,” you mused, admiring the glimmering hardness beneath you. 

“S’all for you, little darlin’,” he rasped. Then he grabbed your hips, arranging you properly before he aligned himself with you. “Let’s see if this needy pussy is ready f’ me.”

He ran the plush tip over your aching clit, and you trilled softly, closing your eyes in anticipation. Then, finally, you felt him as your entrance. Slowly, oh so slowly, he began to push into you. Little by little, your anatomy stretched to accommodate him. You could feel every vein, every twitch, and it already had your eyes rolling back in your head. 

“‘ere you go,” he praised, his eyes fixed on the place where your bodies met. “Just a little further. C’mon honey, I know you can do it.”

At his encouragement, you sank down all the way, until you felt his balls pressing against you and you’d taken him down to the hilt. Then you glanced down and smiled proudly. “I did it, Daddy. I took the whole thing!”

Rhett beamed. “Atta girl. Takin’ it like you were made to.” His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb stroking the skin. “You wan’ do it by yourself or do ya need Daddy’s help?”

Your brow furrowed as you considered the ultimatum. “I wanna try to do it by myself first.”

He nodded, leaving a kiss to your knows. “Alright then, go ahead. Take what y’ need.”

You placed your hands on his big, broad shoulders and began to slowly move atop him, using your thighs to lift yourself off before sinking back down. Rhett’s own hands found purchase on your thighs, lovingly squeezing at the flesh, enjoying the feeling of you building your own rhythm. 

As you did so, he dipped his head forward again, mouthing at your breasts, tongue swirling around each nipple. You let out a soft moan at the feeling, taking in every sensation you felt. 

The stretch of his cock inside you, the shock of his teeth nipping at your sensitive flesh, the feeling of his hands, calloused from years of work, resting on your thighs. His presence was so big and manly, surrounding you entirely. You felt so safe, like nothing in the world could harm you. 

“Love you, Daddy,” you breathed as you began moving faster, focusing on the task at hand. Up, down, swivel your hips against his. A steady rhythm that you stayed with, periodically tightening around him as you did so. 

“Love you too, baby.”

Rhett watched you above him, his eyes shining like the stars. You were so beautiful like this, slipping into the throes of pleasure. He wished he could have this moment etched in gold and display it on the walls of his home. 

Your soft whimpers filled his head, swirling around like the smoke from his pipe. The sweetest music to his ears. He ran his hands along your body, as if committing the feel of your soft skin to memory. 

“So pretty like this, ain’t ya? Usin’ Daddy for your own pleasure.”

At that, you moaned, opening your eyes to gaze into his own. “Feels so good.”

“I know. I can feel you gettin’ wetter.”

And he could. Your arousal had begun to drip down against his balls, and you were so slick that you had to focus on being careful so you didn’t accidentally take him too deep and hurt yourself. 

But soon, your thighs began to burn, and you grew fatigued from doing all the work. You’d bitten off more than you could chew. You needed help. 

“C-can you take over, please?” You asked. 

“Already?” He cooed. “I thought for sure you’d last longer. You’re just a pathetic little thing, ain’t ya? Need Daddy’s help with everything.”

“Yes sir,” you agreed, nodding your head and gazing at him with doe eyes. 

“Don’t worry. I gotcha.” His hands tightened around your hips, and suddenly, he was moving you up and down on his cock with his sheer strength. You gasped loudly, immediately falling forward against his strong chest as he did so. 

You felt every inch stretching you, splitting you open. Your mouth parted to let out your unabashed moans and whines, already so blissed out that you were drooling against his chest. 

He began shifting his hips up to meet yours each time he brought you down, jarring you as he fucked you fast and deep, fingertips digging into the flesh of your ass. 

But he didn’t let you get too used to that position, because it wasn’t long before he was suddenly pulling you off of him. You squeaked in protest, looking at him in confusion. 

“Want you on y’re hands and knees,” he gruffed. He slipped out from under you, and you watched his hard cock bob as he got up, glistening in the morning light. 

He had to arrange you how he saw fit, because you were too preoccupied staring at his dick. Then he was behind you, clutching your hip with one hand while the other aligned himself with your cunt. 

In one swift but careful thrust, he was back inside you, and you all but howled against the lounge chair. He lifted his hand to swat your ass, leaving a brief sting that was soothed by his gentle palm. 

Then that same hand rested on the small of your back as he pushed you all the way forward so your face was against the cushion. Then he began to roll his hips forward, and you whined at the feeling. This angle was so much more intense, and he felt even bigger somehow. 

“S’big, Daddy!”

“I know. Poor little pussy’s just stretchin’ so wide to take me. I don’t know, think I should pull out and make you take m’ fingers instead?” He pulled his hips back, and you gasped, immediately reaching back to grab at his arm. 

“No! I can take it, promise! I’m a big girl!”

“Are you? And here I was under the impression that y’ were just a little thing.”

“No! Please!” You begged. 

Then he thrust forward, and you let out a wail into the open air. Good thing no one could hear you back here. “Alright then. Wan’ you to lay there and take every last inch of Daddy’s dick.”

And you did. He fucked you hard and fast, and you clawed at the cushions for purchase, your mouth open, your eyes screwed shut. It felt like heaven, and you were certain you weren’t even on Earth in that moment. You were floating above yourself, watching your husband claim you as his. 

Again, drool spilled from your mouth, this time soaking the fabric of the cushion beneath you. You moaned and squealed and cried out, wonderfully blissed out. 

But all too soon, Rhett was switching positions again. He pulled out of you once more, and this time, you wailed. “Daddy, no!”

“Be fuckin’ patient,” he huffed as he turned you onto your back. “I’m gon’ give it back to you.” He shoved your knees up toward your chest, and then he was inside you again, stealing the breath from your lungs. 

This time, he pressed the weight of his body against you, keeping you grounded as he began fucking into you. A hand came up to wrap around your throat, squeezing the sides, not to cut off airflow, but blood flow. Within seconds, your head was going woozy, and Rhett grinned down at you. 

“Filthy little slut. Bet you’d come right now just from my hand around your throat if I let ya.”

You would, because you’d done it before. However, that wasn’t his goal in that particular instance. He simply wanted to watch the way your body reacted to it. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your mouth fell open, leaving you in this state of pure, unadulterated bliss. 

He felt you tighten around him, and he grunted, pushing his cock even deeper. Your hands clutched at his flexed forearm, nails digging into the skin, sure to leave marks. He growled and grunted above you like a goddamned animal, fucking you within an inch of your life, and you took it like the good girl you were. 

And then you felt it. The tip of his cock brushed something inside you that sent you into orbit. 

“That’s it. Look at’cha. Got your eyes rollin’ back in your fuckin’ head.” Then he grabbed one of your hands and brought it down to your lower abdomen. “Feel that?” 

All you could do was squeak in reply. 

“‘S Daddy’s cock inside ya.”

At that, you let out a deep keen, tears beginning to stream down the sides of your face. You sobbed and moaned and made all sorts of sounds that you might’ve otherwise been embarrassed about, but Rhett couldn’t get enough. 

Then his scruffy face was nuzzling into your neck, and his teeth were nipping at your pulse point, and you swore you were going to black out from the glorious intensity. 

“D-d-” was what came out of your mouth. He knew what you were trying to say. 

“What is it, huh darlin’? What’s my baby need?” Suddenly his fingers were at your aching clit, rubbing short, sharp circles, and you jolted against him like a live wire, pussy clamping around him. “Oh, that’s what you needed. Poor thing, Daddy was neglecting that sweet little clit. I’m sorry.” 

He kissed you, swallowing your cries as he pumped his hips in time with his fingers at your clit. That, paired with his free hand still around your throat, you knew you were a goner. 

“Go-gonna c-c-come! Please D-Daddy can I–”

But you didn’t even have to ask. “Come.” 

And you did. You tried to scream, but it died in your throat. Instead, your mouth opened, but no sound came out. Rhett stayed close, his forehead pressed to yours as you fell apart around his pistoning cock. 

You were free-falling, plunged straight into the depths of an orgasm so fiery and all-consuming that you lost yourself to it. You were not of yourself. You were on an entirely different plane of existence, vibrating with crackling electricity, as if you were a bolt of lightning flashing through the sky. 

The molten heat surged through you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. And Rhett held you the entire time, your body trembling fiercely in his arms. 

It took some time to come back to yourself, and when you did, you found him gazing down at you, his eyes as clear blue as the sky above him. He let out a breathless laugh. “Hey there, darlin’. Welcome back to earth.” He’d slowed the movement of his hips just to let you recover. 

“I…wow,” was all you could say. 

“That was intense, huh?”

You nodded, your eyes watery. 

“You okay to keep goin’? Or do you need a break?”

“I-I think I’m…okay.”

But that didn’t convince him. “Look at Daddy.” You lifted your eyes to his gaze. “I need a for-sure answer. Can I keep goin’?”

“Yes,” you finally answered with confidence. “Wan’ you to keep going, please Daddy.”

He smiled softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Good girl, that’s all I needed.” Then he kissed you before he leaned back, pushing your knees toward your chest again. 

And just like that, the switch was flipped, and he slipped right back into that harsh dominance, as if it was a well-fitted glove.  Suddenly he seemed so much bigger above you, and you felt tiny. It made your heart sing. 

Slowly, he began to move within you again, and you whined, closing your eyes at the delicious stretch. Rhett leaned back to admire the sight of your pussy swallowing him whole, and the creamy ring of your cum that now decorated the base of his cock. 

He reached down, swiping his fingers against the base and gathering your slick before he brought those same fingers to your mouth, sliding them past your lips. “Tastes so good, don’t it?” He murmured lowly, and you nodded in agreement, eyes wide and watery, gazing up at him with such trust and adoration. 

He leaned in to kiss you, tasting your cum on your lips. He stayed close, wrapping your legs around your waist and pressing his chest to yours. He began to fuck you deep and slow, rutting into you. This allowed you to feel every inch, every spasm, everything. 

He caged you in with his big strong arms, protecting you from the word. You were so safe. So secure. Rhett would protect you from all harm. 

“You mind if Daddy fills y’ up, baby?”

“Please,” came your whisper. 

“Good. ‘Cause ‘m close.”

With his mouth against yours, he began to pick up the pace again. Quick but deep thrusts, cock battering that spot inside you that made your toes curl. It was inevitable that you’d come once more before he did, just by the way he had you feeling. A steady pressure had begun to build deep within the core of your being, and eventually, it would have to be released. 

Then his fingers were at your sensitive clit again and you were mewling into his open mouth. Stars danced in your eyes, on your skin. You felt like you were part of a glittering galaxy. 

Your arms found their place around your husband’s shoulders, and you held tightly to him as he went a little faster, a little deeper. Building and building and building. And you were already growing closer by the second. You knew your end was almost upon you. 

“Daddy!”

“Go ahead.”

This time, when you came, it flooded from you, soaking Rhett’s cock, dripping down beneath you onto the lounge cushion. It was his turn to have his eyes roll back in his head, and he fucked you through it. 

“Fuck, got this pussy squirtin’ all over me,” he hissed, slipping out of you to run the tip of his cock rapidly over your clit, prolonging your orgasm and making you cry out. 

Just as you came down, he slid back into your still-spasming cunt, grunting at the tightness that surrounded him. He gripped your thighs in his strong grasp and his focus shifted to chasing his release. 

Beneath him you were so far gone that all you could do was lay there and take it, still writhing in bliss, silent, pleasured tears falling. Your head was swimming, you felt as if you were floating through time and space. 

“Look at me,” Rhett’s lilted baritone filled your fuzzy head, and you opened your eyes, locking your gaze with his. “Gon’ fill your pretty pussy up. Want you to take it all like my good little darlin’.”

You nodded, eager to take his load. His movements quickened, hands clutching you tight as he thrust forward hard and fast. You held onto him to keep yourself grounded, body trembling, hovering on the brink of being too overstimulated to handle much more. 

And then, finally, you felt it. Rhett gasped, mouth falling open as his orgasm overwhelmed him. He kept his hips flush with yours, cock spasming within you, spilling the heat of his release into the deepest part of you. And you took it all gladly, body relaxing entirely at the feeling of him claiming you. You’d never tire of it. 

He gradually came down, his body falling limp above you, though he still kept himself from pressing his full body weight into you. His softening cock was still nestled inside you, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, hoping to keep him there a little longer. 

“M’ good girl,” he cooed down at you. “Took that so well.”

You smiled dreamily up at him. You didn’t quite have the wherewithal to speak, but that was okay. He didn’t need you to speak. Gingerly, he moved to slip out of you, but you whined in protest, not wanting to part from him. 

“Y’ gotta let me go, honey. Can’t stay like this forever.”

“W-want you close,” you whispered. 

“I know, and you can have me. But I gotta get you cleaned up first. And it’s gettin’ hotter by the minute, I ain’t about to let my pretty little gal get heatstroke on my account.”

He kissed you sweetly as he pulled his hips back, shushing your cries. You hated the initial empty feeling, especially when you were feeling fragile like this. But Rhett was quick to soothe you. 

“Up ya go.” He lifted you to your feet, and you wobbled a little, still woozy. He secured a steady arm around you and guided you back into the house. 

It was much cooler inside, and it felt good on your heated skin. However, you hardly even registered what was taking place, you were still feeling floaty. But Rhett had it handled. 

He guided you upstairs, where he made sure you used the bathroom and took a quick shower just to rinse off. You didn’t have to make any of the decisions for yourself, because he did it for you, knowing you couldn’t handle trying to clean up by yourself. You needed this form of aftercare for your own well-being. 

A little while later, you were clean, and dressed in one of his old rodeo t-shirts. You felt a little more like yourself, albeit a little fuzzy. Rhett had just finished helping you put lotion on your legs, and he was smiling up at you from where he knelt on the floor. 

“I’ll bet you’re hungry after all that work,” he teased. 

You hummed sleepily. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“How do some blueberry pancakes sound for my little darlin’?”

It was your turn to smile. “Sounds so good.”

“Alright then, let’s head on downstairs. You’re also gon’ drink yourself a nice glass of water while you’re waitin’ for your food. Ain’t gonna have you dehydratin’ on me.”

You hummed in agreement and allowed him to lead you out of the bedroom and back downstairs. He kissed the top of your head as you went, and you sighed happily, feeling at peace. 

You were led to the kitchen, where you sat at the round table and waited for your husband to prepare your breakfast. As promised, he slid a glass of water in front of you and encouraged you to drink it. You sipped on it as you watched him move about the kitchen, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how good you had it. 

Spending the morning being fucked by the pool, and having breakfast made for you? The old you could never have imagined this would be the case. You were eternally grateful that life had given you a second chance and allowed this man to come to your rescue when you needed him most. 

You had faced a lot of adversity in your life, but now, it all seemed worth it, because it led you here. 

Rhett truly was your saving grace. The yin to your yang. The moon to your stars. He was your million dollar man, and you wouldn’t trade him, or his love, for anything else in the world. 

-

tagging those who might be interested (if you liked/reblogged any of my mdm promotional posts, i tagged you lol)

@eternallyvenus @up-thereinthesky @antiquitea @cdauni @coffeewithcal @rhettabbotts @combat-sixty-three @karma-is-my-girlfrined @blitchenslibrary @whoeverineedtobe @l-ynsdove @ravenmoore14 @virgo-wonder @sugarcoated-lame @sebsxphia @peachystenbrough @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @damrlova @randomfandomgirl97 @bobfloyds @beepitybeepboop @buckys-estrella @callsign-magnolia @sunblchdfly @wkndwlff @withahappyrefrain @creatchie8 @topgun-imagines @lovinglyeternal @bobfloydsbabe

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Never Say Die [2]

| Part one | you are here | part 3 | part 4

Everyone seemed to want a part two… so here’s another part! (Also name title comes from a Black Sabbath song lol)

Steve took a few steps in the house. His hands shook as he barely could see through the shirt that was over his face. Concealing his identity from the neighbors. He knows that Hopper and Joyce’s intentions were positive, but his mind was playing tricks on him. For a split second he was back in Russia, blind fold over his eyes as he’s being dragged from a van. Still in his sailer suit. Blood all over his face, the ashes of star-court still lingering on him. Not even given the chance to wash them off on the flight here.

Though When the blindfold is pulled off he’s in the doorway of a very nice home, not in the middle of a Russian cell. He can feel his body shaking a bit from the memory. Before he takes a shaky breath, closing his eyes. All of this seemed a little to easy. What if he was making it all up in his head? What if he was currently in a cell right now losing his mind. He wouldn’t put it past himself. He has had dreams so real about returning home before, to only wake up and get the shit beat out of him.

Hoppers quick to stand in front of him. Protecting him. Steve’s eyes snap open quickly, tears slowly forming in his eyes when he realizes what the older man is doing. It’s been a while since someone’s protected him, and not the other way around. Sure, once upon a time in the prison someone did protect him. But that barely lasted a couple of days before the guy disappeared in the middle of the night. Now Steve knew he fought a demogorgan and lost.

“Mom, what’s going on?” It’s Will’s turn to voice his concern. Steve can’t see him through Hoppers back but he knows how his face is pinched up. Joyce, who was currently standing next to Steve smiles shakily. Tears in her eyes, light footsteps moving fast across the wooden floor start to come in their direction.

“Will, everything’s fine. It’s just.. a surprise guest dropped in. A good surprise. “ Joyce explains putting her hand up. Gesturing for the other to stop. Which is what immediately happens. “Why don’t you go back and tell everyone to go gather in the living room. Let them know we’ll be out in a second.” Joyce instructs. Moving forward out of Steve’s sight. Who can already picture her smoothing the boys hair, wrapping her arms around Will in a comforting manner. Something he’s seen thousands of times and has always envied.

“And tell them, if any of them even think about stepping out of that living room I’ll make sure no one’s allowed to play that Dogs and Donuts game.” Hoppers voice is stern. Steve was standing behind him and it was bringing the fear of god into him. Though he has to hold back laughter because he knows the guy was purposely getting the name wrong.

A few footsteps and seconds past and he can hear Will in the living room. Voices starting to echo through the walls as both of the adults. Who were very concerned, pull Steve into the kitchen. Joyce is already pulling food out for him. Setting a plate on the table within seconds. He hesitates, before he’s moving and awkwardly sitting down. Eyes skimming the room. A habit of his that he’s picked up. Within seconds he already knows where he can exit quickly if it was needed.

“How are you alive?” Hopper asks first, getting straight to the point. Moving and leaning on the table as he looks at Steve with that serious expression again. The same one he held in interrogation rooms.

Steve chuckles shakily, “Russian Prison.” He answers simply before he’s wolfing down his food. He’s sure he was going to throw it up in a little bit anyway. It’s been a long time since he’s had home cooked food. His stomach was already shifting uncomfortably from how much he was eating. “I didn’t die during the explosion thingy, I hopped down and well. Here I am. Woke up in a van in the middle of Russia later on and found my way back home. In quick summary.” Steve explains quickly. Body tense at even the mention of the prison. Thankful for the fact Hopper knew when to back down from something like this. Eyes filled with concern.

“How do you want to do this?” He asks changing the subject.

“We can pull them one at a time in here and have them see you?” Joyce tosses the idea out there.

“No. Just want to rip it off like a bandaid. Get it all done and over with. I cant-” Steve says shakily. Dropping the fork on the plate as he stares down at the table. “I can’t choose who I want to see first. I want to see them all at once or none at all.” He admits. Moving his eyes up to challenge Hopper. Unsure whether or not they were going to allow him to see them. There shouldn’t be doubt in his mind, but there was just a smidge. Hard to trust anyone anymore. He barely knew the two adults in front of him. Only a few awkward conversations in the past.

“Alright… you ready?” Hopper asks. Moving to stand properly. Not even bothering to battle whatever imaginary war that was in Steve’s head. Steve was not ready, he never would be. He moves standing up. Left arm holding his side as he nods his head. Moving to follow the other. Hearing the hushed panicked voices in the living room. A couple curse words following along with them.

Before Steve can get a step in Joyce is stopping him. “Hold on, let me give them a warning.” She smiles softly before turning and moving into the living room. That was still mostly bare from the move in. Steve shakily crosses his arms over his chest as he tries to focus on breathing. He didn’t want to freak out to much while everyone was. He had to be the emotional rock. He looks down at the floor, not wanting to look up at Hopper. Faintly listening to Joyce begin to ramble right behind him.

“So… this wasn’t planned at all. It’s news to me.” She sounded like she was crying already. “But- this person. You aren’t expecting him and I know some of you are going to be excited to see him but he has some injuries. So maybe try not to jump him or overwhelm him.” Joyce warns. Everyone’s already starting to ask questions all at once. “I’m serious guys. He came from god knows where, doing god knows what.” She says finally hushing the crowd down.

Steve finally gets his signal from Hopper. His hands were shaking as he moves. Carefully limping a bit to the doorway. One hand on his side as he leans on it. Eyes landing on everyone in the room. Searching for Dustin and Robin. “Where’s Henderson?” Is his first question. Eyes squinting trying to see, his vision wasn’t nearly as good as what it used to be. Along with the fact he could barely hear out of his right ear. But thanks to the amazing government he was able to get a hearing aid fitted.

He knew that everyone was going to be shocked, but the way everyone’s faces go white makes a shiver go up his spine. All color leaving the room with the acceptation of Eddie and the boy with long silky hair. Both who didn’t know him. Steve’s looking around the group, to many faces and reactions overwhelming him before he sees Dustin throwing himself at him. Moving away from Eddie, who was stunned by how fast the kid could move.

Before he could tackle Steve, Hoppers catching him as says something. Dustin’s already in tears as he moves more carefully as he still hugs him. Steve’s hands shakily wrapping themselves around him, only taking a second before he’s tightly hugging the boy. Squeezing his eyes shut as he feels like one of the numerous missing pieces was just placed in his heart. He didn’t realize how much he missed the little shit until now.

“I watched you die.” Dustin sobs, body shaking in Steve’s arms. Steve feels like a leaf, he’s close to falling from the effort to keep them both up. He’s in tears himself, when he catches the green of his letterman jacket walking in from the other side of the room. Coming from the bathroom most likely.

“What’s happening?” Robins voice is loud and clear as she looks at everyone. Not given a chance to process Steve standing in the walkway.

“Didn’t figure you to be a basketball jock there buck.” Steve laughs softly. Watching as it all hits her as well. And she’s already sprinting, squirming out of Hoppers reach as she nearly tackles Steve and Dustin.

“Ow ow ow, I think you guys just turned my lungs to dust.” He gasps in pain. Both of them stepping back from him as he nearly falls. Holding his side, as he try’s to steady his breathing.

“Here let’s get you sitting.”

Steve nods his head as he moves to Joyce, who’s concern was only peaking. Leaning on her a bit as she helps him to the empty spot on the couch. Which was right next to Eddie. He’s coughing a little, lungs burning from the pain in his side. A shaky inhale of air as he looks at the other curiously. Before his eyes move to land over on the boy with silky hair who was watching him confused.

“Hey.” He chuckles awkwardly lifting his hand up as the boy smiles waving back at him.

“This- this is Argyle.” Jonathan pops in. Looking anxious at the sight of him. Nancy looked like she was a goldfish.

“Hey wheeler.” Steve chuckles, not caring about her what’s so ever. Who he cared about the most were both standing in front of him now. Nearly hyperventilating. He opens his arms out a bit, “come on you dorks. Be careful of the stitches though. I am not redoing them again.” He laughs as they both move carefully. Robin in his lap curling in on his chest. He moves getting comfortable, the exhaustion getting the best of him as he offers a arm for Dustin who was also seeking some comfort. His eyes and nose were burning from the effort of holding back tears.

“No offense but you look like shit, and I can barely see.” Max tosses in. Standing up now to get a better look at him.

Steve snorts, “I can barely see or hear and you sound and look like shit kid.” He says amused. Earning a snort. “What happened to you?” He asks curiously.

“Vecna.”

He freezes. Everybody was looking at him as he glances around, “wait the big cone head looking dude with the ET fingers?” Steve asks. He hadn’t realized that he had made it to Hawkins within the time he was away. He’s gotten hints, even seen him once. Drawings of what he looked like up on the Russian walls. From his understanding he created a portal, to trade demogorgans for the life of the prisoners. Which was apparently how he got so strong to be able to finally reach his way to Hawkins and use his powers without needing the person physically in the upside down.

“You know who Vecna is?” Eddie asks, speaking for the first time. His voice is wavering a bit as he does.

“Well that’s not what me and the prisoners called him. But yeah. We were wondering why he stopped… well snapping our bones like twigs for.” He admits.

“Prisoners?” Is the question everybody all say at once. He winces as he tries to stay relaxed. He was starting to get overwhelmed. As much as it was a relief to see all of them it was getting a little to much.

“Yeah, Russians don’t take to kindly to someone ruining one of their bases.” He chuckles dryly. “Can we- um change the subject.” He winces as he moves a hand up to his head. Feeling a migraine forming. His head hasn’t been the same since he was near that radiation shit in the mall. He blinks as he feels a random nose bleed starting to hit him. Feeling dizzy Robin and Dustin hop off from him when he starts to shake more while underneath them. El moving and offering him a tissue with a knowing look. His hands shakily take the paper, confused as to why she would be looking at him like that. It was just a random nose bleed, he wouldn’t be shocked if he got radiation poison or something.

He moves back into the couch after a second of wiping his nose, completely worn out. Blinking at the effort it was taking him just to stay here mentally. His eyes meet Joyce’s who was already getting Hopper on it. “You look exhausted hon, why don’t you go get some rest in our room.” She smiles as he nods. Moving, his legs begin to shake as he holds the bloody tissue to his nose. Walking the way Hopper wanted him to.

Unaware but fully aware at the same time of the amount of eyes that were on him.

So… I only had a few scenes that I really wanted to write for this. This was one of them. The next part I also really wanted, and I don’t know how I’m separating each part. I’m used to writing 10k word chapters so this is kind of like fresh air lmao. So I’m just writing to relief some stress as I graduate in less then a week 🥳 I just didn’t expect so many people to also want to read this.

Though, I would like to say if you like the idea of Steve disappearing and coming back out of nowhere I do have another fic called Bark at the moon! (Sorry self plug) it’s on a pined post on my account and the link leads you to ao3! (It’s werewolf steve fic and he does disapear😉) ok self plug over. Thank you guys for showing so much interest! It means the world to me!

Tag list; I tagged everyone who seemed interested! Let me know If you want to be added :)

@totallynotagoraphobic @flustratedcas @shunna @spookednsaucy @steddie-as-they-go @estrellami-1 @xxbottlecapx @gregre369 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thing-a-ling @radioactiveartz @bestwifehaver @idkwwhatimmdoiing @goodolefashionedloverboi @bringmethelow @thescribblerdragon @starman-jpg @lilaclilyroses @resident-gay-bitch @wolfscreations @adhdsummer @victor-thee-corvid @happymediummm @decadentworld @sidebarre @foundintheshallows @jamieweasley13 @yellowdevilkitten @catlovesfandoms @gryffindorsareidiots @thephantomhood

[meowsforyujin]

Untitled-(pls help me name this!!) Kim Seungmin ff

Summary- you move in with your best friend Seungmin after being bullied by your roommates

Warnings-(fluff, slight angst, slight suggestive content, mentions of homophobia, mentions of anxiety, lmk if I missed anything!! )

——————————————————————

“Someones at the door!” Seungmin yelled, too busy chopping vegetables to care.

He heard Jeongin emerging from his room with a frustrated sigh, going to answer the door.

It wasn’t until Seungmin heard your voice, that he cared who was at the door.

“Is Seungmin home?” you croaked, trying your best not to sound like you had been crying. Either way, you sure looked like you’d been crying.

“Er, yeah he’s home let me go get him.” Jeongin was unsure what to say to you, but he could tell something was wrong.

The sight in front of him crushed him. Your hair in a messy low bun, a big T-shit that hung off one of your shoulders, Pj pants caught in your barley tied red chucks, and of course his favorite, your big black blue light glasses. Your eyes looked up at him big and scared, obviously puffy from crying, your bottom lip quivering slightly.

“What happened?” He breathed, looking at you with worried eyes, “Was it your roommates again?”

You slowly nodded looking down.

It was no secret your roommates didn’t like you. You were never one to hide who you were, so the bisexual flag on your wall had said. Your roommates didn’t feel comfortable with you, a bisexual person, living with them. They often bullied you, broke your stuff, and physically abused you, wanting you to leave. But you didn’t have anywhere else to go, you chose to dorm at college because your parents ,ade your life a living hell. The only person you could go to was your best friend Seungmin.

“Come inside,” he said, leading you to his room.

“I don’t want you staying there anymore,” He said, shutting door behind him.

“I don’t have a choice, I can't go back to my parents.”

“I know.” Seungmin knew ever since you were kids you dreamed of getting out, away from your family.

“Stay here.”

“What?”

“Stay here, you can stay in my room, there’s plenty of space in my closet for your stuff, and I don’t even use my desk, you can use it for work.”

“Seungmin, I don't want to take your space.”

“It’s not up for discussion, I don’t want you ever going back there. I’ll go over to your dorm and get your stuff. You’re not staying there anymore.”

Around three hours later Seungmin returned with your things in suitcases.

“What are those?” Jeongin asked almost critizingly

“Y/n was bullied again, she's staying with us now.”

“Where's she staying?”

“With me, in my room.”

“That’s a bad idea.”

“Shut up.”

It wasn’t a secret to Jeongin that Seungmin had been hopelessly in love with you since forever.

But Seungmin needed to grow up and ignore those feelings for now, he needed you to be safe.

-time skip, 3 days late-

Seungmin stood above you in dismay, not liking that you’ve been sleeping on the floor. He sighed and picked you up, placing you on his bed. He tucked you in quietly, putting some onf your stuffed animals from his closet next to you.

You didn’t expect to wake up on Seungmin’s bed, and for Seungmin to be on the floor in a sleeping bag. You were about to scold him until you looked up to see some of your posters and personal pictures on the wall, along with your flag. You kept them packed for a reason, not wanting to invade Seungmins space.

You felt like crying right then and there, he was too sweet for you. You couldn’t lie, part of the nervousness of moving in here was caused by your feelings for Seungmin, and this wasn’t helping at all. You moved to wake up Seungmin.

“Seungmin.” you mumbled, shaking him slightly to wake him up.

“Mmm what.” He groaned, not fully awake.

“Seungmin, what are you doing on the floor?” you asked with a scolding tone.

“I just didn’t want you on the floor.”

“Then get in bed with me.”

He blinked at you, taken aback.

“What? It’s a big bed, there’s no use fighting over who sleeps on the floor or not.”

“I- You’re right, Okay.”

Seungmin felt his face heat up, and he hoped to god you didn’t notice.

As he was getting up, he was shocked when you suddenly wrapped your arms tightly around him.

“Thank you for putting my stuff up, it makes me feel at home.”

He chuckled, “You ARE at home silly, this is your place now too.”

-time skip, 4 weeks later-

Living with Seungmin hadn’t gotten any easier. It was wonderful, yes. But it was so so so hard to keep your feelings to yourself. Especially when he does little things that he thinks you don’t notice.

Like when he puts his arm around you when he thinks you're sleeping, or when he’d kiss you goodnight on the forehead. You noticed all of this.

Today Seungmin invited you to go to a party with him, since you hadn’t left the house ever since you moved in with him.

“I don’t wanna go, what if my old roommates are there.”

“They won’t be, and if they are I'll be with you the whole time. No one will ever lay a finger on you again as long as I’m here.”

You immediately felt uncomfortable at the party, anxiety quickly taking you over. You didn’t want to worry Seungmin though, and you knew he’d pick up on it. So of course you decided to hide in the bathroom, a mistake.

I immediately freeze when you hear a familiar voice, “well look who it is.”

“Please, I don’t want any trouble” you felt tears well up, threatening to spill.

-time skip, like 30 min later-

You stumbled out of the bathroom in a frenzy, oblivious to the obvious stares you were getting as you mindlessly searched for the only person you could think of. Seungmin.

And it didn’t take long for him to find you, as he had been looking for you.

“Y/n! Holy fuck what happens?” He held your face between his hands looking at your bruised face.

“Seungmin, let’s just go home please.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill whoever did this to you, where are they?” He was also oblivious to the stares glued to you both.

“Please, I want to go home.” Your breathing became uneven and fast paced, tears uncontrollably falling.

In that moment he understood. You needed him right now, and he couldn’t stand to see you like this.

When you got home, your panic didn’t die down. No, it worsened. At this point you were having a full panic attack. Seungmin didn’t know what to do, all he wanted was to hold you.

So he did. He abandoned all logic and pulled you into his arms sitting on the bed. “Shhh, I’m here.” he rubbed your back with one hand, trying to calm you down. It worked like a charm, you eventually calming down and dozing off to sleep.

-morning-

You woke up on Seungmin arms, quickly recalling last nights events. Your heart melted thinking about it. You look up at Seungmin and quickly realized he wasn’t actually sleeping.

“Seungmin.” No response.

“Kim Seungmin I know you’re not sleeping.” You knew obviously when he slept he had this cute habit of his lip twitching.

“Mmm” he opened his eyes looking at you.

“Were you pretending to sleep to hold me longer?” You teased.

“Maybe.” He said bluntly, smiling.

You giggled at his words, softly hitting his chest.

“I’m sorry about last night.”

“Why what happened?” He asked. You smiled quietly to yourself. Seungmin knows in situations like this you’d rather pretend it didn’t happen.

“Thank you.” You said softly, and he just hummed, planting a kiss on your forehead.

you playfully hit him in embarrassment, which ended in a tickle fight. The room filled with both your giggles as you guys fight for dominance. (tickling)

But everything stopped when seungmin ended up hovering above you. You both froze staring at eachother. You gulped as you felt your face heat up, and slight tension in between your legs. It was embarrassing how fast something so silly aroused you, but who could blame you? He’d been hovering over you for the past 5 minutes just STARING at you with his beautiful brown eyes.

At some point he just sighed and rolled over next to you. He brushed his fingers through your hair, looking at you contently. You couldn’t read his expression. “You’re so beautiful.” you nearly choked at his words, but somehow kept your composure.

“I love you.” He said with such certainty, you didn’t expect his new confession at all.

“Wha-”

“I love you. I’ve loved you since as young as I could feel love. And I don’t expect you to feel the sa-”

You cut him off with a gentle kiss, before pulling away, “I love you too, so much. I love you so much Kim Seungmin.”

He chuckled before pulling you into his arms for a tight hug. “You're mine now, no one can even look at you.”

You laughed “I don’t think anyone can stop from looking at me.”

“Nope, no one can. You're just mine.” He said with a small grin on his face.

You giggled, burying your face into his chest, now finally being able to be open about how much you loved the smell of his cologne.

Seungmin hummed at the feeling, having you so close. He’d dreamed of this since he was way too young.

You were both brutally interrupted when Jeongin opened the door, like he had some life changing news to tell you.

“What the fuck are you guys finally dating now or what.”

“Damn right skippy now get out.” You giggled at Seungmin’s tone, slapping his chest playfully, “Skippy?” You laughed again at his choice of words.

“Whatever, congrats, just don’t fuck when I’m here okay?”

“I’ll fuck my girlfriend whenever I want.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, “Yah! Kim Seungmin!” You barely yelped, hiding your face in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry baby, I’d only fuck you when you ask me to.”

[arazialotis]

Get Him to the Con - Part 3

Pairing: Jensen × Reader

Word Count: About 3800

Summary: The reader stumbles into Jensen at her favorite bar, a very drunk Jensen. She soon realizes Jensen was booked for a con this weekend and has to be eight hours from town in only two.

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: Language

I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time as hobby. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

The night crept up on you faster than you knew, and you would either have to kick him out or call off work tomorrow. But how could you help it? There was an empty pizza box to your right and a Bowie record spinning on the entertainment stand. Both of you sat on the floor. Jensen backed up against the couch and you against the chair, your feet barely nudging against one another. You were dangerously close to playing footsie like a giddy middle schooler. If this night never ended, it would still be too soon.

“Okay, okay.” He settled a chuckle, completely oblivious to the time. “What did you want to be when you grew up?”

You scoffed. “Easy. A paleontologist.”

“Really?” He popped an eyebrow, surprised.

“Truly. Second grade. Everyone was a princess, an animal, or a ghost; I went as Alan Grant.” Jensen’s confusion was clear. “Jurassic Park!” You exclaimed.

He scoffed. “No.”

“Swear to God.” You put your hand to your heart.

Jensen threw back with laughter. “Man, I need pictures of that.”

“I’m sure my mom has them in a scrapbook somewhere.” You swirled the remaining beer in the glass before yawning.

Jensen looked at his watch. “Oh shit. I’m sorry.” He stood up. “I didn’t mean to keep you so late.”

Your heart sank, but you got up to match his stance. “Oh please, no. It was worth every minute. Like I said before, truly a dream come true.” You met his eyes and blushed, breaking away again. “Um, do you have a place to stay? I have a guest room that could be made up….”

He cut you off. “No, that’s okay. I have a room booked at the Marriott downtown.”

“Right, of course.” You tried to hide your foolishness. “That’s a really nice place. If you have time in the morning, check out the waffle place across the street. Will not disappoint. Do you need a ride?” You offered.

“No, I’ve kept you long enough. I’ll get a cab or uber this time.” He lightly chuckled. He blushed and looked down at his hand, fiddling with his thumbs. “I’d, uh, like to stay in touch, if that’s okay with you?”

“Yeah, yeah. That’d be,” You tried to contain your composure and settled on a word. “Cool.”

“Awesome.” His smile beamed. “Let’s do this again sometime.”

*** Three Months Later ***

Jensen stayed true to his word. The two of you occasionally chatted on the phone but mostly texted. Afraid to take advantage or worse, afraid to come off as annoying, you mainly waited for him to initiate the conversation. But every time you saw his name come across your screen, your heart raced and fluttered, and you couldn’t deny you longed to see him again.

Your phone chimed, and your toes curled with excitement seeing his message. ‘You free to talk.’

You stepped away from your desk, popping your head up above the cubicle wall, and looked both ways for lurking supervisors. You shot him back a quick ‘yes’ before sneaking away to find an empty office. His call came through as soon as you shut the door behind you.

Your heart fluttered. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Y/N. Hey, morning. Or is it afternoon? I can never keep track of the time difference.” He mumbled as you chuckled. “Anyways, how are you?”

“Oh, pretty much the same. Waiting for that clock to strike five so I can get outta here.”

“Right? My day’s just begun, and it’s already dragging.” His voice matched your sentiment.

“You filming?” You asked.

He yawned. “Yeah, eventually. In costume and makeup, but apparently, there is a lighting issue, so just running over some lines until it gets sorted out.”

“Hopefully, they figure it out soon, so you don’t have to pull another all-nighter this week.”

He scoffed. “Man, I hope not.” There was a brief silence. “So, I was thinking….” He paused.

“Yes?” You urged him to continue.

“Well.” He sighed, almost as if he was afraid to continue. “I have a proposition.” Silence again.

“What?” You tensed with anticipation. “What is it?”

“Okay, this might be totally crazy, and I understand if you can’t cause its last minute. But I was, uh, thinking, what if we redid our trip?” Jensen nervously stumbled through the proposal.

Your mind froze, unable to comprehend. “Uh… trip?”

“Yeah. You know, like the road trip to the convention. But we’ll plan it out this time, and I’ll be sober.” He softly laughed. “There’s one in Denver just over two weeks.”

You had trouble finding the words. “You want to drive together. To Denver?”

“Yeah!” He exclaimed. “I just got my schedule and have a few days off beforehand and was thinking it would be fun to redo our adventure but where I actually remember most of it.”

“You want to go on a road trip? To Denver? With me?” You couldn’t believe it. He had to have lost a bet.

He mistook your confusion for disinterest. “Yeah. I mean, if you can’t get off work or don’t want to, I understand….”

“No!” You interrupted. “I… I’m just a little shocked, but I’d love to!”

Jensen softly chuckled. “Awesome. I will be out to pick you up next Thursday. That way, we can split the journey into two nights and arrive by Saturday evening.”

You were still breathless, trying to comprehend this reality. “Yeah, okay. How can I help plan?”

“Hmm.” He thought about it for a second. “How about you handle the snacks and get a good playlist or podcast going, and I’ll have the rest taken care of.”

After the call, you held your phone to your heart, not entirely believing your reality, trying to piece together what would have prompted such an outlandish suggestion from him. Regardless of the questions swimming in your head, it would be impossible to focus on anything other than next Thursday.

Jensen ended the call with a beaming smile on his face. He had been dying to see you again and couldn't think of a better way to get to know you more. Over the phone was one thing, and you stayed friends, but perhaps this trip together could further the relationship and open up the possibility of something more. He sat down from his pacing, waiting for the lighting issue to resolve itself.

His co-star was not as enthused. As soon as the call ended, he abruptly dropped the script he was pretending to read as he shamelessly eavesdropped. He leaned over the side of his chair.

"Are you out of your mind?" Jared said in a low whisper.

Jensen brushed his knuckles against his lips, lost in thought, before realizing Jared had asked him a question. "What?" Only then did the words process, and he understood what had been said.

"She's a fan." Jared shifted, hoping to keep this conversation as private as possible for Jensen's sake.

"She's a friend." Jensen corrected.

Jared could barely keep from rolling his eyes. "Someone you've known for less than three months and only have met twice." He attempted to make his friend see reason. "And one of those times doesn't even count because you were blackout drunk."

Jensen's eyes narrowed. "I remember what happened." Most of it, he added only in his thoughts.

"That doesn't change the fact that you don't know anything about her." He said through gritted teeth. Jared was attempting to remain calm, to let his frustration not show, yet the very person he was trying to look out for was making that difficult.

"I know a lot about her. I know that she is loyal. I know she is selfless for not only saving my ass but the entire convention and asking for nothing in return. I know that she is honest. I know she has never once taken advantage of me or my status. Though she very well could have. Hell, I think she goes out of her way to ensure she doesn't." He paused. "Most importantly, I know how I feel about her."

Jared leaned back and scoffed. "How you feel about her?" His eyebrows raised. The inflection in his voice conveyed everything he thought about such a ridiculous notion.

"Don't look at me like that," Jensen said.

"Like what? I'm not…." Jared started.

"Like a condescending asshole. I know what I'm doing."

"I don't think you do; you've been spiraling downward ever since Elena. I thought things were finally starting to look up. That is until you lost all sense of rationality…."

Jensen stood up and threw the unreviewed script in the chair. He was close to finished with this conversation. "I hit rock bottom three months ago, and Y/N pulled me out. I'm finally feeling like myself again after everything Elena put me through. Y/N's a big part of that. I know… I know you're just trying to look out for me, but once you meet her in Denver, I know you'll come around."

Jared crossed his arms, unconvinced. "If she takes one out of Stephen King's playbook and Misery's your ass, I'm not coming to save you."

Jensen's mouth hung in a horrified expression. "Thank you so much for putting that in my head."

He turned to leave, hopeful of getting an update on the lighting situation and if they'd be out before 3 AM this time.

"Was it enough to kick some sense into you?" Jared called with a smile.

Jensen shook his head but didn't look back, pressing forward. "Not in the slightest."

***

Once Thursday rolled around, you quickly learned that Jensen did not have the rest of the details taken care of. Late morning rolled, and he had texted you he was on his way from the car rental. You waited anxiously on the brick stoop with your suitcase and a snack basket ready to go. He soon pulled up your drive in the newest model Chevy Impala, painted black, of course. He stepped out of the car, sunglasses already in place, and flashed you a wide grin. You tried your best not to be starstruck, but you couldn’t quite come to terms with the fact that this was happening. Sure, you talked occasionally, but it wasn’t like the two of you were on best friend/traveling buddy status.

“This is insane.” You muttered under your breath before matching his cheery expression.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed your name with arms open wide.

You met his embrace and squealed when he picked you up and spun you around.

“Ah! It has been too long.” You remarked once back on your feet. “How are you?” You squeezed his shoulders and then grew embarrassed from the contact. You withdrew your hands immediately and smoothed down your shirt.

“So much better now, you have no idea. A long weekend with nothing but driving is exactly what I need.” He beamed. “You good? You look good.” Jensen smirked.

You nervously laughed. “I’ve been good, but I'm glad you called; I've needed a break myself. Looks like you upgraded?” You pointed towards the Impala.

“Oh, not at all.” Jensen feigned heartbreak. “Nothing will ever be as good as baby, but the studio would never let me take her, so this is the second-best.”

“Well, I, for one, will appreciate the Bluetooth connection and modern AC.” You teased.

“That’s fair.” He agreed with your analyses. “Though I still think it’d be fun to get a ‘67 out on the road someday. Got everything you need?” He gestured towards the suitcase.

“And more. I’m a chronic over-packer. Never know what situation will arise or when you might need fifteen pairs of underwear for a long weekend.” You blushed when he chuckled. “Let’s get this show on the road before I divulge any more embarrassing tidbits.”

Jensen went for your suitcase. “I’d very much like to hear more embarrassing tidbits.”

You followed along with the snacks in tow as he brought your luggage to the trunk. “Seeing as we have a few days together, I’m sure you will be privy to several.”

As he put the suitcase in the trunk, you stuffed the snacks in the back seat within easy-reaching distance.

“Whose taking first shift?” You asked. “I’m happy to drive; you’ve probably been traveling quite a bit already.”

He swung around to the front. “I still got plenty of energy in me.” He flipped the keys once in his hand before settling in and starting the engine.

You slid into the passenger seat and got adjusted. “In that case, I’ll navigate.”

He put the car in gear, braced his arm on the passenger seat to get a good view out the window despite the rearview camera, and backed out of the driveway. You took a deep breath and tried to focus on anything but the flexing arm so close to you. Loose bits of gravel crunched underneath the weight of the tires.

“Just gotta head west, I assume.” He said once out on the road.

“Roughly, I guess.” When he didn’t elaborate further, you attempted to clarify. “Is there a hotel address for our first stop I can plug in?”

“Oh, not at all.”

He lifted his hand off the top of the steering wheel to check his speed as your heart beat a little faster, trying to understand what he meant.

“Thought it would be fun to do things the Winchester way.” He looked at you and grinned brightly.

“The.. . the Winchester way?” You tried to envision Sam and Dean driving down the road but came up blank, feeling like you missed out on an inside joke or something.

“Yeah, just driving ‘til we reach our destination and figuring out details along the way.” He explained. “Course with us; if we see something we want to stop at, we’ll stop, and maybe once we are ready for dinner, we can find a local motel or something. An old school single-level building, doors straight out to the parking lot, no vacancy signs.”

Your eyes went wide with panic, but you tried to contain it. “So just to confirm, when you said you’d figure out the details, the plan was to have no plan.”

“Yeah, I mean, I got the flight here and the car, but I was thinking how fun it would be for some spontaneity. See where the road takes us. And uh, based on what happens, I could channel the experience for some character inspiration.” After pulling up the ramp onto the highway, he looked you up and down, and realization dawned on him. “Oh god. You hate it, don’t you?”

“No. It’s great,” Your voice cracked. “If you’re into bed bugs and Norman Bates.” You mumbled the last part, but he still caught it.

Jensen chuckled. “If you hate it that much. We should have no trouble reaching Des Moines today. You can call and reserve us a spot at a Hilton or something.”

You took a long breath in. “No. It’ll be fine.” You weren’t sure if you were convincing him or yourself. “Spontaneity, as you said. I can be spontaneous.”

He bit his lip. “Are you sure about that?” He teased.

You shot him a deadpan look as has he changed lanes to pass a semi. “Driving strangers to Tennessee on a whim. Not spontaneous at all.”

He raised a free hand in surrender. “Fair. Fair.” He agreed.

After a few moments, you broke the silence. “So what are we listening to?”

“Oh, I don’t care. You pick.” He offered.

You smiled, setting up the Bluetooth. “That is not the Winchester way.” He glanced at you, confused. “Driver..”

It hit him, and he joined you in saying, “Picks the music, shotgun shuts their cakehole.”

“Uhhh…” He racked his brain. “TV Girl.” He finally settled on a band.

You brought it up on Spotify, starting with their first album. And let the music settle in. “Interesting. Not what I expected.”

“And what were you expecting? Despite mine and Dean’s persona, it's not country and rock n’ roll 24/7.”

“Blasphemy.” You interjected.

Jensen chuckled. “I change up my listening patterns quite a bit to help stay sane. But don’t look so distraught; plenty of Zeppelin will come.”

You passed the time with ease, conversing with things like books, shows, hobbies, work, and family. Though you were glad Jensen was in a better place than when you first journeyed with him, you could tell this time around he had a better filter in terms of disclosing too much personal information or continuous flirting.

“So, uh, what did you tell your friends and family about this trip?” Subtly Jensen was hoping you’d divulge what you’ve shared about him to those closest to you.

“That I got the spontaneous urge to go hiking.”

Jensen shook his head, pressing his lips together containing a grin, knowing you were still salty about his earlier comment. “Were they shocked 'cause that’s so unlike you?” He teased.

You nudged him with your elbow, and the car swerved slightly in response, but he only chuckled.

“They were excited that I was braving out on an adventure on my own, trying new things, and hopeful that a handsome man would save me when I inevitably twist my ankle miles into the trek.” You defended, trying to morph their initial concern and worry into something positive. “Sometimes it is hard being single when everyone around has their somebody.”

He nodded his agreement and understanding.

“Sometimes it makes life more exciting too.” You added, knowing you would never have stumbled across this opportunity if you had been tied down.

Jensen wrung the steering wheel in his hand, lost in his thoughts. It seemed everyone around him had already found their someone, while he jumped from one relationship to the next. He thought he had found the one with Elena, but as soon as that dick with bigger star power swept her up, he quickly realized she was using him to get ahead and make a name for herself.

He cleared his throat, breaking the thought. “So you didn’t tell them you were already traveling with a handsome guy who will be sure to save you if anything should arise?”

“No, no, no. That would have brought about way too many questions.” You were horrified at the thought of explaining it all to them and breaking Jensen’s privacy.

“Do they know about us at all?” He asked, and you gulped, the phrasing as if you were in a relationship.

You stretched out the words, uncomfortable with how many truths you had skirted around them. “They know there’s a guy I occasionally talk to, but nothing serious or details or anything like that.”

Jensen huffed out a laugh. “Just so you are aware, that could quickly change if we are spotted together. I try to keep a private life, but it's not always guaranteed. You might want to consider if they’ll take it better finding out from Instagram or directly from you. Coming from you would also give you a chance to dispel potential rumors or gossip.”

“Yeah.” You thoughtfully considered. “I guess being spotted together is such a slight chance, and if it did happen, it would just give us more time before I turn into another leech asking you for favors cause this person will want an autograph, and this person will want a meet you.” You raised your hands and shook them, exasperated. “Ah! This dynamic between us sucks.”

“Hey,” It was his turn to nudge you. Not teasingly but meant as encouragement. “It’s not that bad, I promise. It’s part of the job that I’m used to. And leech? That’s a pretty harsh word. I think I’d recognized if you were a leech by now.”

You laughed defeatedly. “Leech was one of the kinder words you used to describe everyone around you last time we were in a car together. And you were inclined to be more honest in that conversation.”

He sighed and thought about it as he passed another string of cars. The yellow fields around you broke way into a dense forest and then back again.

“I was in a bad place, Y/N.” As if driven by instinct, he reached over, about to nestle his hand on your thigh but caught himself. He placed it on the gear stick instead. “I don’t know what I told you or what you already know, but I had recently been dumped. I thought Elena was the one. Even went out looking at rings once. But she told me she wanted to be in the movies and that I didn’t have the talent or status to get her there. And so she found someone else who did. That, combined with The Family Business, conventions, and everything else, I let the stress win. I’m in a much better place now and would never think that of you.”

Though you were grateful he was being open with you, you still found it hard to buy. “Your rational mind says that, but in your subconscious….” A loud gurgle cut you off.

Jensen laughed as another rumble, even louder than the last, practically echoed through the car. He was relieved that the serious tone had been interrupted.

“Good to know. You get hangry.” He concluded.

“You have to be angry to be hangry.” You corrected.

“Well, hangry is a lot easier than combining hungry and despairingly pessimistic.” He joked.

“I’m not that hungry.” You tried to defend until your stomach betrayed you again.

He tried and failed to hold in another chuckle. “Well, I am. So let’s put all those snacks you brought to use.”

You caved easily. “Fine. What do you want?”

You turned around in your seat to start fishing.

“Whatever you're having. Just to tide us over until we can find a decent spot for lunch.”

“Fuck.” You cursed. The basket had slid to the driver’s side at some point during the trip. “Hold on a second.”

You unbuckled, causing an annoying beeping to start sounding as you crawled over the console, half of you in the back, and your ass, unbeknownst to you, at an optimal angle for Jensen’s viewing. As you reached for the basket and sorted through the choices, Jensen did his best to keep his eyes on the road. He failed when he caught a glance in the rearview mirror and automatically turned over his shoulder for a better view.

Quickly he snapped his attention back to the road, then looked up as if there was a god in heaven that could deliver him. He licked his bottom lip and pressed them together, unsure if he wanted to be saved.

Shuffling, you returned up and clicked the seatbelt into place.

“Sorry about that.” You said, completely unaware of his dilemma. “Cheezits or granola bar?”

His mind was still elsewhere. “Yeah, um, sure.”

“Course there’s more back there those don’t satisfy.” You offered, your mood already lightened with food in hand.

“No, no.” He objected. “A granola bar sounds great.”

You unwrapped the top half and handed it to him.

“Thanks.” He said before taking another slide glance at you.

His heart pounded against his chest, like a caged bird flapping its wings. He chuckled to himself once more before taking a bite. A blood-sucking parasite was the farthest thing from his mind when thinking about you, subconscious or otherwise. He desperately hoped he had the strength not to fuck this up. TV Girl was still playing in the background. The track Every Stupid Actress came on, and despite the chill vibes, he loathed the lyrics.

"It's time for Zeppelin." He announced.

"Finally!" You exclaimed, shifting focus from snacks to changing tracks.

---

Part 4

[killiansprincss]

TIMELESS - A CS AU CHAPTER 7

Summary: Season 3 divergence - When Zelenas time portal works, Henry wakes up alone in Storybrooke and must travel to the Enchanted Forest to get his family back. Only once he gets there he quickly realises its not like the one in his book, theres no Evil Queen and his mother Emma wasn't put through a wardrobe, theres even a poster inviting the entire kingdom to her engagement ball, to Hook. What will happen once Henry gets them to break this new curse and they get their memories back?

In which every chapter is inspired by a different Taylor Swift song.

Previous Chapters

AO3 Link

This fic has meant to much to me seeing people read it and love it fills me with an insane amount of joy so please enjoy this next chapter ! My favourite chapters are yet to come to enjoy the ride :)

CHAPTER 7 - PAPER RINGS

like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

Uh huh, that's right

Darling, you're the one I want, 

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Uh huh, that's right

Darling, you're the one I want

In paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams

Oh, you're the one I want

“I can’t believe we’re really doing this.” Snow tells her soon to be husband as she walks down the makeshift aisle at the back of the farm. Their wedding day was finally here, and while it wasn’t the wedding Snow had always pictured for herself, she was excited.

Johanna was taking the place of her father walking her down the aisle, and Snow was happy about that-Johanna had been like a second mother to her growing up, she knew her better than her parents sometimes. 

Lancelot, a former guard who served Snow's father was officiating the wedding, he sympathised with Snow's story, not being able to marry who she loved. 

“We are here today to celebrate the union of these two people who love each other and have chosen to spend the rest of their lives together..”

It was a small wedding, just Johanna and David’s mother, Ruth, were in attendance, and to have it at the farm was perfect, it was the place the two met and fell in love. Snow's parents didn’t know, they were away on a trip to another kingdom, so they would come back and find their daughter gone. Snow would miss them, but she had to do this.

When it was time for the vows, the couple tried their hardest not to cry.

“Snow, we stand here together at the same place we met all those years ago. You came into my life that day and I was unsure what it meant, but it changed my life forever. Fifteen years ago I gained a best friend and today you stand here the love of my life and soon to be my wife. I know I don’t come from much and can’t offer you the life of riches and luxury you’re used to, and I don’t know what the future holds for us, but as long as we’re together I don’t care.” 

“David, the day I met you, I was bored and lonely so I took meeting you as a sign my life was going to become a whole lot more interesting. I kept thinking how lucky I was to have a friend at last, but I never expected to be standing here today fifteen years later about to marry you. You’re still my best friend in, but you’re also so much more, I love you so much and I don’t want to imagine what life looks like without you. I don’t care that I’ll be leaving behind, none of that matters if I don’t have you.” 

“That was beautiful.” Lancelot smiles at the happy couple. “Now, David, do you take Snow to be your wife? For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, from this day on?”

David smiles. “I do.”

“And Snow, do you take David to be your husband? For richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, from this day on?”

“I do.” Snow says beaming. 

“It is with my greatest pride, that I now pronounce you, Husband and Wife. You may kiss the bride.” Lancelot announces to the small crowd who  begin to cheer as the happy couple kiss for the first time as a married couple. 

____

Snow and Charming travel for a day without stopping until they reach their new home. Ruth had sold the farm, and was relocating a half a day away, a retirement if you would. It was also a sacrifice so that when the King and Queen returned to find their daughter missing, they wouldn’t find anyone with answers on her whereabouts at the Farm. 

“Are you truly happy? I know you’re giving up a lot to be with me and I-“

Snow cuts off her husband, “David, stop. I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you now, my life isn’t worth living if I don’t have you. I will happily be poor, because you know what makes you feel rich? Being with the one you love, the thoughts of making a home with you and starting a family. That is the greatest treasure I could ever want.” 

She meant every word of it. No longer was she Princess Snow of Misthaven, she was a commoner, a shepherd's wife. And she didn’t care. They would find happiness wherever they lived and wherever they worked. As long as they were together.

—-

2 years pass by in an instant and Snow and David have adapted to their new life. They managed to secure a quaint cottage in the middle of the village far from their home kingdom and they had tried their best to make it as homely as possible.

 David had managed to find a job that paid good money working with animals on a much larger farm than he grew up on. Snow was currently a housekeeper, it didn’t pay as much however it was better than the three shifts at the tavern she worked at when they first arrived. Drunk men with their hands roaming everywhere was not something any woman should have to deal with.

“Charming.” Snow calls out to her husband one morning. “I have something to tell you.”

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

Snow looks tense, she’s nervous. “I’m pregnant.” 

David’s eyes light up and his smile grows wide. “That’s amazing!” He notices his wife's nerves, “Isn’t it?”

“It’s wonderful, but I’m worried.” She admits. Snow was normally positive and saw the good in everything, but this news had startled her nerves. “I’m worried because how are we going to look after this baby? We can barely afford to feed ourselves and who will look after him or her?” 

David wraps his arms around his wife and puts his hand on the back of her head, something that always soothes her. “We will figure it out okay? Even if I have to take on another job to help, we will be fine.”

“We’re gonna be parents.” Snow says holding back her tears, as if realisation finally hits and she understands what it means. 

They had not been trying for a family just yet, ideally they wanted to be a little more stable and secure. But this news was exciting, they were going to have a child, one that was a perfect mix of the two of them. Snow had a feeling it was a girl, but didn’t want to say. 

David does exactly what he says and manages to get another job, working as a barman in the local tavern. It was long hours, but the extra pay was really good and it meant they could afford food that was meant to be good for an expectant mother, and herbs for a Tea a local healer recommended. 

David came home exhausted at night and was up early to feed the chickens, and Snow could see it was hurting him, but he did it out of love. 

“I was thinking.” She tells him one night when David comes home early for once. 

“Go on.” He says, preparing his supper.

“I wrote a letter to your mother.” Snow can see the confusion in her husband's eyes as he tried to figure out where this was going. “I was thinking, maybe we could relocate to the village she lives. She says there’s a lot of people willing to help us, she obviously didn’t tell them of my former position. Imagine how great it’ll be when she’s born and your mother will be able to help us out.”

“Are you sure? I know it’s not too far from…” David doesn’t need to finish his sentence.

“I’m aware. But it’s been 2 years, they won’t find us. And if they do, there isn’t much they can do. What do you think?”

David kisses his wife and puts a protective hand on her growing stomach. “I love it. Except, we’re having a boy, I’m sure of it.” 

____

They depart early the next morning, it takes just over a day's walk to reach their new home, and they were prepared to walk as far as they could without stopping until nightfall, but also cautious of Snow's condition. 

They reached their destination 2 days later, having stopped at a tavern for the night to rest and were back on the road as early as they could be. 

“Hi there! You must be David and Mary!” A girl around Snow's age greets them. They had decided to use a pseudonym, being so close to her former home, it wasn’t worth the risk. “How was your journey? I hope it was not too long! We have a room set up for you, Granny said it’s the best and I have to agree! Oh where are my manners? I am so sorry, my name is Red!” Red could be best described as an excitable puppy dog, she was sweet though.

“It’s nice to meet you Red. Does your family own the inn?” David asks as Red shows them inside.

“It’s just me and my Granny, this inn has been in our family for generations. Here we are, this is your room, you can stay for as long as you need until you find a place.” Red shows them into their room, and it’s far better than the inn they stayed in on the road, lush carpets and curtains they hadn’t seen since the Palace. 

Ruth had recommended they stay there for a week while they figured out a new home. This place was much nicer than the tiny village they had been in for 2 years, it was a buzzing town with stores selling everything and a community of people willing to help. Already Snow could tell it would be the perfect place to raise their daughter. 

~~

6 months later and a beautiful baby girl is born.

“Hi Emma.” Snow says to the bundle of joy in her arms, she was perfect, and she was theirs. 

“She’s beautiful, just like her mother.” David says to his wife with a kiss to both their heads. It had been a long labour but he was by her side through every moment of it. 

“Say hi to Grandma, Emma!” David whispers as he hands his daughter to his mother. 

Snow and David had stayed in Reds and Granny’s inn for less than a week before they found a place just a five minute walk from David’s mother. It was perfect and they were so happy. 

“Aunty Red is here and she comes bearing gifts!” Red arrives in her signature red cloak with a basket full of treats for both mother and baby. ‘Mary’ and Red had become friends pretty quickly, and Snow realised that aside from David, this was her first real friend, which is why it wasn’t hard to choose her as godmother.

“Red you’ve done enough really!” Snow tells her, opening the basket to find baby clothes along with freshly baked pastries.

“Nonsense Mary! Granny’s sentimental so she kept all my baby clothes, and now little Emma can wear them.”

Snow can’t help but smile and just accept her friend's kindness.

They didn’t have much money, and their house didn’t have turrets or anything grand like that, but they had each other and a daughter which is all they needed to be happy.

___

“Emma!” David calls out to his 5 year old daughter, “Supper is ready.”

With her two blonde pigtails, Emma comes bouncing over. “Pappa, can my new friend stay for supper?” 

A little boy no older than 7 comes out from behind the tree, only he’s not a regular little boy. David had heard of the puppet who came to life with magic, the whole village did. His father was a carpenter who couldn’t have kids so he made one out of the finest wood he could find and wished to the Blue Fairy for him to come alive. 

“Hello, my name is Pinocchio!” The wooden boy says shyly. 

David gives the boy a smile, “well Pinocchio, do you like stew?” Sure he was different from the other kids, but he didn’t want to make the kid any more isolated than he already was. He was proud of Emma.

____

“David.” Snow wasn’t too sure how to tell her husband her latest news, it was amazing but there was a part of her that was also terrified.

“What’s wrong? Is Emma sick again?” Emma has just recovered from a nasty bug and she was finally on the mend.

“No. No, Emma is fine!” Snow tells her husband, and she can’t help but smile, “I’m pregnant.”

David’s eyes go wide. He couldn’t believe it was finally happening again. “How-I mean are they healthy? Have you seen a healer yet?” 

Snow cuts her husband's worries off with a kiss. “I’m fine, the baby is fine. I think I’m about 4 months, which is further than I’ve been since Emma. I have a really good feeling about this little one.”

In the years since having Emma, they had both wished for another child, but a few times Snow was lucky enough to fall pregnant, it had only been a few weeks until fate was cruel and the chance to be parents to 2 children was taken away from them.

They were nervous to tell Emma, for 9 years she was an only child, and she was a pretty demanding one. They liked to spoil their only daughter, their only child, and now what was she going to say to having a new baby brother or sister around?

“I’m gonna be a big sister?” She actually takes it surprisingly well. “So I can teach my little sister everything and tell her secrets and be my best friend?”

David smiles at his daughter, “Yes to all, except it might be a little brother.”

Emm turns her nose up at this, not fond of the idea.

Soon ‘Mary’ begins to show, and Red with her eagerness to know everything immediately questions her best friend. “How far along”

“Around 4 and a half months,”

“And may I ask why you did not tell me?” 

“Because this is the furthest along I’ve been since Emma, and I didn’t want to jinx anything.” Mary whispers to her best friend, she never told Red about her miscarriages, felt like it was her own burden, but in retrospect telling someone may have made it easier, even if Red didn’t know the entire truth about her life and history.

Red just pulls her friend into a hug. She wasn’t angry. “Come back to Granny’s and I can make you some tea, the same one we gave you when you were pregnant with Emma.” 

As she starts showing, they feel happy telling people. Emma is more than happy to share the news that she’s going to be a big sister. They let her do the honours of telling Grandma Ruth. 

“Oh Emma, that's wonderful news. Son I’m so happy for you both, you deserve happiness and I’m glad you got it.”

[midwestmade29]

A Labor of Love Part 2 💕

Part 2 was so fun to write! It’s a little lengthy, I just couldn’t help myself! 🫣

I don’t really have any disclaimers for part 2. It covers life after having a baby and a small amount of postpartum recovery, but that’s about it. Read at your own discretion.

Word count: 1,538

Divider is from @saradika

GIF is by @cowboyshit

Make sure you read part 1 before continuing 🙂

“The days are long, but the years are short...”

“I can’t believe she’s been here 3 weeks already…” I whispered to Christian as I scrolled through pictures of her on my phone. The 3 of us were laying in our bed, getting ready to sleep, but when I didn’t get a response, I glanced over at Christian and realized he had already dozed off. My heart nearly exploded when I saw our precious baby girl snoozing away on her daddy’s chest, I couldn’t help but to stare in awe. We were both exhausted from the drastic change in our sleep schedules, but this little lady was worth it. Fatherhood looked good on Christian. It suited him. I made sure to take a few pictures of this precious moment before scooting closer to Christian and gently kissing him on the cheek. I nuzzled my face against his arm, just watching the two of them sleep. If I could keep the 3 of us in this bubble of newborn bliss forever, I probably would. Christian started to come to and smiled at me when he caught me staring. “How long was I out?” he asked. “Not too long. You both looked so peaceful, I hated to wake you. Are you going to let me put her in the bassinet now?” “5 more minutes…10 tops.” Christian insisted. How could I say no to that?

Recovery after giving birth is not easy or glamours. It’s painful, emotionally taxing, things are squishy, and your body is continuously trying to get back to (a new) normal. Some days it’s like riding a roller coaster with all the highs and lows of recovery and being new parents. 6 weeks into parenthood, Christian and I run like a well-oiled machine. Teamwork makes the dream work, right? He’s been incredible caring for me and our little lady, showing us patience and love at every turn. Even though he won’t admit it, I know he’s been itching to be involved with AEW again. Christian wouldn’t trade these moments with his girls for anything, but I know working from home over FaceTime and phone calls/texts is making him a little stir crazy. I got our daughter situated in her stroller, all ready for a walk around the neighborhood while Christian was in his office on a video call with Tony Kahn discussing details about his return to AEW that was rapidly approaching in 2 weeks. I popped my head in the door to let him know we were on our way out when Christian held up one finger. He let Tony finish what he was saying before letting him know that they would have to continue their conversation later. “I’ll think about your ideas and get back with you to finalize everything. Thanks Tony.” He closed his laptop and directed his full attention to me. “Ready?” he asked with a smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your chat with Tony. I just wanted to let you know I was headed out for a walk. Why don’t you call him back?” “Y/N, Tony can wait. My girls come first, always. I’ll fill you in on everything we talked about later. Right now, I just want to enjoy time with you two. Why don’t we play rock/paper/scissors before we leave?” “What for?” I asked, confused. “Best 2 out of 3 is the winner and they get to push the stroller!”

8 weeks had come and gone in the blink of an eye! Our baby girl was now 2 months old, which meant it was time for Christian to return to work. We placed our bags in the car before making our way to the airport for our next adventure as a family of 3. It was obvious that we were both nervous about taking our little lady on her first airplane ride, amongst other things. “Are you sure you grabbed everything? Her favorite pacifier and purple blanket? What about enough diapers? Noise cancelling headphones?” Christian babbled on. I smiled at his concern before grabbing his hand and kissing his knuckles. “Check, check, and check. I’m positive we have everything we need baby. Even if we did forget something, I can get it from a nearby store or something. We’ll be fine.” I reassured him, but Christian still looked apprehensive. “It’s too soon for this, Y/N!” he said exasperated. “Too soon for what, Christian?” “I can call Tony right now and let him know that I can’t make it to Dynamite tomorrow. He’ll understand! They can scrap my appearance and add someone else! I don’t think I can do this, Y/N. Leaving you two is going to be harder than I thought…” “Whoa! Take a deep breath, Christian! Everything is going to be just fine and will fall into place! It might take some time to adjust to a new routine with you being on the road again, but we will make it work. We are traveling with you this time and will travel with you when we can in the future as well. You and I knew this day was going to come, and now that it’s here we have to embrace it. We’re in this together, every step of the way.” When my words sank in, you could see Christian visibly relax a little. “You’re right, Y/N. Just promise me when you two aren’t traveling with me that you’ll spam me with pictures and FaceTime calls?”

Dynamite day was here and in full swing! We arrived at the arena earlier this afternoon so Christian could get settled in and get everything for tonight squared away. Everyone that passed us by had to stop and meet our newest addition, and we both loved showing her off. “Welcome back man!” Tony said excitedly. “It’s great to finally meet the little one. She’s changed so much from the last picture you sent me! How are you doing Y/N?” “I swear she changes by the minute!” Christian interjected, causing Tony and I to chuckle. “I’m doing well Tony, thanks for asking. It’s good to see you!” Christian and Tony got lost in conversation, and the little lady started to fuss so I excused myself to our dressing room. I was sitting on the couch feeding her when Christian walked in. “Everything okay?” he asked. “Yeah, she was just getting hungry but we’re all good now.” I smiled. “It’s about time for you to get ready, isn’t it?” “I guess I probably should.” Christian sighed. “The fans will be excited to have you back. The night will be over before you know it, so please try to enjoy it all. She’ll be cheering her Daddy on from ringside and so will I.”

I was so excited that I was able to keep my surprise for Christian a secret this whole time, even when there was a close call when I had him get something out of the baby’s overnight bag. She looked so cute in her outfit I had put together specially for tonight! I could hardly wait for Christian to see it. I was escorted to my ringside seat during the commercial break right before Christian was scheduled to come out, baby girl sleeping peacefully in my arms with her noise cancelling headphones on. Security stayed close by the two of us to ensure our safety since she was so little, and I know having them around made Christian and I both feel better about me being there. Justin Roberts let the crowd know that we would be live on air again in less than 30 seconds which caused butterflies to flutter in my stomach big time. I just hoped that Christian was doing okay! The lights in the arena dimmed once we were live, and Christian’s music began to play causing the crowd to go wild. My face lit up the further he got down the ramp, my heart bursting with pride. Christian walked over to where I was standing, cameras surrounding us as he gave me a kiss. He placed his hand on our daughter’s head before leaning down and kissing her forehead, causing most of the crowd to “aww” in unison. As he was standing back upright, he noticed the surprise his little girl was wearing and started to smile and laugh. Of course, the camera had to get a close up of her, showing the crowd and the fans watching at home the tiny little turtleneck she was wearing, just like her Daddy was. Even though we were surrounded by thousands of people, it felt like it was just the 3 of us standing together enjoying this special moment. “Did you read it?” I shouted over the noise, pointing at the baby’s turtleneck. Christian mouthed the words, “My Daddy is Father of the Year” which made the both of us laugh even harder. “This is perfect, Y/N. I love you two, so much! I guess I better go conduct my business now…” he yelled before winking at me and making his way to the ring.

Just when I thought I couldn’t love Christian any more than I already did, I watched him become a dad. This surely is what dreams are made of 🩷

[darklordofthesimp]

I’m the anon for the vacation ask, get in losers we’re going to the Bahamas

Listen, it’s time for everybody to get some therapy, especially my girl Bridy 😔✋

Bear with me, I’m not the best with words. I’m just slapping my thought one this interaction but I do like writing so any criticism is welcome <3 just don’t be mean about it cause I will cry

This is all before she says fuck it and decided to transfer, before she realizes that she will never be the same Birdy again, when she wants everything to go back to how things were before and all that jazz ✨

Ngl I think Birdy would want to go to therapy. I imagine she still tries to listen to that small logical side of her brain that is trying to hard to get her attention but is overshadowed by the trauma thats deeply rooted into it.

Plus side is that is limits her time to be anywhere near Köing (don’t worry, we may get to him later on)

But of course, that’s not how therapy works exactly

And that bitch is screaming at her to go to fucking therapy, get this shit fixed so she can go back to her old self.

The first session is going smoothly, after introductions it what pretty easy taking to them

The therapist, after seeing Birdy a bit reluctant, decided to share a bit about themselves.

Birdy learns that they have a wife and two children. After giving Birdy a picture of the family to look at, they ask Birdy about hers. (Idk Birdy’s family situation so we’re going to assume their dead for ✨plot✨)

“Do you ever want a family of your own?”

A snark escapes from Birdys mouth. In her line of work, she’d be luck to make it to her golden years (her luck is shit anyways)

I mean, yeah she thought of it. Dreamed of it in fact, but it’s a dream.

The therapist sees Birdy space out, so they decided to lead the conversation back to childhood memories.

(Again, idk Bridys backstory, if there’s one someone direct to to the right direction and I’ll revision this 👌)

Birdy told the therapist about her father serving in the military and he would be constantly deployed, so when she was back, she and her other three siblings would constantly fight over his attention. Being second to last, you would think that she would hardly be noticed

But her most fond memories at the times that she and her father would frequently go to the lake for fishing. And, maybe it because two of her siblings didn’t even know how to to swim properly, or that she was just a bit stronger then her brother and was able to pull bigger fishes then her and got all pissy about it so stop coming to the fishing trips altogether.

But that was basically her daddy-daughter time with him, it was really, really special to her

With happy memories of her father in her mind, she was going to continue with more stories when the therapist watched dinged, didn’t it dinged a bit ago

“That was really good, I’m happy we got really far in the first session”

What?

“I’m glad to hear good memories with your family.”

Huh?

“Maybe next time we can go over your relationships with your-“

“That’s it?”

“Yes, unfortunately we need to stop it right here for today. We actually went about an half hour over…..”

That’s it? You have to wait another week to talk to them again, to get this shit fixed? To get yourself fixed

It can’t be, you spend more time with the monster more then with this therapist.

Fuck- you spent precious time talking about dead people then what’s actually going on, you made absolutely zero progress-

You felt a something come to up you shoulder, and thanks to you military training coughtraumacoughalmostdyingcough you quickly grabbed their wrist in a attempt to subdue them. Thankful your sense comes back before you put them in a headlock.

But you don’t let go

“No no, it can’t be over. We didn’t even do ANYTHING?!”

The therapist, who now looked at you calmly for someone who’s wrist will surely bruise for how tight the hold is said “Well thats how introduction sessions go. And I don’t want to overwhelm you with-“

“I’m ALREADY overwhelmed. I’m trying to get my life together, trying to get my SHIT together before they send me off to god-knows-where psych ward and replace me with that sonofabitch”

“Replace you?”

“YES, that why I need you to fix me, goddamn it-“

“______, I can’t fix you”

And that’s all folks <3 it’s currently 1 in the morning for me and I don’t want to talk myself out of sending this nor proof-reading this. So cliffhanger it is

Oh and I frequently chew on paper cause I like the way it feels chewing on it in the back of my teeth but hate spitting it out so I just swallow it, since we’re sharing with the class

OH MY GOOOOOOOD THIS IS AMAZING! THIS IS SO GOOD I CAN 102902202 PERCENT SEE BIRDY FLIPPING THE FUCK OUT DURING THERAPY LIKE ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS FIX ME MOTHERFUCKER

AND THE THERAPIST IS LIKE 2 SECONDS AWAY FROM PUTTING HER INTO A PSYCH WARD

Also

STOP EATING RANDOM SHIT

[jodilin65]

FRIDAY, APRIL 30, 1999 Will the new noisemakers be here tomorrow? After the city leaves at 4:00, I’ll look over the wall and see if the stuff’s still there and if the grass is mowed. That should be a sign in itself. When I went to hang a few things on the line just now, I could hear soft music coming from over there. Just what have they been doing for eight hours a day for these past two weeks?

I just hope my vibes are right about us moving in July or early August, cuz getting the house up for sale by mid-May is just a dream. I knew he was full of shit when he said the house would be ready to put on the market by then. He’s much too intelligent to be giving off-the-wall time frames like he’s done a lot in the past, and it makes me wonder if he likes don’t that.

He called that realtor, who was with customers, to find out what land was available and where, but he never returned the call. People seem to be doing that a lot lately; not returning calls.

I wonder if the guy with the braids doll will return Tom’s email. Tom told him we haven’t gotten the doll, but I’ll bet you anything that if he does reply, he’ll say it’s been sent. This guy has sold over 200 items and has a good rep with the auction. Tom says he thinks he’s procrastinating, but I think it’s the mailman. That’s two packages he’s given away and I’m really fed up with him! I want to kick his ass so bad! Ironically enough, the two packages I never got had dolls involved. So, it’s a combination of my being hexed in the doll department, and having a mailman who likes to give our mail away. I’ve already resigned myself to the fact that I’ll never have this braids doll any more than I’ll ever have pictures from Paula. I just hope we can get our money back on this doll.

Andy left a message yesterday. It was a quick one, cuz he was expecting a couple of co-workers to visit. I thought he wasn’t mixing business with pleasure, but I guess not. He said he’s got all his bills paid. That’s good.

I’m halfway done reading Black Ice, then I’ll read Amy Girl.

Yesterday and the day before, I spent a lot of time on the web getting back the Gloria pictures I lost. I also got a Gloria theme and it sucked, so I made it better. They used a few icons with her picture. Their colors sucked, so I chose my own. The only thing I really like about it is the music clips, although they should’ve put more on and more variety of songs, too. They’ve got two clips from Anything for You. I went and made my own picture icons, but they didn’t look too good cuz of the way my wallpaper picture colors would get into them. Then they started doing weird things on me and changing into bizarre things. Maybe I’ll try again today.

Later…

Fell asleep for an hour cuz I had to take Benadryl. Had the typical allergy attack I get every 2-3 weeks. It looks like it isn’t over either, since I just started sneezing again. These things go on all day and I usually can’t stop it till the next day. I may go for 20-30 minute periods without sneezing, but on days I have these attacks, I sneeze all day on and off. I don’t have an attack for just a part of a day, although I wish that were the case if I had to have them at all! God doesn’t recognize hard work when he sees it. I dust, vacuum, and quit smoking, only to keep on having allergy trouble. Maybe he’ll care enough to help me help myself someday, but I won’t count on it.

It’s just about May now, but we’ve barely scratched the surface of our list of prep jobs. Tom is out there putting flashing on the patio, so that’s another step in the right direction.

My vibes say next door will be empty again this weekend, but we’ll see what my logic says after I do a spy check after they leave today.

Tom fixed the bird clock. I didn’t think to check it myself, but when he did he saw that the part that makes the birds chirp uses two separate batteries from the one battery that keeps time. The “chirping” batteries were dead.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 28, 1999 Due to having major computer problems, I haven’t written in a few days.

First, Patch died yesterday, so now I just have Katie and Ashley. I could’ve sworn I saw Katie fucking Ashley, though, which makes no sense at all. Even if Katie was a male, they should be well on their second batch by now. It’s too late to not have produced any babies since they only carry litters for three weeks.

Tom has an anti-virus thing installed on his computer. He never bothered to put one in mine, cuz I hardly ever download anything. We suspect that the new screensavers we recently got had a virus in them that infected my computer. One day my computer just wouldn’t boot up. I ended up losing so much. I lost some of the Gloria pictures I downloaded not too long ago, the superimposed pictures I made, the pictures I put pretty backgrounds on, all the family pictures, doll pictures, and some pet pictures, my cardfiles, and more. Tom says he’s really sorry he didn’t back me up more often. Yeah, me too, but now I’ve set things up so that I can’t lose much, if anything at all, the next time something like this happens. Fortunately, though, I didn’t lose any journal stuff. I lost four pages from Andy’s file, but I was able to rebuild that by copying/pasting excerpts from my journal just like I would for the freeloaders.

Since my weight hasn’t fluctuated much in the last several months, I quit doing a weight file, then I condensed things. I rebuilt my dolls and pets files in my word processor so I can back things up more easily. I pretty much went back to basics. The main reason I got into computers in the first place was to do journals and write letters. Not sit and look at pictures. My picture days are over. If I want a picture, I’ll print it out. That way it can’t get lost so easily.

Aside from AOL, a few games I like, some empty files I use for letters, and my journals, I have my journal chart, the grocery list, an index of subjects I once began, phone numbers, lyrics, edits, and pet and doll info all backed up onto one floppy. So, from now on, all that should matter is that I keep my journal stuff backed up regularly. Yesterday, I figured out how to restore floppies for the first time in my life. It was only January 9th, as far as the computer was concerned, cuz that was when we last backed up on CDs, so I had to restore the journal stuff from then on up till now. Every time I get a page worth of Andy’s stuff, I’ll print it out.

Got my period. It started yesterday. Will I get those mid-cycle pains for the 4th month in a row in two weeks? Anyway, even if it’s dryer when he doesn’t get off, the good thing about when he does get off is that I know it’ll be many months before he does it again. Also, if he cums at the wrong time of month, it’s the wrong time of month for me. If he cums at the right time of month, it’s the wrong time of month for me. I still trust him to be smart enough not to go squirting at the right time, and for God to take care of destiny even if he does.

I had been worried that it’d be a bitch to peel off stickers and contact paper from shelves/doors, but Tom got this really cool thing that sands it right off. It’ll even sand the paint off too, in no time at all. It’s a chalky, rough pumice-like thing. It makes a mess, but it works.

I moved Velvet into the aquarium that’ll be his home when we move. He seems content enough in it. Especially since he’s such a lazy pig who just sits there. I put him right next to the mice and I think he likes being able to see them. Makes him feel less alone, I guess.

I also put Bailey back in the living room, cuz the room just looks so boring without a doll in it. The rest are still in boxes, but not Mary, Giselle, Maria, or Rapunzel. I don’t have suitable boxes for them, but that’s fine. They can ride in the backseat of the car wrapped in towels.

It looks like I’ll be keeping Giselle #2 which I’ll rename Liselle to go with her twin Giselle. Giselle and Liselle. I’ll leave her in her box till we move, of course, and then I’ll do different things to make her look somewhat different than her twin.

I was right, so far, when I said I’d only get two or three out of the four dolls I got from eBay (the auction), so Tom will email the guy tonight so we can get our money back. That’s two packages of mine the mailman didn’t give me this month.

I got that form for that art test. I did a good job considering that I haven’t drawn in about a year. They asked a few questions - age, marital status, why you like art. Then you draw a copy of a couple of cartoon heads and dress up an outline of a house. If the mailman lets me have it, I should receive a score and evaluation on it. Tom said I did a great job and that he’s looking forward to hearing what my options are on it. I don’t know. This is a fun experiment, but I’m sure that they tell everyone their work is good. Even if I’d scribbled, I’m sure I’d get an encouraging reply about it with a high score attached. They want to entice anyone they can into their training program.

Later…

The city van’s not here yet. Usually, he’s here from 8:30-4:00, with an hour and a half off for lunch. Just three more days till the freeloader animals get over there. There may be no basketball games, but there’ll be music, car doors, loudmouths, and maybe even a dog or two to go with it. Thank God we’ll be getting out of here soon enough.

I realized a reason I don’t want to be with Andy in his car again. I may’ve been lucky enough not to go down with him for years, but I’m reluctant to push my luck any further. Very reluctant. Even he says he doesn’t want to take certain risks, like having furniture stick out of his trunk, cuz he’s not insured. That doesn’t mean he still doesn’t have weed on him when he drives around. To think that I could’ve gone down with him those many times I’d ride in his car with him in the past is a bit scary. I can’t afford to push my luck nowadays. I’m not some poor, young, cute girl with connections any more. I’m a married, middle-aged woman with a decent income. I can’t afford to go down with him now that my life is what it is. I just don’t want losers or druggies for friends. Period. Out of the very few things Andy has an interest in, he knows his stuff well, and there is some good to Andy, but if I’ve said it once, I’ll say it a million times - I’ve outgrown Andy. I’m not going down for some waste product who doesn’t give a shit about life. Who only cares about himself. If he wants to be a dope case that hangs with the wrong people and that sits on his ass day in and day out with a phone in one hand and a joint in the other - let him. Let him stuff his face and ruin his life at his own expense. I’m not taking any more risks. Period.

Here’s something that’s pretty amazing. By 4:00 yesterday, there had been only one sales call. I don’t know what calls came later, though, cuz I went to bed around then.

Later…

The city van’s here. An hour later today.

Later…

Now there are two city vans.

Later…

We’re back down to one van. Just what in the world are they doing over there, hour after hour, day after day? What did those freeloaders do over there?

Anyway, Tom was in for about a half hour. He put in a sell order to cash in some stock if it hit 76 points, but it hasn’t so far. He’s gone now to the eye doctor. I’ll be calling in an order for pork-fried rice at noon which he’ll pick up.

If there’s one thing, and one thing only, that I’m glad is gone, it’s the cardfile. I inserted a table with rows and columns of blocks for keeping track of pet and doll info and it looks much better this way.

SUNDAY, APRIL 25, 1999 No one moved in yesterday, and there were signs saying that no one would move in this weekend that we didn’t see or think of right away. The grass isn’t mowed, the recycle bin’s out, and they still haven’t picked up the shit I threw in the backyard I couldn’t believe it!

The only activity that I know of that went on over there yesterday, was this car that pulled deep into the carport. A fat lady and a little boy got out of the car and they went straight to the back. The first thing I thought was that the pregnant kid’s mother came over with one of the kid’s kids, and they were getting the dog set up in back, but nope. They were only here a few minutes, too. Maybe they went to get something I threw over.

Then Tom went up on the roof to read some numbers off the side of the cooler, and to spy, and that’s when I totally regretted throwing things over there! Mr. Paranoid saw the shit over there and lectured me for a good hour or so on why I shouldn’t do things like that and why it’s important that he be paranoid and cautious in life. I’m very very sorry to have upset him, and now I’ll be just as paranoid and cautious just so I can spare him from having to get all worried again. I’ll never again do anything remotely like that.

Also, there’s no way I’m gonna tell him about the hoop when we move. He’d be a basket case of nerves over it and he doesn’t need it if I can spare him from it. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Not even after ten years will I tell him about the hoop, cuz even then he’ll probably worry that something bad may come of it.

Meanwhile, I’m going to finish enjoying this weekend with next door empty. It’s to be our last weekend here with it empty.

Later…

Tom fixed the stereo in seconds yesterday. All that was keeping it from playing CDs was a loose wire.

I went around and counted cracked outlets and light switches for him so he can pick up new ones to replace them when he gets other things we need. It’s gonna cost $500 to put the fence around the pool! But it’s the law.

SATURDAY, APRIL 24, 1999 I have so much to write about! Let me start with the bad news, then I’ll get to the good news. I saw what’s probably going to be the new scum that’s gonna be next to us either this weekend or sometime during next week for sure. We’ve gone from Mormons to blacks to Mexicans. I am so sick of them! I’m so sick of having to be the one stuck next to lazy, rude, selfish kids with kids. At 9:45 on Thursday, the city van came back, and shortly after, at 10:00, a nice blue/gray van pulled in. Too nice for someone who’s supposed to be poor and in need of subsidized housing. Anyway, out hopped a pregnant woman with two little kids and with what appeared to be her mother. A little later, the city van and the asshole's van left. At 12:30, the pregnant kid returned with two guys. She and the guys couldn’t have been over 18 and they all looked like total scum. Totally. One of the guys had a T-shirt on that said: Don’t ask me 4 shit. I was thinking to myself, don’t worry. I’m not gonna bother wasting my time, guy. I’m gonna have the city deal with you.

At 1:00, the van came back. I saw that same gray-haired guy step out topless and pull a door out of the back of the van, and a paint roller.

I hate these loud-mouthed Mexicans! Although they didn’t seem to be that loud for being Mexican. Not as loud as that black bitch was. She sounded like a mad bull butch. Anyway, I’m just so sick of these lazy people who have one kid, jump on welfare, then keep popping kids so they can avoid having to work. Meanwhile, it’s people like us who struggle to earn a living that has to foot their bills with our tax dollars, and I’m sick of it. Fucking sick of it! They couldn’t wait to have kids. They just had to run out and have them before they were ready and on stable ground financially. They probably made a contest out of which would come first - their diploma or the kids, although I doubt Miss Mex went all the way through high school.

I could’ve sworn I heard one of them mention us having a pool, so they were probably peaking in our yard. I hope Tom doesn’t leave anything of value out there.

Tom says I’m pretty bigoted. Well, if they don’t force their lives on me then I won’t be. If they let me sleep and don’t constantly invade my home with their noise, they can be whatever color/race they happen to be. It’s not the color or race I’m against so much as the ways of lazy people like this. I’ve lived in two projects. I know how most of them are. Not all, but most. It’s rude, selfish assholes I’m against. Not blacks or Mexicans, although I use those words as a way to vent. I’d do that with a white person I disliked, too. It may be wrong, but within my own journals, I think I should be able to say whatever I please. I’ll be damned if I’ll watch what I say in my journal. I could’ve lowered myself to that bitch’s level and called her a N after she stormed off calling me a ho, but I didn’t. The issue wasn’t about her black skin. The issue was about her and her associates harassing me with noise.

Now for the good news. I saw the city van pull in yesterday at the usual time of 8:30. This time, the gray-haired guy was with that black guy again. The black guy got out and took hold of the lock on the hoop just like one of the black boys had done. Then I stepped out and asked if the place was gonna be rented to the people that came yesterday. He said not for sure. They had just come to look at the place. I don’t buy it, though. I think it is gonna be them living there, but can they have that nice van? I thought Tom said subsidized housing was for the working poor, but there’s no way this Mexie’s gonna be working. Not with kid number three on the way by August at the latest. So, if she can stay home and have a van like that, she can have a dog too, right?

I asked when the new people would be in. He said when they were done fixing the place up.

Anyway, I asked if they could do me the favor of taking the hoop down cuz kids were coming around in the middle of the night playing ball. This is BS, of course, but I figured that’d get me further than saying that I just didn’t want to listen to the new kids, or their kids, thump balls just outside my window all day long. So, the guy got up and took it down!!! With my luck, though, the new scum will be bouncing balls up and down the driveway, anyway. I’m still thrilled to see this thing go, and I wish I’d done this in between the Mormons and the blacks. Better later than never, I guess, even though Tom says we can have the house up for sale as soon as May 15th. I just hope we can sell it privately, although $65,000-$75,000 is a lot of cash to come up with.

Anyway, I’ve opted to wait till after we move before telling Tom that I asked that the hoop be taken down, cuz he can get more paranoid than Andy at times. He’ll fear trouble will come from it, but I know that even if the city suspects I’m the one who locked the hoop, they can’t prove it, and I don’t think they’d bother with such petty shit anyway. They should have better things to do with their time. Tom, though, may fear we’ll have to go to court on vandalism charges.

We saw the hoop sitting just inside the carport on our way out at around 10:00 and I feared they’d put the hoop back up as soon as the lazies moved in, but Tom said he didn’t think they would. He was the one to be right, fortunately. He said he saw a pickup haul it away. Good riddance!!

On our way back, we saw an APS truck. That means they could be moving in this weekend, but more than likely, they’ll be in next week. I’ll have to see if they replaced the security light yet when I listen to music. I’ll go do that now, then write about our little outing yesterday.

Later…

The security light hasn’t been replaced yet, but I’ve been compensated for getting rid of the hoop with a dead stereo. I was listening to CDs and everything was just fine, but then it quit playing anything. It goes from disk to disk, then stops as if it had no CDs loaded in its carousel. Great timing. Just what we need to be dealing with now. I might not tell Tom about it till after we move and I may just listen to tapes till then.

We went to Wal-Mart yesterday and he got a couple of pairs of shorts. I got a bright pink cotton pair of shorts and two satin pairs in black and royal blue. Their sundresses were boring. I got a pair of denim shorts, two white bras, and two shiny pairs of panties. One’s gold and white checkered, the other’s magenta and black.

The only problem with the shorts is that because I’m so thick-waisted, in order to get a comfortable fit around the waist, the rest is too big and baggy. In order to get the shorts to fit well, I have to get a tight waist. So I took the good fit with the tight waist and am now stretching the waists on chair backs.

Then we went to the bookstore, got Jack-n-the-Box, and came home. Not right away, though, cuz some stupid shit had to hold us up by parking in a way that we couldn’t get by them till they decided to move. I was getting more pissed by the moment. Two more minutes and I’d have been pulling the dumb fuck out of its car and beating the fuck out of it, I swear to God!

We still want to go to the library some other time and to the mall so I can get more clothes.

If I don’t get my braids doll today, then I guess I’ll get her next week.

Ashton-Drake sent me their new catalog. They had a couple of new Indian dolls that were nice, but for $135, no thanks. If they weren’t 17” and under, that’d be different.

Later…

Tom came this morning. I was shocked. He cums so rarely that it was just so unexpected that I wondered if he’d quit for good.

So, are our new assholes coming today? I’d guess that if they’re moving in today, they should be here any time now. Well, they won’t be playing basketball in the midst of moving in! Anyway, Tom says he’ll stick around and spy along with me till 11:00, but that if they don’t come by then, he’s gonna go out to the racetrack.

THURSDAY, APRIL 22, 1999 Andy left a message about an hour ago saying he was bored and lonely, so call him if I was up. I called, but he didn’t answer. Then he called me back saying he was out walking and wanted another hour before calling. I thought he was supposed to be so bored and lonely. He’s probably lowering himself out of desperation to cruising the streets for sex. So, I just left him a message to please have his eating done when he calls me but to just let the phone ring once, and I’ll take that as my cue to make my coffee, then I’ll call him back. Knowing him, though, he’ll have a mouthful of food, the little pig!

In the first message he left, he told me he didn’t know if he’d told me yet, but that he was going back east in May for a visit, and he went through that spiel again, after telling me three times. Of course, if he stopped potting his brains out, he may remember what he’s already told me. Sometimes, though, I think he just rambles about the same old things just to be leaving me a lengthy message, since he never really has anything new going on with him. He says he realizes he chooses to be bored. Yeah, I realized that a long time ago. I know he doesn’t want to do anything. As I told him, though, I’ll still accept him no matter what he does, and this is true whether or not I dumped him. He has to be what he wants to be. No one can make him work or do anything he doesn’t want to do. Only God can do that to any of us.

Then he says he’s gonna get his act together and seriously work when he gets back. Yeah, right! And I’ll get serious about being a brain surgeon!

I’m surprised Tammy hasn’t called yet, but she will. It’s just a matter of time. I knew the pathological liar had no intentions of sending a letter or pictures either like she said she would, but do I really care or want these anymore? No. I’m done with these people.

It’ll be nice to have Andy go back east and give me a break from the phone for two weeks, but will he call Tammy? I hope not, for his sake. She’s a very insecure person, uncomfortable with gays, and living in the past. She’ll only be rude, cold and distant to Andy and bring up the past, but Andy has to be Andy, as always, and do whatever he wants to do.

Later…

I managed to get Andy off the phone in just a half hour. He was falling asleep anyway, and the stoned ditz who never listens to a damn thing I say asked the same questions for the tenth time and brought up yet again manufactured homes being cheaper and blowing away in storms. For the tenth time, I explained to him why they’re cheaper and why they won’t blow away (he’s just jealous and is trying to burst my bubble). So, after hearing about stuff I already know, he mentioned us going to Camelback Mountain and then to his house. I reminded him of how he recently said he was sick of Camelback Mountain, then he goes, “Boy, I contradict myself a lot, huh?” Yeah, he does. Anyway, I don’t want to go, but what am I supposed to do? Tell him, “No, I don’t feel like it. Besides, why do you think I’m not giving you our address and number when we move? Cuz I’m sick of you. I’ve moved on in life, you haven’t. You’re a lazy druggie and I don’t need that.”

He wanted me to hand-write more notes up for him to distribute, but I told him no. Not just because I don’t feel like writing the notes, but because I’m sick of doing for him and not getting much in return for it. There’s nothing he can really offer me. Also, why doesn’t he do it? He has the time. While he’s sitting at home stuffing his face or getting high, why doesn’t he do it? He said he might have Michelle do it.

Lastly, during our talk, he said he was picking food out of his teeth but I know he was really eating the whole time. God, what a fucking, major fucking pig this guy’s become! That’s about 35 minutes of eating - damn!

I wonder what Naper dolls are? Andy says Barbara Nicks collects these.

Later…

That fucking pest! Here we go again with the phone. He just called twice. Let me make some coffee, then see what this general nuisance wants now.

Later…

Well, Andy just had himself a little scare. I’d have been furious and I’d have run out after the person but to each their own. He sleeps with music on and had just turned his radio on to go to bed when he heard these weird noises. So he turned the music off and listened and then saw someone running from his backyard. I don’t know if the person heard him, changed their mind, or what their intentions were in the first place, but Andy was appalled that someone tried breaking in at 4:00 in the morning with him there. He says he keeps his kitchen window open sometimes and that they got the screen out. I say it’s Laura-related or someone he’s had problems with cuz 4:00 in the morning is not the time to go breaking into houses when you know the people are probably home and could very well shoot you since so many people have guns.

I sort of played a joke on Tom. I told him on the machine that I saw a show about people like him who rarely cum and that it has to do with some blockage, so it’s physical and not mental. It’s rare, but maybe not as rare as people think cuz some people won’t speak up about it cuz they’re either shy, embarrassed, or afraid they won’t be believed. Meanwhile, he can do what he wants with the information and doesn’t have to change a thing on account of me.

It’s a long shot. Quite a long shot. But maybe his problem is physical. Whatever it is, although I still think it’s fear of making a kid, I hope he doesn’t change unless he wants to. I prefer him as he is. Especially since I don’t want a kid, regardless of how much it’s not meant to be, anyway.

For a few hours this morning, a city van was next door. I don’t know if they were around in the afternoon, though. It appears the electricity’s not on yet. Also, that unmarked white car that looks like ours and a little like one of the ones that would visit the bitch was there today, too.

The lock’s still on. I hope they wait till after the weekend before cutting it off, cuz then that’ll be one less weekend that it could be used.

I wonder why they haven’t taken the recycle bin in from off of the side of the road.

Tom’s still sure we can beat our deadline and be out of here in July or August. I hope so! I really, really do!

Yesterday I dragged out two old, beat-up chairs to be put in the alley during bulk pickup, an old table, and that wavy, furry recliner that Andy gave us.

Woke up to find that I lost a pound, naturally, without water pills. I’m down to 107 pounds. Of course, though, that meant no shitting, so I’ll be back to 108-109 by tomorrow.

Later…

Got the bitch’s new number. Yesterday, I used the message-send thing (which is untraceable as far as I know) as a test and sent a message to her old number. All I did was moan for a second. It went through, but why would it send to a number that’s been changed and that’s not in use now? Must’ve gotten forwarded to her new number. Also, I thought this bitch didn’t accept blocked calls. Maybe she’s too broke to have kept her Caller ID.

Anyway, I called at 5:45 and whispered her name. She said, “Uh-huh” and there was no doubt about it being her. She asked who it was and I whispered something unclear, hoping she’d guess a name that I’d go along with. Bitch did just that. She asked, “Michelle?” I said yes, and that I was scared about this guy Brian I met last night who was outside my window. She asked what I wanted her to do and I asked if she could come over. She said she didn’t have a car to come over. I asked if her dad was there yet. She said no one was there yet. I asked if she had to go to work. She said yes. So, I told her I’d call her later and that was it.

I wonder if the bitch will suspect me when she finds out Michelle never called her.

I really think she’s still subsidized and that’s why she moved quietly and hasn’t done anything to the house. I think that for some reason, the city just transferred her to some other house. Maybe not even a house. Maybe an apartment, but my guess is that she’s in another house. She’s not living with Mike. At least I don’t think she is, cuz she said, “Nobody’s here yet.” Not, “He’s not here yet,” when I asked about her dad, and remember, both Bill and the cock would come over in the mornings.

I thought about waiting till Bill got there to call him. I could probably come up with a clever enough line that he’d buy and weasel the new address out of him, but I won’t just in case he were to be a little suspicious and give me the wrong address. I’ll just stick with the original plan and mail it next door and let it get forwarded.

The final chapter of the bitch will be when I call her two more times. I’m gonna wait a week or two after sending her her stuff, then call her when I think she’ll answer and ask if she got the stuff. If she didn’t, she’d more than likely sound curious and confused and ask who I was. If she did, she should go off on me. I’ll make the last call a little later by way of the message-send thing. I’ll just remind her how lucky she is I didn’t maul her what with all the shit she and her cronies stuck me with, and just laugh and laugh away at her. Then just like Tammy, Larry, Dureen, Art, and Andy, we’ll be finished with each other.

Later…

I was right on assuming the city van would be here at 8:30. It just pulled in.

Tom mentioned us possibly looking in the paper for ads with people wanting to buy houses with cash. Oh, how wonderful it’d be if we could privately sell this house! Then I wouldn’t have to be woken up a billion times while waiting for a Realtor to call. Also, we’d get out of having to pay percentage fees.

Later…

Just saw this gray-haired guy, who I’ve seen working next door before, but who isn’t the one I spoke to, pull a door out from the back of the van. An inner door. Bitch and cock must’ve had a fight and punched a door out.

No white car today. At least not yet. That white car’s gotta be some kind of inspector checking up on the workers to make sure everything’s going well.

The van’s leaving. That was fast. And from what I could see, it was just that one guy.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 21, 1999 Typical, typical Tom. He has me get him up at 10:00 so he can do some work on the back room before leaving at 12:30, but what does he do? Finds out he was outbid on a computer part on the online auction, then sat in front of the TV till he had to shower and leave. We’re never gonna get out of here by July or August at this rate. Not if he keeps contradicting and procrastinating, and not if the car keeps having problems. His being sad about having too much to do tells me something right there; that he’s gonna resist doing things till the last minute, causing us to be stuck here till October or something.

At 12:30, I went and put the lock on the hoop which will be cut off by the weekend tops, I’m sure. Can’t these fucking city people, when they see another lock, just say to themselves, Alright. Somebody must really want this locked for a reason. So be it then. But no. Knowing how people work, that’ll only egg them on to rebel and cut the lock off again and make a competition of it.

At 1:00, the renters had company. This is the latest I’ve ever known them to have company, but somehow, it doesn’t surprise me. All I heard was a car door, but for about 10 minutes they had their front door wide open and I could see people milling about. Then the white pickup that came and had parked on the street left and now the only two cars there are the ones that are always there. They’ve shut their door and lights.

The doll with braids could get here tomorrow!

Later…

I recorded myself singing to hear if there was a difference in the way my voice sounds since not smoking for a year and a half but it was the same. In other words, it sucked but was better than most could do. It was as nasally as it usually is. The only thing I didn’t hear that I’d always hear when I’d tape myself singing, was me clearing my throat. It was still strong, on key, and vibrant, but other than that, I didn’t like what I heard.

I could’ve sworn I just saw Katie trying to fuck Ashley. I took her out, and Patch too, since she was easier to get at than Ashley at the moment, and looked at their parts. They look the same to me, but boy is Patch’s weird cuz of her tumor that’s growing fast. Unlike the others that had tumors, hers goes down from her hip to her crotch. Although I could see her parts, her crotch is bulging at one side making it look sort of twisted. How can she shit with this thing?

Another racially motivated school shooting. This one’s in Denver where my braids doll is. They need to go back to segregation, I swear! It shouldn’t have to be that way, but it’s the only way to cut down some of the problems like this. Especially since kids nowadays can get a hold of guns as easily as bubble gum. Kids are mean enough as it is and will shoot another kid for the color of their shirt, so why add fuel to the fire and give them more reasons? It’s not fair, it’s not right, blacks and whites should be able to get along, but that’s just pure fantasy and never to be a reality. You can’t just say, “OK boys and girls. I want you to all get along now no matter what color you are.” That’s not the way it works. In reality, blacks and whites don’t mix. Period. We may not like it or think it should be that way, but that’s just the way it is. It’s always been that way and it always will be.

It’s pretty sick to see how almost all schools are installing metal detectors. What have schools become? Airports? Well, I’m glad I’ll never be having a kid. I’d have hated to send it to such a war zone and be wondering all the time if it’d get shot. Sending kids off to school today is like sending them off to some military base with beefed-up security. Instead of learning what they should be learning, they’ve got to fear for their lives (if they aren’t one of the ones on some murderous rampage).

TUESDAY, APRIL 20, 1999 I’m to get Tom up at 10:00, according to the message he left when he came in while I was asleep, so he can get some work done in the back room.

He stops at his ma’s on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He says she’s doing OK. Yeah, I figured.

Last night, we had our typical cumless sex. Neither of us could really get into it. He didn’t even go on top, claiming he likes variety. I really believe that whether or not I was with just Tom for the rest of my life, or slutting around with women, sex will never again be new, exciting, and fulfilling. It’s easier to just get myself off when I need to get off since I don’t have the patience to get off with him since it now takes me forever to get off. I don’t think he could hold out long enough for me to get off. I don’t want to run the guy ragged in bed.

I forgot to mention that I saw an ad on TV for free information on being an art student and taking an art test. I don’t want to be an art student anywhere, but I’m curious to take the test and have it graded. You take some art test that’s judged by people who teach at this school, I guess, and I’m curious to see what they say about it. I haven’t drawn in ages!

I had Ratsy running around the music room the other night like Piggy used to do. He seemed to have a good time.

Someone had to be next door early Monday morning; cuz the recycle bin was out (with the stuff I threw over there in it?). I don’t know if anyone was there today, cuz the bin’s still out.

As I knew would be the case sooner or later, though, the lock’s been cut off. Tonight, after Tom goes to work, I’ll put another lock on, just in case the other very old lock broke off. I doubt it, though. I’m sure it was cut off and that this one will get cut off, too. If God insists that the hoop not be locked and that I must deal with ball games till we move - so be it. At least that can’t wake me up and can be fanned out when I’m up. It’s getting hot too, so maybe kids won’t want to play much ball.

A good way to tell when the new scum’s about to move in will be by the security light. I know the city will replace that obnoxious light. Freeloaders, why did you have to move?!

We went to Staples and Walgreens yesterday. The seatbelt adjuster’s great. It really keeps the belt off my neck.

We bought a package of 10 boxes that are the same size as the ones he used to be able to get at work. I packed stuff we won’t need while we’re still here.

Got a V-shaped keyboard, but it was awful! I couldn’t type on it to save my life, so I’ve got my old one back. Tom may use it, though.

Got a book to hold me over till we go to the bookstore on Friday called Black and Blue. I’m almost done with The Other Side.

Got a puzzle, a potpourri thing you clip along the rim of the toilet, and lilac-scented refills which really do smell just like lilac.

I’m hoping that this Friday, Tom will not only feel up to going to Wal-Mart and to the bookstore but maybe to the library too, to get books on face exercises and doll making. Also, to get this 200 CD changer that you can hook up to your stereo. That’d be great! Then I’d never have to handle the CDs and risk damage to them or hairs getting caught in the stereo and Tom could have my CD rack for his computer CDs.

Speaking of exercises, I’m making yet another attempt to be consistent with that by developing another routine. I’ll do my abs, hips, and inner thighs every day (my worst areas), my upper body every other day, and my lower body every other day. About 8 exercises a day. Then when we move, I’ll walk on the walker for 15 minutes every day, too.

Talked to Paula earlier, who’s up to the usual - health problems, neighbor problems, and male problems. She’s getting her money back on the package. She either wrote the address out wrong, or the mailman gave it away. Maybe he really didn’t give it away, since I got these other packages. I think the ditz addressed it wrong and that I’m not meant to get mail from her. A doll from her would’ve been nice, but pictures would’ve been even nicer. However, I know I’ll never have pictures of her. This is the second attempt at her getting pictures to me. Something up there, for whatever reason, just doesn’t want me having pictures of her.

Andy mentioned coming over to use this program that prints out music you play on the keyboard. Always when he wants something. Can’t come over just to see me. I told him we don’t have the program anymore, but in truth, our computers aren’t set up for it, and I’m not gonna go out of my way or steal any of Tom’s sparse, valuable free time, to cater to Andy. We’ve given and done enough for Andy. Everything’s what Andy wants.

I did tell him, though, that he might want to come over to get the round glass shelves in the living room, cuz he should be able to haul it in his trunk, the more I think of it. It’ll stick out the back of his trunk, but he should still be able to transport it that way. It’s heavy enough that it won’t bounce out, even without a rope across it.

MONDAY, APRIL 19, 1999 Here’s a weird observation. We got this car on a Sunday, March 21st. So, exactly one month to the date, just four weeks later, there’s already a problem. I suppose some would consider me a selfish, greedy, ungrateful person, but I’m so sick of God’s unfairness. I resent his not letting us get ahead. If we have to play car, we’re never gonna get out of here come July or August. Not if every other weekend has to go to the car. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he had to spend the next weekend on the car, so there goes two days right there to prep and relax.

God, give the poor guy a break, will you? Have mercy on the guy! He works his ass off, has no free time, so leave him alone! Just leave the guy alone!

Talk about mixed emotions about God. Just yesterday I was feeling blessed by him for allowing me not to want a child, about the moving, the doll making, etc. Today, though, I could strangle him. Enough is enough is enough of the same old, same old.

I suppose he’s gonna go after the toilet again anytime now, too.

Later…

Couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d expand on my mixed emotions about God. Well, his ordering me childless, for example. I know I’ve probably said this before, but I hate him and I love him for it. I hate his taking away what was supposed to be my right and my responsibility as a human being to choose, yet I love him for letting me out of the misery and hardships it would’ve brought. Then I find myself feeling sorry for myself that God has no faith in me and that that’s why he didn’t let me have a child back when I wanted one, but he shouldn’t have faith in me. There are things I can handle, but we all have our limits. Mine is children. I could never handle a child.

SUNDAY, APRIL 18, 1999 Another stress-free weekend as far as next door goes. God, please don’t take it away too soon! I know better, though. The new subsidized blacks or Mexicans will be here this week. If not, definitely by the 1st of May.

Speaking of freeloaders, who was that that rang our bell an hour ago with the clipboard? It might not have been a clipboard, but the black guy was holding something. Some papers of some kind. He only rang once. Usually, people don’t give up that quickly. What says he could be an associate of Miss Bitch was how he walked directly to the collie house as if he knew the freeloaders' house was empty. On the other hand, if he’s innocent of any asshole connections, he may’ve decided not to bother with houses that had no cars in their driveways or carports, upon doing whatever he’s doing. Maybe a survey? I also couldn’t see if he went on to another house after stopping at the collies. Lastly, I think the bitch and the collie people had a fight at some point and are no longer in touch.

Anyway, we’ve been compensated for the dolls and peace with the usual - car trouble. I knew it. I just knew it and I told him this would happen. I knew that no matter what car he got, no matter how old, it’d have one problem after another. A hose sprung a leak. He taped it, but who knows if it’ll hold till he can replace it? And as soon as he does fix it, there’ll be a new problem in 2-4 weeks. We’re totally hexed with cars. I still see us moving this summer and so does he, but what? Are we gonna get held up in life again to have to play car constantly? The back room still looks the same, although he swears he filled up a box of CDs. Car trouble or not, he’s full of shit when he says he’ll clear/pack the back room. He ain’t gonna do that till it gets close to us moving.

He “says” he’s gonna have the pool fence delivered next Monday, but we’ll see. Everything’s always gotta get delayed with him. Yesterday he got the tools to do the fence with. He also says he’s gonna get more roofing (he was a little short) and do the patio roof soon.

He didn’t get to go to the track. Said so many things were going wrong with the handicapping program he wrote for his little computer that he took that as a sign saying he wasn’t meant to go. He did some shopping instead and got a sketch board for the computer. You draw on this board with a stylus and what you draw appears on the screen. We haven’t used it yet cuz he has to get a special adapter for it.

He also got this thing to move the seatbelt off of my neck.

He said they have some really cool contacts that you can get custom-made with your prescription. You can get cat’s eyes, spirals, contacts that whiteout the eyeballs, etc. That’d be interesting to see.

Later…

Cocoa’s dead. No more originals left. How sad. I guess Patch, although she still appears to be well, will be next soon enough. Ashley and Katie, who should have at least a year of life in them, should be the only ones to move with us.

I got up too early this afternoon to go to Wal-Mart and the bookstore when Tom gets in in the morning, so we’ll just go to Walgreens and buy a book, then hit Wal-Mart and the bookstore this Friday. I should be able to go then unless the new pieces of shit move in this week and wake me up in the process. Most people move on weekends, but who knows if the new assholes will even work?

I know I’m gonna be stuck with either blacks or Mexicans, and you know what? Mexicans may be even worse cuz they have kids like rabbits. I could end up with a Mex woman over there with 8 little kids who do nothing but stay home all day and play ball, while the boyfriend who isn’t supposed to be there comes in and out all day slamming doors and blasting music, along with their millions of just as rude, selfish, buddies.

I’d like to think that the city, knowing how much I don’t want shit like that, will think twice about who they put in there, but that’s not the way it works. Anyone in a subsidized house is gonna be like those freeloaders were. They’re not gonna give a damn about anyone but themselves. They want to be heard. Society’s so against people like this that they have to work for acknowledgment. The more you try to ignore most people and tell them to shut up, the more they’re gonna do things to be heard and noticed. These kinds of scum feel the dire need to remind people of their sorry existence. Yes, Mexicans could end up worse, making it seem like the black folks never had company and like the kids that were associated with them were comatose. The adults talk really loud just like adult blacks do, and the women are typically just as aggressive as black women and butches are. The guys are all the same. So, while I could end up with a home-all-the-time Mex woman over there, plus adults that aren’t supposed to be living there, plus tons of kids, the shithead’s sister and her 5 kids are gonna be over constantly, and her other sister and her 6 kids will be too, and so on and so forth.

God, why do you do this to me?! Why is it that the biggest family has to go next to me? Or the blacks and the Hispanics? Why do I have to get stuck with them, huh? Can’t I have some nice, white, quiet, respectful, dogless, childless person or persons over there till we move? No! Of course not! That’d be the day! Can’t it stay empty till we move? No! That’d also be the day!

What is it with all these off-brands I’ve seen walking around these streets lately, anyway? I thought this was mainly a white, middle-class neighborhood.

I envy Tom, who says depending on what he eats, he can be full for up to 3-4 hours. I couldn’t be full past 20 minutes if I tried! The only way to satisfy my hunger regularly would be to eat the same amount, maybe a little more, than your average adult eats, which will put 20-50 pounds on me in less than half a year.

For when it comes time to show the house and to move, I’ve got five boxes that Summer Dream, Patrice, Angel, Falling Star and Christina will fit perfectly in. Meanwhile, the doll with braids that’s on its way can sit safely in her box. Anne, Edie, Victoria and Sunshine and Lollipops will fit on the tallest closet shelf which is Tom’s closet. Bailey, Maria, Giselle, Rapunzel and Mary can sit on the top of my journal bookcase. That way, they’ll be out of the way of unruly children that’ll be coming to see the house, and in a safe place for moving. Not all the dolls need to go in a box. It’s OK if some of them sit in the backseat of the car. I’ll just stick one of my shirts over them for extra cushioning.

That was weird. Some lonely desperado just went down the street honking. About 10 quick honks. What? Your stereo don’t work? Must’ve blown those speakers!

Those fucking sales calls are now coming even on Sundays. Sundays were the only day I had to look forward to getting a break from them, but not anymore. A guy called from some opinion/research thing. I told him I’d give him my opinion, alright - fuck off! I know I’m wasting my breath with these people, but it feels good to cuss them out now and then. He had a woman try again later, but I told her to fuck off too, and that was it for tonight.

Guess who couldn’t wait another weekend to not call? You got it. The motor mouth itself called and left three messages. Two for the last two weekends he didn’t call, and one for this weekend. Trying to make up for lost time, I guess. He didn’t mention God, but he brought up the food. He said he has a cold and should eat, but won’t. Right! I know he’s stuffing his face left and right cold or not. Like I said, he’s obsessed with finding common ground with people. He’s trying to reflect Michelle onto himself, so he’s eating like a pig and trying to gain weight. I don’t know if he knows this on a conscious level or not. Well, if he keeps eating like he has been, he may not end up like Michelle, but he will gain weight. Things have a way of catching up to us.

Anyway, the thing I like about his messages, although I’d rather a few short ones than lots of long ones, is that I can hit 3 to skip the boring parts. Most of what he says is boring or stuff that I already know, and he almost always leaves full 3-minute messages. But by hitting the 3 button it forwards 10 seconds. I also have to 6 it too, to speed him up. Like I said, I’m not gonna try to change his ways or politely ask for simple reasonable things that a friend should have no problem complying with. I’m just gonna let Andy be Andy and walk away.

So I skimmed through most of his messages being glad he wasn’t live. When we talk live, I can’t fast-forward him. I did listen to one part, though, but that’s because what he had to say was such a crock of shit that I was laughing all the way through it. His “new career move” (he’s only had about a thousand of these this year alone) is gonna be to tour with bands selling T-shirts. Right, Andy! Sure! That’s the biggest crock of shit. Brilliant, Andy! Real brilliant. Wake up, boy! You gonna spend your whole life an immature druggie loser with your head in the sand? Damn! Some people never change. They never grow. They never move on, learn, develop, and mature. I mean, I’m still a kid at heart too, in many ways. I still have teddy bears and shit like that, but look at all I’ve learned and done since 1988. But look at Andy - still a druggie, still smoking, still poor, still unstable, still loveless, still can’t hold a job, still obsessed with losers, looks, and youth. Still thinks he can mix dreams with reality, and is still as selfish and contradicting as always. Still loves abusers and conflicts with people. The only difference is that he never shuts up and he eats like a pig.

I used to look up to this guy. Now I’m not saying I’m perfect and that there’s no good in him. It’s just that I now see him as a few steps below myself and if he hasn’t come up a few pegs closer to my level by now, he ain’t gonna at all. He’s as set in his ways as I am in mine. Although I’d say I have a little more of an open mind for change than he does, and change is exactly what I need - meaning - no Mr. M in the new house! As hard as this may be to comprehend, I still do love and care for him and I want him to succeed in life and be happy. After we move, I’ll make it a point, on the first of every month, to close my eyes and think of Andy and Lisa and pray for their health and happiness in life, even if prayer almost never works for me. The power of prayer? Ha! How about the power of wishful thinking? That’s what they ought to call it. Meanwhile, let Andy chew in my ear, call up a storm, and bore me with God and food talk all he wants till it’s time to move on.

Guess the sales calls are done for the night. The question is, though - how long must the payback go on? And why is it that Andy never had to lose as much sleep as I did and get 5-10 sales calls a day? God must really favor anything male over anything female. Andy’s rude untrue friends may’ve woken him up here and there, but that’s something he could’ve avoided. He chose to associate with friends that aren’t true friends. People that don’t respect him enough to even let him sleep. Me? I had no choice. There was nothing I could do to keep from being woken up like I constantly was from 1991-1993. Especially during 1992. In 1992, I got woke up nearly every single day. Much more often than not. But sure enough, Andy’s beloved God wouldn’t have him be woken up day after day for over a year. Nor would he have him get nearly a dozen sales calls a day.

Speaking of lost sleep, I sure as hell can count on losing plenty when the house goes up for sale. I won’t allow the new subsidized scum to wake me up, but I gotta answer the phone if the Realtor calls to show the house when I’m on nights. Not that it’s not worth it, but knowing I’ll have to answer to a zillion sales calls and Andy, does not go over well with me at all. Andy says he’ll use the message-send thing. Yeah, right! This selfish loser’s gonna be calling me directly and we both know it. You’re such a true friend, Andy. Such a true friend. It’s nice to know I can count on you for a favor. Hey, what are friends for anyway, right?

I decided not to mail Andy his stuff right away. I’ll wait a few weeks after we move. I’ll give him a few weeks to sit and wonder where I am. Maybe that’ll just make him all the more determined to read his stuff thoroughly. That’ll depend on how curious he is, but it’s hard to get a druggie to do anything. They are so non-ambitious! Sorry, but I think I deserve better for a friend. I have too much respect for myself to have selfish little potheads for pals.

The spotting stopped yesterday. I have no idea when my next full flow will come, but if it comes at the end of the month, then I guess that’d be pretty much on time.

I saw an ad on TV for getting a video and some audiotapes for $40 on face exercises to tighten the face/neck. When we go to the library to look for the doll-making book (when he’s not playing car) I’ll have to look for a book on this. I could use those exercises, if they really work, to pick up my sagging neck and keep the folds that run from the sides of the nose to the sides of the mouth from getting any worse.

SATURDAY, APRIL 17, 1999 Falling Star could very well arrive tomorrow (today). I wish! I won’t count on it, though. Not if this stupid fuck of a mailman is gonna give it away or take his sweet time with delivering it, even if it is priority mail.

Monday morning we’re gonna go to Walmart. I’ve been needing more bras. We’re also gonna go to the bookstore.

Later…

Got Falling Star, Mary, and Christina today! I was shocked. Tom said they came as early as 9:15 this morning. Was there any doll trouble since they came so soon? You bet. But it was nothing I couldn’t fix or improve and deal with. Falling Star had no problems. She’s 12” kneeling and is on her brown bear rug right by me as I type, but I was afraid at first that I wouldn’t be able to pose her kneeling, cuz she’d pitch forward. I didn’t realize her legs would be soft and that they’d bend. Guess there’s a wire in them. Only her feet and lower calves are porcelain. She has cream-colored moccasins with a few tiny red and green beads. Her dress, which is sort of corduroy up top and felt on the bottom, is cream-colored from the chest down. There’s a dark aqua stripe along the hem and below that are fringes. She’s got longer fringes streaming off the front lower part. She has a brown leather belt with round silver studs. There are red and green beads throughout the dress. The upper part of the dress and the sleeves are dark aqua with white trim. The sleeves, which go down to the wrists, have fringes off the ends and are a little wide. Her arms are a little too long with hands a little too big, but other than that, she’s gorgeous. Her face reminds me of Summer Dream’s, even though they’re very different. Her face, with its delicate and distinct features, is more realistic looking than most of my dolls. Her dark brown eyes really have that wet look and they shimmer and sparkle with light as you move around them. She came with a beaded knife pocket (she doesn’t have a real knife. It’s just a handle glued to the top of the pocket), a beaded bracelet, and four beaded necklaces. Two reds and two blues. She looked good with one I made on too, but that was before I put her hair in a ponytail and exposed the big silver clasp in back. She has two white feathers in her hair that stick up in back. Also, some round gold thing, but I don’t know what you’d call it. Her black straight hair is short for being Indian. It’s barely to the middle of her back, but it’s long enough still. I’ve been wanting a doll that’d look good in a ponytail for variety. I used a red elastic to put her hair back with and it looks better this way. The red elastic goes with the red beads well, too. She has no bangs and her hair is close to one length. It’s parted in the middle.

Falling Star’s the doll we won even though we lost. I was outbid on her, but the woman offered us another one anyway for our bidding price of $46. An excellent deal, cuz I know these dolls go for $132 from Ashton-Drake. They have one similar to her, only she sits on a log, has a different outfit, and has braided hair. Ashton-Drake would want $80 for Christina and over $100 for Mary, but they don’t do dolls over 20” and Mary’s 22”.

Christina, the 16” ballerina, was a mistake. However, if the guy who sold her to me offered to buy her back, I’d say no. Unlike Mary and Falling Star, she’s not extremely detailed. Her hair is, though. It’s blond with bangs and up in two braids across the top of her head. She’s got flowers and ribbons of different shades of blue in her hair. Her face, though, is the worst of all. Her eyes are such a weird and ugly color. It’s like a grayish gold/green color with stripes, and eyelashes that are too long. She was very poorly put together. This is a girl doll no older than 10. Probably between 6-8, yet she had tits. Not only did she have tits but they were also so low. They were on her upper stomach. She was also pitching forward in her stand and was standing disproportionately. Slightly twisted at the waist. Her head, just like the other two that came today, was turned slightly towards one side. She’s supposed to be standing on both toes, but one toe doesn’t quite touch. Her dress is very nice, but I had to use the steamer on it at first. It’s made of that stiff stuff that Patrice has in the skirt of her dress, and it was a little crinkled at first. It’s white, with white solid dots on it. The only blue part is on the chest and sleeves, and that part’s satin. She has the same stiff stuff at the shoulders and blue satin ballet slippers that crisscross up to below the knee and tie in a bow as do Giselle’s. Her dress and blows consist of two different shades of blue. Sky blue, and a blue/green color. So all three of my ballerinas are wearing blue. This one just has blue only at the top of her dress. I undressed her to see if I could better proportion her so she’d look better and stand sturdier. That was when I noticed the “tit pillow” that was glued onto her upper stomach area. What a stupid thing to do. Anyway, I couldn’t pull or cut it off without having to cut the cloth part of the body out altogether. At first, it felt like foam was the body packing, but when I looked at it, it looked exactly like multi-colored lint that you’d pull out of a dryer. Fortunately, it was tightly packed enough that I could just leave it as it was. The stuffing won’t go falling out. Her pantaloons had a million threads hanging from them so I trimmed those off, and out of her pants came a little silica gel packet. This is the first doll I’ve seen packed with this. It’s to keep moisture out, but why would a porcelain doll need it? I’m not gonna bother to see if Mary’s got one in her pants. So after removing her so-called implants, I wiggled her around to a better position, and now she’s standing steadier on her stand and looking much better than when she arrived.

Mary is runner-up on my list of those who came today, and for a Victorian doll, she’s beautiful. She’s skinny for 22” tall. Her face is bigger than Giselle’s, but not as big as Maria’s and Bailey’s. I thought she’d be Maria’s size, but she’s just a tad shorter and wider than Giselle. I love how her dress, which is about a half-inch past her feet, falls straight down. It’s a nice change from the typical full-circle gown like Rapunzel’s that stands out. I don’t know if I’d describe it as burgundy, though. I’d say it’s a maroon (or dark red) and pink floral design. The dress is very detailed and sort of hard to describe. It’s got two white ribbon sashes across the chest with two button-like things in the middle. It’s long-sleeved, and there’s white lace at the neck, sleeves and the very bottom. The sleeves are so long that they only made her porcelain just a little above the wrists. Usually, the arms are porcelain to just above the elbow. There’s white netting from the waist down, and an area at the bottom that’s about two inches wide of white, gathered satin. There are also three pink rosebuds in the front with a few off-white embroidered lines that go down and across the front. She has yellow rosebuds with leaves in one hand. Well, sort of. The stem is wrapped around her wrist. She has white shoes, a pearl necklace, green eyes, and a matching hat. I couldn’t take the hat off cuz it’s glued on in a way that I could tear off, but there’d be glue in her hair that’d be impossible to get out and that’d look really dumb. The hat’s nice, though, with a feather, a yellow bow, and a yellow, orange and pink flower. She has curly brown hair with bangs and two small braids at the sides. Her hair’s a lot like Sunshine and Lollipop’s, and just like with Sunshine and Lollipop’s, I straightened her hair out a little bit. Mary’s stand was a bit bent and Tom straightened it out for me.

Of all my dolls, Bailey’s still number one. She’s the best looking and the most realistic looking too. Tom agrees.

So now I have 7 dark-haired dolls and 7 light-haired dolls, but that’ll change to 8 light-haired dolls when Miss Braids gets here, whatever her real name is. The guy, who’s in Denver, should’ve gotten our check for her yesterday or today, so that means we should get her probably Wednesday or Thursday if all goes as swiftly as the others did. Falling Star came from Ohio and the other two came from Wisconsin.

I have 9 girl dolls and 5 women dolls, but again, that’ll be changing. I’ll soon have 10 girl dolls. They’re all very detailed except for Christina, and I’m very happy with them all. Especially with Falling Star and Mary. I don’t know why Falling Star didn’t come with a certificate of authenticity, but Mary and Christina did.

The guy that packed Mary and Christina, packed them in a big box. Great for moving. I’ll also keep their boxes to put them in when it comes time to show the house and move.

Tom says that tomorrow he’ll clear the massive mound of clutter in the back room. That’s great, but every time he decides to do this, although that hasn’t been very many times, he retrashes it. I hope he won’t do that yet again. He needs to get some of this shit packed and out of the way for packed boxes. I can only fit so many boxes in the other rooms.

FRIDAY, APRIL 16, 1999 The van was next door again. The hoop is still locked, though.

I’m gonna deal with these new black, rude, selfish assholes right this time. As soon as they stick their bass on me or whatever the fuck noise they’re gonna throw out, I’m not even gonna waste my breath going over there and asking them to quiet down. I’m not gonna get a phony, “Sure. No problem,” only to have them keep right up with their shit. A city letter’s going right in as soon as they start up.

The phone rang earlier and I saw Tammy’s number. I said to myself, I knew it was just a matter of time before she started calling, but the person tried calling collect so that told me it was Lisa. Lisa calling with a problem since she rarely calls just to say hi. But the call came at 8:00 her time. Isn’t she supposed to be with the sick fuck at that time? Tammy says he takes them on weekends. I can’t believe a woman would place her kids in danger like that no matter what the courts order. What if he kills one of them? These things may not happen as often as we brush our teeth, but they do happen.

Anyway, I know this may sound like the cruelest, most selfish thing, but I’ve washed my hands of all Os and Gs. I don’t want nothing to do with their goddamn misery and problems and all that. Had it with their control, their negativity, their selfishness, their lies, etc. My life is too good right now to mar it with their shit. All it does is get me upset or angry when I hear about how Bill’s doing this or Larry’s doing that. The mention of Art and Doe’s names doesn’t do well with me, either. Just thinking of these people is enough to get me riled up. I moved on and that’s what I need to keep on doing. I need good, positive people like Tom in my life. People who haven’t abused me like they have. People who don’t pressure me into doing what they think I should be doing. After the overkill on the control and non-acceptance I grew up with and put up with as an adult, I’m a freedom freak in almost every sense of the word. I spent my childhood taking their abuse. I spent my 20s taking more of their abuse and trying to impress them and win them over. By the time I hit my 30s, I was fed up. I just don’t care anymore what they say, what they do, or what they think. They can all go to each other with problems I’ve had with them. They can lie, they can exaggerate, they can all kill themselves or each other. I’m not saying I want these people to suffer, I’m just saying they’re out of my life and that they’re people of the past. It’s up to them to either sink or swim.

I forgot to take the phone off the hook so these fucking sales calls wouldn’t keep distracting me, so when one called just now, I simply picked the phone up and left it off its hook. Didn’t even bother wasting my time telling them to fuck off.

Later…

Another half hour and I’ll put the phone back on the hook.

Last night was rather shitty, but only for a few minutes, fortunately. I swear, whether or not I stay not wanting a kid, or return to wanting one, I’ll never again bring up the subject of Invitro or a kid again. All it brings is trouble, as always. I told Tom I’d consider in vitro in a few years cuz he says he wants a kid. I knew I really wasn’t gonna do this, though. Then he said he was against it and never felt we needed a doctor. He said that just like he supported me last December, he’d support me in the future if I decided I wanted in vitro, and that’s really sweet of him, but why is this otherwise logical, practical, realistic, sensible guy so heavy in denial? First he thinks I could conceive naturally, then he felt something was wrong, and now he thinks both (he’d say I was still gonna conceive naturally even if I had to have a hysterectomy!). He said he sometimes has conflicting beliefs. We all have a right to our beliefs, but this one’s just too far-fetched and that of a delusional person. It may not be more than a dozen times, but he’s cum enough to prove to a rational human being that it’s thoroughly impossible for me, Jodi Lin, to conceive. That is a completely foreign thing as far as my body’s concerned. My body just doesn’t do that. It doesn’t understand that. It’s like it sees embryos as enemies. This may not be the case, but the point is, if he thinks I’m gonna conceive naturally someday, he’s kidding himself. He’s too smart to have these conflicting beliefs he says he has. I don’t think he really believes what he says he does. I think it’s his way of conning me. It’s easier for someone to go into denial than it is to face a situation and try to change it for the better. He also knows, though, that he’s not alone anymore. I don’t want a child any more than he does. I still say I could never have handled it, it would’ve caused major conflict between us constantly, and stolen our lives and freedom. This is another reason why he’s in denial and not eager to see if there really is something wrong that hasn’t been detected yet. This is why he doesn’t cum. Not that I’m not OK with this attitude, I’m just stating the facts here. He used, to his advantage, how I talk about meant to be and not meant to be. He said that if it was meant to be, it’d happen naturally. Oh, I’m sure he’s right. However, I was meant to have an ear canal too, but only through surgery. Not naturally. Nonetheless, I believe what he believes. For me, if it were meant to be, it would’ve happened by now and it would’ve happened naturally.

The peak of our arguing and analyzing our beliefs came when I threw one of my dog mugs and smashed it against the bedroom wall and said mean things to him. Right before this, he stormed out of the room swearing. Then he came back and apologized and insisted he help pick up the mess. I know it was wrong of both of us to go off, but like I knew better, I should never have brought it up. God, how I hate having such a curious mind and loving to analyze things left and right!

Even up to this day, I don’t believe him when he says he can’t help his not cumming. Forget about whether or not I accept the cumless sex and have come to be used to it, forget about whether or not I want a kid. The point is, I always thought he was lying and I still do. There’s got to be a reason for this. I can’t be so sure he’s been lying to me about this for years without a legit reason. Again, there’s no such thing as being able to get hard but not cum. If you can’t cum, you can’t get hard. I could do another five years of asking myself why he won’t just admit his fear of cumming and ask that we use some method of birth control, regardless of how sure I am that I can’t conceive naturally, but I have to trust that he has his reasons for sacrificing cumming altogether with his own wife. I don’t want to be accused of trying to control/change him.

Then the dream came. I’m still not sure whether or not I was asleep, or if this was just a dream or something more, but it was my maternal grandmother Shirley G. She came and sat down on the side of the bed beside me, and in her no-nonsense tone of voice, informed me that the choice is now mine. God’s given me a full bag of rights as a woman. I must be sure I don’t want a child, cuz if I don’t heed her warning, so to speak, consequences could result.

I’ve thought about it and thought about it, but it makes no sense. Why would God suddenly hand me my rights as a woman? All my rights as a woman? Why now? Why now when we’re in the middle of moving? This would be an awful time for that. It wouldn’t fit into our lives now. Why would he think I deserve the rights? Why would he think I could handle them? Why would he stop looking out for me? God wouldn’t let me get into something that was not right for me, that I couldn’t handle, that wasn’t meant to be, whether it was intentional or accidental. So I chose to ignore this dream, this whatever it was, for two reasons. One is that I know I’m not meant to have a child. Two is that he quit cumming. So as long as he refuses to cum out of sheer stubbornness and fear, I’m not about to conceive at all. This, though, will be a sign as to how right I am about it not being meant to be. If he stays not cumming, all the more I know I’m right. Then again, it’s not like he’s never cum before, or that other guys haven’t, so does it matter if he cums or not? No. Destiny is destiny is destiny. Period. I don’t know my full destiny. But I know parts of it. A child isn’t part of it. Trust me. His not cumming is simply part of God’s orders that said my sex life shall be hexed, just like he ordered me to be short and brunette. If I were suddenly with someone else, male or female, they too, would have a problem.

Ironically enough, though, is this spotting for a few days when I’m approximately mid-cycle. The spots seem to have stopped. Guess I’m not gonna go into a full flow anytime too soon. Anyway, I have had times where I’ve spotted for a few days a week before my period, but if I get my period in a week, that’s still pretty damn early. Is something changing? I get the feeling something’s “resetting” itself, so to speak, but I don’t know. I don’t see how this dream could have a single grain of truth to it. Like it or not, the choice was never mine. It was always God’s choice and it always will be. I don’t need to worry if he cums, I don’t need to worry about using birth control. I won’t lose my life to a child. I have too many other things planned for me, and as God knows, there’s only so much one can do at once or in their whole lifetime.

Andy says that since Laura’s moved out, his shit’s solid and the stress has really lifted. Yeah, I know. I know what that’s like. I went through that when he left the Woodside Terrace apartment.

I can only imagine how much fighting he and his friend Wendy will do along the way back east. By the way, they’re gonna stay in Outdoor Camps of America and save hotel money. Andy says that different people want to see him or do things with him when he visits, but as Andy himself admitted, he’ll be doing only what he wants to do. However, he’s been anything but selfish lately. No pigging out in my ear. No constant calls. I know Tom wouldn’t call him up and warn him saying, “Look. Be a little less selfish and back off if you don’t want to lose her,” so it’s made me wonder if he sensed what’s coming to him the day he was here getting the comforter and telling me about Stevie and Cheryl. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s sensed something and he is sort of psychic if you ask me.

Later…

Speaking of spotting, I’m doing it again.

Tom went for his eye appointment today to get a 6-month supply of disposable contacts. He missed contacts, but because he hasn’t worn them in so long, he has to get used to them again little by little.

Tom’s hip was bothering him really badly today. I don’t know if it’s arthritis starting, or if he pulled a muscle. I don’t think he knows, either. I just hope it’s better tomorrow so he can go to the track. As he said, it means a lot to him. I hope God will help give him the break he deserves. He’s been depressed cuz of not having enough free time due to all that has to be done.

There were some pieces of wood that were about three feet long and three inches wide. I don’t know what we were gonna use them for, but anyway, I’ve got them in between the bars of the rat’s cage so they can use them as little shelf beams to climb/sit on.

Mickey, Porky and Butterscotch all ended up bigger than Ratsy.

First I straightened Rapunzel’s hair, then I crimped it, and I just went and tried to curl it but it wouldn’t curl too easily. So I went to wash out what little curl I started, but it wouldn’t wash out. Not even the crimps would wash out. So, I’m just gonna leave her as she is.

This is the first manufactured home place that sent us a card urging and hoping we’d do business with them. It was that nosy Maria we saw the last time. The card said: The friendship of those we serve is the foundation of our progress. We truly appreciate the opportunity to assist you with your upcoming housing change. We sincerely want your business and we intend to earn it.

Do they? Well, I’m hoping they will. They got the best house yet. I really like the floor plan of that last house we saw.

Saw a documentary last night with different people’s points of view on why they believe the world may end in 20 years and why they believe it may not. They talked about the different sources that believe we’re in the last days and why, as well as those that feel life will go on. I would say our biggest fear shouldn’t be the antichrist, global disasters such as fire, floods, earthquakes, tornadoes, title waves or war. I think that if anything ended the world it’d be a falling asteroid, comet or meteorite. It’s happened before and it’s what most believe is responsible for killing the dinosaurs. Anyway, life will end when it ends.

THURSDAY, APRIL 15, 1999 Evie’s being her typical self with the health problems - had to have a hose with a camera down her nose and throat and into her vocal cords - yuck! How can anyone have a hose down their throat and not gag it up? I could never handle that!

The city van was next door again today. I can’t say how long they were there but they left at the same time as yesterday at 4:00. Also, a white car was parked in the front of the house while they were there. There was no writing on this car and it sort of looked like one of the cars that would visit the bitch. I wonder if the city called her bitching about the yard she supposedly trashed, she denied it, then came over here to see the stuff she’s supposed to have left here.

So, I guess the new assholes will be here by May 1st and so we’ll have to deal with whatever shit and noise they bring for a few months. Better than a few years, though!

Later…

Talked to Paula earlier. She said she wonders if she could’ve written the package address out to N. 21 St. instead of Ave. Yeah, that’s something she may’ve done. Anyway, she said she’ll put a trace on it and that the store still has those dolls, so if I don’t get this package, she’ll send another. However, I know it’ll never happen. I’m just not meant to get packages or pictures from her, and again, if there’s a doll in the picture, there’ll be a problem. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if I only got two or three out of the four dolls I got from the auction. I advised her, though, that if she’s gonna send any packages anywhere, she should use priority mail and not parcel post. Tom says priority mail’s not much more expensive anyway than parcel post. Parcel post takes forever, and of course, there’s always the possibility that this package will show up in a week or two from now.

Paula’s up to the usual - onto another Puerto Rican guy and already talking about moving again. She changes guys and apartments like we change clothes!

She says her stomach’s been on the fritz due to nerves. She fears having to go to jail and has to go to court on the 23rd. She says it’s mainly traffic stuff, but also, there were some stolen car parts that were supposed to have been in the new car she just got that she didn’t know about, but had no receipt to prove was hers. Something along those lines, but you can never make out exactly what the fuck Paula’s talking about half the time. I mean, she talks in disjointed sentences and half the stuff she says makes no sense. Anyway, I highly doubt she has to worry about jail.

Later…

Tom’s up now and is on his way to get us some fast food. I haven’t had any in a while and suddenly felt the uncontrollable urge to binge.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 14, 1999 A city van was next door for a while, but I couldn’t see who it was or what they were doing (I wonder if they hauled away the shit I threw over there?). There was a water truck over there yesterday. Guess they turned off the water, too.

Three of the dolls I got on eBay “supposedly” will arrive in about a week, give or take a couple of days. The other one is a person so we can’t use a credit card on them. We have to send them a money order, so it’ll take longer. I just hope these people are for real.

After the regular mail gets delivered today, I’ll call Paula to advise her to trace her package.

Yesterday morning at 9:30, shortly after I’d gotten up, I heard the phone ringing from the bathroom. As I went to answer it, I thought to myself about how I was gonna tell them, “I’m coming in today. Live with it!” However, shockingly enough, it was Dr. Brown’s office calling about the referral.

I got to the 10:45 appointment with no problem but didn’t even see Melanie. I wore the animal T-shirt I made too, just to show her, but all I saw was the doctor and Anne, the black lady. Anne said she was there but with another patient.

I’d been having irritation in a certain area of my gums and the doctor said it was because of one of the cavities I had. Food would get stuck in the hole in the tooth and it’d irritate the gums like a splinter. Since filling in the hole, though, I’ve had no discomfort whatsoever.

The doctor did my fillings and Anne did my braces. She said she only does it if she has to, cuz she’s too chicken. She said she was slow at it but didn’t want to hurt me. She was much slower than Mel, but so much gentler. She’s also much friendlier too, and I wouldn’t cry if I never saw Mel again and had to have Anne do my ortho. She was concerned with how I felt, not with getting the job done and over with in a hurry like Mel is, not that Mel doesn’t know what she’s doing. She knows her stuff, she’s just rough, and talk about impersonal!

A woman won $5,000 on the radio and Anne said she wished she could win $5,000 on the radio. I told her that if I did, I’d get new clothes since I haven’t gone shopping since losing weight, and she said she noticed my face was smaller. That was good to hear.

The UT pain, if that’s what it really was, was gone as of yesterday, but now I’ve got my period. Isn’t this a little early? Aren’t I like 10-15 days early? My body sure is a weird one.

I’ll take a break now, but later, I’ll get into the manufactured house we saw yesterday. For now, I’ll just say that it was the best house yet!

Later…

Tom’s home now after working 9 hrs. and 45 min. He’s beat.

I called Paula to let her know her package wasn’t coming but didn’t get the chance. She was busy, I guess, cuz she said she’d call back. No, the regular mail hasn’t come yet, but I know that if I haven’t gotten the package by 1:30, it’s not coming. He would’ve delivered his packages for the day already. Also, a parcel post package has had plenty of time to get here, so it obviously isn’t coming at all. I wonder, though, if this stupid shit of a mailman doesn’t let his packages sit for a while. I think the lazy fuck lets his packages sit and build up at the PO for a while before he delivers them.

Later…

I was right - no package. I’m just not meant to get mail from Paula B! This is the second thing she’s said she sent me that I didn’t get. Either she’s a very good liar, or it’s just not meant to be. I really think it was misdelivered, so Paula ought to call her local PO and get her money back. I’m totally hexed anyway when it comes to packages. Especially when there’s a doll involved.

Tom told me that Falling Star’s coming priority mail, not parcel post. So, if the woman mails her out today or tomorrow like she said she would, then it’s guaranteed to take only 2-3 days to get delivered. She should be here Saturday or Monday, but we’ll see.

A city van’s next door again. Can’t tell if it’s the same van, but I saw a different guy over there. He was at the water control that’s in the front yard, maybe turning the water on or off.

Later…

The van’s still over there. Must be a big job. The freeloaders no doubt trashed the place.

I set Bailey up in a totally new pose and new place. I brought a stool out and put it right by my computer. At first I had Rapunzel on it, but then I put her in Bailey’s usual spot on the stereo speaker by the TV, then put Bailey on the stool by the computer. I have one of her hands reaching out for my pen holder. It looks really cute. I still can’t believe how beautiful and realistic this doll is!

I just left Paula, who’s never punctual about returning phone calls, a message. At first, a friend of hers answered saying Paula was out, so I asked that she ignore the phone and let me call right back and leave a message. I let Paula know the package never came.

Yesterday after the dentist, we went to Palm Harbor’s factory lot. We met with a Spanish woman first, who talked too much and asked too many damn questions (had to ask twice if we had any kids), then we only saw one house, cuz this was a new lot that wasn’t fully set up yet. That was fine, though, cuz this was it. This was the perfect house! I loved its layout. The master bedroom is still separate from the other three bedrooms but in a different way. Usually, the other three bedrooms are at the end of the house with two next to each other and one across from them. These were all in a row, though, and what I liked was that the master bedroom and the room where I’d have my computer were away from where the TV would be (even though Tom and I both like headphones better).

The house was 2100 square feet and priced at $68,000. It had a retreat that was almost like a room that’s off of the master bedroom and a walk-in closet big enough to put two twin beds in.

What may be a plus to this place is that you can get a realtor to not only get you land for your new house but also sell your old house. As Tom said, if they had their way, our house would’ve been on the market as of yesterday. It was also nice that certain things were included in the base price that weren’t included in the bass prices of other models we’ve seen. ACs and dishwashers are included. Other things are, too. We’d even save money on this model. This model has 3 baths and we only want two.

Using three different programs, I scanned the layout in, then erased the furniture they drew in and put my own in.

It’s almost 4:00 now and the city van’s still here. My vibes don’t really say anything, but this isn’t a good sign - his working this long. Show’s he may be in a hurry so the new batch of rude, selfish assholes can move in.

No one’s discovered the lock yet. I’ve got two more locks to go, though, so if this one gets cut off, I’ll just try again. Unless they cut the net off. If they cut the net off, I’d have to get a chain to tangle around the hoop to block a ball from being able to pass through it, and since we should only have 3-5 more months left here, it wouldn’t be worth the time, money and effort. Thank God we’re moving this summer, though, and I hope that since God knows that we’ll be moving this summer, he won’t be so determined to get someone really noisy in there. I know, though, that we’re not gonna beat the new people and that it’s still gonna be noisier than most houses on this street, be it cuz of kids, dogs, or bass. That’s just my kind of luck.

Later…

The van just left. There were two people this time. I didn’t like how slowly they were backing out. I thought for a minute they noticed the lock in the net and were contemplating stopping to cut it out before leaving. So, they were there for about 2½ to 3 hours. I’d say, by the number on the van, that it was the same one that was there when I got up at 11:00 that didn’t leave till noon.

I don’t understand why the sudden pause in my metabolism. I swear to God - I just think of food and gain weight! I’m still 110 pounds and haven’t eaten hardly anything in the last two days. I did slip down to 108½, but not for long. That’s what I woke up at, and how I gained a pound and a half from a 400-calorie bowl of soup, water and coffee, beats me.

I can’t believe I’ve got my period now, although it’s not a full, regular period. I’m spotting. I would absolutely love it if my plumbing went on the fritz and needed to be removed so I wouldn’t have any more periods! Especially since I don’t want a child and know I’m not meant to have one, although I knew that for most of my life. At the same time, though, I don’t want to go through the pain and hassles of surgery. The fewer health problems and trips to the doctor, the better, but who doesn’t feel that way?

I still wonder what, for sure, is this monthly pain about. Why the same time every month? They say you can bleed a little when you ovulate, but I never have. I wouldn’t feel slight cramps in my uterus like I do right when a period’s starting if it were just a case of ovulation. Also, like I said before, you’re supposed to rotate from ovary to ovary. Since I’m hexed and controlled plumbing-wise, no matter how normal any test results are, maybe I’m suddenly ovulating on just the side that the pain’s been on and maybe the ovary wall is opening up more than normal and causing the pain. Maybe instead of releasing just one egg and rotating between ovaries, I’m now ovulating on just one side and a bigger hole is forming in the ovary wall cuz more than one egg is coming out. Maybe a lot of eggs are coming out.

If I prayed for my plumbing to fail and need removal, I wonder if God would grant me that. He might. I still can’t believe he never saw to it that I needed a hysterectomy years ago. This is the only thing that makes no sense and that doesn’t fit into his plans to keep me childless, like it or not, normal-appearing or not.

Anyway, I’m saving cranberry juice for if this happens again next time I’m almost mid-cycle. If this keeps happening for too many months, I may need to see a Dr.

Later…

I went and peered over the wall. My shit’s still next door.

I asked Evie how long the forwarding rules are and she said they forward mail for up to a year. Yeah, but can I trust this carrier to forward her mail? I hope so! If it’s meant to get to her, it will.

Saw bits and pieces of Titanic which is now on HBO. It was just as entertaining, scary, and sad as the first time I saw it.

I called Paula again, who was busy with a friend and who swears she’ll call me back at 8:00 my time, but if I don’t hear from her shortly after then, I’m not waiting on her. I’m gonna go listen to music.

MONDAY, APRIL 12, 1999 Believe it or not, I may have five dolls on their way to me counting Paula’s (if Paula’s ever gets here. There’s always a problem getting packages to me when there’s a doll involved)! We registered yesterday and had the winning bid on two of the six dolls we bid on and it looks like I’ll have the winning bid on another doll in a couple of hours! We even won where we lost, too. They had this beautiful Indian doll up for auction but we got outbid. Nonetheless, the lady selling her sent an email saying she had another one like her that we could have for our $46 bid. We bid between $20-$35 on the others. So far, we were the only bidders for the two we won and the one that I’m almost sure we’ll win today.

The Indian doll’s name is Falling Star, but I don’t know the names of the other three. She’s kneeling on a bearskin rug and has a nice outfit for being an Indian outfit. Most Indian outfits suck. She’s 12” kneeling.

The first one I won yesterday has green eyes and brown hair and is 22” tall. She has a burgundy dress on with white lace.

The second one has blue eyes (I think) and blond hair that’s up. She’s another ballerina doll with a gorgeous blue dress. She’s 16” tall.

The one we’ll win today has I don’t know what color eyes, and blond hair in two braids. She’s 18” tall. She’s wearing a floral dress of some kind that’s hard to describe without seeing it in person.

And I thought I wasn’t getting any more dolls till we moved!

Later…

Sixteen years ago. That’s how long it’s been since I jumped and broke my arm.

Anyway, to speak of more pleasant things - Falling Star should be here next Wednesday or Thursday, but for me, she’ll be here no earlier than next Saturday.

We still haven’t been able to get ahold of one of the sellers by phone that we got two dolls from. The last person we’ll be sending a check to because they’re not a business so we can’t use plastic on them.

We’re thinking of selling the other Giselle we got at this auction.

If I don’t get Paula’s package by Wednesday, I’ll call her and tell her to put a trace on it.

Tom made the appointment with the spit doctor for me to have my ear cleaned out, hoping that they’d be the ones to get the referral from Dr. Brown. Other doctors get through to other doctors better than we non-doctors do. However, the spit doctor’s office told us to get the referral. We tried for the second time, but haven’t had any luck. This is the third time they’ve said they’d call us back about a certain matter and they never did. I’m changing regular doctors. I’m sick of this shit. If you’re my doctor, I expect you to call me back when I need something.

I’m also getting fed up with the dentist’s shit. As I knew would be the case, the secretary left a message asking if I could come in at 10:45 instead of 1:00. I was pissed, cuz 1:00 would’ve been perfect for me. So I called back letting her know I was getting really frustrated. She said the doctor had crowns he had to do. Then why’d they schedule my fillings in at that time if he knew he had crowns to do? Stupid shits! And the sad part of it is, is that in just six months I’ll have to play this game all over again. I think that once the braces come off, it may be time to think about getting another dentist. I just hate to give up the quiet waiting room and getting in on time.

Got some really nice new screensavers for a change. It was time for more variety. I got cats, dogs, waterfalls, and psychedelic screen savers that are really cool. Tom also installed a utility that allowed me to delete screensavers I didn’t like.

This is really weird. Totally curse-like. Like something’s hexing my mice. Well, some of them. Anyway, now Patch has a tumor developing. It’s in the same spot; on the hip. It can’t be hereditary cuz Cocoa and Patch aren’t related. Spot wasn’t related to Patch or Cocoa, either.

Unbelievably, I didn’t get a call from Andy all weekend. He didn’t even respond to my message I left last night telling him about the dolls I won, but that may’ve been cuz he was jealous that we have that much money to spend on stuff like that. This is nothing new for him. Whenever I leave messages about something really neat we got, I don’t seem to hear from him right away, and when I do, he never mentions it. He doesn’t mention most of the things I tell him anyway, cuz he’s either too stoned to remember them, or he just doesn’t care. Too wrapped up in himself.

Not that I’m complaining, since I’m not a phone person, but can Andy sense what’s coming to him? I wonder if he subconsciously senses that I plan to faze him out of my life when we move, cuz ever since I made up my mind to do so, he’s backed off.

The freeloaders haven’t come near the house or called, so unless they’re thinking about waiting a few months to try to look less obvious, which I highly doubt, they really are a thing of the past, and guess what? I was in their house today.

I saw a city van over there, so I went over there. A guy all by himself was there. I asked if the house was sold, or re-rented. He said he didn’t know anything about it. Just that they didn’t have new people at the moment ready to move in. I asked to see the layout, and it sure is different, but it’s not a two-bath. It has just one. The layout’s much nicer than ours, except that they don’t have the nice big room we’ve got in back. The bathroom’s longer, and so’s the living room. I like how the kitchen’s in sort of an alcove-like area. Also, I like how you can’t see into the bedrooms and kitchen (just the eating area) from the living room. I like how the rooms aren’t as connected as ours. We have such a little L-shaped hallway where our bedrooms are that one of the bedrooms is practically an extension of the living room. From their living room, the bedrooms are down a straight hallway. They had these mini sunken shelves in one of the living room walls. It may be nicer than this house, but it sure as hell is a dump compared to what we’ll be living in this summer!

Just like I attract the sexual weirdo, I attract the paranoid. Tom’s almost as paranoid as Andy. He said not to ask workers over there too many questions about the house so as not to attract attention to us. Like we should care? Who gives a shit who’s paying attention to us as long as they don’t do anything to us and we don’t do anything wrong?

I’m sure it won’t do me any good, but I asked Evie if David could get me the bitch’s new address (not in those words, naturally). I also asked if we were right about mail being forwarded for up to six months. Watch. With my luck, she’ll reply saying that they just changed the forwarding rules to three months.

I can’t believe I’ve spent a whole year being hungry most of the time and struggling as I have just to lose a lousy 15 pounds. I realize more and more that I not only would have to starve to get down to 100 pounds, but I’d have to keep on starving just to stay there. At this age, as soon as I had just one bite, I’d fly right back up to 110 pounds. Until the time comes that I let my body have the food it needs and craves, even if that’s 3,000 calories worth a day and 50 more pounds, it has to be all or nothing. Trying to minimize my food just doesn’t work, cuz one bite leads to another and another and another, then before I know it I’ve had 1,500 calories that day. That’s a good 500 too much to be losing weight on, so it’s either don’t eat at all or eat what I need to eat since I can’t puke up my food. I don’t see how that would do me any good even if I could, cuz if I ate, satisfied my hunger, then lost it, wouldn’t I just be hungry all over again? The way to lose weight and keep it off, and the only way to lose weight and keep it off, is total or near starvation. I have to ask myself - do I want to look like shit or feel like shit? I feel like shit when I don’t eat, but I’ll really look like shit if I do eat and gain weight. Then again, I look like shit right now at 110 pounds. I look like I’m 125 pounds. I’d have to get down to 90 pounds to look like I did the last time I was at 100 pounds.

Later…

I just called Andy to see if he wanted to talk. Sure enough, he had a mouthful of food when he picked up. So I let him finish eating while I went to make coffee and said I’d call him back in five minutes. But then when I called just now, he didn’t answer. Guess he’s still stuffing his face.

Later…

I spoke with Andy for about an hour. God, he is so hard to talk to! He keeps budding in, and where are his brains? This guy’s not exactly stupid, yet he couldn’t get half the things I said. What made it harder for him to understand things I’d say were his constant interruptions so I couldn’t even finish explaining things to him in the first place.

He asks why I get upset that he brings up God every single time we talk. It doesn’t upset me, it just gets old. He has a right to talk about what he wants to, though, even if I disagree with half the things he says.

Michelle’s finally lucked out with this feminine, stable schoolteacher. She’ll get dumped. It’s just a matter of time.

Andy had a friend named Wendy whom he met here that moved to New Hampshire. He says she’s gonna drive out in her van the third week in May and together they’ll drive back there. After about a week, he’ll fly back here. I’ll believe it when I see it.

SATURDAY, APRIL 10, 1999 Took the phone off the hook to give me a break from the slew of sales calls we get that are now even coming on Sundays. The one and only day I had to look forward to being free of these calls. Also, Andy didn’t call last weekend, so you can bet your ass he’ll make damn sure he does today, no doubt with food stuffed in his pig of a mouth.

This has got to be the most stress-free weekend I’ve had in a long long time! No freeloaders! No freeloaders to slam doors, bass the house walls, scream and yell, thump balls! I love it! God, please keep that lock on that hoop and the place empty till we move!

Tom was shocked they didn’t come to clean last week and wondered what the point of waiting was. I wondered that, too. Maybe they’re planning on selling it, cuz you’d think that if they were keeping it as a subsidized house, they’d be in a hurry to get the next batch of assholes in there pronto, what with how the waiting list is so long.

If the freeloaders are gonna do anything to the house, although I don’t sense it and I highly doubt it, it’d be this weekend, since that seems to be when these sick fucks have more time, and I know these assholes are still in the valley, judging by how long it took the cock to make trips back and forth. They’re probably no more than 15 minutes away.

I still can’t believe they moved! Their rude antics are over. They’re really over. Now all I have to do is wait and see if we get rude, loud renters, or an owner with a dog or two that never shuts up. I know there’ll be kids in the package either way. The mistake turned out to be OK to live next to. It was all her little cousins or whoever the fuck all the kids were that came over to play ball that was a problem. Meanwhile, I don’t have a bad vibe coming from next door, so if the next people really are noisy in any way, I guess they’re not due in anytime too soon.

God, just please let the bitch get my stuff when we move!

Tom and I had our usual cumless sex this morning. I forgot the KY, so I was a bit dry. I swear I’ve really dried up down there! I wonder, though, if something’s wrong with me. Shouldn’t I be upset that sex has become so mechanical? I mean, we just go through the motions at this point without any real feeling. I guess I’m OK with it cuz he’s OK with it. Besides, you know how he is when it comes to sex. He’ll admit to almost any non-sexual problem and even try to do something about it, but he’d never see this as a problem, let alone admit it and seriously try to fix it. That’s another way I can tell he’s deliberately afraid to cum. If it were truly out of his hands, wouldn’t he want to get help? Wouldn’t he want to try to fix the problem if it were truly a “problem?” To me, though, this is good cuz once again, it not only keeps the sheets clean, but it’s still better not to hold that gun to one’s head, even if you know it’s unloaded. So, even though I know God’s on my side and that it’s not destined that I conceive, why take risks? If I want out of my so-called womanly duties and if I want freedom in this life, it’s only fair I do my part and not stick it all on God, even if God’s supposed to be able to do everything and anything.

Woke up yesterday at 106 pounds, and sure enough, I couldn’t shit. My body’s definitely resisting going under 105. It does everything it can to get back up to 108-109 which is usually by holding onto its shit.

I don’t know what the real package deal is with Paula. She’s a lot like Fran. Remember how Fran said that if you were 16 you were born in 1985? Well, Paula says she mailed the package last Friday when we spoke, so I should’ve gotten it a week ago. No, Paula, I shouldn’t have gotten it the exact same day you sent it. She said she got the thing insured, though, so that’s good.

I’ve got my leg weights on now, but sometimes I have to take a break from them cuz of the pressure they put on my ankles.

When we move, I’ll be walking again on the walker daily. I’m also trying to be consistent with exercising my upper body every other day and my lower body every other day.

Tom found a “spit doctor” online for me to see to have my ear cleaned properly. He should have the same knowledge as Nielsen. His name’s Daspit.

He also found this great auction online with dolls. You can get three 16” dolls for just $20 or $30! Even less! It seems that most of their dolls are 16”. Haven’t found any biggies yet. I may sell dolls this way in the future, too.

Later…

I don’t fucking believe this, but this is the third month in a row I got a UT infection right before mid-cycle! Is it truly a UT? Something else? Is there a connection to the timing? I don’t see how it can be my ovary. It’s too high, and besides, aren’t you supposed to not feel ovulation, and rotate ovaries every month? Well, all I can do is live with it and hope for the best. I’m drinking lots of cranberry juice.

Later…

Today the renters made up for the freeloader’s lack of door slamming. I’ve never seen so much company over there! Thank God they’re across the street and not next door. There had to have been 20 people, both adults and kids and about 7 vehicles and 2 motorcycles. I can’t believe there wasn’t any music of any kind.

Tom’s taking a nap right now. Earlier he went to Sears and got a sandblaster, a drill, and some other things. He got himself a camera bag yesterday.

He filled in the two holes in the back room ceiling. He did an incredibly good job so amazingly fast. Just maybe it won’t take longer to prep after all.

I got what I wanted by backing up my schedule to make it easier to get to my Tuesday appointment (unless they cancel) but not without a real doozy of an allergy attack. Yesterday was one of those days I have every one to two weeks where I just can’t stop sneezing. I had gotten up at 10 AM, and by 4 PM I wimped out and took a Benadryl. It didn’t knock me out, though, or dry up my nose. It just dried up my mouth and made me groggy. I still sneezed periodically, so at 8 PM I took a second Benadryl and was asleep by 10 PM. I got up at 6 AM. The good thing throughout it all was that my lungs were so open. I swear, if it isn’t my nose, it’s my lungs. If my lungs aren’t tight, they’re congested.

Tom and I were browsing online for screensavers. I got some really beautiful colorful ones, and one with pictures of waterfalls.

He told me the name of another search engine I may want to try out. Yeah, but as soon as God sees me doing a no-no by looking for pictures of Gloria, or whatever other women, crash it goes.

THURSDAY, APRIL 8, 1999 Tom left me a message saying he’ll support whatever I choose to do as far as Art goes, and not to sound defensive of Tammy, but it’s in Tammy’s nature to be a pessimist and hype things up to the worst possible case scenario (concerning her saying he’s ill). True. She’s even more of a pessimist than I am. Tom says to remember that he will die someday, so as long as I’m at peace with whatever I decide, that’s what counts. True again. My being in contact with them won’t keep Art from dying, though. We’re all gonna die someday. And yes, I’m at total peace with myself for cutting these people out of my life. No matter how old or ill they are, they’re still detrimental to my mental health. Even if we could all get along from here on out, which could never be a fact, the horrible memories that are attached to these people are things I don’t need, and I could never fully trust these people again. My life here with Tom in Arizona is too wonderful to mar with these people of the past that I associate with rather traumatic events. Tom and I may still have problems in life like everyone else, but what I’m at peace with is moving this summer, being with Tom forever, and not having anything to do with Dureen, Art, Larry, Tammy, and Andy. I understand, though, that some things are subject to change. The doll-making may bomb and Tom may continue to have shitty job luck. However, whatever happens is God’s will, I believe, and for a reason. I’ll keep in touch with Paula, but I’m not going to give Bob our new address/number. I may not even give them to Kim either cuz once again, I respect my husband and I don’t want to risk trouble for us. I want to stick around to see if Kim will get her lifelong dream of having kids, I love most of the jokes she sends me, but once again, it’s a matter of weighing the pros and cons. It’s more important that I don’t chance her coming between us than it is for me to get her jokes and watch her dreams come true or be denied by God. Kim and I don’t have much in common and this is someone I’ll probably never see again. Even if she lived next door to me; she’s never home, so we wouldn’t have much of a friendship. I’ll just wait and see what I feel like doing when we move. I think, though, that it’d be best for me to basically start over with a clean slate. New house, new land, new people, new life, so to speak. Tom’s not gonna be someone I met after moving and I’m still gonna be me, but you know what I mean. If I make a new friend after moving, and that friend’s good to me, then fine. Meanwhile, I could sit and write the cons to my family all day and have any pros written in just seconds. With Tom, it’s just the opposite. There’s no comparison. His biggest faults are that he makes disgusting noises when he eats, snores, is a disorganized clutter-slob and is a dysfunctional bore sexually (except for when he goes down on me). Big fucking deal, huh?! Meanwhile, I could be here until our anniversary writing his pros.

Later…

I’m having trouble controlling my food. I’ve been having between 1500-2000 calories per day, and already, my weight’s slowly but surely climbing. Woke up at 110 pounds today and I could be back to 125 pounds by June. No problem. I realize more and more that getting down to 100 pounds is just a dream that’ll never happen unless I agree to nearly starve myself day after day after day. I ask myself again - is this worth it? Shouldn’t I just live life, eat when I’m hungry, and say so what if I gain weight? But how much would I gain? How much higher than 125 would it go? To 135? To 200?

Later…

Just let Shiny in to do some eating. Changed my mind about writing now. I want to go clean some wall hangings I packed, so they’ll be clean and ready to go in the new place.

Later…

Didn’t clean the wall hangings yet, but I sure did do a lot of other stuff. Tom was impressed. The closet that’s off the utility area in between the kitchen and garage was cluttered with a bunch of shit. So I junked what we didn’t want, and vacuumed it out really well. The city’s gonna have a field day with all the shit I threw over the wall.

Tom suggested the possibility of the bitch moving cuz she suddenly couldn’t pay her rent. If she couldn’t pay up, I’d think Bill or someone would’ve helped her. I think her time was up and that she had a 3-year lease. I’m surprised the city’s not anxious to get the house ready for the next tenant. Tom says that it’s not too easy to get a crew over there, so maybe they have to wait till a certain time to fix it up. I wonder, though, if this is a sign that they plan to sell it because, with the huge waiting list for those in need of subsidized housing, you’d think they’d be in more of a hurry to get it ready.

It’s gonna be so nice this weekend not having to worry about the freeloaders and ball games! I just hope to hell she gets my shit when we move!

I took down the old screen door in back, so that’s one less thing Tom will have to do, even if it’s a quick and easy job.

Tom’s fed up at work. Well, he’s been fed up, but he really let his boss know it today which he said felt good to do. He’s tired of all the overtime they’re throwing at him. He’s sure he can find a job where he only has to work 40 hours a week, and that this guy will ease up on him and then help him find another job within the bank since he has no one to replace him with, but I don’t know. I think it’s just destined that Tom works overtime no matter where he goes. Thank God there are laws, though, as to how many hours a person can work, or else this user he’s got for a boss would make him work 14-16 hour shifts. Again, though, we’re all pretty much compensated for the shit we go through, and every burden has its blessing. Meaning that we’re in for one hell of a paycheck! Still, they’re tiring the hell out of him and taking time away from him that he could spend doing other things. I worry about him. First I feared his mother would kill him and now I fear his boss will. Of course, I always fear God will take him away from me, too. Well, if God kills him, he’s gonna have to deal with me too, cuz I’ll be hanging in no time. Even if I could have all the money and stuff in the world; life isn’t worth it without him. I’d be too miserable to enjoy any house, money, or material things.

I’m just so glad God didn’t let us have a kid back when I wanted one, cuz we wouldn’t be where we are today. We’d have to wait 5-10 more years to move, I wouldn’t have these dolls or be going into doll making, and on and on and on.

I guess Minnie finally gave up on trying to call.

I put in a prayer for Kim to have the kid she wants (watch, God will grant my prayers for another woman to have a baby, but not for my own baby a few years ago) and although God seems to have a problem with allowing kids to go to people who’d make great mothers, I think she’ll have them. I don’t know if it’ll be by way of in vitro or adoption, but she’s got the looks, the money, and nothing that I can think of to stop her except for God. I know there are a few good-looking women who have kids, but I also know a pattern when I see one. It’s usually the fat, plain, or ugly ones that end up with kids.

Later…

Tom says I’m foolish to worry about this, but I know how destructive kids are. Therefore, I’m gonna put these dolls on high shelves or in boxes when it comes time to show the house. I know disrespectful parents will be coming in here with rowdy kids that the parents won’t keep tabs on. They’ll act like the kids are not even there while they tear the place apart.

I fazed Alex out of my email and buddy list. I hardly ever talk with him, and again, what’s the point? I know that to an outsider I’d seem like a cold person by dumping all these people, but trust me, I’m doing the right thing. I know I am. The only two that I’ll feel a little guilty over are Andy and Lisa, but what has to be done, has to be done.

No package today. I believe Paula when she says a package is on its way. Just by the way she said it, I highly doubt she’s lying. However, I think that if it didn’t get misdelivered, the ditz addressed it wrong. This is, of course, unless it’s parcel post and too soon to be here anyway. I left her a message about it.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 7, 1999 Tom did lock the net. I don’t know how securely, though. I get a nagging feeling deep in my gut that he may’ve made it easy to undo. Sometimes I think he gets a kick out of seeing things annoy me! Anyway, he was worried it’d draw attention and cause someone to do something about it, but I think that’s just his way of upping the chances of me wondering more often if someone will undo it, not that they might not anyway. I think that if the lock isn’t undone before, it’ll be undone when the new family moves in. And they’ll do it that day. The very day they move in. They won’t wait a week or a month or whatever. He said he couldn’t lock the net to the rim cuz it was too far of a stretch and that he couldn’t reach the rim like I thought he could. Maybe it is too far of a stretch to hook the net to the rim in a way a ball can’t go through, but why can’t he reach the rim? It looks like he can, anyway. Then he said something about having trouble locking the lock cuz it was old. This made me wonder if he deliberately didn’t lock it, but we’ll see. He doesn’t have to worry about it drawing attention. I can barely see it from the window. The rusted lock blends in really well with the rusted chain. The smaller lock would’ve shown up more, cuz it’s silver.

Later…

It’s barely 10:00 and already there’s been two sales calls. It is unfuckingbelievable! Today’s call came as early as 8:10. It’s gonna be so hard on me when I’m on nights, yet have to answer the phone in case it’s the Realtor wanting to show the house. I’m gonna be woken up a dozen times throughout my sleep. It’ll be just like the NHA! At least I don’t have to do that two dozen times a day for 4-6 months like I would’ve had if we had a kid. According to Tom, they’re doing this to everyone everywhere, and changing our number to an unlisted number won’t really curb the problem, cuz they dial randomly. If we got an unlisted number and he stopped giving our number out to everyone, then why wouldn’t it make a significant difference? Andy doesn’t get 5-10 calls a day. Andy doesn’t own a home and has a lot of magazine subscriptions or credit cards either, so I guess that makes a difference. Tom says they’re driving Mary crazy. She too, owns a house, has credit cards, and a listed number that’s been given out to the whole world.

I saw a nice white older lady out front planting something about five houses down. Now why couldn’t I have a nice lady like that, who’s no doubt quiet, with kids on their own, if she has any at all, living next to me? Why is it that of all the people on the block, the noisiest, rudest ones have to be next to me? If it isn’t Mormon chaos, it’s black trash. Although, this nice white older lady could have noisy grandkids that visit a lot, and a barking dog. I doubt it, though. Several of the houses right around ours are quiet as far as bass, kids, dogs, and constant vehicles go. If someone moves in before we move, and they probably will, God may not have them be as noisy as he normally would have if he knew we were staying here.

It’s hard to believe it’s all over. I no longer have to worry about some bass-thumping freeloaders next door waking me up. Not unless a new set of bass-thumping freeloaders moves in. It’ll be nice to be able to relax this weekend and not have to worry about what next door may do, and as far as I know, I don’t have to be interrupted by a ball game next door, even if there hasn’t been much hoop activity in about a year. Just these fucking sales calls! It’s not even 11:00 and there goes call number three.

Later…

I guess I misunderstood Tom. Yes, changing our number to an unlisted number and not giving it to anyone we don’t absolutely have to give it to will make a difference, but having this number unlisted won’t. Meanwhile, I took the fucking phone off the hook after the sixth call.

I just took my nosy little ass over to spy in the freeloaders’ yard. I still call it “the freeloaders’” place, even if it was never truly theirs. I pulled a chair up to the wall and stood on it so I could see over. What a tiny clothesline and even their patio seems smaller. Their yard is almost grassless. It’s like a dirt yard with a touch of grass. They have more space between the left side of their house and the block wall, so that may help to not amplify noise as much from the collies and from whatever, although you gotta be able to hear those dogs just fine, even if the wall’s not as close and even if they do have double-paned windows. The dogs are just a few feet away from their house. The reason they have more space between the bedrooms and the block wall is cuz they’re not on a corner. At one point the block wall curves in if you’re on a corner, but all the yards and houses are the same size. The yards are longer than they are wide. They’re about 120’ long and about 60’ wide. The houses are around 30’-40’ wide not counting garages or carports. I wish I could really settle my curiosity and break in there and walk through the place and see its layout. It’s very different from ours. It started off similar, but then, instead of adding a huge big room in back, they split the master bedroom in two and took out a little part of the living room to make a second bath. Even their front door is different. It faces the side while ours faces the street.

Here goes a school bus. You know, I never see kids that live at the collie house get on or off the bus. All the more I think they’re Mormons and that the kids are home-taught. But they don’t have more than 3-4 kids. Maybe she couldn’t have any more than that and that’s why they do daycare to sort of supplement things, although I don’t know if they’re still doing it.

Another day of weird weather. Is it really April out there? It’s cool and windy out there today. The barometer’s not that low, though. It keeps going back and forth between sunny and cloudy.

Later…

I knew it. It just knew it. It was only a matter of time. I knew telling Tammy not to push Art and Doe on me would do no good and that she’d start pressuring me to “do the right thing” and contact them. She’s such a contradicting asshole, too. In one breath she says she’s not gonna try to persuade me one way or another, but then she does. She tells me not to get huffy on her, but then when she saw she wasn’t gonna get her way, she hung up on me saying, “Goodbye, Jodi. I don’t need this shit.”

Does she know they changed their number and that I don’t know the new number? That’s beside the point, though. The point is that I’m done with Tammy now. Not when we move. The first thing she says is that our father’s ill and that she’s just giving me the knowledge which is mine to do as I choose with it (all the while she’s implying otherwise). She says she’s not buddy-buddy with them and never will be. She says that she and the kids “did the right thing” by talking to them. Yeah, well, like I tried telling her before - if “doing the right thing” means talking to a person like he is, I don’t want to “do the right thing.” Period. I’m not obligated to him. Just because he’s my biological father does not mean I have to associate with him or anyone else I don’t exactly like. He’s not as bad as his wife is, but to do away with one you have to do away with the other, too. I just don’t want anything to do with anyone associated with Tammy G or Larry or Art or Dureen O. Period. My mind’s been made up since last what? August? And it’s going to stay that way.

At one point Tammy asked how I was gonna deal with him dying. I told her I’m sorry if he’s in any pain or suffering in any way, but that people do die. Meanwhile, life has to go on. She has to live her life her way and I have to live mine my way and if that means I’m the selfish one - tough shit! And if she’s talking about my being included in their will, I’m not interested, I told her. Then she said that wasn’t what she was talking about. She was talking about my dealing with it within myself. I already did that months ago. I did it in my head, I talked about it with Tom, and I wrote about it. I weighed all the pros and cons and went over the reasons why it was best that I ignore these people. I’m not stupid, either. I know that people eventually die.

So I suppose Tammy will “do right” by going to Art and Doe’s funerals. I’m telling you, she and Larry, or she and Ronnie, or all three, are gonna get into a fight that could turn deadly (I’m sure macho Marty will have to be a part of it too, if he’s there). I just sense it, and you know what? I don’t want no part of it. I’m done with that life and with those people.

Watch, now Tammy will use the kids to get me to respond to and acknowledge her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she called up crying that one of the kids was in a crisis. It’s something she would do. She’s done it with Larry to try to get his attention. With me, she’ll probably use Lisa, and call up and say that she’s depressed, and suddenly, I’ll be the only one who can do something about it. Well, I’m not gonna give her the satisfaction of a reaction or a response of any kind, in any way.

Lastly, I’ll bet anything that Art’s not that ill. He may be a 68-year-old man with a bum ticker, but I know how Tammy exaggerates when she either wants attention or to get you to do something. She’s exaggerated health issues with the kids, Bill, and even herself. Do you know how many times Tammy might’ve been and was terminally ill? She’s always got a “fatal” problem or one that might be. Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure Doe and Art have another 10-20 years to go. I’m not saying Art couldn’t kick the bucket right now cuz of his heart, or that Doe won’t die in a few years of lung cancer from smoking for 50 years, I’m saying it’s unlikely that they’ll go anytime soon, but they’re still a closed chapter in my life, regardless of when they die.

Tom showed me how to get the word find to work. It wasn’t finding words that were in documents. He also set it up so I could number pages again. That wasn’t working, either.

Later…

I got to missing Steve the other night. Steve H from Woodside Terr. I wish, if only for one time, that I could see him and tell/show him just how wonderful my life turned out, and introduce him to Tom. I hope the guy’s happy, wherever he is, whatever he’s doing.

Still no package from Paula.

The new TV Guide came, and every now and then I check the horoscopes out. Mine’s wonderful and Tom’s is pretty good, too. My sister’s hits it right on the nose. I’d mail it to her, but she’s not worth the effort.

Mine - You can wish upon a star this week and start turning dreams into reality. Close relationships will flourish, and even those who have opposed you in the past (you mean God?) can be won over.

Tom’s - Someone in a position of influence seems to believe you’re ready for a step up the ladder (must be at work) and is willing to support you. Such a chance must not be wasted, even if it means massaging the egos of those for whom you have little respect.

Tammy’s - Something you discover this week will make you realize that there’s more to the world than the view from where you now stand (love that line!). It may encourage you to travel further afield or to simply broaden your outlook. Either way, you’ll learn more about life…and yourself.

Later…

Finally talked to Kim. She sure had a hell of a time of it. She was so depressed. Walt was diagnosed with a brain tumor, so here they were, sure he was gonna die and that Kim would be alone again after finally finding someone. However, it was a mistake. It might’ve been a mild stroke or something like that, but he’s gonna live. What a horrible thing to have to go through. At least there was a happy ending to this sad story!

She’s gonna have Invitro sometime soon enough. Not cuz she can’t get pregnant, but cuz Walt had a vasectomy and has a low sperm count. It takes 3-4 tries and is about $10,000 each. I’m glad I decided to forget about having in vitro and I’m glad I don’t want a kid! Hope it always is that way, too! Meanwhile, it’s been her lifelong dream to have at least two kids. I don’t know if they have to use some other man’s sperm. Maybe not. I think a guy with a vasectomy still makes sperm. It just can’t get to the woman. I just hope God will let Kim have her dream!

Just finished one of the puzzles I got. This is the second puzzle that had an extra piece.

Well, I guess I’ll go finish out the rest of my day with my book. I’m halfway through Night Stone and it’s great.

TUESDAY, APRIL 6, 1999 I still can’t believe that bitch up and moved. Tom was teasing me saying how much I miss her and that I’m not happy if she’s there, and I’m not happy if she’s not there. If I don’t have to deal with bass or dogs from whoever’s going in there next, even though it wouldn’t be for long, and if the bitch gets my shit - let her be moved. I doubt anything will happen to the house since it would’ve happened by now, I suppose. I’m not too shocked that they didn’t mess with the house, but I still can’t believe they moved quietly and that I didn’t sense it coming.

The city hasn’t come yet to fix the place up. I wish to hell it could stay empty till we move, but if the city keeps it, it’ll be refilled fast. May 1st the new people should be coming. The new subsidized trash. However, if I had to choose between the city selling it and the city keeping it, I’d rather they keep it and risk having it stay empty till we moved, which could be the case if they sold it. This is cuz it’s easier to do something about any problems we may have with the new people if the city owns the house. If the people are renting from the city, it’s quicker and easier to get results by mailing the city a letter. If they own, it’ll be harder to deal with them. I can do something quickly about a renter thumping its bass than with an owner’s barking dog that never shuts up.

We screwed yesterday, but he just wouldn’t or couldn’t get into it, and the sex was brief (this confirms my belief that his saying I was the one who wasn’t into it the day before, was just an excuse to get out of it altogether cuz he wasn’t in the mood). The way he acted afterward was so phony and obvious. It was so obvious that he was trying to butter me up afterward by tickling me and insisting I had a mopey look on my face. Did he want me to have a mopey look on my face? It’s his dick. If he wants it in me semi-hard, cumless, and not for long, that’s his choice. I just hope to God I never want a child again, cuz all I’d get is his stubbornness and his resistance to get off. He’d never fully cooperate and do all he could do to allow us a kid, and so then I’d end up not just madder at God for not allowing me the right to choose to have a child or not, but mad at him all over again, feeling like he’s controlling and manipulating me and conning his way out of cumming and having a kid. He still swears he’s not consciously or subconsciously keeping from cumming. Sorry, Tom. No one gets off as rarely as you do without a reason. There’s no such thing as a guy being able to get hard with no problem without being able to cum. You either can get hard and can cum, or you can’t get hard in the first place, let alone cum.

Later…

I saw an APS truck pull up in front of the freeloaders’ and I stepped out and asked the guy if the house was sold. He said he didn’t know what was going on. He was just there to turn the electricity off. Yeah, I didn’t think he’d know what was going on. This is a good sign, though, saying they’re not anxious to do any work over there right away and the things I threw over the wall (I’m sure they’ll assume the stuff was the freeloaders'). It’s just a few old odds and ends. Nothing major. A couple of old plant holders, the old foam mattress, and some old chicken wire we had surrounding cactuses to keep Bunny away from them.

Later…

Tom has an old lock that’s bigger than your average padlock, and tonight he’ll lock up the hoop. This will be even better cuz now he can lock the net to the rim and make it harder to break through. Tom was being his usual paranoid self, suggesting it’d draw attention. I don’t think so. And even if it does, how would that harm anything? If attention is drawn to a hoop that can’t be used, so what? Maybe this was his last feeble attempt at talking me out of it. I just hope he really does lock the thing up and doesn’t make it easy to be removed, even if we only have a few months left here. He says he’s gonna do it tonight, but I’m prepared for him to stall a night or two, making some excuse as to why it has to wait.

I still can’t believe that bitch moved! See what I mean, though? They shut up, they move. It’s always after they finally shut up that one of us moves.

Spoke with Andy earlier who’s up to the usual - food, pot, God, phones, music, and TV. He said he was slutting up a storm earlier, cruising the neighborhood and hitting on everything with a dick. Then he said he woke up the next day and realized he doesn’t need to be a slut with all the diseases out there, and that he has more class than that.

Later…

That was the fourth fucking sales call today and today I was in the mood to tell them off, but these last two hung up on me as soon as I picked up, suggesting maybe it’s Jenny C or someone with the last name O.

I’m having a lot of boredom spells lately. I can only read, write, and do puzzles so much. Maybe I should start a story. It’s just that I’m embarrassed by my writing and aren’t the greatest storyteller. I’m not as shy about my journal writing, but I am about stories. I regret ever sharing any past stories with anyone. I cringe with embarrassment at the thought of it. The only kinds of stories that appeal to me as far as writing one goes involve lesbian lovers. Romance novels, only it’s two women and not a woman and a guy.

Three black boys in their early teens just went around the corner thumping a basketball. I cannot believe they didn’t stop to play next door!

The kids, by the way, are in school. They do go on vacation sometime in April, though.

MONDAY, APRIL 5, 1999 Let me back up to Friday. Friday, we went to look at manufactured homes again at that place that has more than one brand. They didn’t have Shultz, though (the first ones we saw). They had Cavco, which was at the second place we went to, Palm Harbor, and Redman. We picked out a Redman house as our number one choice and a Cavco as our second choice. Palm Harbor, though, has these really cool-looking shelves built into the living room walls. They’re optional and called accent walls. They also have a lot of things I’m not sure what you’d call, but they’re high shelves/beams and would be great for plants and stuff like that. So, we narrowed down our favorite floor plans, then compared features between the different brands.

The guy there was so obnoxious yet so funny. Tom and I were laughing about him afterward. As obnoxious as he was, he was a very soft-spoken, easygoing guy. The last kind to go raping/beating a woman, and I was pleased to see he was a family man by the pictures he had in his office. This may not be God’s ideal type of man for a father, but I think the world needs more guys like this as fathers.

The obnoxious part of him was that he asked too many needless questions and he talked in slow motion. He also took forever answering questions and he’d sometimes dodge answering the question fully. He’d dance around the subject when I’d ask him the price of a certain model.

The funny part of him was that his expression never changed. He had a fixed grin on his face. Even after a minute or two of silently walking to a model, he’d still be grinning as if someone just said something so hysterically funny.

Then we went to JB’s for lunch, and oh my God! What a big mistake to go during lunchtime. The food was good, though, even if it was a bit greasy, but as my luck would have it, I was seated right next to a baby that screamed bloody murder. It was ear-piercing, brain-splitting loud, and neither of its parents seemed to give a shit or make an attempt to quiet the thing, although what could they do? A child is like a wild animal that cannot be tamed. Not for the first five years, anyway. I’m so glad I don’t want a child and that I can’t conceive whether or not one of us is sterile. I asked that we be moved and sure enough, the thing quieted down after we were moved several tables away.

Then we went to the grocery store, which also has a little department store connected to it. I got a purple T-shirt dress, a couple of cute puzzles, some different scents for my plug-ins (the vanilla smells like baby oil), a big long pink pillow for great back support, a pretty butterfly 3-D soap dispenser, and I think that’s it. The soap dispenser is clear plastic with butterflies on it. Then they inserted a clear plastic card inside with more butterflies and it looks nice. We looked at their soap dispensers, bathroom pails, and other things and they sure had some nice stuff. One of the bathroom pails they had was gorgeous. It had colorful flowers, mostly pink. I can’t wait to set up the new place! Can’t wait to pick out towels, bathroom accessories, dishes, etc.

Friday, Paula also called and I wonder if she’s gonna lose Justin, although I highly doubt it. If I weren’t her friend, maybe so, but since I am, God just has to keep that thing whining in the background while we talk. Every single fucking time we talk, it’s there! Anyway, she said they found a knife on him at school. Paula said they said it was a steak knife, but she says it was a butter knife he used to cut Play-dough with. But why would he need a knife of any kind to cut Play-dough with?

She said that what I said would happen came true about the guys in her life fucking her over. Part of seeing that was logic. You don’t need to be psychic to know what kind of guys Paula attracts.

Wonder if I’ll get the package she says she sent today. She seemed sincere enough and I can’t picture her lying about something like that. All I have to worry about is that she addressed the thing properly and that the mailman lets me have it if she did. She says she sent pictures (that were on their way when we talked on Friday) and that porcelain doll too, which she said is “arm’s length” for just $7. I think it’s really about 6”-8” tall, though, like the ones we saw for $7 in Walgreens.

Paula also says she’s gonna use some guy’s sperm to fertilize one of her eggs (she had her tubes tied) cuz she wants a little girl who looks like her that she’ll name either Nakita or Selena. Wait till she finds out this procedure costs many thousands of dollars and that her insurance doesn’t cover it.

There’s no for sale sign next door, but I wonder if there will be. That’ll depend on if the city chooses to sell the house.

I was out dumping garbage earlier. The two dumpsters in our alley were chock full and looked like a lot of the stuff in them came from the freeloaders. I saw that they put a table in the alley just outside their gate, and there’s some stuff on it, too.

Saturday Tom replaced the two broken light fixtures that were in the kitchen and utility area with new fixtures and fluorescent bulbs.

Saturday he also took out the old, ugly cast-iron sink from the bathroom and put in the nice new sink/cabinet. It’s so much nicer. There’s just one knob and you push it up to turn the water on, right for cold water, left for hot, and down to turn it off. It’s washerless, so it doesn’t drip. Next, we have to do the walls in there and put the vent in.

Yesterday’s attempt to screw was a bust. I just couldn’t get him firmed up. He said I seemed to be distracted and distant. That’s possible, but I thought I was getting him hard by hand and ready for sex the same way I always do, and I wondered if he was just using this as an excuse cuz he wasn’t in the mood. I wasn’t in the mood, so it turned out OK, and he didn’t appear deprived in any way.

Tell me I’m not hexed sexually and I’ll tell you you’re crazy. Already, one of the vibrators sort of broke on me. It suddenly died and I thought it was completely broken. I put it in the garbage before bed, then when he came in, he took it out and fixed it. He said, though, it’s either high speed or no speed cuz one of the wires inside it broke. But why must there always be a problem with sex and with vibrators? Can’t God just leave it alone? Just let me be sexually, God, just let me be. If I were smart I’d ditch Tom and the vibrators and just use my hand. It’s the only thing I can count on unless it gets chopped off in some accident.

Also, it’s not gonna cost $15 to mail the bitch’s shit to her. It’s gonna cost $3.20. Tom reminded me that you can send anything between a pound or two for $3.20. So, it’ll cost $16 to mail the five manila envelopes I’ll be mailing when we move. The bitch’s two envelopes and one for Andy, Larry, and Dureen and Art.

Tom’s gonna see about finding a doctor that knows ears like Neilson did so I can have my ear properly cleaned. It’s been bothering me lately and Tom could see it was clogged up. Don’t I have enough hexes, God? Hexed with the ears, the sex, toilets, cars, etc.

Later…

A kid of about 4 years of age is bouncing a basketball in the collie’s driveway. I suppose it’s a matter of time before she finds her way over to the hoop. The kids are on vacation this week, so hopefully Tom can get the damn thing locked up real soon.

SUNDAY, APRIL 4, 1999 I don’t believe it! I just don’t fucking believe it! The bitch next door moved! I didn’t even sense it either, and they’ve been so quiet about it, too. Why didn’t they bang up a storm and why didn’t I sense it coming?

Tom says not to worry, they won’t damage our house, and mail gets forward for at least a year when a person moves, so she’ll still get the writings that I worked so long and hard on for her. Well, I sure hope so! As long as nothing happens to the house and as long as she gets my stuff - fine. Let them move. Tom also says that even if they did do a little graffiti or anything like that, we have to paint the house anyway, so it’d be no big deal. I’m talking about them breaking windows or shooting at the house. That’s what I worry about, although I don’t have a bad vibe. Yeah, but can I trust my vibes anymore? I didn’t even sense this move. The two biggest questions that keep going through my head are why are they so quiet about it and why didn’t I sense it? Is this, combined with the fact that there were a million stereos to drive by yesterday, a bad moving sign for us? I still sense us moving this summer, but now, I can’t be sure of anything when it comes to moving. Tom says he’s 95% sure we can move this summer. Logically speaking, there should be nothing to stop us. Then, I’ll mail her the two manila envelopes I’ve got for her, then to do a test, I’ll send myself mail to this address to see if it really does get forwarded to me. There’s always a chance she didn’t leave a forwarding address and that she won’t get it, or will get it and won’t read my writings, and if that’s the case, it certainly wouldn’t be the end of the world, but after working so long and hard on it, I really would prefer that she gets/reads it.

I wonder why and where she moved to? It’s been exactly three years since she moved in. Could she have been on a 3-year deal with the housing people? Did he ask her to marry him? Is she moving in with him? Into another house? An apt.? And why was everyone so quiet about the move? Are they waiting for something? Are they biding their time for some reason? Maybe she’s still dependent on the city and that’s why they’re behaving. Tom thinks it’s cuz I’m not that big a deal to them and they’ve got better things to do with their time than harass me, and if they did anything to the house, it’d be too obvious that it was them.

I wonder, although I highly doubt they could’ve gotten evicted upon my third complaint, but I’d think that if that was the case the cock wouldn’t be almost smiling at Tom and that there certainly would’ve been some shit to go down around here by now cuz of it. I’m still not so sure the bitch and her cronies will still be willing to forget that I was the one that caused her to have to quiet down the music and have her boy toy move out, though. After thinking about it - wouldn’t I be pissed off at anyone who caused Tom to have to be away from me? You damn well better know I would be. I’d be furious and I’d want to get them for it somehow, some time, although I have to agree with Tom. They probably won’t bother with us.

Here’s how it went - at 9:30 yesterday morning, I saw a U-Haul pull up in front of the house. Just as the cock opened the door, Tom came in from the store and saw that the truck was empty, so that ruled out the possibility of him moving back in. I saw the cock looking at Tom, but not with any meanness. In fact, it was sort of a friendly expression. One that no doubt said, Glad to be leaving you. Now I can do whatever I want and be an asshole. Probably get away with it, too. The cock’s buddy showed up soon afterward in the Buick and spotted as the cock backed the U-Haul into the driveway. I also saw what I think was a dark green car pull in front of the truck, and some big black girl walk by. They loaded up for three hours. At 12:30, the U-Haul left and the cock returned at 3:30 with some little white guy with a mustache and a purple cap. I think the guy’s name was Dave, from what I heard. I heard him ask the cock if he had city sewer or septic tank and the cock answered city sewer. For a second I saw a blue Blazer and the bitch and the mistake. The Blazer wasn’t there long. Then, from there on out till at least 7:30 (I went to bed then) the cock’s car came and went as it took loads out of the house.

Today, the cock came at 9:00 with the little white guy (this is the first white person I’ve known them to associate with). A white van pulled in shortly after, 2-3 Mexicans jumped out, then cleaned the carpet. After the carpet was cleaned, they stood around chatting for five minutes, then the carpet cleaners left, followed by the cock and whitey, not too long afterward.

One of the living room blinds is now raised and I can see the living room surely is empty.

Tom agreed to take one of my old locks and lock up the basketball hoop on his way to work sometime this week. We’ll only be able to lock up the net part of it, but hopefully, no one will take the net off till after we move. If God’s on my side, he’ll spare me the ball games till then. It won’t be as easy to remove a metal link chain net, as it would be to just cut a nylon net.

Thank God I was on days this weekend, so I could spy on them and so I could sleep. I probably could’ve slept just fine yesterday, though. I never heard anything drop or go crashing around, but the carpet cleaning motor was a bit fierce. It’s got a serious rumbling sound to it.

Later…

I officially closed the freeloader’s file. I printed out most of what I wrote in my last entry and sealed up the bitch’s two envelopes (hers, Larry’s, and Doe’s and Art’s envelopes are now ready to go upon moving, except for Andy’s). Come this summer, she’ll hopefully have these forwarded to her (it sucks that I have to pay about $15 to mail this shit to her, but it’s worth it). I wrote in her file, though, that we were staying here now that she’s gone.

So what am I in for now? Will the place remain vacant for a while? Or will I get a new pack of subsidized freeloaders to have to deal with? Will the city sell the place to some nice white folks? Nice or not, will they have a dog I’ll have to listen to 24/7 just three feet away till we move? And how many kids? How often will cars be coming and going, and will there be any loud motorcycle-like engines? I just thank God we only have 4-5 more months to go, now that I’ve got to deal with yet another turnover over there. Although, in between the Ms and the freeloaders, the place was vacant for 6 months, so maybe it’ll stay that way till we move. Tom may be sure she’ll get forwarded her mail, but still, I wish she could’ve just stayed put for 4-5 more months to really be sure she gets my stuff and so I could save money getting it to her, too. If it’s to be a case of her moving and leaving the house alone, and her still getting my stuff, and being able to have the place empty till we move - then that’d be an even better deal. Especially with the hoop net locked up as an added bonus. I supposed the not knowing what’s to come next should be unnerving to me, but it isn’t. Maybe that’s cuz we’re moving.

Later…

I can’t believe Andy hasn’t called this weekend. Not so far, anyway.

Speaking of Andy, the day after his visit, I was about to tell Tom of his adventures with Stevie and Cheryl and told him that even though it was OK, the visit was all Andy, Andy, Andy. Just as I said that, the phone rang, Tom glanced at the Caller ID box, saw it said private, and goes, “Andy, Andy, Andy!”

As with Tammy, some guilt goes with my walking away from him. I know he’ll feel hurt at first, despite having not much in common these days. However, as I weighed all the pros and cons in my mind of staying involved with them, I still feel that the best thing to do would be to walk away.

Anyway, to finish my talk with Tammy. I covered the inevitable reunion with Dureen and Art, the asking that we visit, now let’s cover the shocking part. Tammy said I had to find religion and God at one point, and I thought she was joking. Tammy’s always been the least religious person I know. She said although she didn’t grow up with it, she’s been going to church with Mark. I asked if she was planning on conforming and she said she wasn’t going to till she was sure what she wanted.

I’m pretty surprised. I wonder just what she does in church and what she gets out of it. I’ll have to ask her some time what it does for her. I’ve never liked churches cuz of how they’re prejudiced. They badmouth gays and people who are different and send a message saying that if you don’t live by their rules, you go to hell. Tammy says it isn’t that way, but I’ve never seen or heard differently.

Looks like I got my rain wish after all, but why do I feel it’s only because they moved? I’ll bet if they were still here, it wouldn’t be raining. I can’t believe all this rain we’ve had.

SATURDAY, APRIL 3, 1999 Another Saturday on N. 21 Ave., but I don’t have a bad vibe. At least not for today I don’t. Also, although it’s doubtful, the freeloaders may not even be there. It’s too early to tell. The cock was here and Bill was gone as early as 1:00 yesterday. I had seen the cock’s trunk open at some point, then the cock left and came back. I then noticed the car seemed a little full, suggesting maybe, just maybe, they took off for the Easter weekend. I crashed too early to tell if someone was there at night last night.

Tom’s mom offered to buy him contact lenses. That’s very nice, but I sure hope she helps with the move.

Tom’s at the store now picking up stuff to prep the bathroom with. We also need to replace the kitchen and utility area light fixtures. They’re cracked. So he’s picking up odds and ends like that.

It’s not even 10:00 yet and there have already been three calls. One sales and two from Minnie.

Tammy called again and we talked. First of all, she did nothing wrong, but the things we discussed reinforced in my mind that making a clean break from her really is the right thing to do.

She brought up a couple of things I knew were only inevitable that she’d bring up sooner or later. Then she brought up something else that totally shocked me.

The first thing that I knew she’d bring up and that I knew I couldn’t be lucky enough to avoid forever, was wanting us to come for a visit since it’s easier for two people to go cross country than four or more. As I’ve written and as I’ve told Tom, who’s very supportive of me and of how I feel, I have no desire whatsoever to go back there. If it were a matter of snapping my fingers, being there, seeing them, introducing them to Tom, and showing him places I lived in, etc., then I probably would. However, I just don’t care to see her. I do miss Lisa and I’d love to see her, but seeing her isn’t worth everything else that’d come with seeing her. I mean, I’d have to go on a big trip, which I hate, worry about my schedule and being able to sleep, and worry that I’d run into Bill and kill him. I’d no doubt have to talk about people and subjects that I’d rather not discuss with Tammy, I’d have to deal with her pressuring me, her cigarette smoke, the unhappy memories that go with the place, and who knows what else?

I told her we’d be there in the fall or the winter, cuz of course, I certainly wasn’t gonna tell her that I plan on disappearing.

The other thing I felt would only be a matter of time is that from what she said, she’s already working Dureen and Art back into her life. Now, I don’t know how chummy they are, or if she’s on speaking terms with Dureen, but she’s sending Art a birthday present. At first, I thought she was joking when she mentioned it and asked if I was gonna send one. Then she actually came out and told me that I should cuz then I’d know I was doing the right thing. If sending a present to abusive people like that is doing the right thing, then I’d rather do wrong. I was really surprised to hear she was sending him a birthday present. I thought she said she was 100% through with both of them for what they’ve said and done to her for so many years. Me? If I’ve said it once, I’ll say it a thousand times - I’m 100% finished with them. Just cuz they created me, does not mean that I should be obligated to associate with them in any way shape or form after the years of abuse I took from them. I totally detest selfish control freaks who always have a problem with how people are, what they do, what they say, etc. I’d tell this to anyone and that’s that if you don’t like my husband or myself as we are, don’t bother with us, and don’t think we’re about to change our ways for you or anyone else. I also reminded her that I think it’s really sick when a parent pits one of their kids against another, and when they go to one kid about a dispute they had with another. It’s her life, but how can she send a present to someone who urged his son to call the state on her and who said and did the things he’s said and done to her and say she’s done the right thing? Well, to each their own, but I feel I deserve better than to associate with people like that, and I’d like to think I had self-respect by not doing so, too.

Tom brought up a very good point too, and I think he’s right. Sadly enough, though, this is human nature for most people, but money’s an issue here. When people get old and have money, they tend to stick around and put up with their abuse for it. Me? I’d rather be happy and with people who are supportive, non-selfish, accepting, and respectful. Tom said that Larry no doubt got the money for his business from Dureen and Art. I wouldn’t doubt it. That’s probably why he made a point of reuniting with them in 1993. Cuz he knew he wanted to go into business and therefore, why not get their help financing it? Isn’t it a little too soon, though, for Tammy to be kissing their asses and being all nicey? They’ve got another 10-20 years to go, sis. Is the money really worth putting up with another 10-20 years of abuse?

FRIDAY, APRIL 2, 1999 I can’t believe this weather! Yesterday would’ve been perfect for Easter Sunday. It rained all day long, and even when I got up a few hours ago, it was coming down in torrents! It went from being between warm and hot to being chilly and rainy. It seems like just when you think summer’s gonna work its way in, we go back to cooler weather. The wonderful thing of it all was that despite how long and hard it rained, not one drop leaked in here!! Not one!!

Tom says that if next door’s a normal family, they won’t do Easter here this year cuz they did it here last year. They’re not “normal” anything, and yes, they will. They know I can’t legally do anything about the ball playing, so why not? They’ll make sure they do it here on account of me.

Minnie tried calling again but didn’t leave a message. Kim did, though. I’ll call her today. I’ll call Tammy, too. I left her a message yesterday since it had been a while and she called back when I was listening to music. She said she was busy, she and Mark were opening a retail store, and the kids were fine. No illnesses or injuries? That’s good.

I can’t believe I woke up at 107 pounds today, which was what I woke up at yesterday, cuz yesterday I had to have had around 2,000 calories.

The Acutrim I tried was totally worthless in suppressing my appetite.

I like it when I accidentally learn new things on the computer. I discovered a way to bring up the statistics and all that on just my Word document files. That way I don’t have to weed through a bunch of shit I don’t use. I can delete files from here, too. What was weird, though, was that one journal file had 130 pages and 100,000 words, while another had 144 pages and 96,000 words. How can I have 4,000 fewer words with 14 more pages?

It’s so cool to look in the mirror and see even, white, non-smoker’s teeth!

THURSDAY, APRIL 1, 1999 I just went out back and could smell the rain in the air as soon as I did. The sky’s a mass of clouds and it’s drizzling out. I noticed the barometer was down when I got up at 2:00, but it will come up with the weekend. It really truly almost never rains on weekends, and if it does, it’s early in the morning. If I didn’t know any better, and if I believed in the power of prayer, I’d be on my knees begging God to have it rain all through Easter Sunday, but I know the weather will be perfect for a three-hour ball game, whether or not the bass is thrown into the package. If all goes as planned, we should have only two more big holidays here - Easter and Memorial Day. Once again, though, any day next door could be a major holiday and call for hours’ worth of ball thumping.

Although yesterday’s visit, not surprisingly, was Andy, Andy, Andy, it was a cool visit that I did enjoy. He didn’t call again or bring food, either.

I told him Tuesday would be a good day of the week for us to chat and that I’d fill him in some more on the houses then since I didn’t get a chance to tell him anything about it, cuz he had to leave for his appointment, although there really isn’t much more to tell till we know for sure what’s going on.

He was only ten minutes late and was baked, as usual. I should’ve known I was wasting my time by telling him that I hoped he’d visit sober. Remind me never to ask my “best friend” for a favor again!

He didn’t seem bigger like I thought he’d be, what with all the eating he does. Just in the gut. This is probably why the buttons popped off his shirt, too. I saw that they were in the gut area.

I first showed him my dolls, then the animals. He had trouble focusing, though, and I couldn’t get his attention to hold on to any one subject for too long. If I’d comment about the dolls, he’d ask about the rats. If I’d comment about the mice, he’d ask about objects in the back room. I was amazed, though, that he remembered Giselle, which I just mailed him a picture of.

Then he surfed the web while I sewed his buttons on. Then he went out back and smoked a cigarette. Then he came back in and told me about last night. He first asked me if I would write about it in my journal. I told him yes, and added to myself - and you’ll read it one of these days too. That’s still a maybe, though, cuz I don’t think Andy’s a big reader, and if he didn’t read the other journal - why read this? Maybe he will given the circumstances. It’s up to him.

It was when he went to tell me the Stevie/Cheryl story that he seemed to sober right up.

He said his friend Wendy from “New Hamster” called to tell him that it was just posted online that Stevie, a friend of Cheryl Crow’s, would be singing at Cheryl’s concert at an old high school in Phoenix that holds 2,000 people.

He called Barbara Nicks and asked if she knew Stevie was gonna be performing. She said no, and he told her he’d call her in a couple of days to let her know how it went. She asked that he call sooner, which he agreed to.

So he and Michelle went to the concert and traded weed for scalper’s tickets. They were $37 a piece if I heard Andy right.

On their way in, Michelle was told she couldn’t take her water jug in. Andy said he told her to just put it down and they’d get it when they returned while distracting the person so Michelle could weasel the jug in.

The concert then went on. Andy said he didn’t know most of the songs, but that Cheryl performed well and was really into it. At some point during the concert, he and Michelle got separated. Then Stevie came on in the end and Andy got to be the closest to her he’d ever been in his life (about 15’). He got 13th-row seats, but Cheryl kept everyone on their feet and I guess people were moving all around. He got right up to the stage. He said Stevie’s lost a lot of weight, and although she still had fat hands and fingers, she looked great. She wore an old, faded red pair of platform boots and her gold/brown hair was straight.

He said some fat guy with a bulging belly walked up to the front of the stage and just stood there staring at Stevie with no emotion whatsoever. Usually, when a guy gives a woman that sort of still, emotionless look, they’re raping or beating her within their minds.

Another weirdo was some girl up on the balcony who just couldn’t stop twirling around and around and around.

So after the concert, he hung around an area with a ramp that connected two buildings. About an hour and three cigarettes later, he saw Stevie with two relatives and a security guard shorter than she was, coming up the ramp. As soon as Stevie got within a five-foot range, he stood up from where he was sitting and said, “May I say hi to Miss Stevie Nicks?” She kept on walking, but called out, “Hi,” as she quickly glanced at him. Then he casually followed her a little way. Meanwhile, all the fans were in front of them several yards away, calling out to Stevie. From just behind Stevie, Andy yelled out to Michelle. Then Stevie and company got in a car and left.

He said he exchanged hellos with Stevie’s brother Chris, too, who went walking by at some point. I can’t remember what he said about this, but he gave him something. Some piece of paper that had to do with Wendy, but he didn’t make himself too clear about what that was all about.

Then shortly afterward, Cheryl and the same security guard came walking up the ramp (Cheryl was heading for her tour bus). Andy approached her when she walked by and told her she put on a wonderful show and was looking forward to a future album that she and Stevie were to produce together, and during the minute or two they spoke, the security guard was pulling her away from him and telling him he had his turn, while she was saying, “It’s OK. It’s OK,” and thanking him.

Then he decided he wanted a Cheryl T-shirt and asked the guy selling them if he’d be willing to trade for one. The guy asked what he wanted to trade, and after Andy hesitated in answering, the guy said, “You want to trade some hushables, huh?” So, Andy weeded his way into a shirt, and now he just may have one more customer to deal to and to risk ending up in jail with, although I can’t see it. Andy’s always been lucky when it comes to getting caught with shit. It’s amazing, though, that some cop didn’t pull us over for some reason during one of the many times I was in his car with him and that I didn’t end up going down with him, since he almost always has pot on him.

I told him I could imagine how much Michelle had to have envied him. He said she was quiet afterward, so he could tell she was jealous.

As always, Andy can’t get through a conversation without mentioning God, and he said he thanked God when he got home and told him he could die now. I got a kick out of that one.

Later…

Sometime next week, we’ll be going to look at one more manufactured home dealer, as I said before, then the next step will be to look for land. I just hope God’s with us, and that we don’t have to settle in a big way. It’s impersonal, so I don’t see why God wouldn’t help us. As long as the dream/goal is material, he usually has no problem with allowing it. I hope to hell we can find some decent land that’s already prepped, cuz that’d save us money that we could put towards the house, furniture, etc.

Tom says that the fact that our house is on the corner is a plus cuz then you don’t have neighbors on two sides of you. Really? I thought most people wouldn’t mind noise/neighbors and wouldn’t want the corner cuz of how people cut across it all the time.

It was my turn to have to reschedule my appointment with Mel and the Doc the other day. The appointment on the 7th was too early for Tom to get home and get me there, so I upped it to the 13th. Tisha understood and said it was only fair since they’ve had to reschedule on me.

Now there’s a blue/white Blazer at the renter’s that some guy and a little kid got out of. These people are just like the freeloaders - so many cars, so many people.

[nelweensfic]

Always with you

Chapter 5 : Uniform

Thank you @cluelesspigeons for beta reading 😌

Chapter 1 - Previous chapter

“Ruby, I know the secretary isn’t here and you have to do her work now, but don’t forget you also have to do your own job,” Valentin says. He’s standing next to my desk. “Come find me after lunch.” 

I look at him as he leaves the room, fighting the urge to pull a face at him.

“He just can’t leave me alone…” I sigh before looking down to my tupperware box.

I hate this man. I hate the fact that everybody needs something from me yet never seems to care that I’m doing three people’s jobs in the same amount of time. How am I supposed to do my work and the secretary’s while also doing part of my manager’s? 

I put my fork halfheartedly in the spaghetti I made last night… I’m not hungry. Not anymore.

Ping.

I look down at my phone and see a new message from Maeva on discord. I open the app and my eyes widen in surprise. She has sent me pictures of her and her teammates.

[Mae] : New photoshoot with our new uniform! :D

They were all wearing black sweatpants with the orange dragon logo on the side. Their shirt was also black with an abstract, orange shape and the dragon logo in the center. DiP was written both on the back of the T-shirt and on the short sleeves. 

The whole team looked cool but Maeva was pretty. Her long, black wolf cut was put up in a ponytail, her bangs falling down the sides of her face. She is smiling fiercely.

[Me] : You all look so cool!!!! Did you find your new member, then?

It takes her some time to answer back. The more I look at the uniform, the more I think about how I would look in those and how cool it would be to be next to Maeva. 

Maybe I should try out for the team? If I got rejected maybe Maeve doesn’t need to know. I could ask Justin to not tell her. 

“Ruby Allen!” Valentin called from his office. “Why haven’t you sent the files to the Gesck Society yet?” 

I close my eyes and try not to destroy the fork I hold in my hand. I take a deep breath to calm down. 

Ping. 

“I told you I didn’t have time this morning!” I shout back. “I’ll send them after lunch!” 

“No need. I’ll do it myself. It’s too important!” 

“Then why did you ask me to do it this morning when you saw that I was overwhelmed with work?” I say quietly to myself. 

Ping.

I look down at my phone again and put the fork with the food down. Maeva has sent two pictures.

What the fuck? Maeva Clark, what are you doing? 

The first picture was of her standing next to someone, probably one of her teammates. But instead of the person’s face, she had put my face on it. It’s weird to see me standing next to her, in the new DiP uniform with my strawberry blond hair covering half of the shirt. 

The other picture was also an edited picture, showing the back of the T-shirt where underneath the team name my username Scatty Cat was written. 

My phone vibrates one last time.

[Mae] : You’d look good with it, right? :3 

[Mae] : I gotta go, ttyl! 

I don’t reply. Not yet at least. 

I do look good in the uniform. And the more I look at the pictures of us; the faster my heart starts beating. This was our dream. To play together, and win the world cup. 

“Ruby?” Valentin calls again. “Where did you put the files for Roseberry City?” 

I turn off my phone. It’s just a good dream, but it’s not reality. Right now I’m still here at my job, behind my desk on my lunch break. Unfortunately, Valentin doesn't know how to stop working, even during break time.

“I’m coming,” I sigh and get up. 

Tonight I’ll play harder. Maybe fate is telling me to quit this job. And maybe I should listen to it.  

[ravenxd]

Another Way to Show Love

3 A.M Thoughts - Poly! Cc! Dream Team x F!Reader

Imagine Dream and Sapnap fucking their sub, and George just wakes up to you moaning as they both make you cum. Maybe George helps clean you up... by using his mouth. You then reward him by sucking him off, while Dream and Sapnap watch and record the whole thing... then it ends with super sweet fluff<3.

- Just some more thoughts♡♡♡♡.

Dom! Dreamnap/ Dom! Dream and Dom! Sapnap x Sub! GeorgeNotFound x Sub! Reader.

Contents: Double Penetration in the same hole, Cum eating, Blowjob, Polyamorous Relationships, Afab! Reader, Dream and Sapnap taking photos and recording. Guilty Sapnap because he thinks he hurts s/o, fluff<3, aftercare-ish themes<3...

You cover your mouth, hoping that you can contain in the many sounds that come whenever they both rock their hips. But it's so damn impossible. You just have to thank the fact that George really is a heavy sleeper.

Sapnap was below you, having pulled you onto his lap with your ass facing him. Dream was infront of you, keeping his pace as he fucked into your hole, the same one Sapnap was heavenly buried into. You shut your eyes, clinge onto Dream and let many small moans fall.

"Dream.. Sap~.." You couldn't take it any longer, having one of them in you was good as it was, but when you have two of your boyfriends, while the other was asleep, the pleasure just intensifies. They were both buried so deep inside, both of their cocks being milked by your pussy. Dream smirked seeing the state you were in.

"Can't take it? Or is it just too good?" He groans, Sapnap then jumps in.

"You like when both Dream and I fuck you?" Sapnap asks in addition to Dream's question. You nod your head, taking one of Dream and Sapnap's hand.

"I do~! So much! Love it.." You moan.

Dream pinned your hand onto the bed, while Sapnap did the same, it slightly hurt but you were so blissed out by the pleasure that you didn't find it anywhere in yourself to even care.

"I'm gonna- oh fuck! I'm gonna cum~! Please! Harder..!" You beg, your voice growing raspy.

"Yeah? Being stuffed with Sapnap and I got you cumming faster? You like being stuffed with two cocks?" Dream groans as he feels your walls tighten around him and Sapnap even more. He knew you loved the way he spoke. You felt his hand take a stronger hold onto yours, as did Sapnap. The coil in your stomach that formed was near close to snapping.

Sapnap's hips slammed into you harder, his free hand played with your chest, Dream does the same and they both begin to play with your perked up nipples.

"Mhm~! So fucking good..! D-Dream- Sapnap- I'm gonna cum-!" You let out high pitched moan and you just let it happen. They both thrust once more into you, both their cocks spurting their seed into your womb. Your own orgasm spilling over their lower halves. You were still moaning uncontrollably, you felt a shift and saw that Dream had lowered his body down.

Sapnap began to pet Dream's hair, while Dream slowly left kisses across your neck and jawline.

"G-Guys...? What are you doing..?" George asked, your eyes widen and you turn to look over at George.

"Awe.. our other Angel has finally woken up.." Sapnap teases. Dream quickly looks over, he slowly raises himself up.

"Baby.. be a good boy and pass me my phone.." Dream asks, George's blush deepened at the name as he reaches over to the drawer and picks Dream's phone up. He hands it over and Dream takes it. Then you realized that he was taking a picture.. you squeezed around him and Sapnap.

"Fuck Y/n..." Dream moaned softly, you see the flash go off.

"Happy memories.." Dream teases as he tossed his phone to the side. You moaned as he slowly pulled out, leaving Sapnap last to pull you off him. You quickly close your legs, feeling their cum drip down. Sapnap swiftly moves from underneath you.

"Dream, pass me your phone. George, come here.." Sapnap says, Dream raised an eyebrow but listened to his lover anyway. Dream once again grabbed his phone and gave it to Sapnap.

George nervously obeyed Sapnap, you layed below all three of your boyfriends.

Sapnap pats a space right in front of you. George slowly crawls to you.

"Y/n.. open up.." Dream finally catches on, you slowly open your legs. Sapnap smirks and opens up the camera on Dream's phone.

"Pretty little cunt.." He says and you grew red within seconds, after coming to realize that he was taking another picture.

"Clean her up." Dream tells George. George slowly bends over, his face coming unbelievably close to your drenched hole. He moaned at the sight and immediately stuck his tongue out, licking up every drop that spilled out when your boys had both pulled out. You moan and take a grip to his brown hair, he began to suck on your clit. Causing you to rock your hips up, you just found it in you to completely ignore the fact that after a few flashes, the camera on Dream's phone wasn't going off anymore.. because it was just constantly on.

You further open your legs, allowing for George to hold onto your thighs, tongue diving into your cum filled pussy. By the time he was nearly done cleaning you up, you were nearly babbling incoherent sentences.

He pulled away, you stay laying down. Slowly raising your body up to sit.

You turn over to your other boyfriends, once again ignoring the flash.

"Daddy.. Can I suck his cock..?" You say motioning to the incredibly noticeable bulge at George's sweatpants.

Dream and Sapnap look at each other, they both nodded their heads.

"Go ahead babygirl.." Dream answers. You smile which George reciprocated. He took your place so he could lay down onto the pillows. You eagerly help George take his shirt off and pulled down his grey sweatpants along with his boxers, both of which you helped him get completely rid of. You hear both Sapnap and Dream get closer, you turn to face them.

"Go on.." Dream says, you nod your head, taking George's length into your hands, his tip was completely smeared with precum. Standing so tall, you only crave more. You slowly lower your head down, completely bending over.

Your lips made contact with the head of his cock, slowly taking him into your warm mouth. George moans at the relief of finally getting touched, you grow giddy inside. Fully taking in his throbbing member, until you felt you couldn't, so you resort to jerking the rest of what you couldn't put into your mouth.

"Ohh.. Y/n~.." He moves his hips around, you don't make an attempt to stop him, just taking in whatever he gives you.

You suck on his dick, using your tongue to try and add more to his pleasure, and it seemed to work because his breathing was staggering. You can't blame him, after hearing you getting completely fucked by Dream and Sapnap, and him having to clean up their mess, he was incredibly sensitive to touch.

You feel Dream's hand pushing your hair away, you slowly open your eyes to see that Sapnap had also gotten closer with Dream's phone, the camera still rolling. You choose to ignore it, now proudly working on your sensitive boy's cock. With a few more sucks and jerks, his breathing pace had increased as he was silently groaning.

"Gonna cum?" Dream asked George, "You like the way our pretty girl can also use her mouth to make you cum?" George nodded his head, his lips parting.

"So much.." He groans, completely coming undone as his cum shoots into your mouth, Dream quickly turns his attention over to you.

"Keep it in." You obey his request. Dream motioned Sapnap over. Sapnap smirks and does so.

"Open up babe~.." Sapnap says, you proudly do so. Showing off your work, George's cum was all over your tongue. Nearly dribbling down, until Sapnap was quick enough to use a finger to push it back into your mouth.

"Swallow." Dream says, you do as he says. Once again opening your mouth up, to prove you had. Sapnap then uses a hand to pet your hair.

"Good girl.." He says, which causes you to warm up and smile. Dream then sat by you, Sapnap reverted hiz attention over to George.

He pulled you into an embrace, "How's my favorite girl doing..? You feeling good?"

"I feel like I'm high.. a little tired.." You say, a blissed out smile wiped onto your face as you lean onto his shoulder. He smiles and chuckled.

Sapnap sets Dream's phone down.

"How about Sapnap and I get you and George properly cleaned up and dressed? Eat something, watch a movie, and get some sleep?" He asks, you quickly nod your head.

"Alright." He gets up and plants a small kiss to your lips.

"Let me wash off real quick and I'll get to you." He smiles, he walks out with Sapnap.

You turn over to George, who was sitting up.

You crawl over to him, pulling him into a hug.

"I love you so much.." You mumble, he pulls you in.

"I love you too.." You both stay in the position a little long, until you finally hear your two other boyfriends come into the room.

"Come on you two, we have to get you cleaned up." Dream says, helping George up, while Sapnap got to you.

"Are you good babe? We didn't hurt you, did we?" Sapnap asked, as he helps you get up.

"I'm okay.." You say, holding onto Sapnap. Finding that you can't exactly walk right. "And no, you didn't hurt me."

Sapnap stays quiet, you think nothing of it and get into the warm bath with George. They both help you get cleaned, washing out your hair, and using body wash to clean you up good. At the end of it, you're sitting with George by the end of your shared bed, using a towel to dry your hair.

Dream walks into the room with a tray filled with various foods. He placed it by the drawer.

You and George grew excited, until you looked over at Dream.

"Dream where's Sapnap?" You ask, he turns around and his face falters.

"I think he's still in the kitchen.. I'll be back okay? Choose something to watch." He says, turning on the TV and tossing the controller over to the both of you. You reach and give it to George.

"Pick something, mkay? Gonna go get something from the kitchen. Want something?" You ask George. George shakes his head.

"I'm good." You smile and nod, reaching over to kiss his lips. You slowly stood up and walked out of the room, slowly making your way down the stairs.

"Sapnap, if she was hurt she would have told us.. You know she doesn't like lying to us." Dream says as he pulled his boyfriend into a hug, all of a sudden you remember his previous question.

'We didn't hurt you, did we?'

"But she could barely walk.." Sapnaps muffled voice was still audible.

"Sapnap.. she's okay, she would let us know if we were going too hard on her.." Dream says as he makes Sapnap look up at him. "She's fine, okay?"

Sapnap looks off to the ground, "What if she isn't.."

You slowly descend down the stairs.

"Sapnap...? I'm okay..!" You say as you made your way over to both of your boyfriends. Sapnap looked over at you, guilt clouded his eyes.

"Y/n? You should be in bed with George." He says as Dream pulled away to turn around and look at you.

"I know, but I came to get something.. You didn't hurt me Sapnap.." You try reassuring him, he doesn't say anything. But he does hold onto you.

"You'll tell me if we ever do, right?" He asked, you smile and nod your head. " Please, lets go with George already?" You ask as you take a candy bag from the cabinet.

Sapnap smiled, as did Dream. "Yeah, okay.."

As soon as you had made it to the room, George had already picked a movie, waiting for the return of his partners.

That night, you fell asleep holding onto Sapnap, with George in between, and Dream spooning you.

Hope you all enjoy this one<3, remember that my requests are still open so feel free to drop in a request<3.

[finelinevogue]

the fact that Y/N has post natal depression Is somewhat refreshing idk I just don't see it talked about much on here and if it is it's like Hella angsty and the partner doesn't understand what it is but I was wondering if u could touch on it a bit more cause it's something I'm really scared about happening to me and I just want harry to hold me and tell me it's going be okay 😚😚😚😚

P.s. if u don't wanna it's understandable

anon: can u write about harry helping y/n through her ppd maybe like the 3rd time was so bad that h decide that he won’t be having more children

so this was requested twice so i would love to be able to write this for you both, hope this is okay - mind it’s heavily angsty!;

tw: vomiting, ppd and od

oli - 4, felix - 3, belle - 12 weeks

Motherhood was really fucking hard.

The birth of your newly born daughter, Isabella, had really taken a back pedal on your mental health. You had suffered with post natal depression after the birth of your two sons, but nothing as bad as this.

It had hit you around the 7 week mark after giving birth. The pregnancy itself was okay, even though she was slightly premature, but it was after you’d taken her home that it’d all spiralled downhill. It started with complications with her breastfeeding - like she was rejecting the milk that you had produced. It hurt to see her reject you and your body, finding more comfort in drinking from a pre-made milk bottle as her dad rocked her to sleep. You recall the evening so clearly and felt like an utter failure as you watched her drink a bottle of formula for the first time.

“Ssh ssh,” Harry cooed to your 7 week old daughter as he rocked her in his arms on the rocking chair in her nursery. She was whining because she was hungry, but the problem was that she wasn’t accepting your milk. She hadn’t been accepting your milk all day and now it was becoming dangerous for you to keep on saying ‘Oh i’ll just try later.’ Harry had told you to make a formula bottle for her. “Mummy’s coming.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you were walking back to the nursery with a warm bottle in your hands. You’d tested it on your hand to make sure it wasn’t too hot and then taken a sip to taste it, out of jealousy, and you thought that it didn’t taste any different to you. Then again you’re not a 7 week old human whose only date is milk.

“Look here’s mummy with your yummy milk, okay? Look Belles!” Harry cooed at his darling angel and you only wished he wasn’t as happy for her as he was.

“Yeah.” You spoke softly, handing him the bottle and standing nearby, part of you hoping that she would reject this too and she wasn’t just rejecting you.

But no, she drank the formula like it was her last meal.

“Such a sweet girl, aren’t you?” Harry praised her, watching her in awe as she kept on drinking the formula. Watching as she was drinking to become the strong girl you knew she’d become. It just hurt that it wasn’t you that could help her become that.

You felt powerless. Worthless, even. The one thing that you had carried the weight of your breasts around to do and you couldn’t even do it. Your nipples were so sore and your breasts ached so badly and it was all for nothing. Perhaps it was punishment for being such a bad mum. Perhaps you’d never been good enough for this job and it was your bodies way of shutting you down forever. You wouldn’t need the ability to produce milk anymore, because you weren’t worth the title of becoming one again. You wanted to be happy for your little one, seeing her happy but all you felt was rejection and sadness. She didn’t think you were good enough to be her mum and that really hurt.

Along with the breastmilk problem, Belle also became very stubborn when you wanted to change her nappy. Anytime you tried to change and help her she put up a fuss, kicking her legs and sometimes she would bite or hit you away. It was just a reminder that you weren’t a good enough mum for her and that she didn’t feel safe enough around you. She didn’t find comfort in your presence and she was so fussy about what you did around her. With Harry, though, she was an angel. She loved him so much and obviously he made her feel so loved and safe - something you’d clearly never be able to give her.

There was also the chores of being a mother to your other two sons too. Oli and Felix were old enough to understand that they had a baby sister, but they weren’t old enough to understand how miserable you were. Harry wasn’t even able to figure it out yet. You tried your best to put on your bravest face, knowing that your family needed you to be strong but the truth was that you were crumbling on the inside. You were feeling less and less like yourself and you were waiting for the moment when you’d completely fall apart. Nothing felt right anymore. Everything was just numb.

“You two boys okay?”

You walked into the children’s playroom see that they were sat at the little table colouring in. Felix’s little legs dangled slightly, whereas Oli’s legs touched the floor and it made your heart swell at how big they were both getting.

“Yep!” Oli cheered, scribbling with his left hand as his tiny tongue stuck out from his lips as he concentrated - a habit passed onto him from his father.

“What are you both drawing?” You asked, coming over and kneeling on the floor beside them and having a peek at their drawings.

“We’re colouring for daddy.” Felix answered, some of the words not being pronounced properly due to his young lisp and lack of being taught how to say things correctly yet.

His words stung though. You appreciated that he was only a toddler and he meant nothing evil or malicious by it, but it hurt to think that maybe, just maybe, your sons were doing this for their dad because he did so much more for them than you did. Of course you tried to be the best mum you could, but maybe you weren’t doing enough. Maybe you weren’t meant to be a mum after all, or at least not a good one.

“O-oh,” you tried to hold back the tears in your eyes because your boys looked so proud at their artwork - and you should be too. “Tell me about them then, my loves.”

Oli went first, “So this is me and this is Oli and this is dad. It’s us playing football like we did the other day, mummy.” He pointed out to each of the figures, some looking actually quite terrifying but you’d never have the heart to tell him that. The figures were all holding hands though and it hurt to think that you weren’t a part of that.

“Oh that’s so good Ols!” you rubbed his head of hair and then turned to Felix’s, “What about you Fix?”

“I drew daddy as the best.” He pointed to a trophy that the figure - more like a stick-man-slenderman - was holding, which was decorated with the award of ‘my hero’.

“I told him to write hero, mummy.” Oli added, and you smiled at both of them.

“Well done. Good job both of you. Daddy will love these!” You only wished that they would draw something for you. You hated to think that you were being petty, but honestly you just wanted to feel loved. “Shall I go cut up some apple for a snack, hey?” You asked, trying to feel useful.

“Daddy is making us smoothies!” Felix answered and you had to stand up, up and away from their heigh, so they didn’t catch the tears in your eyes.

“Okay! Don’t forget to give him those pictures - he’ll love those.” You praised them and they both giggled to each other.

The sight of your sons laughing should’ve made you so happy, but it only reminded you that you weren’t the source of their happiness. You weren’t on their mind enough to be their inspiration for drawings. You definitely weren’t their hero. You were just a woman to them, not a mum. You wanted to be so much more but it was clear that they didn’t need you. They were loved by their dad and each other, not in need of your heart.

Eventually Belle settled down and was sleeping better through the night, leaving you and Harry to much more peaceful nights sleep. Well, just Harry.

You had found it near impossible to get to sleep now. You lay awake at night wondering when Belle would next wake up, wondering when she’d next need you. Harry was always quick out of bed though, even if he actually was sleeping, to help her ordering you to stay in bed and rest yourself. You couldn’t help feel like he was telling you to stay put because he knew you wouldn’t be able to do your job properly - and you started to believe him.

You’d found yourself getting jealous of those that could get to sleep. When you were walking down the road you’d judge a person by how much sleep they looked like they got last night. You definitely looked like you only had 2 hours - even when you’d only had 37 minutes but who’s counting? Your dark circles were heavily noticeable, but no one cared enough to ask. Even Harry stayed clear of you more and more often; spending more time with the kids than you and sleeping on his side of the bed instead of yours at nighttime.

There had been one evening where you had been so restless that Harry had gotten so frustrated and left the room, with a blanket and a pillow, and slept on the couch. You’d never felt so much like a burden than that night. Your family was rejecting you and you felt like a failure. You were a success at failing in everything. The meals you cooked went half eaten by everyone because you would’ve forgotten to add a key ingredient. The children preferred to spend more time playing with their dad because you weren’t energised enough to play the games they wanted to. Your daughter still rejected your milk. It was all too much and you just wanted one nights peace for it to change.

Last night had been that night.

Fuck these were so addicting. You were finally getting the sleep that you so badly craved, only with the help of tablets.

You wanted the sleep because that was the one place you could escape to. You needed that escape to help you get out of bed the next morning. Life was too hard for you to not dream, and without dreaming you didn’t want life.

It started off with taking one every night before bed, but then they stopped working again, so you started taking two, then three. Four was obviously where your body hit its limit.

“Mummy? Can you come tuck me in please?” Oli asked, little toy giraffe in hand and shaking you in hopes of waking you up to send him peacefully off to sleep.

You’d gone to bed a bit earlier tonight, lying saying that you were extremely exhausted. Harry said he would be able to handle things and that’s when you excitedly ran upstairs to take your pills; 4 of them. You’d made it into your bed, feeling slightly drowsy after completing your nighttime routine, but then you started to feel unwell and really ill. Before you’d passed out you’d stuck your fingers down your throat in hopes to make the feeling in your stomach disappear, but it ended up you throwing up all over the bed and pass out right there.

“Mummy! Wake up!” Oli rattled your back, but you were still unresponsive.

Oli padded out of the room and down to his sisters room where he knew his dad was. Belle was being extra fussy this evening and Harry suspected it had everything to do with you retiring early. He heard Oli come into the room just as he’d gotten Belle down.

“Y’alright buddy?” Harry whispered, tip-toeing out of Belle’s room, leaving the door open slightly, and crouched down in front of him.

“No. Mummy’s not waking up.” Oli pouted, rubbing a tired fist over his eye.

“She’s probably in dreamland, bud. She was really tired today.”

“She’s really tired all of the times.”

“I know, Ol.” Because Harry did know, but he was too much of a coward to face up to the problem. The doctors had said that post natal depression can strengthen with every birthed child, but he was too blind sighted by the fact that you’d overcome the first birthed post natal depression so quickly, and was so in love with his baby girl, that he didn’t truly see how bad things had gotten. Harry had tried giving you some space, distancing himself from you in bed and spending more time with the kids so you could relax and rest up, but nothing seemed to be working. He was surprised, actually, that you’d been having better sleep recently and so was hopeful that maybe the worst of the depression was over.

Hell, was he so wrong.

“Go to bed, bud okay? I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Wake mummy up so she can give me a kiss.”

“I’ll try little man, alright?” Harry scuffed his sons hair and then watched him walk off to his room.

Harry walked into your dark room, the air smelling slightly sour, and walked around to your side of the bed. He sat down next to you sighed heavily. He needed to speak to you, no matter how tired or angry you’d be with him. He was losing you as a wife and a mother and a soulmate and a lover. He was just losing you, just as you were losing yourself and he was doing tip-toeing around the problem any longer. He was going to try and make this better. He was going to better understand how you were feeling in order to help you.

“Baby?” He spoke softly, nudging you gently, “Baby wake up.” No response. “Y/N, my love? Wake up for me darling, need to speak with you.” Normally you would’ve stirred by now but there was still nothing. “Y/N?” Harry shook you a bit more urgently now - one that would surely wake even the deepest of sleepers. “Y/N!” He shouted, perhaps a bit too loudly for the comfort of his children.

He turned you over and that’s when he knew this was very, very, bad.

Your face was pale grey and your mouth was covered in the remains of vomit, and he suddenly understood the gross sour smell from before. Your hair was greasy and stuck all in the wet sick all over your face. Your eyes were puffy from the remains of tears. You looked dead.

“No, no, no. Y/N! No you don’t.” Harry’s eyes starting weeping and he couldn’t think straight. He checked your pulse on your wrist and timed it - it was unhealthily faint. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were in your last beats of your heart. His tears and sobs were uncontrollable, but he had to be both strong for you and his children, as well as for him. “Fuck sake pull yourself together Harry. Okay, baby hold on please. Okay? You don’t get to leave me like this, you hear me? I love you so much, baby. Fuck i’m so sorry.” He gently placed your head back down on the pillow and pulled out his phone.

999

“What’s your emergency?”

“I need a-an ambulance p-please. I-I think my wife i-is dying.”

The rest of it was a blur for Harry. Him trying to wake you up. The ambulance arriving. Oli and Felix crying when they saw you being carried away on a stretcher. Belle’s deafening screams. Harry’s heart beating for the both of you.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It was the rhythmic beeping sounds that woke you up.

Your whole body felt achey and sore, your head a pounding mess. You opened your eyes slowly, adjusting them to the light of the room. You expected to see the family photo on the wall opposite you and the white of your curtains, but you were met with a heart-monitor machine and a hospital bed instead. You looked down at your body and noticed a cannula in your arm, making you squirm because you hated stuff like that so much. Your nose had a tube running inside it too, feeding you the oxygen your lungs weren’t receiving properly.

It then dawned on you how you weren’t in the room alone. You saw a sleeping Anne and Gemma on the chairs in the far corner, with Felix and Oli tucked against their sides - Anne with Oli and Felix with Gemma. It was so cute to see them so cuddled up close. They looked peaceful. You took note of the baby pram that was at the end of your bed, most likely playing bed to your beautiful daughter. Your mind felt lost. You can’t really remember what had happened, apart from taking four of those sleeping pills. You fully remember the weight of feeling worthless and useless as both a mum and a wife, though, and that feeling was still very prominent.

Your eyes lastly landed to the side of you, where Harry was sat but also laid on your bed. The top of half of his body laid upon the bed, his head buried onto this arm deep within the bed, whilst his bottom stayed rooted to the chair. His hand was holding yours tightly, which was a sign that he wasn’t asleep. You were so scared to face him though. You had failed him, again and again and you weren’t sure whether you could be enough for him anymore. Enough for your family anymore.

You squeezed his hand three times saying ‘I love you.’

“Y/N,” He whispered so hoarsely, but you were so focused on him to even catch it. He looked ruined, and you’d done that to him. His eyes were dark and tired, but also red and puffy from where he’d been crying. His hair was a mess and you could tell it hadn’t been washed in a while. How long had you been out for? You felt rested in your sleep, but not in your mind or your heart.

“I—” Your breathe got caught in your throat, but you persevered to finish your words. He deserved to here them. “I’m sorry.” You were whispering so you didn’t disturb anyone else in the room.

“No, stop it. I’m sorry baby.”

“Harry don’t, you don’t have anyt—”

“Stop yes I do I—”

“Harry please you don’t owe—”

“Y/N listen!” He cut the little volley-conversation and ordered you to just stop. You started crying when you saw that he was too. “Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it right now. Because I love you. Fuck, I do. I love you so much that when I found you unconscious in a pile of your own sick thinking you were dead, my only thought was that I wished it were me instead”.

“Harry, you don’t mean—”

“My god Y/N! You don’t get it, do you? I would do anything to switch places with you right now. I would suffer a thousand times over if it meant you were okay. I’d suffer in hell for you. Nobody else but you has ever made me feel like this. I married you because I love you and I want to wake up next to you every day of my beating hearts life. I chose to have children with you, because I knew how great of a mum you’d be and what beautiful people you’d help bring up into the world—”

“But i’m not.” You cut Harry short, trying to pull your hand away from him but he didn’t let you - only tightening his grip and pulling himself closer towards you. He was so close you could kiss him.

“Not what?” He asked, although he already knew the answer. You’d both had this conversation before, but you were both tired of it and were ready for it to be your last now.

“A good mum. I’m- i’m not a good mum or wife, Harry and i’m sorry.”

“I told you not say it and stop thinking it, because you’re completely wrong Y/N. You’re a good mother and a good wife, because you are a good person.”

“But i’m not great.” You whimpered, thinking back to the drawings your Oli and Felix had done. “I’m not the best.”

“But you don’t have to be, baby. You see our beautiful, healthy, happy and safe babies over there?” Harry turned to look at them, love in his eyes as in yours. “They wouldn’t be all those things, no matter how you feel about yourself, without you. I could never have brought them up to be half the people they are without you by my side, the way you make me a better person. You claim you don’t got this, but baby you’re already doing it and have been doing it for 5 years with our children and so much longer with me.”

“I’m just so fucked up Harry.” Your head tilted back on the pillow as you got heavily emotional over the situation.

Harry shook his head and moved his hand to cup the back of your neck, moving your head forwards until it met his. The touch of his skin against yours, no matter where and how small, made you feel alive and you’d missed him and that feeling so much. You missed loving him so much.

“Listen to me.” He ordered, keeping you still. “You are strong and you are brave Y/N Styles. No matter what you tell yourself I will be here every goddamn day of my life, if I have to, to remind you that you are worth more than your fucking weight in gold. You are my heart. You are my soul and the mother to my greatest achievements. I know they are yours too, just as I know I am your heart.

“You are.” You whispered so quietly under your breathe, but Harrys heart warmed when he caught you saying it. He knew though.

“Just let me love you. Let me be there for you. If you want medication then let’s do it, and i’ll be there for every step of the way. If you want to go to a rehabilitation centre for a bit, that’s okay we can—”

You shook your head and licked the tears away from your face. You were both such tearful messes, but the love between you was undeniable. “No, no please, no.”

“Okay, okay, love. We won’t. See, you’re okay. I promise, you’re okay. Stay with me, yeah? I’ll love you and keep you safe, just as you will me.”

“Promise.” You told him sincerely. He brought his lips to yours with that single word. He was so proud of your for being so brave and strong. He wishes he was half the person you were. His lips conveyed those thoughts of his and you could taste the love and passion burning through his heart and out on to his lips. He tasted like home. z he was home. Your lips smacked together messily, but you didn’t care because you loved each other too much and had kissed each other even more. Once you pulled back he stayed close to you, smiling at you with such awe. “I think.. I think I want to try medication please.”

Harry didn’t say ‘okay’ or ‘sure thing’, no. He said four words that meant more to you in that moment that any others in the universe. More than saying ‘I love you.’ Words that reminded you that not everything is okay and that sucks really bad, but you’re doing your best to get through it. It was a reminder that you had so many people who loved you and cared for you. It was a gun at the starting line symbolising that the journey ahead wasn’t going to be easy, but worth it.

“I’m proud of you.”

[dreamiesformula]

Dilemma pt. 1 - Charles Leclerc

{Slow burn & series}

Warnings: mentions of cheating, harassment, sexism, swearing and for those of you who don’t like imagines that involve non F1 related themes there is some K-pop written into this. (Y/n is adoptive sister to a K-pop idol nothing romantic related).

Disclaimer: I am hoping people like this enough to turn it into a progressive series, so please if you liked the content, writing or anything like that let me know. Sorry if it’s shit I’m still getting back into writing after 2 years away from actual stories.

Love always ❤️

———————————————————

Y/n spent a long time working for this pulled from the W series after just her first season, to be a driver for Haas who were down one driver before testing rounds for the new 22’ car they needed someone and Gunther was please with the pick his very own “breath of fresh air” as he put it. She worked so hard to prove him right and going into the first race all looked promising, she was determined to prove not just for Gunther but all fans that she could race just as well as any man on the grid it was now the day of the Bahrain Grand Prix and to say you were anxious was an understatement. You had grown close with a few drivers on the grid them wanting to protect you your big brother squad if you will which consisted of Daniel Riccardo, Sebastian Vettel, Valtteri bottas and George Russel. They never gave you any advantages on track as they knew you wanted to race fair plus they wanted their jobs, but they did all grow to love you like family, Daniel in particular he could tell when you were anxious, hyper, depressed, drained or on verge of breaking down. Unbeknownst to you so could a driver you barely interacted with Charles Leclerc, he had taken interest to you while an eligible bachelor it was funny how he wasn’t interested in anyone else until you came onto the grid he knew he wasn’t the only one but he was here to race and that’s what he’d do! Apparently so were you, P5 in your debut F1 race the garage erupted you swear you could hear them even as you crossed the chequered flag.

Y/n’s perspective

It was a high like no other while P1,2&3 were a dream coming P5 cemented what my point was, I was here to race and race my little heart out I would. The whole garage including my teammate group hugging revealing is what we both achieved P5 and P11 in a Haas, fucking mental. Mick came over and hugged me while I knew there was pictures I didn’t care “you killed it” I hear him whisper I shove him back pointing towards both of our bodies “no we killed it” laughing pulling him in for another victory hug.

It was a nice sight to see drivers happy however I noticed some weren’t so happy, I know how much racing means to them all so I make my rounds congratulating and trying to cheer up where possible. They seemed more astounded by me coming to hype or cheer them up than I expected it was just what I was used to doing, after all we are all humans and feeling down on yourself was the worst. I go back to the team shortly after for briefing and team meetings, then to media for interviews nothing but supportive questions so far which made me calm a lot and then finally a shower and change into my clothes I wore a baggy graffiti style tee that had the tag ICON and black ripped jeans with white airforces. On my way out I see the gang aka the brother squad talking in the paddock I go up to them putting my bravest face on “I can’t believe him of all people” I hear Daniel scoff “hiii” I surprise them all “oh shit” seb let’s out before they burst into laughter “whatca talking about” I ask only to be shut down but bottas “nothing important” he shrugs nice I’m being left out of gossip how rude “we were gonna go for a few drinks and dinner want to come?” Danny asks wide eyed and hopeful “yeah sure why not, I’ll go get changed” I smile and they scoff in sync “nothing fancy please keep as you are, we’re starving we want fast not fancy” George pats your back and you nod “we’ll hurry I’m hungry” I stomp my foot tryna fake anger only for them to laugh at me. Unbeknownst to y/n boys were all sharing a knowing look being that close with the girl that quickly they knew she was having a hard time, her boyfriend cheated on her, she moved to F1 and she was falling hopelessly in love with a driver who had some seriously pressing love life issues. They vowed to protect her from any hurt from anyone outside F1 or inside it, she was quite literally their happy virus she was too fragile and precious to them to be ruined, she was the type to fall hard a quick they learnt that quickly.

We arrived at a restaurant and I felt really under dressed so much for nothing fancy “bro I look homeless compared to these other girls” I look around at ball gown, formal and sequence dresses “you look fine, you just finished a race I bet half the girls here couldn’t do what you did today” Daniel pats my back my phone buzzed and I see the contact name ‘do NOT answer’ my best friend back home Chris did that so I wouldn’t pick up my exs calls real easy to remember when drinking “whose that” Daniel whispers “cheating ex” I choke out why wouldn’t he leave me alone I broke it off 2 months ago “block him?” He suggests “calls me off other phones and numbers” I sigh “dude that’s harassment” I laugh dryly “oh trust me I know” I roll my eyes my ex was back in South Korea now, it was confusing for many reasons one being I was adopted, my adoptive brother was a K-pop star in a popular group and I don’t know my real parents, I never wish to either. He got me into karting when I was 6 and from there I fell in love with speed and racing, he was my guardian angel he saved me, gave me a second chance at life. The boys were yet to know this yet, my first language was Korean, then English which I learnt with help from my friend Chris who was Australian and now here I am Daniel Ricardo’s mini me according to most the McLaren team already, same vibe different body I guess. Dinner was accompanied by drinks and quite a few of them more than needed considering we would be having to be up the next morning at 8 am for a flight at 10 am to Saudi Arabia I was on the same plane and Daniel, Seb and George to my knowledge, I was happy hanging out with my friends feeling like I fit in until I heard a certain shocked monegasque enter the establishment “oh hello” he stands in front of our table some Ferrari higher ups and Carlos with him great now I wanna die in a hole, “hello winners” I smile my phone rings again and Daniel checks it “Christoper🐺” is calling I answer quickly excusing myself “Channie!” I smile through the phone “you killed it out there, we had a schedule but I just watched your race, I am so proud of you” I was gonna cry “thank you Chan I love you” I missed home “when do we see our little star again?” He asks his accent seeping deep telling me he was tired “probably not for another 3 weeks” I sigh they were so busy preparing for their comebacks “we will be here okay” I smile at his reassuring words “I better go back before the guys think I’ve been kidnapped, I love you Channie. Take care of yourself please” I hear him sigh slightly “love you too y/n/n” and with that he hung up. I walk back inside “superstar there you are” bottas smiles laughing along side the boys.

Charles perspective

I shouldn’t be so hung up over another driver let alone one looking this strong early on sure she wasn’t gonna be in the championship running in a Haas but any driver is competition, Carlos must have noticed my far away gazes “you’re gonna make it obvious if you stare any longer” he whispers as he nudged me. “What do you mean?” I laugh away the burning as I watch her get closer to Daniel and whisper something in his ear “you’re little fascination with the Haas girl” Carlos was being dead serious he wasn’t letting this one go. “Dude it’s nothing don’t worry” he chuckles painfully it wasn’t nothing right now she was his everything in way he wanted to win to show off, partially for her partially for him. “Just talk to her, the sex eyes aren’t going to work on this one” he pats my back and I knew he was right she wasn’t gonna be easy to make mine but I was determined, I should maybe actually talk to her before falling stupidly in love. However he knew it was a bit too late for that you had him aware of it or not. After seeing you make friends, smile, laugh act silly and carefree during testing he was sold. Oh boy did you have him. They enjoyed dinner with the team mangers but Charles was in another world for half of it “thank you for meeting us again, congratulations let’s continue to do Ferrari proud” they shake us drivers hands and leave Carlos grabbing me by the shirt over to where the gang of drivers still sit chatting “mind if we join?” Carlos smirks at the group “come on sit down boys” Daniel laughs shoving over as we squish in I am somehow sat next to y/n thighs touching arms almost interlocked, fucking Carlos. “How’re you feeling after your win?” I hear the angelic like voice to my side ask while the table is entertained in their own conversations “pretty good, weirdly lonely but it feels good to be up their” I smile being uncharacteristically open with her, “well trust me I’ll always be here if you need” she smiles and I feel comfortable but she’s simply being friendly “what about you P5 is amazing” looking for excuses to hear her talk “honestly I can’t believe it still, I just wanna make everyone proud. I gotta fight extra hard to prove myself” she looks down to her chest and I think I know what she means, it must be tough “you’re setting an amazing example for race fans and future racers around the world” I put my hand in hers “thank you that means more than I can explain” I felt like the world stopped when I spoke to her gosh I was 24 acting like a kid in love.

The night ended shortly after a few more drinks, some laughs and we all headed back to the hotel. When I let go of her hand I realised I missed the close feeling of her skin on mine, as weird as that sounded. She wasn’t the most of that made sense, I’d dated models, famous content creators the lot but she was just so real for a racing driver she wasn’t the slimmest, not that had much to effect on how I felt but I could already imagine the articles. I went on my own tangent in my mind to didn’t realise I was sitting beside her in the car back to the hotel until I felt a head on my shoulder, upon looking down I noticed the girl asleep on my shoulder smiling to myself. “Don’t get too comfortable, you’ll be lucky if we let you near her again” seb warns a serious tone telling me he’s not joking “what?” I question confused “you’re not using the new driver and our friend as a rebound” Daniel quickly interjects it became clear what they meant after his break up he stupidly admitted to some the the driver he was looking for someone to fill the time until his ex realised he was the one and come running back. But he knew that not to be the case now, “I promise it’s more than that” but they just scoff are me clearly I had to work to gain the trust of her gate keepers.

Y/n’s perspective

I wake up in my hotel room alone and confused as my alarm sounds I don’t remember coming back, maybe I had one too many. My phone was on charge there was water and pain killers on my table, who put me to bed? Anyways I check the time and it’s 7:00 am I had to leave in less than an hour I showered and got changed into some green joggers, my white airforces, white oversized shirt and matching green bomber jacket. When I go to do my hair however there’s a knock on the door and I see Charles standing there “good morning” he smiles how is he so put together at this god forsaken time “hiya” I mumble letting him in “you look nice” he smiles and I feel my insides flip “thanks not too bad yourself, lord knows how you’re awake right now” I chuckle to myself “I brought you a toasted sandwich ham, cheese and tomato Daniel said it was your favourite and a iced mocha” he had the purest of looks on his face “you’re an angel Leclerc” this wasn’t helping how I felt though the act of friendship getting twisted in my stupid little head. “Only for you mon chéri” boom there goes my sanity “I appreciate it a lot, I know we aren’t close but it’s sweet of you to do this for me” I smile looking him in the eyes as my heart beat picks up what was he doing to me “ayo kiddo you awake” I freeze for a second as Daniel’s voice booms “ayo old fart what’s up” I chuckle opening the door to him near hugging me “we gotta head soon you have 20 minutes let’s move it, move it” he swats me away with his hands to tell me to pack my shit. Forgetting about the Ferrari driver currently in my bathroom I start cleaning like crazy “oh hey Daniel” I hear Charles awkwardly cough “h-hi” he stuttered like we was afraid “Charles is too sweet danny he brought my brekkie and checked up on me” blushing clifhtly as you say it out loud “how friendly of him” Daniel says as a pang hits your heart but your phone interrupts it ringing loudly with the cursed “do NOT answer” appearing on screen “not this prick again” Daniel groans “just another day in my life danny it’s fine” I dry chuckle he couldn’t just fuck off he was the one who cheated. “He’s getting out of hand” Daniel puts his hand on my shoulder to comfort me “you can only tell someone to stop so many times I can’t force him to do anything, just like he can’t force me to pick up. It’s been almost 3 months he’s seeing me thriving he wants money that’s all” I smile bitterly.

Charles felt out of place listening in on this, but he gained an amazing insight into who you were. You were clearly in a position of moving on you didn’t seem sad or hurt more angered and distressed, you confirmed to him you were single and that was a positive he took with great care.

You had forgot he was there again for a minute “Mon Ange, I’m gonna go I’ll see you later” he came closer to me and hugged me good “have a safe flight Charles I’ll see you later” the heat rising to my cheeks “okay what the fuck was that” Daniel says a little too loudly I just continue packing up “dude don’t ignore me” he whines “you and charles?” He questions “did nothing, I don’t think he’d take advantage of a drunk girl, plus he just came to check on me” I smile blissfully unaware of the nicknames he’d called me but thinking they sounded so cute coming from him his accent gosh I could listen forever. “Be careful of him kiddo. He’s not all he seems” with that he grabbed your full suitcase and put it with his in the hallway you have your wallet, passport, phone, keys and AirPods with you in you’re jacket pockets and grabbed the duffle bag having everything packed drinking the last of the mocha you’d sipped throughout the ordeal and devouring the sandwich both of which were surprisingly tasty. “Let’s hit the road riccy” you stroll past him collecting your suitcase from the hallways and striding toward the elevator, “do you like him” Daniel gave you once chance to be honest he knew the answer but wanted to confirm it “more than I should” I sigh hoping it’d go unnoticed.

Fast forward to Saudi Arabia pre race

“What’s your home Grand Prix?” The interviewer asked me as I sat in the hot seat for some video they were doing I had been here for a good 10 minutes answering weird questions “ah I don’t have one” I smiled the boys were all watching they’d assumed I was something I wasn’t I guess sure I was born Australian not that I knew until I was 20 but I raced under the South Korean flag cause when you’re adopted you have to become a citizen I had nothing that tied me to my actual life. “I was raised in South Korea, with my adoptive father, adoptive mother and older brother, I don’t race under my birth countries flag cause I’m not a citizen anymore I haven’t been since I was like 2.” I chuckle I look behind the camera to see the reactions of my fellow drivers most just look shocked as for the most part I did not appear Korean but that’s what happens when you’re adopted into a family of a different culture than your birth one, it didn’t hurt anyone and I loved my family. “Okay then moving on, what’s your birthday” what were these questions man “ah it’s y/bd” I was grow more uncomfortable by the second “wait you’re only 21?” The interviewer himself seemed shocked “ah yeah for you all I’m 20 however korean age I am 21, Daniel calls me kiddo for a reason” I laugh “a literal child” he calls from the back of the camera causing everyone to laugh “final question?” Before he can ask “hit me with it interviewer man” I say ready to get this over with “if you could date any driver on the grid who and why?” I looked dumbfounded “excuse me?” I had to clarify I heard what I did he goes to repeat it “I heard your question, I’m not answering it.” I look him dead in the eyes “bipolar much, you’re lucky you have tits or else everyone would be sick of your attitude” he mutters thinking I couldn’t hear and with that I stand up “you wouldn’t ask a male driver who they’d fuck on the grid so why should it be okay to ask me?” I raise my voice to get my point across taking my mic pack off and leaving the studio my press officer hot on my toes “y/n you can’t do that” he said I turned around seeing red “no. No you don’t get to stand there and say it I don’t care how it looked ask them to edit it, make them take it out but I will not be treated different in interviews just because I have tits” I set my ground down “I understand trust me I get it I have a daughter and if this was her I’d be just as upset, but we have to uphold and image of you, I’ll do my best to get it out. But please know I am not going to scold you I just want to protect you okay” he smiles and I feel bad for going off at him “I’m sorry and thank you Tony” I felt awful so I just disappeared for a while crying in my drivers room and listening to sad songs I had in my playlist probably way too loudly, it was bound to come eventually the sexist question just didn’t expect it this soon.

I had to stay at the track for free practice and so exhausted from sobbing for an hour I must’ve passed out, *knock knock* I wake up sometime later to a banging on my door “mon Ange, can you let me in we’re worried about you” I stood shell shocked “please y/n, let us in” I heard a aussie accent call it wasn’t just Charles I open the door to a decent chunk of the drivers on the grid I looked like shit. Tears stained my cheeks, my eyes were red and I looked pale, I could hear Gunther in the hallways yelling “they asked her what?” He was furious but it didn’t sound like he was gonna rip me a new one “come on y/n, let’s go to catering…” Charles lightly grabs my hand and I freeze the boys stare at what’s occurring as they all realise quite quickly this was more mutual than they thought but your phone buzzing interrupting everyone as massive letters “do NOT answer” appear on screen I decline the call quickly and grab my ID pass, secretly placing my hand back into Charles’ and let them lead the way “we are all gonna have lunch with you” George pats my back knowing if I was alone I wouldn’t eat the part at least 12 drivers strong and me pile in I notice Lewis is sitting down already a long empty table accompany him “hello Lewis” I bow out of instinct he was my senior after all everyone was actually he just laughs and pulls me in for a hug. I didn’t realise everyone could be this close without it being competitive, they quite literally were all here to stand by me, with me as a driver and a human being. We all actually had a good time laughing, chatting and just being friends it was a rare and beautiful moment, Yuki and I were talking Japanese for a bit since we hadn’t really ever spoken how ever I only knew a bit of Japanese English was hard enough.

Charles’ perspective

“You’re gonna make everyone suspicious you know” Mick taunts “what?” I snap my head around to face the boy “quit heart eyeing my team mate Ferrari boy” he laughs was it really that obvious “she’s intriguing to you” Lewis adds noting the man’s fascination towards the new driver from just a few seats beside him “I know Lewis I don’t need a lecture on grid etiquette, dating a rival driver isn’t good I know I know” Lewis stops for a second “mate, as long as you’re happy” he shrugs “as long as it doesn’t effect your driving I don’t think anyone can say anything” Mick adds I guess they were right but it’s embarrassing they all could tell. “For what it’s worth I’m sure it’s mutual” Lewis whispers while passing by to get water, “I wish” I mumble in French before I know it we had to go back to our teams.

The car with me in it is dragged into the garage I finish practice “Charles what’s going on out there” my engineer asks there was nothing wrong with the car I think I was just preoccupied in my thoughts, this girl was messing with my driving and I can’t allow it I had to focus “just a bad day won’t happen again” I smile leaving before I can cop an earful. I’ll go have a shower and get changed maybe that’ll clear my head… but all I could think about was her, if this didn’t change it was gonna be awful.

Y/n’s perspective

Daniel hadn’t left my side since he returned from practice “kiddo let’s go eat, you need food” he smiles gently putting his arm around me as we walk to catering “stop calling me kiddo I’ll take your knees” I snap back playfully as he ruffles my hair. We sit down for dinner and I notice two red Ferrari shorts walk to the counter “kiddo I’ve been thinking about what you said at the hotel room” I hush him quickly and the two drivers sit behind us “what about?” I whisper “number 16” I could tell he was scheming “that, was nothing okay” he chuckles I was panicking and he knew it “y/n you can’t hide from me, you like a guy it’s natural” he rubs my shoulder. “He’s my competition if I give into my feelings everything that interviewer and any hater could say comes true. I will have dated someone on the grid purely because I’m a female” I shake my head I simply couldn’t allow to be a cliché “if that’s what you’re worried about kid, you’ve got a lot of growing up to do. You’re feeling typically don’t pass. You’re not gaining anything by being with him, respectfully you compete for survival he competes for glory” he was sincere I could tell and right yeah, he was right. “I’m just scared” but I knew he knew that “if you’re serious about this, who gives a fuck what anyone says… y/n you’re allowed to like a guy” he ruffles my hair ruining the moment in true DR3 style “way to ruin it” and with that we burst into fits of laughter eating our food finally after a heart to heart.

Charles’ perspective

“Can I just say Charles, what’s stopping you?” Carlos breaks me out of a daydream state “reality” yet he just scoffs “if you were any of us 18 other drivers looking over you, you would realise there’s more to this than unrequited love.” But his face brightens up with an idea “what do you like about her?” He asks me typing on his phone to someone.

Charles was didn’t need a minute to make a list but took his time, unaware that his friend and teammate was texting Riccardo just in front of them who Charles hadn’t seen when they walked in.

Y/n’s perspective

“Carlos wants us to be quiet and listen to what they’re saying” Daniel whispers too me so we do Charles was speaking probably louder than he intended to “y/n, mate where do I begin. She’s beautiful but in a real way, she’s not fake, an amazing driver obviously it’s amazing how she’s not scared to push boundaries, she makes me feel like the only man in the world and I barely know her… that’s sounds creepy oh gosh. She has a style like no woman I’ve met before, she doesn’t try make herself like a princess and I find it so attractive, I don’t know Carlos I really just wanna hold her after a win or a loss, I wanna be in her life” I was shocked “you’re shitting me” I whisper to Danny “I told you kid, but if he hurts you I’ll kill him” with a worryingly happy smile “he actually likes me?” Still shell shocked before I can have time to think I’m lifted off my seat and stood in front of both the Ferrari boys “y/n” Carlos grins wider than the Cheshire Cat himself I look at Charles whose yer to break eye contact with the chair in front of him. “I uh, I have to go” and with that Charles pushes past me and out the door “well that didn’t go to plan” Daniel huffs I turn around running after him I see him run to his driver room at the last second follow knocking gently on the now closed door “go away” I hear snapped at the closed wood and a crash I wiggle the handle and it comes loose I pear in to see a huffing Charles Leclerc and a smashed plate laying on the ground. My feet move before I can think and I go to see if he’s alright “are you okay, are you hurt, cut?” I look at his hands no blood or cuts thankfully “this is so embarrassing” he mumbles and I take his hand “there’s nothing to be embarrassed about Charles” I smile trying to bring him out of this space “yes there is you heard all of that, all of it” he sulks preparing himself for rejection “yeah and, what about it?” I shrug “if you came here with reject me just get it over with, I’ve had a shit day already” he groans I laugh a bit to myself grabbing his face with my hands “just kiss me dummy” and he does just that fireworks go off I swear “I like it when you smile you’ve got cute little dimples” I huff placing my forehead on his “in case you didn’t get it from the blushing I like you too stupid” I can’t tell when it happened but it felt right “I’m sorry I’m all over the place” he frowns “hey it’s alright, everyone is a bit. We won’t do anything until you’re ready. Racing comes first okay charles, you’re gonna be a champion” I give him a peck on his cheek turning to clean the smashed plate with just some paper and a broom no dustpan in sight “hey hey careful you’ll hurt yourself” he tried to stop me “it’s okay I’ve done this a lot” I smile “just sit down and chill for a bit you’ve had a big day” and you didn’t know it but in that moment he knew you were it for him, no one had ever tried to take the load off his shoulders. “Mon Ange, what are we?” He asks quietly almost too quietly “whatever you want us to be Charles, you’re the one with the most at stake here. I’m not coming between you a glory” I smile and he doesn’t say anything “can I take you out to dinner after the race?” How could I say no “of course charles, oh and this is all cleaned up I’ll be on my way I’m expecting a call from my brother soon!” I go to leave but he gets up grabs my arms lightly and spins me into his chest for a hug “thank you for not leaving my love” he whispers I look at the closed door “I’ll always support you even from the shadows” I look up at him and he kisses me again it felt too good to be reality. “I’ll make you mine just wait” I nod leaving him alone and me slightly confused what the actual fuck just happened?

TBC…..

[outsideratheart]

I'll Always Come Back to You (Preath x Military!Reader)

Anon request: Hey love, could you write a preath x reader. With military!reader coming home to them both.Just pure fluff😢

3 months, that is how long your mission was supposed to take. Now here you were 7 months later still in Afghanistan.

Your job was very important and you were very proud of the work you did but it did have its downsides, the biggest one, being away from your girlfriends.

“How is it going? I mean I know you can’t tell us why but” Christen begins to mumble.

“Everything is going according to plan, I should be hope by the end of the month” You tell her.

“Really! That soon” You cannot help but smile at Christen’s smile, it was infectious.

But it was the sight of your other girlfriend that now had your attention.

“What’s the matter Tobs?” You ask as she clearly wasn’t as excited as Christen.

“Nothing” Tobin lies.

“Well I have just told you that I am coming home and you face looks like a brick wall”

“It’s just that…well…we have had this conversation before and I got excited the first and the second time even the third but now” Tobin doesn’t look at you instead she plays with her hands.

“Baby, look at me” you wait until she does so.

“I know it can be hard but I have a job to do which is bigger than me. It requires be to be away from you, both of you. I miss you both so much and I am doing everything in power to come home to you as soon as I can”

You look up just in time to see tears falling down Tobin’s face.

“We know it’s hard Y/N which just miss you is all” Christen tells you.

“So how is camp? We watched your came against Sweden, there’s nothing quite like watching my girls tear up the field” you say trying to change the subject.

“It’s going good, we finally nailed that set piece I was talking to you about the other day” Tobin says.

She goes on to describe the play in detail and you smile at her passion. You could listen to her talk about soccer all day.

“What?” She asks as she catches you staring.

“Nothing, I just love to see you smile” Tobin blushes at your compliment. You loved that you still had this power over her even it is from the other side of the world.

“Oh Y/N, I tried that yoga routine you recommended. I was so sore the next day I could hardly walk” Christen rolls her eyes at your smirk and Tobin’s giggle which she managed to cover with a cough.

“Don’t say it” She tells you.

“Sounds like I never left” You say smugly.

“Chris you practically set her up with that one” Tobin says playfully.

“Y/L/N time for briefing” Your hear someone say.

“Duty calls” you tell them “I love you both so much”

“I love you” Christen says.

“I love you” Tobin says.

“Please stay safe” They both say in unison.

You blow a kisses at the camera before ending the video call.

After the brief your sergeant asks you to stay back.

“I know you have been on base a little longer than expected and we appreciate the work you have been doing so we are releasing you from Duty. I have organised a flight for you, if you go pack now you might make it back for you girls’ game” He tells you.

You were finally able to go home and you will be able to surprise Christen and Tobin since they thought you would be back at the end of the month.

Your bags were packed and your were on the plane. In order to keep the homecoming a secret you would have to cancel a FaceTime with your girlfriends but it would be worth it in the end.

You send them both a text saying that you will be going dark for next 24 hours due to the mission to had.

20 hours later, you land in Houston. You look at your watch to see that that have an hour before kick off so you make your way to the game.

Meanwhile at the stadium Christen and Tobin are freaking out as they saw on the news that there was an explosion near the base you were staying in and they couldn’t get in touch you.

“I’m sure she is fine. You said that she was on mission so that means that she wasn’t on base” Alex says trying to calm them down.

“Something is wrong, I can feel it. Last time I felt like this Y/N had been shot” Christen said.

“Christen!” Tobin shouts “you can’t just say something like that”

Christen goes to Tobin and gives her a hug, whispering something in her ear that the rest of the team can’t hear.

“Right, listen up” Vlatko enters the locker room “Christen, Tobin I have seen the news and i want you both to know that you are excused from today’s game”

“I want to play” Christen says.

“Me too” Tobin agrees with her girlfriend.

Before going onto the pitch there is another news report saying that there were no casualties at the bombing so that put’s them at ease but your dark 24 hours were over and they still couldn’t get in touch with you.

You arrive at the game just as the referee blows the whistle and you cheer loudly as you see that both Christen and Tobin are starting.

The game is over before you know it. It was finally time be reunited with the loves of the life.

The players begin their walk around the stadium thanking the crowd, luckily Tobin and Christen are at the back which gives to the chance to get the attention of one of the other players.

It is Ash that sees you first and goes to one of the security guards letting you know that you are family and need to come to the locker room. He escorts you through the stadium, down the several corridors and then you see it. ‘Home Team Locker Room’.

The team had won so most of them were celebrating but not your girlfriends, they were checking their phones and you knew they were waiting for a text from you.

You stood in the doorway watching them for a moment. They were your everything and seeing them in person floods you with all kind of emotions. You don’t realise your crying until Alex passes you a tissue. Turns out everyone had noticed your presence, everyone but the two people you wanted to see you.

“They’re all yours” Ash tells you patting you on the back.

You hear Christen telling Tobin to try calling you one more time and you see your opportunity. You get your phone out of your pocket and turn it on.

Your phones goes off seconds later and your answer it.

“Y/N! You finally answered, please tell me you are ok?” Christen says and you smile at her concern.

“How about you turn around to see for yourself” You tell her.

Christen runs to you, jumps into your arms and you catch her spinning her around.

“I can’t believe you’re here” She says as she places a kiss on your lips.

“She’s really missed you, it has been harder on her this time” Christen tells you signalling to Tobin who is still in her locker staring at you in disbelief.

You place christen on the ground, taking her hand in your as you go to Tobin.

“Am I dreaming because I have had this dream before, you come home then I wake up and your gone again” She tells you.

“I’m here baby” you say.

She stands and kisses you, this one more passionate than the one you shared with Christen which surprises you. Normally Tobin shied away from PDA but not today.

“I really missed that” you say pulling away.

“I have missed you so much Y/N” She says with tears in her eyes.

The rest of the team stand in shock, they have never seen Tobin this vulnerable.

“I hate to break up this reunion but it’s time to go back to hotel” Becky tells you and you, Tobin and Christen frown. “Oh no, I don’t mean it like that. Y/N can obviously come with us”

The ride back to the hotel took too long for your liking. You just wanted to get back so that you could have some alone time with your girlfriends.

As soon as you arrived the three of you politely declined team meal which everyone full understood.

You got to the hotel room and quickly got a shower to freshen up whilst Christen and Tobin got changed. When you came out your were wearing some shorts and a sports bra.

“Those pictures you sent really didn’t do you justice” You blushed at Christen’s statement remembering sending those photos to her.

You lay on the bed between Tobin and Christen and Tobin begins scanning your body and you knew exactly what she was doing.

“This one is new” she says pointing to a scar on your leg then placing a kiss on it.

“So is this one” christen says and she copies what Tobin did.

You had several new scars, none no bigger than a quarter but your girlfriends were very observant.

“We’re not playing this game, despite how much I love where it is leading”

Tobin hold her hands up in defence.

“We just worry” Christen tells you.

“I know you do”

You kiss her forehead and then kiss Tobin’s.

“Is that a new hoodie?” You ask Tobin.

“It is” she replies.

You look at her giving her your best puppy dog eyes. You loved Tobin’s clothes and often stole them.

You watch her take her hoodie off and give it to you.

“It’s smells just like you” you say as you put it on “thank you” you kiss her cheek.

You lay between your girlfriends as you all watch a film. These are the moments you missed, when it was just the three of you.

“We’re really happy you’re home” christen tells you.

“I’ll always come back you”

[write-orflight]

The Fraction of Innocence.

**Gif Not Mine**

Anon Requested: 10, 16, and 25 for the smutty prompts thing!!!

10: “were you just touching yourself?” ‘yeah, what are you donna do about it?’

16: “the only way you are gonna get off is on my thigh.”

25: “she may be all lollipops and candy bars, but I bet behind closed doors she’s hand cuffs and gags.”

Pairings: SpencerXReader

Rating: M, (This is very explicit.)

Words: 4K

Warnings: NSFW!!! 18+ (Dom!Spencer, BDSM overtones, sexual conduct, fingering, bondage, etc.)

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Spencer thinks Y/N is an innocent, naive girl until a case reveals her extracurricular activities. 

Spencer had been back from jail for 2 months when he first met her. 

At first he didn’t think anything of her, other than the faint smell of vanilla and daisy as she walked past him in the bullpen and the bright smile that seemed to take up half her face. She was carrying files close to her chest like a schoolgirl late to class and the skirt of her white dress bellowed softly behind her as she made her way to Emily’s office.  

“Who is that?” He had asked. 

Luke looked up to where Spencer’s gaze was. “Oh, that’s Y/N, she's a tech analyst helping Penelope out right now. She’s sweet, you’ll like her.”  

It doesn’t take Spencer long after that to decide he, in fact, does not like you. There was nothing wrong with you. Luke was right, you were sweet, almost sickeningly so. It was like you had no concept of reality. You lived in this world of all sunshine and good things despite the horror that crossed your screen daily. And while Penelope was the same, she at the very least knew how bad the world could be and chose to see the good in it. You didn’t, it was like you’d never had a single bad thing happen to you. And Spencer, who had been dealt the bad hand so many times in life hated that. 

It also didn’t help that you were gorgeous too. You looked like an artist sculpted you himself to make the perfect woman. Real People weren’t supposed to look like that. Real people were supposed to have flaws and blisters. Real people were supposed to look tired so early in the morning not fully awake and smiling while handing everyone in the office a coffee. He didn’t understand how you could be real.   

“Here you go, Spencer. Americano lots of sugar.” You said, placing the coffee on his desk. 

“Thank you.” He mumbles. 

“We have a case, by the way.” You giggle, going off to hand Luke his coffee before walking away to the conference room. Spencer was barely able to keep his eye roll at bay. 

Luke sees that and laughs, clapping Spencer on the back. “Come on, kid. Play nice.” 

“She’s giggling about a murder case.” Spencer grumbles before following him into the conference room. 

“3 women have been murdered in Queens. Judging by the scars, they were all bound and strangled before finally being dumped in an alley.” Garcia says, as she goes through the slides, showing the crime scenes. “Police need our help finding the connection between these three women because right now, it looks like there is none.” 

“I’d say.” Tara speaks up. “We have a waitress/student, a doctor, and a paralegal. All living in different areas of the city with virtually no reason to interact.” 

Spencer looks down at his file, examining the picture when he notices something. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, you clear your throat.  

“Umm, Emily?” You say from your seat right across from Spencer. Emily looks up inquisitively at you. “I think I know what connects them.” 

“What’s that, Y/N?” Emily asks, raising a brow at her.  

You clear your throat again. “Victim #2, Rebecca Belfront, has a Padlock collar necklace on in her second picture. That’s typically used to indicate she’s a submissive with a committed dominant partner. But she wasn’t wearing it when her body was found which makes me think that that relationship recently ended. That made me look at the marks on their arms. While there are some new ones from the murders, they all have faded marks around the wrist and body as well. Leads me to believe the bounding was er-... consensual. We should probably look into New York’s BDSM scene.” You close, smiling awkwardly. 

Spencer looks at you in shock. He, of course, had come to the same conclusion you did and had been about to say that but he, at least, knew why he knew that. Why did you know that? 

Emily hummed thoughtfully. “It’s worth looking into. Do you mind coming to NY with us? Your insight might be needed.” 

You look kind of shocked at that but nod. “Of course, whatever I can do to help.” You say, softly. 

“Great, Wheels up in 30.” She says, getting up, effectively ending the meet. Spencer watches you speed after her, files in hand to ask some more questions. Spencer’s walking back to his desk when Luke catches up with him. 

“Y/N has a dark side. Who knew?” He says, smirking. 

“Probably not.” Spencer muses. “She could’ve just known that. I mean, I  just know stuff sometimes too.” 

“Nah, I don’t think so. Her body language gave her away. She was flushing and stuttering sure, but she was confident in what she was saying. Almost as if, she was speaking from experience.” Luke laughs. “She may be all lollipops and candy bars here, but I bet behind closed doors, she’s handcuffs and gags.”  

Spencer hums. “Maybe.” He says looking up to watch you walk back across the catwalk from Prentiss’ office. Luke was right though, your body language did give you completely away that you were talking from experience. Spencer couldn’t help but wonder just how much. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------- 

When you arrive in New York, You head straight from the jet to the Police Station in Queens. You fiddle with your thumbs a bit, you are nervous. 

“You ok?” Spencer says, from his spot in front of the bulletin board he was setting up. You were supposed to be helping him but you knew Spencer was particular about some things so you let him do it. In fact, there were a lot of things you’d let Spencer do. With you, to you, you weren’t picky. The man was gorgeous enough to make you nervous. With his lean muscles, long, fluffy hair, and large hands, he looked like something that walked right out of a wet dream of yours. Which sometimes, he was just that. You weren’t stupid though, you knew Spencer didn’t think of you that way. In fact, you didn’t think Spencer thought of you in any way. He seemed to ignore you anyway he could. 

You look up from your laptop. “Oh yea, I’m fine. I’m just...nervous. I’ve never been in the field.” 

“Chances are you won’t be, Emily will probably keep you in the Station if she can help it.” Spencer provides. 

“I know, it’s just-- you know what I mean.” You say, Spencer nods before returning to the bulletin board. You stand to look at the map with him. “So, from what I was able to find there’s only 3 BDSM clubs in Queens but there’s only one in the middle of where the three women were found. Place called Cat’s Cradle.” 

Spencer hums. “How complicated and unpredictable the machinery of life really is.” You look up at the man, recognizing the quote.  

“There is love enough in this world for everybody, if people will just look.” You say back, shrugging. 

“You read Vonnegut?” He asks. 

“You said that like you’re more surprised that I can read than what I read being Vonnegut.” You say, Spencer shrugs not even denying it. God, he was such a dick sometimes. A hot dick, but a dick nonetheless. 

The two of you turn when you hear a knock at the door to see the lead detective coming in to check on you guys. “Just wanted to see how things were coming along. Also see if you guys needed anything?” Though he only directed the question at you with a sly smirk on his face. Men were so obvious sometimes. 

“Nope, we’re fine.” You smile although you didn’t want to. “We’ve narrowed down to a couple BDSM clubs so hopefully we’ll catch our guy soon.” 

“Wait, you think these girls were…” He trails off. You nod, knowing what he was thinking. “Well, it probably serves them right.” 

“Excuse me?” You say. 

“Listen, I know what kind of girls go into those kinds of clubs. If they want to be sexual deviants, they can’t be surprised when shit like this happens to them.” He gestures to the board. 

“Actually more women are into Dominant/Submissive as well as BDSM relationships than you would think, statistically 85%.” Spencer cuts him off. “These clubs are just commonplace for them to meet like minded people just like you would do in any other club and they should be put on trial after their deaths for trusting the wrong person. If you don’t mind, we’d like to get back to work, Detective.” He says, turning back towards the board. The man nods and leaves shortly after that. 

“Thank you.” You say, softly. 

“What for?” Spencer asks. 

“Come on, I work with profilers and I’m not stupid. I know you guys know about me so thank you for defending me just now.” 

“I wasn’t defending you.” Spencer says. “He was making inappropriate comments about victims and we don’t need that outdated way of thinking working on this case. Besides…” He says, eyes flickering down to your lips and back to your eyes. “You’re not the only one with… unconventional extracurriculars.” He turns and walks out after that leaving you watching after him. 

What? 

------------------------------------------------------------------

 After delivering the profile, you find the Unsub, a man named Ivan Parke. The only thing left to do was find the best way to snuff him out. When the team is discussing the next best course of action. It’s then Luke comes up with the idea. 

“We should send Y/N undercover.” He says. “She knows the profile and knows the most about the scene.” 

Emily nods. “Is that something you’re comfortable with, Y/N.” 

You look up. “Oh, um yea. I’d have to find a different outfit but you have to send someone with me.” You say, everyone looks at you confused so you sigh and explain yourself. “If you send me into a club like this, in a foreign place with no Dom, the Unsub isn’t going to be my only worry. Someone’s going to have to play my dominant.”   

“I’ll do it.” Spencer speaks up. Your eyes widened, you were not expecting Spencer to agree to it, you assumed you’d be stuck with Luke. Now you’re going to have to spend the night with the man you’d been crushing on since you started working with the BAU as his submissive. Like that wasn’t a dream come true. 

“Great.” Emily says, dismissing everyone and handing you an expense credit card for an outfit. You take it and leave immediately, ignoring the sly look Spencer gives you. 

You ended with a short, low-cut black leather dress with tank-like sleeves that showed off your curves and left very little to the imagination. As well as a clear pair of platform heels. You pulled your hair back into a sleek ponytail and you topped the look with your own personal leather choker with a large circle knob in the center. It was one of your favorite pieces to wear though you never really got a chance to wear it unless you were going to clubs, which you didn’t do as often these days. It was an expensive piece sure, but so worth it when you got to wear it. You were doing your makeup a little darker then you usually do in the bathroom when Spencer comes in. 

“Is this how you typically look on the weekends?” He asks, standing behind you in the mirror. You look up to look him in the eyes through it. 

“If I have the time.” You shrug. 

“It’s very different. You’re very different from how I thought you were.” 

“And how did you think I was, Spencer?”

“Naive...innocent.”   

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have assumed anything about me.” You say, turning towards the man. 

“Maybe you’re right… That’s an expensive piece.” He points out pointing to your choker. “Emily’s going to have fun explaining that at the next budgetary hearing.” 

“I didn’t buy it today.” You explain. “It’s mine.” 

Spencer hums for a moment before lifting his hand to turn your jaw, examining the piece. You can’t help the way your breath hitches at the contact. Spencer was already so close to you and now he was touching you, it was already starting to be too much. Soon, Spencer is hooking two fingers into the circle knob of your choker and he yanks it. Involuntarily, a whimper falls from your lips, prompting a smirk from the man across from you. 

“Tonight’s going to be fun.” He says before leaving you in the bathroom in a state of shock. 

-------------------------------------------------------- 

 After getting your comms set up by Luke, who tried to avert his eyes from your frame as much as possible, you and Spencer walk into the Cat’s Cradle. Typically you didn’t like the club scene, but you sometimes liked to venture out when looking for a new partner. Cat’s Cradle was definitely different than the other places you had been. Sure it still had the private rooms and the main stage where a scene was happening in front of you but it was a lot more laid back than the ones you went to in DC. Spencer was really enjoying his role too. Probably hamming it up too much because he knew there was a part of you that actually wanted him to. In the end, finding Ivan Parke was easy. He took the bait almost instantly and you were arresting him just as fast. 

“Great work tonight guys.” Emily says, when you reach the hotel lobby. “Jet’s leaving at 7AM so make sure to get some rest.” She says, dismissing you. 

Now begged a tricky situation because you had almost forgotten you and Spencer were rooming together. As you walked back to the room together the air was thick but both of you were silent. The tension had been building between the two of you since he yanked your choker in the station bathroom. You knew it was a matter of time. The dam had to break. 

“You can shower first.” Spencer says. You nod, taking off your choker and grabbing clothes before taking solace in the bathroom. You wanted Spencer and you knew you needed to expedite this. After a much needed shower, you change into your pajama shorts and tank combo. Spencer steps into the shower almost as soon as you leave it. It’s then that you think of the perfect plan. You lay on the bed and spread your legs before slipping a hand down your shorts. You tease yourself at first, rubbing your clit through your underwear while you thought about the events of the night. How Spencer had been so authoritative. How his hand slid to the small of your back and sometimes ghosted your ass as the two of you walked around the club. How he had been so close in the bathroom. The way he yanked you closer. A small moan escaped you as you slid your hand in your underwear. Soon you hear the bathroom door open. Spencer stops short, watching you before leaning on the frame. 

“Were you just touching yourself?”

“Yes.” You answer. “Are you gonna to do something about it?” 

“Should I? Instead of telling me what you want you decide to act like a brat and do this.” 

Spencer moves closer to the bed but doesn’t do anything, just continues to watch you so you decide to give him a show. Moaning loudly as you slide a digit inside of you. Spencer looks at you with hooded eyes. You can’t help the small laugh that leaves you. 

“I think you’re going to give me what I want.” You say, smirking. 

“And why’s that?” He says. 

“You’re already weak.” You say. 

“I’m weak, pretty girl?” He asks, incredulously. Before you know it, he’s ripping your hand out of your pants and crowding in the space between your legs forcing you to sit up and look at him. “You’re in here touching yourself to the thought of me like a horny teenager and I’m the one who’s weak? Ok.”  He sits back and pulls you by your hips to sit on top of his lap, your legs straddling one of his thighs. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh, ok?” He tells you, starting to move your hips. You moan, nodding your head as the friction makes its way through your core. Spencer lifts your shirt off you and smirks when his eyes land on your bare breast. He leans forward to catch your left nipple in his mouth. Your back arches as you grind harder against his thigh. Your hands fly up to start unbuttoning his shirt when he stops you. 

“Did I say you could touch yet, princess?”  He asks. 

“N-No, sir.” You stutter. 

“Then keep your hands to yourself.” He says, putting your hands back to your side. He does indulge you by taking his shirt off himself. But that doesn’t help you keep your hands to yourself. You saw the lean muscle and craved to mark it up with your nails. Your hands go up to touch him again but he stops you. 

“If I have to ask you again, I’m going to tie you up, Princess. Just be good, baby.” 

You were already close before but now with Spencer’s hands and mouth everywhere and constant friction on your sex it was damn near pushing you off the edge. 

“I’m gonna come.” You tell him, he grips your hips tighter, lifting his leg slightly so he was only rubbing against your clit. That makes you moan out loudly. 

“Go ahead, Princess. Cum for me.” He says, and that was all you needed to fall right over the edge. Your legs shake and convulse as Spencer grips your hips help you ride it out.  Soon you come down panting and he’s kissing into your neck. He pulls back and grips your jaw. 

“Still think I’m weak, Princess?”  He asks. 

You knew it was unwise. In fact, you tried to stop yourself before you did it but it was too late. You reared your hand back and slapped Spencer across the cheek. Not hard enough to be seen as anything malicious but sharp enough to throw him off, like he couldn’t believe you had done it.  

“Yes I do.” You say looking him in the eyes after. Something like a switch went off because there was no other way to describe the look he gave you other than feral and fully primitive. He pushes you off him. 

“Get on your hands and knees, now.” He says, menacingly. You scramble and run to get into the position. Once in, Spencer forces your knees further apart. He angrily takes his belt off his pants before fashioning them into a makeshift cuff and pulling your wrist so they’re tied behind your back, leaving you face down into the mattress. He slides your shorts and underwear off in one go. You yelp loudly when the first slap comes to your behind. When the second and third slap comes, you try to squeeze your legs together to get some form of friction but Spencer forces your knees further apart. You moan out when you feel a digit slide against your folds. You try to push back on it but Spencer holds your hips in place. 

“P-Please.” you stutter. 

“What do you want, Princess?” He says, sliding a second digit inside you making you cry out more. 

“Please, fuck me, Spencer.” You say, and you really didn’t have to ask twice because almost as soon as you ask Spencer’s hands leave you to finish unbuckling his pants. There’s a brief moment of calm, so calm that you almost think Spencer wasn’t going to give you what you want but that calm is interrupted by Spencer slamming into, no warning. You scream out but that’s only rewarded with your head being shoved more into the mattress to muffle your cries. Spencer’s hands are pulling on your cuffs so he is almost impossibly deep inside you. You moans start to get louder and louder. Suddenly, Spencer is pulling you up so you’re both sitting up, your back against his chest. One of his hands slides to grip around your neck while the other is moving to circle your clit. The hand around your neck tilts your jaw back so you’re looking up at the man behind you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. Open your mouth, Princess.” He orders, which you do instantly sticking your tongue out. Spencer leans forward and spits into your waiting mouth before locking his mouth with yours. His hand squeezes your neck tighter as you moan into his mouth as he starts fucking you faster, his dick hitting your g-spot almost every thrust. It’s not long before you’re just babbling, not even able to string a coherent sentence together. 

“You gonna come for me, Princess?” He asks. You nod, moaning loudly. At this point, you knew there was no way the person in the room next to you guys didn’t hear you. You could only hope that it wasn’t one of the team. “Go ahead for me, baby. Be a good girl and come on my cock.” After that, it doesn’t take long before you’re falling over the edge, shaking all the while. Spencer fucks you through it before tightening his grip on your hips to bend you back forwards so your face is back on the mattress. He fucks you hard and fast before falling over the edge himself, moaning your name. 

The two of you say nothing as he unties you. When he does, you instantly flop down on your back, breathing heavily. Spencer wordlessly gets up and goes to the bathroom. For a moment you think he’s just leaving you like this, that you were foolish to think Spencer cared anything about you but in that moment he comes back with a wet cloth and ointment. He says nothing as he wipes between your legs before tossing the towel aside. You watch him with a smirk on your face as he rubs the ointment on the red marks the red cuffs made on you. 

He looks you in the eye. “What, Y/N?” 

“What happened to Princess?” You say, Spencer just looks at you with a bored expression which only makes you smile more. “Now’s probably a good time for you to ask me to dinner.” 

Spencer chuckles lightly at that. “You don’t want to go to dinner with me.” 

“I’m almost positive I do. Why would you say that?” You ask. 

Spencer looks you in the eyes at that moment. “I’m not-Y/N, I’m not like you.” 

“Like me?” 

“I’m not able to be cheery and smiley. I can’t float into rooms. I can’t be happy like you are, too much has happened to me. You deserve someone happy.” 

“Spencer.” You say, looking him in the eyes. “You are not broken. You can be happy, it’s going to take time sure but I’m willing to be with you through that. If you want that.” You say. 

Spencer nods. “Ok, Y/N.” he smiles. 

“So….?” 

He rolls his eyes at that. “What’re you doing next sunday?” 

You smile, brightly. “Absolutely nothing.”    

Perm. Taglist: @moonshinerbynight​ @crimeshowtrash​