I have too much free time

Alright, so I wrote a little something. Please mind that I haven’t written in years, so I kinda took something I wrote years ago and played around with it to make it more “Fexi”. Ignore all the errors, misspelling, shit grammar, and everything in between.. honestly just pretend it’s not there.

No summary because I suck at them. Just the morning after....

Be kind. Seriously, it’s been YEARS since I’ve wrote ff.  K- it’s under the cut, enjoy, I guess?

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Fezco woke to soft sheets wrapped around the frame of his body, and the morning light trickling in through the blinds. Though his mind had begun to shed the remaining glimpses of a dream, he kept his eyes shut as he soaked in the warmth of the covers. His lungs collapsed as he sighed with satisfaction. And again inhaled deeply as he quite easily caught a vanilla-esque scent, filling his lungs as the flashbacks of the night before played in his sleepy mind.

It was visions of bare bodies caressing, kissing and tasting every bit of each other. Their skin brushing and pressing flush together. The memories brought with them an acknowledgement of the raw intensity of their love-making. Their rapid heart beats and heavy breathing. Almost like a dream. 

An intoxicating dream, an aphrodisiacal dream.

Slowly, Fez opened his eyes, blinking a few times, adjusting to the sun-rays that had peaked through the window. A soft snore brought him further away from the sleep-induced haze in his mind. For a moment, he had thought the night before was a mere dream. 

Fez turned his head to where he’d heard the noise had come from, and his tired blue eyes found Lexi lying next to him, burrowed deep under his fuzzy cover. The sun-rays bounced off of Lexi’s dark locks, giving her an angel-like glow,  and her hair fanning out on her pillow like a halo.

He dared himself to inch closer to the young woman, lifting his hand and allowing himself to trace the bare skin of the brunette's arm, which was stretched out next to him. Fez’s fingertips were so close to him, and something about the close proximity sent sparks down his spine, the feeling ending and pooling in the pit of his stomach, goosebumps rising on his nude body. 

A low moan left Fezco’s lips, as he thought back to the night before, remembering those same fingers wrapped around him, giving him the greatest pleasure he’s ever received. Fez remembered his body trembling as he came, experiencing a, dare he say, earth-shattering, orgasm. 

He moved a bit, slowly shifting a little closer,  and lowering himself down to meet the fingertips as once again dared himself to bring his lips to them, to kiss them. He did, his lips gently kissing the brunette's fingers, and god, he can still taste her, smell her on them; remembering how Lexi played with herself before he took over. And that realization sent a gush of arousal between his thighs. 

A pair of piercing, sleepy honey eyes slowly fluttered open, and Fez pulled away sharply, embarrassed to be found in such an intimate and, well, awkward position. The rays of the morning sun softened the brunette’'s facial features, making her look rather like an innocent child that had just woken from a nap. The corners of the her lips formed up to a small grin.

“’Fez.” Her voice was raspy with sleep. Lexi's honey eyes locked with Fez’s blue, soft but intensity-filled, and another spark shot through his body.His eyes shifted away from Lexi’s.

He felt the bed shift, and Fez could feel Lexi’s body-heat nearing. 

Fez tried to control, or suppress, the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach, but then, god, that fucking vanilla, cream-like scent once again hit him, sending waves of arousal through his body. Fez shuddered, shaking slightly, but it wasn't until he felt a small, delicate, warm hand tracing his cold skin did he completely still.

“Look at me.” her voice was insistent, but soft. 

He slowly lifted his eyes, realizing that the brunette’s own honey eyes hadn’t left his. Fez forced a small smile, and a small chuckle passed his lips. 

Here he was, underneath a beautiful, nude woman, and he was scared. Fez had never felt so vulnerable. He watched Lexi take the very fingers he had kissed and reach toward him. He closed his eyes and leaned into Lexi’s gentle touch trace his jawline delicately, afraid to break. “You’re so beautiful.” she husked, and Fez swore he could’ve, and might’ve, cried right then and there. 

“You scare me.” he finally confessed, his heart beating rapidly. 

“Why?”

Fez once again opened his eyes, and still was greeted with his favorite honey eyes staring at him. His gaze fell to Lexi’s pink, full lips before shifting back to the honey pair, and without fail he lost himself deep in them.

His hands on the back of Lexi’s body and began tracing the small curve of her spine, feeling goosebumps under his fingertips as he licked his dry lips and swallowed the lump in his throat, “Because you make me feel alive.”

Definitely, maybe.

Part five: The one who belongs to someone else.

Introduction. Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four.

Paring: Latina!reader x Logan Lerman x Tom Holland x Ben Hardy x Timothee Chalamet x Pedro Pascal x Michael B. Jordan

Warnings: Swearing, angst, misspellings, some Spanish, me learning how to write properly, and NY stuff that I've learned from movies that we all agree to pretend are real.

Word count: 6.4 k

a/n: You been asking for smut, I know, I know, I just wanted to introduce you to all the boys first, and we're getting there, just one more ahead. Also, I'm working on a masterlist because we are getting too many parts already.

All body types and skin tones friendly. You can also enjoy it as a no Hispanic reader. Constructive feedback and misspellings correction is always welcome.

Red and blue lights flash the driving mirror.

—No, no, no, por favor que no sea a mi—You beg to the sky looking at the patrol that is asking you to park, or someone else, there's a lot of cars in this part of the city, there's a big chance is the panic who's controlling your senses.—Dios, mi abuela fue a la iglesia cada domingo de su vida y nunca te pidió nada, please let me have some of her divina recompensa.—But that's not how it works, you end up parking with just a few seconds to think what to say. There's a perfect explication of why you are driving a car that is not yours in the middle of the night and smelling like a minibar.

Then this ridiculous thought comes to your mind, you look expensive, you've never seen the daughter of a senator but you must be close to it, it would make you less of a feminist if you just use your attributes? Ugh, you feel sick just to think about it but don't have enough money to pay a fine, and the constant paranoia of being chased all the time as an immigrant will only get stronger.

You pull down your dress a little so your neckline can do its job but you regret it immediately, and you're pretty sure you look more like an expensive prostitute who stole the car of his lover than some influential men's daughter.

—License and registration.—You hear him say when he approaches your window. You don't like this but you have to play the dumb tourist, the pretty foreign girl that is too stupid to be dangerous, with the look you have tonight it shouldn't be hard. But damn you hate cops, any uniformed man that works for the government is your eternal enemy, and you don't know how long you could keep the nice dumb Latina game before spit on his face.

—There's something wrong, officer? ...You?!—Your sexy and fake high voice is ruined when you see the face of the man who stopped you. This night couldn't get worse.

—Wait, what happened with the party?—Evan interrupts you while you finish some notes for work, little remainders for later when you don't have an eleven years old kid running around you, he's not usually this energic and you have to blame yourself for that, you're describing a life of excess and eccentric fun, something you let behind so many years ago that your own son doesn't know even a bit of it.

—Ugh, a nightmare doesn't worth telling.—You remember vaguely most of it but what keeps fresh in your mind is bad enough to don't want to bring it back.

—But if Timothée is my dad I have to know the important things, including the bad stuff.—Sounds perfectly reasonable and that's what makes you groan at him. Sometimes you feel blessed that your kid is better than you in any possible way, and sometimes you want to kill his brain with video games and reality shows like the rest of the parents.

—Ok, cool, but I'll keep all the +18 content for myself, so this part of the story might be blurry for you.—It kinda is for you anyway.

You should’ve known this night was cursed, you had a feeling because a) your earring fell off at the same time Timothée texted you to give you the party address and say he can't pick you up. And b) he won’t pick you up. Your mother would say that’s reason enough to not go, a real gentleman wouldn’t make you go to an unknown place in the middle of the night on your own in a city like this. But you decide to ignore it because you are a modern woman and because it’s worth it. It better be.

The outfit must be something special. You always take your time to choose what to wear, even if just another regular day, and since this isn't the case you thought about it for hours, that made your mind busy enough to not thinking about Tom and the whole love confession. He texted you saying he'll come for you to go to class together on Monday, which is completely impractical because he's way closer than you but is progress and you're going to take it.

You wanted to ask for Sheep's opinion but you thought she might not care, has been a few days since she started acting strange like she's bothered just to see you breathe. You want to blame his boyfriend to take all her time and attention from you but is probably just her new job, she got a small role in a Netflix show, and even when you're so happy for her, that's the event that has changed her into someone completely different. But you give her time, stress can do bad things to people.

The winner is the exact copy you made of the black and white striped dress Cameron Diaz wore in "The Mask" beautiful, classy, and sexy enough without being too scandalous, not that you have any problem with that, but this isn't the occasion, you don't want to feel like you're being too much or too little, just enough, it's supposed to be easy, right? you were born for this. Just adding some big shiny earrings you got on a thrift shop that look like real diamonds and you're ready, not that you own any to compare. Red lipstick, dark eyes, and a messy bun to get that disinterested pitch every look needs.

Getting there wasn't a problem, you were in the rich part of the city, everyone know who, where and what just to brag about it. The excitement is growing with every second, you check your makeup like thirty times in the elevator and send texts to your mom just to let her know where you are, and because you have to share that moment with someone and you are limited of friends these days.

Timothée opens the door with red eyes, drunk, high, or somewhere in between, you know then you were right about the bad feeling. He jumps on you to kiss you and no matter how much you try to explain the delicacy of your lipstick, he does it anyway, leaving a taste of alcohol and shrimps in your mouth. Taking you by the waist he walks you to a group of people you don't know while you're trying harder to fix the red color of your mouth without a mirror.

—Here is the companion I bought, look at her, that's how five grand per hour look like.—They laughed but you were too disoriented to process all the things he said, it was supposed to be a joke? if it is, why isn't he correcting? Instead, his hand goes straight to your ass and presses it to get you closer to him.

—I'm actually an intern in the costume designer department of the new version of "Sense and Sensibility".—You wanted to mention your recent promotion to hairstylist and makeup artist but that might be too pretentious. Anyway, they don't seem to care what you are or not, in fact, they don't even see you, all eyes are on Timothée

—Oh, well, is easy to forget when you're paying them—All laughs again. Who is this person? Who are all these people, actually? You recognize some influencers, a few cast members but there's no sign of the director, other main actors, not even his co-star. You feel like an extra in a movie where someone will be killed in a luxury party, hopefully not you. You take his hand from your body and clear your throat.—I'm just joking my love, she looks stunning, isn't she? I’ll get you a drink.

He leaves and the group of people surrounding you suddenly dissipated like boiling water, you were on your own again and despite some judgmental gazes is like you’re not there, you’re sure you could just take your dress off and throw it to someone’s face and unless Tim says something about it, no one would care. You’re there as his companion, an ornament, and that’s not enough to earn their attention because it’s too obvious you’re the one in turn.

You walk to the only window no one is smoking and check your phone, you know, the thing you do when you pretend you have important issues to attend, but no, you end reading some old messages, pictures, texting your mom of how much fun you’re having at the party, and somehow you check your filed Facebook messages to find Logan’s name. You cover the screen so fast you hurt your nail, his name is enough to make you tremble like a Chihuahua, you haven’t talked to him since that night, you know from his sister he lives in the house he bought for you two and he’s having the happiest life without you. You want to believe that because that means you took the right decision but deep inside… no, you can’t be that person, you want him to be happier than ever.

You find the guts to open the message, and you read as slowly as is humanly possible. “My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health…” Dios, just Logan could start a message like that, your smile is almost too big to fit in your face so you bit your nail to cover it a little. “I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you’ll be happy to know…”

—That’s a fucking long-ass message.—Tim appears behind you and takes your phone from your hand, spilling some of his drink on your dress in the process. Apparently, he's been there long enough to read part of the message.

—Give it back.—You command in the most severe voice you have, your magical moment got ruined and you remember the hole of hell you are.

—"My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health. I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you must know I still use them now and then"—Timothée starts reading the message, and even when no one is close enough to hear it and you don’t really care about this people’s opinion, that’s not for anyone to read, that’s one of the few parts of your life you treasure the most and you’re not ready to get over it.—You little slut, are you cheating on me with a med student?

—Give it to me.—You repeat trying to take the phone from his hand but he’s faster and walks away putting it out of your reach.

—"I meticulously preserve them, I certainly know any piece of art made by you will be priceless in the near future"—You don’t want to hear it coming from his drunk mocking voice, so you try to ignore what he’s saying and put more effort on chasing the phone.—Should I had kept the jeans where you left the wet spot on? I didn’t know you were an artist, my love.

—Timothée, por el amor de Dios.—Now you're trying to climb him, it wouldn't be that hard to take him down, he's skinny and you're fierce. That's what you thought but he's not moving even with you are on top of his shoulder and his opposite long arm keeps the phone away from you.

—Who is this guy and why is he talking to my girl like this?—You see the olive eyes getting darker and the tone of his voice went deeper than you thought he could do. You desist from taking the phone, you know the bullies love the attention, maybe that's exactly what he wants and give it to him just makes it worse.

—I'm not your girl.—You claim fixing up your dress having enough of games, and you have no reason to keep worrying about losing your job, the filming is done, and apparently your relationship with him too. You don't care about any of that anymore, just want to read Logan's text.

Even behind all the alcohol and the eyes injected in blood thanks for who knows what kind of drug, you can see the disappointment and anger, but it's not a broken heart, Is the hissy fit of a child that loses his balloon and now everyone will pay for it, especially you.

—Are you sure about that?—You can see him swallow hard, almost looking vulnerable, but his voice is defiant and threatening to prove you wrong. He just has to stretch out his arm to reach the open window with your phone in hand, his intentions are clear and the only thing you can do is raise your hands as a reflex.—You were mine the moment you put a foot on my trailer, and I don't fucking share my stuff.—Before you can say a word he drops the phone from the fourth floor.

You know is senseless but you find yourself running out of the party and going to search the device, using it also as an excuse to get away from that place. This is the first time someone makes you feel meaningless, you know the famous' world is cold and lacking in empathy but this is ridiculous, they're a bunch of parasites fed by attention and power. By Timothée.

The screen is crashed and the rest of it is probably beyond repair, not that you're surprised, its life is longer than you've been in the country and you admit you should have replaced it much earlier but you're not the kind to throw away things that still work. However, is not the phone you are worried about, not as much as what it contains.

—That was obsolete anyway, I'll get you a better one.—You didn't know he was following you, his voice interrupts your self-wailing. He sounds calmer and a little embarrassed, but not enough to say sorry, you don't think he's capable of saying it.

You shake your head and start to walk away without a word, you don't want anything from him, not materially, at least.

—Don't make a scandal out of it, it's just a phone!—He yells erasing any trace of regret in his voice. He doesn't see the reaction he expected and that's when he runs after you and with a hand on your upper arm pulls you back, you gasped for the sudden bluntness.—That annoying habit you have of leaving when I'm talking to you.

You push him away with all the strength you have, which resulted in him almost falling on the ground.

—I don't care about the stupid phone!—You finally break, but sadly is not as satisfactory as you thought it would be.—You are mean, vain, arrogant and the worst part is that you enjoy being this despicable human because you have absolutely no consequences to it. Everyone around you just accepts it and I feel so sorry for you because the only possible way for you to fill the void inside is to be surrounded by that crowd of mules licking your steps—To your surprise, he has nothing to say, he's just standing there with no facial expression, whatever he feels is easily covered by his years of experience acting, even drunk.—I can't give you that and it's obvious they don't want me either. What am I even doing here?—You ask yourself thinking where would be the best way of getting a cab, is a rich zone, must be easy.

—Everything is better when you're around—His voice is thin and fragile, you have to process what he said three times in your head to understand his words. You're not willing to look at him yet.—You're not like the others.

—Pure bullshit. You love to repeat that misogynist discourse of girls being in a certain way because is easier than be responsible for the people you choose to be—You were hugging yourself the whole time, is a cold night, but not enough to be bothersome, you enjoy Fall weather—You got me for a moment, I give you that, you fooled me but I'm too tired of guessing what version of you is real—When you return your gaze at him, he doesn't try to hide the guilt anymore, but there's still haughtiness in there.—Now, if you don't mind Mr. Chalamet, I need to get a cab.

—No, you came with me, you leave with me.—There's no trace of alcohol in his voice anymore, a good scolding is enough to put you sober, you know that thanks to your mom. Oh god, you're becoming her.

—You didn't bring me here, gigantic head—You look at him and put your hand in front of him with the palm up. He stares at it for several seconds before put his own on it—Not that!—You shake it and start looking inside his jeans pockets until you feel the metal of his key car.—You can't drive and I have to get home. You'll find it in the studio tomorrow.

That's how you ended with a car way more luxurious than you expected, driving so slowly and carefully that the police stopped you. What a night, but at this point, you couldn't care less about anything that is not that message, is been months and you can't get over it, over him. Not even Ben moans, Tom's comforting arms, or fight with a movie star at 3:00 am. is enough to get him out of your mind.

—So is true, you don't wear anything that hasn't appeared in a movie, huh?—Michael B. Jordan is leaning on the car window with a mocking smile and a sparkle of satisfaction that you would love to punch but his uniform keeps you in line, where you come from police is not equal to justice, most of the times is oppression.

—You know where it's from?—That was kind of comforting, no one at the party noticed. Not that you care.

—Is The Mask, not some Adam Hitchcock's blurb.—He smiles and even when you really don't like him, it's nice to be with a familiar face, you are really tired of running away, scaping for problems that are a result of your null capacity to deal with emotions. Ugh, what a word.

—Is Alfred Hitchcock, actually.—You didn't want to sound priggish, but you correct him with no time to stop yourself, an old habit.

—You got me, smarty, you know more than movies than me. Where did you get this car?—You feel really nervous even when you got this legally, you have your documents and license on time and he's being nice enough to not want to run away in a car that you technically borrowed for yourself.

—It's not mine.—No shit, Sherlock.

—No shit, Sherlock, I was asking where did you steal it.—You wanted to laugh but there's something with the uniform that just doesn't allow you to be yourself.—Are you drunk?

—No, no, fuck, no, it's just, I don't feel comfortable with cops—He raises his eyebrows but that is his only reaction.—Listen, is my boss' car, I'm doing the favor to take it to the studio, and I'm really nervous because is fucking expensive, he's an asshole, I haven't drive un almost a year because you people only use cars if you're rich or your work and lives depend on it. I'm starving.—The last part came out of nowhere, you haven't eaten anything in almost 13 hours, maybe that's the actual reason why you are that moody.

He doesn't answer right away, takes his time to look at you, what makes you blush, he's really close, closer than he's ever been. Does he smell like green apples? Not the actual apples, the artificial smell they had given to them.

—Get out of the car.—Oh no, is he arresting you? Is he finally taking revenge for every time you make fun of his Hawaiian-type shirts? You know you have too much karma accumulated and a cop making you pay for it when you don’t believe in their sense of justice is kinda poetic, and evil.

You don’t want to discuss with someone with a taser, gun, pepper spray, or who knows what else. So you take your bag, the key car, and get off defeated.

—My turn is almost over, I’ll take you to eat something, c’mon.—He walks back to his patrol and you stay still for a few seconds still processing his words, you must look totally devastated for him to offer that. How you see it you have two options, go with him and spend an awkward hour with a person you don’t like or risk getting a fine, Tim can pay it, it’s not a big deal but you don’t want to owe him even the minimal thing.

You get in the car holding on to your bag to feel calmer, this is the first time you’re fully alone with him since you found him half-naked in your kitchen. Those defined abs may never leave your brain.

—Are you cold?—He interrupts your thoughts with his question, you didn’t notice you were shaking. He looks for something under his seat and gives you an NYPD hoodie, you hold it doubting your next move, is not like you don’t appreciate the gesture but it’d be easier to take if it doesn’t get that words printed—Is clean.—He says chuckling when he sees the way you’re looking at it.

—Is not that, just, you know, fuck the police, defund the NYPD, demilitarize the pigs and that stuff.—You say putting on the hoodie anyway, is a cold night and you won't help the institution wearing their propaganda.

—Yeah, I get it, but you can't change the system just from within.—You decide is not the right moment to have a political conversation so you shrug your shoulders and discreetly smell the hoodie, a mix of cologne, green apples, and cheap soap, you know is cheap because you buy the exact same, do its job.

—I'm in the mood for pizza.—You say casually, making a deal to yourself to try to be his friend, he is a small part of your life anyway.—Domino's is open at this time of the night?

—Tell me you're not consuming that shit, dear Lord, you been here for how long, two years? I can't believe your idea of a good pizza is Domino's. Stella hasn't taught you anything?—You're surprised by the level of condescension with a pizza and you mirror his smile, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Your school program includes people from all around the world so you don't have that much experience with actual new yorkers. Logan is rich, so he doesn't really count.

—What's wrong with Domino's? I don't buy much street food, is cheaper to buy things on the food market. Besides, all pizza is good.—The mention of Sheep makes you a little tense, so you don't say anything about it, is not a conversation to have with him.

—Don't blaspheme in the patrol, I just washed it—You laugh, finally, after a terrible weekend. You can see why she likes him, there is something about his voice, smile, and his eyes that feel... calm, like watching Friends after a marathon of Lord of the Rings.—There are rules to survive this city, and I'm surprised you have made it this far without a proper guide.

—Chill out Mr. Miyagi, I'm not from the jungle, and I've learned a lot by myself.—He gives you a lopsided grin as a request, and you put your fingers up ready to enlist your acquired knowledge.—Walk fast, like you're about to be stabbed, something that actually happened to me, with an umbrella—He nods and laughs being related to it.—Number two, no small talk, no one cares, even if they ask. Number three, if you look a stranger in the eye, especially a homeless person, you have essentially invited them to approach you.

—Number four, we never eat from Domino's, Papa John's, Pizza hut, or any other chain restaurant, only trucks and local places are allowed.—You roll your eyes but you get the point, is just, again, you're not much into street food, it doesn't taste like home and the only way to eat food like that is preparing it yourself.

—Fine, fuck capitalism, let's support local places—You make an obvious fake enthusiastic tone but he nods proudly.—Number five, you don't need a car to live here, not even know how to drive. I would have successfully avoided this police brutality if I had followed that rule.

—For someone who is about to eat for free, you whine too much.—He parks the car and gives you a sign to go with him. You see him go to a pizza truck and order, you realize at the moment how ridiculous you look, so before chasing him you let your hair down, take your huge earrings off, and roll up the skirt of your dress until your mid-thighs letting the hoodie cover the rest, and clean the red lipstick with a Kleenex from your bag. Now you look more like a college person and not a rich girl who just got seized.

—Here you go.—He says giving you a slice as big as your head, looks oily and spreading cheese everywhere. Perfect.

—Is it vegan?—You ask receiving the food with an obnoxious face. His kind grind turned into a dread expression and you give him your second laugh of the day.—I'm kidding.

You are about to give it a bite when you see passing next to you a huge rat with the exact same slice as yours in its mouth, running into the dark of the night happy to have obtained the food for its family. They use to scare you when you just moved out but now they're like any other pigeon in the sky.

—Rule... whatever, a rat with a slice of pizza is a symbol for good luck, congratulations.—He pets your head awkwardly, not sure if you're ok with the physical contact, which, surprisingly, you are.

—I see rats with bagels all the time.—Pizza and bagels, that's the main culinary wonders of the city, you like it, not much to object but is hard not to compare it with your home's food.

—Is easy to confuse a rough diamond with a simple rock.—You both eat in silence, enjoying the mixed sounds of the city and all the different smells, the whole situation feels like one of those lofi music videos. You remember thinking about moments like this before getting the scholarship, what would it be like to feel normal in the city of your dreams.

—How do you know that much about movies?—He asks after a few minutes when you take a break to drink something, that pizza is not easy to take.

—When I was a kid a spent much time on my own, so my dad bought me a used DVD reproducer, and at the corner of my neighborhood was this movie store where you could buy 5 pirate movies for one dollar. They were blurred, with a terrible sound, and most of the time with the wrong movie inside but they helped me to not feel lonely. Eventually, the store closed but I've watched everything in it by then—He gives you a warm smile, you never told that story to anyone, not because is too intimate to share, but because no one asked, it doesn't sound like a question with a complex answer.—Anyway, I watched Marie Antoinette when I was like eight, and I decided at that moment that however is done I wanted to be part of that magic.

—You hear all kind of people chasing dreams in this city but is hard to find someone who actually deserves it.—You blush and you cover it with your hair but the smile on your voice is impossible to hide.

—Is that a compliment? You must really want me to like you to date Sheep.—You laugh but you can see his face tense, so you can guess your friend has been busy breaking everyone’s hearts.

—She hasn’t returned my calls in three days so I don’t think there’s much you can do—You nod, all this time you thought he was the reason she is ignoring you but apparently you are both in the same boat.—But yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking, what I should have said is, Marie Antoinette at eight? I can see where all the damage started.

You gasp and throw your napkin at his head, he easily catches it without even looking at it and laughs; that was unexpectedly attractive.

—Why a cop?—You ask, not sure where that question came from, maybe you authentically want to know more about him, he just bought you food, and honestly, that's the easiest way to win your trust.

—I wanted to be an actor when I was a child. This is the city of opportunities so you may think that if you want to chase the big wonder, this is the perfect place to do it. But I grow up surrounded by these people giving their entire lives to get something just given to one in a million so I decided is not worth it. For many years I wondered what I wanted to do with my life and the answer was really clear, my dad was a cop, a good one, or that’s what people say. I don’t remember much because he died when I was seven—Conversations about death are not your strength, everything can turn out uncomfortable if you choose the wrong words.—It might not be that glamorous but if my father died for it, it surely worth it.

—For the good ones.—You raise your almost empty can of Coke and he does the same with a grin that warms the cold weather of the night.

—For the good ones.

The next two hours passed like minutes talking about anything and everything. It just felt right to talk freely with him, you didn’t feel judged for your awkward family moments or your random thoughts, not even once because he told you his too. At some point of the night he borrowed you his gym sweatpants, any of you could just suggest going home but that was off the table, end that peace just for weather reasons would have been a tragedy.

—I read Timothée Chalamet is a dick. Is that true?—The mention of his name remains you of your life and everything that comes with it, including the middle semester project that you must dedicate your entire day, one that is about to start.—What, you can’t talk about it?

—He is a complete dick with no sense of privacy or human decency—And when he interrupts a deep kiss to look at your eyes, smile, and caress your chin, you feel like a character of his Victorian movies. But he didn’t ask that.—But the next week he’ll be no longer my problem.

—That’s why we have rule twenty-three, don’t ask for a picture of a celebrity unless they are local—You have heard about it before but you haven’t got the opportunity to decide if you like that rule because the only celebrities you have seen are from work and that club’s party opening.—That means you’ll be free to go to the Stephen Kings’ movie projection there will be for Halloween.

You don’t know if that was a proposition, a suggestion, or just a simple recommendation, and whatever it is, you noticed he was nervous to ask. Is it wrong? It feels wrong like you were betraying your friend accepting to hang out with his boyfriend without her consent. But he didn’t ask you to go with him so is safe to answer.

—Yeah, I guess—You get a moment, four seconds top, where you shared innocent, curious, and tenting gazes like three graders in the playground. And that’s the further you will allow yourself to go.—We better leave, if the sunlight touch me I’ll turn into dust.

You get off the car hood and go to the side door, but this time he opens it for you. You give him a “seriously?” Look, receiving a little push in your arm as a response.

↬☀︎︎

A distant voice asks you to wake up, softly whispers that turn into caresses on your cheek, your eyes feel so heavy, even when you are well aware of your environment your eyelids keep closed.

—Good morning, Princess—This is the first time Tom calls you that way, the change from silly nicknames to Princess is enough to get you out of hibernation. He is squatting beside your bed, his smile is the promise of a better day, and chasing that idea you give him one small back.—Your mom has been texting me desperately all day, she said you're not answering her calls and is worried.

—Fuck, my phone broke last night, can I call her from yours?—That’s an oversimplification but in the search for a better story, that's what you decide to believe and tell. Tom nods and gives it to you, he looks happy, beyond that, this is the first time you see that subtle blush on his cheeks and the eyes sparkling. You sit on the bed next to his body looking for your mom's number, slowly he moves between your legs, you have shorts and an oversized Back To The Future t-shirt, you got took the time to prepare yourself to bed last night and keep Michael’s clothes inside your closet to wash them, like The Tell-Tale Heart, a little innocent secret who feels dirty somehow

The conversations with your mom are always long, nostalgic and the tears are hard to hold for both parts; after a long life sharing almost every day with her, her absence never feels smaller. But this time is different, Tom is exploring the bare skin under your knee with his warm hands, asking for permission with curious eyes, and when you don’t object to the touch the British boy keeps his exploring mission cautiously, giving special attention to see your eyes in case something change. Is time to hang up when he gives a long and loving kiss to your knee, the less erotic kiss you could think of but so intimate to bristle your skin.

—Not nice to touch someone's daughter when is talking to her mom.—The protest of your voice loses strength at every word, he heard that and just straight his back to reach your face, the gap is almost extinct.

—We're okay, she likes me.—He assures holding your hips and pulling you a bit to him. Tom looks very comfortable with the new closeness authorization, you like it but are not very sure about it yet, most of you still think of him as your best friend.

—Did she tell you that? Are you talking with my mom behind my back?—You laugh when he does, almost like nothing changed.

—She adores me, I swear, I'm invited to Christmas, you know?—You're not surprised, she invites everyone, Logan was too but the first time he got family plans and didn't make it to the second.

—You should go, maybe we can do...—His lips touch yours in a peak at the middle phrase and makes you forget what you were about to say.—Man, the audacity to interrupt...—Then he kisses you again, deeply, using his tongue to taste your inner lip and his hands holding your shirt in fists. That's a twist of events.

—Is that ok?—You hear a weak whisper coming out of his voice but you got so mesmerized on his lips that decided to ignore it and kiss him back instead. He responds to your touch and starts to lean over you to make you lay on the bed.

Jesucristo bendito, is this happening? like, actually happening? you must look like trash, you barely took all the makeup from the night before and didn't take a shower, you start to get so worried about smells, feelings, and what that'll mean to your already too much-spoiled friendship.

However, the time of doubts is done when Sheep starts yelling in the living room, you both reacted running to the sound and looking for your blonde friend. Michael is there but doesn't look like the same as a few hours ago, is annoyed and tired for the lack of sleep, a look that doesn't match him at all.—What did you do?—You ask him fast assuming she's mad for something he did.

—Just in time, the star of the movie, I was wondering how much it will take you to be the protagonist of this.—That is Sheep's voice talking about you and what must be your heart breaking from her words.

—Excuse me?—You wish your tone would be less savage but you can't help respond the same way she did.

—Logan wasn't enough, then you got the drummer, fucking Timothée Chalamet, Tom and now my boyfriend. I'm so glad I didn't leave you alone with my dad or I'd be calling you mom now.—You have no words to that, Michael doesn't even dare to look at you, he must have told her something she misunderstood, but Sheep, or well, Stella is saying things she actually thinks and keep to herself. Tom walks in front of you whispering things to her to calm her down but she is not looking at him, you didn't tell her anything about Tom either so he's taking responsibility this time.—Go ahead and fuck the whole city, Michael if that please you but you're crossing the line with Tom and you know that, you're going to ruin him as you ruin every man that enters in your life.—She has a very you moment having the last word of the dispute and getting out of the apartment with Michael going after her but not putting much effort in it.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Taglist:

@eridanuswave @cjand10 @deluxeplanteater @rorodendra @navs-bhat @coxxxxxpi @leviosatothestars

Thanks for all the love and support, if you have opinions, suggestions, or want to be part of the tag list (Or don’t want to be part anymore) let me know, I appreciate every message.

🌔🔥Miami Nights🔥🌔

Prompt: Roman’s little bossy attitude towards Y/N will lead them to one of the most sensual nights they’ve had.

Word count: Long...

Pairings: Roman Reigns x Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, jealousy, a little bit of angst, “make up sex”, cursing, dirty talking (‘cuz we already know I’m a sucker for it!), praise kink and even a little bit of ass worship (because you can never go wrong with that! 😉)

Tag: @jibbles26 , @lustyromantic , @reigns-5sos , @mindofasagittaruis , @nicolewoo , @saccreigns , @ziasaph

Notes: So, the fact that I’m a lover of rough smut is no secret (I mean, have you seen the shit I write?!) but something that hits you different is a good old sensual smut! Just the intimacy and slow deep movements of it are just worth drooling.. I’ve been wanting to write a more sensual scene for a while so here you go! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊)You can check out my other stories on my Masterlist and my newest story as a fixed post. Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

My heels click clack fast upon the stairs as I make my way down to the first floor, severely searching for my phone around the living room.

“What are you looking for?” His deep voice echoed from behind me

“Jesus Christ, Roman! You startled me. I’m looking for my phone, have you seen it?”

“Do you mean this one?” He showed me my phone in his hand

“Oh, thank you baby. I-“ I stopped when instead of giving me the phone, he tossed onto his joggings side pocket.

“What are you doing? Give me my phone, please”

“Where are you going to?” He asks, ignoring my request

“My boss called saying he got a last time meeting with that big potential French buyer and asked me to help him with the translation”

He raised his eyebrows “And you’re dressed like this” He scoots closer, pulling at the hem of my black pencil skirt “Just to meet him?”

“I have to dress nicely. It’s a work meeting, so yeah, I need to dress in work clothes” I spat, not really liking where this was going

“Couldn’t you have ‘dressed nicely’ with pants?”

“What’s your point, Roman?” I ask slightly annoyed

“My point is: You’re dressed in a pencil skirt that will make any alive man stare directly at your ass, your cleavage is so deep that I can see your bra” He leans in “You’re wearing your Givenchy perfume, makeup, heels...all of that, just for a meeting with a buyer?” His voice had an incredulous tone to it

“Yes! I just told you it’s a work thing, how do you expect me show up there? With sweatpants and flip flops?!”

He’s still staring at me as he coldly said

“You’re not going out on that outfit”

“WHAT? Are you kidding me? Since when do you prohibit me from wearing something?”

“Since now!” He growled

I bitterly laughed “Sorry my dear, but I’m not one of our children! You don’t tell me what to do. You’re my husband, not my father!”

He closes the distance between us

“Do you really expect me to believe that you’re looking all hot like that for a last minute meeting? I’m not that dumb, baby girl. To me, that smells like there’s some other male trying to piss at my lawn and I don’t like that” His voice is dangerously low

“Are you suggesting that I’m romantically seeing my boss?” I ask in disbelief

“No, you wouldn’t do that. But him on the other hand, always had a soft spot for you. So yeah, I think he pulled together this whole ‘last minute meeting’ thing just so he can be alone with you. That’s why, you’re gonna go upstairs take off that makeup and that outfit and put on something less provocative”

“I’ve ALWAYS dressed like this to work! Even when I worked at the WWE and you’ve never had a problem with it before”

“I have a problem with it now” He growled

“Roman, are you listening to yourself? You better bring that attitude down! That whole ‘tribal chief’ gimmick thing is going up your head”

“You’re not leaving this house in that outfit!” He roars

“That’s nonsense! Give me my phone back, please”

“No” He calmly answered

“Give me my fucking phone, Roman” I spat

“You want your phone back? Go upstairs and change that outfit” He explained like if I was a kid

“Give me my phone!” I try to grab the phone out of his side pocket, but before I could, he grabbed my wrists forcefully. Locking them in his grip, behind my back.

“Oh, you’re in big trouble now” He devilishly laugh

I try to release my wrists from his grip but it was too tight

“Roman, let me go”

“Why should I? I mean, you were brave enough to try to take your phone away from me, so you can be brave enough to free yourself”

I try to pull on my wrists but the more I try to the harder he grips

“Roman, you’re gonna hurt me, let.me.go” I punctuated so maybe he’ll understand

“Stop fighting then!” He pushes me forward with the hand that is on my back securing my wrists, I tripped and he holds me in place by my ass, with his free hand

“This is mine” He slaps my ass forcefully, making me look up at him with pure hatred

“Don’t give me that look” He warned

“You’re gonna make me loose my job!” I start to fight against his firm grip, in despair to release myself

Roman then holds my body against his by my waist

“Behave” He chuckled

I was already pretty annoyed, to be honest, so I spat

“If you don’t let me go, I swear to God I’ll forget that you are my husband and I’m gonna kick your balls so hard, they’re gonna fly out of your mouth!”

He stares at me and let me go

“My phone, please” I reach out my hand so he can place the phone in it, which he obliged.

The front door opened and the kids ran inside like maniacs followed by Jey, who’s holding some bags from the local Candy Shop.

“This isn’t over yet” Roman whispered

“Man, I tell you, the amount of candy that shop has is out of this world!” He chuckled while chewing on something covered in chocolate. He looked at us and said

“Uh oh, I feel some tension...Did I had a bad timing?”

“No, Jey” I say “You couldn’t have a better timing not even if you tried to!” I look away from Roman to get my hand bag and the kids ran to us to show what uncle Jey had bought them.

...................................................................

I came home around 10 p.m. The reunion was a success and we had managed to close a deal with one of the French buyers we were hoping to get a contract with. He was in Vancouver for business and was able to attend the meeting through a video conference.

One part of me was excited to tell Roman about it because he knew how much that contract would help me in both career and money wise. But the other part of me was still mad at him for that little stunt he put up earlier.

I walk through the living room to place my hand bag and phone at the coffee table when the lamp by the armchair went on.

“Did you had fun?” Roman asked with a cold voice

“Sweet Lord, Roman! Do you want to kill me?”

“It must have been quite fun, I mean, for you to have came back home just now”

“You do know there’s a timezone of -3 hours from Vancouver to Florida right?”

“I didn’t asked that, I asked if you had fun”

I look at him in disbelief and say

“Look, I don’t know what’s up with the whole Samoan Don Corleone thing, but I’m really tired” I sighed

“Come here Y/N”

“What? You’re gonna ask me to kiss your ring too, Don Samoan?” I mock

He cackled at my little joke and stood up from the armchair, walking towards me.

“You and your clever little mouth, right baby? Always putting yourself in trouble with those pretty lips” His smile fade-away and he quickly pulled my head up by my hair

“I think you’re forgetting that you’re walking on thin ice right now and I wouldn’t test me if I were you”

“Where are the kids?” I ask faintly

“At Jey’s, for a sleep over” His smile is now purely evil

“Did you planned this, then?”

“C’mon baby, how are you gonna be able to scream my name while I fuck you senseless if the kids are at home?” He leans in to sniff the nape of my neck

“I love when you wear this perfume, it drives me crazy! It makes me want to fuck you all night long” He sucks on my neck “You look good enough to eat Y/N. That skirt baby...it’s gonna be the death of me! Give me a 360, baby girl” He said, intertwining our fingers and slowly turning me around while whistling at me.

“What is this all about?” I ask, suspicious about his true intentions

“What do you mean?”

“The whole complimenting me for the one thing you made a whole fuss about it earlier”

“What? Can’t I compliment my gorgeous wife?” He asked innocently

“I’m not saying that! I’m just saying that I find it suspicious the fact that earlier we almost got into an argument because of this outfit and now your throwing praises at it” I crook an eyebrow at him

He smiles “You know me so well it’s actually embarrassing!” He chuckled

“Ok baby girl, you got me! I felt guilty, ok? I regretted being so rude with you earlier, you didn’t deserve it”

“So why did you do it, Ro?”

“Because I got jealous! I mean, the time we have together is short and it’s mostly taken by the kids, we barely have any alone couple time and I miss you! I miss having my wife, having you: Y/N! Not the mom version or the professional version of you, but just my wife. All to myself” He scoots closer “So when I saw you dressed up all nice like this, smelling so good and looking so beautiful I remembered how it used to be back then...when you worked at WWE and I used to sneak out to your hotel bedroom at night so we could spend the night together because you didn’t wanted people to know about us. I remembered the amount of convincing that I had to do, for you to finally agree to make us an official thing. How we thought that our marriage wouldn’t survive with me being on the road and you at home with the kids. How many times I couldn’t sleep at night ‘cause I got scared thinking that I could lose you after that fight we’ve had when Ben was born” Roman hugs my waist and look me in the eyes “I felt the same fear earlier today, I know that’s on me and not on you but... I couldn’t help it, I got carried away by my jealousy and I apologize for that. You’re a beautiful woman! Gorgeous face, delicious body, a goddess in the bedroom, strong personality, such a kind soul and a heart made of gold. And I’m a selfish man! I don’t wanna lose you, I can’t afford to lose you...I want you all to myself, body and soul” He leans in to capture my lips in the most romantic, sensual, long kiss.

“Do you forgive me?” He whispered

“I don’t know...maybe I need some more convincing” I tease him and he laughed, knowing it was all good between us

“What can I do to convince you, baby?”

“Lose the shirt and the pants and sit on the armchair”

He happily obliged, sitting on the armchair with eyes filled with excitement

“Can you help me with this?” I point towards the skirt’s zipper innocently

He smirked and I got closer to the chair. Roman reaches the zipper, pulling it down torturously slow.

“Take it off, Ro”

He slowly pulls it down, savoring every inch of my ass being exposed to him, with each tug at the skirt he nibs and kisses the recently discovered skin. And I couldn’t be happier to be wearing a new lace set in a beautiful midnight blue shade.

The skirt became a pile of fabric around my ankles as Roman growls: squeezing, biting, licking and kissing my ass while I take off my white dress shirt.

“Fuck Y/N, baby...I’m in love with your ass”

I giggled at his choice of words

“It looks so fucking good in this blue color. Is this a new set?” He asks, still kissing and biting it.

“Yeah, I bought it last week. I thought it looked good so-“ I couldn’t even finish my sentence due to the forceful tug he gave my hips so I could sit down on his lap.

“It looks insanely good, baby” He whispered in my ear, kneading my breasts softly through the lace.

“And the bra too...they make your boobs look full as fuck! I love it”

I feel his erection resting against my ass and I can’t help but grind my hips to it.

“Hmmm baby, you’re so hot, so fucking hot. The hottest woman I’ve ever met” He pressed my hips further down to his bulge

“You never fail to turn me on baby girl, you’ve always had the power to make my cock rock hard for you”

“Just for me?” I ask with a voice raspy from pleasure, reaching my arm around his neck so I can pull his lips towards my ear

“Always just for you, baby. Ever since he tasted you, he got addicted and wants only you” Roman whispered

His voice always worked wonders on me. How deep his voice is, the things he says...it was always an infallible combination.

We explored each other’s body until we couldn’t wait it anymore.

I stand up to remove my lace panties and bra and he loses his boxer briefs, sitting back at the armchair with me on his lap. I lifted up a bit, so he can enter my core and oh, how I missed my man!

I start a front to back motion, holding onto Roman’s thighs for support while my thighs are closed shut in between his opened ones. I circled my hips in deep, slow circles from time to time so he can sink all the way in.

“Yeah, keep doing that baby girl. Fuck, it looks so sexy when you ride me like this” He moaned

And that’s my intention: a sensual, lustful, intimate sex.

Roman roamed one arm around my hips until his hand stopped at my mound

“Spread your legs a little bit, baby” He asks

I do it and two of his fingers start to rub my clit at the same pace of my riding.

“Oh, Ro...fuck me babe, that feels so good” I reach my arm back, so I can toss it around his neck, pulling him closer to me. The change of positions made his cheek rest against the side of my breast. I look down and see him staring at his hand on my clit.

“Baby” I wine, making him look up to me. And when he did I leaned down to capture his full lips in a deep kiss.

Once apart he cupped my cheek with his free hand

“I love you Y/N, so fucking much baby girl”

“I love you too Ro, the only man I’ll ever want” I smiled

“Promise me?” He asked

“Promise” I leaned down to kiss him again

I felt him twitch inside of me, a sign he was close to coming.

“Are you gonna cum inside this pussy, baby?” I smirked

“I can’t hold it back anymore, baby girl. You’re riding me so good and your pussy is milking my cock so nicely that I just can’t hold it” He laughs and kisses the side of my breast

“Cum for me baby, cum right on your pussy” I whispered in his ear

“Mine” He growled and turned up the pace of his fingers on my clit

“Yours” I moaned as I could feel my own release rising

Roman pressed our foreheads together as we reach our high in between moans. As we’re recovering our breath he says

“Damn baby, that was something!” Taking a deep breath in

“Did I just took your breath away, Reigns?” I chuckled

“Fuck yeah, that was the hottest sex we’ve had in the last 2 months”

“You’re unbelievable!” I laughed hard

“What? I’m serious! My girl is always giving me some breath taking sex” He said seriously, pulling me closer to his chest

“I’m glad you think that way because I already want a round 2” I sucked on his lower lip

“Oh baby, you’ll have the round 2, 3, 4, 5...’Cuz the kids won’t be back until tomorrow at 9 p.m.” He licks my neck

“Are you serious?” I whispered excitedly

He nods “I told you I missed my wife” He winks and take me on his arms bridal style

“Let’s go baby girl, round 2 awaits!” He laughed carrying us up to our bedroom

Where our night was just getting started

Please let me know your thoughts on this? Feedback is always appreciated 🥰😘

🌼Flowery embrace🌼

Jimmy didn't think much of the cakes.

He just wanted to stay out of trouble and have as many alliances as possible.

When he got to the alps however, the area there compelled him.

The flowers, they were poppies, he was quite fond of them. He wasn't sure why, but then again, why would anyone need an explanation about liking something as harmless and fragile as a flower?

There was another feeling that overflowed him at the sight of these lovely builds.

He decided to ignore it however, it didn't feel like a positive one and therefore it was unwanted.

Scott didn't want the cake.

He didn't want the pufferfish.

He didn't want anything to do with the man covered with the green slimy substance.

He didn't know why but he absolutely despised the male with the odd cod head.

Everything about him just set Scott off, he didn't like it one bit.

The elven man scoffed at the first attempt at befriending. The odd swamp man had baked him a cake. A cake. Something so simple wouldn't be able to win over any good empire, did this absolute idiot of a man think rifts can be resolved by a baked treat? Imbecile.

And yet, Scott couldn't bring himself to throw it away. He had tried, really tried. But his body just wouldn't let him. Something in his head was giving him a weird reaction and he hated it. He hated it because he couldn't put a finger on it.

He hated it because he kept it.

He hated the odd swamp man.

_-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-_

Jimmy didn't think much of the cake, the one he got no response for.

He just wanted to stay out of trouble and have as many alliances as possible, although for this one, he'd go the extra mile.

Second time Jimmy visited the snowy lands was when he brought the cyanette a pufferfish.

The elf man seemed to be the only one who didn't give the Cod father a reply, so he couldn't help but wonder if the wealthy emperor had somehow disliked him.

He didn't mean any harm with the cake so he thought that by going out of his way to find a pufferfish, get poisened and somehow manage to misspell it, maybe the pointy-eared creature would give him a chance.

At least a response at the minimum.

This time Jimmy noticed a different thing about the high in the sky empire.

It was cold.

So cold.

Jimmy didn't know how he didn't notice it last time, but knowing himself he was probably too distracted by something.

Something like flowers.

The slimy man was used to warmer, more humid climate, so the cold breeze here and there almost left him unable to breathe.

That didn't matter to Jimmy though, he was bringing a present, although a misspelled one, it was at least something.

After leaving the poisonous fish in an item frame, he was debating sticking around a little longer.

Thinking back, he's never actually met the elf emperor, and to be blunt, he was quite curious.

In the end he didn't have the guts to face him.

He didn't know why but his body tensed at the thought of seeing the cyanette again-

Again? He's never met him before, what is he thinking?

Silly Jim.

Scott didn't want the cake that was made with lots of love probably.

He didn't want the pufferfish that was stupidly misspelled as 'Pufferish of Peace'.

He didn't want anything to do with the blond who lived down by the dirty waters.

Scott didn't like him one bit and it wasn't because of the familiar feeling he felt towards the man without even meeting him once.

The fish that the cod head left above his doorway almost ripped a laugh out of him, something about it made fondness visible on the usually composed cyanette.

He hated it.

Who was this man and who does he think he is?

Scott's never met him before, he was sure, so why was he feeling this way?

The pointy-eared man sat down in frustration, rubbing his template with his right hand.

His right hand.. The one with the ring?

Scott didn't think about the ring much before, he thought it was just another family heirloom.

It was made out of gold, flowers embedded in it.

Looking at it this moment though... That left a different feeling.

A feeling of confusion and guilt.

He would never admit it though.

_-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-_

Five minutes ago Jimmy had tried to do some parkour in a cave, above lava.

He fell and lost all his stuff in said lava.

He was lucky he didn't have his most valuable items on him, but still he lost quite a lot.

Now he was running in the night trying to find at least some of his stuff.

As unlucky as he was, it was no surprise to him that a creeper had spawned near some of his survived stuff.

He tried to make a run for it but ultimately got blown up in the process.

As an instinct upon death, he grabbed his necklace, or more specifically, the ring attached to it.

Gold, with flowers.

He didn't know why he did it, but that was always his reaction at death or near death experiences.

When he woke up in his bed, he was more panicked than usual.

Oh no, i didn't mean it, i didn't mean to kill them too- Kill who?

The blonde was starting to have a panic attack, for no good reasons really.

His body just reacted.

I'm sorry Sco- Sorry for what? Jim c'mon what're you doing?

Why are you so upset?

What happened?

Why can't i remember???

His body ached for the embrace of his husband-

Husband? He didn't have a husband. That ring was just a treasure he found, right? Yeah, yeah that's right.

Jimmy's eyes started swelling up with tears.

He was scared.

He didn't know what was going on or why his body was reacting the way it was, he just wanted it to stop.

He wanted the embrace of flowers.

Scott had been working on a few pathways when he saw the first message pop up.

Solidarity tried to swim in lava

The elven emperor got shivers down his spine at that.

He didn't know why, and frankly he didn't want to look too into it.

It took all his willpower to not go over to the odd swamp man right now and check up on him.

Scott hated that.

Why was he so weak for the odd swamp man?

He's never met him before, so why should he care?

Though at the second message, only a few moments later, Scott didn't get to choose his reaction.

His body responded for him.

Solidarity got blown up by a Creeper

The cyanette cought his breath.

His body froze and all the used to be beautiful poppies across his land, were now bitting at his feet.

Those beautiful, beautiful flowers Jimmy lived so much-

Jimmy...

Oh god no.

No.

No no.

NO.

Please, please don't be red, i can't loose you again I-

Scott's mind was racing with thousands of thoughts and he couldn't hear a single one anymore.

His slim body started moving on its own, the elf unsure of where he was headed.

Eyes burning from the tears that want to form.

No.

He won't let himself cry.

He is a future leader after all.

He will not go down to that level.

He doesn't have the luxury of showing weaknesses.

_-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-_

Jimmy was curled up in a ball on his bed.

Hugging himself to attempt and replicate the soft embrace of color he once knew.

He was crying.

Scott was-

At a door?

In a swamp?

Wha- I-

He couldn't control his body as he force opened the door to the small cabin floating above the water.

The image in front of him broke him.

Every inch, every cell of his body was screaming.

He didn't know why but he suddenly felt very protective over the broken man in from of him.

Scott didn't understand it.

Scott could only let himself be overcome with all the emotions he's been holding in.

The guilt - for letting his husband die.

The sadness - at the first loss of his beloved.

The sheer anger - that the man in front of him had to be going through such a thing again, heck had to go through it even once.

And relief - that his used-to-be-husband-and-maybe-still-is is not red.

He's still here.

Not decaying.

_-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=__-=-__-=-__-=-__-=-_

Jimmy soon felt the embrace of flowers once more.

And a soft "I'm here" before his breath started calming down.

Punch Drunk

🐸Mando x Fem! Reader🐸

Because we need some serotonin Right NOW!! Please excuse any misspellings I rushed editied this.

Summary: Mando has had a little TOO much fun after capturing a very lucrative bounty.

Rating: soft M, just to be safe, it gets a lil saucy. 18+

Warnings: Fem! Reader, drunk Mando, mentions of saucy intentions, sweet talk, Soft! Mando, a little bit of an emotional drunken Mando, slight breeding kink maybe?

🐸🐸🐸

It had taken you hours, but you had finally gotten the Child settled into bed. He'd been an absolute terror today. Refuseing to eat his meals, he always preferred when Din fed him. He threw a fit when you tried to give him a bath, wailing and climbing up you when you tried to set him into the warm water, Din always knew how to get him in the tub with no problem. Tucking him into bed, forget it. He kept sneaking out whenever you turned your back. You knew why he was so fussy, Din had been gone for two days from the Crest. A bounty was offered to him by Greef Karga, far too lucrative to ignore, he said he'd be back as soon as possible. You knew better than to worry, but still, a twist always formed in your gut when you looked out the hatch and didn't see him makeing his way home on his speeder.

You settled down into the cot, the lights dimmed, a night of restless sleep ahead of you. Nothing but the soft breath of The Child, and the hum of the Crest to keep you company. You almost drifted off to sleep, but the hiss of the hatch opening startled you awake. Your heart jumped to your throat as you reached for the blaster you kept under the cot, ready to face the intruder despite how much you were shaking. The booted footsteps of two people echoed through the hull, men you could only assume, you were ready to scramble over to a hiding spot until you heard the distinct laugh of Karga.

Your shoulders dropped, you felt dizzy as your adrenaline fell, but the relief you felt out weighed any discomfort. You sank onto your knees on the cot, putting the blaster back under the cot.As they made their way into the hull, you suddenly remembered you had stripped down to your thin silken underdress. You wrapped your blanket around yourself to hide the sheer fabric from your guests eyes.

You let out a gasp as they rounded the corner. Greef was struggling to walk as he bared the beskar covered weight of Din. Greef had one of Dins arms braced across his shoulders while he held onto Dins waist. Din's helmet covered head lolling from side to side, his feet practically dragging, his body leaning to the side like he was about to fall over, incoherent mumbling coming through his modulater. Karga laughed and patted his back.

"You've arrived my friend." He noticed you in the bed,"oh, please excuse us, we didn't mean to wake you."

You scrambled from the cot, not careing about how sheer you shift was. You rushed to Din, your hands settling on his helmet, trying to keep his head up.

"Maker! What happened? Is he hurt?" You asked Karga frantically,"Din? Mando? Are you alright?"

"He's fine, he's fine." Karga assured, as he slowy helped Din stand on his own," we were just celebrating! The biggest bounty he's ever acquired, in the shortest time too!" He pat Dins shoulder, the sudden impact makeing Din lean into you. You let out a squeak of suprise from how heavy he was. Karga swore and apologized again as he helped Din stand up right.

"So...he's-"

"Drunk!" Karga laughed,"and he deserves it, that bounty can buy you both a new ship. Hell it could buy you a palace. He'd never have to work again if he wanted. Course we know that won't happen."

"How did he get drunk?" You asked,"He can't drink anything with his helmet on."

"Thats where you're wrong," Mando said, his voice slurred and slow, his head lolling to the side,"I can.....jus need a really....really...really long straw."

"Oh Din." You sigh.

Din suddenly gripped Kargas jacket pulling him up to him.

"L-look at her..." Din slurred through the modulator as he gazed at you," She's so...pretty." he says,"have you ever seen anyone so pretty?" Karga just laughed but was cut off when Din shook him, "Well HAVE YOU?" he snapped.

"No, can't say I have Din." Karga reassured, patting his hand,"You're a very lucky man."

You felt your face grow warm at the complement. You dipped your head and made your way to help take off Dins jetpack.

"I am lucky," he mummered," prettiest girl on the whole galaxy...on my ship...caring for my son." You heard a faint sniffle from him as you set the heavy pack on the ground.

"Its ok,Din." You say softly, placing your hand on his chest plate. He rested his leather clad hand over yours as he looked down at you."Thank you for bringing him back to me in one piece," you said to Karga,"I can take it from here."

Karag nodded and said his good bye, slapping Din on the back before leaving, the hatch shutting with a loud thud.

You looked up to Din, his gaze burning through his visor down to you as he slightly wobbled. Suddenly he lunged forward, his helmet smacked against your face, making it sting. His hands gripping your ass , kneeding it harshly.

"Ow! Din!," you cried, he rubbed his helmet against your face as you gripped his armored shoulders,"what are you doing?" You half laughed.

"Kissing you." He mumbled,"I just wanna kiss you."

You laughed,"Din-"

"Im gonn buy you all the jewels-"

"You know I dont need those-"

"Furs-"

"Din," you coo, carressing his helmet.

"A home."

"That I'd love," you sigh wrapping your arms around his neck as he rests his helmet against your shoulder,"you and me and the Child, in a cozy little home-"

"Gonna fill it with warriors," he mumbled,"a new one..... every year."

You laughed,"thats a lot of babies, Din."

"And I wanna give them to you."

"Alright, you need to sleep." You grin as you try to nudge him off you.

He takes a deep breath and stands up straight.

"I'm going to kiss you." He declared as he wobbled.

"Oh? Where?" You tease as you tried to pull him towards the cot.

"Right here, right now!" He said as if it were a threat.

"No, where do you want to kiss me, Din?"

He raised his hand and tapped his gloves finger against your forehead.

"Here..." he gently gave your cheek a tap,"Here..." he ran his thumb over your lips, "Here." He nearly growled, his chest risieng and falling as his breath got heavier.

He ran his finger over your chin, down your neck,"Here," he sighed, continuing down your chest, makeing his way between your breasts,"Here. Def...definitely here." He shuddered, "I want to kiss you here so bad." He groaned, and ran his large hand smoothly down your stomach,"here." his voice a near shudder as he reached down to your core,"but this...I want to kiss this. I'll take off all my armor, and forsake the Creed, just for the chance to kiss you here."

You took his hand from between your thighs and placed it onto your chest.

"You would?" You smile.

"What?" He snapped,"dont believe me?" He challenged.

You only smiled wider as he ripped his hand away from you.

"I'll do it!"he threatened, you crossed your arms over your chest, brow raised in a challenge. He grabbed his helmet and lifted it off, spiking it onto the soft cot."See! I did it!"

His hair was as unkempt as ever, his deep brown eyes wide and bloodshot as he looked down at you. You stepped forward, and carresed his stubble and scared covered cheeks, and kissed him. Your lips gentle against his as you softly peppered his lips and cheeks with kisses. He was frozen against you, his arms limp at his sides.

"Oh Maker, I just broke the Creed-" he whispered.

You nuzzled against his cheek, running your finger down the bridge of his sharp nose.

"Din...we made our Riduurok four months ago."you whispered. He stumbled back his eyes wide, as he swallowed hard.

"You, you mean...you're my...my..."

"Wow, Din, you are drunk. You need to get into bed." You ordered as you nudged him to the cot making him sit. His mouth hung open as you took off his armor and weapons, genlty setting them to the side.

"You married me?" He nearly wimpered, you placed a kiss to the top of his head.

"Yes Din." You said gently as you took his armor, various weapons and helmet and placed it on a nearby table.

"Really?" He sniffed, you looked back and saw him on the verge of tears.

"Oh, Din," you sigh as you stand between his spread legs, pulling his head to your stomach as you ran your hand through his unkempt hair"yes, really."

"You married me?" He asked as he buried his face into you, his voice muffled,"you're my Riddur?"

You laugh softly," yes, kar'ta."

He sniffed loudly before looking up at you, his eyes brimming with tears. "Really? Like, really really?"

You leaned down and nuzzled his face,"your the only man I'd ever marry my brave, handsome, fiercesome, warrior." You kissed him again.

He stood suddenly, and wiped away a stray tear that slid down his face before a stern look came over him. He cleared his throat.

"I need to give you warriors."

"Cyar-"

He ripped off one of his gloves and tried to undo his flight suit while moving to kneel on the bed,"right now!"

"Baby-"

"Jus- jus lay down, I'll do all the work,"He pulled you down on to the bed as you laughed at his clumsy attempt to disrobe,one arm and half his torso out of his suit.

"Gotta do my duty, fill your belly, with...with my..."he grumbled as he struggled to undo his belt,"seed, DAMN THIS THING!"

You grabbed his hands to stop him, "Din, you've already filled my belly with a warrior, remember, we made our baby after we said the vows."

He slumped down, and blinked, as he sat stunned. You took advantage of his state and nudged him till he layed flat on his back. His eyes staring up at you. He reached up and carresed you're cheek.

"I love you, Mesh'la." He said.

"I know." You sighed,"I love you too my feirce warrior."

"I hope our baby looks like you." He says as you try to roll him onto his side.

"I hope our baby is as brave as you."

"No. You're the brave one," he mumbled into his pillow,"the pretty one, the strong one, with an ass that brings me to ruin."

You had to cover your mouth to keep from busting out laughing. "Go to sleep darling."

"But I wanna look at you." His voice muffled from the pillow.

"You can look at me all you want tomorrow."

"But I wanna look at you now!" He whined.

You sighed and rolled him over to his other side until you were met with his drunk grinning face.

"You're so pretty." He slurred, his still gloved hands grabbing your hip,"c'mere." He urged you down.

You nestled down next to him, his eyes slowly shutting, his hand rubbing your side.

"Look at you," he slurred,"so sweet, so soft...so...so beautiful." His brows furrowd suddenly,"wait..I can't see you! Why can't I see you!?"

"Din open your eyes."

His eyes snapped open, a slap happy grin spreading across his face, "Oh Maker, you're so clever," His hand left your side and landed on your cheek a little harsher than he intended,"how did I find you?"

"I was a bounty remember?"

He was quiet for a moment,"oh yeah....I'm so glad you're a criminal."

"Can you go to sleep for me Din?"

"Can I use your tits as a pillow?"

Before you could respond he was already pushing you onto your back, his face buried into your chest. You sighed and were about to push him off of you but the sound of him snoring stopped you. He was asleep, you were ready to try to drift off into uncomfortable sleep when you heard a coo by your side.

Looking down you were met with the wide sleepy eyes of The Child standing by the bed, his ears perked up with a tiny smile on his face. He climbed up onto the bed and over you, nestling in the small space between you and Din, his little face nuzlleing into your belly.

You groaned, it was going to be a long night.

Thank you for reading xoxo

idk what this is but

genre: smut, slight fluff in the end

pairings: felix × reader

warnings: size kink, swearing, degradation, choking kink, airplane sex (🤡)

authors note: not good in writing i srsly dont know what i wrote here but hope y'all like it. and if there are typos or misspellings i am so sorry for that

you and your whole group of friends decided to go on a vacation, take your mind off things since one of your bestfriends just got into a breakup with their girlfriend.

at y/n's home

you sighed but chuckled afterwards knowing that you would be going to the bahamas just to relax for a day, packing up all your clothes, skin care and everything else in your bags. you went to the bathroom to look at yourself, wearing a tube top with some short ripped shorts just for the summer whether. admiring yourself in the mirror you decided to take pics of yourself flexing your outfit on instagram. but that wasn't really the reason why you posted it on Instagram. you and your friends decided to suprise each other with your outfits by posting it on Instagram and flexing it to yourselves, but the real reason why you posted so early? you wanted to get your boy bestfriend's attention, alex. you've known alex since you were a kid, you both would spend time together, watch the movies, play games, and even when you both were young you took a bath together. y/n and alex were neighbors too.

enough of looking at yourself in the mirror you decides to bring your bags and head out of your apartment and inside the taxi you called which will bring you to the airport. once you arrived getting all your stuff you went in, taking all the check outs (not sure what its called, i can't remember) before heading to terminal three where you saw your group of friends. "guys y/n is here!!!" shouted one friend and immediately she comes running up to you, pulling you into a tight hug. "i missed you too" you chuckled pulling away from the hug and walked to your friends where you all catched up, talking about each others outfits. but despite that you were focused on alex's outfit. a not fully buttoned polo, jeans, his hair fixed to the side.. he looked dreamy for you. he noticed your gaze holding back a laugh "y/n you're drooling" he said and everyone else started to tease you both "I'm not drooling!" you replied giving him a death glare "don't think too high about yourself loverboy, you aren't as handsome as you think" you added and he just rolled his eyes at what you said.

PA: passengers for flight GA 762 to Bahamas, please go to gate 26.

"oh that's us! let's go" you said and you all took your bags and started to walk to gate 26, ofcourse you all were still chatting and talking about what it'd be like in the trip. once you all arrived you gave your tickets to the lady before proceeding to board the plane. while you were waiting in line you noticed a group of boys ("boys" as in stray kids).

your mouth dropped when you say felix and his whole group of friends saw you too. they waved at you waved back but with felix you marched towards him and pointed a finger at him. "why the fuck are you here?" you asked glaring at him "excuse me" he says walking closer to you but his charms never works on you and you stood your ground. "we're going on a trip, now don't say I'm stalking you because please I never planned for us to meet" he told you and you just sighed and left him there with his ego, you went back to your bags and continued to wait.

there's quite history between y/n and felix. not ex's but y/n in their photographer and everyone knew that you and felix will always butt heads when it comes to pictures. him wanting to do it again but you saying no because it looks perfect, your fight with him would go for hours. hell, you even thought he liked you because of that. why? because everytime alex would come and fetch you he would stare at you both, clenching his jaw, digging his fingers onto his palm.

at this point you knew what to do while he was looking. you decided to talk to alex, get all touchy with him, dragging your finger down his exposed chest letting out soft giggles. felix hated that. he wished it was him. they way alex looked at your especially with your outfit made him even more jealous of the situation making you victorious.. for now.

"y/n and alex stop flirting!" they said and you laughed "i don't flirt with him." you responded holding your bags again as you got on the plane and headed to your seats. you and your friends were separated seats and some weren't, but you all were near. you got a window seat and once you arrived you saw felix on the first seat. great. he was your seatmate. you rolled your eyes letting out a sigh as you placed your bags on top, your tube top was exposing your tummy which felix was lowkey looking at, looking at all your curves making him bite his cheek from inside. once you were done you walked over him "excuse me" you said trying to work your way through since it was tight because of the reclined chairs. he stared at your ass wanting to spank it and when you looked back you saw him looking so you decided to tease him and lower your ass more. hearing him sigh you moved your butt in small circles letting out a chuckle before sitting down.

"i knew it. you like me dont you?" you asked looking at him with a smirk "what?! no. don't get ahead of yourself y/n" he replies and you chuckled "the way you looked at my ass says otherwise" you mumbled as you get cozy in your seat. seeing the seatbelt button lit up you wore the seatbelt and braised for impact as the plane started to move. you held onto the seats as the plane ascended, heavily breathing and felix just laughed at you so you kicked him with your foot. "it's okay baby, i got you" he whispers to your ear making a shiver run down your spine because he knew when he called you baby he has that impact with you, he knew calling you baby made you weak. you brushed the feeling off when the plane was steady now and finally letting out a sigh of relief when it was over.

hours later you fell asleep and felix just watched you sleep, your cute face made him soft and he just smiled but when he saw alex coming up he became serious. "hey, i just gotta talk to y/n, something important" alex says and started to shake your body waking you up but felix stopped him "let her sleep, that can wait." he said loudly scaring alex as he his voice got deeper but you woke up "stop felix, im awake. lets talk alex" you said sleepily. you got up and followed alex to the outside of the bathroom in which felix looks at your both. "y/n i know were bestfriends but.." he pauses looking at you and boom, he kisses you on the lips. his hand went to your butt and grabbed it squeezing it tightly. taking you and felix by suprise felix was mad but before he could do anything to stop you pushed alex away. "stop i like you but kissing and touching me without my consent? just to tell me you like me? no, I'm sorry alex. but just no." you said and walked back to your seat, ignoring felix you covered yourself with the blanket of the airline and started to cry. felix was mad standing up to walk to alex he punched his stomach hard and gave him a death glare before he ran to the flight attendant and ask for a first class seat and she said there was 2 available, he used his fame and they gladly gave it to him. he took your bags and gave it to the flight attendant for her to place and he shook your body. "c'mon let's got out of here" he said making you confused with snot still on your nose he took your hand and pulled you off your seat "hey!" you shouted as you both walked to the first class seats. you were amazed by it and can i just say it was full privacy, you both were on the same row so he lead you to yours, explaining it to you before he left you there and went to his.

it was like paradise you felt extremely happy about it, watching a movie asking for champagne and room service but.. something was missing. you had a fancy seat, you watched movies, champagne, everything but you felt that something was missing. you opened your door to knock on felix's door which he gladly opened it to see you. he smiled at you "hey y/n. how are you?" he asks "im fine don't worry, can i join you?" you asked and he fixed his chair for you to sit beside him. now these seats were only for one but since it was a big spot he sat on the floor in front of you and closed the door so no one would hear hour conversation with him.

the two of us decided to talk, keep up on what's happening in which boosted your mood, learning more stuff about him. we even started to lowkey flirt and get touchy over ourselves, his hand giving my thigh a gentle rub of comfort which made me red but nothing that serious.. yet.

End

OKAY THAT'S ALL BECAUSE I'M LAZY TO CONTINUE IT. PART 2 HAS THE SMUT SO JUST WAIT I GUESS. i hope y'all liked it and enjoyed reading it. I'll do a part 2 next week or next few days. and for the airplane seat just search in yt cheap first class seat y'all might find what i mean. thanks for reading <3

The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power.

A/N: I’m trying so hard to write crusty boy here really in character. At least after AfO is taken. Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen.

As always, let me know what you think!

________________________________________________

Chapter 12 / Chapter 13

Any port in a storm

Tomura knows a bastard when he sees one, and Chisaki Kai looks like someone who could stab his own mother just to prove a point.

And he’s not only a bastard, but he’s also very full of it. The way Chisaki talks like he knows better than anyone else, questioning Tomura and calling him out on his previous failures, as if he knew anything about dealing with pro heroes and a bunch of overpowered children ruining your plans.

Tomura knows where he’d failed and he learned from it, but that doesn’t mean he’ll have to waste his time hearing this asshole lecture him about leadership and planning. After all, Chisaki Kai is nothing but a low thug that works for money or whatever the fuck someone like him cares for. The league, on the other hand, has bigger matters to attend.

He sure like the sound of his own voice. Tomura thinks, narrowing his eyes when Overhaul begins to babble about leadership and pawns like they are nothing else than mere meat at his disposition, and not people with interests and wants.

It doesn’t take long before shit goes down. Magne’s remains puring over them like rain because the bastard makes her explode like a piñata with just a single touch.

Yes, Tomura also knows a deadly touch when he sees one, and Overhaul’s looks ridiculously overpowered.

“Compress, wait-!” Tomura shouts, but Chisaki is faster and before they understand what’s happening, Compress quirk goes off and Overhaul blows Atsuhiro’s arm with a simple touch and the fucker is so damn coward that the moment Tomura lounges towards him, he just orders one of his pitiful pawns to act as a fucking shield and die in his place.

The yakuza has the nerve to call himself the next leader and Tomura is almost impressed by the audacity.

“Now I get it. You should have just started with this, saved us all some time.” Tomura spits making a monumental effort to keep his cool for his sake and the sake of the league.

“Where are they come from?! We weren’t followed, I swear!”

“One of them probably has a tracking quirk.” He’s also trying his utter best to not smack Twice’s masked head for being so damn naïve.

“We’ll cool our heads and try again later. I ow your side an arm.”

“Bastard! I’ll eviscerate you!” Twice barks at his side, holding Compress against his chest.

“Tomura-kun. Let me cut him. Real quick.” Toga ask, pulling out her knife.

“No.”

“it’s my responsibility!” screams Twice.

“No.”

“I don’t wanna rush you, but the sooner we talk the better.” Think things over carefully. Consider how your organization should be run, then when you’ve calm down, call me.” Overhaul speaks like he didn’t just killed Magne, comparing her with one of his ridiculous pawns and Tomura hates him, truly. It’s not like when he says he hates society and heroes, no. This is more personal. He hates Chisaki Kai the same way you hate your childhood bully, the same way you hate someone because you had the misfortune of knowing them.

“They’re gonna pay for this. Why can’t I go after them?!”

“Now thinking, we need to get Atsuhiro-san to a doc. “

“Right.”

“That wouldn’t work…damn that hurts” Atsuhiro whispers almost unconscious.

“Maybe we do have time to make them bleed.”

“No.”

“C’mon, Tomura-kun!”

“Another time.” He orders, watching as overhaul and his band of assholes disappear into the night “You’ll pay for what you’ve done today.” He swears already thinking in a million ways he could make him regret this.

“Shigaraki! We need to see the doctor! Atsuhiro is bleeding out!”

Ah, doctor Ujiko really found and excellent time to go missing, didn’t he? Now without his sensei and the hideout completely wrecked by the heroes, he’s between kidnapping some doctor or finding some abandoned hospital and pray there is some supplies that could work. But kidnapping someone would take time and efforts and the nearest abandoned hospital is forty minutes away and Compress doesn’t have so much time.

Ah, the perks of being a villain.

“Tomura-kun! What do we do!?”

He clenches his fists until his knuckles go numb, his mind rushing, thinking what to do besides the obvious, trying his best to ignore that option.  

“We need to take him now!”

Tomura rolls his eyes and suck his teeth hating his life because this is the last thing he thought he would be doing when he woke up that morning, something withing him twisting painfully between excited and done with this awful feeling he can’t rid off.

“Tomura-Kun! What do we do?!” Toga presses again, panicking because Compress is getting paler and paler.

He groans kicking some rock completely fed up. Why couldn’t Atsuhiro just stay sit there when he told him to wait? Now the itch gets insufferable out of nowhere and Tomura scratch his neck raw, snarling under the hand that covers his face. He doesn’t want to go there, but Twice needs help to carry Atsuhiro now that the man just fainted, and he can’t do copies of himself, so he’ll need someone else. It could be Toga, but Tomura hardly thinks she’s going to be helpful with that tiny body of hers. Besides, they’ll need someone who can clear out the streets before rushing out, so, he’ll have to go anyways.

Tomura sighs defeated, this isn’t about him, so he decides to ignore the knot in his stomach and the quick drumming of his heart against his ribs, preparing for the imminent headache before barking the orders.

“Follow me.”

______________

 A loud bang on your door wakes you suddenly.

You observe your room, remembering that you were studying before falling asleep over your desk after a whole day of paper reading and a pack of oreo’s for dinner. Your laptop screen flashes 00:23 am, so you’ve been sleeping for hardly an hour.

Another bang and this time the sound of someone trying to enter your apartment at midnight shoots your adrenaline levels to the top.

“Big sister! Please!” Toga’s voice sounds desperate from the other side of the door turning your fear in worry, so without thinking, your feet tap quickly through the flat to just opening it before some neighbor sees her, but your mouth falls open the moment Toga rushes into your apartment with Twice and Shigaraki behind her, carrying a half-conscious Compress.

In a second that feels like hours, your eyes travel quickly between all three men, to stop on the red ones that bore into you, sending shivers through your spine as you heart do a flip inside your cage because your infatuation with the villain is right there, in the same place he left it last time he touched you.

“What the…” Your voice gets stuck in your throat when you notice that Compress bloodied wound is in fact him missing an arm.

“Shit. Lay him down on the table” You order already running across your flat looking for a hairband. “Take his shirt off, Toga, bring me some towels.” You rush to your bathroom to wash your hands quickly, and Shigaraki follows you without a word, clutching at your side looking for the first aid kit your keep under the sink.

“Tell me what happened.”

“A Yakuza bastard blew his arm of with his quirk.” He spits carrying the kit to the kitchen. “He shoot him something and his quirk went off.”

“You think it’s some kind of drug?”

“Probably.”

“Crap. It could be dangerous if I don’t know the effects.”  

You run behind him, taking some latex gloves from the kit before approaching your patient. Atsuhiro breathes heavily over your kitchen table, his legs dangling from the edge as he bleeds all over the floor.

Your quirk activates in full force the moment you get close to him.

“Hello, Mr. Compress.” You talk to him trying to calm him the same way you would talk to a child patient as you remove the poor bandage that wraps the remains of his left arm. “Long time no see.”

“Lovely to see you, dear.” He whines with his hand holding the gory pieces of meat that still dangles from his shoulder, a chonk of his broken bone horribly exposed. “It hurts a lot, you know?”

You wince at the sight but straighten yourself to do your job and let your hands hover over his wound, numbing his nerves, keeping his blood from spilling out because he’s already at the brim of drying out.

“I know, but it’s okay now, Compress. I’ll take care from here. Now…sleep…” you lull him with a smile, relaxing him quietly, slowing his heart rate to make him pass out.

“Is he..?” Twice ask watching with trembling voice.

“he’s unconscious now. I can stop the bleeding with my quirk for now, but I’ll need to…sew this…. somehow.”

“Oh! Big sister! Your quirk is amazing to cure people!” Toga says joyfully, leaving the towels close to you.

“Himiko-chan. I need you to wash your hands very carefully. I’ll need some assistance.”

“Okay! I’ll be back.”

You begin to clean the wound, retiring the little fragmenst of bone from between the exposed muscle with some tweezers.

“How bad.” Shigaraki is behind you, towering over your shoulder and you can feel his warmth on your cheek, as he winces watching the mess over the table.

“His arm is destroyed. I need to cut a little of bone, it’s too jagged to just close this, it could lead to an infection. Only after that I’ll be able to rearrange this mess.”  

“What do you need.”

You look at him worried. He’s covered in blood and for a moment you panic thinking that maybe he’s injured too.

“A-Are you al right?”

The question comes out as desperate product of your impossible nerves from having him so nearby. It caught him by surprise from the way his jaw clenches before answering.

“…I’m fine. What else do you need.”

Relief washes over you, so you return your eyes to the man over your kitchen table.

“I…my dad had a garden saw in the closet. Disinfect it the best you can. This is going to be nasty.”

___________

 When she’s finally done, it’s already 3 am.

Compress lays over the couch, finally sleeping after some gruesome scalpel work that lefts her panting from her quirk overuse, siting in the floor with her back against the front door.  

A thick trace of blood drifts down her nose, but she’s too tired to even care, so she just let her head rest on the cold wood.

Silence and shadows fill the apartment. The lights are off so Atsuhiro can sleep, but the lights of the street are enough to see inside the flat. In her room, twice and toga share the bed, already sleeping after helping with the cleaning. Her kitchen looks spotless under the moonlight, none could guess she just operated someone over the table with a gardening saw.

“Are you sure you are okay?” She asks with hooded eyes, her own conscience drifting slowly.

“…I told you I’m fine.”

Tomura watches her, leaning against the wall in front of her. She’s grown thinner and paler than the last time he stood in her home. Her bloodied clothing only accentuating her lack of color and the dark bags that rest under her sleepy eyes.

She stares back, neither of them wanting to look away, not when the three steps gap between them extends so wide and deep that it hurts. The notion of being face to face again stirs quietly inside of him and all his anger and dread goes silent now she’s there at the reach of his hand, and Tomura understand that he doesn’t know how to feel now.

Her stomach growls of hunger and her eyes open in embarrassment and surprise.

“Stop staring at me.” She mumbles cleaning her face with the back of her sleeve, getting up to walk over her kitchen.

“You were staring first.” He mumbles annoyed “whatever…” Before he can even walk to the door, she stops him dead on his tracks.

“You can stay…if you want.”

Tomura looks at her while she prepares a sandwich, trying to avoid his gaze at all costs to no avail. Her hand trembles as she tries to put some butter on her bread, giving away her internal turmoil, because as him, she doesn’t know how to feel about this sudden intrusion in her life. Again.

Well, at least he’s not he only one who feels awkward.

She laughs halfheartedly out of the blue.

“What’s so funny?” he asks looking at the wall, his voice mellow because he doesn’t have the energy to quarrel with her now. Not after everything that happen.

“It’s just…I swore I was going to choke you with my own hands next time I saw you.” She cannot stop the laughing.

He doesn’t know what to do with that statement, finding difficult to keep his distant mask now she’s trying to sound playful. He can feel his anger and awkwardness dissolving into something more bearable so he just smirks amused.

“Bare hands, huh? no quirk involved?”

“Yep. Acapella”

“And how is that working for you?” he asks, gravitating closer to her, standing at her side, very aware of the height difference between them as he leans to see her face better.

“Oh, fuck off.” She smiles.

“Ladies first.” He cannot contain the little smile that blossom in his face.  

Tomura feels his shoulders relaxing softly now. He falls in the ease of her company, the roaring turmoil he’s been feeding all these past weeks, going silent now that she’s finally close, smiling tired and lightheartedly.

It was this, and he almost forgot about it. It was the soft wittiness, the clever jokes and back and forth. He liked to talk to her because it was like playing a game, but somehow, he forgot between his bitterness and rage.

“Sandwich?” She asks, handling him half oh her own.

“…Thanks.”

They eat in silence. Atsuhiro’s breathing is the only sound in the house.

Tomura is tired, his eyelids weight heavy over his eyes, but this moment is enough to keep him awake, so in exchange he memorizes the smell of her home, her presence filling him softly and gently, calming the rage and the fury he’s been feeling over a month in a rare peaceful moment that feels dangerously too much like finally coming home.

What a stupid thought to think he could get rid of this sweet softness, the only one he’s ever felt. A foolish desire made of spite and bitterness in a place that can only be filled with their silent bond.

He feels the gap closing slowly, luring him to stay for the night. He should…he could...maybe this…

“I’ve missed you.” She whispers suddenly without looking at him, her eyes fixed in the wall in front of them.

Time stops and he whips his head so fast he could hear something crackling in his neck.

He definitely didn’t though about this when he woke up that morning.

“Like wise.” He raps swallowing hard, thinking about all the things his done in a month, realizing there was not a single minute of the day in which he did not think of her.

He’s truly smitten, isn’t he?  

“I’m sorry about what I said…i…I got nervous. I thought you would get mad, I just made it worse.”

“Why would you think that, huh? I thought I was pretty obvious.” He says, hiding his hands in his coat before changing his weight to the other leg.  

“Because you are a big bad villain, aren’t you? and I’m just…me.”

“Just you” he snorts “you managed to terrorize one of the most dangerous villains without even touching him. Just you is fine enough to deal with anyone. Even big bad villains.”

She smiles shyly.

“Shigar-“

“Tomura.” He interrupts, finally looking at her.

She looks beautiful under the pale light; the shadows of the night drawing angles and shapes on her face.

“Tomura.” She states, meeting his gaze and he delights in the way his name falls from her lips like a spell and less like a curse. She looks at him decided, certainty written all over her face and he knows she’s about to do something reckless. “I really like you.”

Tomura has learned his lesson. As he always does, so he absorbs her words and weighs them carefully inside his chest.

“A horrible decision, really.” He mocks back with a grin, closing the gap between them until he has her trapped between him and the kitchen counter. “Your parents never told you about big bad villains?” this time he asks close enough for her smell to fill his personal space as he gives her a hungry look, licking his lips.

“Oh, Fuck you.” She sighs laughing quietly.

“I hope you do.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Are you going to keep talking back or are you going to kiss me already?” She whispers feeling his warm breath against her lips.

He stops entranced with the way her eyes reflect the streetlights from the outside. He’ll think of her like this frozen in time and undercover darkness, just a silver string of light between the shadows of her home and his life.

Tomura kisses her hungry and desperate. His jagged lips bruising against her mouth, invading her, eager to feel her closer, but is not enough. Him yanking her against his chest, four fingers gripping tight over her wrist as his right arm encircle her waist is not enough. Feeling her hands clutching at his shirt pulling him is not enough. Sensing the motion of her rising cage as she began to suffocate is not enough.  

No, nothing is enough when he wants to split her chest open to hide inside her ribs, filling her with this feeling that’s been smothering him for too long.

He’s overwhelmed by this unforgiving desire that goes beyond anything physical. Is about the terrifying nature of the world that surrounds him, where she’s the only hideout that could contain his horror and everything that scares him about himself.

Like sensing his despair, she moves her hands to his face, caressing his jaw enamored with the shape of his face, the texture of his skin and the soft locks of white hair that brush over her fingers every time he tilts his head to kiss her deeper and deeper.

A low rumble fills his chest as she opens her mouth fully to him, giving him access to her warmth for him to gorge on her taste, terrifyingly close and needy.

She breaks contact searching for air, but he moves ever so little.

“The things I’ll do with that bickering mouth of yours” He whispers before biting her low lip, giving her a ravenous look.

“Like wise.”

He considers to just shove her against the wall and take her right there over the dishwasher, finally sinking his teeth on her skin, buried deeply in her; but since she was bleeding not long ago, tired and in desperate need of sleep, he keeps it gentle. They are both tired. Tired from the fight, tired from the operation, tired of this game of cat and mouse they’ve been playing for two months, so he shoves his animal instincts under the rug and treats the situation the same way he holds things carefully with his fingers.

Just this one time he promises, knowing he will go absolutely feral on her as soon as he has the chance. So, he just leans over and kisses her gently…surprised by his own tenderness and the warmth that fills him, something akin to happiness and peace.

Tomura nuzzles against her cheek before resting his face on her shoulder, the awful longing that’s been eating him alive finally shut down.

“Come.” She calls him softly, a ghost of a kiss burning over his lips before she tugs him by the hem of his coat, leading him to the spare room.

He follows her quietly, taking off his sneakers and coat before getting inside the little bed, wrapping his arms tightly around her, fists safely closed at her back.

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” She asks merely a whisper, her lips delicately brushing his own.

His forehead rest against hers, her warmth inviting him to close his eyes and rest, lulling him silently into sleep.

“…yes.” He whispers as he drifts away, feeling the light touch of her lips kissing the scar over his mouth.

“Good.”

Chapter 14

(THIS WAS A SHIT STORY I MADE AND POSTED ON WATTPAD, YES I KNOW ITS TERRIBLE IM SORRY IN ADVANCE FOR THOSE WHO ARE READING THIS)

(a/n there are misspellings and shit but I don't care)

Peter, bucky, and Steve were best of friends since kids, they were the best of friends anyone had ever seen. And although the two would never admit it, Bucky and Peter thought of each other as more than friends, they had feelings for each other but they were both scared of what the other would think. After all, that type of love wasn't allowed. Everyone said that being gay was a sin, but they didn't think so, the two just wanted to love each other. And it went on like this for years, both males hiding their feeling for the other. The best part was that most people could tell they were in love, Sadly the two never got to tell each other how they felt before the 'Accident, Peter and the rest of his family died, he had only recently turned 19 went it happened. Bucky was devastated, not only did he lose his best friend, but he also lost his love. But something told him that wasn't the end, he didn't know why- but he believed it.

***

It's currently 4:57 am, the team was called down for an emergency intruder alert.

They expected some kind of big threat but instead, it was a 'teenaged' boy, maybe 17 in black and red spandex, but that wasn't even the strangest part. they realized the suit that was hugging his body had the hydra symbol printed across his back and chest, and all hell broke loose. Four of them were yelling and getting into their battle stance, while Natasha stood trying to get answers from The super-soldier who went by Captain America. And in all honesty, the guy was scared, of course, he could easily take on all of these people, but doing that would only let his monsters win.

He came here for help but instead, everyone was freaking out. It was starting to aggravate him, the only person here that he knew was The star-spangled man, and Steve hadn't said a word to the boy. No one had, it's just been yelling. The only one to really observe the boy had been a redhead suited in black.

"Guys-"

They kept going and ignored the woman. So the red-headed woman yelled and stomped her foot.

"Would you please shut the hell up!?" She growled.

"if you guys would stop and pay attention, you'd notice that the kid hasn't even engaged in combat yet." She shook her head, visibly disappointed in the others. "You haven't even given him a chance to talk, and he looks Young, probably terrified."

The woman gave him a small glance before glaring back at the others.

The four put that heads down and nodded, the man with the arrows looked like he wanted to say something but one glance from the angry hero shut him up.

The room got quiet. They were unsure what to say, they didn't want to trigger the boy (or the black widow)

Finally, Steve put his hand out and waited for the boy to take it.

"Sorry for the commotion, Steve Rogers. And you are?"

The boy shook the man's hand as quickly as possible. He made sure not to look the man in the eyes so he wouldn't get punished. As soon as he shook it he walked further from the man.

"паук."

They looked at the boy in confusion, what kind of name was that-

Natasha moved closer to the boy, she tried to put a hand on his shoulder but he quickly shut down.

He dropped to the ground and gave a knee.

"извините, мэм, накажите меня, как хотите." He spoke frantically.

She looked at him, why on earth would he- never mind, he's been in hydra's hands for God knows how long.

"Нет, вставай, паук." Natasha made sure to speak slowly. She could see the potential this guy had, fighting him is not something they can do without having to call damage control after. He was strong, she could tell.

паук scurried to his feet and apologized. The rest of the team stood behind Black Widow as if they were hiding from a wild animal, and Natasha was controlling the beast. Bruce wasn't scared as much as the others, normally he would be but the big guy wasn't out. Maybe the Hulk doesn't see the intruder as a threat. If big green was okay with him shouldn't they?

The only thing visible on паук's face was his Bambi eyes that we're glued to Steve. паук slowly walked over to the Captain, he took his mask that covered his lower face and ripped it off. Steve paled and he felt tears prick his eyes. It was impossible, but that's what he thought about bucky yet his best friend was still sleeping four floors below them. But everyone saw it, the house exploded, the were no survivors, hell they found AND confirmed his body. But the man who stood in front of him was none other than Peter Parker.

"P-peter?"

'Peter' looked more scared than Captain America, he had never heard the name Peter, yet when the words left caps mouth he felt something inside him click. He remembers this man. This man is Steve Rogers! Peter smiled, "Я тебя знаю!Я действительно!" Steve gave him a sad smile, no one knew what he was saying except for Natasha, but Peter didn't know that. He thought they were scared.

Natasha walked up to him yet again and did as she did before. This time she smiled, which is something she doesn't do often. When Natasha put her hand on his shoulder he didn't kneel he just looked at her with hope in his eyes, he wanted help. Natasha gestured to the others and then looked at Peter, "Ты знаешь английского паука?" He nodded.

"H-hello."

They waited for him to continue.

"I'm The "Dancing Spider", but the guards just call me Spider as you can tell I escaped hydra. I think something went wrong- first they were wiping my mind, next I had memories coming back and, " he motioned to Steve, "he was in them. I waited until I was given my next mission to run, that's the only time I'm allowed outside for... Reasons. But there were others from my what I seen. A family, and...and ag this guy- but... I only remember his eyes- and hair- but he um... He called me Doll!

He stopped and looked down, it was like he was too ashamed to continue. And maybe it was because he was. in the flashback, there were three people, him, Steve, and someone else. The other person had dark brown hair and steel blue eyes. He's was taller than both peter and Steve, but Steve was much, much smaller.

The 'teen' had stopped talking for a while so Steve started asking questions, "Pete- sorry, Spider? Do you remember how old you are?" Peter lifted his head up and slowly nodded. "Twenty-three." That's all he said, his mind was still on the mystery guy. Why? Why was he so damn important to him? It made him mad, how can he be so valuable to peter yet he has no idea who he is!? But then again, there's a lot of people peter can remember. But Steve was taken back- four years, peters had four years of his life stolen from him. But for those who knew him, it was much longer.

"Do you remember May and Ben?" Steve quietly questioned.

Then some things flooded peters head that was probably best forgotten, his aunt and uncle, their dog, then the explosion. The one that he started. But he didn't want to, of course, it was his first mission, hydra made sure to replay the horrid memory. Over and over.

"So... He's not a kid?" The gold and red armor asked.

Peter looked shocked, and who can blame him? The iron suit was talking, hydra might have had good tech but this was... Freaky. Peter put his hands up in fists ready to fight, everyone else got on guard ready to do the same."W-what the hell is that?" He stuttered.

The heroes calmed down after they have seen he was just startled. The glowing eyes that belonged to the iron suit stopped glowing and a man stepped out.

"Howard?" Peter questioned, then his eyes widened, he had unlocked a new memory.

While Peter was trying to piece together all of the things he could remember tony stood stiff, he hadn't heard that name in a while, and this guy knew his dad? God everything is confusing. He shook the thoughts away and looked at peter who had a puzzled look on.

"I'm actually his- his son."

Peter smiled a bit thinking about how much the two looked alike. "You just look so much like him! Did he build your..." He pointed to the Iron man suit, "that?" Tony shook his head and looked down, "No, um... Howa- my father- and Hydra- he's ah, he's dead..."

Peters face dropped and he felt another wave of guilt hit him."oh my God- did? Did I do it!?" He was on the verge of tears, why? Why was he a monster?

Tony walked over to peter and put a hand on his shoulder, peter backed away. "No! Please, I didn't want to I swear!" Tony looked at Steve for help, Steve had a look on his face that said he was thinking, his eyes widened. He walked out of the room and tony went back to peter.

"Hey, Hey kid look. You- you didn't do it okay?."

"..." Peter looked up.

"It's fine, you're okay," Tony explained. It wasn't the truth but what was he supposed to say 'oh don't sweat it! It was another hydra soldier!'

Peter took a step out of Tony's grasp and fell to his knees, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come here. I'm just putting you all in danger!" He pulled his knees to his chest, why won't they just kill him already? That's what they do right? You break into a building and they don't attack you? That makes sense.

Nobody touched him, he just sat on the ground surrounded by people he doesn't know. It was quiet yet peter could still hear their heartbeats. The man with the glasses was calm, the redhead was calm as well, along with the man with the bow. The other two had strange heartbeats. The one with their glowing chest had a faint heartbeat but also a slight humming, the blonde with the hammer had a calm heartbeat but the rhythm wasn't a pattern, and it was loud.

Tony had walked away from the young adult because he had obviously made him uncountable again, this is why he leaves the comforting people thing to Bruce and Steve. None of them knew why Steve walks away, but they all wanted him to come back.

Peter felt the eyes on him so he wanted to make himself more comfortable before snapped at all the people who had nothing better to do than to stare at him, like seriously! He came here for help; they stare! The one person he knew ran off, and if Peter was him he'd run too! He sighed and stuck his arm in the air. The others looked at him with pure confusion, Peter rolled his eyes and shot a web up to the ceiling, his lip twitched as if he was smile, why? Well, the other watched in horror as he pulled himself up and positioned himself.

It had been a few minutes and Steve was still gone, Peter was still on his web trying to keep calm, and the other five were still staring at Peter. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't bothering him. "If you want to say something please say it, you're getting on my nerves with the pointless staring." He closed his eyes and allowed himself steady again.

"Do you really know Steve?" Asked Tony.

Peter flinched but kept his cool, "y-yes? Well I think, I remember him from some point in my life. We were friends I know that at the least but I also know there was someone else..."

Natasha was the second one to speak to him. He didn't mind though, Peter took a liking to her.

"Can you describe the other person?"

The spider let himself turn towards her. He let out a sigh. "I can but... Something tells me I won't see him again, by the looks of things I'm not in the '40s anymore, he's probably long gone, a family perhaps remember to him perhaps." He gave her a faint smile trying to hide the fact that he was disappointed in himself. Nat gave him a look that told him to go on.

"Well, he had dark brown hair and hair, and the most amazing blue eyes you've ever seen, I was close to him I know it but I just can't remember h-his name."

Peter let a single tear roll down his face, he smiled again then left his hands-free, so now he just relaxed as his body moved upside down.

He pointed to Bruce, "your doctor banner right?" Bruce sighed. "Yes, unfortunately, you probably have files on the other guy huh?" Said Bruce. Peter looked confused.

"Actually sir, the only person I know is Steven, however, I've read your books. Me being one of their best creations means I got 'special' treatment, so I was about a year ago I was given some books."

Bruce only nodded as a response. Everyone stood quietly as they watched Peter move gracefully, he switched back the position he was into before. This time he looked at the man with the arrows. "You want to know why I'm doing up here, right?" "How did you- never mind." Peter let out a breath and closed his eyes, "this is sort how I got my name, The Dancing Spider, that and when I fight 'it looks like a dance'. But I also do this as a way to calm down, and you people obviously don't know that staring makes people uncomfortable- not to mention it's rude" the five quickly tried to find something else to look at, "it's fine just a bit irritating, be staring too, I mean some dancing assassin shows up randomly, " he let himself fall. He walked towards the window and looked for the latch that would open it. "I've caused enough trouble, if I umm, if I leave now they won't go after me. Guards don't check cells until-" The elevator doors dinged as they shut again and two men walked up to the group.

"7:30, they don't make rounds on the A floors until 7:30." The other man said. Peter spun around to see Steve inspecting the web that hung from the floor, beside him was a man with dark brown hair that was just above his shoulders. Peter's dark brown eyes locked with the steel Blue ones. It was him- the man he had seen! The one who was so important to him! It was James.

The memories flooded back, from when they were kids, their days in high school, how he Peter had the biggest crush, god, peter liked him- no, he loved him.

Peter let the tears fall, he didn't care if he got punished for crying he had finally found his love! He smiled wide and started walking to the man.

"J-James?"

Buck nodded and walked towards Peter as well, they met halfway in the center of the room, bucky didn't care if the others saw that he was crying, he had been dreaming of the day that he'd see Peter again, of course, this isn't how he would have wanted it to go but it didn't matter. "Hey, Pete-" he didn't get a chance to finish his sentence before the smaller male jumped on him, arms wrapped tight around his neck. Bucky didn't want to let go. He finally got his best friend back, he had his love back.

They didn't care if the other we're watching, they'd rather them starting than be apart again. "I'm sorry- I am so so sorry James." Peter cried into the taller man's neck. The soldier pulled away so he could see his face, Peter looked up at him with tears rushing down his face. "For what, You did nothing wrong?"

"I never got to tell you that I loved you." Bucky's face softened, 'Peter always was the first to apologize for nothing' he thought. He pulled Peter in for another hug, his chin laid on the smaller's head. "Then do it now." Said bucky. Then he loosened his grip on peter. The spider looked up at him, visible shock displayed itself on his face.

"W-what?"

"I said do it."

Peter was shocked, as much as he hated it he thought this type of thing wrong, everyone said it wasn't right, no matter how much he wanted it to be right they told him it was bad. But Peter didn't care he wasn't gonna let them stop his feelings. He cupped buck's face with his hands, slowly pulling the other in, Peter kissed him. And of course, Bucky kissed him back, it was the most gentle thing either of them had felt in years.

The rest of the room (minus Steve) had no idea why they two were crying, or why Steve had brought Barnes he anyway. But they started to understand once they watched the two broken males interacted with each other, then they understood. Yes, they were broken- but they knew they were broken together.

The couple broke apart with a smile on their faces. Peter looked at Bucky, tears still streaming from his doe eyes, he smiled as he looked his love in the. eyes.

"James Buchanan Barnes, I love you. And I don't care what anyone else says- or thinks."

Bucky smiled down at Peter.

"Peter Benjamin Parker, I love you, and I have dreamed every night that I would see you again."

The pair smiled knowing that they finally were together again. But Peter let the worries set in as he thought about what hydra would do if they found him? He doesn't want to lose James again, what if they take James? Bucky felt his lover tense up so he hugged him tighter. "James?" "Yeah, Petey?" Peter let out a deep breath, "what if hydra comes back? I don't wanna loses you again, I don't think I could go through that again." Bucky kissed the top of peters head, knowing what it's like to fear hydra. "They haven't found me yet." "What?!" Peter asked. Bucky smiled sadly. He had been on the same floor as the dancing spider- yet he never would have thought he could be his love. "You know the other to soldiers on the A floor?" Peter shook his head at buck's question. "It used to be me, and somebody else... But they're dead, have been fo- how did you know what floor I was on?" He quickly asked, pulling away to look at the blue eyes that stared down at him. Bucky took off his glove and rolled up his sleeve. Peter's eyes widened at the sight of a shining metal arm, he brought his hand up to touch the cold metal.

"You're the Winter Soldier?"

Bucky nodded, his head nodded towards the web behind them.

"And... you're the Dancing spider?"

"Y-yea, sadly."

Bucky looked at him again, the look on Peter's face had no fear, he would have thought that the young man would regret saying 'I love you' but instead Peter and bucky had the same excepting look on their faces. Peter took a shaky breath and shut his eyes, "how?" Bucky looked at him, puzzled. The spider opened his eyes. Tears flowed from his eyes as they have been throughout the morning. "How did you do it? Hell, you're still doing it now! how can you stand here and stay strong knowing that if they find me they might find you too? How did withstand all of the fear and hide from them?"

Bucky pulled him closer, a sad but gentle smile on his face. He kissed peter softly on the lips before he looked his love in the eyes, "because I knew, somewhere my love was alone, and I wasn't going to give up until we were together, " he placed his flesh hand on peters face and wiped away from the tears with his thumb.

"I love you."

(EW- IM SO SORRY)

Almost is the saddest word by YuMe89

Excerpt:

As he looked at the screen to see how much was left, his heart began to pound wildly again. "I only got twenty-six percent left.", he voiced out loud.

"Next time we talk, we'll do it in person.", Derek answered, voice tight, but so sure. Then the line went dead, he had disconnected the call. It was eerily silent all of a sudden and Stiles needed to do something before he let the screen go black again.

'Hey dad!

If this is the last message you get from me, just know that you're the most awesomest dad ever and I love you. I'm sorry I haven't been the best son in years', as he typed it out he stared at the text and deleted it again.

'Just wanted to let you know, that I love you, dad. Hope your Conference is as awesome as you.', Stiles hit send and then closed the app, turned his screen off and put his phone in his jeans pocket.

As he covered his face with his hands, he tried to desperately remember what had happenend between visiting Melissa, going to the bookshop and ending up here.

-

After hunting down some misspelled words and errors (and I'm still not convinced I got all of them) I thought I'd draw something for my older fic. I did literally nothing else today, please shoot me.

The quality kind of gets lost as soon as I download it on my phone to upload it here and I hope I could cancel that out with those close up screenshots. It came out pretty neat, if you ignore the fucked up hand xD

The phone was tricky to do and the perspective looks wrong, but I really am too stupid to work gimp 😅 so, sorry you have to see this if its offending you somehow.

For the @rdr-secret-santa exchange this year, I got to write for @tiredcowpoke.  The request I wrote was “Molly/Mary-Beth, possibly a post-game au thing related to their writing?” Happy Holidays, Cowpoke, and I hope you enjoy! 

~~~~~~~~~

December 1919

St. Denis, Lemoyne

It had been a solemn few years for a poetess, for the world looked upon things with a grim eye, and who could blame them?  Between the war and the Spanish flu, that was bad enough.  Even a bloody flood of molasses of all things taking lives in a strange and even absurd way.  She needed a change from Boston, feeling that urge come over her.

Just as she’d needed a change so long ago and left Dublin for Cousin Brian’s horse farm in California.  Back in another life, back when she’d then left Cousin Brian’s horse farm after a few months based on the dark good looks and smooth charms of Mister Aiden O’Malley, or so he’d called himself.  Back when she’d been such a fool and become an outlaw’s woman--outlaw’s whore--, something within her liked to hiss still.  That part was the one that had been raised to love and fear her father, God the Father, and Father O’Connell alike, a paternal trinity that seemed to have no room for any woman once she wasn’t a virgin.

Some parts of Molly O’Shea clung beneath the skin of Margaret McCarthy nonetheless, and she’d long since had to accept that.  Though she listened to them less and less as the years rolled on in their relentless pace.  Early on had been difficult.  She couldn’t go back to Cousin Brian, couldn’t go back to her father by any means, couldn’t bear to face their condemnation of her shame.  So she had gone to Boston, after leaving Dutch and his band of grubby fools behind, a place she had never belonged with a man who used and discarded women.  For a woman raised to be an ornament to a man, a true lady, it had been a struggle.  But she found eventually that her pen was enough to keep her, rather than the need of a man for it.  Forged on into a strange new world where she alone was mistress of her fate, and found it to her liking.

Now here she was in St. Denis for the first time in twenty years, and certainly she was older and wiser and a trifle stouter than the lass of twenty-six who’d never genuinely seen these streets, drinking as much as she had for the heartbreak of it all.  It pleased her in some ways to truly experience the city for the first time, finding the old, cultured, European feel of it much to her liking, as opposed to the brashness of Boston that had never quite fit her, no matter how many Irish lived there.  

No sooner had she arrived, not even fully unpacking her trunks at the opulent Castille House hotel, built seven years before, than an invitation came from the Krewe of Minerva, whom she was given to understand, had something to do with the Carnival season of Mardi Gras here in St. Denis, and the misspelling of “crew” was quite deliberate, but mostly that it consisted of some of the most prominent women in St. Denis, the wives and daughters and sisters of the powerful, and a handful of independent women as well.  

The invitation, printed on heavy card stock, gilt decoration and with neat, flowing copperplate script, asked her to attend an evening celebrating St. Denis’ most prominent female literary luminaries.  Oh, the glory of it, to be among people who appreciated such little social niceties as a proper invitation.  She thought she understood what they were about--another woman writer had arrived in their midst, and they wished to draw her into their circle.  Something in her was giddy about it, even at her age, so delighted to be included, welcomed, in such a way.  It hadn’t always been the case.

It was no hardship to attend either given that the reception was in the ballroom of the Castille.  So here she was, dressed in a flattering green gown that highlighted her eyes, here to meet the best and brightest lights of St. Denis’ women.  Hearing snippets of their chatter as she passed, introducing herself or being introduced one by one, recognizing a few of them from their prominence in the papers.

Henrietta Wicklow, the journalist and ardent suffragette who’d marched for the vote right alongside her deceased mother Dorothy, “Next year we ladies shall all be voting for president--”

A loud voice from a group of ladies clearly enjoying their champagne, a young woman declaring with a glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other, “Enjoy it now, gals, we’ve only a month until this government foolishness of abolishing liquor begins--”

Philomena Castille, wife of Claude Castille, owner of the very hotel they were now in, “--think that the Mardi Gras ball should reflect the theme of a new dawn for a new decade after the frightful few years we’ve had”, and Mrs. Castille then took charge of her to make further introductions with the brisk efficiency of a talented hostess.

Mary Barrett, wife of one of the men involved in St. Denis’ most prominent bookstore, and apparently also the local literary critic Martin Gillis, hiding behind a man’s name.  Something about the woman, small, dark, and neat, with a striking small beauty spot on her right cheek, looked oddly familiar.  But Margaret couldn’t quite place her.  Perhaps they’d met at some literary event before?  “Very pleased to meet you, Miss McCarthy, your book of poems is quite memorable.”  From her, it somehow didn’t sound like a platitude.

Now another person approached, and Mrs. Castile said, “Oh, and here’s another of our ladies with a talented pen.  We call her by her real name in the bosom of friends here, so here’s Miss Mary-Beth Landry. Though,” she winked one sapphire-blue eye, “you would know her better by her nom de plume, Leslie Dupont.  Miss Landry, this is Margaret McCarthy, the poetess.  She’s moving down from Boston to grace our city.” 

She’d heard of Leslie Dupont, a semi-scandalous writer of semi-scandalous books.  She had read several and rather enjoyed them, though some part of her blushed to admit it.  But there was the part of her that would always adore romance and adventure.  Though she hadn’t touched a great deal of Leslie Dupont’s books, including her most popular novel, “Sunset Over The Red Sage”, because those ones were about outlaws, highwaymen, bandits, and pirates.  If there was one thing she had no wish to read in this life, it was a romance involving that sort of man.  She’d been hurt enough by her own fantasies of that life without needing to read another woman’s ignorant rose-tinted version of it.    

Oh, but she wasn’t so ignorant at all, because as Mary-Beth Landry turned, it had been twenty years, but Margaret still recognized her.  Not Landry at all, oh no, but Gaskill.  Those tumbledown golden brown curls, the soft blue-grey eyes, the liberal sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks and nose that all still gave her something of an appealing girlishness even though she must have passed forty herself, and the lines beside her eyes and mouth said it as much as the ones Margaret saw in the mirror.

Her first instinct was the desire to turn and run before Mary-Beth could say her name, her old name, and expose Margaret in front of all these people as every bit as much an imposter as her.  The second was a flare of anger because even all these years later, she could remember being forced to endure watching Dutch sniffing around her, flirting with her shamelessly, and thinking to herself with raging despairing humiliation, That cheap little tramp, what does she have that I don’t, aside from a few more years of youth?  The third was to calm herself, because that was all old history and Dutch Van Der Linde wasn’t worth her concern, and frankly, she had drunk a glass of very fine whiskey eight years ago in pleasure at hearing the government’s Bureau of Investigation had finally caught up with him.  Bastard.  I hope the Devil himself has you as you deserve.  

Mary-Beth’s eyes went wide and startled, and she blurted, “Molly!”

Margaret might have slapped her, but she held herself together.  “My, it’s been so long since anybody called me that.”

“You two know each other?” Mrs. Castille said, looking at the two of them with surprise, but at least no suspicion.

“Oh, it was so very long ago,” Mary-Beth said, recovering rapidly.  “I’m ashamed to say that I...I broke her cousin’s heart.”

“You’ve broken quite a few hearts, my dear,” Mrs. Castille said cheerfully.  Yes, Margaret had heard about Leslie Dupont’s fast ways and string of romances never quite come to fruition.  Was there such a thing as a rakess?

Mary-Beth’s gaze stayed on hers, and she gave Margaret a shy, apologetic smile.  Surprisingly, she felt her pulse suddenly jump at the gesture, and it didn’t feel like alarm or anger.  “I do hope you can forgive me, M--Margaret.”

“Oh, long since forgotten,” Margaret assured her, glad she’d jumped quickly to cover her gaffe, and happy to follow her lead with that story.  “The fellow wasn’t worth the bother in the end, now was he?  We both said good riddance to him.”

“I’ll let you two catch up,” Mrs. Castille said, gesturing towards the balcony.  “The night air is quite fine.”

Given two weeks before she’d been in a miserable Boston winter, the weather here made for a pleasant change, she had to admit.  Knowing there was no escaping it, she followed Mary-Beth onto the balcony, some part of her very reluctant to have this conversation, but another part strangely intrigued by what the woman had become.  Curse her eternal romantic streak, but of course moving from dreamy guttersnipe and pickpocket to a successful authoress made for quite the tale.

Mary-Beth spoke first, keeping her voice low.  “We all wondered what had happened to you.  You just--vanished.”

“There was nothing to stay for,” she said, managing to keep the bitterness from her tone.  “I was never quite one of you, now was I?”  So she had simply not followed them when they cleared out from Shady Belle in an almighty hurry, saying the bank robbery had gone terribly wrong.  She’d gone to St. Denis and drunk herself silly for nearly a month, and then she’d sobered enough to tell herself she would take the first train in the station, wherever it was bound, which brought her back to Valentine.  Of course she would never stay there.  The first train into the Valentine station was bound for Omaha.  And she kept doing that until chance brought her to Boston.

“Oh, Molly--”

“Margaret,” she corrected with all the fierce, frosty bite of those Boston winters she’d left behind her.  “Molly” was only for her intimate friends, and Mary-Beth Landry née Gaskill was and had been nothing of the sort.  She relented somewhat, and asked, “What happened to them, if you know?”  She might not have belonged to them, they had made that quite clear, but that didn’t mean she wished them ill, let alone shot to pieces by Pinkertons.  She’d read about the big gunslingers of the gang dying in the papers over the years, of course, but all the little people like her, like Mary-Beth, had escaped notice.

“We got lucky.  Nobody else died that year after Lenny and Hosea,” Mary-Beth answered.  “I left a couple of weeks before the end of it all, Pearson and me together, but I’ve run into enough of them in the years since here and there.”  

“Arthur died, though?” Margaret said in confusion.  He clearly had been killed.  The papers had blared it everywhere in triumph, the Pinkertons bagging one more significant quarry even if Dutch himself slipped through their fingers.

If there had been anyone else in the gang she probably should have let herself like and consider halfway to a friend, it might well have been Arthur.  There was an awkward gentlemanliness and kindness towards her and all the women beneath that drawling uncouthness, as if he tried to keep the best of himself well hidden.  Fetching her that mirror only because she mentioned wanting one?  That was the sort of man Arthur Morgan had been, even if she’d been too much of a snob to see it at the time, far more swayed by Dutch’s smooth manners and darkly seductive charisma, the veneer of the proper gentleman of the sort she prized.  She couldn’t say she had mourned Arthur at the time, but she had thought about him now and again since.  He seemed like a better man than Dutch had let him be, and that felt like a shame.

Mary-Beth leaned closer, and she gave a knowing cat’s smile.  “The reports of his death may have been exaggerated.  The Pinkertons left him for dead, but it seems that wasn’t quite the case.”

“No!”  Delicious gossip, that, even if she could never tell another soul.  “Then--what?  Who?”

“Sadie’s the one who got him out alive.  They stayed together, ended up married, and they’re up in Canada with their children.  We don’t write much, just the occasional Christmas card, but it sounds as though they’re well last I heard.”

Margaret had to shake her head, trying to not laugh.  Arthur Morgan had married Sadie Adler?  That brash, angry half-feral woman strolling around in her pants and swearing a blue streak and toting a rifle, who had made it clear she’d as soon kill a man if he looked at her wrong?  But that was old Molly O’Shea talking, a posh lady looking down her nose at Sadie as a coarse farm wife who prided herself on being unnaturally mannish besides.  Well, well.  Hidden depths to her, I suppose.  Or perhaps she changed herself to something finer when it was all said and done.  She had done so herself.  It seemed Mary-Beth had, at least in some ways.

“Some of the rest are up there in Canada as well.  Charles, Karen, Abigail, and such.  Pearson’s out in Rhodes, and the Reverend in New York, last I heard.”  Abigail, still chasing the feckless boy-man father of her child when the boy was growing old enough to read.  Karen, a loudmouthed, chubby creature who fancied herself a hellraiser, had even punched Margaret in the face once.  Though I suppose deserved it, mocking her as I did.  Saying Sean MacGuire was a brainless, reckless fool and I knew hundreds more Irishmen just like him.  Certainly we both turned too much to the drink for the love of men who could never love us as we needed.  Abigail never did that at least, though John wasn’t nearly worthy of her that I saw, but the heart wants what it wants.  I made quite a solid proof of that lunacy. “Susan, Miss Grimshaw, she stayed around here for a bit, but she always was restless.  She’s out in San Francisco now, moved there a year after the earthquake.”  Margaret absorbed that, remembering the older woman and her need to feel relevant by bossing people around.  The two of them had quite the mutual disdain, Dutch’s young lover versus his older former flame.  Whereas back then she’d rolled her eyes at the jealous old biddy who clearly had it in for Dutch choosing another woman, now she was about the age Susan Grimshaw had been then.  She could look on it with some sympathy--how much it had hurt to see Dutch already abandoning her, and Susan’s loyalty and love for Dutch had been there even so many years later.  How hard must that have been?  How hard must it have been to be an unmarried woman approaching fifty, who most men now didn’t value at all?  Margaret had escaped that snare, but Dutch had kept Susan dependent on him all that time.  Perhaps that was the softening of years, and wisdom, that she could see such things now. 

Mary-Beth continued, “Tilly was actually here until earlier this year.  She and her husband Henri headed north to Chicago.  Better opportunities there for them there, though.  I do miss her dreadfully.  We used to try and meet every other Thursday at least, sometimes with the children.  I’d spoil them with candy and books and toys, and Tilly would always just smile at it.  Five children under twelve, quite the handful, but oh, how wonderful they all are.  I wonder if baby Amelie will even remember me.  She’s only two and a half now.”  She wore a wistful, faded, sad little smile at recounting those memories.  

Hearing Mary-Beth talk about all the women that had been with Dutch’s people then, it eased something in her to hear they all seemed to have done well and lived happy lives.  She’d long since had to face the idea that her youthful dismissal of all of them as a pack of cheap, coarse unmannered creatures not worthy of her time, as different from her bearing and breeding as chalk and cheese, had been wrong.  Learned that the line between being one of those women in the gutter and safely embroidering samplers in a graceful parlor was painfully razor thin.   Then Mary-Beth shrugged in a sharp, almost dismissive way, and there was something striving too hard for chipper casualness in her tone when she said, “So now it’s only little old me left here in St. Denis.” “And me now, I suppose.”  She said it before she could think better of it, laying claim to something she hadn’t cared about in so long, and hadn’t even felt a part of when she was in the thick of it.  And yet.

She’d heard that loneliness in Mary-Beth’s voice, and recognized with a startle that she’d felt that same seemingly indefinable loneliness all too often, for all she hadn’t been around anyone else who ran with Dutch’s gang, let alone thought she’d wanted them there.  

There was a part of her she couldn’t ever truly talk about, both from the shame of a foolish romance that would have labeled her as firmly ruined, and from the fear of being known as someone who’d been involved with all that unsavory outlaw business.  To be with one person she didn’t have to fearfully conceal that behind an ironbound mask, and recognizing the sheer bloody effort it had been these past twenty years to do it, felt like an agonizing relief that she had never known she wanted.  Like taking her corset off at the end of the day, laced stern and tight now against the ever-encroaching flesh of middle age, and breathing.

Mary-Beth looked at her, a gentle smile curving her lips.  “And you now.”  She hesitated, and then said almost shyly, “I did read ‘Odes to a Far Country’, you know.  Though my favorite poem in it is ‘The Butterfly and the Phoenix’.”

“Oh!”  She felt herself blushing, pleased but surprised.  “That’s unusual.  Nobody ever likes that one best.” One of her earliest published poems, and she looked back on it now as a somewhat mawkish, clumsy rumination from a woman facing an uncertain future, writing about metamorphosis, slumber, and fire from the ashes.  The symbolism in it felt treacly and heavy-handed to her now.  “It’s...very untidy.”

“Well, I like it.”  Mary-Beth spread her hands and shrugged.  “It’s honest.  It’s a very messy thing to remake yourself, isn’t it?”

She thought she understood now, with a flash of insight.  Mary-Beth had always seemed dreamy, even a bit dull at her insistence on painting everything in a romantic light, as if she simply couldn’t see the awful reality they lived in.  How much of that was true then and how much was an act, Margaret couldn’t say, given she wouldn’t give herself much credit for being terribly perceptive in those days.  But she had the suspicion Leslie Dupont now saw things clearer, and still chose to write those silly romances only because they brought some joy to the world.  Perhaps she wrote about outlaws and pirates only to purge her own demons in some way.

She felt that flicker in her chest again, confessing, “I liked ‘Ribbons of Scarlet’ best.”  That one was about a French noblewoman bound for the guillotine, and her love for the humble gardener who’d been her childhood friend.  Who then, of course, helped break her out of the Bastille itself, and they fled together, escaped to freedom in America.

“Nobody ever likes that one best,” Mary-Beth said, imitating Margaret’s Dublin accent dreadfully, turning it into some God-forsaken stage Irish and a poor one at that, and Margaret found herself smiling helplessly at it.  “People prefer their French Revolution stories with tragic and doomed endings, I’ve found.”

She sighed, looking out into the electric lamp-lit city at night, like a thousand fireflies glowing, fighting back the darkness. “I think we’ve had rather enough of tragic and doomed endings.”

They’d been young enough then, and foolish, and unable to see things clearly, let alone each other.  She’d been twenty-six, and Mary-Beth, what, twenty-one perhaps?  Now here they were, two middle-aged women brought together again in St. Denis by fate and literature both, and looking at the other woman, Margaret thought she felt something about Mary-Beth that just fit in some peculiar, easy way.  “I think we have,” Mary-Beth answered softly.  “I only wrote one.  My first book.  And I only implied it that way, and then, well, I undid it in the sequel anyhow when I thought better of it.”  She turned to look at Margaret.  “But here we are talking away and you’ve just gotten here to the gathering, and I’m keeping you all to myself.”

“I don’t mind, not at all,” she blurted, before she could help herself, and found herself blushing hotly again, and was surprised to see an answering blush in Mary-Beth’s cheeks.  At their age, no less, blushing like two schoolgirls in braids!  “But I probably should make the rounds, of course.  See and be seen.”

“Of course.”  Mary-Beth smiled at her.  “Do you have plans for Christmas?  I certainly don’t, not aside from the usual round of parties, but you know what I mean.  Real plans for Christmas Day, not social ones.  If not, you’d be welcome to come to my home, if you’d like.”  She reached out to touch Margaret’s arm gently, and oh, how glad she was the fashion was no longer for elbow-length gloves along with an evening gown, because the touch of those fingers on her bare arm sent a frisson of longing through her like she hadn’t felt in years.  She’d taken some to her bed discreetly when the mood struck, pleasant enough interludes, but there had never been anything of her heart in it.  This, oh, this?  This had destroyed her once and it could destroy her again, but how she suddenly wanted, something that wasn’t the overwhelming possession she had craved from Dutch, but something finer, brighter, something like kindred souls finding each other after so long.  

She didn’t have a mean bone in her body then, and I very much doubt she does now.  She’s not Dutch.  Telling herself that, feeling her heart hesitantly peek open only a crack, it was enough for now.  She looked up into Mary-Beth’s eyes, and smiled back.  “I’d like that very much.” 

A/N: Since it was a “Molly lives!” AU already, I decided to just go full “The gang members who died in Chapters 5 and 6 actually live!” AU, since neither Molly nor Susan are tough to spare their sad Beaver Hollow fates, Karen’s is ambiguous, and I’ve definitely explored the idea that there was a clear chance for Arthur if Sadie came back for him.  Especially the chance for Molly to reflect a bit on Susan and Karen with greater age and wisdom and see the similarities felt too good to pass up.

jungkook x y/n, besties to besties with benefits, a lot of texting, smut, fluff and college life, oh and lets pretend V wasn’t born in the christmas holidays

part 1/??

[00:19am] jungkook: please help me

{00:19am} jungkook: i don’t know what to get tae for his birthday

{00:23am} jungkook: Y/N!!!!!!!!!!

{00:25am} y/n: jungkook

{00:25am} y/n: his birthday is literally 5 days away

{00:26am} y/n: why are u like this

Truth be told, you weren't that surprised. Your best friend Jungkook was a novice at putting in effort for his friends birthdays and you were wholeheartedly used to that fact. The stress of finding something for your other best friend’s birthday on Friday was stressful enough for you, let alone the inevitable pleas of Jungkook’s text messages on Sunday evening coming through were enough to send you over the edge.

{00:28am} jungkook: TECHNICALLY it’s 6 days away...

You roll your eyes as you lay on your back, snuggled up under your duvet. You glance at your bedroom door, thinking of your roommate and close friend Nina. As Taehyung’s girlfriend, you wondered what sort of gift she bought for him.

{00:29am} y/n: You know I struggled myself! Have you asked Nina?

{00:29am} jungkook: NO she’ll hate me for leaving it so late D:

{00:29am} jungkook: I’ve been at my computer for ages. mY desperation has led me to WISH.COM

{00:30am} y/n: no she won’t but i get you

{00:30am] y/n: get off wish u idiot

{00:30am} y/n: shall we go shopping on wednesday? I’ll help you find something

You rub your eyes, unable to even pretend to think of gift ideas right now. You turn off your bedside lamp, your eyes straining in the dark as you thank the lords for your 1pm lecture tomorrow. It’s then that you remember Jungkook has an early morning class.

{00:35am} jungkook: YOU’RE THE BEST!!!!

{00:36am} y/n: you should be asleep kook

{00:37am} jungkook: i know i’ll get there

{00:37am} jungkook: can’t sleep rn

{00:37am} y/n: why? gift stress?

{00:38am} jungkook: lol, idk just can’t 

{00:38am} jungkook:

You?

You roll over in the dark, trying to ignore the weird feeling in your stomach.

{00:39am} y/n: I have a late class tomorrow

{00:39am} y/n: YOU however sir do not

{00:39am} y/n: plus you’ve not been getting enough sleep lately, you need to sort out your pattern or you’ll be grumpy for V’s birthday :)

{00:40am} jungkook: i got it covered, just wanted to sort out a gift plan first

{00:40am} y/n: got it covered?

{00:41am} jungkook: I can make myself tired lol, dw <3

{00:42am} y/n: you gonna knock yourself out? LOOOL :(

{00:43am} jungkook: no y/n 

{00:43am} jungkook: 0.o

Oh. Oh.

You clench your thighs together, suddenly in the mood to do that too. 

No, what the fuck, no. That would be weird...touching yourself knowing that your best friend was doing the same. It would be weird...right?

Although it was Jeon Jungkook, you can’t deny that you’ve thought about him, accidentally of course, during your alone times. It was a secret you wouldn’t even admit to yourself let alone him or anyone else. 

It was clearly just the dry spell talking. Your last boyfriend was well over a year ago and Jungkook was a guy. A hot guy. It’s probably normal to fantasise about him.

Except you didn’t fantasise about Tae, or Yoongi, or any of your other male friends. The thought alone sent a different feeling to your stomach, these were your FRIENDS. Practically your brothers.

So why was Jungkook any different?

{00:47am} jungkook: you still there? 

{00:49am} jungkook: don’t pretend like you don’t do it too.

Was this still friendly territory? The full stop in his last text did something to your lower stomach.

Okay, now you’re being weird. You start typing tentatively.

{00:50am} y/n: I mean yeah, who doesn’t?

{00:51am} jungkook: Do you miss sex?

{00:51am} y/n: amongst other things, yes

{00:52am} jungkook: Such as?

Butterflies dance in your stomach as you type your next words, this was brand new territory for you and Jungkook. You wouldn’t even talk about this stuff with Nina...

{00:53am} y/n: I miss being eaten out

Your fingers dance over the screen as you wait for his response. You close and shut the app quickly before reopening it. 

{00:53am} jungkook: mhm

That’s it? Your cheeks redden in the darkness of your room as you shuffle your legs under the covers. 

{00:54am} y/n: I should sleep, it’s getting pretty late for me now

{00:55am} jungkook: okay, yeah sure

You’re about to lock your phone and throw it to the other side of your bed when it buzzes one more time.

{00:57am} jungkook: But are you tired?

{00:59am} y/n: I...am getting there. Why?

{1:00am} jungkook: we could help each other out?

{1:00am} y/n: how?

Jeez, how are you already wet? The excitement of talking to Jungkook like this was too much, clearly. You were 99% sure he was insinuating what you thought he was. But it had been a long time since you sexted, it also wasn’t something you and your ex had done much throughout the relationship.

{1:02am} jungkook: I like talking to you like this. I want to hear what else you like.

{1:02am} jungkook: let’s make each other tired

{1:02am} y/n: jeon!!!! you wanna sext?

{1:02am} jungkook: you made me horny y/n!

{1:03am} y/n: that was alllllll you jk! horny mf

Jungkook reads your message. The absence of the speech bubble appearing makes you stomach twist. Your phone goes dark waiting for it to appear. As much as you reprimanded him for his boyish behaviour, something in you wanted it to continue. But you probably blew it by being so whiney. Fuck. You didn’t know you wanted to sext Jungkook so bad.

And then.

{jungkook: Attachment 1 image}

You hesitate, before sliding open the chat. He’s laying in bed, the phone angled down at this legs in his black sweat pants. His thighs pressed close together in the tight yet stretchy material, his dick protrudes up from under the trousers, casting a dark shadow over his stomach. You know right there and then that this boy’s nudes would look like art.

{1:08am} jungkook: let’s help each other out

{1:08am} jungkook: this is what thinking about you did to me

{1:09am} jungkook: tell me if you want me to stop

You stare at the messages on your phone, fingers hovering over the keys, your instinct to explode your feelings into capital letters and ask him what’s happening. Because that’s how honest you too are...so I guess it’s normal to be this honest too.

You fling the duvet off and swing your legs out of bed. Your heart hammers in your chest as you kneel in front of the mirror, not really thinking with your brain right now. You pull off the baggy t-shirt that floats around your torso, leaving you in your underwear. You place a hand over your breasts, hiding your nipples in a seductive fashion, before using your other hand to snap a photo, hiding half of your heated face with the phone.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you press send.

You squeal, throwing your phone face down on bed, hoping you didn’t wake Nina up. The last thing you needed was for her to come bursting in to your room right now.

{1:13am} jungkook: holy shit

{1:13am} jungkook: you’re so hot

{1:13am} jungkook: i’m so hard for you

{1:13am} jungkook: wow

You climb quickly back into bed, his words sending electric waves to your core.

{1:14am} y/n: shall I touch myself?

{1:14am} jungkook: fuk yes

{1:14am} jungkook: i can use this picture right?

{1:14am} y/n: that's why i sent it kook :’)

{1:15am} jungkook: right okay haa good

{1:15am} jungkook

: holy wow

You try not to giggle at his cuteness, when his next message makes you gasp.

{1:16am} jungkook: god i wanna taste you

That was all it took to get your hand to work. More dirty words are exchanged, both of you sweating and misspelling, as you both get yourselves off to each other.

{1:26am} y/n: jungkook i’m gonna cum

{1:27am} jungkook: shit y/n me too

{1:27am} jungkook: fucck

Your orgasm washes over you. Your eyes flutter shut as you imagine Jungkook’s lips on your pussy, his body on top of you, the look on his face as he comes. You wonder if he’s loud in bed. If he’s moaning right now.

{1:30am} y/n: That was so fun.

{1:30am} jungkook: jesus. yes it was

{1:31am} y/n: maybe we can do it in person some time?

{1:37am} jungkook: yeah?

{1:37am} y/n: yeah, i guess i really have missed this stuff

{1:37am} y/n: wanna be friends with benefits?

{1:40am} jungkook: Is that what you want?

{1:40am} y/n: i think it sounds fun, what about you? are you down?

{1:41am} jungkook: mhm yes i’m down :)

Your newly found post orgasm confidence delegated some rules over text to Jungkook, which he easily agreed on. The main one being that should the opportunity arise to be physically imitate with each other, the two of you would be exclusive, and let the other person know if they were interested in being sexual with someone else. To which the arrangement would stop.

And under no circumstances, would it come between your friendship.

The two of you had been best friends for over 2 years now, meeting through Taehyung at college party. You didn’t even think about seeing him face to face after the occurrences of last night and what the ‘vibe’ would be, as Nina might say. In fact, it still hadn’t fully settled in that you had sexted Jungkook last night. As you left your apartment just after 12 to get some lunch before your lecture, it had felt like a hazy hot dream.

{GROUPCHAT: 1 new message}

{12:14am} V: anyone on campus ??? I bought too much food from the cafe. Need to share. Heading to the field if anyone wants to eat with me!

You type with two hands as you walk quickly onto campus.

{12:14am}: y/n: I’m almost at the field!

{12:14am} jungkook: I’m at the field now, just finished my jog

You stare at the message that popped up at the same time as yours. Butterflies fill your stomach again at the thought of seeing Jungkook in the flesh after the filthy wishes that were shared between the two of you less than 12 hours ago.

You look up as you reach the grass. Laying down on the green, propped up on his lower arms is the man is your best friend and new sexting buddy Jeon Jungkook. His fluffy black hair is pushed back with a sweat band that you’re sure belongs to Yoongi. The arms of his long sleeved black sweat shirt is rolled up to his elbows, and your eyes fall to his black jogging bottoms. You’re sure they’re a different pair, but the photo he sent you last night burns in your mind and you feel a familiar warmth down below.

Before you reach him, Taehyung appears, slinging down a grocery bag on the grass to which Jungkook leans forward and peers into, flicking his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“Hey, Y/N!” Tae lifts a hand. “You know you two were the ones I was expecting to accept free food at the speed of light.”

“Hi guys.” You fall to your knees on the soft grass, dropping your bag beside you.

Jungkook’s eyes flicker over you before he meets your gaze. “Hey.” A shy smile ghosts his lips before he opens a packet of Doritos.

“Do you know if Nina got up in time for work?” Tae asks.

“Yeah, she was gone long before me.” You smile, focusing your attention on V.

“So is she not quitting the barista job then?” Jungkook sits up, shoving crisps into his mouth.

“No, she there’s no where else she can work where they’ll let her do the hours she wants.” V explains.

“Yeah, lucky bitch only has classes two days a week.” You scoff. “I should have taken politics.”

“Except one of those days is Friday.” He sighs, pulling out a sandwich and passing it to you. “Guess I’ll be high and dry on my birthday.”

“She’s not coming to your party Friday night?” Jungkook scrunches up the crisp packet noisily.

“Oh yeah she is, but I won’t see her until then, and if I’m not smashed, Nina will be, so...no birthday fuck for me.” He sighs wistfully. “Not one I’d remember anyway.”

Usually this sort of statement from Tae would breeze over you, but your hands become hot and you notice Jungkook swallow and cough. You wonder if he regrets the arrangement you agreed upon last night. You desperately needed to talk about this in person.

“So, um, why do you have so much food?” You open the packet, shoving the bread into your mouth.

“They were doing some deals at the cafe.” V munches. “Oh, to be a student.”

Suddenly, Jungkook stands.

“I’m gonna go get cleaned up, enjoy your lunch guys.” He pats you on the head as he goes. “See you Wednesday, Y/N.”

You bristle at the friendly gesture, again something you wouldn’t have previously batted an eye at, but given the nature of your current situation it seemed...unnatural.

“What you doing Wednesday?” Taehyung asks through a mouthful of baguette.

“Oh, uh, just...meeting up.” You stammer, your eyes following Jungkook’s legs as they head towards the path.

“Hmm.” Taehyung smirks, drinking from his water bottle. “Just meeting up, huh.”

“What?” You snap your head towards him.

“You can’t fool me, Y/N.”

Oh god, you couldn’t be talking about this with Tae before you’d even had a chance to talk about it with Jungkook. How did he know anyway? Were the two of you really being that awkward?

“How-...what?” You blush.

“It’s something to do with my birthday isn’t it?” He grins.

You desperately try to hide your expression of relief and replace it with playfulness. You force yourself to roll your eyes. “Brat.”

After a day and a half of classes, you’re glad to have your mind preoccupied with no more awkward run ins with Jungkook, since your classes were held on opposite sides of the campus. Wednesday morning rolls around, and you’re surprised that he texts you first.

{10:54am} jungkook: Heeey my favourite creative gift giver

You blink at his confidence, baring in mind the previous conversation of your ‘benefit’s’ were floating above his latest text.

You walk into the kitchen, a smile on your face as you type out a reply.

{10:55am} y/n: You’re lucky you get me to leave the house on my day off :P

“Morning!” Nina beams at you, shoving fruit into her smoothie maker. You smile back at her, wishing you were as put together as she was. It makes sense she had a bunch of guys fawning for her attention before she and V got together. It’s even cuter knowing that she dodged them all to be with our lovely Taehyung.

{10:56am} jungkook: you can’t resist the kook ;)

Your bite on your fingernails, staring bewildered at the boy texting you. It felt like someone else was using Jungkook’s phone, his flirtation over text confusing you to no end, whilst his shy demeanour in person suggested he had a split personality. And still, how this was all wrapped up in your best friend of over 2 years you’ll never be able to believe it.

Still, ignoring your nerves, you were looking forward to seeing him properly. To shake off this high school cyber flirt situation.

“Who’s the guy?” Nina slams her hands down on the counter separating the two of you.

“What?” You jump.

“Who’s the guy that’s got you blushing and smiling at your phone like a love sick puppy?” Nina’s eyes sparkle.

You sigh. Since dating Taehyung, Nina had become more interested in your love life, constantly wanting you on the same level as her. She’d also become much more intuitive, to your dismay.

But this was Nina, and you couldn’t hide anything from her. Plus, you needed her deep and thoughtful opinions.

“Wait, so, you haven’t even SPOKEN about it yet?” Nina looks gobsmacked as she keeps missing her mouth with her smoothie straw.

“No! It happened on Sunday night, and we’ve both had classes.” You glance down at your phone, the latest message from Jungkook on the screen, saying he’ll meet you outside your apartment at 12:30.

“Damn...you and jungkook...who’d have thought.” Nina taps her glass.

“He’s seen my boobs Nina!” You exclaim, shoving a left over banana from Nina’s smoothie making into your mouth.

“I bet he’d love to see that.” Nina makes a square with both her thumbs and forefingers, capturing the erotic display in front of her.

“God, you’re spending too much time with V.” You roll your eyes, chomping loudly.

“And you’re spending too much time with Jungkook!” Nina points. “Close your mouth!”

You pout chewing quietly, as you pick up your phone.

“Shit! Nina, how long have we been sitting here, I have to get ready.”

“Wow!” Nina laughs as you leap away from the counter to your bedroom. “Anyone would think you’re going on a date!”

She ducks, missing the banana skin as it hurls over her head.

Nina’s words get to you. Why did you care what you looked like? It’s not like you’ve never hung out with your best friend before. No. You knew why. It’s because it wasn’t just Nina’s words that got to you.

‘You’re so hot.’

You hadn’t even thought if Jungkook had ever found you attractive or not. It was a low grade compliment that you so guilty enjoyed. You wonder if he found you hot every day, when you ate together, played video games together, when you attended the same parties did he ever look at you in your short skirts and think...

“Hey, Y/N.”

Your weird and wild thoughts are cut short by the man himself. Jungkook approaches you as you lean against the wall of your accommodation building. He stops in front of you, his eyes scanning your previously distracted face. Did he always stand this close?

“Ready to go?”

Together you drive the short journey to the mall. You discuss gift ideas as Jungkook watches the road, whilst you try not to watch his hands.

He parks the car in the underground parking lot and unbuckles his belt quickly. You sigh. Unlike him, YOU can’t go the whole day without talking about IT.

“Jungkook.” You start, your voice dropping an octave.

He freezes like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “Y/N.”

“Do you still...about the other night, um...” You mentally kick yourself, wishing you’d prepared what you were going to say before you said it. “I had fun...is what I’m trying to say.”

“So did I.” He smiles. “A lot of fun.”

“Good. Me too. Are you still...down?” You meet his gaze, wishing you weren't having this conversation at such a close proximity.

“Yeah.” He catches his lip for a moment in between his teeth and you swear you almost stop breathing. He glances over your face. “Sorry, down to...?”

You smack his arm lightly. “You know...down to get down.” You wiggle your eyebrows before regretting it instantly. “Ahem, down to be friends with benefits.”

He gazes at you, his eyes darkening. “Is that what you want?”

Why does he keep asking that? Of course you want it! You wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise.

“Yeah.” You tell him. “I don’t wanna be one of those crazy uptight people that need to get laid.”

He breathes air out of his nose. “We wouldn’t want that would we?” He smirks, leaning closer to you until his breath is fanning your lips. “I think we know our first order of business.”

“Mhm?” You mumble, trying to still calm your breathing as you stare at his wet lips that he just licked, purposefully. His hand slides around to your back.

Suddenly there’s a click as he undoes your seatbelt.

“Find a birthday present for Taehyung!” He pulls away and opens his car door.

You let out a breath. Jeon Jungkook.

Shopping was taking longer than expected. It was hard to find something that didn’t scream ‘happy birthday, I just bought this from the mall 2 days ago!’. Jungkook wasn’t making it any easier, he was more interested embracing the role of the best friend with benefits.

“Hey, wanna take a look in here?” He throws an arm around you, nudging you towards the lingerie store.

“Jungkook I’m here to help you find a present for Taehyung. Have you forgotten that I’ve already got something to give him?”

“Okay okay, I’m just saying. I’d definitely want to see you in that.” He points to a black lace plunge bodysuit worn by mannequin. 

“Mhm, yeah?” You lower your voice, drawing his attention back to you. “Well, you said first order of business was to find a birthday present for Tae, so that’s what we’re doing right now.”

He smirks down at you. “Fine. What do you suggest?”

“I have an idea.” You tug on his hand a few stores down. “You should get him a whole new outfit. He’s always telling you how much he loves your style!”

“Yeah, that would be cool.” He smiles. “See, this is why I needed your help! You’re good with this stuff!”

“Come on!”

Excitedly, the two of you begin picking out clothes you both like and that you think V will love. Eventually you come up with a handful of shirts, trousers, jackets and shoes.

“Okay, now we gotta put them into outfits and choose which one we like the best.” Jungkook dumps the clothes on a seating area, the mall is quiet today. Most people are at work or college on a weekday, leaving the seating areas open to have clothes dumped upon.

“Kook, you can’t choose like this. You need to try them on. You guys are like the same size.”

“Ah, really?” He groans. “I’m too hungry for this.”

“We’ll get food after this.” You pick up the clothes and shove them into his chest. “Go.” You nod to the changing rooms.

He carries the items to the changing rooms, you follow along behind, letting your hand feel the mens clothes hung up on the racks as you pass.

“Hey, uh, got a few items here.” Jungkook shrugs to the college aged boy behind the changing room desk.

The guy barely looks up from his phone as he nods Jungkook down the hallway to the changing rooms. You stay behind, pulling out your phone.

{13:23pm} nina bean!: Hey?! How’s it going ;) x

{13:35pm} y/n: Fine lol, I don’t know what you think is happening at the MALL x

You wait for her reply, your eyes falling to the ground by the desk, where a crumpled up t-shirt lies. You stoop forward to pick it up, and it’s only your favourite choice out of all the options. There’s no way he’s not trying this one on. The man behind the counter pays no attention as you start down the hallway, the t-shirt in your grasp.

“Jungkook.” You whisper.

Finally, he answers you from the end of the corridor. “Yeah?”

You pull open the curtain and gasp.

“Jesus, Y/N!” Jungkook scrambles to pull any pair of trousers over his bare legs as he stands in his boxers. 

“You said yeah!” You step inside the changing cubicle with him, for a reason you can’t think of, closing the curtain behind you from the inside.

“Yeah doesn’t mean ‘whip open the curtain for anyone to see!’” He sits down on the small bench.

“Oh chill out, there’s literally no one here today.” You hold up the shirt, standing in front of him. “You dropped this.”

He takes the shirt, opening it up to inspect it with large curiosity. His cheeks crimson. You chuckle quietly. “You know, you’ll have to get used to me seeing you naked right?”

His eyebrows flick upwards as he hides a shy smile. “Right.”

It seems awkward Jungkook has returned. Unbeknownst to you, the idea of being intimate with you already sent his heart rate through the roof. Realising the idea goes beyond hypothetical advances and flirtatious jokes was enough give Jungkook a heart attack.

It was only then that the thought occurred to you, maybe you had wanted this kind of relationship with him for a long time, and maybe he had too.

As you ponder this revelation, your eyes drop to a new piece of art on his shoulder. 

“Hey.” Your fingers reach out before you can stop them, brushing the inked skin. “You got a new tattoo?”

He shivers under your touch, staring up at you, as if he doesn’t know what you’ll do next. His fingers reach out, before he can stop them, and pull you closer by your jean belt hoop. “Like it?”

“Love it.” You whisper, drawing around the outline with your nail. He hisses.

You clear your throat and back off. “I’ll be outside when you’re done.”

Jungkook stands up, keeping the close proximity as he backs you into the wall of the cubicle. “Promise me something, Y/N.” He murmurs, tracing your jawline with his finger.

“What, kook?”

“I’ll always have you. No matter what.”

“Of course cringe ball.” You whisper.

He smiles then, relieving some of the tension in the air. His smile is infectious, you giggle back at him. When he looks at your lips, his smile fades, and your heart pounds in your ears. You can hear his shaky breath as he leans in, so slowly that it’s almost unnoticeable. Painfully slow. He stops, a hair away from your lips as they part.

“Kook-” You murmur.

At the sound of his nickname he wastes no more time. Bringing his lips to yours eagerly, one hand caressing your jaw whilst other rests above your hip. The kiss is passionate, his thigh pokes in between yours in an attempt to get as close to you as possible. You grant access to his tongue as it shyly asks for permission against your teeth. The feeling of your tongue against his seems to spur him on. He whimpers into your mouth, pressing his crotch against yours. You catch your breath as his mouth leaves yours, only to trail kisses along your jaw and down your neck. “Kook...” You moan softly as he moves your top strap and sucks on your collarbone.

“Mmm?” He moves back to your mouth, kissing you deeply.

“We have to...choose...an outfit...” You breath in between kisses.

“Mmm, I know.” He pulls away from your lips, touching them with his finger. Then he steps back and grabs an outfit, including the t-shirt you chose. “I’ve chosen.”

“Did you try them on?”

“All except this.” He pulls the shirt over his head and looks in the mirror. “It’s fine. It’ll fit.” He pulls it back off and smirks when he catches you staring. He leans forward and kisses you on the nose. “Let’s go eat.”

You pick up the discarded clothes to return and he starts to help you. “That was hot.” He throws a smile in your direction.

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a kink for public places I didn’t know about?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I guess you’ll find out all about my kinks.” He winks, pulling open the curtain. 

As you both leave the store with outfit for Taehyung, you check your phone.

{13:40pm} nina bean!: You tell me ;) x

Something tells you, you will.

After a full day of classes on Thursday, you and Nina meet and walk home together. She’s completely invested in your friendly sexual adventures, but decides to broach a different type of question.

“Did you always know you wanted Jungkook?”

“I didn’t always want him.” You correct her. “I always knew he was cute...well, more than cute, but who didn't? He’s been a great friend to me since we met...we’re just helping each other out.”

“Y/N, you just made out with your best friend, who was TOPLESS, let’s not forget. IN A CHANGING ROOM STALL. You’re telling me there was no spark? No passion? No...”

“I didn’t say that.” You hide a smirk as Nina squeals beside you, tugging your arm. 

“Oh yes! I can’t wait till you start dating. I can FINALLY double date with my bestie. There’s so many couples date ideas I want to try out with the four of us-”

“Who said I want to be in a couple?!” You gesture wildly. 

“Well what DO you say, Y/N? You just admitted that there was a spark.”

“There can be a spark in my situation.” You protest. “It passionate because it’s fun. I think he’s hot, he thinks I’m hot. We’re already comfortable with each other. It’s the perfect match.”

“Perfect match.” Nina pokes you.

“Nina! Are you not familiar with the term ‘FRIENDS with benefits’?”

“Yes, I am familiar.” Nina snaps. “Very familiar, actually.”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow. It was a rare occurrence that you found something out about Nina that you didn’t already know.

“Oh, indeed.” She nods. “It was a disaster. I fell for him stupidly fast, and then he told me he was getting back with his ex and that was that. He’d been thinking of HER the entire time. Point is, it’s better to stick to the generic way of dating in this day and age, so you KNOW where his head is at. Trust me.”

“Yeah well, Jungkook is my best friend, he’s not thinking of anyone.” You tell her. 

“I know!” She nods. “Sorry. I don’t want to worry you. I just want you to be happy, like I am.”

“I am perfectly happy with my current relationship with Jungkook.” You reassure her.

She smiles, her eyes lighting up once the two of you reach your accommodation. “V!” She exclaims.

“Hey!” V holds a small bunch of flowers as he wraps his arms around his girlfriend. 

“What’s this? I thought I wasn’t seeing you until your party.” Nina blinks up at him.

“Yeah, about that. I wanted an afternoon with my girl before we get shit faced drunk with our friends. I’m taking you out to dinner.”

“V, you’re so cute!” Nina gasps. “I’m suppose to be spoiling you this week!”

“Hey, Y/N!” V ruffles your hair. “Mind if I steal your roommate?”

“Not at all.” You laugh.

“Oh, V, I’m not exactly ready for a dinner date.” Nina cups her own cheeks self consciously.

“You’re gorgeous.” He taps her nose. “Don’t be silly.”

Nina turns to you with the flowers in her grasp. “Can you put these in some water for me?”

“Sure.” You smile.

You watch them skip away, thoughts swirling. You couldn’t imagine Jungkook making a gesture like that. To another girl, yes, but to you? 

Who knows what you wanted anymore.

After dropping your bag on your bedroom floor, you decide to take a long hot shower. You step out to see a flash on your phone. 4 memes from Jungkook.

{16:44} y/n: thanks for the meme spam :’)

{16:45} jungkook: I should probably stop sitting in my towel scrolling through memes and get dressed lol I'm so relatable

{16:45} y/n: LMAO I’M DOING THE SAME THING RN

{16:45} jungkook: proof

Here comes that excitement in your stomach again, who cares if you weren’t in a proper relationship? Who cares if Jungkook’s feelings weren’t as intense as yours? Your relationship now was exhilarating. 

You let the towel drop from your body and glance at the mirror, your figure blurry with steam from the glass, but there’s enough to see what he wants to see, whilst leaving more to the imagination.

Snap.

You send the photo and put on a pair of shorts and t-shirt, climbing into bed. The exhaustion of a day full of absorbing information comes crashing down.

{16:48} jungkook: fuck that’s sexy

{16:48} jungkook: wanna see me?

{16:48} y/n: yes please

{jungkook: Attachment 1 image}

You were right. This boy knows how to take nudes. He holds his dick in one hand, the camera settled into selfie mode to show his v line and tense stomach. You gasp quietly at how big he is. He sits on the side of the bath, his towel discarded beside him.

You move your panties aside and start rubbing in slow circles at the sight of him.

{16:50} y/n: i’m touching myself

{16:50} y/n: wow you’re so hard already

{16:50} jungkook: that’s what you do to me baby

{16:51} y/n: i want to send you something else

{16:51} jungkook: ?

You video yourself, sliding your finger up and down your clit, drawing the slick up to your stomach. You send it to him, giddy as a school girl. 

{16:52} jungkook: fuck

{16:52} jungkook: stop y/n

You feel your face heat up at his request. Was it too much? You look down at your pussy self consciously.

{16:53} jungkook: Can I come over?

You say yes.

Jungkook’s accommodation is a ten to fifteen walk away. You change into a thin vest top and sexier gym shorts despite the cold weather. You stand in front of the mirror, overthinking as per usual. Was it too try hard? He’s seen you in what you normally wear to chill and snack in after a day of classes, this was clearly for him. 

But you kind of liked that.

-

hi!!!! this is my first time writing in about 5 years o.O thanks for reading!!! i’m weak for best friend jungkook imagines so I thought i’d try and make one. LEMME KNOW IF YOU WANT A PART 2. 

<3 

For Rumbelle Pandemic/Quarantine prompts: “Please - he’s burning up!” But can I prompt "she's" instead of "he's"? I'm a sucker for protective/woobie Gold/Weaver.

Prompt list is here

Okay, you asked for it. Since you mentioned Weaver, and you want it to be ‘she’s’ burning up’, I’m going to make TLU Weaver suffer…

[AO3]

Weaver barged through the double doors of the hospital corridor, hearing them swing shut behind him. He was almost running, his daughter cradled in his arms, brown curls damp from the water he had been using to try to bring down her fever. Tilly clutched at his shirt, moaning fretfully as she was jostled by him having to swerve around an old couple shuffling by, masks hiding their faces.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, trying to keep the fear from his voice. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

Tilly coughed, and he turned his face away, squeezing his eyes shut and cursing the lack of masks available. The mayor had taken a lead in dealing with the outbreak, and was dealing with things as best she could by rationing supplies and locking down much of the working population, but every state was under-resourced, supplies were low, and the federal government seemed to have gone into hiding.

Through another set of double doors, and he had reached the reception desk, crowds of people standing around talking in raised voices, the medical staff trying to keep order. Weaver hung back a little, not wanting to get too near the others, but quickly slipped into the space left by a young woman pushing an elderly man in a wheelchair, a respirator over his mouth and nose.

“If it’s not the virus and it’s not life-threatening, you’ll have to go home,” said the nurse behind the desk, without preamble.

She looked weary, brown hair tied up and starting to come loose, her face drawn. Weaver felt a stab of sympathy for her.

“It’s my daughter,” he said. “She has it. I - I was looking after her at home, but she’s getting worse by the hour.”

The nurse sighed, reaching for a clipboard. Her name badge read Gale.

“Fill this out,” she said, not unkindly. “Waiting time’s four hours, unless a bed comes up in the children’s ward before then.”

“Four hours?” he said desperately. “Please! She’s burning up!”

Nurse Gale gestured helplessly around at the chaos in the reception area, and Weaver sighed, shifting Tilly into the crook of one arm and reaching for the clipboard.

“Right.”

He began scribbling her details, almost misspelling their address in his tiredness. The noise in the waiting area was a raucous clamour in his head, making it hard to concentrate. When did the symptoms start? Two days ago? Three? When did I last sleep more than an hour?

“Daddy, I feel bad.”

Tilly’s voice was hoarse from coughing, weak and fragile, and Weaver instinctively hugged her closer, kissing her forehead. Nurse Gale’s face softened a little, somehow making her look even wearier.

“How old is she?” she asked.

“Four and a half.”

“You have other kids?”

He hesitated.

“Not yet.”

Nurse Gale glanced around, gesturing to a tall, dark-haired man in blue scrubs, who had just entered the room and was making for the desk.

“Did that Mills kid go home yet?” she asked.

“Five minutes ago, give or take,” he said. “There’s a bed on the kids’ ward. Is this my new patient?” 

Nurse Gale snatched the clipboard from Weaver, glancing at it briefly before shoving it at the doctor.

“Matilda Weaver, four and a half, presented with symptoms three days ago, rapid progression and deterioration.” She glanced at Weaver. “Go with Dr Milliner.”

Weaver nodded his thanks, following the doctor from the room and down another corridor. The world had taken on a dreamlike quality, everything around the edges of his vision blurred and indistinct, his focus on Tilly in his arms, and the hurrying figure of Dr Milliner ahead. By the time he had gotten Tilly to the ward and she was taken from him, he felt as though he was outside his own body, floating above and looking down at the helpless man whose daughter was reaching for him from the arms of strangers, crying. A curtain was swiftly pulled around the bed. 

“You can see her in two hours,” said Dr Milliner. “Make sure you wash your hands thoroughly. Soap and water in the restrooms.”

He waited only for Weaver’s dazed nod before turning his back, and the doors swung shut, cutting off the view.

Weaver stumbled down the corridor, finding the nearest restroom to wash his hands, the heat of the water and the rhythmic motion of it somehow soothing. There was a pile of paper towels there, and he dried off, glancing at himself in the mirror. His eyes were dark and heavy, black shadows beneath, his face drawn and his cheeks and chin coated in three-day stubble. He shook his head, reaching for the door. If he wasn’t allowed back for two hours, perhaps he could get some sleep. It was hard to care for a sick child alone.

He glanced up at the signs in the corridor, directions to different wards. Finding the one he sought, he trudged down the corridor, ignoring those that passed him. He recognised the corridor that he stepped into, with its dark blue tiles scattered seemingly at random amongst pale grey. The isolation ward. Counting the doors in his head, he stopped outside number four and glanced through the square of glass to the room beyond.

Lacey’s eyes were closed, dark curls spread out on the pillow around her, limp and dull after days in the hospital. She had fallen ill two weeks ago, and had deteriorated so rapidly that Weaver had been desperately afraid that he would lose her. She was now off the ventilator, and was breathing normally, but Weaver had been unable to relax once Tilly had also fallen ill. His body was tight with a low key, but ever-present terror at the thought of one of those he loved the most slipping away. Lacey’s belly curved upwards, covered by the pale green hospital blanket, their second child due in less than a month. He wondered what kind of world it would be born into.

Weaver pushed open the door, slipping into the room and going to sit by the bed. Chances were he would be asked to leave if a doctor came in, but perhaps he would be able to pass at least a little of the two hours he would have to wait to see Tilly. Sitting down was a relief, his body crying out for rest, and he hesitated a little before reaching out to take Lacey’s hand. Her fingers were cool. He remembered when they had been scalding hot, her whole body burning up with a raging fever. Just as Tilly’s was now.

Lacey inhaled, eyes fluttering, and he felt himself smile as she turned her head a little, recognition showing in her eyes. Her cheeks were a little sunken, her weight having dropped. Worry flared to life in him again, but he kept the smile frozen in place.

“Hey,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said gently.

“What day is it?”

“Tuesday.”

“Oh.” She looked puzzled, as though she was trying to remember the days she had missed as she fought the virus. “Is it visiting time?”

“Not yet. I probably shouldn’t be here.”

Lacey smiled a little, squeezing his hand.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“Exhausted,” she said. “Hard to stay awake. But getting better, I think. How’s Tilly?”

He hesitated, debating whether to tell her their daughter was seriously ill. His lower lip wobbled, his eyes stinging with tears, and he squeezed her hand. A white lie, that’s all. A white lie to ease her mind.

“She’s fine,” he lied. “She’s gonna be just fine, and so are you. We’ll take you home soon, and we’ll be together. All of us.”

“Yeah.” Lacey closed her eyes again, hand slipping from his. “Together.”

As a dyslexic person…

You know, often times people hurt us without intending to. Us just meaning humans in general. We’re a stupid species, and we make mistakes. That’s okay. And everyone’s feelings are different, I know. Still, sometimes I have to really wonder how people don’t realize how what they are saying is hurtful.

And this post is half a vent and half a cautionary thing. If you ever talk to a dyslexic person, please be mindful of these things. Whether or not they’ll actually be hurt by some of these is not for me to tell you but for them, but you should still be mindful of it. Conversation and stuff, works with people of all kinds, you know?

If you have dyslexia yourself, please feel free to add on with your own experiences. And please read the post yourself, too. Because, as I already said, sometimes we hurt each other without wanting to, because different things hurt different people.

Now, let’s get to it:

1) A lot of the time people will say something like “That’s great for someone with dyslexia!” And I know they mean to compliment me. I know they mean to say that it is an accomplishment. And it probably is. But by saying that, you’re actually devaluating my accomplishment. It’s basically the same problem as if someone said “You’re so nice for a man.” or “That’s such an impressive career for a woman.” There’s a serious difference between giving a compliment and giving a compliment in relation to something about you.

I worked for the reading speed I have. I worked for the capability to write with so little misspellings that I could pass as just another student. I worked for being able to read a text I haven’t read before. I worked for being able to read out loud to the class without making an utter fool out of me. I worked, for years, about an hour a day, in therapy and at home, until my head hurt form the effort, despite the frustration, despite the insults, despite questioning if anything would ever actually help. So the last thing I need is for you to tell me that my efforts and my work make me “good for a dyslexic person”. Tell me I did good. I’d love to hear that. Tell me my work can be seen. But don’t remind me that my efforts will only ever be seen in the context of my diagnosis. At one point, I managed to become one of the top students in my literary class when it came to spelling in exams. And I still only got praised with that phrase. It’s honestly gotten to the point where the compliment makes me feel bad about myself. It’s not a compliment anymore! Just… Don’t. Don’t.

2) One time I was talking with my teacher about how the others would call me pretentious and say I only relied on my diagnosis and the “advantages” I supposedly got (they meant the stuff that was supposed to make my disadvantages less bad, I think). And she said that I shouldn’t take it to heart, that they didn’t know what they talked about and “whoever says someone like you shouldn’t be here is stupid.” A little context, we have a system with different forms of schools, the one I choose to attend is the form with basically all advanced classes.

Now, in on itself, this was a really great thing to say. The reason it’s still stuck with me years later in a negative sense is because no one had, in fact, questioned my position at said school. I had never even heard anyone say that dyslexic people being at this form of school was weird or anything. Never. The first time the idea that I had to prove myself capable of belonging there had been placed in my head at that very moment. She didn’t meant to do that, I know she didn’t. And that makes it all the worse, because she was trying to make things better and she was so kind about it. I can’t even be angry at her for planting that thought in my head! And the way she so casually said that, as if it was a known fact that people would think I didn’t belong there, as if it was only natural for people to say something like that to me - even if she said they’d be stupid and wrong to do so - really hurt. A lot.

So all I’m asking is, please check what was said to someone. Don’t assume what they might have heard others say about them. If you’re wrong, knowing that people could possibly think that on top of everything else can feel… icky.

3) I’ve meet a lot of ignorant people in my life. We all have, haven’t we? And one of those people was my teacher for one horrible year. I pity everyone who ever has to live through her classes at this point. Why do people who can’t respect others have a mind of their own become educators again?

Anyways, I’ve posted about this before, but she was sure that she knew better than me what dyslexia meant, as well as that dyslexia had to be the same as reading and writing disorder and I had my facts wrong. Surprising no one she never really cared much that I couldn’t do the things my classmates could do. And one day she had the nerve to tell me that “class is over and you should have been able to write that down in time if you’d actually worked. So, if you really need these notes, just ask someone for them. I’m sure even you can manage that, right?” and take the notes down from the board. She didn’t have to do that, and she had put those notes there in the last minute. I’d told her they were too small for me to read and that I couldn’t tell the letters apart like that. She hadn’t cared. Yeah… That was one of the few times a teacher made me cry in the bathroom.

So, even though I can’t believe I have to say that, don’t assume you know what someone can or can’t do, and listen to them when they talk about their experience. If they say they can’t do something, they can’t. And no matter how much you think to know about a disability, when someone lives with it, they know what it’s like in a way that you could never know.

4) I’ve also had a math teacher, and he was great! One of those teachers that just make sense and that actually really care about their students and them understanding things rather than learning them like vocab cards. He was the only math teacher who I’ve ever felt comfortable with enough to confess that measurements can be tricky on some days. Does it say “cm”, “dm”, “km” or even just “m” there? Is it “L”, “cL” or “dL”? “g” or “kg”? He was really nice about it and we made a deal: In every class test I got the measurement would not change within one task. Helped a lot. And yet…

Students talk. They noticed. Because what my teacher had done, you see is adjust just my class test. I didn’t need to switch between measurements, the others did. and I see why that wasn’t considered fair. It really isn’t, because that doesn’t have much to do with reading or writing. Yet the issue at the bottom was still there. What I’m saying is that if you change a task so that a dyslexic person can work with it, don’t change it just for them. Especially not if the task itself changes then. Dear teachers, if you’re reading this, do it for everyone or not at all. Yes it helps if you do that, but no it isn’t fair if it’s just for one person. And I honestly still feel like I cheated after hearing what my classmates said.

5) Sometimes people will tell me that it’s impressive that I work against the dyslexia, you know, did the therapy and everything (even though many people just can’t afford it and would do it if they could). In that context a little sentence often fell that I just hate from the bottom of my heart: “If only everyone would do as much. It’s great that you don’t just rely on your diagnosis to take care of everything.”

First of all, I was lucky. I was lucky my health insurance covered not only one but two therapies. It didn’t for my brothers, my parents had to pay for that themselves. And that is not cheap! Not everyone can afford to do therapy. Not everyone has the chance to do therapy. That the therapy worked as well as it did was, again, luck. That my dyslexia was on the lighter side to begin with was also luck. That I knew I was at risk and got tested early on, so that I was diagnosed at an age where a real difference could be made through developmental psychology was also luck. Don’t ever make the mistake to think that one person who got lucky can be used as the bar.

Secondly, everyone’s dyslexia is different. You can’t compare mine to other people’s struggles. Again, my form of dyslexia isn’t that bad. Both my brothers have it worse. Sure, it might not be the easiest to deal with and it’s not the bare minimum for the diagnosis, but others have it worse than I do. And they have different symptoms. I can’t even deal with most of mine, they are just easy to conceal until I have a better day. We’re not all the same, so don’t compare us in a way that makes it look like we are.

Third, a lot was my own research. No one told me that there is a fond that was developed for dyslexic people to read easier (”OpenDyslexic”, if you are interested. It’s free to download). No one told me about all the side effects, no one told me “hey, this might actually be because of your dyslexia, too”. No one told me having subtitles on in a language I already spoke would help remembering the spelling of words. No one told me how to articulate things. I didn’t get an awful lot of help along the way, you know? Keep in mind, I come from an environment in which I got more help than on average. And you saying that is basically pushing the responsibility onto us. You made a world in which we have little to no access to help, and you’re shaming us for not finding any.

Last but everything but least, you make it sound like the treatment and the way we handle this is what makes the dyslexia valid. If you’re really thinking so, you’re wrong. Like, really wrong. I chose to work my ass off to teach my brain how to keep up. I managed to find information on it. I was lucky to get the possibility to do so, because of the way you are handling this. None of that makes my diagnosis valid. It doesn’t, because it already is. My struggles, my feelings about it, my experiences, my symptoms are what makes this valid. The diagnosis, dyslexia? That just gave it a name. 

6) “That might be hard for you to do. Are you sure you can handle this?” I’m glad that you are concerned on my behalf. But as someone who also has a lot of anxiety and has lived with this shit in my mind for my entire life, I can guarantee you that I do, in fact know my limits. I have lost many opportunities in my life because I wasn’t sure I could handle it, or because I couldn’t tell beforehand if I would have a “good day” or a “bad day”.

I’m aware of the risk. I decided to take the risk, or am in the process of decided whether or not to take that risk. You aren’t helping. If you are concerned, offer to help me should I struggle. If you can’t help me, offer support. If you can neither help nor support me, I don’t know you well enough for you to be meddling with my choices so you should just leave me alone.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for taking your time to read this. I hope this’ll help. And if you do make a dyslexic person uncomfortable or hurt them with something you say or do, please remember that that will happen, no matter what someone’s dealing with. Even my brothers will hurt me sometimes and I will hurt them sometimes, even though we are all dyslexic and have known each other for literally all our lives, because we all experience this differently. And that’s okay. You can’t always know what will hurt someone and it’s not you job to read their mind and figure it out on your own either. Important is that you recognize you’ve made a mistake and that you make a conscious effort to avoid said mistake in the future. And remember: Sometimes it’s not what you’re trying to say but rather how you’re saying it that hurts. Formulations can make a huge difference.

China & America

China: [After School] China: Where are you? China: You left your clothes on the bathroom floor and he's threatening to ✂ them up and she's just sitting there nodding America: ✂💳 after buying new 👌 China: Hilarious China: but you'd have to pry his wallet out his tight arse first and he's waving the ✂ about like right now America: 😐 America: terrorist negotiations are a no no China: Oh, believe me, if he knew you were on the 📞 he'd be straight on to shout at you himself America: if he wants me to walk around naked that's his damage America: she's guaranteed not sitting there 😶 when I do China: They're your best jeans China: you already don't have enough decent gear, you're seriously going to risk it? America: they'll be my best denim cut offs America: I don't come running for him China: Because it's not freezing 11 months and a half out of the year, Ricky China: I don't either but like fuck would I let him trash any of my stuff America: move us 🏝🧉 Gaz 👏 China: You want to fake as delusional as her? China: Fine, I'll be the only one living in reality, trying to talk some sense back into the woman and stopping him from ruining literally everything we've got America: back into? America: you've got jokes China: Please China: She was never this bad before China: or at least for this long, it'd be three weeks max of the lovesick bit and then she'd always come back and be mam again America: from your 🏰 that's the view China: There's nothing about this house that's castle like but he's definitely taken the only appeals it had away China: you miss having the parties and the hangs too America: they're still happening America: Gaz doesn't run the 🌏 America: can't roll out of 🛏 onto a dance floor but it's not 😢 China: But it was better when we could throw them China: and there was no rules around here, period China: You're just giving him reason to stay, the man's a raving lunatic, instead of saying no tah it's like his new cause to fix this family and save us both China: Must've been a fucking general in a past life America: there still aren't, his don't count America: & you're not giving him a reason to fucking go so 🤫 China: You say that but any time we have to be here China: and we do, at least some of the time, we can't do what we always did before and he's calling the shots China: I'm trying to figure out what the hell that would look like, what are you doing? America: watch me America: I'll throw a party right now China: Really China: Good luck with that China: Jesus, he'll lock you up, you know he will, if he doesn't do worse beforehand America: What's Daddy Garry gonna do? Hit me? America: They'd lock him up America: & his head'll 🤯 before mine does China: You don't remember some of the boyfriends she's had China: it's not funny, for fuck's sake China: I want my life back America: the trauma hasn't run deep enough to give me memory loss & you're not old enough to play that card America: it can be anything I want, it's my life America: I remember when we had live laugh love on the kitchen wall China: You know what? China: Let him rip up all your sketty clothes China: you're being selfish, why should I help you America: now the 👖 don't know whose side you're on America: they were THE BEST when you wanted me to come back China: I'm on the side of this family China: but you only care about yourself, apparently America: you're on your own side America: you care about having your life back, not what mine looks like China: I'm the one here arguing with him for your stuff right now China: and I just want things back how they were, for all of us China: him gone and her like an actual person with thoughts and emotions about anything that ain't what he wants America: you said yourself he won't leave if I act any kind of way America: he's crusading America: & I don't look old enough to get high enough to do a mam impression America: what do you fucking expect me to do, Chi? China: Help me work this out! China: Together China: you're still here, you don't get to wash your hands of it and ignore it like Zsa does because it doesn't really matter to her China: as long as he isn't hitting any of us and maybe even then, who the fuck knows with her America: don't ! at me America: if it were that simple, togetherness could get fucked China: It ain't, that's the whole problem and what no one else seems to grasp right now China: we act up, he's got more cause to stay and get progressively worse until we can't do anything and go anywhere China: we do what he wants and stay in line, he'll probably get such a boner he'll try to marry her and adopt us America: the audacity of me taking a 🚿 in my own home China: I know China: why is he not telling her to do more washing? America: be a controlling fuckwit but make it useful America: you could be wayyyyyyyy more productive with this, sir China: I'm not saying that's right either but it's all about how WE have no respect China: she's stopped doing anything that isn't doing her 💅💄👗 for him and we're meant to do it all, apparently America: Mam has respect for his 💪🍆🍑 China: 🤮 China: It goes without saying, but he's literally fuck ugly America: but I DEMAND it's said America: he needs to know on the regs China: He's got this one wrinkle on his forehead that's so deep I reckon it could hold a ✎ China: I hate him America: if you put your 💄 in there next time he's 😪💻 , I'll let you use a DIFFERENT ONE on me China: Alright China: I'll use one of hers America: would she end it if he had 0 hair? America: or eyebrows China: His hairline is dead and she acts like she don't notice China: It's like a spell, or something America: I know someone who'd come over for a face tattoo America: or 🍆🍑 if that's all she cares about China: You do not China: and he doesn't have enough of either to cover, shh America: I do TOO China: Who? America: Si is bored enough without your parties he bought a tattoo gun online China: Oh God China: do not do it he'll be so bad, never mind the hepatitis America: & he's dyslexic China: 😂 China: I can't wait to see what bullshit he decides to misspell on himself then America: [sends her some pics because imagine] China: He's so lame China: I can't believe Gary has wrecked my chance with Jake America: his da is a fuckwit too you'd think he'd be more understanding China: like I wanna tell him anything about this China: it's shaming enough we can't throw the parties no more and everyone knows why America: he's part of the everyone, he already knows China: doesn't mean I want to go and cry about it China: I've got some pride, thank you America: he should have some America: never throws a party at his own house China: That was one of the only things we had going for us America: weakkk America: you have things going for you, ask mam when she recovers from this illness China: Okay, the main thing China: but he's going to start going out with Lucie now instead, I know it America: Lucie's been out with half his friends before him America: not a ringing endorsement, like China: Yeah, she's a right slag, and she'll do it anywhere so she don't even need the free house America: get nan out of hers, she'd do it for the sake of your love life China: We have bigger problems China: sort that one and the rest will fall back into place, yeah America: biggest problem that we don't know how to sort it America: I'll get him to hurt me 🚨🚔 we're almost there China: That's not a solution China: and they won't do fuck all about it until it's serious China: too serious to control America: is if it works America: we know he wants to throw me out the window with the 👖 America: & maybe all the boys will think I'm into some hardcore bdsm shit China: Shut up you don't know anything about that America: 👌 Jake's vanilla that's a shame China: You're 12 and that's not the kind of reputation you want or are gonna have China: that's for girls like Lucie who have fuck all else to offer so they have to go hard with that degrading shit America: told you there was more on offer from us than a free house 😛 America: but stop walking into all my traps that easy China: You're such a dick 🙄😏 China: I didn't mean that was all but fucking hell, it was clearly a big draw China: so many people are airing me right now America: you know who doesn't care about parties? America: the people you air China: Who??? America: [a list which obvs includes Bobby and Libi on it and probably Beck as well] China: So you're just going to list every random loser in school for what? America: 😐 America: & you're gonna kid yourself that there's not at least 3 boys on there hotter than Jake America: get out of your fucking ⬛ China: it's not JUST about hot though, is it China: it's all the rest America: what else has Jake got? China: He's cool America: he's not cool enough to throw a party for you America: you're bored China: I am bored right now America: What's the point of Gaz if he doesn't take her anywhere anymore? America: why's she not bored? China: Yeah get this China: they're talking about redecorating America: what.the.fuck. China: I know China: it's looked like this our entire lives because she can't afford it China: now he thinks he can come in and whitewash everything America: remember when that one before offered to put up a roll of wallpaper and she looked at him like he said he wanted to beat you to death with it America: she'd let Gary kill us China: say goodbye to live laugh love China: it'll be RESPECT RESPECT RESPECT America: he needs to fuck off or I am China: Where to China: no one's got a sofa comfy enough or the desire to do any more than offer a night America: I know plenty of people I can get to desire me China: 🖕 China: not falling for it again so soon America: no 🕷🕸 America: they're not people I want, I didn't say that China: That's not a solution, again China: this is our house China: and our mam China: we need to sort it America: I know China: I can't think around them though China: I need to get out America: meet me [wherever the hell she is rn] China: Okay China: as I have nowhere else to be rn America: bring me a jacket China: assuming you've got one left after his tantrum China: that WILL be resumed, when you're relocated 🙄 America: if he's that desperate to text me China: He's that desperate to shout 'til he looks like a 🍅 America: 😋🤤 China: If you liked it or him at all, you'd be here America: I'm waiting here for you America: with ☕ China: I'm on my way America: I'll text Jake to be here & 🏃👌 China: You will not America: you wanna see him & you're not gonna hit send China: Because I have dignity, I don't know why that's a foreign concept to you China: and I don't even want to see him America: you do, you're losing it that he doesn't wanna see you China: Don't be dramatic on my behalf China: and getting my little sister to beg for me, that's hardly going to win anyone over America: I was gonna pretend to be you China: Ha! China: I'd love to see that, not America: party trick America: if we ever have one again China: If anyone wants to come by the time we've worked this out, it'll be a miracle America: it is getting 🥱 China: Seriously China: not getting aired for no reason America: you should listen to me about nan America: have one there China: The only person who would have a party at their nans house is Libi Foley America: it is mint there China: 🙄 America: it is China: Why? She got a trampoline? 👌 America: getting low if you're getting jealous America: [but whatever pics or vids we have from being there however many times we have like] China: I don't know what you reckon is cool in [whatever year they're in] these days America: her 🏠 America: some of her friends America: but I think I scared her off China: Well forget her China: She thinks she's something special but she's so not America: you're not describing her China: Sure China: If she's making you feel shitty she's hardly the 😇 everyone thinks she is America: how did you twist it to be her fault from what I said? America: 🤯 China: You aren't scary, she can't hang America: she didn't have you green lighting her on what cool is America: that's why I can China: She's super immature America: that shit must fly cos she's super well liked too China: With other people on your list, maybe America: you know she's got friends on friends, we don't have to downplay it America: it's not gonna make us feel a new way about any of the 💩 going on China: Literally why are we talking about her China: I've got so much more on my mind America: You brought her up to veto nan's house as a party place America: cos you don't want her to hate you too China: It isn't a party place, she's an old lady China: that would be so lame China: she doesn't have a boyfriend, where are we sending her? America: bingo America: use Zsa's flat then, she has a boyfriend, he's all she ever talks about China: Her tiny one bed China: I could have a few main people, potentially America: Princess and the pea isn't a sexy story America: if you're gonna kick it like that with Jake he will fuck Lucie in the PE block China: That's his prerogative if he wants to catch herpes America: everything doesn't have to be perfect America: you 🔊 like Gary China: If Asia is going to stop talking to me, it needs to at least be worth it America: you could trash the place and she'd think she did it 🔎 for her fake gucci belt China: 🙄 China: at least we don't have to worry about her man lasting America: ✂️💖 China: I don't know why they do it America: what are you doing with Jake? China: I'm not China: not like them America: I don't believe you China: Well first off, he's actually decent looking and cool China: and that's the difference China: Gary isn't, and whatshisname isn't either China: and I'm not throwing myself at him America: he isn't cool to me America: if it was so different you'd care about that China: How is he not? America: 🤡 China: What the hell does that mean? America: he thinks he's funny and he's not China: You don't have to think he is China: you're not interested and he's not interested in you China: that's a bit different to Gary fucking up our lives and taking over our mam America: he doesn't need to talk about me ever then China: I'm sure he won't...? America: 😐 China: He's not talking about either of us right now America: 🎊🎉 China: Happy for you America: I'd be happy for you if you used the Gary situation to get a boyfriend who's less of a dick China: Like who? China: [list boys from that list] China: LOL America: 🖕 America: [because we know the boy she likes is on that list honey] China: Who do you fancy then? America: dream on, shady bitch America: I'm not revealing my secrets now China: 😂 China: Omg go on China: I'll work it out America: if Gaz keeps treating me like a little girl without the choking, spitting in my mouth or giving me euros to spend, it's not gonna matter America: he'll think I'm immature China: You're such a dick China: but he's older then China: narrows it down America: as old as you, not as old as daddy Gary China: Well I can work out who it isn't then America: you've got other shit to prioritise China: You should get a boyfriend your own age America: I'm not getting one China: When you do, then America: when I do I won't be doing a poll of our year America: he's fun that's why I like him America: the 2 years aren't what's making me 🤤 China: What's fun mean America: he can hang China: I know who it is America: happy for you China: He's okay, I guess China: if you like that sort of thing America: what the hell does that mean? China: He's a bit China: but if you like him America: a bit? China: Annoying China: but you don't have to see him around school America: I thought you had a real concern! China: I'm not mam, we've still got one China: I just don't think he's cute but he's not like, the worst China: I don't know why he hangs around with who he does though, maybe he's weird America: Jake is who you think is cute & cool so 🤫 China: He's the hottest boy in my year China: who isn't like, the preppy sporty type America: & he acts like it America: talking down to everyone China: You're dramatic America: 😐 America: he is, behaving like 👑 China: You're acting like I'm married to him, for starters China: we were never even officially going out America: cos he wants to fuck around & find out who else is 🤤 China: He can do what he likes America: with Lucie & you won't care at.all. China: 🖕 America: me getting 🍆 could bring mam out of her coma China: If she finds out before Gary China: that might actually be a decent way to look into it China: 'cos clearly, 👑 has failed to save us all America: 👌 I'll do what I can China: all you have to do is heavily hint you are, in the 0.2 milliseconds he leaves her alone America: I'll stand on the 🚽 while she's 🛁 China: Take a piss test China: that should trigger the fear response America: they're expensive America: be going in Gaz's wallet again China: nah, you can get them for a euro in dealz China: market for the skanky slags like Lucie, duh America: I'll go after school tomorrow, he won't be leaving her alone tonight after ✂👖 China: Ew China: I'm definitely finding somewhere else to be America: seconded China: This is ridiculous China: Nan's going to get fed up of us crashing at hers America: that day came a month in China: but like, fed up to the point he'll talk her out of letting us because we should 'be at home' or whatever the fuck China: 🕠 running out America: What a flirty little game of 🐈 & 🐁 America: game on, Gaz China: 🙄 China: We've got no choice so, yeah America: Where are you gonna go? China: 🤷 China: I don't know America: come with me China: Where are you going? America: When you've got nowhere else, 3rd degree questioning's pointless China: Why is it hard to answer a question? America: I don't have an answer yet China: Right China: well, whatever then America: whatever yes or whatever no? China: So you need a dedicated answer, do you? China: You invited me, shouldn't make any difference if I do or don't come, as you've got no idea where you're going America: & you think my pretend babydaddy is annoying China: He very literally is China: if you wanna talk about thinking you're funny, Jesus America: he has a basis for it America: he's got jokes that aren't about what every girl at school looks like China: He's got adhd China: I think America: When he said he was on 💊s not what I thought he meant China: He must have it bad he's so twitchy still China: and he never shuts up China: which is probably why he's friends with the deaf kid America: I take it back, you and Jake are well suited 🤡 China: What? That's not a joke China: it just makes literal sense China: he's so loud America: You're being a dick China: Oh I am not China: it's not like I'm saying it to his face America: you know I like his face & you're saying it to me China: Well you know I like Jake and you're being a dick about him so in that case, we'd be even America: he can help having a shitty personality, that's not the same as an adhd diagnosis China: okay then China: an excuse to have prescribed speed America: what's your excuse for not calling the deaf kid by his name? China: Why does it matter? China: You knew who I meant America: it matters that you're back in your 🏰 China: 🙄 Shut up China: again, not talking to him, just you America: no shit, you don't talk to anyone outside of your ⬛ America: just me China: We're sisters so China: we have to talk, so sorry America: I know how to do a smoky eye & take a drink, that's your main criteria for what a cool girl is China: You wish America: it's not something I'm prioritising pre or post Gary America: you're stuck with me anyway China: And you're stuck with me China: at the minute, that's basically all we've got China: Zsa is literally not taking it in, no surprise there China: and nan is drinking the kool-aid on him now so America: I'll bring mam back with my 🤰 it'll be fine China: **fake 🤰 America: I assumed that was clear cos of having no real 🍆 inside of me before tomorrow America: Gary probably doesn't want to kiss & make up like that, I'm only 12 China: What do you mean tomorrow? America: assuming I do the test in front of her then China: Don't require you to actually do the deed, idiot China: s'all fake, we don't need you to go have a fake abortion, Jesus America: I'm just saying we don't need to waste time typing out a distinction like **fake when it's obvious China: Don't be a twat, I was just saying China: you're so bloody pedantic today, my God America: Don't be putting some kind of tempting fate 🤰 hex on me before I've even done anything with any boys China: Don't be a little slag and nothing will happen China: not going to be me or fate doing anything about it, you're in control America: right now Gary is America: 🚫🍆 China: It's about more than that America: I know China: You don't get it America: What don't I get? China: I've lost loads of friends China: maybe all of them America: you'll get them back the parties are America: when* China: yeah America: I'm fixing it China: **WE are America: did you save my 👖? China: Yea China: I put a load of washing on China: so now you're gonna owe me a thank you China: didn't know what else to do, he likes pitting us against each other I reckon America: I bought you ☕ ungrateful bitch China: UM, I meant you're going to owe me a grovelling thank you arselick because Gary says so China: I'm behaving and you're not, right now, cheeky cow China: anyway, I'm nearly there so don't fucking bin it America: I'll put washing on when my newborn is sleeping China: Fucking hell 😂 China: It's tragic, isn't it China: I can't think of anything more tragic China: poor mam China: poor nan America: how old do you have to be before they let you get sterilised? China: Oh, so old China: tell 'em you want to live off the state forever and have 14 of 'em and maybe they'll change their fucking mind America: Gary would do it for me if he was any fucking use China: If you ever really get pregnant, the botched abortion would do it America: I'll pitch the idea to my 1st boyfriend China: Good luck America: we're in the right place 🍀 China: Are we? China: Doesn't feel like it America: for a backstreet foetus killing scheme anyway China: Whatever brightside, I guess America: you sound as tired as I feel America: how early did he wake you? I think it was still fully dark out China: I swear, only solid he's done me China: loads of time to do a full hair and make-up routine America: What classes do you even have with Jake? Like 2 China: Oh, so now just 'cos I don't want to look like a bag of shit that's all about him too? China: Are you sure YOU aren't like them? China: Ugh America: you don't look like 💩 America: it's about him if you suddenly think you do China: I don't think that I just China: I'm not winning anyone back 'round if I do America: it's about the lack of parental supervision not your lack of split ends America: on every level you know that China: It is not China: that's a big part of it, but it is not all of it America: if it's not all of it where are they all? China: There's plenty of boys who care about pretty China: even if Jake isn't one of them China: if I have a desirable boyfriend, that's fucking something America: Jake does care about pretty, that's his main priority America: & why he's a dick to me China: You should've said China: you fancy him America: I'd fuck Gary before him, you delusional cow China: Ha, okay China: you're the one who's so hung up on how he treats you China: I'm so sorry he doesn't fancy you back but I'm actually not because you know I like him America: cos I want you to give a shit that your not boyfriend is like bullying me China: Wow, bullying now, really? America: you're asking for me to throw this ☕ at you China: I won't even come if you're going to be this China: melodramatic China: what do you mean bullying you? America: I mean every party you've thrown he's said something unnecessary to me China: Can you be more specific or America: can you not take my fucking word for it? China: Well not really China: like, if he's just made some passing comments it's not really bullying, is it America: 😐 America: 👌 make excuses for him & keep telling me you're doing things different China: For God's sake China: since when are you so sensitive? America: I've kept my mouth shut until literally now China: As you said, literally, he's joking America: I'm tired & I've typed the name Jake more times than I've ever wanted to China: You can't just accuse people of shit they haven't done China: if it was that simple, we'd say Gary was touching us and ta-da, problem solved America: I'll go down that route if the 🤰 fails China: It's not a fucking joke China: fuck this America: it is if you think I'm living like this for the next 6 years minimum China: You think 4 makes it any more palatable? America: telling a lie to get rid of him is the least of what I'm prepared to do China: I can't think straight right now China: save your ☕ I'm gonna go somewhere else America: Chi China: It's fine America: you're basically here China: I'm going China: I've got plans now America: you do not China: I do now America: with who? China: None of your business America: with who China: Who do you think China: happy now? America: what.the.fuck. China: Leave it alone America: Have you been talking to him all along? China: No, actually China: though I'm sure you won't believe me America: can't believe a word any of you say America: I hope he gives you herpes China: Nice America: You're not, why should I? China: You started this China: and for your information, I've never slept with him, or anyone else America: I did NOT China: then you got in my head America: not on purpose China: I've got my own life America: that wasn't in question China: I don't need your pity America: I don't feel sorry for you China: Good America: I'm fine too, thanks for asking China: You've got friends, who don't just use you for parties China: as you've been so keen to rub in America: & you're calling me over sensitive China: Joke all you lie China: k* America: you think Jake's are better China: Yeah, I do America: 👌🍆😗 China: Jealous much America: LOL China: Enjoy pining after Tweak America: 🖕 China: Enjoy your evening, that's my plan America: talk yourself into it harder America: maybe you will China: 👌🍆😗 America: 🤮🤮🤮 China: I'm not faking a pregnancy America: Lucie's not fake swallowing China: Ugly girls have more to prove America: you 🔊 like Jake America: he'll be excited as hell China: yeah he will America: 🎊🎉 he can stop trying to suck his own dick 🥳 China: you're just a kid China: let me know where you end up, Zsa's or nan's China: and I'll take the other 👌 America: you can take either cos I'm doing neither China: You know what, fine China: I shouldn't be the one doing this America: What this do you mean? Whoring yourself out to Jake or pretending you care what I'm going to do China: Looking after you China: are any of them in your messages? doubt it China: he's got no right and he goes too far but at least he'll be giving a shit where you are America: I don't need tabs kept on me, I'm going to MJ's not to 🍆 or 💊💉 China: 👍 America: I had a feeling Gaz wouldn't be stepping up to make 🍝 China: I can thank him for the diet too America: he'll be thrilled to hear about the 🍆😗 part of it China: I'm not planning to regale him with it China: 'cos not tempting an assault tah America: Mam & Zsa will have more useful tips China: I don't need them China: thank God America: just Jake telling you what he likes 💖 China: Piss off America: 🏰👑💖 China: Yeah, really feel it America: he'll make you feel really good about yourself China: What would you know about it, Ricky? America: it's what you want him for, I know that China: Why wouldn't I want that? China: Just because you've not had it ever America: Why can't you get it from someone else? China: Because I like Jake China: end of America: 😐 China: and every girl but you does too America: [lists all the girls that don't aka the lesbians, other girls he has shaded and girls like libi who are shamelessly in love with someone else/have boyfriends they care about even a little bit] China: 🙄🙄 China: You've got too much time on your hands China: not going to list every girl that does China: you know who I meant and that it's true America: I just spent a decade I won't get back waiting for you China: I wasn't about to come to MJ's and beg for food with you so America: I didn't invite you there, it's where I'm going now since you're on a Jake's jizz diet China: Don't be gross America: It's you who likes him 🤢 China: It's you who keeps talking about his dick China: like, stop America: I'm desensitising you America: so you can bear to look at & touch it China: I don't need that America: then this is me 🤫 China: 👍 China: Thanks China: Guess I'll see you in school tomorrow, or just before, pretending we've been 🛏 or purposely showing we're just coming in China: who knows what will be more effective in the AM America: you do one, I'll try the other China: Yeah China: know which one you'd prefer China: I'm not playing nice so you don't have to, like I always have America: you weren't playing when it was just you & mammy America: neither was I China: She was fun China: before America: I know China: What's not to like America: as her favourite, you would say that China: 🙄 America: & it doesn't matter who she was America: she's a zombie now China: we'll get her back America: What's the cure for swallowing Gary's bodily fluids? China: She's had worse China: equally as bad America: built up immunity China: There's no immunity to shitty men America: as you've proven China: pot kettle America: I don't like Jake, you're deluded China: I wasn't talking about him, moron America: 🖕 China: No, he seems like SUCH a cool, chill guy America: you'd be a shady bitch whatever you think he's like cos you're mad I don't wanna hop on Jake's 🍆 China: Yeah, SO mad China: you're twisted China: and delusional if you think it'd be any kind of competition America: you admitted you want me to be jealous & that his appeal is everyone likes him so yeah America: your priorities are twisted China: When did I? America: read any of this chat back China: 👍 Good one China: I really don't care what you think China: your taste is clearly trash America: I'd follow your ☕ into the bin but it'll make me late for 🍝 China: 😱 China: Can't have that China: I'm waiting for my bus, talk later America: 👋

Love

By Anton Chekhov

Translated by Constance Garnett

“THREE o’clock in the morning. The soft April night is looking in at my windows and caressingly winking at me with its stars. I can’t sleep, I am so happy!

“My whole being from head to heels is bursting with a strange, incomprehensible feeling. I can’t analyse it just now -- I haven’t the time, I’m too lazy, and there -- hang analysis! Why, is a man likely to interpret his sensations when he is flying head foremost from a belfry, or has just learned that he has won two hundred thousand? Is he in a state to do it?”

This was more or less how I began my love-letter to Sasha, a girl of nineteen with whom I had fallen in love. I began it five times, and as often tore up the sheets, scratched out whole pages, and copied it all over again. I spent as long over the letter as if it had been a novel I had to write to order. And it was not because I tried to make it longer, more elaborate, and more fervent, but because I wanted endlessly to prolong the process of this writing, when one sits in the stillness of one’s study and communes with one’s own day-dreams while the spring night looks in at one’s window. Between the lines I saw a beloved image, and it seemed to me that there were, sitting at the same table writing with me, spirits as naïvely happy, as foolish, and as blissfully smiling as I. I wrote continually, looking at my hand, which still ached deliciously where hers had lately pressed it, and if I turned my eyes away I had a vision of the green trellis of the little gate. Through that trellis Sasha gazed at me after I had said goodbye to her. When I was saying good-bye to Sasha I was thinking of nothing and was simply admiring her figure as every decent man admires a pretty woman; when I saw through the trellis two big eyes, I suddenly, as though by inspiration, knew that I was in love, that it was all settled between us, and fully decided already, that I had nothing left to do but to carry out certain formalities.

It is a great delight also to seal up a love-letter, and, slowly putting on one’s hat and coat, to go softly out of the house and to carry the treasure to the post. There are no stars in the sky now: in their place there is a long whitish streak in the east, broken here and there by clouds above the roofs of the dingy houses; from that streak the whole sky is flooded with pale light. The town is asleep, but already the water-carts have come out, and somewhere in a far-away factory a whistle sounds to wake up the workpeople. Beside the postbox, slightly moist with dew, you are sure to see the clumsy figure of a house porter, wearing a bell-shaped sheepskin and carrying a stick. He is in a condition akin to catalepsy: he is not asleep or awake, but something between.

If the boxes knew how often people resort to them for the decision of their fate, they would not have such a humble air. I, anyway, almost kissed my postbox, and as I gazed at it I reflected that the post is the greatest of blessings.

I beg anyone who has ever been in love to remember how one usually hurries home after dropping the letter in the box, rapidly gets into bed and pulls up the quilt in the full conviction that as soon as one wakes up in the morning one will be overwhelmed with memories of the previous day and look with rapture at the window, where the daylight will be eagerly making its way through the folds of the curtain.

Well, to facts.... Next morning at midday, Sasha’s maid brought me the following answer: “I am delited be sure to come to us to day please I shall expect you. Your S.”

Not a single comma. This lack of punctuation, and the misspelling of the word “delighted,” the whole letter, and even the long, narrow envelope in which it was put filled my heart with tenderness. In the sprawling but diffident handwriting I recognised Sasha’s walk, her way of raising her eyebrows when she laughed, the movement of her lips.... But the contents of the letter did not satisfy me. In the first place, poetical letters are not answered in that way, and in the second, why should I go to Sasha’s house to wait till it should occur to her stout mamma, her brothers, and poor relations to leave us alone together? It would never enter their heads, and nothing is more hateful than to have to restrain one’s raptures simply because of the intrusion of some animate trumpery in the shape of a half-deaf old woman or little girl pestering one with questions. I sent an answer by the maid asking Sasha to select some park or boulevard for a rendezvous. My suggestion was readily accepted. I had struck the right chord, as the saying is.

Between four and five o’clock in the afternoon I made my way to the furthest and most overgrown part of the park. There was not a soul in the park, and the tryst might have taken place somewhere nearer in one of the avenues or arbours, but women don’t like doing it by halves in romantic affairs; in for a penny, in for a pound -- if you are in for a tryst, let it be in the furthest and most impenetrable thicket, where one runs the risk of stumbling upon some rough or drunken man. When I went up to Sasha she was standing with her back to me, and in that back I could read a devilish lot of mystery. It seemed as though that back and the nape of her neck, and the black spots on her dress were saying: Hush!... The girl was wearing a simple cotton dress over which she had thrown a light cape. To add to the air of mysterious secrecy, her face was covered with a white veil. Not to spoil the effect, I had to approach on tiptoe and speak in a half whisper.

From what I remember now, I was not so much the essential point of the rendezvous as a detail of it. Sasha was not so much absorbed in the interview itself as in its romantic mysteriousness, my kisses, the silence of the gloomy trees, my vows.... There was not a minute in which she forgot herself, was overcome, or let the mysterious expression drop from her face, and really if there had been any Ivan Sidoritch or Sidor Ivanitch in my place she would have felt just as happy. How is one to make out in such circumstances whether one is loved or not? Whether the love is “the real thing” or not?

From the park I took Sasha home with me. The presence of the beloved woman in one’s bachelor quarters affects one like wine and music. Usually one begins to speak of the future, and the confidence and self-reliance with which one does so is beyond bounds. You make plans and projects, talk fervently of the rank of general though you have not yet reached the rank of a lieutenant, and altogether you fire off such high-flown nonsense that your listener must have a great deal of love and ignorance of life to assent to it. Fortunately for men, women in love are always blinded by their feelings and never know anything of life. Far from not assenting, they actually turn pale with holy awe, are full of reverence and hang greedily on the maniac’s words. Sasha listened to me with attention, but I soon detected an absent-minded expression on her face, she did not understand me. The future of which I talked interested her only in its external aspect and I was wasting time in displaying my plans and projects before her. She was keenly interested in knowing which would be her room, what paper she would have in the room, why I had an upright piano instead of a grand piano, and so on. She examined carefully all the little things on my table, looked at the photographs, sniffed at the bottles, peeled the old stamps off the envelopes, saying she wanted them for something.

“Please collect old stamps for me!” she said, making a grave face. “Please do.”

Then she found a nut in the window, noisily cracked it and ate it.

“Why don’t you stick little labels on the backs of your books?” she asked, taking a look at the bookcase.

“What for?”

“Oh, so that each book should have its number. And where am I to put my books? I’ve got books too, you know.”

“What books have you got?” I asked.

Sasha raised her eyebrows, thought a moment and said:

“All sorts.”

And if it had entered my head to ask her what thoughts, what convictions, what aims she had, she would no doubt have raised her eyebrows, thought a minute, and have said in the same way: “All sorts.”

Later I saw Sasha home and left her house regularly, officially engaged, and was so reckoned till our wedding. If the reader will allow me to judge merely from my personal experience, I maintain that to be engaged is very dreary, far more so than to be a husband or nothing at all. An engaged man is neither one thing nor the other, he has left one side of the river and not reached the other, he is not married and yet he can’t be said to be a bachelor, but is in something not unlike the condition of the porter whom I have mentioned above.

Every day as soon as I had a free moment I hastened to my fiancée. As I went I usually bore within me a multitude of hopes, desires, intentions, suggestions, phrases. I always fancied that as soon as the maid opened the door I should, from feeling oppressed and stifled, plunge at once up to my neck into a sea of refreshing happiness. But it always turned out otherwise in fact. Every time I went to see my fiancée I found all her family and other members of the household busy over the silly trousseau. (And by the way, they were hard at work sewing for two months and then they had less than a hundred roubles’ worth of things). There was a smell of irons, candle grease and fumes. Bugles scrunched under one’s feet. The two most important rooms were piled up with billows of linen, calico, and muslin and from among the billows peeped out Sasha’s little head with a thread between her teeth. All the sewing party welcomed me with cries of delight but at once led me off into the dining-room where I could not hinder them nor see what only husbands are permitted to behold. In spite of my feelings, I had to sit in the dining-room and converse with Pimenovna, one of the poor relations. Sasha, looking worried and excited, kept running by me with a thimble, a skein of wool or some other boring object.

“Wait, wait, I shan’t be a minute,” she would say when I raised imploring eyes to her. “Only fancy that wretch Stepanida has spoilt the bodice of the barège dress!”

And after waiting in vain for this grace, I lost my temper, went out of the house and walked about the streets in the company of the new cane I had bought. Or I would want to go for a walk or a drive with my fiancée, would go round and find her already standing in the hall with her mother, dressed to go out and playing with her parasol.

“Oh, we are going to the Arcade,” she would say. “We have got to buy some more cashmere and change the hat.”

My outing is knocked on the head. I join the ladies and go with them to the Arcade. It is revoltingly dull to listen to women shopping, haggling and trying to outdo the sharp shopman. I felt ashamed when Sasha, after turning over masses of material and knocking down the prices to a minimum, walked out of the shop without buying anything, or else told the shopman to cut her some half rouble’s worth.

When they came out of the shop, Sasha and her mamma with scared and worried faces would discuss at length having made a mistake, having bought the wrong thing, the flowers in the chintz being too dark, and so on.

Yes, it is a bore to be engaged! I’m glad it’s over.

Now I am married. It is evening. I am sitting in my study reading. Behind me on the sofa Sasha is sitting munching something noisily. I want a glass of beer.

“Sasha, look for the corkscrew. . . .” I say. “It’s lying about somewhere.”

Sasha leaps up, rummages in a disorderly way among two or three heaps of papers, drops the matches, and without finding the corkscrew, sits down in silence.... Five minutes pass -- ten. . . I begin to be fretted both by thirst and vexation.

“Sasha, do look for the corkscrew,” I say.

Sasha leaps up again and rummages among the papers near me. Her munching and rustling of the papers affects me like the sound of sharpening knives against each other.... I get up and begin looking for the corkscrew myself. At last it is found and the beer is uncorked. Sasha remains by the table and begins telling me something at great length.

“You’d better read something, Sasha,” I say.

She takes up a book, sits down facing me and begins moving her lips.... I look at her little forehead, moving lips, and sink into thought.

“She is getting on for twenty. . . .” I reflect. “If one takes a boy of the educated class and of that age and compares them, what a difference! The boy would have knowledge and convictions and some intelligence.”

But I forgive that difference just as the low forehead and moving lips are forgiven. I remember in my old Lovelace days I have cast off women for a stain on their stockings, or for one foolish word, or for not cleaning their teeth, and now I forgive everything: the munching, the muddling about after the corkscrew, the slovenliness, the long talking about nothing that matters; I forgive it all almost unconsciously, with no effort of will, as though Sasha’s mistakes were my mistakes, and many things which would have made me wince in old days move me to tenderness and even rapture. The explanation of this forgiveness of everything lies in my love for Sasha, but what is the explanation of the love itself, I really don’t know.

NOTES

Lovelace: Richard Lovelace (1618-1658) was an English poet