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storybycorey · 5 years ago

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The Fox Mulder Phonetic Alphabet

(Full Version, A-Z)

author: @storybycorey

rating: R

word count: approx. 8000

summary: The ABC’s, as told by Fox Mulder.

For those of you looking only for part Z, just scroll a bit more than halfway down! (or take a read back through the whole thing- there are references back to the first 25 letters in the final installment!)

A is for Apple

She brings her lunch from home most days. Well-balanced, just as he’d expect— portions of protein, fruit, and grains—while he grazes a bit less elegantly on a plethora of offerings from the upstairs vending machine.

She packs an apple once, eats it right in front of him. Red and juicy, but not nearly as red and juicy as her lips, or at least the way he’s imagined her lips to be after nearly seven years of imagining such things. He wonders whether, if he ever works up the nerve to kiss her, he’ll taste her on his mouth afterwards, the way you taste an apple—tart and sweet and lingering there.

He realizes he’s staring, goes quickly back to his bag of Funyuns (Onions, Scully! They’re vegetables!). Later, when she throws her apple core in the trash, he feels a sudden urge to retrieve it, as a reminder of things he wants but probably doesn’t deserve to have.

B is for Basketball

She beats him at basketball one day. Unbelievably. Finds him in the gym one evening after an endless day of seminars. She knows how to find him the way a dog finds its bone—even when he’s buried, even when he’s mangled and chewed-upon and disgusting. On this day though, he’s none of those things; instead he’s just plain bored.

In her black suit and heels, she stands out like a sharp smear of ink, poignantly distinct amidst the wooden floors and the bleachers. He doesn’t expect a response to his hey Scullz, wanna go one-on-one?, but she lifts her eyebrow in challenge and slips off her blazer. The tank top hidden beneath is tight and it’s blue (and made of a soft, shiny material his fingers ache to touch).

He could say he lets her win, but honestly, imagining that mystery material sandwiched between his palm and her skin leaves him much too distracted to pay attention to the game.

C is for Candles

He’ll forever associate candle-light with her pale and trembling back. With a maroon satin robe and hair that curls up sweetly in the rain (she’d never allow that now).

Before that night, the only candles he owned were a melted-down cluster from some birthday or another, remnants of a relationship he’d rather forget. He owns an assortment now though, scented and not, but all at the ready should the opportunity arise. His greatest want is to see the rest of her body lit by that warm, amber glow, to trail his fingertips across more than just her back, to chase the soft shadows around her curves as her breath hitches with desire.

He and the candles are prepared; they’ve been prepared for seven years now. She and her curves and her shadows? He thinks they're getting there. He hopes anyway.

D is for Dana

Her first name is a secretive, foreign thing to him these days. Scully is Scully—strong, competent, loyal. But Dana is an enigma. He catches glimpses of Dana sometimes—a woman, a girl—and he wonders whether she’s fighting to break free. It saddens him to think he may have stolen that girlish part away from her, filed her inside a metal cabinet down in a basement office like everything else that crosses his path.

Sometimes he whispers it and it gives him a small thrill, like there’s a hidden part of her he has yet to know. He imagines saying it intimately, with his mouth pressed to her ear, but can’t decide whether it feels terribly wrong or perfectly, undeniably right. He only know that his lips are ready, should he ever earn the chance to try.

E is for Earrings

He almost buys her earrings once. Foolish, really. But while waiting for a watch battery to be replaced, he can’t help but browse. The sapphires would match her eyes so stunningly. Has he ever seen her in anything but small diamond studs or pearls? Anything but a business suit or hotel room pajamas? He wonders whether she likes dressing up, whether she stands before her mirror and admires herself, deciding between this evening gown or that one, holding earrings up next to her cheek.

He stands at the counter and looks at the earrings for ten minutes, picturing the delicate arc of her neck and the auburn of her hair and those earrings sparkling between. He’d be lying if he doesn’t also admit to imagining his tongue tracing around them and his teeth scraping against them and the moan he’s sure would slip from her throat while he plays.

A pushy saleswoman interrupts his thoughts, asks “For your wife? Girlfriend?”

He shakes his head, “Neither.”

He leaves with a hard-on and a working watch, but the earrings stay behind for someone with a little more courage.

F is for Friends

They use the term friends sometimes. Usually it’s partners, occasionally colleagues, coworkers, but really, none of those words does their relationship the slightest bit of justice. He couldn’t define it to a stranger (should one ask) if he tried. Hell, he can’t even define it to himself.

How do you define someone so ingrained in your bones, you taste marrow at the back of your throat each time she walks away? Webster would be hard-pressed to condense that into a single word, he’s sure. Even best friend feels trite and inadequate where Scully’s concerned. She’s not just a friend, not just a partner, not just a lover (even in his most daring of fantasies)—she’s not just anything.

She’s Scully, and she’s everything.

G is for Globe

He used to play a game with Samantha. Spin the Globe it was called. They played it when their parents were fighting, when they wanted nothing more than to be far, far away. He tells Scully about it once, when he can tell she can’t get out of her head. Luckily, amidst the files and slides and mess of the office, he happens to have a globe.

“Spin it, Scully. Close your eyes and point, and I’ll take you on an adventure wherever your finger lands.”

She rolls her eyes, but plays along, extending her French-tipped fingernail to land upon the spinning globe. Antarctica.

“Spin again,” he murmurs quickly, “That one didn’t count,” but she stops him with a hand curled around his like a comma.

“You found me, Mulder. That was more extraordinary than any adventure.”

H is for Hands

Once on a stakeout, he holds her hand.

Hours in a darkened car breed strange and wonderful things sometimes—discussions and games that only boredom can inspire. He tells her he can read palms (he’s lying, of course, but at least it’s something to do), and she scoffs, but then surprisingly offers her hand. It’s really too dark to see, but he tickles her palm and bullshits his way through, blathering about wealth and fate until her giggle makes his heart stand still.

“According to your palm…,” he says softly, “…true love awaits…as soon as you’re ready.”

She’s silent at first, and he worries he’s ruined things— ruined seven years’ worth of things in the span of a minute.

But then, in a quiet voice he’s never heard before, she responds, “I’ll be ready… soon.”

He holds her hand until their shift is over.

I is for Ice Cream

Her favorite ice cream flavor is Mint Chocolate Chip. He knows this (even though she doesn’t know he knows this), and once, during a rough case, he brings her some. He sneaks from his room after dinner, stops at three different gas stations before finding his prize. Sylvia’s Sundries and Smokes perhaps wouldn’t have been his first choice of establishments, but beggars can’t be choosers where ice cream’s concerned.

Surprise in hand, he knocks on Scully’s door and, with flourish, whips two plastic spoons from his pocket. The nice thing about it? She doesn’t even pretend not to want it. She smiles a shy little smile and invites him in. They climb up onto her bed where they scoop big whopping spoonfuls right out of the tub. She’s full after only a few bites but sits with him while he finishes, lays her head on his shoulder. They watch the Late Late Show until it’s late late late, until it isn’t even the same day anymore.

J is for Jacket

Her suit jackets (he supposes they’re probably technically called blazers) have shrunk over the years. Dana Scully of the plaid and boxy, of the oversized shoulder-pads, is now Dana Scully of the sleek and fitted, of the black and stylish and sexy. He finds himself tugging his collar from his overheated neck sometimes. More than sometimes.

He wonders when things changed, because he can’t quite place a pin on it, when she went from a woman he loves to a woman he lusts after as well. Or maybe it’s unclear because he’s always done a little of both where Scully’s concerned.

She left a jacket (blazer, whatever) at his apartment last year and he keeps forgetting to tell her he found it. It hangs now in his closet next to pairs of pressed dress slacks. He catches a glimpse of it sometimes, stands there wondering how soon ‘soon’ will come.

K is for Kiss

Back in the 60s, the 70s, when the turn of the millennium seemed ridiculously far away, Fox Mulder fantasized about the future. His comic books predicted: In the year 2000, there will be flying cars, teleportation devices, vacations on the moon and Mars...

He imagined the party awaiting him on New Year’s Eve, complete with robot wait staff and space-age hors d’oeuvres. Never would he have guessed he’d actually spend the evening in a hospital corridor, arm in a sling, nary a party nor robot in sight.

They were wrong about more than just the robots though, dead wrong, because not a single one of those comic books predicted this: In the year 2000, there will be Dana Scully and her flame-red hair, Dana Scully and her skeptical sighs, Dana Scully and the world not ending while she presses her lips to his for the very first time.

To think that at one time he wanted robots and jetpacks. It’s laughable really, to have ever wanted anything on this earth (or on the moon, or on Mars) but Dana Katherine Scully.

L is for Lists

He arrives earlier than usual one morning, finds Scully’s open notebook lying flat on the desk. The beginnings of a list, he’s sure. Scully loves lists. Books to Read, Articles to Write, Times Mulder Has Driven Me Crazy… He hasn’t physically seen that last one, but he’s sure it exists, somewhere in her purse or briefcase, or maybe just hidden away in her head.

A quick glance confirms his suspicions. Personal Goals.

He’s taken aback; he’d expected something trivial. Pros and Cons of Sunflower Seeds perhaps, but this…

He stalls, waits a minute, maybe two, but in the end is much too intrigued not to peek.

1. Call Mom more often

2. Reach out to Bill

3. Volunteer at the church

They’re all so wonderfully Scully. He’s not sure what else he expected. Curiosity satisfied, he’s about to turn away when:

15. Stop being afraid of my feelings

and below that:

16. Mulder

He stands stunned. He’s joked about appearing on Scully’s lists, but never like this, never as #16, never as a personal goal.

He makes a list himself that night, condenses every one of his own goals down into just six letters.

1. Scully

2. Scully

3. Scully…

372. Scully…

1049. Scully…

He types her name until dawn has broken, until the printed ‘S’ has all but disappeared off his keyboard.

M is for Maybe

Maybe tomorrow’s the day. He’ll toss her an innuendo, and instead of just catching it, she’ll throw one back herself.

The sun’ll come out tomorrow, isn’t that how the song goes? Good things happen in the darkness, too, though—cemetery downpours, X-marked stretches of highway where her hair grows wavy from the rain. He and Scully manage just fine with no sun at all; they thrive in the darkness, no matter what the song says.

He packs up his things on a Friday afternoon, grabs his coat and offers his usual weekend farewell. But instead of Have a nice weekend, Mulder, she stops him, hand to his forearm, “It’s supposed to be beautiful tomorrow… Do you wanna… Maybe...”

Her cheeks are pink as she ducks her chin to her chest, and it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“Yeah,” he interrupts quickly, “Yeah, I do.” He’s a bit too enthusiastic probably, but maybe tomorrows don’t actually happen that often for him on Friday afternoons.

She smiles, cheeks still flushed, “Okay, then. Tomorrow...”

On his way out the door he finds himself humming. Maybe the forecast for tomorrow is sunny after all, and not just because a little orphan girl told him so.

N is for No

He's scared of the word no, its finality. No, Mulder, it would never work. No, Mulder, we’re better as friends. No, Mulder, I don’t love… The word no could mean the end of everything. Of all he's seen, how absurd that two small letters could paralyze him like that.

He walks through Violent Crimes once, overhears Scully talking to another agent from across the room. Rick Channing could be a television news anchor—hair coiffed and teeth so white they sparkle.

Mulder rolls his eyes. Scully doesn’t roll her eyes though; instead, she smiles as they talk. She giggles. Bile rises in his throat.

No, Mulder, I’ve fallen for someone else…

He should leave, but Channing’s next words stop him cold. “How about drinks, Dana? Maybe dinner?”

She blushes, flustered, before scanning the room, eyes finding Mulder’s despite the way he hides halfway behind a partition.

“Thank you, Rick, but no. I’m already…” She smiles gently at him—him Mulder, not him Rick— “No,” she says again, then excuses herself down the hall.

He stands there, rooted in place, decides no is the most beautiful word he’s ever heard.

O is for Opal

His birthstone is opal. Not that he’d ever have cared, but one Christmas, he and Samantha received birthstone gifts—a topaz necklace for Sam and an opal-inlaid pocketknife for him. He still has that pocketknife, has rubbed his thumb across the smooth, cool handle countless times over the years.

Scully’s skin reminds him of that handle—the soft blue of her veins beneath translucent pink skin. She glows. He knows she’d scoff if he told her that, tell him human beings can’t glow, don’t be ridiculous. But she does—she glows just like an opal.

The pearly finish of his pocketknife is worn-down and soft by now, but her skin, he knows, is infinitely softer. Her hand, her cheek—the safe parts of her body he’s been allowed to touch—they don’t even compare to the decades-old trinket. He can’t imagine how much softer the more dangerous parts of her body must be. The thought keeps him up at night, much more consistently than his nightmares do.

P is for Plum

Scully goes on kicks sometimes—bee pollen, yogurt, one month she sprinkled wheat germ into everything she got her hands on, his coffee included.

Fresh fruit is her latest. Oranges, nectarines, plums, oh, plums. There’s no neat way to eat a plum, though she tries, napkin laid out beneath her at the desk. The juice though. Drippy and sticky on her chin—his eyes try their best not to ogle, but usually fail.

She walks around sometimes, cupping a hand to catch the drips, and once, as she reaches across his body for a book, a drop splashes directly onto his forearm.

“Sorry!” she exclaims, quickly swiping at his skin with her thumb. How that same thumb winds up being sucked between his lips is a mystery, though probably has something to do with the way he acts sometimes before thinking. His tongue traces the sweetened ridges of her thumbprint as she chokes out a gasp, half-eaten plum forgotten.

“No takebacks, Scully,” he mumbles as a joke, trying to laugh it off as he comes to his senses and releases her. Her cheeks stay pink for a good twenty minutes after that, and parts of him stay hard for an even better twenty beyond that.

Q is for Quest

This job of theirs, it’s more than a job. More than a career path. It’s a downright quest.

He feels a bit like Don Quixote at times, Scully his faithful Sancho Panza, the two of them out there dreaming the impossible dream, fighting the unbeatable foe. There’s a sort of nobility to what they do, and he likes that.

Sometimes though, he wonders whether the aliens are really windmills, whether the consortium is nothing but a barber’s basin balanced on his much too gullible head. Whether Scully is not Sancho, but Dulcinea— out-of-reach and much too beautiful for his files and his basement, his second-hand coffee table and his worn leather couch.

He sometimes can’t believe she’s still here, chasing windmills, slaying bad guys, at times even taking the time to clean out his fridge. She deserves the most elegant of thrones, yet sits happily beside him on that old leather couch, Monday nights, Tuesday nights, sometimes even weekends. It astounds him really.

And when she nudges his knee with her own, smiles at him with that smile that makes him think soon isn’t so far away, that’s when he really believes—that being with her is not such an impossible dream after all.

R is for Rebel

Dana Scully is a rebel. She tries to hide it, acts all prim and proper, but beneath her stern, pursed lips and buttoned-up suits, there’s a troublemaker lurking. It’s what endeared him to her on their very first case, the way she laughed with him in the rain, the way, regardless of her orders, she listened to him and formed her own opinion.

He sees glimpses of that rebel from time to time, when she scarfs down pizza in a Motel 6 despite her no-carb diet, when she gets that gleam in her eye as they sneak onto restricted government property.

His favorite bit of rebelliousness though is her new stance on hotel-room consorting. They’ve fallen into a routine lately, of watching movies together on polyester bedspreads, of dropping off before the credits roll, of pretending I’m too tired to go back to my room is a perfectly reasonable and acceptable excuse to stay.

Each time it happens, the morning sun finds them a bit closer together than the last— hands touching, next toes and shins, most recently her hair brushed his cheek as she snuggled against the pillow.

His rumpled, sleepy little rebel. She’s a rebel on her own terms though, he knows this. And he’s being as patient as he can be.

S is for Sexy

She’s sexy, unbelievably so. It took him a while to admit that to himself. For the longest time, he blamed his body’s reaction to her on their constant proximity, her perfume, the fact that he was suffering a longer-than-usual dry spell… But no, what it really comes down to is that Dana Katherine Scully is sexy as hell.

Even back in the beginning, when her suits hid her body and her hair did that swoop-y sort of thing up near the front. Even in the middle, when she was thinner than she should’ve been, when cancer stole her color but didn’t steal her soul. And then there’s today. Today when there’s no mistaking the black lace of her lingerie each time she leans across the desk, not two but three buttons undone at her clavicle. Today when she murmurs thoughtfully, “I think you may be right, Mulder,” tongue wetting her lips as she reads aloud from his book on mystical apparitions.

What really gets him though, is that despite her hair or her lips or even her lingerie, the sexiest part of her isn’t on the outside at all; it’s what lies beneath—that intangible something that makes her Scully. That’s the part he fell in love with, shoulder pads and all.

T is for Toes

She’s got cute little toes. She’s got cute little everything really, but her toes are especially cute, pale pink polish adorning each one. She sits one night, curled on his couch, those cute little toes just inches from his leg.

“Wanna stretch out?” he asks, patting his thighs, and amazingly, within seconds, there are two small feet lying warm in his lap.

He gives them a tickle, but she kicks at his hand. He tries again, this time pressing a thumb to her arch. No kick, only an appreciative hum. It’s all the encouragement he needs. He begins massaging in earnest.

Her eyes slip shut, her head tilts back, a low groan rumbles from her throat. He massages her cute little toes for an hour, counts each contented sigh that slips from her lips (thirty-four to be exact). The movie they’d been watching fades slowly to black, and she ends things finally, with a shy, quiet chuckle and an I should probably get going.

As she heads down the hall, he jokes from his doorway, “The masseuse is available every night, double sessions on weekends…”

She rewards him with an arched brow, murmuring, “Careful, I may just take you up on that…” before stepping onto the elevator.

U is for Umpteen

“Umpteen’s not a word, Mulder,” she tells him, eyes rolling, “It has no specified value.”

She’s got a point of course. They don’t have umpteen case summaries to submit; they have twelve. But umpteen is most definitely a word.

Umpteen’s how many times he’s forgotten his point because her lips are too distracting. Umpteen’s how many fantasies he’s had about sliding his hands through her hair. Umpteen’s how many times she’s walked out the door, how many times he’s kept from going after her, how many times he’s sat in his car beneath her window and longed for her with a ferocity that scares him shitless. Umpteen’s how many times he’s wanted to kiss her. It’s also how many times he hasn’t…

He chuckles, dipping his chin, “You’re right, Scully. We’ve got twelve summaries to do, not umpteen...”

Umpteen is how many times he’s said her name, it’s how many times what he’s really wanted to say was I love you.

V is for Volume

They fight over the volume control in cars. He likes louder, she likes softer (I can’t think over the noise she says). He usually lets her win.

Their relationship has its own volume control, he’s realized. There are times when it’s loud, blaring even, arguments at every turn. Other times it’s low—murmurs in a conference room, end of the day farewells in a darkened parking garage. Mostly it’s somewhere between. They talk and they banter and they discuss, in basements, in rental cars, in random police stations across America.

Sometimes though, lately especially, she lowers the dial even further, turns it all the way over to the left. Soft. The very softest. His name on her lips those rare times he holds her. Her blush and shy murmured stop when he pays her a compliment. The slight gasp he feels more than hears when his fingertips brush over her arm, her cheek, the curve of her hip.

It makes him want to do away with loud altogether, to turn off the music and the voices and the noise and listen only to the sound of her breathing, to tell her "It's quiet now, Scully. I’m ready when you are."

W is for Wristwatch

This job has done a number on his wardrobe. Jackets, slacks, shoes—all gone the way of the incinerator—either damaged beyond acceptable FBI standards or outright destroyed. Scully’s hasn’t fared much better (she still pouts over a favorite pair of heels ruined two years ago). All part of the territory, he reasons.

His shattered wristwatch on a recent case was a blow though; he loved that watch.

There’s a package on his desk the day after, wrapped so precisely, he needn’t even guess whom it’s from.

“Scully,” he protests, but she stops him.

“Just open it, Mulder.”

It’s a watch—of course it’s a watch—a beautiful one, silver links and a detailed, intricate face. “You didn’t need—” he begins, but she interrupts him again.

“It was my father’s,” she states matter-of-factly, but then her voice softens, “I’ve held onto it since… Here, let me.” She takes the watch, fastens it around his wrist. There are tears in her eyes.

“It looks good,” she whispers, “It brings out your… It looks nice—you’ve got nice forearms, Mulder, and this accentuates—”

He takes hold of her hand, gives it a squeeze until she meets his eyes. “Thank you,” he tells her, “I love it.”

There’s no way this watch lands in the incinerator. He’ll protect it with his life if he has to.

X is for XFiles

The basement office often feels more like home to him than home does. It’s his secret hideaway, and despite the odds, he thinks it’s become hers, too. They’ve created their own little world down here—a cozy, paranormal universe—and Scully’s as much a part of that universe as he is.

She shines like the sun, trails glittery stardust behind her like a comet. His beautiful, perplexing riddle of a partner. It’s funny really, but despite the hundreds of files that surround them, Scully remains his biggest mystery. She’s the very definition of an X-File. It floors him that she chooses this life, that she’s willing to be his sun, his moon, his whole damn galaxy, day after day after day.

There was a time he couldn’t have imagined not seeking the truth. These days though? These days he’s beginning to believe he’s been searching in all the wrong places.

The truth can’t be found in Bellefleur, Oregon or in Kroner, Kansas, in forests or in sewers or in fields. The truth—the real truth— exists in ink-blue eyes and rosebud lips, in the skeptical arch of an eyebrow and the soft, shy murmur of his name.

It exists right down here in the basement office, sitting not two feet across the desk from him.

Y is for Yawn

She yawns as he speaks, but it doesn’t bother him. Things feel sleepy—dreamy— tonight.

It’s been an odd few days apart from one another, he across the pond and she…He’s not even sure what she’s been doing, doesn’t know that he wants to. All he knows is that she’s here, now, pressed to his side and yawning, proving to him once again how fate works.

It’s hard not to babble when he feels this good; he’s drunk on the smell of her, on the heaviness of her thigh pressed to his.

“And that says a lot… a lot, a lot, a lot…” Babbling, more babbling, until he feels the smallest, sweetest weight at his shoulder, sees lashes splayed softly against warm, flushed cheeks. The perfection of the moment strikes him, of her here on his couch instead of in a hospital room, instead of in a temple, instead of anywhere else she could be at this point in her life.

He touches her hair—he can’t bear not to—covers her with a blanket to keep away the chill. Allowing himself one last glance, he counts slowly to ten (slowly, so slowly), before making his own sleepy way to the bedroom.

Z is for Zipper

He’s awoken by the sound of her skirt zipper, the dip of the mattress as she sits on the bed.

“Scully?” He’s not sure how long he’s been out, but the stillness in the air and a new moon slanting through the blinds suggest hours.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, “I tried not to wake you...” He’s never heard her voice in his bedroom this late at night. It’s softer than he’d imagined. Younger. “It’s late. I’m not sure I should drive. Do you mind if I—”

“Sure, yeah.” He props up on an elbow. “Do you want me to…” He motions toward the living room, still half-asleep but awake enough not to assume anything he shouldn’t. Hotel room sleepovers (which they’ve partaken in) are in a different category than apartment room sleepovers (which they haven’t), and he knows this.

“I don’t mind,” she answers in silhouette, slipping off her skirt, “…not if you don’t.” She’s stolen her way beneath the sheets before he has the presence of mind to offer her something to wear.

“Of course not.” He can’t think of anything he’d mind less than Scully lying beside him in his bed, near enough he can smell this morning’s perfume still on her skin.

She settles, and is so close, her breaths tickle his bare shoulder. Once, twice, three times. He shudders.

They’re quiet. He listens to her nighttime sounds—the swish of her hair against the pillow, the cadence of her breaths, the occasional wet slide of her tongue across her lips. He wishes he had his little recorder on the nightstand. He’d make a mixtape, label it Sounds of Scully and play it every night for the rest of his life.

He longs to touch her. A hand, a foot, even just the tip of a finger.

They lie there long enough and silently enough he thinks she may have fallen asleep, but then she shifts. Or he shifts. Or maybe they both shift, but out of nowhere her still sweater-clad back spoons perfectly against his chest.

A quiet gasp leaves her lips, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t readjust. Neither of them breathes.

“Is this… okay?” he asks finally.

“Yeah, it’s…” The heel of her foot brushes his shin. “It’s nice.”

Quiet again. His arm finds a place to rest wrapped around her waist. His thighs nudge her bottom. Her skirt is off, and possibly her nylons, too, but he thinks instead about her hair tickling his nose, her sweater against his belly. He doesn’t think of other things—won’t let himself.

It’s nice was an understatement though. It’s so much more than nice. He’s needed this, wanted this, for such a long time. Even if this is all it is—the two of them spooned together in his bed until morning.

She snuggles a bit closer, slips a small, cold foot between his legs. He thinks about her pale pink toenails, he thinks about Dulcinea, he thinks about being number sixteen on a list he’s sure he was never meant to read. He adds to his mixtape the sound of her hum when his thumb brushes the rose-petal skin of her arm.

“Foxtrot,” she murmurs sleepily.

“Hmmm?” He nudges the back of her head with his nose.

“Nothing,” she chuckles, “Just a passing thought...”

“Can’t have passing thoughts without sharing. Bedroom rules.” It’s strange how natural this feels, bantering with her in his bedroom, pretending this sort of thing happens often enough that rules have been made.

“Oh, in that case, maybe I’ll…” She makes to leave, pushing away covers and beginning to pull from his arms.

“Don’t you dare,” he threatens, tugging her back, wasting no time in snuggling her in even closer, wrapping himself around her like a question mark, which seems almost comically apropos on a night like this. She giggles, just barely, but it’s perfection, the sound of Scully giggling in his bed late at night.

“No, it was just…,” she continues, turned serious again. “My father was obsessed with the military phonetic alphabet—Alpha, Bravo, etcetera... He named my brother Charlie. It just occurred to me that if your father had been the same, maybe you’d be Foxtrot instead of Fox.”

He chuckles. “Guess I should count myself lucky then. Would’ve been a lot to live up to in the ballroom classes my mother made me take…” She hums in amusement, and the vibration travels all the way through to his chest. “Sounds like you’re a bit lucky, too. Unless I’m mistaken, it was Dana, not Delta, who snuck into my bed tonight...”

“Hmm,” she ponders, “Maybe Delta's not as brave as Dana is....” He sometimes thinks nobody’s as brave as Dana Scully is, least of all himself. “Frankly,” she adds, “I always fancied Juliet anyway.”

“Juliet—I like it.” He pictures her out on a balcony, cheeks flushed, eyes glowing, lover’s name tumbling from her lips. “You’d need a Romeo…” He doubts Wherefore art thou, Mulder is quite what Shakespeare had in mind.

“Who says I haven’t got one?” she flirts. Her hand rests just inches from his own, and he twines their fingers together, curls them against her abdomen. He sometimes wonders how his heart can possibly contain the amount of love he feels for her. People die of broken hearts; do they ever die of ones so full, they’re overflowing?

“Hey,” he murmurs into her hair, “What’s got you thinking about all this at…,” he tilts back his head to squint at the clock, “…one o’clock AM?” Her body is warm and impossibly perfect against him.

“I guess…,” she says, a contemplative tone to her voice, “I don’t know. These last few days have been a lot. I’ve been forced to consider things I haven’t thought about in years. My past, the way things used to be... What I used to assume my future looked like.”

“How’d it look?” They’re both nearing that point these days, where their paths can’t just keep continuing in the same straight line. They’re nearing a fork, he can feel it. Question is, will they both continue in the same direction?

“When I was a little girl,” she begins, “I was surrounded by Navy men, Navy wives, Navy families. We were taught call letters before learning our ABC’s. I always felt that sort of life was expected of me, too.” His air conditioner kicks on, fills the room with a gentle whirr. She burrows even closer. “It’s just funny how far we stray from what’s expected…”

“No more call letters, huh?” His lips catch on her hair as he talks. It’s wonderful.

“No, I guess not…To be honest, I sort of miss them. Things were simpler then. There were right choices and wrong choices, or at least it seemed that way.”

He realizes as they lie there that this moment is the fork in his path. That though the line between right and wrong choices may be blurred these days, there’s one choice he’s never once questioned. Dana Scully is the rightest choice he’s ever made. With her mouth full of questions and her head full of answers, her ever-arched eyebrow and her ever-open heart—she’s been his choice, his only choice, from the very beginning.

Scully is the Juliet to his Romeo—hell, she’s the Delta to his Foxtrot.

“Scully,” he murmurs, heart beating bravely in his chest, “Have I ever told you about the Fox Mulder alphabet?”

“Hmm, let me guess...” There’s humor in her voice, that wry Scully humor he adores. “A is for Alien, B is for Bounty Hunter, C is for…. Am I close?” Christ, but he loves this woman.

He pokes her gently in admonishment, answers, “Good try, smartypants, but no… No, you’re actually not close at all.”

“Tell me then, Mulder.” She pulls their hands up to rest beneath her cheek. “Tell me about your alphabet.”

And so he does. He takes a deep breath and he does.

He begins at the beginning. A is for Apple.

He tells her how watching her eat an apple once made him ache for her, how he can’t bite into a Red Delicious, or a Fuji, or even a Grannysmith anymore without thinking about her lips.

It scares him, being this honest, but there’s something in the air tonight, something in her mood, in the way she slipped off her skirt and climbed into his bed after falling asleep on his couch.

She’s quiet while he speaks, still—eerily so. Her breaths fall quickly against his hand. He’s sure he can feel her heart beating, or maybe that’s just his own, pounding much too dramatically within his chest. There’s a lump in his throat as he finishes, the No that’s terrified him for close to seven years dangling above like an anvil from some misguided Loony Tunes short.

He waits. And he waits. And is about to apologize for assumptions he shouldn’t have made when—

“More,” she breathes.

Not no. More.

He burrows his nose in her hair, presses a kiss of relief to her ear.

He gives her more, he gives her everything—he pours his entire heart out into silly little stories about a basketball game, about candlelight illuminating the skin of her back. The words spill out more quickly than he intends them to, but the dam has been breached; he cannot stop it.

She’s quiet through the basketball game, quiet again through the candles. Her little body doesn’t move. He understands. He knows it’s a lot to take in—the flood-like musings of Fox Mulder’s mind. Her ears are all he asks of her tonight.

By the time he’s reached D though, she gives him more than her ears. “D is for Dana,” he begins softly. And instead of more silence, she whispers his name.

By E, there are tears at her cheek. He wonders for an instant whether that long-ago jewelry store could possibly still be open, whether she’d wait for him here while he makes a quick trip.

By F, she’s pressing barely-there kisses to his knuckles. Friends don’t do that, he’s sure. Their relationship may be uncertain, but friends don’t press kisses to knuckles, they don’t lie in beds at one in the morning, tell stories in hushed whispers with backs pressed to chests.

By G, she’s murmuring my God against his palm, Mulder against each of his fingertips. His basement globe spins and it spins. Never could it have predicted an adventure like this.

H… I… J... Her toes slide along his shins, they follow the curves of his arches. Her long-lost jacket hangs nestled in his closet not ten feet away.

K... “New Year’s Eve, Scully… That kiss…” He tells her she’s all he could want from this millennium, or the next, or even the next (that’s illogical, Mulder, he expects her to say). She doesn’t though. She doesn’t say that. Instead, she turns in his arms, raises big, wet eyes up to his.

“Keep going…,” she urges him on when he pauses, “Please, Mulder, keep going.” Her fingers tremble as they move across his chest.

And so he keeps going. L... (“Scully, Scully, Scully, Scully, Scully,” he breathes)… M… N… With each new letter, her touches grow surer—small, gentle hands find his ribs, his shoulders, the wildly-beating pulse at his neck. By O, those same hands are in his hair, they’re cradling his cheekbones, they’re fingering the soft, curved shells of his ears.

P... “That plum,” he whispers, “…the juice…your thumb...” Her thumb (the same one he sucked into his mouth so many months ago) skims over his stubbled chin, makes its tentative way to his lips. His tongue steals out for a taste, and she sucks in a breath, her eyes fluttering shut. She drags her hand away before he can swallow her whole.

Q... (“Dulcinayyy-uhhh,” he sings quietly)… R… The heat of her breath hits his neck, hovers beneath his jawline until he can barely speak. “Don’t stop,” she whispers when he falters. Her mouth slides against his throat and he groans.

S… T... By U, he can’t keep from touching her. A hand tangles finally in her hair, the other slips beneath her sweater and molds to the warmth of her back. She whimpers, her body arching sharply against him. Umpteen is the number of times this very scenario has played itself out in his dreams.

By V, his lips are at her temple, “V is for Volume” spoken directly against her skin. She turns the dial all the way to the left, sighs so softly he almost misses it.

W and X fall between kisses, his lips on her eyelids, at her jaw, wrapped around the lobes of her ears. Barely-there whimpers slip from the back of her throat, and he reaches for that imaginary recorder, adds them to his mixtape as well. Her legs tangle with his and he pulls her even closer.

“Y is for Yawn,” he murmurs against her hairline, “Tonight, out there, while we sat on the couch…”

“I’m not…,” her voice is low and husky, so close to his ear that he shivers, “…m’not yawning now, Mulder…”

He shifts, rests his forehead against her own. Hot, ragged breaths collect on the pillow between them. He can hardly believe a few hours ago, they were out on his couch drinking tea, a few years ago, they were meeting in the basement for the very first time.

“What about…,” she breathes, the tip of her nose nudging his, “What about Z?” Their hands roam freely now, sensuous and slow. She angles her pelvis against his, presses softly.

“Z…,” he barely gets out, “…is for Zipper.” She’s trembling against him, and it’s the sexiest thing in the world. “The zipper from your skirt that woke me half an hour ago, the zipper that—”

She swallows the rest of his words with a kiss, open-mouthed and desperate, body melting against his.

Her lips, her tongue, the flutter of her fingers at his cheek… He forgets about candles, about earrings, about Rick Channing and Don Quixote and even about the wristwatch lying just across the room on the dresser. He forgets about everything in the world except Scully and her mouth, about the way she kisses him with her whole damn body, with hands in his hair and toes flexed at his shins and hips arched so divinely against his, he worries he’ll faint.

As her sweater slides over her head, he marvels at the way everything has fallen into place, how a crisp, juicy apple led to a basketball game, how sleepy, sexy yawns led to the undoing of zippers, how all of it combined led to them being here, now, discovering each other for the very first time.

Their lovemaking is slow, achingly so. It’s the Standard English Alphabet, the Military Phonetic Alphabet, and the Fox Mulder Alphabet combined—whimpers and sighs and Romeo and Juliet and ice cream and globes and… Amazingly, in the end, it all makes perfect, wonderful sense.

As they move together, the beginnings of a new alphabet emerge in his head—A for the arc of her hips as they rise; B for her short, quickened breaths; C for her cries, for her moans, for her whines; D for the softest derriere he’s ever held in his palms; E for her elbows, laid either side of his ears; F for fuck, for oh holy fuck, Scully, sweetheart, I’m gonna, I’m gonna…

“It’s crazy really, isn’t it?” he murmurs afterwards, Scully tucked beneath his arm, her leg slung sweetly over his sweat-damp thigh.

“Hmm?” Her fingers play at his lips, trace over and around and between.

“That it took us seven years…,” he mumbles around a pinky, “…when in the end, it really was as easy as learning our ABC’s.”

She hums, presses a kiss to his chest right above a nipple. “You could have had me all the way back at C if you’d wanted to, Mulder...”

He smiles, pulling her impossibly closer. Her breasts are soft against his chest and her chin rests at his shoulder, and for a moment, all is right in their windmill-riddled, impossible dream of a world.

“I think Z was perfect,” he says, kissing the disheveled part of her hair, “Absolutely perfect.”

#I hate it I love it I don't even know anymore #but it's here #I hope it was worth the wait guys!#The Fox Mulder Phonetic Alphabet #my fic

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glitterslag · 5 years ago

Text

Strip Tease.

So this was on my mind for a few days and until I cracked and did blurbs for everyone! I’m super into Warren lately, and I haven’t done anything for Ben in a while so that’s what imma do

summary: Warren the master mixologist, sad, divorced Roger and Ben on a stag-do straight out of The Inbetweeners. And you, a stripper.

warnings: strip club, divorce, cheating, alcoholism, difficult sexual themes. References to sex and some light smut at the end.

word count: hella

A/N: This came out as more of a character study than anything else. Also, I’m seeing a lot of fuckboi ben HCs on my dash lately so I needed to remedy because i can’t handle the cold truth. So I wrote 2k words of lovely conscientious ben walking you home safe x

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Thanks for nearly 1k followers!! I’m celebrating by writing a ton of blurbs, headcanons and oneshots! Y’all are keeping me busy with the requests so far, but if you did want to suggest something, feel free! I hope I’ll get round to it

Warren.

The bar staff were nearly always female.

Recruit a pretty young girl to work 8 hours on her feet for minimum wage, while dancers make hundreds a night more than her wearing only a little less - you can pretty much guarantee the rest. She’ll be dancing in no time.

That was the idea, anyway. They would hire you to wait tables, but what they were really after was another stripper. A cash grab. In fact, that’s how most of them start. Turns out, customers aren’t really that bothered about the standard of the drinks they’re being served - not when they’re already drunk and distracted by everything else that’s… going on.

It does, however, mean you’re left with a high turnover rate, and a distinct lack of male bodies on the staff. It could be useful, your manager muses, to have someone there other than the bouncers, standing at the back of the room, keeping an eye on the floor. Looking after the girls a bit. Making sure nothing untoward was going on.

Plus, the boy’s a professional. He’s worked in bars before - high end ones - and he’s got a trick or two up his sleeve. It might be nice to bring a sense of class about the place, everyone agrees. Bring in a real mixologist. Maybe it would increase sales.

Warren used to be an alcoholic until he started working in bars.

It might seem contradictory, but really it makes perfect sense. It was only being around other drunkards 40 hours a week that made him realise how much he didn’t want to be one anymore.

Now he rarely drinks at all. Just mixes the cocktails. He’s really fucking good at it, too. Watching him skilfully tossing the bottles around - fingers so dexterous as he juggles with ingredients like it’s easy. It’s really sexy.

He causes a bit of a fuss when he first starts. People wonder whether he isn’t a stripper himself, wandered into the wrong club by accident. He’s certainly got the physique for it. Or is he going to be a bouncer, with that fearsome set of wings and his hard, hard expression?

Rumours swirl about him leaving his last job because he broke up with one (or, depending on who you talk to, several) of the waitresses. He was sleeping with one of your coworkers by the end of the second week.

That’s how it had started with you, too. A one night stand quickly escalated into twice, three, then four times. And then the next thing you knew it was A Thing.

They tell you not to date someone from the club when you start. If you guys fight, you’ll be bringing that into work. If you guys break up… well. The next few shifts are going to be awkward for everyone involved.It’s hard to resist each other, though, and perhaps against both of your better judgements, you fall in love.

Casual hookups with girls from the scene are Warren’s bread and butter, but getting into a relationship with one is a different thing all together. He’s crazy possessive, and the thought of being forced to watch you, having fun with other guys night in, night out - he had thought it would be torture.

Actually, it’s not like that at all. It only reinforces that this is only a job, it’s only money. You don’t like kissing the men, or letting them grope you. Some girls do it, and you have done in the past, too, but you had decided not long into the relationship that it wasn’t worth the extra tips.

Customers will often ask you if you have a boyfriend, and sometimes, if you’re feeling really cheeky, you’ll nod towards Warren behind the bar. It’s always a satisfying experience for both of you to watch a man’s eyes flicker to the back of the room, turn pale as chalk and take his hands off you quick-sharp.

He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t hard not to get distracted by you during a shift. Yes, he’s one of the only men in the world who are unfazed by sex workers, spending six days a week surrounded by semi naked women. But he’s only a man, and watching you up there, working the pole in nothing but a thong and six inch heels, your eyes always fixed on him at the back of the room - let’s just say he’s thankful the bar is at waist height.

An underrated perk of the relationship is working the same hours. You’ve never had that in a boyfriend before, and it’s so nice to be able to spend time with each other in the day. To leave for work and come home at the same time, sometimes even driving in together. Some couples would find it smothering, spending so much time together like that, but you two don’t much care for other people anyway. You only need each other.

Underneath the dark and edgy exterior, Warren is a big softie. He’s a vegetarian who loves animals, and is the owner of one blue eyed husky named Shadow. When not at work he can be found in the gym, or curled up on the sofa with you, his pup, and something good to watch on netflix.

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Roger.

The first night he comes in and you’re all over him like a rash.

You’ve been doing this a couple of years now, and you’ve learnt to tell the different types of customer by sight. You dance near him to get a closer look - yep. Just what you suspected:

Recently divorced. Lonely. Rich.

How do you know?

No wedding ring, for a start. There’s a tan line there, though, on his fourth finger, indicating it was taken off recently. He hasn’t just shoved it in his back pocket to come here, though. He’s not unfaithful. Or at least, he isn’t being right now. He’s lonely. He’s been dumped.

There’s a five o’clock shadow on his neck that he doesn’t normally let grow. It doesn’t match the colour of his bleach blonde foils. He’s in his mid thirties, and his clothes look expensive. He orders a whiskey, neat. A sad man’s drink.

You watch him dig for his wallet, a cigarette hanging from between his lips. He slaps it onto the table. Roger isn’t a particularly tall man, but if he sat on his wallet, maybe.

You watch Katelyn swaying towards him, offering him a lap-dance which he politely declines. It could be that he’s just here to watch. That happens, sometimes, with divorcees. The younger, more excitable men are kids in a sweet shop, just wanting to touch everything they see. But men his age - men who should be home with their wives on Tuesday nights instead of nursing a whiskey in this seedy establishment, they sometimes won’t buy anything at all.

The other alternative is that he’s waiting for you.

You decide to hedge your bets.

You walk over to his table, praying no-one on the way catches your eye, and you manage to make it uninterrupted. You give him a sweeping look, pausing just a moment while he makes his decision, and sure enough he’s pulling out a twenty. He tucks it into your bra as you take a seat on his lap, and you get to work.

There’s a no contact rule here, but sometimes you let them touch you, especially if they look anything like him. You take hold of his hands and place them on your waist as you roll your hips against him in time to the song, dropping down in between his legs a moment before wiggling back up, hands gripping his thighs for support. You sink down onto his lap again and you hear him groan just a little, breath tickling your bare shoulder. You grind down onto him harder, gyrating around lazily until you feel him stuffing more bills into your knickers.

You grab them discreetly, rolling them up and tucking them into your garter instead. It’s more secure in there.

You decide to up the ante.

You get up momentarily to shimmy in front of him, before spinning around and straddling his lap again, facing him this time. You loop your arms around his neck, swaying your hips against him as you look into his eyes. Making him feel like he’s the only man in the room.

“Where’s your wife?” You lean forward and murmur into his ear in a smokey voice, playing with the fingers on his wedding hand.

“Haven’t got one.” He says in a strained tone, groaning again as you slide over his hardening bulge.

“Girlfriend?”

“No,” He forces out.

“Poor baby.”

You don’t break eye contact with him as you lift his hand up to your lips and suck his index finger into your mouth. He curses under his breath. The song finishes, and it’s probably a good job, because you wager he’s about to make a mess of his jeans.

He doesn’t pay for another one. But he does call you over again later that night and you just talk. He’s really nice, not to mention easy on the eyes, and for the first time in a while, you can honestly say you’re having a good time. You’re almost a little sad when it’s time for him to leave, and not just because the cash stops coming.

“Come back, won’t you?” You whisper into his ear, lips trailing over the skin ever so slightly. He just laughs.

He does come back, though. A little over a week later. And again, a week after that. You learn his name is Roger, he’s got two kids, and he’s been divorced a month, though his relationship broke over a year ago. He never tells you what it is he does that makes him so rich.

Most of the time, you just sit on his lap and talk. He’ll hand you pound notes every once in a while, or stuff them into your garter belt - large, warm hands running tantalisingly up your thigh.

He wants to know if you let the other men touch you like he does.

“Only you, Rog.” You whisper, and he almost seems taken in by it, just for a second, and then he laughs.

“Christ I’m an old fool.” He says, shaking his head with a sad chuckle. “I bet that’s what you say to them all.”

–

As the weeks pass, he becomes a regular face. He always politely declines the other women’s advances, preferring to wait until you’re available to come and sit on his lap, stealing a drag of his cigarette before looping your arms around his neck and gazing into his eyes to listen to him talk. Tell you about his day.

You always look forward to the nights he comes in, but you’re not sure when exactly it had stopped being about the money for you. Probably about the time you’d started letting him kiss you. You’d never let a customer do that before.

You start giving him private dances. They’re timed sessions off in a side room, where a bouncer will stand outside the door and knock at intervals to tell you how much time you have remaining. So not exactly private. But it’s still you and him, alone. Getting heated.

“We could have this in real life, you know.” You whisper to him one night, head flung back and voice breathy as he sucks at one of your nipples.

Roger laughs. He’s always doing that.

“And what would you want with an old creep like me, hm?” He murmurs, lips trailing up the valley between your breasts to land at your throat.

“I’m serious, Rog.”

The bouncer knocks on the door.

“Five minutes remaining.”

You sigh.

You feel Roger slipping more notes into your thong and for once, you halt stop his hand.

“Don’t.” You reproach, and he blinks up at you in surprise. “I hate it when you do that.”

“Do what?” He asks in disbelief. “Pay you for doing your job?”

“Remind me that this can’t be real.”

Your voice is small.

“Remind me that you don’t seem to want me. Not outside of here, anyway.”

To Roger’s utter dismay, you’re welling up. He can’t believe his eyes. He’d never once considered that any of this could be real for you, never dared to believe that you might want him the way he wants you. Longs for you. That you cared about anything more than taking his money.

His voice is soft and contrite when he reaches up to cup your cheek in his hand, thumbing away at your tears.

“Darling, I- I had no idea-”

The bouncer knocks again and you both breathe out a shaky laugh, foreheads coming to rest together.

When he asks Roger if he wants to extend the time, needless to say there’s only one answer he can give.

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Ben.

Ben’s designated driver for a stag-do.

You decide it’s a stag do, and not a “taking our friend, who just got dumped, out on the piss” do, even if it is a rather sad one.

It’s the first weekend back after New Year, and you’ve been expecting the turnout to be dismally poor, and to be fair, it is. Other than the fat old man on his own in the corner who’s here most nights, they’re almost the only ones here. It’s 2 o’clock in the morning, and you’re not sure if originally there had been more of them, but by the time they walk in, the party has dwindled down to about five.

Girls are getting sent home left and right because the place is so dead, and you’re gutted to be one of the few left on the floor. In fact you’d nearly taken the night off, knowing nobody ever has money to spend in January, never mind throw around on strippers.

You sigh and wait for them to hand over their phones and get their drinks from the bar.

Ben looks uncomfortable. He’s never been to a strip club before, it’s written all over his face. Probably doesn’t agree with the principle. Just begrudgingly here to do lifts, and make sure nobody chokes on their own vomit, or anything.

He’s attractive, too. You’re quite tempted to make a bee-line for him, watch his fair cheeks flush red under the fluoro lights as you make him an offer he can’t refuse. Given the choice between a group of lairy stags and their visibly uncomfortable, decidedly more attractive sober driver, you’d rather have the latter. Honestly, you can get a really good conversation out of the sober ones sometimes, especially when it’s quiet. Plus, you love the nervous ones.

But you’re also painfully aware of how slow it’s been, so you sigh and mark out the pathetic one and go and sell a lap dance to him instead, taking his money while you watch your co-worker smirk and shimmy over to Ben out of the corner of your eye. And you don’t know why, but it gives you a very small but very there sense of satisfaction when you see that he’s not into it.

Some girls will let any handsome face become a distraction, and it’s exactly what you’ve been told not to do but he’s gorgeous; so very out of his depth, politely clapping and nodding his head along with the music while he nervously sips his diet coke. And it’s not like he’s the only sober driver ever to walk in, neither is he the first person who’s been uncomfortable. But it’s so obviously his first time and there’s just something so reassuring about that. Working there can make you lose a little faith in humanity if you aren’t careful.

It’s not as if all customers are rude, but the reality is a lot of them are. You get asked out multiple times a shift, see married men every day who insist that they love their wives one minute and are taking off their wedding rings and begging you for a private dance the next. It’s refreshing to see someone like Ben in here every once in a while.

Your manager says you can go home at some point before the close up, so you go through the back to get changed and wait for your lift. It’s always a bit warm in there after you’ve put your sweater and leggings back on, so you go and wait in the bus shelter outside. It’s a well-lit street, and when you’re back in your trackies you feel relatively safe to wait there.

After a while, your brother hasn’t come to get you (yes, your family know what you do and no, they haven’t disowned you) so you ring him. He doesn’t answer.

You see Ben and co drive past and you smile to yourself, wondering if they’d even recognise you now, with your makeup off and your clothes on. He sees you standing there, sheltering from the drizzle in the plastic bus stop, and he reverses the car back past you and rolls the window down.

“You got a lift, love?” He enquires politely.

You can hear his drunken mates heckling from inside the car.

“Yes, thanks.”

“Want me to call you a taxi?” He presses.

“No thanks.” You say. “They should be along soon.”

He looks at you hard.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes.”

Just then, one of them has to get out of the car to be sick all over the pavement and you recoil, taking it as your chance to escape. You walk 50 or so metres down the road until you’re out of earshot of the retching, but you can still hear the rest of them hooting and hollering and slapping him on the back, egging him on.

Ben isn’t pushy, though.

“Look,” he says. ”I’m going to drop these idiots off and then I’ll loop back afterwards just to check you’ve been picked up, ok?”

“Look you really don’t have to-”

“It’s for my own peace of mind,” he cuts in. “And if you’re still here, then I'm.more than happy to see you into a taxi.”

You want to protest again, but his friends are shouting “Give it up, Ben”, mocking him. His neck is turning red and you’ve been annoyed with them all night and so you say yes. Ok. You thank him and then he drives off into the night, the car full of drunks cheering and yelling as they recede.

You don’t like getting in taxis at this hour, or getting on the tube. It’s late and it’s London, plus you don’t want a lift driver seeing you near to the club and figuring out what you do and thinking they can just…

Anyway.

Your brother still isn’t answering. He works late shifts as a hospital porter, and this sometimes happens. You sometimes get a lift with one of the other girls, but with there being hardly anyone in tonight, you’re rather stuck. You go back inside and try to scrounge a lift. It’s annoying, the couple who are still on shift live far out of your way or get public transport. Your manager says he’s happy to give you a lift, but only after he cashes up and closes up. It could take ages, but you’re content to wait inside while you wait for your brother to answer. You stand by the window, interested to see if Ben really will come back.

And he does.

You wander outside to speak to him, more out of boredom than anything else.

“Want me to wait with you until your boyfriend arrives?” He asks, and you’re a little touched at how considerate he’s being, so you tell him ok.

You don’t bother to correct him about the boyfriend – perhaps if he thinks you’re taken it’ll make you safer. You’ve got this deep feeling that he isn’t dangerous, but it would be insanity to get into a car with him nevertheless – he’s a complete stranger. Still, you’re bored and you want to chat to the nice man, because it might be the first charming, intelligent conversation you’ve had all week. Was that so bad?

So you make him switch the engine off and take the keys out and put the keys where you can see them, and then you get in the car but keep the car doors firmly open so you can escape if he tries anything. He’s a little bemused, but he understands your justifiable caution.

You chat and he’s really kind, and doesn’t ask you the normal dumb stripper questions (“aren’t your family ashamed of you?” “Are you doing this to fund a crack habit?” “How do you not get turned on on the job?”). He’s genuinely interested in you. Like, outside of work you. And yes, naturally he is a little curious about the job, but it’s quite cute watching him struggle to phrase the questions in a way that isn’t rude, and you do your best to answer truthfully. He seems satisfied with the answers, if a little thoughtful.

After about 20 minutes you get a call from your brother, apologising that he has to stay later at work. He tells you he’s happy to put you into a taxi. You roll your eyes and tell him no thanks.

“Ok,” Ben says as you get off the phone. “What’s the plan? How do we get you home safe?”

You think about it for a little while and then ask him if he’d mind accompanying you home. You could take the tube halfway and then it was a 20 minute walk to yours. You feel rude asking for all that but he just says sure, of course, no problem. I’ll just come back for my car later.

The more you’re with him the safer you feel. He carries your heavy bag all the way home and he doesn’t flirt. And you really, really appreciate that. And even though you wouldn’t even mind if he did - in fact, you kind of really wish he would - he doesn’t.

“Aren’t you tired?” You wonder when you’re getting near the house. “No.”

You get home and you both stand awkwardly on the doorstep, and when it becomes clear he’s not going to invite himself inside you give him a kiss on the cheek and thank him and shut the door. You stand with your back up against it for a while, heart pounding, until you just bite the bullet and fling it open again, charging back out. You run after him and grab his wrist and he spins around in shock, shoulders softening when he sees it’s just you.

“Are you ok-” He starts at the same time as you ask him whether he wants to come inside. He tries to hide the fact that he can’t quite believe his luck.

You take him in and sit him down and ask if he wants a drink.

“I could do with a shot, if I’m honest.” He says, a little shakily.

You search the cupboards and pour him out some tequila, and a beer from the fridge as well. You watch how quickly he slams the liquor, and realise he’s nervous.

You explain that you need to have your tea.

“Do you want anything?”

“No, thanks.”

You reheat some rice and come and perch on the arm of the sofa with your feet on him as you chat. The TV is on in the background, and because it’s three in the morning, American sport is on. He seems to get quite into it, so you excuse yourself to get ready for bed and leave him there.

You have a shower and brush your teeth, the hot water a tonic for your sore muscles as you scrub the sweat and grime of the club off your skin. You pass the kitchen on the way back to your room, and peep in. Ben’s texting frantically, and you have to stifle a giggle, imagining what he’s telling his friends. You wonder whether they’ll even believe him.

You materialise in the kitchen doorway a minute later, hanging around the edge of the door with a little smirk on your face.

Wet hair and pink Primark pajamas. it’s a stark contrast to the way you looked in your heels.

Ben turns the off the TV. He sits back to look at you. It’s silent.

“Why didn’t you give me a lapdance?” He asks suddenly. “Before?”

Barefoot, you pad across the wooden kitchen floor until you’re standing between his legs. He’s leaning back against the sofa to look up at you, half finished bottle of beer still in one hand.

“Do you want one now?” You whisper. Your voice is hoarse.

He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly.

“Just kiss me.” He whispers.

Not two hours ago he was looking at you nearly naked, watching you twirl and gyrate on strange men for money. You don’t know why it’s now that you’re suddenly nervous.

You plop down gently in his lap. His hand grabs for your waist automatically. Your eyes flutter closed, and you lean in minisculely until his lips are grazing yours.

You grab the beer bottle out of his hand and set it down on the floor without breaking the kiss, and then, grabbing the material of his shirt in your fists, you push him backwards onto the sofa until he’s horizontal.

–

“Ben.” You manage as he pushes into you for the first time, your voice coming out as no more than a breathy moan.

You’ve migrated from the sofa to your bedroom, and he’s got you lying on your tummy underneath him, one foot hooked around the back of his calf, encouraging him to go deeper. Harder.

Perhaps the best thing about sleeping with men who know you’re a stripper is how hard they always try to please you. It’s as if they think your job is synonymous with getting tons of action, that they’re competing with the orgies they imagine you attend every night and honestly, you’re not complaining.

Ben’s already made you come twice at this point - once with his mouth, once with his fingers, and by the time he enters you there’s little you can do but moan and whimper into the pillow.

“I don’t have a condom.” He’d warned as you took his hand and led him towards your bedroom, switching all the lights off on the way, the house getting darker and darker each time.

“That’s alright.” You’d said as you’d laced your fingers through his, turning to face him on the threshold of your bedroom doorway. “I’ve got plenty.”

He’d laughed.

Now, after he’s nudged your legs apart with his knees in order to slam into you deeper, you’re approaching your third orgasm of the night. He’s getting close too, hips starting to stutter against you as his breaths grow heavy and ragged.

His arms pack in at some point, shaking on either side of you as he seems not to be able to hold himself above you any longer. His elbows tremble and collapse under him, and he lays out on top of you instead, doing his best not to squash you into the mattress.

“Sorry.”

He murmurs a breathy giggle into your ear. You shivered.

“Are you close?” You reply, no more than a whisper in the dark. You turn your head to rest in the crook of your elbow so you can look at him. You find his face close to yours.

“Y-Yeah.” He says with some effort. He sounds it.

The feeling of his body weight on top of you, being covered by him - your high is coming now whether you want it too or not.

“M’gonna..” You trail off at the same time as he says, “Me too-” and you feel the throb of him inside you.

Ben lets out a long groan, resting his sweaty forehead against the back of your neck as he comes, and you reach around to to cradle the back of his head.

You don’t even make a sound as you hit your peak - you’re already cried out. Only able to silently clench your teeth and your fists and your toes as you convulse around him.

“Stay.” You tell him, after.

“What?”

“Stay.”

It’s four in the morning, and you’ve suddenly remembered his car is still parked outside of the club. And plus, you’re not quite ready to let go of him yet.

“Okay.” He says quietly, tentatively reaching out to stroke your bare arm in the dark.

—

You woke late the following morning, and since neither of you had work the next day, (obviously), you decided to go to the gym together as a date. You had asked Ben if he wanted to go to a restaurant, but he can’t right now because he’s in heavy training for a shoot next week.

Skip to a few months later and you two are happily dating, and his favourite game to play is to come in to the club on random nights and surprise you, blending in with the other customers while he patiently waits until you’re free for a lap dance. It’s amazing, but by the time the song ends he’s got you aching to finish up and come home.

He still picks you up from work (another great perk of having a boyfriend without a 9-5), and by now he’s a familiar face among the rest of the staff. Needless to say they’re all in love with him. Sometimes, he’ll come down a bit early and come in for a drink while he waits for you to get finished up. It’s not uncommon to come out of the changing rooms to find him sat on the bar stool, but you can rest assured he’s never watching the naked girls – he’s usually chatting football with the bar tender.

#ben hardy #roger taylor #Warren Worthington III #ben hardy x reader #roger taylor x reader #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington x reader #ben hardy blurb #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy!roger x reader #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor headcanons #queen band #queen imagines #Queen #BoRhap #bohemian rhapsody #borhap boys #borhap imagines

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shreddedparchment · 6 years ago

Text

Man and Wife Pt.05

The Two Lives

04/14/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 11,536

*Masterpost in Notes Warnings: angst, smut, language, jealousy, love triangles

A/N: I’m not going to make this long. I hope you enjoy this one. Things kinda blow up. Also, this story is becoming much longer than I anticipated. Damn. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

“You want some help?” Henry sidles up beside you, staring down at the box of manuscripts. There has to be at least thirty to forty stories, all of them riding on the hope that you might like one of them and then the process will commence.

Only one of the authors in this box will be picked for next year’s Spring publishing cycle and though normally this weight would be heavy on your shoulders, a different sort of worry weighs you down.

In this moment, standing in the small two-story office in town in front of your very plain wooden desk, the only thing you can think about is whether Bucky has gone back to the apartment yet.

Had he shown up and seen you gone? Would he have waited for you? Is he still waiting if he’d decided to? It’s a Saturday but you’d come in knowing that Henry would be here. He’s always here, working too hard.

You’d asked him once if he didn’t have a girlfriend or wife at home angry at him for coming into work on a day he could be spending with her, but he’d assured you that he was very single.

Although you and Henry have been coworkers—technically he's your boss—for a long time, the two of you have always avoided conversations about each other's love lives. For good reason.

However, today…today, you can't seem to control your mouth.

“If you were married…would you be here? At work?” You wonder, staring at the loaded box with dazed eyes.

“Me?” Henry reaches up and scratches the coarse hair on his scruffy chin. He shoves his left hand into the pocket of his gray slacks, the sleeves of his white button up rolled up around his muscular forearms, the dark blue vest stretched taut with very little wiggle room along his sculpted body. “Well, first off, it would take an amazing woman to get me to walk down the aisle.”

He lets that sit in the air between you. You’re not sure why, as out of it as you are. When you don’t respond to the comment, he turns around to semi-sit and lean against the edge of your desk. He reaches out towards you and wraps his hand around your wrist to get your attention.

“Y/N? Did something happen at home?” Of course, Henry knows all about Bucky. The fact that you have a husband is no secret.

Your phone flashes—almost as if on cue—with a new text alert and the picture of you kissing Bucky’s cheek is nice and visible for a second across the shattered glass.

Proof of your marriage is not only on your phone’s lock screen, but there’s a framed picture of you and Bucky at your wedding on your desk, and you’d also sent in a change of name email to Sana—who by herself represents the entirety of the HR department—so that everyone would know to call you Mrs. Barnes if they were going to refer to you by name. Your desk plaque was changed too and the Y/N Barnes, etched in steel, glints up at you as the sun from the open window hits it.

Of course, calling you Mrs. Barnes doesn't apply to Henry. He’s your boss. He can call you whatever he wants, within reason.

You look at him, away from the box and force a small smile. It's tight, disingenuous, and it makes the worried pucker between Henry's eyes more pronounced.

“When you get married, don’t leave your wife alone often. It’s important to make her feel like she matters.” You nod, agreeing with yourself.

“Did Bucky leave again?” Henry asks.

You give him a real smile this time, and shake your head. “I don’t know. He usually wakes me up when he has to go for a few days. I think he just went to work out with Steve. He wouldn’t leave on mission without telling me.”

Of this you are certain.

You reach for the box’s lid, pulling your arm out of Henry’s gentle grip and slide it onto the box.

You look up at Henry and see his eyes flit to your left hand. Your smile vanishes and with a small ache in your chest you pull that left hand up towards your chest where you place it and then cover it with your right hand.

“He still hasn’t bought your wedding bands?” Henry wonders.

“He’s been so busy.” The wedding had been so hastily planned that wedding rings, which should have been your first priority when planning, had slipped your mind.

You should have just gone out and bought the rings yourself but you've been wanting to go with Bucky to choose them.

“Too busy to go out and get your rings?”

“Henry, he was gone for a week. He just got back and-”

“And he’s already left you alone to go work out with his friends? People he just spent seven days with?”

Henry criticizing Bucky is pissing you off. You know that he’s right because you’ve been telling yourself these exact things since you and Bucky had that first discussion about calling when he got home so you wouldn’t worry.

“They’re more than just friends, Henry. They’re like brothers.” You protest, defending Bucky fiercely.

Silence fills the large space, but Henry doesn’t stop staring at you.

“No.” He says.

You’re so confused by the word that you look up to find his dark eyes. “What?”

“If I were married…No. I wouldn’t be here. I’d be taking my wife to the beach since this is probably the last we’ll see of some good warm sun. Cold front’s supposed to roll in the next couple days.”

Oh, that’s what he’s talking about. You'd already forgotten you asked him that. You shouldn't have asked him that question.

“The beach sounds nice.” You reply, suddenly distracted.

You smile, picturing Bucky and yourself having a picnic on the beach, the loud soothing roar of the ever crashing waves lulling you into a nap as you sit with your head on Bucky's stomach. He’s stroking your hair and you’re in heaven. He’s laying back, his metal hand under his head as he stares up at the sky and you stare out towards the ocean.

Your smile slowly shifts into a sad frown because while the daydream is nice, it fades and you’re pulled back to reality.

“So…let’s go? Right now.” Henry offers and he sounds serious, almost wistful.

You look up at him and can see the hope in his eyes.

So much has changed for you in so little time. As he searches your eyes, his brow still puckered and his gaze intense, you flash back to the day after your wedding when you’d come back to work.

~~~~~~~~~~

You'd left work a single woman. Having chosen to take two weeks paid time off for a long overdue staycation. When you returned, you were Mrs. Y/N Barnes.

The first thing you do when you sit down at your desk is power on your computer, sign in to your work email, and quickly shoot Sana a letter explaining how you are now a married woman and will be going by Y/N Barnes from now on.

As expected, because Sana tells Kim everything and Kim tells everyone everything, the word of your marriage spreads quickly.

Happy flutters fill your tummy all day as you receive well wishes and congratulations from your coworkers. Almost all of them seem genuinely happy for you.

Only Lyla, a fellow editor, seems almost smug and sarcastic in her congratulations. She walks up to your desk and drops a large marked up manuscript so that it falls with a loud heavy thud.

You jump, wrapped up in your own work, and when she speaks she speaks loudly. Everyone in the large room will be able to hear her.

How does she do that? How does she speak loud enough for everyone to hear but not make it a shout? Weirdo.

Maybe it's only weird because you can be so soft spoken? You should learn to project.

“So, I hear you got married? Congratulations, Y/N. I’m surprised you found someone who-" Suddenly Lyla stops in the middle of her insult as she spots the photo on your desk.

A beautiful silver frame, a picture of you and Bucky looking at the camera within. Bucky looks dapper in his black formal wear, his hair pulled back into a loose bun but carefully styled. His blue eyes are so bright that they aren’t steel blue but aquamarine, small flecks of green towards the center. Made more prominent thanks to the flash of the camera. His full beard, excited pearly white smile, and nervously flushed cheeks complete the breathtaking beauty that is James Buchanan Barnes.

You aren’t so bad either in your white, shiny satin dress, the lace on the bodice handmade according to Tony. However, Lyla doesn’t have eyes for you. She's looking at the handsome man beside you.

She grabs the frame and holds it closer to get a better look. She's going to smudge it!

“This is him? This is your husband?” You can see the disbelief in her eyes as she can’t fathom how anyone who looks like Bucky could want you.

You reach out and take the frame back, yanking it rudely out of her hands. You don’t care for the judgment and sheer shock on her face.

Bucky loves you! Although, you’re still kind of confused as to why.

“Yes.” You snap.

“How? Isn't he an Avenger? I’ve seen him before. On the news.”

“Can I help you with anything, Lyla? I really need to get back to work.”

Lyla opens her mouth to retort but just as she places her perfectly manicured left hand on your desk and leans in close enough to spit vile venom at you, Henry moves into his doorway. A large imposing figure with a scowl that contorts his usually bright expression.

“Y/N? In my office.”

You turn your chair, swiveling to look at Henry while Lyla shoots up, standing straight and at attention. She fiddles with her dark hair nervously and adjusts her pants.

“Lyla, don't you have work to do?” He's curt and hard with his words, focusing most of his scowl on Lyla but at the last second, as he turns to disappear back into his office, he turns it on you.

“Y-Yes, Henry. Sorry.” Lyla sputters, her disappointment is clear in the careful downturn of her lips.

You’re not sure what look she gives you as she turns to head back to her desk because you’re staring at the now empty doorway to Henry's office.

Had you fucked up already? You just got back. You hadn’t done much work yet. What could you have possibly ruined that he's mad at you? Damn. So much for a good first day back.

Afraid you’ve ruined something for a client you get to your feet.

With a shaking hand you carefully put the picture of you and Bucky back in its spot. You run your finger along the curve of his jaw as you sigh, terrified of a reprimand, and silently plead with him for courage.

You grab your little brown leather book, a journal where you keep notes during meetings, and proceed into Henry's office holding the journal against the black fabric of your pencil skirt on your lap.

Henry's office is sparsely decorated. There’s a large ficus by the window where the sun streams in, a picture frame of his favorite book, American Gods on the wall behind his desk, and two large red leather arm chairs in front of his modern maple wood desk provide one of the only splashes of color in the office.

Aside from those small touches, there's a computer on his desk. The wall beside his window is covered in filing cabinets, and there's a set of weights and a weight bench behind you.

You swallow hard, watching as Henry keeps his back to you, both hands in his pockets. He stares at the framed poster.

“Shut the door, please.”

Shit. You definitely fucked something up.

You do as he says.

“Have a seat.”

You do, choosing the red chair on the right as you worry your lower lip. You don’t dare look away from Henry. There’s a slump of disappointment in his shoulders and as he moves around his desk, his eyes dart to your hands. You’re still clutching your journal to your lap but now sitting, you realize how nervous it makes you look to hold it so tightly.

Trying to relax, you release a breath you weren't aware you’d been holding.

“You’re not in trouble.” Henry assures you and you wonder how he knows that's what you’re thinking.

He stops at the exact center of his desk then seems to change his mind about something. He turns towards the other red chair to your left and angles it to face you. He sits on the edge, then reaches out and takes hold of the arms of your own chair and turns it until you’re facing him too.

It surprises you but you keep your mouth shut and observe.

Henry is leaning forward, his shoulders still hunched so that he's right at eye level. He's still scowling but there's something else to his expression. Something like sadness.

There’s a question in his eyes but you can’t read what it is. In your alert curiosity, you sit up straighter.

“If I’m not in trouble then why the intrigue?” Four years of working with Henry come crashing down. Four years of late nights. Four years of laughter and long conversations about books and movies and anything and everything.

You smile, still nervous but relaxed.

“You’re kinda scaring me.”

“Is it true?” He asks, his hands still resting on the top edge of your seat's arms.

“What?” You ask, your smile vanishing in your befuddlement.

His eyes flit to your left hand on your lap then back up to your eyes and the same moment he speaks, you understand what he's asking.

“Are you really married? Did-did you get married while you were on vacation?”

He's breathless and your heart is hammering in your chest. Your mind isn’t sure why but your body is already panicking, clammy hands, shortness of breath, and a turmoil of tumbles in your stomach.

“Um…yeah.” You say, unsure.

Henry's hands grip the arms of your seat more tightly as he drops his head and looks down at his feet.

“Sorry I didn’t invite you. It was all short notice.” You laugh once. “It all happened so quickly I-"

“No.” He groans.

“Henry?”

“No. No. This-this can’t be happening. You weren’t even dating anyone before you left!” He looks back at you and you’re startled by the intensity of his eyes. You know that look because over the last two weeks, you’ve seen Bucky give you that look.

Fuck. You weren’t expecting this. Not after four years. Why now? Four years! Shit, Henry!

“You can’t be married yet, Y/N. I haven't even had a chance to-to tell you yet.” His voice is strained, pained, but there are no tears in his voice. It's more of a lamentation than a sobbing.

It still hurts to hear. Henry's your friend. Why does he choose to do this now when he had so much time before?

You don’t ask what he wants to tell you. You know very well what he's referring to so you turn your eyes down to his knees to hopefully deter what's coming.

“Y/N?” He's leaning down more, trying to catch your eyes to read you, to see you.

“Henry, please don’t do this.”

“I love you. I-I have for a long time. You can’t be married before I’ve even had the chance to try.”

You look up to meet his gaze, feeling upset now that he's said the words. Those words. Those three stupid words that mean everything when Bucky says them and now mean pain when Henry does.

There’s a small hint of pining in your chest as you consider Henry's confession.

Once upon a time, during your second year working here, Henry had caught your eye. You'd been like all the other girls in the office. Completely smitten by the six foot-one tall man, his dark skin supple against his tight muscles, his laugh easy and free.

In some ways, if you think about it, Bucky reminds you of Henry. Bucky's more serious but when it's just the two of you, he's like Henry. He makes you laugh and he's free with his smiles.

His beautiful smiles, only meant for you.

At the time, when Henry had been all you wanted, he'd been dating a beautiful model.

A literal model. He'd met her at a photoshoot for one of the raunchy romance books the company had published. What chance had you had against a perfect body and an endearingly demanding personality?

When she'd cheated on him and they'd broken up, you comforted him, as any good friend would. Secretly hoping that maybe now that he was single he might see you.

He never did. Or if what he says now is true and he has loved you for a long time, he let you torture yourself. He said nothing then so he shouldn’t get to do this.

No. He doesn’t get to do this to you now that you’re happy.

“Henry, I don’t want to hear that right now.” You assure him. “Why would you do this right now?”

“Y/N…?”

“No, Henry.”

“Please?” He reaches out and places his hand over yours.

“No!” You reply loudly, yanking your hand away from him and getting to your feet. “How dare you do this to me now.”

You drop your voice so that the gossips that linger by doors to listen can’t hear you.

“After all this time? Years! I have known you for years and not once have you even indicated that you wanted to see me outside of work.

“Bucky knew me for only two hours and he asked me to marry him." Okay, that sounded more romantic in your head. “You’ve known me for four years and you have said nothing!”

Henry stands, hands clenched into tight fists.

“What did you just say? Two hours?! You married someone who asked you to marry him after two hours?!”

“Yes!” You turn your chin up defiantly because although your voice is full of strength and passion, it’s still on the softer side. You don’t raise your voice often if ever. “Bucky is my husband now. And I’m happy. I’m so fucking happy and I will not let you ruin it for me. I love him-"

“Love him? How can you love him? You barely know him!”

“Keep your voice down.” You growl quietly, looking towards the door.

“You know me and I know you. I know how we work, Y/N. Us. We'd be great together! I know everything about you. Does Bucky know about how you say you don't have a favorite ice cream flavor but you always seem to go back to vanilla?”

You turn away from him, reaching up to press your hand to your mouth as you try to contain the sorrow and anger all at once.

“Stop.” You whisper. You had yearned for this man. You'd imagined what it would be like to kiss him, to have him hold you, to have him get down on one knee and ask you to marry him. It hurts.

“Does he know how you like your coffee? Your favorite pizza toppings? How old you were when you lost your parents and your grandpa?”

You shake your head, your anger growing. “Stop, Henry.”

“What about when you lost your virginity? Does he know you held out for so long?”

Fuck! “That's enough, Henry. Stop it!”

You turn to look at him, fuming because the ache in your chest has no right to be there. You'd given up this hope. The stern quality of your voice prompts Henry to listen and he stops talking, his mouth open as he breathes hard with emotion.

“You don’t get to do this to me. You don’t get to throw our friendship in my face and use it as justification for you thinking I shouldn’t have married Bucky. I love him.”

Henry begins to open his mouth to argue.

“I said, I love him, Henry. And nothing you say is going to change that. I…”

You see the sorrow in his eyes and guilt begins to gnaw at your chest.

“I'm sorry that this hurts you but you never said anything. If you really loved me, anywhere close to how I love Bucky then you would not have been able to stand being quiet.”

“I was waiting for the right time.” Henry explains, sadly.

“And when would that be? After I got back from vacation? Six months after that? Next summer? Fall? Winter? I waited for two years. You never said or did anything. How long was I supposed to wait for you to finally notice me? I liked you so much but I knew that you could never-”

Henry's eyes flash with hope. “You like me?”

“Liked. Two years ago after you and Iko broke up. Past tense, Henry. I liked you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He takes a step towards you and you take a step back, on the defensive.

“Why didn't you?! Why am I the one that has to put myself out there to be broken and trampled on? Why do I need to take that first step? You should have said something. You.” You shake your head, recalling your anger. “Look, I…I don’t want to fight. What's done is done and I’m happy. I love my husband and I’m sorry that hurts you and that you don’t understand that I feel closer to Bucky after knowing him only two weeks than I have to anyone else I’ve ever met—save for Casey. And if you’re my friend, then you’ll tell me congratulations and never bring this up again.”

Cruel? You feel like it a little. Henry is trying so desperately to understand what went wrong for him.

He's quiet for so long, staring at your face as you fix him with a determined gaze.

“Henry?”

He seems to snap out of his daze but his sorrow doesn’t relent.

After a moment of consideration and knowing you need to get out of this office, you offer him your left hand. “Congratulate me, Henry, and wish me good luck.”

He looks down at your hand and then takes it. He turns it over so that he can look at the back of it, searching.

“No ring?”

You yank your hand away angrily. “Ugh, I’m going back home for a few days. Paid. I don’t think my vacation was long enough.”

You march around him and the chairs, then move back towards the door. A few more days away from the office will be perfect. After today's shocking confessions, you need distance.

“Y/N?” You stop and look back at him, feeling worse. “Congratulations.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Henry,” You chastise him, and he caves immediately, relaxing his shoulders and turning that pleading gaze normal again.

As you shift uncomfortably, he sighs. “Sorry.”

You don’t want to deal with this on top of how shitty you’re already feeling at how Bucky left you alone again.

“I should go.” You make to lift the box but it's heavy and although you lift it well enough, you’re struggling.

Henry hurries forward, placing his hands on the handles of the cardboard box over yours.

“I’ll help you carry it home.”

“No, I’m alright. It's only two blocks.” A short walk and you’re home. A short walk and you’re at work.

It was one of the reasons Bucky chose this neighborhood. For you.

“It's heavy. Let me help.”

“No, I said I’ve got it.” You insist, trying to pull the box out of his grip. His hands are really hot over yours.

“Y/N,” The firm way he says your name halts your resistance. “I know you’re refusing to let it show how upset you are, for his benefit. I can see you're hurt. I don’t know what he did but, I can’t let you walk home alone while you have that look on your face.”

Startled by your inability to hide how you feel, you drop your hands and he easily takes up the weight.

“Besides, this box is heavy. Are you gonna let me feel like a douche? Or can I walk you home?”

You worry your bottom lip, hating the temptation of having him help you. You don’t see anything in the escort but Henry? He might think it means more than one friend helping another.

“I don’t know…”

He tilts his head, frowning at you as if to say, Come on. Stop being stubborn. You give in.

“Okay.” You still feel weird about it, but Henry walks you home, holding your box casually.

He walks you into your building. Up the stairs. And all the way to your door. You stop there, staring at the wood, wondering if Bucky is inside.

What are you gonna say? You really don’t want to fight but this isn’t okay. You can’t keep letting him think that leaving you alone as he has is alright. Because it isn’t. And it’s piling up into a mountainous problem. What if one of these days it gets so big that you can’t get over it?

“Y/N?” Henry gently urges.

You swallow hard then fish out your keys and unlock the door. He’s still not home. It wouldn’t have been locked if he were home. He never locks the door.

Your heart drops as you open the door into the empty apartment. Moving inside you move past the kitchen, into the large open room that makes up your living room and your dining room. You gesture Henry towards the large table with six chairs behind the sofa.

“Just drop it there.”

“Wow.” Henry moves in admiring the architecture of your home. “This place is nice.”

It really is beautiful. Art Deco curves and angles, swift sharp edges and then softly curved accents. The furniture is equally beautiful, and the only modern touches came from the items that you bought. The yellow throw pillows on the couch, the blue dishes sitting dirty in the sink.

Shit…you need to wash those. Bucky hates that.

As you’re caught up staring at the dirty dishes, you reach up and scratch the back of your neck.

“Thanks.” You say absentmindedly.

Suddenly, your attention is pulled to Henry, his large imposing form beside you. He’s not looking at the dirty dishes though. You find him looking at the large wedding photo of you and Bucky hung on the other side of the dining table.

“You looked beautiful, Y/N.” He says softly.

You don’t like the way his compliment makes your stomach shift.

There are more photos of you and Bucky on the end tables by the couch, on the empty shelves of the bookcase by the TV, there’s even one of you two cooking in the kitchen.

There is your life laid bare for Henry to see. You could show him your bedroom. There’s more in there. And then maybe if he saw the bed where Bucky fucks you, he might finally abandon his apparent love for you. You don’t need the reminder of it every time you go to work.

“You looked happy in those pictures.” Henry gestures only at the one in the kitchen sitting between two cabinets underneath the smoke detector and over the coffee maker.

Looked happy. You caught that.

“I am happy.” You insist.

“Right.”

“You should go.” You tell him and move towards the front door to open it up for him again.

He follows and stops just outside the doorway as you occupy the space in front of him, arms wrapped over your chest as you lean against the jamb.

Henry turns, shoving his hands into his pockets where he must be clenching them because you can see the strain of his veins on his forearms as he looks at you.

“I don’t know what’s upset you. And I know you won’t tell me. I…I took that away from you. Our friendship.” Henry sighs.

“Henry…please don’t.” You beg, you don’t want these words in your head when things are already so difficult.

“I need to say this.” He moves towards you, reaching to take hold of your arms just above the elbow. “I’m here, Y/N. I know that it might not be what it was but if you need to talk, or vent, or just not talk and spend a few hours doing something to get your mind off of whatever it is that’s bothering you—I’m here. I will always be here for you. As your friend…or…whatever you might need?”

The hopeful tone in his voice as he finishes what had begun as a comforting notion of having someone less aggressive than Casey to talk to, drives all the pleasantness of his words away.

You pull your arms away and he drops his hold on you.

“Thanks.” You tell him. “But I’m fine.”

Henry watches you for so long, you begin to feel exposed. He can see through you and you don’t like that or the ache that renews in your chest.

You’re slightly startled when you feel a warm flutter on your cheek as he presses a soft kiss to your skin. You freeze.

“I mean it. I’m here.” He pulls back and leaves.

You don’t watch him go. You stare at the spot he’d just been in, confusion washing over you in waves as you go back inside and shut the door. As if you’re on autopilot you wander into the kitchen, pull on your apron—a gag gift from Steve that looks like his Captain America uniform—and settle in front of the sink to wash the dishes.

You’re only at it for a few minutes. Enough time to get three plates washed, before the front door opens and shuts.

Your hands freeze for a moment, but you go back to washing when you feel eyes on you. You scrub hard. Too hard. You don’t care. You’re not really seeing the dishes. You’re gauging the room. You’re listening for his feet. You’re waiting for his words. Instead you smell soft soap and blue water musk as a warmth curls around your back.

He’s so fucking silent sometimes!

Shining metal reaches out and shuts off the sink leaving your hands soapy and wet. The hand retreats to the edge of the sink and holds the counter firmly.

“Where’d you go?” He asks and you see red. You’re so angry at him!

“Where did you?!” Not a shout. Never a shout. You don’t scream often. But your soft voice is stern. Hurt.

A heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I…I’m an idiot.”

“You keep telling me that, Bucky but it doesn’t seem to change anything.” You turn to look at him, but he doesn’t adjust his distance. He keeps you there in the tight circle of his arms as you meet his eyes.

There’s guilt in his expression. Good. At least he really means it.

“Why did you leave this morning?”

“I didn’t think.”

“I waited for you last night, Bucky. I-I cancelled plans with Casey and Jess because I wanted to see you. Because I was worried about you. And then I wake up this morning and you’re gone?” Now that you’ve let it all tumble out, it’s flowing quickly.

You’re not afraid of him getting angry because you’re so upset that you don’t care.

“I wasn’t thinking.” He admits, dropping his eyes to your neck and away from the hurt in your eyes. “I-I don’t even know what else to say. I’m an idiot.”

“Don’t you want to spend time with me?” You ask him, more hurt than anything else now.

“Of course! Of course, I do, Y/N. How could you think that I don’t-?”

“Because you’re never here!” Okay, this time you’re loud. You push him away and move towards the cabinets with the picture of you and Bucky cooking. You glare at the picture for a second then turn to look at him again, accusation and uncertainty flooding towards him. “You leave and you come back, and you don’t come home. I know that your job is demanding. I get that. That’s what you do, and I don’t want you to stop doing it because it’s who you are but when you’re not working at least for one day after you get back why can’t you just stay here? With me? I wake up and you’re gone. Sometimes I go to bed and you’re still not home. We go out and then we come back home, you leave again. You say that you want to be with me but everything that you do tells me that you don’t.”

He’s silent, staring at you with a wrinkled brow, that adorable pucker between his eyes not so adorable as you rage at him because of how you’ve been feeling. You need him to understand. Can you just say it? Maybe you should just say it?

“Sometimes…” You hesitate. You shake your head and convince yourself to not say it.

“What?” Bucky asks, closing the space between you again, and wraps his arms around your waist.

“No.” You pull away, but he tightens his hold and he keeps you facing him.

“Tell me. Please?”

“I-”

He pulls you closer and his body reminds you of what you’ve been missing and unfortunately what you’ve also been suspecting.

“Sometimes I think that maybe all I am to you is a guaranteed lay.” Your voice is almost dead as you say the words aloud. You never wanted to speak these words out and much less to Bucky himself. What if he confirms them? “You go away, and you come home, and you sleep with me and then you leave. Maybe I’m stupid for thinking it could be anything more than that since that’s how we started? Right? Sex in public before you even knew my name.

“That must be all I am. Spread legs whenever you need them and complacent silence when you leave?”

“No.” Bucky growls, suddenly pulling you into a crushing embrace. He reaches up and holds your head tenderly with his right hand while his left pulls you tight against his chest. “No, never think that, Y/N.”

The quiet that fills the apartment is deafening and you don’t wrap your arms around him. He holds you tighter, maybe feeling the distance you’re feeling because he’s almost desperate in how he clings to you.

“You’re more than a lay. Shit, Y/N, you’re all I think about when I’m gone.” He assures you and pulls back to cradle your face in his hands.

You look for the lie in his eyes but don’t find one. It brings you back to the pain you’ve been feeling, shoving the numbness away.

“Then, why?” You reach up and grab hold of his wrists as he holds your face. “Why do you always leave me? We could have done so much today. We could have gone to the park. Or the movies? Or the beach?”

A slight sting of guilt cuts you as you remember Henry’s offer but that memory sprinkles through your mind and vanishes quickly because Bucky is here, right in front of you, desperately clinging to what he thinks is a wife slipping through his fingers.

“I-I don’t know.” Bucky admits. “Yesterday I just…I-”

“You forgot about me?”

“No!” He says loud, deep booming voice starling you into jumping slightly. “I did not forget you, Y/N, I just forgot to look at the time. And last night you were so upset with me that when I woke up, I thought maybe you might not want to see me?”

“I always want to see you, Bucky. I don’t see you enough. Even when I’m angry at you I need to see you.” You sigh, frustrated with him. “Don’t you understand that when you aren’t with me all I can do is worry about you? I miss you. I want to be with you. You’re all I think about and for you to just leave me by myself especially when you’re here and you can choose to be with me but you don’t-?”

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else I can say except that I’m so, so sorry. I’m not setting out to make you feel like you’re not important. You are so important to me. Ask Steve! I’m day dreaming about being back here with you-”

“But you keep leaving!”

“I know!”

Now you’re both shouting.

You push his hands away and move around him, but he catches your wrist and pulls you back into the circle of his arms. You try to push him away, but he doesn’t let you go.

“My job-” He begins quietly.

“It’s not your job I’m talking about, Bucky.” You pull away from him and he lets you this time because you’re still shouting. “I already told you that I know your work is going to take you away from me. I’m not complaining about your work, I’m trying to understand why it is that when you aren’t on mission, you don’t seem to include me in your life? Maybe we did this too soon?”

“Did what?” He asks, anger flashing in his steel blue eyes turning them into ice.

“This. Us. Maybe we shouldn’t have gotten married so quickly?”

“How can you say that?” Bucky growls moving towards you, his hands cradling your face once more so that you can’t look away from him as he looks into your eyes, searching for the regret of marrying him.

He doesn’t find it. He won’t. No matter how much he searches because you will never regret telling him, ‘I do.’

“You don’t know how to fit me into your life, Bucky. And I can’t keep waiting for you in this apartment until you’re ready to see me. I feel like you don’t want me in your life, and you take absolutely no interest in mine. Is this what a marriage is supposed to be?”

Bucky sees that you’re right. He’s created this line in his life and kept you on one side of it and his Avenging and his friends on the other. Why did he do that? Why hasn’t he tried to take you and mingle you with the other half of his life? He’d been doing it a bit before the wedding but after the wedding it all just fell into two parts.

You were here, his perfect, beautiful, wife. You gave him a home and a family of the like he’d never expected to have. He loves you and he loves that you gave this life to him but how does he pair it with the one he leads at the compound?

He can’t see you around Sam’s snarky teasing or Steve’s serious focus when it comes to missions. He doesn’t want you to deal with Nat and her harsh observances or Vision’s lack of tact. He doesn’t want you exposed to anything that might hurt you but here he is, hurting you himself.

Then there’s your life. It’s true, Bucky doesn’t know what you do when he’s not home. He’s never thought about it because who cares? As long as you’re with him when he’s here, what does it matter what you do?

At least, it didn’t matter before today. Then he saw just how dangerous not only leaving you alone is but also how unexpectedly dumb he is to the possibilities of what your life might offer away from him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Who the fuck-?

Bucky slides back behind the wall into the doorway of the stairwell and hides, grabbing the knob to stop the door from shutting loudly. He peeks out and stares down the hall at a tall black man. He’s built like a house and he’s good looking. What the hell is he doing coming out of Bucky’s house?!

Then you appear in the doorway and Bucky’s mouth falls open because you know this guy. It’s so clear in the way you look at him that you know him. You’re also defensive, with your arms crossed tight across your chest. Did this guy hurt you? Bucky’ll kill him!

Instead he watches as the man turns to you with softness in his eyes. Fondness. What the hell is going on here?

“I don’t know what’s upset you. And I know you won’t tell me. I…I took that away from you. Our friendship.” Friendship? You’ve never told Bucky you have a friend who looks like that. What the hell?

“Henry…please don’t.” That tone…why are you so upset? Bucky doesn’t like that tone. It reminds him of…

“I need to say this.” The black man moves towards you, reaching to take hold of your arms just above the elbow. Bucky grits his teeth, squeezing his jaw so tight that his teeth creak and groan as he fights the urge to rush over to you and cut the man’s arms at the wrist so that he can never touch you again.

“I’m here, Y/N. I know that it might not be what it was but if you need to talk, or vent, or just not talk and spend a few hours doing something to get your mind off of whatever it is that’s bothering you—I’m here.”

Like fuck he is! Bucky thinks. What the hell would you two do for a few hours that would silence your mind?

Sex of course pops into Bucky’s head and he grabs the handle so tight with his left hand that it curves to the shape of his fingers.

“I will always be here for you. As your friend…or…whatever you might need?”

Bucky sees red and this time he takes a step out towards the hallway, intent on killing this guy because there was no question in what he meant. He’s offering you sex. Definitely. And from the hopeful tone he uses, love? Does that guy love you? Why? Who the hell is he? Why do you know him so well? Since when did you have a friend who looks like that?!

“Thanks.” Your voice stops Bucky and he quickly hides again. “But I’m fine.”

Bucky can hear it in just your voice that you aren’t okay. What has he done? Why would he leave you alone after what happened last night? He’s an idiot. He deserves to have you stolen from him for the way he’s been treating you.

The man—Henry?—seems to see this too because he just stares at you as you continue to look more and more uncomfortable.

Then he kisses your cheek and Bucky just about blacks out. Several scenarios play out in Bucky’s head. He could follow the man and pull him into an alleyway and strangle him to death. But that would be too quick.

Better to kidnap him, take him into that abandoned warehouse on the edge of town. Then he can starve him and cut at him for several hours. Maybe even days? Then he’ll sew his lips shut and slice them off just when he thinks that it can’t get any worse.

The violence of the images that flash through Bucky’s mind pull him from the haze. He hasn’t felt this way since his brainwashing, and he’s startled by the intensity of the emotions that brought it forth.

There is no doubt in Bucky’s mind—and there never has been but it’s so certain in him now—that he loves you more than even he might understand.

“I mean it. I’m here.” Bucky thanks God that this Henry leaves.

When you shut the door and go back inside, Bucky moves out and walks down the hall towards home.

As he passes him, he sees that Henry recognizes him, probably from the pictures in the apartment, and as much as Bucky wants to reach out and squeeze this Henry guy’s windpipe to crush it, he walks past him with his chest puffed and his eyes glaring death. It’s only when he knows that he’s gone that he shrinks and stares at the doorway for a few minutes hoping that he hasn’t done any kind of irreversible damage to your marriage.

~~~~~~~~~~

Unable to help himself any longer and since you’re the one that brought it up, he asks.

“Who was that guy I saw leaving?” He’s as gentle as he can be in his question. He doesn’t want you to see or hear the anger he felt when that idiot kissed you.

Your face loses all color and you look away from him to the curve of his neck.

“Henry. My boss.”

“That’s your boss?” Bucky demands, surprised and now cursing himself for never showing an interest in your work before today. He’s an idiot not only because now he knows there’s this dude, so clearly wanting you every day that he can’t be around, reminding you that if Bucky’s not there, then this guy surely is, but also because it took this kind of jealousy to make Bucky realize how little he knows about your life.

He understands what you’re saying now. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. The two of you should be living a life together. Not apart. How has he not seen this until now? Stupid hot Henry guy making Bucky all jealous.

It’s quiet between the two of you for several minutes. Bucky drops his hands, trailing them down the sides of your neck, along your shoulders, and then finally stops them on the sides of your arms. He squeezes them, relishing in the softness of your body.

So much of his life has been hard, cold, rough, sharp, and painful. You give him everything opposite; soft, warm, smooth, gentle, and love. So much love. Bucky needs to make this up to you, and he knows what the first step must be.

Bucky pulls you closer, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours as your hands trace the shape of his shoulder blades, straining and tense on his gray t-shirt.

“You’re right.” Bucky admits and your breath catches. “You’re so fucking right, and I’ve been so blind. I’m sorry. I haven’t been trying hard enough to build us a life together. I’m sorry I haven’t shown any interest in your work and the things that you do. This isn’t how it should be. You’re…you’re right, Y/N.”

You don’t want to hear that you’re right. That’s not why you’re angry.

“I don’t want to be right, Bucky. I just want you and me to be happy.”

You can see the pain flit through Bucky’s eyes at the implication that the two of you haven’t been happy.

Since that first problem you two faced with him calling you when he got home, small things have cropped up. Nothing serious. Small marks of irritation or annoyance as you two learn to live together. Bucky hates that you leave the dishes unwashed for a while. You hate how he doesn’t pick up his towels after he showers.

He complains about how you leave clean clothes piled on the chair in your bedroom instead of putting it up right away. Bucky doesn’t clean up his hair from the sink after he trims his beard. You don’t pick up your hair from the drain in the shower. Bucky forgets to put the toilet seat back down. You put your feet up on the coffee table. Bucky drinks straight from the carton of milk.

Small things piling up and making life just a little less easy.

But these aren’t the things that have made you unhappy. Though life is more real for the two of you now, the fact that you still feel like you’re living two lives is why you’re unhappy.

“I’ll do better. Next time we have a mission, I want you to come with me to the dinner we have afterwards.” Bucky promises and you feel bad because he’s not the only one that’s been messing up. Sure, he’s the one that’s been leaving you alone, but you should have spoken up much sooner.

“Really?” You ask, surprised and excited suddenly.

“Of course.”

“I’ll try harder too, baby. I’ll do better, too.”

“You’re perfect, Y/N.” Bucky insists, but you’re not.

“We’ve both been messing up. We’ll both do better. I love you. I don’t want to lose you.” You sigh, eager for this fight to be over. It does finally seem like Bucky gets it and that more than anything softens your anger.

“You won’t lose me, kitten. I’m not going anywhere.”

You lean up to kiss him because you need to feel his lips, but he pulls back and your heart clenches painfully.

“Hold that thought.” He smiles down at you and hurries back towards the door. When he comes back, he’s holding a bouquet of y/f/f.

You smile, heart fluttering. You really are too easy to woo. Some reassurance and an offering of flowers and you’re putty in his hands.

“I’d been waiting for a bit and I thought maybe I’d need some backup to apologize so I went out and got you these. Should I have got you a necklace instead?”

You laugh lightly and nod. “They’re beautiful, Bucky. This is perfect.”

When he offers them, you take them, and smell them before leaning back up towards his lips. Bucky pulls back again and this time you frown.

“Bucky…”

“It’s just, what you said-I don’t only want you for sex, Y/N. I need you to know that.”

“Ugh, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you about that. It was a fleeting thought after we had sex and you left the next morning to workout with Sam and Steve. It was a flash of a worry and then it was gone.”

“But it was still there. I love you, so much. Not just your body.”

You reach over and put your flowers on the counter as you move in close to press your body against Bucky’s. He looks down at you, intense and confused.

“But you do love my body, right?” You slide your hands up under his shirt, tracing your hands along the hot skin of his sides.

His eyebrows twitch upwards at your touch.

“Of course, I love your body.” He assures you. “But I love you too.”

“Okay. I get that, but right now, I need you to show me how much you love my body.” You explain. “It’s been a week, Bucky. I’ve missed you so much.”

There’s a groan in your voice as your hands move up along his bare back. They go about hallway up before they drop down to the small of his back and you slip the tips of your fingers down into the waistband of his jeans.

The curve of his bum is sudden and deep. He has a really nice butt. You trace it down, touching him with desire.

“You’re not angry anymore?” He asks, but his hands are already on your waist, slipping the strings of the apron you’re wearing off. He reaches under your puffed sleeve yellow top and traces the skin of your back, all the way up to the center drawing you closer.

You shake your head slow and mid-shake, Bucky dives down to meet your lips.

He swallows your sigh and you inhale his groan. Both of you melting into the other after such an exhausting fight. He pushes you back until you hit the counter and then he reaches down to lift you up by your waist and sit you on the cold tile.

He undoes the buttons of your dark gray; lace tiered shorts and you lift your butt as he tugs them down and off. He tosses them over the counter and into the dining room quickly followed by your underwear. He nudges your legs open and settles between them, with his right hand searching your folds for your nub.

You’re already dripping wet, having missed him in his absence and wanting nothing more than to have him touch you.

You shudder at his prodding and when he slips two fingers into you, you gasp and lean forward towards him. He wraps his left arm around you, catching you in a kiss as he pumps his fingers in and out while his palm presses hard against your nub.

His kiss slowly shifts and somewhere between finger pumps, he deepens it with feeling rather than lust.

You pull back, surprised and breathless by the shift because you can feel it in your chest. You can feel the ache of confusion and he doesn’t let you get far. He pulls his fingers from your core and lifts you from the counter.

He stares into your eyes as he carries you to the bedroom then lowers you onto the bed. You fall with a small bounce, but you watch as Bucky strips himself naked. There are bruises on his torso and you sit up, startled by the wounds you hadn’t found yesterday because you hadn’t been looking for them. You’d been so wrapped up in your feelings of neglect that you hadn’t noticed his hurt.

“Oh, Bucky…” There’s a gash along his left side, a faded pink puckered line. You know it’ll be gone by tomorrow but the thought of the cut that had been there before it sealed. The blood he must have lost and the sharp pain he must have felt?

“I’m okay.” He assures you then as you look up at him, still tracing the scar, he kisses you breathing you in as he opens his mouth to deepen it.

You shut your eyes as he hooks his hands into the bottom of your shirt, and he relieves you of it. Your breasts are freed shortly after and Bucky pushes you back to crawl over you. He reaches down to pull your legs apart, settling between them once more but this time sliding into you without warning.

You go still beneath him, your mouth open in a silent gasp as he stretches you. He watches you, enjoying the expression of surprise, pleasure, relief, and love you’re giving him.

Pushing your hair back, he bites his bottom lip as he begins to pump in and out of you, burying himself as deeply as he can. He blinks slowly, never breaking eye contact.

You see what he’s doing. What he’s saying. As your body jerks upwards, bouncing against the bed, he’s telling you that he loves you.

You don’t know why it happens now, maybe it’s because of the fight? Or the sheer intensity of his gaze? Maybe it’s because he’s still cradling your face, staring at you as if he’s already lost you and he’s just now realizing how much he loves you, but you start to cry.

“Oh, Y/N…” Bucky sighs, leaning down to lay on you completely as he wraps you up in his arms and his lips find yours to kiss you with feeling.

He moves slowly, his hips moving in soft waves as he pushes himself into you. Every time he bottoms out, his pelvis rubs against yours, pressing your button just right to draw a small moan from your lips. He’s like water in his movements, smooth and flowing.

This isn’t the sex that you two have when it’s lust that drives you forward. You had never been able to really tell the difference between making love and having sex. Not until you met Bucky. The first time this had happened after your fight about calling home, it had been similar but nothing like this.

The way he’s holding you against himself, clinging to you as he marks you as his, something’s changed.

He pulls up, tracing kisses along your jaw and neck before stopping beside your ear. “I love you.”

His whisper is warm and smooth. The flutter in your heart and the stretch of his cock war for dominance in importance. Together, they make your body hum.

“Bucky…Bucky…” You moan, sweet whispers as he takes you closer and closer to ecstasy.

His hips begin to move faster, he groans, pushing himself up as he angles himself to pound into you a bit more roughly. Despite the pace, his hands are soft, feather touches against your skin as he traces the shape of your breasts and then your ribs with the tender tips of his fingers.

His touch raises goosebumps and you whimper raising your knees and reaching down to grab handfuls of his bum to press him down harder against you.

“Tell me, baby.” He coaxes your desires forth, wanting to hear how much you want him just as much as you want to feel it. “Say it.”

“Harder, Bucky.” You plead, begging for contact. “I want you in deep.”

Your words make him growl and he leans down on his forearm as his metal hand reaches down to take hold of the right side of your ass. He holds it still as he shoves himself into you, roughly pounding into your nub.

You shut your eyes, your hands wandering up to his lower back as his movements become quick and wild.

“I love you so much.” Bucky gushes. “Come for me, kitten.”

You’re not sure whether it’s his declaration of love or the way he’s talking dirty—well, dirty for you, but your legs suddenly wrap around his waist and you pull him flush against your core as it explodes with fire and sparks.

Your head goes dizzy, whirling the world around you into fog.

Bucky keeps thrusting. Just a few more times before he groans and drops his head to your neck. He bites down, making you purr, as he erupts within you.

Ragged breathing, musty sex, and the fresh scent of soap fill the room. Sweating together, you cling to each other, desperate to hold on to this moment of bliss after the terrible low of your fight in the kitchen.

But reality comes crashing down as you wonder if you both forgot or just you? How could you let all the emotions get in the way of this one thing that you had sworn to keep in mind before you and Bucky had sex each time?

Bucky pulls out of you reluctantly and slides to the edge of the bed. You see him fumble between his legs as he pulls off the condom and tosses it into the wastebasket by his bedside table and a wave of relief washes over you.

For a moment you’d thought both of you had forgotten protection. Relaxed, you sigh. “Bucky?”

You reach for him, your fingers sliding along his lower back. He looks back at you and lays back down, turning to hover half over you and half on the bed. He kisses you lazily, still wrapped in the warm glow of his orgasm like you are.

“Tell me about your day.” Bucky says. “Why did your boss come here?”

You smile because you know he’s doing what he promised. It’s easy to do it right away, just after you had a fight about it. He’s taking interest in your life. Hopefully he’ll continue to do it when things are busier and time has passed.

“He was helping me carry the box on the dining room table home. It was heavy.”

“You should have called me.” Bucky argues lightly.

“I should have.” Yes. You really should have.

“What’s in the box?”

“Manuscripts. People send them in for publishing and I have to pick one to publish for the next Spring release. I’ll choose one in the next few weeks and then we’ll have the author come in to do edits. Then eventually we’ll publish it.” Bucky’s eyes sparkle with interest.

“Don’t agents have to send the manuscripts in? Or can anyone send them in?”

“Normally yeah, it’s agents. But we’re still a growing publisher so we take what we can get. If we ever get really big then maybe we’ll start to do it that way but if I’m honest, I like it this way.”

“Why?”

You shrug. “Because this way, I get to truly know the author. I call them. I talk to them. I set everything up. I get to see why they’re writing. What they want from it. I see the passion for what they do or lack thereof. It’s eye opening. Some people do it for the money which almost always means a shallow story. Some people do it because they really enjoy writing. Fusing words together in unique and beautiful ways. And others…my favorites…are the ones that like to tell stories.

“They’re not weighed down by the idea of perfect grammar or amazing prose.”

“Isn’t that important though?” Bucky wonders, relaxing beside you. You turn to look at him as he settles in, head on his pillow.

“Of course, you want to see that a writer has taken time to go back and fix things. Misspelled words are okay and sentence structure has always been flexible for me so long as it benefits the story, but when I read that first manuscript, I’m looking for a spark. A good story. Something people want to read. I’ve read some stories that are beautifully written that aren’t very interesting. Every once in a while, I find someone who’s good at what makes the writing pretty and also good at telling the story. But it doesn’t happen often.”

“Sounds like you love your job.” Bucky realizes, a small worry in his eyes.

“I really do.”

Speaking of jobs. On your bedside table, where Bucky’s phone is charging, it suddenly begins to ring.

You know that ringtone.

Bucky pushes himself up and rolls over you to reach for his phone. As he stretches towards it, you quickly react, and grab hold of his right wrist.

He looks down at you, slightly startled by your hold.

“Bucky,” You start, chewing your bottom lip. “Don’t answer it.”

Bucky stares at you then looks up towards his phone as it stops ringing and then shuts off. He meets your eyes again and slides his hand down until he can intertwine your hands together. He pulls both of your arms up over your head as he dips down to meet your lips in a clearly lustful kiss.

He reaches over, closer to his side of the bed than yours, and takes another metallic silver package in hand so that he can pound you into the bed once more.

You’d fallen asleep in Bucky’s arms, clinging to his strong torso, nestled in the nook between his metal arm and his side. He’s breathing heavily, fast asleep, and you’re only awake because you swear you just heard knocking.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

There it is again. Your eyes open a bit wider as you look up towards your bedroom door.

No. You think because you know what that is.

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP.

Bucky shifts beside you, sitting upright, startled by the knocking. You’re already awake and you sit up with him.

He looks down at you, sleepy but happy to see you there.

Like instinct he leans down to kiss you, forgetting the knocking on the door, as if he needs to make sure you’re really there.

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! “Buck!”

You groan and when Bucky pulls back, you whine. “No.”

Bucky sighs, hating to leave the bed but he does get up. He pulls on a pair of sweats then makes for the door. You rush to get to your feet, pulling your gray robe on. You quickly fasten it as you follow him but stop at the mouth of the hallway to glance towards the front door as Bucky pulls it open.

Sure enough, just as you’d first suspected the day after your wedding, if Bucky didn’t answer the phone then Steve would surely come and get him.

Here’s the proof that you were right. There’s Steve, looking serious, in full uniform.

“What is it, Steve?”

“We found him. I think we finally found him, Buck.”

Bucky’s relaxed body quickly shifts into mission mode and though you would normally admire the tight pull of his back muscles, the tension there means he’s already decided.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. We need you.”

“Give me five minutes.” Bucky leaves the door open for Steve to come in as he moves back towards you.

As he passes you, he gives you a quick look of apology as he caresses the right side of your face with his metal hand. You reach up to clutch it there but there is no holding him back when he’s decided to go.

He disappears back into your bedroom and you turn to give Steve a nice hateful glare.

How surprised had your neighbors been to spot Captain America walking up the stairs?

“Sorry, Y/N.” Steve apologizes, and it sounds like he means it.

You continue to frown as you move after Bucky and find him already dressed in his black Avengers garb. The spare that he keeps in the closet in case he should need it. It makes you feel better to see him at least appropriately armored but at the same time, you just want to keep him here with you.

He shoves a few more things into his duffel bag, reaches up to tie his hair up into a loose low bun, then after a minute he reaches into his duffel and pulls out a handgun. He places it on your bedside table.

You know that handgun. It’s the one he cleans on the dining room table. It’s got his name, Barnes, etched into the grip. It’s his favorite handgun.

“You keep that there. Steve is such an idiot, coming here wearing full uniform.” And you’re surprised at how angry Bucky sounds as he says Steve’s name.

“Why is he-?”

“Anyone who saw him walk in here will know that someone important lives here now. And when they see me walk out with him, it won’t be hard to guess who.”

You think back to the first week after you were married. News and internet articles had sprung up with stories about Bucky getting married. Everyone knew that he had a wife though no one knew who it was. They didn’t know where you lived with him, but they knew that somewhere out in the world there was a woman who’d married James Buchanan Barnes. Someone he loved.

Although the public still avoided Bucky, they gave him his space because he was—to some of them—still the Winter Soldier, they feared him. But Captain America? There would be pictures of him surfacing from this building within the hour.

“Why do I need the gun though?” You look at it, uncomfortable and worried about having to use it.

“I’ve been an idiot for not getting you ready for this possibility before. When I get back you and I are going to start training a bit. I’ll show you how to fight and how to shoot.” Bucky closes his duffel bag and throws it over his shoulder.

You’re too busy staring at the gun, suddenly terrified about someone showing up here to pick a fight with Bucky to find you alone.

Bucky’s in front of you, arms wrapped around you as he pulls you close. “You’re safe, here, Y/N. I’ll ask Tony if he can send someone to tighten up the security. Make it harder for someone to break in. The gun is just in case someone happens to get in. You point, hold the gun with both hands, Y/N, and squeeze the trigger. Don’t pull it. And don’t you dare close your eyes. You keep them wide open when you fire. Aim and shoot.”

“Bucky…” You’re suddenly scared of being here without him.

“I’m sorry I have to go so soon.” He sighs and pulls you into a mind-numbing kiss. When he pulls back, you’re breathless but your mind is alert and worried.

“Please be safe.” You beg. “I need you to come back to me, Bucky.”

“How can I do anything but come back to you when I’ve got such a beautiful and loving woman waiting for me?”

He hugs you, holding you tenderly to his chest as he tells you without words how much he doesn’t want to go either.

“I love you. And I’m so sorry I’ve been such an ass.”

“I love you.” You whisper back at him.

Bucky pulls away but takes your hand and walks with you into the living room. Steve gets to his feet and moves for the door.

“Sorry this is such a quick visit, Y/N.” Steve says.

“I hate you.” You tell him and Bucky smiles while Steve turns around just outside the door and looks offended.

“What did I do?”

You ignore him as Bucky stops at the door and turns to give you one last kiss. “Lock the door.”

After he and Steve are out of sight you shut the door and do it.

Thanks for reading!

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chitose-art · 4 years ago

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A entitled mother wants to force me to marry her son and disrespects me. She ends up scared.

Good morning to all.

I'll explain my first direct encounter with a entitled mother. I'd seen entitled people before, but I'd never faced a person until this case. The story takes place more or less a week before confinement in Spain (March 9); a few weeks before I turning 21. It's transcribed from a WhatsApp audio that I sent to an acquaintance who knows about my relationship.

I don't consider myself a very pretty girl, in fact quite normal, but yes striking for my style. It's like a combination between goth and when Edward Scissorhands was put on a shirt and pants with suspenders. Only with long hair (around 70 cm, measuring 1'69), green eyes with dark circles, a murderous glance and a Slavic face, although not a model.

That day I went out with my partner to have a drink in some bar. We don't usually do it because of the age difference and because it would look bad in his work (he's a high school and -in my case when I was a student- baccalaureate teacher. He's a good teacher and many students love him, while he has coworkers who hate him and would take advantage of any excuse).

We sat for half an hour on the terrace of an almost empty cafe drinking coffee, and at some point a man came towards us. I'd seen him walk past next us with a woman (his mother), and sit on the same terrace, right in front of me with several separation tables. He stood in front of us, looking at us.

I looked at my partner, thinking that maybe he was a graduate student of his. I couldn't say if he would be older than me; he was tall and big, he even had a short beard, but I've met guys like him who seem to be 25 but 16 years old.

P - Partner.

MS - Man, son of EM.

EM - Entitled Mother.

P: Is something wrong, boy?

MS, after waking up from a kind of trance: Oh, hi. I would like to take advantage of the opportunity and ask your daughter to go out -he looks at me and I put my "if you come closer you will be left without an arm" gaze-. I would like to exchange numbers... and that, maybe meet someday.

I was a little surprised, but I was funny about "asking your daughter out." I looked at my partner and he gave me a look that I should answer and, besides, he was also laughing and needed to see how it went on.

Me: Ehm... No.

MS: What? Why?

Me, trying not to frown: Because not, I don't need an explanation.

MS: But -then he looked at my partner and muttered before going back to his table-... Okay.

I don't like that they enter me, but if they're kind it's bearable. And I could still say the couple of balls you must have to ask a girl who goes with her "father" for that, the problem is when they start to insist or sound desperate.

The man returned to his table and my partner was joking a little about what had just happened, but soon we returned to the topic of conversation. Occasionally I noticed something strange at the other table and when I took a look, it seemed to me that the mother was looking towards us, but I thought it was my imagination. About fifteen minutes later, my partner came in to pay (I like to pay mine, but he always insists) and I took the opportunity to quickly see my mobile's notifications. Then, I heard a kind of sigh-growl.

Next to the chair he occupied, was that short woman, possibly over the age of 40 and (incredibly similar to the "Karen" stereotype) with short blond hair, pulled back into a small ponytail.

EM: Why have you rejected my son? -A bit confused, I looked around looking for that boy, but he was nowhere-.

Me: Sorry, what did you say?

EM in a tone of theatrical superiority, with its separations between words: Why have you rejected my son? He has come very politely to ask you if you would be his girlfriend and you have rejected him.

Me: Not really, he asked me to go out and I said no. I don't even know who you are.

EM: Did you not understand? He has bothered going here to ask if you would be his girlfriend. You could have a little respect for him.

Me: Well, I didn't hit him, I just rejected him.

EM: Right, sure. I have seen how you have been laughing at him. Surely it was your father who said to reject him.

(Actually, I don't know what conclusion they draw that my partner is my father. We aren't physically alike.)

Me: No one can decide who I date. Also, I already have a partner, he's... -I looked inside the cafe, but he was not there, so I assumed he went to the bathroom-.

EM: I have been looking at you, you would be a good wife, my son is a good man. Surely that boyfriend of yours doesn't exist, you just made it up.

Me, getting up to start leaving: Ma'am, I don't know you. Stop bothering me. If your son is looking for a girlfriend, download Tinder or some of that shit.

EM: How dare you disrespect (I don't know if she refers to herself or her son)!? So from those pervert pages you get all your boyfriends?

I don't know what my face should be like at the time, I was about to laugh all over his face. Besides, surely many people were watching us as they passed: Ma'am, leave it now.

M: Not until you accept my son. He will educate you to be a good wife. I want grandchildren...

Well, that's when I saw my partner come out of the cafe and walk over to me while taking out a cigarette.

P: New friend?

Me: No...

EM: Sir! I know you told this one to reject my son.

P: What?

EM: But I won't allow disrespect for my son or me. Besides being ill-educated, she's a cheeky one; she has confessed that she is dating several men at once from those pervert pages.

P: Yes? -He eyed me suggestively as he tried to hold back his laughter-. Don't tell me.

EM: Yes, I have reason to believe that she have been bringing men into your home and charging for it.

I was freaking out at that point, my partner opened his eyes wide in surprise as the mother crossed her arms looking at me with a superior smile. He looked at me and hugged me around the waist.

P: Wow, don't tell me it's just the price of coffee? Or do I have a discount?

I slapped him on the chest as I put an arm around his shoulders and giggled: It also discounts the times I spend at your house, the movies, the books and the perfume you wear.

We kiss quickly, but not as much as that mother changing skin tone and expression. Her skin paled almost like mine, and her face was between awe and dread so great that she could barely scream before turning and leaving quickly.

We also left. Not that we will attract more attention.

#entitled mother #entitled #entitled parents #son #boyfriend #partner #age difference #21 #good ending #experience #snape memes

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jedimusings · 5 years ago

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post event wanted connections & general plotting call!

hello! after telling everyone for a whole week that i have a list of wanted connections coming, i finally have it done! below are connections that i am really interested in having for my characters moving forward post-event and would love to discuss if you’re even slightly interested but unsure if you have a character to fit it. i can be found on discord or here through dms.

also if you fav this i’m probably going to come bother you regardless!!!!

Aayla Secura

workout friend: what began as two friends who met working out in the gym, has now become two people who genuinely enjoy one another's company while doing activities (biking, running, rock wall climbing, etc).

grief support group member: after some reflection, aayla’s going to start going to a support group to talk through a lot of the loss that she’s been through. this muse would be a person she’s met at that group and will likely come to know a lot of her very private business.

Ben Skywalker

i’m always looking for close friends for ben tbh. he can be a lot at times but at the end of the day he’s a pretty good kid.

Caradoc Dearborn*

friends from hogwarts/the order (self explanatory)

other parents with young children

coworkers (doc works at a hospital, for reference)

regular friends that he met in dc (this could have been through his wife, from his time going to school, etc.)

*Doc’s connections are all open to multiple connections.

Del Meeko

employee/intern: del runs a shop where he draws up plans and creates various engineering things. If your character is: handy with tools, computers, whatever, they could probably come work for del. he is sort of hiring anyone that’s in this line of work AND has proven their worth so, come join the madness at Del’s Workshop!!! (open to multiple muses)

taken in under his wing: this is just in his nature to do? this could be either a pseudo-sibling relationship. this connection could also look like someone fairly new to dc who just needs a friend / dc tour guide when things and life get messy. (open to multiple muses)

casual reminder that by the way del, you were a stormtrooper: if your star wars character is in a shitty mood or loves to ruin people’s days in general, remind del that he voluntarily became a storm trooper and worked for the empire for all of his adult life.

Ezra Bridger

friend from college: ezra is actually considering going to school and getting a degree in something (this is a secret that he hasn’t told anyone) and would likely be walking around campus/on a tour and would talk to your muse about it. this would likely become a friendship or somethin’ who is to say?

friend from yesteryear*: so basically, ezra used to get into a lot of mischief before regaining his memories about a month and a half ago. since then, he’s unintentionally ignored this person.

*this also has potential for another plot point that i’m still exploring and not ready to type out just yet.

Mai

fake relationship: this is open to anyone of status (wealth, political, any sort of upper-class status or socially on the rise) that is in the proper age range for mai 21-26. basically, this is kind of a PR relationship ( i have a few ideas for this and where it can go so if interested please hit me up if interest).

a sort-of actual friend: so mai is exceedingly private and intentionally closed off. she doesn’t have many actual friends that she enjoys being around so this would be a nice change up and we can plot how they met and what not. maybe they met in class or something?

art gallery tour: so mai works part time at some swanky art gallery that her parent’s friend owns. she really does not like it, but being forced to show someone around would further establish in her development how much she dislikes that role.

kids of other politicians: kind of self explanatory, could be fun *shoulder shrug*

Percy Weasley

a non wizarding world friend: percy’s met a lot of people who have told him about his relationship to them, but i think it would be nice for percy to make a friend as this nonrembering version of percy.

Romeo Montague

an actual, failed relationship: so this relationship was probably romeo’s longest. have you seen that post that went around twitter that was like “happy mother’s day to any man’s first six girlfriends?” yeah..that applies HEAVILY to this connection. I have some ideas for this and am here to say that he was not necessarily the one who ended this. the breakup happened at least four or five months ago and could have last anywhere from six months to a year and a half.

a scorned ex: in the past, romeo would date a girl for a month and then unceremoniously dump her or ghost altogether. (this connection is open to multiple people & i’m sorry in advance).

school friend: romeo majors in english and until recently never took classes or school seriously, so this friend is probably one of his few actual friends that he has made while at school.

Sabé Tsabin

a love interest: everybody deserves love, okay (open to men and women)

a roommate: (self-explanatory)

surrogate siblings: sabe is very maternal and just..constantly looking out for everyone already? so she’s probably taken several people in under her wing since she’s been in washington. (open to multiple muses)

Theo Nott

political frenemy: this is a person that theo works closely with in politics, but their relationship is both good and bad. they rival one another in being known as strategic and somewhat ruthless in their line of work. they know that they can rely on one another to get the job done. but also their own ambitions keep them from truly teaming up.

white house coworkers: after a couple of years toiling in the senate, theo was recently hired by president organa to work on policy / be a “fixer”. theo can be very off putting so i just think it would be interesting to put him in an environment where he is new and still meeting people. (open to multiple muses)

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punkscowardschampions · 5 years ago

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Janis & Jimmy

Janis: Hey Janis: you alright? Jimmy: Are you? Janis: Obviously stressing over what to wear for community service 😱😱 Janis: nah, just the standard bullshit though, nothing unexpected or that I can't handle Jimmy: that's a good shout, I heard there's gonna be a dickhead there with a 📷 and nowt to do cos he's too 😎🚬 to do what he's told Janis: Oh God, sounds like the worst Janis: 👍 for the warning, mate Jimmy: 👍 Janis: Go on then, answer for an answer Jimmy: what are you asking? Janis: I've already asked, are you alright? Jimmy: I ain't 😭 over picking up litter, clean tables every day, me Janis: 'course Janis: 💕 it so much you wanna do it for free, right Jimmy: The CG's wage ain't nowt to write up north about Jimmy: 💔💰🎻 Janis: I'm glad you've not got a family back home you're tryna support with coffee beans Janis: might make me almost feel bad, and I can't give my family the satisfaction so fuck you, like Jimmy: that you know of Jimmy: could have a 👶 in every mine Jimmy: fit as well as mysterious, like Janis: No one is fit enough they need to reproduce on an already overpopulated planet Janis: not even you, new boy 🤷 Jimmy: never said they were wanted 👶 Jimmy: in that part of the country, who isn't an unloved bastard Jimmy: 🗬🖋 Janis: obviously Janis: in this country we had to go to yours to really do fuck all about it for 50 odd years Janis: and who wants to go to Liverpool, honestly 🤢 Janis: least if you drag it up might contribute to your funds eventually Jimmy: You don't wanna go dig up that one band they're a bit famous for then? Jimmy: proper pissed on my #datenight plans that Janis: had enough ✌ & 💕 to last a lifetime, soz Janis: photoshop me in Jimmy: but have you had enough 👻🥊? Jimmy: think on, dickhead Janis: plenty 'round here for that Janis: though too many memebers of my family are still unfortunately living so Jimmy: UGH you NEVER wanna do the things I WANNA DO!! 😣😣 Janis: 😏 fine, jump bail with me and smuggle aboard the next ferry Janis: if you're gonna be a nag, like Jimmy: now you're 🗨 Jimmy: won't have to swap you for Asia for a bit Janis: Get her to guess the band, that'd be insightful Jimmy: 😂 Jimmy: Get her to do your community service, might get hit by a car or kidnapped by the twat driving long as he's got 🍬 Janis: Your attempt to get to spend more time with her is blatant Janis: 💔 she didn't show to your party, Gatsby? Jimmy: I'm just so 😍😍😍😍 soz mate Jimmy: and yeah tah for the salt in my wounds Janis: Poor boy Janis: 'least her boyfriend didn't shoot you, swings and roundabouts Jimmy: why you saying that like it's a good thing? Jimmy: born ready to ⚰ Janis: he'd not shoot me Janis: 😇 that I am Janis: wouldn't be fair Jimmy: he'd probably miss, any road Jimmy: leave me with a scar that does nowt but make me more fit and more mysterious Janis: 🙄 see, a good thing Janis: no one needs that, least of all you, so shy and retiring really, yeah Jimmy: ✔ Janis: don't you leave me on read, dickead Jimmy: or what? Janis: I won't send you a postcard when I get to where I'm really going Jimmy: 💔 Jimmy: but gonna be I'm #living for the picture on the front Janis: Wish you were here has never been faker Jimmy: 💕 Janis: Wonder who grassed Jimmy: 💰 on 💀👑 Janis: Not a bet I'd take on 'cos probably Jimmy: that or your 🤵💍 wasn't as into 💔 as he reckoned he would be Jimmy: soz sir Janis: married to the job Janis: shoulda known Janis: not his school, like Jimmy: not like I fucked you on his desk, he got off way easier than he were 🗬🤤 Janis: All talk Janis: like all lads Jimmy: Oi Janis: Would you like me to tell you you're different Janis: you don't say much so it isn't untrue, on that count Jimmy: you've only got the one job, rich girl, do you seriously need me to tell you how to do it? Janis: I shouldn't put community service on my LinkedIn? 🤔 Janis: damn Jimmy: gutting I know Jimmy: you'll look proper fit in the jumpsuit an' all, all that possible promo just pissed up the wall Janis: shut up Janis: shit, I didn't ask Janis: what is gonna happen with your actual job? Janis: could you make the hours work without needing to let on to them or what Jimmy: it'll get out Jimmy: more 💰 on 💀👑 Janis: Time how long it takes her to be in your inbox with the 🖤mail Janis: make you her personal bitchboy for life Janis: ugh Jimmy: I'll just tell 'em, either they'll want me to do my shifts round it or they won't Janis: yeah Janis: sorry Jimmy: for what? Janis: if you get sacked Jimmy: dickheads need lattes all over town Janis: true Janis: shame if you don't even get a reference out of the experience though Jimmy: not sure I want one from a knobhead who's never there and reckons my name's Jamie though Janis: still devastated Janis: but not about me, being supportive Jimmy: he could be my fall guy, weren't me it were all him, shady twat Jimmy: never even set foot in a school, me Janis: Get your coworker to alibi Jimmy: he'd obvs only do it if you asked him Jimmy: like owt else Janis: don't do yourself down, babe Janis: he specifically said you seem like 'a chill guy' Jimmy: I were dragging you down if I were doing owt, babe Jimmy: but alright Janis: yeah well you've called me a slag before Janis: not news Jimmy: Have I? Jimmy: don't sound like me that Jimmy: always keep it #goals Janis: yeah, you weren't being very 'chill' either Janis: but he don't have to know Jimmy: #whenshekeepsyoursecrets Janis: every battered wife knows the drill Jimmy: @iantaylor8 Jimmy: 🤞 lad Janis: wouldn't worry, 🐷 do fuck all 'cept protect one of their own Janis: #ladsladslads Jimmy: @ my other co-workers Jimmy: been busted lads Janis: brothers in brews Janis: such a strong bond Janis: 🤞 Jimmy: making me emotional tbh Jimmy: 👮🚔💕 Janis: gotta beat real siblings, like Jimmy: speaking of, you reckon they'll let me take the 🐕 with me? Save me a job Janis: Worth asking Jimmy: 👍 Janis: I've gotta beg the speakers back from 'em so Janis: class first impressions Jimmy: I'll do it, soft lad is obvs the first impression I make as standard Janis: you saying you can bat your eyelashes better than me? Jimmy: duh Jimmy: mine are well longer than yours Janis: fuck off Jimmy: 📏 matters, Janet Janis: you'd know, fat bitch Jimmy: 😱😱😱😱 Jimmy: just 'cause I've got better tits than you, no need to start a scrap Janis: Tits don't count if you only got 'em 'cos you're obese Janis: ask your girlfriend Jimmy: I will Jimmy: properly miss her so any excuse for a 🗨 Janis: you deserve each other, truly Jimmy: Tah, my dear Janis: so you'll be pleased to know you'll be spending less time with me from now on Jimmy: why? Janis: my parents have really leaned into the narrative and have decided you're the enemy Jimmy: Bill's 👻 must've had a word Janis: Yeah Janis: might've mentioned the joyride just to really fuck 'em off and all Jimmy: You wanna call things off then? Jimmy: it weren't part of the plan, them getting Shakespearean about it Janis: nah, fuck that Janis: they'd be doing it regardless, decided they should finally give the whole parenting thing a go Janis: just saying the story can be we're being cruelly kept apart Janis: not that I'm planning to stay locked in my fucking tower actually, already made my first break so Jimmy: Alright Janis: sound more buzzing you don't have to see me, could you Jimmy: 😁😆😄 Jimmy: there you go Janis: 💕 Janis: so sweet Janis: I won't shout about my MIA status, wouldn't be #goals for you to not know where I am Jimmy: do owt for you, you know it and it's obvs vice versa Jimmy: you just proved it there Janis: 'course Janis: will say it was me and hot barista that planned it all if you need Jimmy: bollocks are you taking credit for my idea Janis: I did the heavy work Jimmy: Piss off Jimmy: that's the fakest thing you've ever tried to make sound real Janis: excuse me Jimmy: you heard Janis: don't chat shit Janis: We both pulled it off but we can throw him under the 🚎 Janis: you've already taken Jamie away from me Janis: what's the point now Janis: save yourself Jimmy: shut up Janis: do you love him? Jimmy: Do you? Janis: yeah Janis: one convo and bam Janis: actually that 😍 bitch Jimmy: 💔 Jimmy: I'll see myself out Janis: 'til 💀 do us part, dickhead Jimmy: that'll be you and Mr Lucas Jimmy: I'd remember if I'd been down on one knee Janis: me too Janis: so hard done by Janis: 💔 Jimmy: 🎻🎻🎻 Janis: you cool with being done that dirty Janis: 📏 counts for shit when you lack enthusiasm Jimmy: ain't the first time Janis: shh Janis: don't need to know how often you were down on your knees, tah Jimmy: that don't bode well for our insta q&a Janis: fake rock my world some more then Janis: selfish Jimmy: I'll climb to the top of your white tower any time, girl Jimmy: you're the one MIA Janis: Only at night Janis: gotta be up bright and early for our date 💕 Jimmy: I don't think fucking on a pile of rubbish we've just collected would be considered very #goals but I'll give it a 🥇 spin Janis: there's no way 'round how unapproved all this criminal activity is Janis: still worth it Jimmy: Dunno about you but I'm 👏🏆 in every DM Jimmy: that 😎🚬 rep been set proper in stone now Janis: Lucky you Janis: I've been too busy getting lectured Jimmy: poor baby Janis: I know Jimmy: What can I do to make you feel better? Janis: down you go Jimmy: Alright Janis: I don't know though Jimmy: ⏲ Janis: You in a rush too? Jimmy: Got loads of other girlfriends to 👀 Janis: how many fakes one though Jimmy: That'd be telling Janis: so go on Jimmy: Why would I? Janis: have multiple fake girlfriends or tell me about the others Jimmy: Well? Janis: you could get them all to do different shit for you Janis: potential there Janis: idk why you wouldn't tell me if you did though, not like it'd fake break my heart Jimmy: There's your answer then Jimmy: not gonna give away secrets you don't give a shit about hearing Jimmy: what kind of power move Janis: You want to fake break my heart Jimmy: Why would I wanna go off script? Jimmy: The plan is you break mine Janis: I know Janis: not likely to forget what we're doing here Jimmy: Don't forget to tell me how to make you feel better then Jimmy: it's obvs all I'm breathing for Janis: just as obvs I don't really care about any of the Drama™ Janis: as long as I've got you Jimmy: 💕 Janis: just as obvs that I wanna know where you are 'cos I'm bored and dunno where to go or what to do Jimmy: [sends her a pic of him at the park by his house like oh hey] Janis: 😍 Janis: obvious, if the dog isn't with you then I'm not really interested Jimmy: [a pic of Twix because of course] Janis: colour me convinced Janis: we should probably show the fans a united front anyway right Janis: not turned on each other soon as the law got involved, like Jimmy: 🖌☻ Jimmy: not racist if it's your happy colour, right? Janis: 😂 Janis: it's NOT a free pass but Janis: not mad about it, don't tell Jimmy: 😅😅 Janis: it was alright though Janis: the party Janis: aside from doing what we set out to achieve Jimmy: Yeah Jimmy: I might throw another one Jimmy: maybe it'll be my rep next place I end up Janis: 🦋 Jimmy: 🤡 probably getting closer Janis: no fit and mysterious but Janis: maybe the next place will have less cunts Jimmy: could be fit and murderous Jimmy: 🤡🔪🔪 Janis: 🙏 Janis: keep my 👀 on the news Jimmy: I'll give you a shoutout, baby Jimmy: write your name in blood or something Janis: Carve it in a victim so I know you remember it 💘 Janis: 🤤🤤 Jimmy: like I said, owt for you, Jules Janis: Thanks Janis: just tell me when you're gonna murder-suicide Janis: can't stay dying here forever Jimmy: I promise Janis: Good Janis: 💀💕 Jimmy: 👻💕 Janis: gonna have to get as far out of this place as I can before I go Janis: refuse to be stuck haunting this shithole for eternity Jimmy: #same Jimmy: though I dunno where's gonna be any different Janis: anywhere you don't know anyone and they don't know you Janis: I reckon Jimmy: that's here for me Jimmy: still don't 💕 it Janis: you'll have to go back home then? Janis: don't know how you're getting through customs as a wanted man but you'll make it happen Jimmy: fuck that Jimmy: if that's where my heart's meant to be you can actually 🔪 it out Janis: would LOVE to have your heart Janis: ultimate goals amirite Jimmy: you can take it then Janis: hot Janis: seeing as everywhere on earth is shit then, shall we just go straight to hell? Jimmy: You said you were going 😇☁ Janis: hold onto your 😎 'cos it's the same place Janis: truth is, just a fucking bummer if you're 😈 Jimmy: What? Janis: heaven and hell are the same place, some people reckon Janis: what could be more torturous than constant classical music and having to wear white for someone so fit and mysterious? Janis: you're gonna be 💔 baby Jimmy: How could you!? Jimmy: pissed on my afterlife Janis: So soz Janis: can always subscribe to reincarnation, might be a laugh Jimmy: 🦍 actually Jimmy: Dan would be so 😍😍 Janis: 😂 Janis: Ahh Dan Jimmy: OMG you can be a ��🐷 #fated Janis: Shut up Janis: I'm not being breakfast Jimmy: Or a 🦇!!! Janis: That's more appealing Janis: I'd do that Janis: give fuckers rabies amongst other awful diseases Jimmy: such a romantic, you Janis: you just need to avoid hunters Janis: you can be chilling up trees, when you're not kidnapping ladies Jimmy: protect me when I'm 💤 babe Janis: Cute Janis: how am I gonna know it's you though? Jimmy: What kind of signal do you want? Jimmy: 🚬☁? Janis: where are you getting 😎 from and all Janis: I'll just have to bite a lot of gorilla necks 'til one of 'em is into it Jimmy: Duh the lasses I've kidnapped Jimmy: what else are they good for? Janis: I don't know if they really discussed that in king kong Janis: I hope not Jimmy: Date night 2 after we've dug up Lennon and Co Jimmy: I've never seen it Janis: Me either Janis: I assume it's not a classic about Beastiality but Janis: might get 🍀 Jimmy: 👍 Janis: can liveblog Dan Jimmy: 🥇💡 Jimmy: in his DMs til his lass leaves him Janis: love that rep for me Janis: homewrecking then peacing out Jimmy: you have got form Janis: what are friends for Janis: free to tap that now, you're welcome Jimmy: if I wanted to 🐸 lad wouldn't have stopped me Jimmy: but tah very much Janis: yeah? Jimmy: What's your question? Janis: never mind Janis: his resemblance to pond life is uncanny Jimmy: 🎯 Janis: 🙊 Janis: I hope they're not all single now Janis: they get even more demonic when there's no dick around to distract them even for a sec, like Jimmy: Do you want me to do a poll? They'll tell me Janis: They'd lie to bone you Janis: Only Asia is stupid enough to not, God bless Jimmy: lucky me Janis: you don't have medical level BO and you can form basic sentences Janis: makes you a 🤴 to them but not special, you feel me Janis: the bar is underground Jimmy: SUCH a sweet talker, you 😳 Janis: I know Janis: just feeling #inspired by you Jimmy: you're meant to inspire me, dickhead Jimmy: gotta do everything myself round here Janis: I'll distract you Janis: make you do the wrong thing Janis: just 😇 things Jimmy: I'l see the paint coming this time, Judith Jimmy: it's the sober light of day Janis: Unfortunately Janis: my shower looked like a Pollock painting this AM Janis: and I can feel just how unsober last night was Jimmy: where's the 📷 you rookie? Janis: 😰 Jimmy: this is where us being #starcrossed falls down Jimmy: useless without me Janis: I wasn't feeling very inspired Janis: after the bollocking from the police, then from my parents, all whilst I could barely stand or 👀 Jimmy: you're 💔 me, girl Janis: I didn't even know where you were Janis: so dramatic, lowkey a stampede when garda showed Jimmy: I get it, you had your 🤞 they'd already sent me back to the grim north Janis: of course Janis: fake prison boyf Jimmy: fuck every other ldr that's the one Janis: could send you the good treats and nudes and shit Janis: so much more manageable Jimmy: you'd never be that nice to me Janis: once 👏 you 👏 kill 👏 for 👏 me 👏 Jimmy: Alright Jimmy: not got nowt else on Janis: won't even make it awkward and ask you to kill my sister Janis: pick whoever you wanna, got no preference here Jimmy: 💀👑 first Jimmy: the rest of 'em would feel it Janis: they are the flea to her rat Janis: gotta have that host body Jimmy: and I'd only have to touch her and she'd crumble to dust, an easy 🏆 Janis: How she's fucked as many lads as she has is beyond me Jimmy: 🤢🤢🤢 shh Janis: I know, it's disturbing and baffling on so many levels Janis: she doesn't even look like a good ride, who went there first and found out Janis: so many questions Jimmy: where's that q&a #content Mia? Janis: 😏 Janis: we should do one, not about the mystery of her skeletal vag Jimmy: the fans will have loads about the party and all that bollocks Jimmy: she'll have to wait Janis: gotta let the people know we made up Jimmy: can do it when you get here Jimmy: my brother's about but so's the 🐕 they're alright Janis: can keep the #content family-friendly Janis: read between the lines, lads Jimmy: yeah the 🐕 is more distracting than you Janis: Charming Janis: 😂 Janis: if I didn't feel like microwaved shit Jimmy: if you were 🥇 like me that wouldn't matter Janis: I didn't 📷 you don't know what I look like, twat Jimmy: you said feel Jimmy: nowt's been mentioned about how either of us look Janis: you sent me a pic Jimmy: and? Jimmy: you can either fake it or you can't 'cause you're either 🥇 or nowt Janis: 'course I can fake it Janis: just not gonna go that hard in front of your brother, obviously Janis: not 🥉 behaviour, that, just weird Jimmy: convenient that Jimmy: your excuse is non-existent 'cause as I said he's only got 👀 for the 🐕 Jimmy: bit like you Janis: 🙄 fine Janis: you're feeling unloved Jimmy: steady on, we're not having a therapy session on the 'gram Janis: just 😍 Janis: I know Jimmy: Go on then Jimmy: what do you look like? Janis: I've really got to send you a picture so you can tell me I look like shit? Janis: How about we get there and I just listen to all those fake compliments, like Jimmy: If I say please, will you give in? Janis: depends Jimmy: on how I say it or on something else? Janis: if you limit yourself to a word after you've seen it as well Jimmy: I can do that Janis: [we all know you look good you always do bitch] Jimmy: unfair Jimmy: there's my word Janis: okay Janis: I can deal with that Janis: more ? than ! Jimmy: I dunno if I can deal with you setting me up Janis: huh? Jimmy: I just thought you were gonna look Jimmy: and then you're Janis: well you don't look bad either so Janis: it's fair Jimmy: bollocks is it Jimmy: you heard me, I said unfair Janis: well alright Janis: but you're just as unfair then Jimmy: Nah I weren't faking I were 🧟 when I'm actually a hot 🧛 Janis: you're a 👻 Janis: if you don't get to come back as the peak hottest version of yourself, that's some bullshit Jimmy: Duh I actually were 👴 when I ⚰ you just 👀 me as 😎🚬 Janis: Best of both worlds Jimmy: that'll be why I'm such an optimist Janis: ☀ Janis: exactly what comes to mind tbh Jimmy: obvs Janis: think I might've accidentally got on a ghost bus though Janis: it's taking longer than usual, maybe I've been on here forever? Janis: who can say Jimmy: I should've offered to pick you up in Ian's car Jimmy: what kind of fake boyfriend Janis: fake boyfriend who wants to clock up all those hours scrubbing graffiti Jimmy: only 'cause date night 3 I'm planning to take you to put it all back Jimmy: if you're inspiring enough, that is Janis: 😏 Janis: keep doubting #hatersaremymotivatorsbabe Jimmy: prove it then I can't Jimmy: job done ✔ Janis: you want another picture with a 📰🗞 to prove I'm not lying, yeah Jimmy: You, lie? Bollocks would you Janis: know, it's what you 💕 best about me Jimmy: Yeah Janis: how is the actual loml today then? Jimmy: What the fuck does that mean? Janis: BABE!!! Janis: love of my life, OMG Jimmy: have you just made that up? Janis: don't be ridiculous Janis: start # me as such like RN Jimmy: [cue extra socials flirting] Janis: shit just got real, lads Jimmy: must be why I miss you Jimmy: nowt to do with how shit this park is Janis: obviously not Janis: everything's just more shit when I ain't about Jimmy: You're not wrong, bighead Jimmy: Love being bollocked by paddy 👮 me Janis: 🤤 was pretty blatant to me but don't reckon they noticed Jimmy: lads in uniform are just so 🤤🤤🤤 Jimmy: if I were american I could 🤞 Ian would send me to military school but 💔 Janis: only get your institutionalized abuse if you're rich enough to afford it Janis: or Catholic Janis: and there's a surprising amount of hoops to jump through there Janis: gutting Jimmy: 💔 about that an' all Jimmy: tah for being a pair of heathens mum and dad Janis: you could get confirmed but they'll 👀 you for being a right weirdo from the off Janis: no one JOINS Catholicism by choice, you're born to it and run away 😱 Jimmy: brb gonna have my quick 😭 before you get here Janis: Baby Jimmy: 🎻🎻 Janis: [showing up finally and pretending you checking his face for 😭 and wiping 'em away like 'you can calm down now'] Jimmy: [pretending that you're checking her for bits of paint she missed behind her ears and everywhere but we know you just wanna touch her face and hair always] Janis: [the standard get off moment but loling and loving it secretly] Jimmy: [just leaning on her and sighing dramatically like ugh what a day but it's more to annoy her and be close to her than an actual genuine fml because god forbid you're real about it] Janis: ['that bad, yeah?' and doing an even bigger dramatic sigh '#relatable, mate' we're all loving life lollollol] Jimmy: [when you're competitive af so you wanna do an even bigger sigh yourself but you can't because you've got that secret rib injury and it hurts to breathe in thanks so much Ian #gotta reclaim it from April and Steve] Janis: [simply must] Jimmy: [thank god yet again that 😒 is his default cos you gotta get on the swing for the #aesthetic of this q&a and that means she's gotta sit on you, suffer for your art boy] Janis: [definitely gonna notice though at some point you can't stop me lol] Jimmy: [she always notices things it's a blessing and a curse] Janis: [thank your mother and grandmother for that girl; getting up like ? 'did you actually get stampeded or was it garda?'] Jimmy: ['I get that you're my biggest fan but the q&a weren't planned for you' because especially can't answer that question moreso than any other] Janis: [frowns but as per makes more of a thing out of it so it's fake] Jimmy: [squish her face like she does to you like cheer up] Janis: ['I won't turn it into a game, you can just tell me' 'cos we all remember truth or dare and how well that went] Jimmy: [shrugs 'being a northern 45 has it's downs on top of the massive upsides' when you're acting like you're 👴 and did it by falling or coughing too hard from 🚬 either of which could've happened but didn't] Janis: [🙄 'so you're alright then?'] Jimmy: ['it ain't part of the job for you to worry about me'] Janis: [shrugs like give a shit, boy 'not an answer also, not sneaky'] Jimmy: ['I know how to fake it, that's the only answer you need to hear'] Janis: [😒] Jimmy: [goes to check on Bobby and Twix like look how fine I am bye] Janis: [just chilling on the bench like you're so unphased but clearly not and he's clearly not fine otherwise he wouldn't have needed to fake it at all if it was nbd] Jimmy: [Twix jumping up him cos she's so full of love and he's just in casual agony like this is fine] Janis: [just shooting up like nope and coming over to distract Twix and throw her ball for her] Jimmy: [nhs direct be like DON'T smoke so of course that's what he's gonna do, when it's a habit and you don't think about how much it's gonna hurt but you've committed yourself to the �� now] Janis: [just gesturing like lemme share that when you can see the wincing so at least he can only have half] Jimmy: [blatantly knows what she's doing and why but letting it happen cos ouch] Janis: [just doing overtime on that cig lmao] Jimmy: [just giving her a look like calm down as if you remotely have followed your own advice there] Janis: ['never know where the fans are hiding' looking 'round the park as if anyone is about 'cept families and tweens] Jimmy: ['You already looked hot, no need to go overboard'] Janis: ['what's your excuse then?'] Jimmy: ['For what?' you know perfectly well boyy] Janis: [a look that says as much 'you know'] Jimmy: [shakes his head like no I don't] Janis: ['you just want me to say it' tapping her head like not thick] Jimmy: ['so go on'] Janis: ['will you let me help you out if I do? I could walk the dog for you, at least'] Jimmy: [I've said before you can have her' gestures like take that dog away please and thank] Janis: [gestures at Bobby who's probably loving upon her like case in point] Jimmy: [shrugs like he'll get over it] Janis: ['she won't' 💔] Jimmy: [🎻 mime] Janis: [shakes head] Jimmy: [🙄] Janis: ['what did you dad say, like?'] Jimmy: ['I get it, you're trying to work out how up for committing crimes he is, you being underage and all, be a better shout if you faked it as yummy mummy though'] Janis: [tuts, 'runs in the family then'] Jimmy: [shakes his head really OTT because he likes his women 👵 'one of a kind, me'] Janis: [flexes muscle IRL] Jimmy: [😏] Janis: [going back to the swing] Jimmy: [pushing her, don't hurt yourself boy] Janis: [just enjoying this but thinking the same, peeping back at him occasionally] Jimmy: [just looking at her like I'm alright cos downplaying it 5ever] Janis: ['alright, you're well hard, we get it'] Jimmy: ['I'm just such a lad, nowt I can do about it, like'] Janis: ['gift and a curse, sure'] Jimmy: [holds the swing to keep it still for a sec 'you alright?' cos even though he's only pushing her gently gotta take the piss that she might 🤢 cos so hungover] Janis: [shakes her head, dramatically 'I'm off the rails, babe and you're meant to be ride or die and you're not telling me nothing' big pout] Jimmy: [comes round the front of the swing so he can look at her dramatically like he's so OTT sorry and forlorn 'making me get on my knees'd be a bit cruel, but name owt else, baby'] Janis: ['yeah, don't' look like you better not with this mystery injury, boy 'tell me what the gameplan is, how are we doing this, how are we getting back at her for this?'] Jimmy: [sits on the swing next to her and is thinking like a winnie because hasn't had chance to even consider any of that with everything else that's going on] Janis: [nods like exactly 'obviously we wanted to get in trouble but that doesn't mean she gets away with being a snitch'] Jimmy: [nods back cos yeah fuck her 'what does she care about?'] Janis: [shrugs 'fuck all but controlling her calories and her minions'] Jimmy: ['Alright, how can we take the control off her?'] Janis: ['if you've still got your job, start melting butter into her coffees' 😏 but also seriously thinking 'not hard to get that lot having an argument...you reckon you could get her chatting shit on them to you? that'd work, love their #receipts, like'] Jimmy: [gets his phone out like let's see and gestures for her to come here even though they are only a swing apart anyway #blatant] Janis: [leaning over his shoulder like 👀] Jimmy: [imagine having to try and chat to Mia, good lord] Janis: [and god knows how you're gonna have to play this to get decent fallout fuel from her, she's not an idiot] Jimmy: [yeah we should say it doesn't work because realistically wouldn't and he'd be so fuming that he hasn't been able to do it] Janis: ['back to the drawing board' and back to her swing to ponder] Jimmy: [😒 af and such a frustrated sigh which is then like OUCH but trying not to show that 'What about that co-worker of mine you were proper willing to throw under the bus and reckon is so well fit?' Hey Pete hey] Janis: [instincitvely reaching to squeeze his hand like hey but then Pete gets mentioned and you casually have to drop it like a hot potato without being that obvious lol 'Does Mia reckon he's well fit enough too?' like I've not been there 'she harass him and all, like?'] Jimmy: ['You said none of 'em have got high standards, what were it, no BO and basic grasp of how to put words together?' shrugs and looks at her like yeah well I'm not trying to say it's a good idea just an idea and another sigh that you can't help because you hate that she cares about Pete and you're reading too much into what that means] Janis: ['might work, might be a bit weird to put across to him though' 'cos can you imagine, like hello, us again... 'she was pretty pissed off when we gatecrashed her sleepover, it'd be worse than community service but we could do more of that? get them on side so she looks as mental as she is, like'] Jimmy: ['Alright' because that's a much better and easier idea you have to admit boy] Janis: ['yeah?' makes a face 'cos what did you just sign yourself up for, you cannot stand these girls lmao] Jimmy: ['I just said it were, must be' because this is all so casual and fine] Janis: ['Remember when we couldn't do a school project with the bitch? Imagine what they're like with no parameters or focus...' rolls eyes like Lord help us all 'definitely gonna be Oscar-winning fakery'] Jimmy: ['first place or nowt, baby, it's what Mia's owed, keep that in your head and you'll rise to the challenge, right piece of piss'] Janis: ['she's not my muse, fuck off' but kicking him in a bants manner with your swingy feet] Jimmy: [raises an eyebrow like oh isn't she and is 😏 'I'll keep that to myself, case it fucks with your master plan, don't worry'] Janis: [stops his swing abruptly by yanking on the chain like how dare you 'arsehole' 😒] Jimmy: [OTT like OW even though he's as fine as he's been this whole time] Janis: [when you then have to stop yourself now to check like oh no, so then you're even more 😒 'don't do that!'] Jimmy: [holds his hands up like soz but his 👀s genuinely are we know 'you know I didn't mean owt, be my mate again'] Janis: [standing inbetween his legs and tilting his chin up with your index finger so he's gotta look at you, as if you can work out what happened to him just by staring into his 👀 really hard] Jimmy: [some amazing eye contact as per and hitting her with a 'what?' even though you know cos you always know] Janis: ['we can be mates' like okay do you wanna be any closer though] Jimmy: ['good' likewise not moving like boy if you lean in right now I'm gonna kill you] Janis: [when there's nowhere to hide but you also cannot be the first to break, torn much] Jimmy: [at least we can have Twix or Bobby or both interrupt as he's just moving her hair out of her face/needlessly touching her yet again but before he does or says something we're not ready for because seriously about to here] Janis: [this is true, you aren't alone so you can't have a total bench moment here] Jimmy: [and you defs can't be revealing your secrets or feels rn thank you sir] Janis: [just turning so fast and acting like that never happened like oh hi Twix whilst he deals with Bobby] Jimmy: [do them big brother duties because he can't know you're hurt so you gotta fake it even more] Janis: [the joys] Jimmy: [he's gonna have a ball cleaning up and working ILY Ian you're a star] Janis: [make that punishment even more punishing, we see you] Jimmy: [I also like to imagine his phone going off throughout like you better not be with that girl, try and stop me bitch] Janis: [likewise 'cos you've done a bunk so they're like where are you, you have to go community service blah blah blah] Jimmy: [sharing a look but not a LOOK like] Janis: [actual solidarity, like y'all have no idea yet] Jimmy: [Taking a selfie with Twix and Bobby to send to him like fuck you Ian I'm doing your jobs and then letting Bobby take some cos mini me] Janis: [can't help but smiling 'cos that's cute] Jimmy: [takes her phone to take a coupley selfie so she doesn't feel left out and no other reason] Janis: ['won't tag you, like'[ Jimmy: ['tag Jamie'] Janis: [lols 'start framing him now, alright'] Jimmy: [a genuine smile] Janis: ['gonna look insane when everyone realizes you were never here the whole time but I'll cope'] Jimmy: ['gutted that Bruce Willis beat us to that plot twist' and such a pouty face] Janis: [squishing it forever like 😏] Jimmy: [leaning on her like I'M SO SAD THO] Janis: ['how can I cheer you up?'] Jimmy: [looking around like we could make a run for it and start a new life, as if he's capable of running rn or ever] Janis: ['my bags are packed, like'] Jimmy: [gestures like come on then but is looking at Bobby and Twix like] Janis: [looks at 'em as well and shrugs like yep 'easier leaving kids that are yours, init'] Jimmy: ['obvs' but now he's thinking about his mum so is actually sad not fake sad #awks] Janis: [is thinking about Drew and Edie so we're all having a lil moment here] Jimmy: [drags her over to the slide like go on, cos he'd die if he had a go so can't] Janis: [looking at Bobby then back at him like 'got your duties mixed up' but obvs has a go not gonna be a spoilsport] Jimmy: [then Bobby has a go and then Twix wants a go so you gotta go again girl] Janis: [like a babby] Jimmy: [you know he's getting all the adorable pics] Janis: [putting Twix on Bobby's lap at the top of the slide 'cos she's a pup so small] Jimmy: [he's falling in love again y'all] Janis: [put twix in a baby swing, that would be hilarious] Jimmy: [they gotta so he can be 😏 instead of 😍 because you're not kissing her rn boy I forbid it] Janis: [there's just no fake rn and we all know it] Jimmy: [he doesn't have it in him rn despite what he said] Janis: [mhmm, we won't be infiltrating the flat whites any time soon lmao] Jimmy: [gotta give that more than a hot sec but I do think at some point they should run into Asia and her sisters again for the lol because] Janis: [that would be good 'cos the mood that day lolllll] Jimmy: [they can get Bobby in on the fake niceness by bribing him or something lol] Janis: [#playdate!] Jimmy: [exactly dr phil] Janis: [god bless] Jimmy: [should probably get that kid and dog back so come and chill at his gaff again girl] Janis: [your parents will be delighted hahahaha suck it lads] Jimmy: [hooray for Ian being at work so you don't actually have to see him though] Janis: [that's a blessing] Jimmy: [make tea and food for everyone Jimothy we know that's your life] Janis: don't need to tell you how to make it Janis: handy Jimmy: You gonna give me a hand though? Jimmy: I get that there's no promise of an apron but you already look 🥇 we've covered that Janis: and run the risk of you thinking I'm not a spoilt brat? 🤔 Janis: I guess I could Janis: as you're full of compliments as currency today Jimmy: 🤞 they won't take your 🐴 away for mucking in like the common lads and lasses do, rich girl Janis: Better not Janis: love mucking out SO much Janis: [does come to help like bonjour] Jimmy: and it would muck up the stable boy fantasy before we've had a go at it 💔 Janis: [lols] Janis: that's exactly what your accent is Jimmy: [says something like a cliche stable boy would idk I'm not a horse girl] Janis: [reminds me of that classic book baby mama was in with game of thrones, though he's like gameskeeper or whatever the fuck anyway, loling harder and fake swooning] Jimmy: [when you pretend to catch her fainting, shameless touching even if it hurts you is your real ultimate kink boy] Janis: [the tea, saying something stereotypically posh in a stereotypically posh voice to break the tension that is just always there now] Jimmy: [does the posh little finger thing while drinking his and loling] Janis: [making nerd glasses with her fingers at him like 😏] Jimmy: ['Oi, be nice to me' making a face like I'm so injured excuse you] Janis: ['yeah, you gone shy or you gonna show me?' gestures like kit off boy] Jimmy: [is awks af obvs because we know it's bad but does take off his top because can't admit it #challengealwaysaccepted] Janis: [breathing in through her teeth like ouch and really gently touching them, like barely, speaking just as softly 'you should take an ice bath, it'd take down this swelling'] Jimmy: ['always trying to get me in the bath, you' but his voice is as soft as hers is 'but no pictures this time, a cute filter ain't gonna make this look goals'] Janis: ['Who could blame me' but said more as a throwaway comment just to keep this feeling normal and not like you're worried about him in any way nope, a look like obviously, who am I? before moving him, gently, out the way 'I'll finish up here, yeah'] Jimmy: [a shrug like I can do it because god forbid you actually take it easy lad] Janis: ['I can make-' (fill in the blank of whatever he's feeding Bobby, lol fish fingers or whatever we know the vibe here) 'if you don't wanna get in without me, wait, like'] Jimmy: ['Calm down, no dickhead's ready for how wife goals you are' and some fake 😍 'if you're that about trying to work your magic work out how we're gonna fill the tub with the one ice tray, what would your mate Jesus do?'] Janis: [less fake 🙄 back 'fine, I'll go buy a couple bags, prepare yourself' and chucking her shoes and whatnot back on like brb, least you don't live in the middle of nowhere] Jimmy: [irl 👍] Janis: won't let you 🥶 Jimmy: not how you wanna 💀💀💀? Jimmy: I get it, nowt massively 😎🚬 about that Janis: In terms of murder, pretty good idea but nah Janis: I've done 'em before so I'm not 🙀 Jimmy: knew you had loads of bodies in your freezer Jimmy: bit rude to make me think our 💀💀💀 pact were the first Jimmy: bit ruder that you never went through with your end all the other times Janis: just waiting to meet the one, babes Janis: 🤷 can't be killing myself for every lad that comes through Jimmy: proper heartbreaker you Jimmy: knew that an' all Janis: You won't get chance to tweet that Janis: s'fine Janis: 🙊🙉🙈 Jimmy: didn't break none of my fingers Janis: you're really gonna do it whilst I'm out running errands? Janis: ungrateful Jimmy: stop begging, I'll be a good boy Jimmy: for a bit Janis: It's you with the kink for being told what to do, apparently Janis: stop complaining Jimmy: don't sound like me that Jimmy: ray of fucking ☀ or nowt Janis: wrong chat then Janis: my bad Jimmy: sort it out, girl Janis: be more memorable, boy Jimmy: 💀💀💀 you too quick if I were Janis: exactly Janis: letdown no. ??? Jimmy: piss off Janis: Calm down Janis: can't be letdown by something that ain't real Janis: only have myself to blame then and not about that Jimmy: 👌 Janis: 🙄 Jimmy: 🙄 Janis: ugh Jimmy: It's a hard life, Jasmine Jimmy: crack on, we don't have all day Janis: excuse me Janis: as long as you do it within the first three days, it'll still work Janis: and you're on chef duties so you shut up and concentrate Jimmy: I can't concentrate if you're gonna chat to me like that Jimmy: 😍🤤🤤😍 Janis: blame the burning on me then Janis: we all know you're just 🥉 Jimmy: Oi, I'll be a top wife Jimmy: know how to take a punch and everything Janis: Shh Janis: busy Jimmy: 💔 Janis: Meant to be helping, so let me Jimmy: why you trying to make me 😭 then? that won't help Jimmy: bloody hurt if owt Janis: Obviously not Janis: you know I'm not good at words, it's not a surprise Jimmy: duh it's the only thing we've got in common Janis: is it cheering you to make me try and fail then? Janis: 'cos have at it but you will end up 😭 by the end of t Jimmy: I just Jimmy: wanna chat to someone who ain't 6 Jimmy: or a 🐕 Janis: 2/2 Janis: take that victory Jimmy: 🏆 Jimmy: there you go Janis: I will fill it with ice Jimmy: and a drink of your choice Jimmy: I 👀 you, pisshead Janis: just prepping myself for having to 👀 you in the tub again Jimmy: I can get in by myself, I were 👴 but 👻 me is in his prime, remember Jimmy: near as much an athlete as you at this rate Jimmy: 💪🥇 Janis: let's not get carried away Jimmy: spoilsport Jimmy: might wanna carry you about Janis: when you're recovered Jimmy: takes weeks 🤞 I'll be long gone Janis: about as reliable as 🙏 Janis: take from that whatever you want, heathen Jimmy: Tah Jimmy: or I'll just get another girlfriend who ain't as heavy as you Janis: fuck off Janis: I'm not heavy Jimmy: depends Janis: on how weak you are? yeah Jimmy: on who we're comparing you to Jimmy: but you can piss off, I'm not weak, I'm injured Janis: Know you're used to puppies and 6 year olds, obvs Jimmy: you're not the first lass I've lugged about, soz to melt your ❄ babe Janis: 💔 Janis: I'm not anorexic or otherwise as easily deluded, I know I'm skinny Jimmy: never said you weren't Jimmy: have said before that you're a 🦒 Janis: thanks Jimmy: 👍 Janis: need anything else whilst I'm here Jimmy: You're my nurse, you tell me Janis: get you some drugs Janis: don't take 'em all at once 💀💀💀 Jimmy: What if I promise to split 'em right down the middle? Janis: I'm not dying for you today Jimmy: Baby please Janis: Nah Janis: find some tiny girlfriend who'll need half the tabs Jimmy: been there, done that Janis: plenty more midgets either side of the sea Jimmy: I don't have time to go 🎣 but tah for that Janis: Busy busy Jimmy: hardworking kink ain't nowt but a curse 🎻 Janis: don't need to tell me Janis: I'm rich Janis: the less you see your missus and fam the better 🤤 Jimmy: wouldn't dream of telling you nowt of the sort, not very #goals that Janis: so needy 😏 Jimmy: shut up Jimmy: so mean today you Janis: just today? Jimmy: not thick enough to start digging myself down into that big of an hole Jimmy: and obvs too weak any road so Jimmy: 🤐 Janis: more like it Janis: though implying I was gonna get pissy about it was a dick move that did not go unnoticed Jimmy: I said what I said Jimmy: there's nowt you don't get pissy about when that's what you wanna do Janis: Maybe you're just really fucking annoying Janis: that's more than a distinct possibility Jimmy: only maybe? Jimmy: 💕 Janis: So optimistic too Janis: 🤢 Jimmy: you need to get back on it, pisshead, that'll sort you out Janis: You like me better when I'm drunk Janis: spread that around Janis: though frankly, lil rapey is their type Jimmy: I don't like you however much you drink, not a paddy Janis: Try drinking some more yourself Janis: looking for common sense at the bottom of a bottle ain't a noble pursuit but you know Jimmy: Alright Jimmy: [a selfie of him posing with Ian's stash like oh hey] Janis: and you were gonna let me buy more Janis: who's the shit host now Jimmy: I never said you should buy owt Jimmy: you went off on your own #mission Janis: you'll be grateful later Jimmy: yeah 'cause that's how you like me, I know Janis: Don't you start #kinkassuming thank you Jimmy: no need to assume it, I've 🔓 it Jimmy: got the 🎟 Janis: 🤔 Janis: Must've been wasted Janis: as per Jimmy: Or I've got the wrong girlfriend Jimmy: might do Janis: It happens Janis: what's my name again Jimmy: what kind of fish do you wanna be? that'd help me out Jimmy: I've voted already Janis: 🦈 Jimmy: #fated Janis: if you said 🐬 I'd delete and block you Jimmy: I can't, that's Asia's Jimmy: nowt I can do when she's just SO SMART Janis: can't wait 'til some screaming kid covers her blowhole and suffocates her Jimmy: 😂 Janis: shame you ain't a starfish Janis: cut your legs off see if they grow back Jimmy: What am I then? Janis: one of those lurky bastards at the bottom of the ocean Janis: just been sitting there for 10000000s of years Jimmy: that's the most romantic thing you've ever said to me Jimmy: brb need to dry my eyes Janis: I know Janis: 💦💦 Jimmy: that what's taking you so long? Janis: yeah Janis: am I not allowed any privacy? Jimmy: You've heard 💀👑's stance on that Janis: you invited her over already? Janis: keen Jimmy: you wish, Jennifer Jimmy: can't have her around in my weakened state Janis: fuck off and stop being a baby Jimmy: you fuck off Janis: come get your stuff then Jimmy: you're alright Janis: it'll melt out here Jimmy: I get that I'm such a ☀ but outside ain't competing that hard Janis: Don't be awkward Jimmy: gotta teach the 🐕 fetch some time Janis: for fuck's sake Jimmy: What? Janis: I've got to go put it in your bath myself, have I Jimmy: You haven't gotta do nowt Janis: are you coming to get it? Jimmy: Am I on a ⏲? Janis: would you like me to work out how long it takes to melt a bag of ice Janis: like I said, awkward Jimmy: 🤓 Janis: I'm going to smack you upside the head with it in a second Jimmy: [comes to get it like go on then] Janis: [obviously will not lol, just shoving it at him like there you go] Jimmy: [takes it and walks off leaving her with Twix who has come like hey girl] Janis: [tryna get her in the house 'cos you were tryna leave on the low but Twix says no] Jimmy: [puts some ice in whatever bottle he's stolen off Ian and offers it to her like] Janis: ['only 'cos it'll get watered down now otherwise'] Jimmy: ['duh, that's the trick, then he dunno I've nicked it'] Janis: [🙄 @ Ian 'Amateur, I would know'] Jimmy: ['you ain't thick and northern' said over his shoulder as he's going upstairs to get in his ice bath with the stolen booze casually] Janis: [just downstairs like what am I meant to do now excuse me but definitely not going to ask] Janis: try not to go into shock or get hypothermia please Jimmy: 👍 Jimmy: how long have I gotta sit here like a dickhead? Janis: do 5 minutes, if you can hack it Janis: no longer than 10 Jimmy: say when Janis: Get in and then I'll come in and supervise Janis: I'm not gonna accidentally kill you Jimmy: don't get none of this #drama with a bag of peas Jimmy: but alright Janis: it'll be more effective Janis: trust me Jimmy: if you've gotta say it, I probably shouldn't Jimmy: well suspicious Janis: it's not gonna be nice but it'll stop the damage getting worse and kickstart the healing Jimmy: 🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶 Janis: yeah, that's why you're getting in before I come up Janis: I'll listen for the scream, like Jimmy: did you 👂 or do you want me to get out and back in? Janis: Okay Janis: so tough, I get it Janis: [comes up and puts her hand to his forehead to check his temp] Jimmy: [imagine his little face please just like fuck me this is #fun] Janis: [puts a timer on her phone and is looking for the biggest, softest towel for when he gets out] Jimmy: [when you're the most caring ever on the low] Janis: ['I'm sorry' and taking the drink from him] Jimmy: [a look like ? because not gonna try and talk atm] Janis: [gestures like for all of it, I don't know but then doesn't wanna be that bitch so sucks it up and actually says why 'I didn't mean to call you a baby'] Jimmy: [puts a finger to his lips like shut up it's fine] Janis: [shrugs an alright and sits down on the side of the bath] Jimmy: [splashes but so the water just comes up and doesn't actually touch her because not that rude and also he's too cold to do a really big splash movement] Janis: [reaching in, whey but not, to get his feet out 'cos apparently your toes will be most sensitive so they don't need to be under, neither do his hands, just rubbing some life back into them with said towel like there we go] Jimmy: [saying a sincere thanks with his 👀 but then having to look away because who ever looks after him #emotions] Janis: ['I'll make you a cuppa when you get out'] Jimmy: you just want one, I 👀 you Janis: [takes another swig from the bottle like yes, blatantly 😏] Jimmy: 😏 Janis: then you can get in bed for a bit Janis: can't get straight in a hot shower, though you wanna Jimmy: how many of these have you done? Janis: enough Janis: plus I do sports science and all that shit so Jimmy: take your 🏆 Janis: will when those bruises fade, like Janis: not jealous or nothing but it is a bit rude Jimmy: don't be, nobody does 'em like you, baby Janis: might have to tweet it Janis: don't want a repeat Jimmy: [cue flirty af tweets to distract her because we can't tell her what happened] Janis: [with that we can probably get you out, to your great relief] Jimmy: [help him like the 👴 he is, girl] Janis: [get him wrapped up in that towel and in his room asap] Jimmy: [you have to snuggle him it's basically the law] Janis: [would literally be rude not to, least you can do it and be rubbing his arms like just warming you up nothing else going on nope] Jimmy: [the amount of things I have to stop him from saying or doing rn, boy no] Janis: ['do you still own a hoodie? you need to wrap up warm'] Jimmy: [a lil lol but goes to get his warmest one cos wouldn't have had that out in april so she hasn't stolen it] Janis: [control your 😍 at his cute you've got a job to do 'do you want your tea now?'] Jimmy: [when you shake your head before you can stop yourself or do your trick of not answering a q because you just don't want her to go] Janis: [just patting the bed like get back in then] Jimmy: [does] Janis: [when you have to snuggle really hard for warmth also single bed moment again] Jimmy: [god bless, what makes it even better is knowing how fuming Ian would be but it's literally your fault sir, you've done this] Janis: [you did this bitch] Jimmy: [thanks for bringing them closer together hoe] Janis: [nice try, universe] Jimmy: ['Am I gonna die if I fall asleep?' from within the snuggle] Janis: [tiniest lol 'only if you also feel a sudden urge to take your clothes off too' accidentally saucy like 😳] Jimmy: ['well now you've told me not to, I obvs do' playing it like you're such a rebel but we know why you wanna] Janis: ['then I'd have to keep you awake, it's your choice'] Jimmy: [such a LOOK] Janis: [closing his eyes like no looking 'cos literally can't handle it] Jimmy: [opening them again because 1. he's that dickhead but more importantly 2. he can give her a look like even if I fall asleep don't leave] Janis: ['you can go to sleep' in response 'but-' and not finishing that sentence] Jimmy: ['what?' because I have to every single time] Janis: [non-committal noises like idk doesn't matter forget it etc] Jimmy: ['go on' because can't and won't drop anything unless he wants to] Janis: [shrugs without smacking him in the face hopefully 'cos you are that close rn 'you don't have to'] Jimmy: [nods like alright like it's so casual but not breathing because it isn't even remotely casual bye] Janis: ['We could-' stopping to correct yourself to make it sound more fake as if we're even remotely believing that now '-I could make you feel even better, if you want'] Jimmy: ['I get it, you reckon you're a better nurse than me, eh?' throwback to that school trip moment and how hot it was 'crack on then, but nowt'll top that ice bath' such sarcasm, such wit] Janis: [smiles 'not that that's much to brag about, yeah' rolls her eyes and sighs like oh, if I must, as if she didn't suggest it, TOTALLY unprompted 'still my idea, that, so your turn for a good one again, when you're all healed, of course' doing the poor baby pout at him whilst sitting herself up and maneuvering VERY carefully so she's sat on top of him, facing away so he's looking at the back of her 'obviously, that shit about not poking bruises is true, but if we sort the rest of your muscles out, you'll feel less fucked in general' and starting a full-body-but-his-abdomen-area massage with his calves/feet and working her way up 'cos lord knows the boy is tense and she already has a decent idea of what she's doing here] Jimmy: [when that feels so good literally immediately that you have to take the piss because you can't cope 'what the fuck else are they teaching you in sports science, girl?' I can only imagine the kind of teacher they'd have for that so I'm loling] Janis: ['gutted you didn't take it now, yeah?' shaking her head like 😏 and moving up to the thighs] Jimmy: ['more inspiring than art by the looks of it, like, not that that's much to brag about either'] Janis: ['your stuff was alright' like casually bringing up that night like how much do we remember, we'll never know] Jimmy: [thank god she can't see him blushing rn 'you're a decent canvas' bringing up the paint fight because yolo and downplaying the rest of his art because thanks Ian for making him think he's not good at anything] Janis: [likewise but you are gonna have to turn 'round now 'cos you've run out of body lmao 'you too' then and now, obvs] Jimmy: [we all just dying here] Janis: [take a sec to compose yourself before turning 'cos now you're gonna be onto hands and that's like the most intimate somehow] Jimmy: [it seriously is though] Janis: [think it's 'cos you have to sit and face each other and hold hands in a sensual manner, at least he is laying down though so he could avoid the eye contact if he chose to] Jimmy: [I REFUSE to allow you to make eye contact during this sir] Janis: [awkward when it'll be shoulders after and you're gonna be so up in his face like hello, stay strong lads] Jimmy: [oh lord I'll just be screaming DON'T YOU DARE KISS the whole time] Janis: [hohaha this is just mean] Jimmy: [she'll have her work cut out though because nobody's carried this much tension in their body since teenage Tess Vickers] Janis: [since me honey] Jimmy: [the tea] Janis: [least you can really concentrate on doing a good job 'cos yeah wants to kiss him so bad[ Jimmy: [there's no denying what a good job she is doing though 🥇 legit] Janis: [fuck you Ian] Jimmy: [forever the mood] Janis: [though will be leaving before you get back, don't need you fucking up all this hard work tah] Jimmy: [bye felicia] Janis: [though not going anywhere really you'll have to deal] Jimmy: [we should say one of the flat whites are doing something so they can start their plan] Janis: [yeah, maybe Grace is forcing Mia or one of the others to have a party 'cos obvs she doesn't want everyone at Cali gaff really] Jimmy: [and she'd be hoping it'd stop everyone talking about Janis and their party but it sadly won't babe] Janis: [when y'all can't hang and we all know it] Jimmy: [I vote it's 💀#2 cos mad at her for bathgate tbh] Janis: [and she's probably got the most impressive house in a basic rich way so it's a plus to getting people to show] Jimmy: [agreed] Janis: [along with Mia obvs but we know the vibe, what a joy this will be lol] Jimmy: [I feel like Mia would never have parties at her house because such a daddy's girl and that's why you have minions] Jimmy: [at least you can kiss when you get there cos DYING to] Janis: [exactly, not gonna trash your own house, like, plus bet her mum is a cringe] Jimmy: [I just picture Regina's mum in mean girls basically lol] Janis: [tryna cry about your cheating mans with your daughter and her friends, no one needs that do they Mia, at least Ali would never lmao] Jimmy: [Ali's only cringe cos of how hot everyone thinks she is] Janis: [Mia probably does, secret gay] Jimmy: [oh girl] Janis: [will we ever know your damage truly lol] Jimmy: [we should probably figure it out one day so when we're famous everyone's not like wtf casually an Amber from Get Even situation on our hands] Janis: [true true, but sometimes people are in your life as a cunt and you don't consider why, esp as a teen so it's real that the characters don't know, even if we do] Jimmy: [yeah agreed the whole point is she knows everything about Grace and she knows barely anything about Mia because power moves] Janis: [keep them secrets] Jimmy: [it's that poor little rich girl stereotype and we all know it] Janis: [god bless, we have been distracted though, shall we skip as we are not letting anything happen now or?] Jimmy: [we can do because we very much know the vibe and like realistically they could show up to this function way early like even while the flat whites were all getting ready if they wanted because they have a plan to start] Janis: [oh yeah, like let us help you set up!!!!1 mega friendly so not suspect lol] Jimmy: [we all know they'd be ??? but still let them because Mia thinks she's so smart and in control] Janis: [this would be so painful and funny like try not to die holding in lols at them] Jimmy: [#bondingexperiences] Janis: [they should also be wearing more basic approved clothes, like not too wildly obvs but more girly for her, less alternative for him] Jimmy: [yasss and Grace can do her make up because she's actually good at it for all her other cringe so it would look good] Janis: [gotta get her on side too, keep your suspicions in the chat and not in front of your friends] Jimmy: [you're not touching her hair though, Jimmy would be devastated beyond belief] Janis: [we have to draw the line somewhere] Jimmy: [also Asia should have a new bf she's showing off for the lols] Janis: [what a delight, all the single flat whites crying in the club] Jimmy: [omg if he shows up early too and tries to make awkward #ladsladslads small talk with Jimothy the most unsocial egg in the world] Janis: [good idea ladeh] Janis: 💀💀💀 Jimmy: after I've done him Jimmy: can't be lasses first this once, soz Janis: getting on that well, are you? Jimmy: don't 😘 and tell, me Janis: Bullshit Janis: all you do 🗨❤📷📱 Jimmy: Alright, 'cause you untwisted my arm, I'll 🗨 Janis: You giving each other chinese burns? Janis: you wanted that peak homoerotic bullying moment Janis: so happy for you babes!!! 💖 Jimmy: I wish but I do reckon I proper LOVE him Jimmy: summer wedding 🤞 Janis: sending you colour-palettes as we speak OMG Janis: gonna have to let Asia down really gently or you'll all turn up at the altar by the sounds of 🙄🙄 Jimmy: You'll do it for me though, yeah? call it first duty as maid of honour Janis: take great pleasure when I have to stop playing dress up and nice, yeah Jimmy: let's swap, I'd be about playing dress up Janis: 😱😱😱 EWWW Janis: such a perv Jimmy: be more jealous that I'm prettier than you, babes Janis: you be more that you'd NEVER fit in this dress she's letting me borrow 😘 Jimmy: 😭😭😭😭 find me in the kitchen with your sister eating my feelings Janis: yeah you stay away from my sister creep Janis: focus on making Janis: Declan? Janis: Dave Janis: your bestie for the night/forever and ever 💖 Jimmy: fuck that, please come and rescue me Janis: alright Janis: as he's as bad as he looks Janis: just got to finish being tortured here without dropping that he was in my DMs a few ago, like Janis: when will she meet her 🤴 eh Jimmy: when she stops fucking 🐸? Jimmy: though he looks bit more like 🦎 Janis: More exotic? Janis: upgrade 🙌 Jimmy: more like he's shedding his skin about Jimmy: what did he 🗨 then? Janis: eurgh Janis: least you forgo'd the black for just one night Janis: asking me my skincare routine, obvs Janis: all adds up now Jimmy: 🙌 Jimmy: adds up that he's all over me, that's all any dickhead knows of your skincare routine Janis: You can't be taking credit for my skin now Janis: already feel like a barbie up here without you turning it Frankenstein Jimmy: Poor baby Jimmy: I can save you, just 💪 my way in, hang on Janis: Can hear the hysteria already Janis: if the octaves get any higher, only your dog gonna be able to understand 'em, like Jimmy: you're worth the risk to my one good ear 💕 Jimmy: [does bowl in and pull her away but not far because 👀🍿 like I need you to be with me soz] Janis: [Grace just like HER MAKEUP 'cos we know the lipstick is going everywhere] Jimmy: [soz not soz gals] Janis: [lowkey tryna make him leave 'cos this is girl's time 'cos that's always a thing like we all know you're just jelly and sad about your own lack of love ladies] Jimmy: [Mia like no boys and JJ just ignoring her so hard rn because only got 👀 for each other and it's not even fake] Janis: [cannot sacrifice him to this boy rn imagine the 'bants' good lord] Jimmy: [literally he could not be further from that #lad vibe he'd be so over it and tbh fuck you Mia we know you're the only one who actually cares if he stays] Janis: [tbh, just chilling on 💀#2 bed like you're abso besties rn] Jimmy: [god imagine her room, he'd feel so uncomfortable lowkey but we never showing it] Janis: [all white everything like no one spill anything christ] Jimmy: [I hope Grace drops some makeup like Sammi is always doing, my beloved clumsy babe] Janis: [you two try not to piss yourselves like] Jimmy: [when you have to turn it into a cough and that hurts you but at least it stops the lols] Janis: [asking if yous can smoke in here when you so clearly cannot lmao but an excuse for an actual break like brb, he clearly needs it] Jimmy: [run lads run] Janis: [a look when you're outside like Jesus fucking Christ before having the lols you've been holding back this whole time 'God, I actually NEED that cigarette, hurry up, like'] Jimmy: [100% shared and obvs he does hurry up and light hers because whipped and then his because likewise needed] Janis: [just discussing how pissed off Mia is already like lollollol] Jimmy: [and plotting how to piss her off more whilst getting the others on side] Janis: ['hope her birthday is soon, love to fuck that up' when you should know by rights but take no interest so do not lol] Jimmy: [checks her socials because there'd be a shit load of posts from last year and he'd be able to work out the date holds his phone up to her like] Janis: [🤔 then 😒 'nah fuck it, can't be around them that long' and 😏 on the exhale at him] Jimmy: ['And you can't do it without me' because still running with that narrative he'll be gone soon] Janis: ['I'd have time to audition replacements before then, come on'] Jimmy: [😒 that we're pretending is fake but isn't] Janis: [nudges him in the side with hers 'One and only, I remember'] Jimmy: [nudges her back like be careful with me even though she already is being] Janis: ['my delicate little baby' and cupping his cheeks instead of squashing 'em] Jimmy: [looks down at whatever outfit they've put her in 'dunno what I'm gonna call you'] Janis: ['but your list of J names is endless'] Jimmy: ['but those are for you, who the fuck is she?' gestures at the look like who would wear this but OTT because we know she looks good still really and we're not trying to slag her off] Janis: [looks down like yeah, ikr 'sadly their names don't all rhyme or begin with the same letter or something as appropriately cultish so' shrugs like who knows] Jimmy: [dramatic sigh/ exhale of smoke like what a let down] Janis: ['How many continents and virtues still up for grabs?'] Jimmy: [😏] Janis: [shakes head to self thinking on how many levels Grace is an inappropriate name for her 'Not Chastity, like, or Antarctica, both so not goals for the same reason'] Jimmy: ['Whatever the hottest country is, go with that one' when you're not even joking rn you just think she's that hot blatantly] Janis: [trying not to 😳 with limited success 'yeah, such a flex, could go with a vice for a name too but be a bit on the nose, I reckon'] Jimmy: 'Depends, probably don't choose gluttony or owt but' shrugs] Janis: ['Exactly, get sexier names or get out'] Jimmy: [looking over his shoulder like you can feel Mia lurking 'about time we got back in' even though that's the last thing either of them wants] Janis: [sighs not even a bit fake 'yeah' then doesn't move] Jimmy: [puts his arm around her waist like come on but doesn't move either] Janis: [puts hers around his neck 'but I just wanna be with you' and we're pretending that's fake but it's just tea] Jimmy: ['I won't leave you with 'em again' when you 100% mean that] Janis: ['Good' resting your head on his shoulder instead of moving] Jimmy: [stroking her hair nbd] Janis: [can't stay here forever lads, maybe people are actually starting to show up] Jimmy: [get back in lads and find you have a drink waiting because Mia is trying to be #fake nice too so draw the poison symbol on her arm with your fingertip and do an IRL 🤞 before downing it] Janis: [when you look for reactions with almost genuine concern she's such a snek then you down yours, cheersing at her from across the room] Jimmy: [kiss her for the romeo and juliet ref but also just cos you wanna] Janis: [we know the vibe, this could also be the party Mia bangs Pablo maybe? jussayin] Jimmy: [that's such a good idea actually because she's so mad that the squad are team jj and Asia's got a new bf and she's losing her control honey] Janis: [mhmm, that's what I thought, it's a fuck you in the bag, like] Jimmy: [I had the hilarious mental image of JJ doing whatever this era's equivalent of tiktok is with tall tammy like that's her thing™ cos Grace has youtube] Janis: [that's so funny lmao yes must] Jimmy: [hence Mia be fuming cos 💀#2 is the only one giving her the time of day rn] Janis: [truly the Lorraine of this situation] Jimmy: [and Grace is probably trying to get with someone Mia doesn't want her to because she's jealous of jj's love] Janis: [oh what a night] Jimmy: [such fun, but they should 'accidentally' fuck up the borrowed dress in some way by the end of this] Janis: [that's also an idea, plenty of ways that could happen, soz gal lol] Jimmy: [yeah they'll enjoy that and rich girl should have a heated indoor pool they can piss about with] Janis: [such a rich teen mood to jump in in your underwear, the other guests will, the flat whites just like nooooo] Jimmy: [Asia might but the rest of them would NEVER] Janis: [oh Asia, you fun loving gal] Jimmy: [get on that 🦎 bf in the pool like] Janis: [i'm loling, what other hijinks could happen] Jimmy: [I wish they could 'accidentally' push Mia in like oh soz we were playfighting and just happened to get in the way babes] Janis: [they should, 'cos then she'd also make them all go comfort her so it'd be like 1 point them but also 1 to her] Jimmy: [give jj a flat white break for a bit cos they'd all have to help her get ready all over again too] Janis: [exactly, oh how uncool of you, play it off girl, so extra] Jimmy: [if Jimmy chucked Janis in it'd be a different story, look listen and learn gal] Janis: [at least they didn't push Grace in, the actual meltdown of it all] Jimmy: [I could never, as much as she annoys me] Janis: [we all know Janis would but we're playing nice rn so no, hmm, they could commandeer her room and go through her shit lmao no shame, obvs pretending they're banging not just like 'scuse me nosy person coming through] Jimmy: [a nice throwback to school trip when they were meant to be punished but it was just fun] Janis: [exactly dr phil...bitch probably has a diary like be cliche about it] Jimmy: [take all the pics of that #goss in case you need it later, cos she'd know the most about Mia 💀 pact and all] Janis: [mhmm mhmm, you're obviously gonna find her binge stash but that's not news] Jimmy: [fatty boy gonna eat some of it though] Janis: [think Mia's helped herself lollll] Jimmy: [you're welcome for that little domestic ladies] Janis: [death pact drama, just sow all these seeds on the low] Jimmy: [just chucking her on the bed even though you're not meant to pick her up rn and tickling her/all that good messing about because you've GOTTA mess the bed up and no other reason] Janis: [we all know the show is getting put on as if people can see lowkey] Jimmy: [can't even blame them cos even if they shamelessly didn't want to, it's what they are so used to doing by now too] Janis: [we all know you do though and that ain't getting any easier lads] Jimmy: [tea] Janis: [like to think you're fresh out the pool now too 1. for max hotness 2. so her bed is soaked lol thanks] Jimmy: [100% approved] Janis: [just pondering what else can be done and said...Harry is probably here, 'cos of the Mia of it all, do we wanna do anything with that?] Jimmy: [she would 100% invite him so yeah we definitely should do something but what? hmmmm] Janis: [we could have Mia forcing a convo moment 'cos that bitch] Jimmy: [that's real because she so would] Janis: [then it's gonna be awkward between them 'cos he's gonna be mad and she'll wanna die] Jimmy: [cheers for making tomorrow's community service even more fun Mia] Janis: [just getting y'all out of that convo as fast as you can without giving Mia too much satisfaction with it, going to the garden to smoke after but being like 'I'll leave you to it'] Jimmy: [so awkward so moody] Janis: [always ending up hiding in a bathroom or spare room or some bullshit so you can have a moment] Jimmy: [at least it would be a massive house so she can] Janis: soz Jimmy: yeah I know Janis: everyone at this party is a cunt Janis: not surprising, I know Jimmy: hang on, gonna take ages for me to @ them all Janis: you gonna turn on me then Jimmy: why would I give her owt she wants? Janis: I'm not gonna dob you in to her, like Jimmy: you wanna have a scrap? Janis: Not with you Jimmy: leave it out then Janis: Alright Jimmy: 👍 Janis: take your own advice yeah Jimmy: meaning what? Janis: don't need to do a passive-aggressive 👍 just shh Jimmy: 👌 Jimmy: that better? Janis: 👍👍👍👍 Janis: that much better Jimmy: 🙄 Janis: if you've got nothing nice to say, don't emoji at me, dickhead Jimmy: how about you tell me how you reckoned this were gonna go and I'll fake the proper 🗨 for you Janis: Like I said, you don't need to say anything Janis: fake or otherwise Janis: I was just saying what I had to Jimmy: in a bit then Janis: Okay, come find me when you wanna or whatever Jimmy: come find me when you need owt Janis: Fine Jimmy: ✔ Janis: If I could undo it, I would Janis: I know it makes this shit needlessly more difficult Jimmy: don't worry, this is my piss easy job Janis: easier than serving them lattes? Jimmy: make it more obvious that you've never had to Janis: At least you don't have to spend this long fully focused on them at CG though Janis: is what I mean Jimmy: I ain't focused on 'em now Janis: only for as long as you can make a 🚬 last Jimmy: nah, they don't matter that much, is what I mean Jimmy: it's just bollocks Janis: yeah Janis: but we're still doing it Janis: so it must matter a bit Jimmy: the reasons I'm doing this is nowt to do with any of them Janis: I know the main reason Janis: but we don't need to be here for that Jimmy: the main reason were not making my life any harder, her dobbing us in has done that, so yeah, we do Janis: Yeah, it's payback Janis: so it is about her Janis: her getting some of her bullshit back won't unfuck what she's already done but might make us feel better about it Jimmy: it's about us, you just said it Jimmy: feeling better Janis: Alright Janis: it doesn't matter either way to me how you slice it Jimmy: if it doesn't matter, why are we 🗨 about it? Janis: I was asking how you found it easy Jimmy: Alright Janis: You didn't exactly answer but yeah Jimmy: you dunno 'cause you dunno nowt about me or what my life's like, there's your answer Janis: It's not that deep Janis: asking how partying with them could be easier than serving them isn't a crazy question Janis: if you don't want to answer, don't, it's fine Jimmy: like I said, if you'd ever done it you'd get that it's a bollocks question Janis: Well you know I haven't Jimmy: she ain't gonna treat me how she does there, she can't unless I were here to hand round the drinks Janis: she's a cunt Janis: I'm aware Jimmy: 🏆 Janis: she's incapable of not treating people like shit, no matter who you are to her Janis: she has them, her best friends, running 'round after her as much as she does you whenever she comes in Janis: that's what she is, I know that Jimmy: me an' all Janis: yeah, so no need to talk to me like I'm thick just 'cos I've never had to clean up after her Janis: known and been around the bitch much longer, I've had my fair share, don't worry Jimmy: I don't wanna talk about her, that's what I'm trying to get into your head Janis: We're at her party, we're doing this whole thing Janis: what else could we talk about Jimmy: nowt obvs Janis: right Jimmy: 🔈 Janis: 👍 loud and clear Jimmy: [come back in and get more drinks boy you can't 🚬 forever] Janis: [just hiding forever though] Jimmy: ? Janis: yes? Jimmy: I've got you a drink, where do you want it? Janis: Eh Janis: I'll come down Jimmy: leave all that enthusiasm up there, can't even handle how #extra that response were, my dear Janis: I'll be suitably gracious by the time I arrive, don't worry Jimmy: weren't about to lose any sleep Janis: sure, what's another fight at another party Janis: not counterintuitive at all Jimmy: I'm not gonna fight with you Jimmy: just come here Janis: Maybe I don't feel like not fighting Jimmy: I'm a dickhead, don't mean you've gotta be an' all Janis: you definitely don't get to own being a dickhead, tah very much Jimmy: I don't wanna fight with you, alright? Janis: [comes to get her drink in response] Jimmy: [hugs her in response because she knows that's a thing he genuinely does lately not a fake thing like kissing her or something would be] Janis: [hugs back of course] Jimmy: [gets her to dance with him because what better way to pretend that there's nobody else here just you two] Janis: ['mates?' when you'd have to whisper that in his ear and it's low-key the only reason you did it 'cos any excuse to be unreasonably close] Jimmy: [whispers back 'best mates' but it's said in such a flirty manner obvs] Janis: [😏 but 😍 on the low 'cos we can pretend they fake thanks party people, holds her pinky out like promise] Jimmy: [does promise of course and then just holding her hand doing some of the massage stuff from earlier on it so once again she knows it's real but it looks just like they being saucy and fake] Janis: ['I wish we were still in your bed' when you can just say it 'cos it sounds right but y'all don't even know] Jimmy: ['we can go back to mine whenever you're ready' because they have community service together in the AM anyway so it's believable that she would just stay because such a goals couple who are together 24 7 clearly] Janis: ['good' but your face on the low is like yeah right/I wish 'cos Ian hates you] Jimmy: [when you read her mind so you cup that adorable little face in your hands and you're like 'my dad's nowt to worry about' because you genuinely don't give a fuck but luckily it also sounds very romeo and juliet fuck our parents vibes so #goals] Janis: ['I don't care if you don't, but are you sure?' when you can just say what you mean and have it fit, this is so useful lmao] Jimmy: ['I just wanna be with you' because she literally said it earlier and meant it so I have to because #same] Janis: [soz gonna make out with you] Jimmy: [not soz because clearly so into it] Janis: [blurred lines remix] Jimmy: [mhmmm] Janis: [so glad your plan backfired, Mia] Jimmy: [I hope you and Harry both see this cos fuck y'all] Janis: [she's always watching lmao] Jimmy: [enjoy their love bitch] Janis: [the levels of get a room they are at rn has never been higher] Jimmy: [god bless, love that for you especially because as far as everyone knows you literally did get a room earlier but you were just snooping lol] Janis: [just like they insatiable, which is true but not yet lol Jimmy: [you know nobody's ever been that into any of the flat whites, sucks to suck ladies] Janis: [when parties make you sad 'cos people being 😍] Jimmy: [the realest] Janis: [you two gonna have to tone it down 'fore you alienate them totally rn] Jimmy: [I'm trying to think what else they could do to annoy Mia/win the rest over within this party setting] Janis: [hmm maybe some kind of game moment or similar vibe where they can just be really cute about each other with their answers so the rest are like awh idk] Jimmy: [yeah drinking games are always real and they could do some cute teamwork too but also pick a flat white to team up with maybe so Mia will be fuming] Janis: [basically be up for a laugh 'cos Mia is NEVER and discourages it like no, that's lame etc] Jimmy: [exactly they'd be living their best lives, except 💀#2] Jimmy: [they gonna win you over too though girl cos nothing will annoy Mia more] Janis: [gotta get her nearest and dearest, like but gonna have to play the long game with that one] Jimmy: [when he's gonna end up having fun even though he hates everyone but Janis highkey] Janis: [the mood] Jimmy: [you deserve it boy after all that bullshit with Ian and the like] Janis: [community service in the AM baby] Jimmy: [at least they're not drunk af this time so they won't have to do it really hungover] Janis: [and it's gonna lowkey be fun we know anyway even if they don't yet] Jimmy: [you're gonna love it lads] Janis: [again, they have not thought your punishment through here and I'm about it] Jimmy: [how real is that though, oh adults] Janis: [at least Grace can tell Cali she's at his and they will be suitably fuming, get the parental hate rolling on both sides] Jimmy: [yeah we gotta] Janis: [like you don't know safer than what her actual plan was, 'scuse you] Jimmy: [Yeah Grace would be happy that she's there like thank god] Janis: [least you're not dead vibes] Jimmy: [or gone forever who knows where] Janis: [like tomorrow night is anyone's guess lads] Jimmy: [just stay with him always girl we know you wanna] Janis: [obvs but how long can you fake stay with someone hmm] Jimmy: [how long can you guys share a bed and nothing happens more like lol] Janis: [exactly dr phil, can't exactly be on his sofa can you] Jimmy: [I was thinking for tonight we could cockblock them by saying Bobby and Twix are in his bed asleep when they get back cos miss him #adorable so he wakes up when they come in and Jimmy has to go sleep with him in his room because we all know if they share a bed rn we won't be able to stop something real happening even if that's only a kiss or something] Janis: [I accept that, we can always do online messages then too so] Jimmy: [soz about the levels of frustration though lads] Janis: [we're just cockblocking 'til it's silly we all know it] Jimmy: [you've brought this on yourselves, just say how you really feel or do something undeniable when you're alone] Janis: [my boo say say it you cowards] Jimmy: [I do, I'm mad which makes no sense because fake dating is my fave and that ends it junie you silly goose] Janis: [we don't/won't push it 'til it makes no sense lol, but we can move it to a place of 'we can just be fuck buddies and carry on the fake' as if that's not even more of a headfuck guys] Jimmy: [god bless, that'll be fun and games so we simply must make that more of a thing than we did before] Janis: ['cos it's a way to admit some shit, like yeah, obvs this chemistry is real but still be like, we don't LIKE each other though] Jimmy: [a very them thing to do we all know it] Janis: [see 'let's be mates' baby steps] Jimmy: [we are sneaky gals and I'm about it] Janis: [still, not tonight sweaties] Jimmy: [we could maybe have something happen at the rave/festival whichever that we've still gotta do though] Janis: [that is a good idea, and maybe they invite the flat whites to that so they have their tent near each other whatever and it's another thing Mia would HATE] Jimmy: [yaaaaas] Janis: [hohaha its a plan, you probably can leave this party now though and skip] Jimmy: [going hard because your tent is next to theirs but then it's less and less about that we 👀 you, but yeah for now you can go lads and have your night not end at all like how you want because we're rude like that] Janis: [shameless, but Imma just say night 'cos see above lol] Janis: 🛏💤 Jimmy: chuck the 🐕 out if it does your head in Janis: she's alright Janis: passed out ages ago Jimmy: bit of a lightweight Janis: just my magic touch, like Jimmy: give her a massage an' all? Jimmy: know how to make a lad feel special you 💔 Janis: 💔 Janis: nah, if you'd settle for head pats my life would be easier but here we are Jimmy: I've never said I wouldn't Jimmy: be proper goals any road, they don't want a lad, they want a pet Jimmy: 🐸 or 🦎 Janis: 😏 Janis: well I'm with PETA on this one Janis: rather it was a lad than some totally defenseless creature, like Jimmy: must be pissed if you're admitting how 💪🏆 I am Janis: Hardly Janis: but every lad they ever get their hands on at least gets a few punches in themselves Janis: if the 😭💔 is anything to go by, even if you halved it to account for dramatics Jimmy: must be 💕 then Janis: Clearly Janis: 🙄 Jimmy: what were it you said, if you ain't got nowt nice to say, don't emoji at me, dickhead Janis: you wouldn't complain if it were a 💘 Jimmy: so go on Janis: 🖤😎🥇 Jimmy: 😏 Janis: try harder Janis: those are your favourites, like Jimmy: 😍😍😍 Jimmy: Alright? Janis: I'll take it Jimmy: [sends her a pic of Bobby asleep all over him in this tiny bed like an adorable sos] Janis: Aww Janis: crazy night here too, obvs Jimmy: if you had socks on you'd wake up without 'em Jimmy: hardened criminal that 🐕 Janis: Sounds like a dubious cover for some #kinkunlocked behaviour tbh Janis: but I'll take your word for it Janis: even if she looks like an 😇 Jimmy: might be one of hers but I've 👀 and 🖐 your feet and you're alright, tah Janis: When you broke 'em, you mean Janis: hm Jimmy: bit rude Jimmy: it were your own fault Janis: You wanna go to bed on an argument then, alright Jimmy: you know I don't Janis: yeah Janis: feel a bit rude cussing you out when I know there's a kid like 😴 on your shoulder anyway Jimmy: you can always go through my shit if you're well mardy at me Jimmy: my diary's hidden proper Janis: 😏 Janis: wouldn't even be surprised if you had a diary Jimmy: piss off Jimmy: you know I can't read or write, Jenna Janis: picture book then Janis: even artier Jimmy: 🥔 prints Jimmy: get me in a northern gallery that Janis: don't be pissing about with 🥔 Janis: sacrilege Jimmy: coal then Janis: long as you keep it off your face Janis: know what you're like Jimmy: Oi Janis: I should be oing you Jimmy: we're playing nice, you agreed Janis: Don't you think I'm being nice? Jimmy: Don't make me come in there Janis: Or what Jimmy: I'll sort you out, girl Jimmy: bed time or nah Janis: yeah right Jimmy: Challenge accepted Jimmy: keep going, see if I don't Janis: You've never sorted me out before Janis: no reason to be 🙀 that tonight is any different Jimmy: [cue him going in for the flirtiest but quietest playfight they've EVER had because I have to] Janis: [what a moment bye] Jimmy: [the TENSION I cannot] Janis: [we dying boys] Jimmy: [like what are you gonna do now boy just leave like it never happened or are you gonna try and stay? I'd love to know] Janis: [lmao please tell] Jimmy: [can we let him or is that too dangerous oh the dilemma] Janis: you have slept with each other before like that but is either of you that sleepy rn hmm] Jimmy: [we know they're not tired we 👀 you] Janis: [mhmm, I'm like bitch don't you ask him to stay either] Jimmy: [I'll make him go back, we must be strong] Janis: [okay hehe] Jimmy: [unless something did happen and then it makes community service awkward oh ho] Janis: [that's an idea] Jimmy: [like if one of them freaks out somehow how they do and we've done before in other situations idk] Janis: [yeah, or is shamelessly ignoring lowkey tomorrow like that never happened, either one of them could, like] Jimmy: [yeah because y'all ain't even drunk so you can't use the don't remember excuse] Janis: [we all know you remember and there was no pretense of having a phone nearby or whatever] Jimmy: [the question is how far are we gonna let them go and who's taking the plunge] Janis: [hmm, we can save all the way for later, I think he should 'cos blatantly egging him like the whole time they're 'fighting' it's not subtext] Jimmy: [I agree with that and he's not gonna back down because the whole challenge and 'you've never sorted me out before' comment so he's clearly gotta in all the ways Harry has never] Janis: [Exactly, we know what she was saying there and so do they] Jimmy: [when he makes you feel amazing and then leaves like a sexy 👻 because the flimsy excuse of hearing someone and thinking your brother is awake again or something] Janis: [who's ignoring who tomorrow or are we both, what's the vibe of it] Jimmy: [I feel like he should ignore her because he did it so how real but how shady] Janis: [I vibe, then she can be mad and initiate the awkward convo/argument like 'scuse me] Jimmy: [yeah because she probably didn't get chance to do much to him because he was on a #mission with a point to prove so she's probably thinking it's a mmfd to be continued kind of situation like IOU boy and then he's so rude] Janis: [that's a plan, will post this one now though]

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prorevenge · 7 years ago

Text

Disrespect me? Get Shut Down and Blacklisted

So I used to work as a waiter at a fairly okay steakhouse around the US. Enjoyed my job, got great satisfaction from making people happy, had regulars who loved me and would only come in to see me (even long after the menu items they originally came for stopped being offered).

Well the company decides that this particular location needs a new General Manager. This is someone who was, as it turns out, fired from his last GM position for toxic behaviors including but not limited to sexual harassment of younger female staff.

A'ight, no big. I can roll with pretty much anything. Mostly because I’m very ‘out’ about being LGBT (specifically the T part) and surround myself with friends and family who are totally cool with that.

GM is an older gentleman, conservatively raised, and incredibly vocal about his personal politics (including, oddly enough, something about there being more trees in North America NOW than there has ever been, and how global warming is good because ‘all those trees need all that carbon dioxide anyway’). Odd fellow, not very well educated, but this is lower-end management at best anyway so what can you expect?

Well, as I’ve said, I was very much ‘out’ at work, and so would, when appropriate, gently remind my coworkers that certain pronouns are maybe… not the best used when referring to me. In reference to the GM, though this fellow would go out of his way to refer to me using an incorrect honorific- american south… Maam and Sir are just things everyone says regardless. It happens, I get that. But twice in every sentence is not an accident. Going out of his way to dig up my 'dead’ name (the name I used before transition)… also not an accident. Well, I’d been hearing from other staff that the new GM was being incredibly derogatory towards me when I wasn’t around as well, and decided that the mature thing to do would be to approach him in private and ask him about it. Maybe give him a chance to ask any questions he might have, or at least come to a mutual agreement (preferably one that doesn’t include deliberately-misgendering honorifics). Turns out he’d rather have that conversation at the front door, while guests of the restaurant are still entering and exiting, despite my repeated requests to talk to him in a more private place. I bring up my concerns. Not only are they true, but he’s been frothing at the bit to have this conversation with me, and spends the next solid twenty minutes lecturing me (I barely got in three full sentences- this man also doesn’t know that interrupting is inappropriate in a discussion). He brings up the fact that he has 'a degree in biology’… yeah so do I, but mine is thirty years more recent than his, guaranteed. He brings up the fact that it’s 'rude’, 'childish’, and 'stupid’ for me to even ask him to consider NOT using the honorific he’s decided is appropriate. He even goes so far to try to explain how chromosomes work to me. ….and.. clearly doesn’t understand at all how chromosomes work. In -any- species, H.sapiens included. So here’s the revenge part. I had taken about two weeks off, to be started the next day, in order to visit family in another part of the world for the first time in several years. So I simply went in the next day and told an office full of managers to.. not worry about putting me on the schedule come time. Two weeks off equals two weeks notice. No big. Got to fly the bird (In america, a rude gesture involving the middle finger alone) at GM who was in the office with other managers at the time. Now that I was no longer employed at company, I was free to speak of my experience without fear of consequence. So I spoke to friends. Spoke to allies. Spoke to legal teams. All about this obvious discrimination and attempted bullying by someone in a position of power, in a part of the United States with very, VERY defined fairness ordinances explicitly in place to prevent LGBT discrimination in a city that is known by the region as being a 'hub’ for LGBT treatment and opportunity and resources and community. Friends called HR. Other co-workers contacted me about issues they’d had with the GM in the same vein. I included these (dates, times, names, witnesses, contact information for those who consented) in my own formal report. More friends called HR. And then MORE friends called HR. So many people called to complain to the restaurants public resources team that they would no longer ever come to said restaurant if this was the kind of behavior that was accepted as representing the company…. That the company closed the entire location with a week, and the GM has apparently been utterly blacklisted from the restaurant business in the city/county due to this scandal. Apparently it was more money than it was worth to fight the scandal, and the restaurant chain decided to cut their losses and close the site entirely. (I would like to add that staff were heftily compensated/transferred/offered opportunities elsewhere and no one was 'kicked to the curb’ for being an innocent bystander) But it feels so good to pass by the now derelict building and think to myself “I did that. Frick that guy. That guy was awful.”

Update: JFGM... Who previously would brag about his house, with pictures, now lives in the apartment complex I do. And his wife/girlfriend/female flatmate now drives his big ugly truck more often than he does. (Or hell, maybe they divorced over him becoming unhireable in the only thing he half-assedly knows how to do and won the truck, I don't know)

((Since there wasn't anywhere really relevant to add this detail, the JFGM wasn't even especially good at being a GM. We would repeatedly run out of six ounce sirloins, as well as fries, on a friday or saturday night. The location was hemorrhaging money because of this GM even before the incident. Which no doubt added greatly to the decision to close down "The Original ...." ))

#submission #pro revenge #by aveimperatormagnus #prorevenge #pro revenge stories #revenge #pro #Revenge Story #revenge stories #updated

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voidfishersong · 6 years ago

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nara hallwood, sadie brown, nayeli contreras. Also u have permission from me 2 answer for all of the others in other posts if u want. Or I could send more asks don’t underestimate me

god u suck. but sure. i dare you. ask them all, one by one (or two by two).

and I’m gonna do them one by one because otherwise this post will be too long so: Nara first!

Full Name: Nara HallwoodGender and Sexuality: male, mostly straight but not 100%Pronouns: he/himEthnicity/Species: EgyptianBirthplace and Birthdate: bro idk. if I ever knew I definitely forgotGuilty Pleasures: sugar and cream in coffee and tea even though he’s usually against added sugars. his wife is the only one who knows and they still pretend she doesn’t know. added sugar is unhealthy, Mista, you’re going to die if you keep eating lollipops. why is my coffee light, well, I don’t know, you must be imagining thingsPhobias: he doesn’t have any true phobias but his biggest fear would probably be drowningWhat They Would Be Famous For: my first thought for this was ‘james bond’ and I can’t really back that up, but I’m putting it down anyway. but Nara’s not big on being in the spotlight so I can’t think of anything more sensicalWhat They Would Get Arrested For: he works at as a PI but he’d totally get in trouble for getting information in really illegal ways just because he didn’t think about the fact that they’re illegal. he very much does Things and then wonders whether or not they were okay to do.OC You Ship Them With: Mista Hallwood, his wife, in a purely platonic ship. Mista is aroace but they’re a cute sort-of-couple, and they’ve got an adopted kid, too, but it is 100% platonic. I also ship him with Yuli, who’s his coworker and girlfriend (these are all consensual, informed relationships). And I kinda ship him with An? I don’t fully know what their relationship was, Nara worked as An’s bodyguard when he was a young adult and An wasn’t entirely together so I think he (An) wanted Nara and I think Nara wanted An sometimes but I doubt anything ever came of itOC Most Likely To Murder Them: Fallane wants to fight Nara and capitalismFavorite Movie/Book Genre: oh probably rom-coms because he discovered them on his own and he likes to antagonize Mista with references to them. I feel like he might like mystery stories tooLeast Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: the Strong Female Character who always prefaces her shit with ‘it’s cause I’m a girl, isn’t it’ or like ‘I can shoot cause I grew up on a farm’ or all those other things. u know what I meanTalents and/or Powers: he’s super fit and good at fighting. like, every way you can fight, he either knows it or is learning it. he’s extra extra good with a sword but he’s just pretty badass anyway. no supernatural powers, that’s for everyone else he’s ever in any sort of relationship with. he’s also really good at reading people, like telling what kind of background they had. that doesn’t mean he empathizes well it just means he can be like ‘oh I bet you were __’ and pisses people offWhy Someone Might Love Them: he really develops as a person but still maintains a degree of youthful enthusiasm. he’s cute, too, in like that middle-aged cool professor kind of cute, but without being a professor and he’s not that cool lol. he’s also one of those characters who knows exactly what he wants from the world (which is for people to be safe, always, regardless of their history) and isn’t afraid to get it. this ‘verse has a lot of morally grey characters but Nara has one of the clearest sets of morals of any character. even if sometimes he does things that I might think are questionable, he doesn’t think so. also sometimes he’s floundering because that’s what happens when you force time-travel and get someone from ancient times into modern times and there’s language barriers, cultural barriers, and once you get past that there’s just funny shit like why would you ever need whipped cream. you don’t even need cream SO WHY DID YOU PUT IT IN A CAN AND SPRAY IT what do you mean I can’t bring my sword into the airport (that doesn’t happen because I’m not that cliche and something like that is very easy to explain quickly. whipped cream is far less sensical)Why Someone Might Hate Them: if you like this ‘verse, you probably like it for Fallane, and Nara is often opposed to Fallane. Nara can be really, really optimistic, and he tends to see things as very black and white, right and wrong, which might be grating for people. also we’re still working on teaching him why class divisions aren’t good and should be stopped but we’re getting thereHow They Change: when he’s young (and in his native time period) he’s very, very bold and confident that his way is the right way and everything is either 100% right or 100% wrong and this extends to people. he either doesn’t see their flaws or doesn’t see their value and he’s not good at responding to new information and changing his mind. when he meets the MCs, and after like at least a decade, he starts understanding the world on its terms instead of his terms, although he doesn’t lose his optimism and his conviction that good will prevail. he also learns to take responsibility for his actions and to recognize that all people - including himself - make mistakes, and those mistakes don’t invalidate their potential as a person.Why You Love Them: I love how he develops, and I love that despite that, he doesn’t lose his belief in what’s right. he’s a foil to Fallane, and I love that, too, and I love how much Nara changed from his initial conception as fairly plot-device-y to become a fully fleshed character with relationships of his own and subplots. he’s also just adorable,

#ocs #nara hallwood

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spade-anon · 7 years ago

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The Coffee Shop AU

TITLE; The Coffee Shop AU

PAIRING; Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson

SUMMARY; Within the last two hours of a cafe’s working day, the schedule was simple; wipe the tables; sweep the floors or any other messes; and count the cash made. Occasionally customers would still come in but not so much as in the earlier hours however that didn't mean there were non. On this particular day Alexander would be working on the cash register.

AUTHORS NOTE; personally Jamilton isn't my exact jam(ilton) (I'm funny I swear,,) but this was for a friend so I hope its okay??

TAG LIST; unavailable (hmu if you want to be added?)

Within the last two hours of a cafés working day, the schedule was simple; wipe the tables; clean up any messes, sweep the floor; count the money made that day. Occasionally there'd still be customers coming in but no so much at the end of the day, but it was still a possibility. On this particular day, Alexander would be working at the cash register, usually when counting the money you'd wait till you've only a few minutes of work left so he peacefully watched his surroundings. His coworker (and not to forget, friend), John Laurens, sweeping the café floor as he hummed along to the song currently playing on the radio. Alexander couldn't quite pin point what the song was but knew it must be something fairly modern or in the charts, a girl by the name of Maria organised the cafés music, her taste was... decent. It wasn't exactly Alexander preference but he could stand it just enough to work. He much preferred Fallout Boy, of course in a more casual way rather than a 'middle school emo' way. His thoughts seemed to be pulled away by the click of the front door, a little bell sounding after it; Lafayette. Alexander didn't know much of the man except his relationship with John. Lafayette would usually come in near the end of Johns shift and drive him home, from what Alexander had observed in the past, the two seemed to be dating but he couldn't be sure. Sure, they'd call each other babe, but many people do that in a platonic way nowadays, right? Another coworker of Alexander's looked up at the door, that worker was Hercules Mulligan, he wasn't the best at his job but currently needed it till he saved up enough to buy his own tailoring store. He also seemed to have a weird relationship with Lafayette, Hercules would watch the man and seem more skittish or nervous around him. Maybe they knew each other.

"Hey Alex! Can you lock up tonight?" John says, causing Alexander to set his concentration on him once again. It seemed to be that whenever Lafayette came, John left, that caused most of his shifts to end early. The reason that Alexanders attention seemed to keep shifting was most likely caused by his lack of sleep, he couldn't help it, as well as having a part time job he also attended college! One may simply joke that he's writing at night like he's running out of time!!

It took him a few seconds to process Johns question, "oh, yeah.. yeah I can do that."

At those words, a wide smile spread across Johns face, his smiles were always like that, they were contagious too. It was almost impossible to see John smile and not smile yourself. He throws the café keys in Alexanders direction, Alexander almost tripping to catch them, he then looks towards Hercules,

"You can finish sweeping for me, right? I know Washington will go ballistic if it isn't done.." ah yes, George Washington. George Washington owned the café alongside his wife, Martha Washington, the two had started the café a few years after they'd married.

Hercules chuckles lightly, "uh-huh.." he mumbles, he seemed to look towards Lafayette rather than John before looking back down, it was hard to tell, the two were stood together after all. Quickly after that, the two left, John had changed out of his work clothes and exited with Lafayette, the two hand in hand. Perhaps they were a couple...

Another thirty minutes went by, those were slow but after those, another click of the door and a bell went off. A man had entered, one Alexander couldn't really recognise. He was fairly tall and wore a magenta jumper over some sort of button up shirt, it seemed white in the cafés lighting. Alexander sighs, the café would be closing in less than an hour, why would someone come now!

"Hi, welcome to the Washington Café, how may I help you?" The enthusiasm and cheerful nature in Alexanders voice was clearly faked.

The man didn't pay much attention, looking up to the menu, "uh, I'll have a vanilla bean latte with soy milk." He seemed to say that smoothly, almost too smoothly... that was way to casual for someone ordering coffee! Or whatever the fuck a latte is, honestly Alexander doesn't know and just wants to go home.

"And the size would be?"

This time, the man actually look at Alexander, something must've amused him, he seemed to be holding in a laugh, "sh-short," he says airly, almost letting out his laugh. Was that a comment on Alexanders height? Sure, he wasn't the tallest but he also wasn't a midget!

"By that would you mean extra small, or small?" Maybe a slight annoyance was clear but it was easily overlooked.

The man smirks, "nah, I'll have a medium," Alexander hums and grabs a medium and a pen, "Thomas, by the way."

Alexander would say, 'oh no, I don't need your name, I was just going to draw a dick because that's what you are, a megacock!" except he didn't say that, he merely mumbled out the price and gave Hercules the cup to make the drink. As he watched the man go to sit down, Alexander couldn't help he feel this 'Thomas' was familiar. He had known a Thomas in high school but he wasn't really on good terms with that Thomas.

Alexander had braces in high school, that caused a little bit of bullying, he also happened to be on a debate team. The person who he had debated the most? Thomas Jefferson. Oh, he remembered that boy, he remembered him very well. The two were pretty much enemies yet still... had a peculiar relationship. An art cupboard type of relationship, come to think of it, it was wrong. Alexander had a girlfriend at the time, a happy-go-lucky girl by the name of Elizabeth Schulyer, more often referred to as Eliza. However, Thomas and Alexander also had a strange relationship in the way that one would bully the other, make them a target.

By the time Hercules had finished the latte for 'Thomas', Alexander had also finished counting today's money. Of course he'd be giving the beverage to the costumer, Hercules had made a quick escape, claiming walking to a table was far too much work! At this, Alexander couldn't help but roll his eyes, after delivering said drink, he went to change out of his work attire, 'Thomas' seemed sensible enough to be left alone for a few minutes, besides Alexander wouldn't be able to leave until Thomas had so it's not like it really mattered.

Grabbing a bottle of water, he notices the man was still drinking his latte, Hercules had already left so that left Alexander with no choice but to make conversation with Thomas. Yes, he could've said quiet but that would just be tense.

He sits across the table from Thomas.

"So what's your deal anyway?" That could be phrased better.

"Excuse me?" Thomas raises a brow confused by the conversation starter used.

"I mean, I assume you're Thomas Jefferson, you treat me like shit in high school then you come here and act like it's nothing!"

At this, Thomas breathes through his nose, "people change, Hamilton, I'd assume you of all people would know that. Besides, it isn't like a planned on running into you." He scoffs, sipping his coffee, "maybe you need more lessons on how life works."

Struggling to undo the bottle cap of his water, Alexander bitterly shoots out a, "oh, believe me, I got enough of those last time we met.."

Yes, perhaps that did sound like some kind of innuendo, but please be assure that in no way did the two ever hook up. Perhaps they had kissed a few times, but that was an experiment, nothing more!

"Anyway, how's that boyfriend of yours doing, James was it?" Alexander knew James and Thomas had never dated but it was simply to easy to reference towards it happening to not do so! Thomas grunts, leaving Alexander answerless, there's a minute of quite before he revived a reply,

"And I suppose you and Eliza are still doing well?"

Well, it seems Thomas knew how to pull some triggers too, Alexander and Eliza had broken up in their senior year after he'd been caught cheating on her under the school bleachers. This whole situation was almost too perfect, the two weren't hating per say but simply exchanging banter and surprisingly nothing had gotten physical, was this the so-called 'coffee shop AU' twelve year old 'yaoi lovers' absolutely loved to reference?

"So.. um.. you got hot over he years I suppose? Got over your acne at least." Alexander awkwardly taps the side of his bottle, it was hard to have a conversation without him complimenting someone.

"I could say the same for you, finally got rid of your braces," heh, those were a pain, especially since when he had them he was dating Eliza who also, coincidentally, happened to have braces too. Making out was terrifying, they had heard stories of people getting their braces tangled and didn't want the same to happen to them.

"Hm, maybe we should hang out again sometime.. I don't remember us to be too close but we're... adults now..." Alexander had to be rational, try not to add 'i mean, you drink soy now!' onto the end of his sentence.

"Maybe we should," with that Thomas stood up, "I'd give you my number but that just seems to easy~" although Thomas was turned away from Alexander, Alexander was able to tell that he was smirking. With that, Thomas had swiftly thrown his empty cup in the bin and left leaving Alexander still sat within the café, a water bottle in one hand and a slightly surprised look on his face. He had watched Thomas walk down the road and round the corner before placing his head in his hands, "what the fuck was that, Alex!" He questions to himself, shaking his head slightly. He probably would've reacted differently but his shift had ended by now and all he had to do was lock up, maybe once he arrived home he'd look Thomas up on Facebook. Would that be a stretch? Did Thomas even have Facebook, gosh, he didn't know but one thing Alexander did know was that he would make sure this wasn't his last meeting with Thomas!

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nixonthedark · 4 years ago

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Trump by 10m

Prediction. Trump Win by 10,000,000 Votes

by Nixon the Dark

I know there's a few days left, but I'll predict and risk: Trump wins popular vote by 10,000,000. I see his support in subtle ways on Twitter. And it’s huge despite Twitter doing everything it can to suppress that idea from getting out.

I don't trust Twitter polls. But I believe anecdotal Twitter comments are a barometer of truth. They are resistant to "comm-botification" (commodified bots). They have the feel of conversation. And they take a bunch of different forms. If they are mimetic (viral), they have the same message, but no two are alike. They're phrased uniquely.

On political Twitter, the vast majority of voting anecdotes go one direction: people who didn't vote Trump in 2016 but will vote for him now.

By a factor of at least 50 to 1, I see these comments as opposed to the reverse (people who voted for Trump in 2016 but now will vote for Biden). And they come in all varieties. It is not just "I voted against Trump in 2016, I'm voting for him now." Commenters only occasionally refer to themselves. As often, they also mention their relatives, neighbors, coworkers, etc. (people who may not be on Twitter).

Are these a reliable barometer? Yes.

Here was my clincher. In early October, a scientist (definitely not a conservative) with 1.2m followers recently tweeted that his life-long Republican relative decided to vote for Biden. Whenever I see these comments, and I looked a lot of places for them, I ready every comment available.

One of the reply comments caught on: this scientist was fishing for replies of agreement ("low key Biden polling"). Why? Because people copy each other. We’re mimetic. If we hear about a Trump defector, and we are one, we chime in. How could we not? Trump is the most hated president since Lincoln and his haters online have no fear of repercussion. So if Twitter was filled with Trump defectors, his is how you’d find them. Tease them out via mimicry.

There were a few. Obviously. But only a few? This guy has 1.2m followers and it's three weeks to the election! What are these people waiting for? The Trump-converted folks, the ones who do fear social repercussion, have not been shy about sharing their anecdotes.

The same people who have been talking shit about Trump on Twitter non-stop for 5 years couldn't be bothered to share their own stories of people who they also know who abandoned Trump since 2016? Why not? Where is the uncertain suburban housewife or girlfriend? Is she keeping quiet? Why doesn’t this anecdote go viral?

Because Trump is so hated by Twitter users, who are commenting and saying all manner of mean things about him. The defector is always welcome when he or she does share their story. Welcome with open arms.

But in fairness to them, suppose they are shy. They’re voting for Biden. There’s no enthusiasm for him. It is a little embarrassing. I have no doubt there are some Trump defectors who are keeping quiet. But why aren’t they represented as “my wife” or “my husband” by some other Twitter user? There are. But it’s always only a handful among thousands of comments.

If this scientist, among the many other parts of anti-Trump Twitter I’ve visited, can’t generate a viral anecdote, it doesn’t exist. Keep in mind, Twitter is an information war battlefield filled with lies and truths. Despite that, these Trump haters, who would do anything to get him out of office, can’t even be bothered to simply make up fake Trump defectors. There is no army of anecdote Twitter bots sharing their stories of leaving Trump.

Trump lovers, en masse, are not creating false local anecdotes by the thousands. And Trump haters aren't either. This phenomenon, the impulse to echo an anecdote, is very “lie resistant.”

Obviously, much of the scientist's thread was filled with "liar" memes (pro-Trump people saying the Trump defector comment was a lie) and many varied strains of Trump hate. Also, even worse for Biden, plenty of the comments again told the opposite story. The comment thread designed to trigger people to come out of the woodwork to proclaim they’ve walked away from Trump did the opposite. Trump won the thread by about 2-to-1.

He wins most such threads. Only on a few comment threads I found specifically by partisans bragging about Trump defection, did Biden win the anecdote battle. On the rest, Trump won bigly.

The people who hate Trump say things like "He'll finally lose" "landslide Biden" "worst thing for our country" etc. But they don’t mimic the anecdote. In other words, the people who proudly proclaim Biden will win never volunteer anecdotes about voters they know. They reflect their Trump hatred/Biden optimism by point to polling data. And think that their own echo chamber of Trump hate confirms the polling.

Yes, this is unscientific. It’s a hunch. But to accept that there may be some nefarious information war afoot, I’ll concede there’s a few pro-Trump bots making all these unique comments. If you cut the number in half, Trump converts outnumber Trump defectors by 25 to 1.

In my personal life, people I know, unrelated to anything on Twitter, including myself, Trump is net 15 votes ahead. Of everyone I know and speak to anecdotally, I fit this profile. I was anti-Trump in 2016. Pro-Trump now. I know several others like me and I do not have a single known Trump defector in my social circle. I know plenty of people that hated him in 2016 and hate him now. Nobody who loved him then and hate him now.

Other supporting reasons.

Separate twitter anecdotes that don't qualify as polling but serve similar purpose: many anonymous/disaffected liberals now stating the obvious, that their vocal minority is out of control with rioting and terrorism. And as many of us notice, the vocal Dems are now at Nazi-level open hatred and disgust.

Other observations in support of this prediction.

The weekend of October 10, I watched a handful of Joe's recent campaign stops. Turned the sound down and fast-forwarded through them. Only looked for one thing: citizen supporters. I don't see them. He gave a recent speech in an AZ or NM shopping plaza. Based on what was on-screen, there were ten times as many handlers, media, and photo-op human props (like a kid wearing a sombrero doing a lasso trick) as citizen supporters. The attendance is so sparse and the energy so lifeless, that my lying eyes tell me the general public doesn't care, at all, about Joe.

If there were throngs of people, the cameras would show them, even if doing so had a "superspreader" implication. They know the value of seeing energy and excitement for the candidate is way more important than looking like COVID hypocrites. The benefit drastically outweighs the cost, especially considering rank hypocrisy has never stopped the Left before. So there's no basis to assume thousands of people came to hear him speak. He gets "dozens".

The counterargument: Biden supporters are enthusiastic, but respect the danger of COVID and are staying indoors. If so, the media would reflect the enthusiasm in other ways. I'm exposed to a lot happening on the left. I NEVER see anything about a Biden speech go viral in a good (for him) way. CNN/MSNBC kiss Kamala's ass and are pro-Biden, but do they ever even show clips of Biden making a compelling point in a campaign speech?

Are the MSM airwaves dominated by Biden on the stump? Barely. You have to look for his speeches. MSM’s coverage ranking: 1. about Trump, 2. about Biden (positive only), 3. about Kamala, and finally, 4. (almost never) coverage of Biden. They had to stop showing coverage of Trump because it was persuading away too many of their viewers. The difference between coverage about and coverage of is massive.

If there was anything worthwhile coming from Joe's mouth, it would dominate the MSM and YouTube would shove it down my throat. Instead, they hide it. It is a hollow coalition. I see about 50,000 voting for Joe Biden. About 30,000,000 will vote against Trump. And another 20,000,000 will vote Democrat because they always do. And maybe 10,000,000 dead people also vote Biden.

Scott Adams recently noted that every metric that can be rigged favors Biden and every metric that can't be rigged favors Trump. I would add: all the reasons suggesting a Biden win are abstract. All the reasons suggesting a Trump win are tangible.

Abstract: Leftists say Trump will lose, DUH, because he's a terrorist, racist, incompetent, etc. Abstract: other random people on twitter say they hate Trump. Abstract: "look at the polls." Abstract: MSM's eternal "walls are closing in" narrative about Trump.

Tangible: 10x as many Trump parades around the country as Biden (all better attended). Tangible: the above-referenced anecdotes (25x over the reverse). Tangible: massive red shift in voter registrations all over the place. Tangible: Trump's campaign has been knocking on doors for over a year while Biden's team has just started. Tangible: huge numbers of Trump trolls frequently showing up at Biden events. Tangible: Warren, Dr. Jill, Bernie, etc., speaking to miniscule crowds while WalkAway crowds are massive. Tangible: the Reign of Terror by the hard-left scaring ordinary citizens into silence or preference falsification ("Yes, I'm voting for Biden, please don't murder me too").

I still allow that my own bubble may be shielding me from Biden supporters despite my efforts. Thus, I keep looking. I like the comedy of Trump winning big electoral and losing by 20,000,000. But I suspect the citizens in these blue enclaves will finally let the Dems have it.

There are several massive Trump gatherings in California, of all places. Thousands of citizens, in the bluest of blue states, marching just to show love for Trump. They weren't there to see Don Jr. or Pence or some surrogate. Just Trump love. Even though for many their votes won’t count electorally. But they’ll pull the lever for him anyway.

There were two big Trump sign in my area (a nice neighborhood). Both defaced. A Denver news channel hired someone to murder a Trump supporter on October 10. Supporters know they're at personal risk in any Trump gathering, yet they go anyway. Brings tears to my eyes. If this is the visual for "out of the closet" Trump support, the closeted Trump support is also massive, and much bigger than 2016.

Not predicting the deepest blue states go red. But the eye test tells me that even these states will have way more red turnout than usual.

I helped one of my non-voting friends register. He wants to vote for Trump just as a middle finger to LeBron for shoving leftist garbage down his throat as an NBA fan.

The curious silences.

First, Obama. He gave a ho-hum Zoom speech at the convention. To my knowledge, he hasn't given any big speeches since. If he has, the MSM isn't covering it. There are three weeks left and he's MIA? Extremely suspicious. Fear of "superspreader" stigma is not enough of a reason for him to be so quiet.

Second, no Clintons? A few sound bits and quotes and that's it. They are really old. Maybe legit COVID risk. And being so unpopular, there are at least real reasons for them to not make big appearances.

Third, what about celebrities? I understand they can't do huge, "star-studded" concerts with COVID. But nothing is stopping them from putting on a show or grabbing headlines. Yet they're quieter than usual. I don't think it's because they finally, humbly, realized they are doing more harm than good.

From all I observe, the only people really campaigning for Joe and Kamala are Joe and Kamala (plus some of their foot soldiers like Bernie, Liz Warren, Peter Mayor). It's rather quiet on the Left establishment front. They've been talking about how awful Trump is for 5 years. But now, when it matters the most, they aren't really acting like it the way they usually do.

I expect in the last couple weeks we'll see some big names on the stump. But why the wait? Isn't it crunch time already? Trump is the most hated Republican by their establishment ever. And it's not even close. Yet aside from pundits, NBA/SNL/Colbert/etc., and people talking shit on twitter/podcasts, it's like the big names are keeping a low profile. The dark money is flowing big time, and big tech is doing it's thing. But I see none of the normal "final push" noise you expect to see.

As of October 29,2020, more celebrities have come out to campaign. Obviously. But the energy isn’t quite there. At all.

Finally.

There are other metrics working in Trump’s favor. College campuses are a ghost town. There will not be the normal election day parties at the polls. College kids overwhelmingly vote liberal. But they don’t overwhelmingly vote. If not at college, where guys can possibly use a trip to the polls as an opportunity to get laid, he probably won’t do the same from his high school bedroom. Will 19-year-old girls be rushing to the polls to yank a lever for Joe Biden?

Conclusion.

Trump will be re-elected. Trump will win the popular vote. Trump will win it by a shocking margin. Shocking to people who put their faith only in their own hatred of him and the polls constructed by people with equivalent hatred.

Donald Trump’s initial nomination as the Republican candidate in 2016 had more impact on America than the prior four presidencies combined. His initial victory had more impact than the four before that. His full first term had more impact than the four before that. His legacy is already, in one term, on par with that of Franklin Roosevelt.

Joe Biden campaigned like he was running for Mayor of Scranton, PA. Donald Trump campaigned like he was running for President against Abraham Lincoln. The result on Tuesday will reflect that, but not as much as it should. Barring tragedy, it will take at least 10 years from the date he leaves office before it becomes clear that he should have won by 100,000,000.

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heyeulalie · 5 years ago

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More of the Backstory

I’m going to try to tell this story as concisely as possible.

So I am 35 and single. So very, very unhappily single.

About 5 years ago I left a relationship I shouldn’t have been in. He was an atheist and we had been living together and sleeping together. I had always been afraid to be alone and had jumped from relationship to relationship since I was a teenager. I was in my late 20′s and he and I were dating around the time a lot of my friends were starting to get married. I hoped that if we just really acted like we were married we would eventually get married and everything would be okay in God’s eyes.

But as time passed and I got closer and closer to God I felt like God was telling me to leave my boyfriend. Deep down I knew that relationship wasn’t what I really wanted either. I wanted to be with someone who also had a relationship with God, even though the prospect of starting all over again seemed absolutely terrifying.

I jumped and God caught me. My friend from church offered to let me move in with her, and three days after my ex and I broke up I was offered a job on staff at my church. It wasn’t easy, but God surrounded me so closely with His people in a time when I was so hurt and raw and vulnerable.

Leaving that relationship was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It wasn’t so much about the relationship, as it was about completely abandoning my old unhealthy way of relating to people and deciding, once and for all, that God’s way really is the best way.

Watching my entire life crumble, and losing all the closeness and intimacy I had been used to only to be replaced with a lot of work was crushing.

One day I asked God, in tears, that if it was His will for me to be single and alone forever that I didn’t want to be alive. I told Him I couldn’t and wouldn’t kill myself. I knew it was wrong and I also just couldn’t do that to my parents, but I very seriously asked God to please end my life.

It turns out that praying for death isn’t a good prayer to pray. God is a God of life, He wants to give us life abundantly. If we’re in Him we’re always alive anyway - so praying for death is basically praying against His will. I know this now, but I did not know it then. The only example in the Bible I could think of was Elijah, who asked God to let Him die. God never reprimanded him for his prayer - but instead sent an angel to bring him a snack.

Anyway, I prayed very seriously asking God to let me die, and then got up to take a shower because I had to go to work again. I was sobbing in the shower, my thoughts racing, when I heard a voice in my head. It wasn’t an audible voice, but it was calm in a way that none of my own thoughts had been. I had noticed that God sometimes speaks to me by dropping a word in my head, so I try to at least pay attention when it happens. Sometimes it’s just my own random thoughts, but sometimes I do think it really is God.

The voice said “Tobit”.

I had no idea what a tobit was, but if it might be God trying to tell me something I figured I might as well look it up. It turns out that Tobit is a book that is in the Catholic Bible, but not the version of the Bible I had. I had never heard of it. I started to read it and started sobbing again.

Tobit is a righteous man living in the wicked city of Ninevah. One day he is struck blind, and prays, very sincerely, asking for God to let him die. Sarah lives in Media. She has been engaged seven times, but each one of her fiances dies just before the wedding day. She is extremely ashamed and doesn’t want to live. She tells God she can’t commit suicide because she can’t make her father suffer, but she asks God to take her life.

And this was how God answered their prayers for death in Tobit Chapter 3:

“6 At that very time, the prayer of both of them was heard in the glorious presence of God. 17g So Raphael was sent to heal them both: to remove the white scales from Tobit’s eyes, so that he might again see with his own eyes God’s light; and to give Sarah, the daughter of Raguel, as a wife to Tobiah, the son of Tobit, and to rid her of the wicked demon Asmodeus. For it fell to Tobiah’s lot* to claim her before any others who might wish to marry her. At that very moment Tobit turned from the courtyard to his house, and Raguel’s daughter Sarah came down from the upstairs room.“

I just had no words. Sarah’s prayer had been almost exactly my prayer, and take this to mean what you will, but I felt like God was saying that He wasn’t going to let me die, but that He was going to heal me and bring me a husband.

This really felt to me like a promise from God, and it’s something I’ve been holding on to and honestly trying to figure out how to steward well. I believe God told me this to give me hope through a very dark, hard season, but I’ve been through times when I think maybe I’ve held on to this promise more than to God, and wondered if even a promise from God can be an idol. I have to keep laying it down again and trusting that if this is really His will then it is completely safe in His hands.

I’m still trying to figure this all out.

For about three years I felt like God was stopping me from dating every time I tried. Instead I felt like He just wanted me to focus on trying to make friends with other believers.

Again, it was a whole new thing for me. I hadn’t grown up going to church so the concept of having Christian friends, or the fact that it could be important to have friends who share your beliefs was pretty foreign to me. Church people didn’t feel like safe people to me because they weren’t like my old friends - most of them weren’t nerdy and I always felt a little less than around them. I felt like most of them were better than me and didn’t know how to feel like I was on even footing with them, even though I knew, intellectually, that we’re all equal in Jesus’s eyes.

Through all of this God uncovered so much junk from my past that was inhibiting in my relationships in general. I felt extremely rejected and ostracized as a kid, and took rejection on as my identity. Growing up I felt like a total outcast until guys suddenly started noticing me and being attracted to me. Their attention gave me a value that I hadn’t been able to find in myself, and from then on I always felt like I needed to have a boyfriend in order to have the same value that normal people just have inherently.

I also felt extremely rejected and ostracized by average people, but among other rejects I felt extremely loved and seen and valued, probably because most of the attention from guys was coming from that circle of friends. I was constantly categorizing the people I met as “safe person” or “unsafe person” based on whether or not they seemed like a rejected person. I felt like the only people who wouldn’t reject me were other rejects, so therefore they were the only safe types of people to befriend.

I built a whole elaborate system to avoid being rejected, which really just put a huge limit on the types of people I allowed myself to get to know. Even in my dating relationships, I would, for the most part, intentionally choose someone I thought was a little bit “less than” me - less attractive, less healthy - so I would feel safe knowing that he would have to be crazy to reject me. Ultimately though, these relationships were never satisfying because, deep down I wanted someone who would challenge me and be on my level, even though I was too scared to go after it.

When I prayed about dating, I felt like God was giving me permission to go on dates and meet people, but He just kept telling me that He was going to send someone to me and I didn’t need to go out looking. I ultimately needed to wait for God to move. A church service I went to that week taught on Habakkuk 2:

“Then the Lord answered me and said:

“Write the vision And make it plain on tablets, That he may run who reads it. 3 For the vision is yet for an appointed time; But at the end it will speak, and it will not lie. Though it tarries, wait for it; Because it will surely come, It will not tarry.”

They printed these verses in the church bulletin and I hung it on my mirror, trying to remind myself of what I felt like God was saying to me. Though it tarries, wait for it.

Then, a few weeks later, my very first boyfriend from middle school reached out to me. I hadn’t spoken to him in about 20 years. Of course I wondered if maybe this was who God was sending, but I wasn’t sure. He wasn’t a believer, so I didn’t think so, but it was nice to catch up with him. He had moved to Canada when we were kids, and he and I, at the tender age of 13, had tried to maintain a long distance relationship over the brand new invention of the internet for a few months.

But the whole thing got me starting to think about what I really wanted, and how I really wouldn’t mind moving if I met the right person.

Shortly afterward my roommate let me know that she had just got engaged and that she wouldn’t be renewing our lease. Again, it seemed like door was closing and I was wondering where God was wanting me to go next, and if He really was wanting me to move somewhere else.

I prayed, telling God that if He wanted me to move somewhere that I would go in a heartbeat, He just had to tell me where to go.

Around this time I felt like God wanted me to sit down and think about what I really wanted in life, and in a husband. I felt like this list could be as ridiculous and impossible-sounding as I wanted. This is what I wrote down on November 1:

-To pay off my student debt

-To lose about 30 pounds in a healthy way and stay healthy (I actually did this, praise God!!)

-My own apartment/condo/townhouse with a gym, pool and a porch that is quiet, safe, and free from bugs and mold, with a washer and dryer and is close to work. And to make enough money to decorate and make it feel like my own.

-To make comics for a living and be picked up by a publisher, to write and create with God - for the stories to eventually become movies or a TV series. Possibly start my own animation studio? Or build a team to make comics?

- A new car? Maybe a hatchback? One that works well and doesn’t looks so beat up.

-To find a kind, creative, intelligent, witty man who loves Jesus to marry

- To have a circle of friends that are also kind, creative, intelligent and motivated that love Jesus

-Maybe eventually get a french bulldog puppy?

-Visit Canada!

Then, 13 days later, I met someone at my friend’s wedding. He was the groomsman I was paired with and was my friend’s husband’s best friend. He looked nerdy - kind of short and awkward with glasses, and he made a reference to “Arrested Development”, so I liked him immediately. We didn’t talk much at the wedding, but I did mention to him that I worked at a theme park, and he mentioned that he had already been planning on going to that theme park the next day. I told him he should come visit me at the booth I worked at, and we ended up hanging out in the park together when my shift ended. It very quickly felt like a date - instead of riding rides we just sat and talked until the park closed. It didn’t feel like either of us were pushing for it - it just felt so natural. But I wasn’t completely sure I was attracted to him at first. He had a strange way of walking and a strange way of talking and was kind of short and skinny for me. I wondered if he was gay. But my coworkers who met him kept assuring me that he seemed like he was crazy about me and that I should go after it. As we talked, it sounded like he was everything I had said I wanted on the list I had made - he had gone to seminary school so I knew God must’ve been important to him, was intelligent, had a good job, had creative hobbies, and liked movies and video games like I did. The only downside, it seemed, was that he lived in Austin, Texas. I was in Florida.

We hung out for the next few days, and I ended up driving him to the airport to fly home. Despite God having been talking to me about moving, starting a long distance relationship with him wasn’t even on my radar, but he mentioned he wanted to keep talking to me. I agreed. I figured that it seemed like God was opening a door to something, and I wanted to at least see where all this was going.

We spoke on the phone for hours after he got back to Texas, and by the end of the call he asked me if I would be his girlfriend. I had been single for so long and had literally been begging God for a boyfriend daily, so of course I said yes.

Suddenly, we were dating! I appreciated how consistent he was in reaching out to me and how carefully he listened and remembered the details of the things I shared. Sometimes the regularity of the way he reached out almost felt robotic, but I just figured he was a more structured, routine-oriented sort of person, whereas I was a flighty artsy sort.

In January, I flew out to Austin to visit him. I prayed the whole time if this was the direction God was pointing me, that if this was my next move, that God would make it overwhelmingly, abundantly clear.

A verse I felt like God had been bringing me to around that time in regards to moving was Exodus 3:17:

“ 17 And I have promised to bring you up out of your misery in Egypt into the land of the Canaanites, Hittites, Amorites, Perizzites, Hivites and Jebusites—a land flowing with milk and honey.’”

We had a phenomenal time together. He kissed me, he said he loved me, we prayed together, he even started talking about marriage. Austin was beautiful and quirky and growing and artsy - I loved it right away. I prayed about it all and I just felt such peace about stepping forward with everything.

Then one night, my boyfriend and I walked around downtown. As we crossed the street, I prayed silently, asking God again that if this was really where he wanted me to go that He would make it clear. When I looked up I saw the store we were in front of was a salon called “Milk + Honey”.

I just knew that this was my next step.

When I got back to Florida, he dropped the bomb on me that he wasn’t sure if he was attracted to me. He said I wasn’t really his type, and eventually it came out that I essentially was too fat for him. Granted, I was overweight at the time, but I just have never had that kind of thing come up in a dating relationship before. Even when I was on the heavier side of things men usually were still very attracted to me. And if they weren’t attracted to me they just wouldn’t approach me in the first place.

Obviously I was incredibly hurt, and I mostly couldn’t understand why he would even approach me to date me if he wasn’t physically attracted to me. We met in person. He knew what I looked like.

More than that, I’m realizing now that I was SO hurt and floored by this because I felt like I was the one who was settling. I couldn’t believe he didn’t see that I was the one who was out of his league. I was still doing the thing I had done in the past - finding someone who seemed a little bit “less than” me so they would be crazy to reject me, so I would know I wouldn’t be rejected. I couldn’t believe that he didn’t feel lucky to be with me. I also thought that the fact that he had never kissed a girl before me or had a serious girlfriend before was like a safety net for me - of course he would be grateful to be with me, and he would have no one to compare me to so of course I would seem great.

So really, this whole thing help expose my broken way of choosing a “safe” boyfriend that was actually more rooted in fear than love. My failsafe system to avoid rejection was completely maladaptive. A lot of the things I thought made my boyfriend feel safe to me should have actually been red flags.

We probably should have broken up then. But I felt like God was telling me to tell him everything I was feeling, to fight it out with him, but not to pull the plug.

I’m honestly not sure how it all got resolved, but we decided to keep dating.

He visited Florida in February and we had a lot of ups and downs. But we had fun together and again wanted to keep dating.

I went back to Florida and wrapped up a lot of the loose ends I still had dangling. I finished the graphic novel I had been working on, and I started putting together a design portfolio to hopefully find some kind of art job in Austin.

Then, the world exploded. There was that little global pandemic thing that you might have heard about. I had been planning on staying and working at the theme park through spring break, but the park closed in the middle of March and I was out of a job.

My lease was ending at the end of March, and I just realized I had almost nothing keeping me in Florida. I was hoping to have a job lined up in Austin before moving, but I figured I might as well move out there and look for a job and a place to live instead of staying in Florida and doing the same thing.

I said goodbye to the few friends I could, donated most of my stuff, and headed west. I was pretty scared. The morning of my move I prayed again, asking God is this was really, really what He wanted me to do. He brought me to Isaiah 55:12-13:

“ 2 “For you shall go out with joy, And be led out with peace; The mountains and the hills Shall break forth into singing before you, And all the trees of the field shall clap their hands. 13 Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress tree, And instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle tree; And it shall be to the Lord for a name, For an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.””

It seemed crazy but I just felt like God was saying He was in it. I just prayed that God would at least let the gas stations stay open and wouldn’t close any state borders while I was on the road.

I got to my Airbnb in Austin just as the city announced its stay in place order. My boyfriend came to see me but then told me to stay 6 feet away from him because he wasn’t feeling well.

It was already pretty obvious that this move wasn’t at all what I was thinking or hoping it might be.

To make a very long story shorter, things have been crazy but God has been so good to provide through all of it. My boyfriend was part of a small house church and a girl in his church was looking for a roommate, so I ended up moving into an apartment with her and another friend of hers.

I had no idea how hard it would be to find a job during the apocalypse, but my boyfriend’s manager decided to pull her kids out of daycare because of the virus, and needed a nanny. This woman is seriously probably the kindest, most generous person I’ve ever met and paid me incredibly well, which allowed me to actually buy some furniture and even decorate the apartment a little bit.

But, unfortunately I’m realizing I just don’t like working with kids in the way I think I should. I was pretty unhappy, the kids were unhappy, and when I was praying about it I really felt like God was showing me that just because something is a “good” thing to do doesn’t mean it is necessarily the thing God wants us to be doing. God designed us all with different gifts and abilities and I felt like He was kind of showing me that by me being in the wrong role for me I was keeping someone else out of the right role for them. Around this time I got accepted to be an Uber Eats driver, which I know doesn’t sound glamorous, but the thought of being free to make my own schedule and not have to worry about interacting with people just sounded so appealing. Finally I felt like God was saying it was okay to step down from the nannying job, and the mom sounded surprisingly grateful because she had been wanting to quit her job to stay home with her kids, but I guess hadn’t quite worked up the courage to do it.

Anyway, I was just grateful the whole situation benefited everyone so much.

Since then I feel like God has really been impressing on me to use my gifts and talents, although sometimes I realize I don’t even totally know what they all are. I know I need to be writing and creating though, so I need to make that more of a priority. I applied for a graphic design internship on the same day I put my notice in for the nannying job and was offered the internship the next day. I’m just feeling very grateful to be able to be taking a tiny step forward in a creative career again.

Through all this things with my boyfriend had been weird. It didn’t seem like he really wanted to see me, but it was hard to know whether it was because he was genuinely concerned about COVID or because something else was going on. I finally confronted him about it and told him that I just didn’t feel like he was attracted to me, and he finally admitted that he wasn’t.

Honestly, now that I’ve gotten to know him better, I think he might be on the autism spectrum. I might really not be his type, I don’t know, but I think he might just not enjoy being physically close with anyone. It’s sad. I think the hardest thing has been realizing the relationship I thought I was in and the person I thought I was dating never even really existed. He’s just not who I thought he was, but I kind of feel like I’m grieving a phantom.

But I guess if this relationship was God’s way of moving me somewhere He wanted me, and giving me companionship through a very lonely time, I’m still grateful for it. And I’m grateful for the people I’ve gotten to know because of him, and that because of him I have been able to be a part of this little church community. So that’s all good.

And I know God’s promise to me is still good. I guess I’m just wondering what on earth to do now. Should I start dating again? In a way it feels like SO MUCH has changed in just a few weeks I should maybe just hold back at get my bearings again. I know I need to keep writing.

I think maybe I need to take some time to really reflect before jumping in to yet another new thing. So... some fun subjects for next time:

-Why do I even want to be married so badly?

-Maybe my list of what I’m looking for kind of sucks. My ex was my list, or so I thought, and it was a mess. Maybe I need to come back to God and really find out what HE wants for me and what HIS will is. I feel like I keep getting caught up in the external things about people - what they look like, what they do for work, what kinds of movies they like, and I’m not at all careful about looking at their hearts. I need to start seeing people the way God sees people.

Okay, sorry that this entry kind of devolved but I’ve been writing forever and need to start doing some work today. But now you know the rest of the backstory.

More soon!

Love,

Eulalie

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