As lead rains, will pass on through our phantoms Forever, forever. Like scarecrows that fuel this flame we're burning Forever & ever. Know how much I want to show you you're the only one ― Like a bed of roses there's a dozen reasons in this gun. & as we're falling down & in this pool of blood, & as we're touching hands & as we're falling down, & in this pool of blood & as we're falling down, I'll see your eyes & in this pool of blood, I'll meet your eyes, I mean this forever.
five times my muse says they don’t love yours, and the one time they admit it.
┊✩ ❝ i. A WEEK INTO their relationship, Maxine discovers the multiple photo albums on Jack’s phones dedicated to memes. She shakes her head, full of regret. How could she allow such a nonsensical man into her life when she was nothing but cold, hard logic?
“I hate you!”
But she laughs, full of vibrancy, as his lips press to hers in desperate urgency. He says that she’s not allowed to leave, that she’s stuck with him and his memes forever. And she believes him.
ii. THEY’RE FIGHTING. IT’S stupid. It’s always stupid. Nothing they would remember the next day, even as they make it up to each other with longing caresses and adoring murmurs. But her fangs are filled with venom, always ready to strike.
“Eat shit, Jack. You’re such a worthless fucking idiot. I can’t stand you right now.”
As soon as his expression drops, she’s tainted with a foreign feeling: regret.
She apologizes to him later with a blowjob. She does not say sorry or ask for his forgiveness, because she doesn’t know how to.
iii. THEY’RE LYING IN each other’s arms when she suddenly remembers that she’s of feral origins. Not to be tamed, unwilling to call herself another’s. Despite the fact that Jack’s arms feel closer to home than anywhere else ― even more than her beloved New York City ― she pushes him away, flustered, in a panic. He doesn’t understand and she refuses to tell him why.
Her admission is wordless, but it’s there. Maxine Kim would die before allowing a man to conquer her. She would never allow herself to become weak like her mother.
iv. IT’S BEEN MONTHS now. Her once jagged edges have been blurred. She allows herself to become submissive in his hold. With knees held up to her chest, she buries her face in Jack’s neck, breathing out an ode to him and him alone. Now recognizing the fluttering in her heart as a four letter word she refused to speak aloud, he voices it first.
I love you, Max.
She looks up at him, wondering one thing: why? Why would he waste his adoration on her, the woman made up of icy thorns? Though she wishes to say it back, her pride locks it away.
“…I’m sorry, Jack.”
His silence tells her everything she needs to know.
v. THEY’VE BEEN BROKEN up for fourteen days now. 336 hours, 20,160 minutes, 1,209,600 seconds. Every moment is felt wearily on her heart. She’s lost, unsure what to do or where to go. So she lies in bed depressed, hoping that he’ll realize his mistakes. Jack says it was because of his mother, not because he doesn’t love her, but Maxine refuses to believe this. She had ruined it. Destroyed them. Because she couldn’t open herself up to him.
He texts, asking if he can come over. She allows it, yearning for his presence, his arms.
He’s drunk, slurred I miss yous carving into the base of her neck. This is not what she wants and she knows it’s wrong, but she allows it. The sex is heated, she quivers underneath him, as if it’s been months instead of a mere two weeks. They fall asleep, entangled in each other.
They wake up at the same time and for a moment, things go back to the way they were. Loving fingers comb through sweat-stained hair. Then she remembers. Anger laps at her insides. Heartbroken, she shoves him out of the bed.
“Get out, Jack. Get the fuck out.”
i. TURN BACK TIME. Rewind. To a simpler moment.
He’s leaning against the door frame, smiling that goofy grin of his, greasy Chinese takeout in his hands. They’ve just gotten back from an advanced screening of Star Wars: The Force Awakens and she’s riding on a wave of bliss. She looks upon him, a renewed burning adoration in her eyes. She has always cherished him from the moment those ginormous ears came into her life. But she needs to voice it and she needs to voice it now. Some things can only happen once you experience the death of Han Solo and cry together about it.
“Chanyeol ― I… I love you. I always have and I always will. I’m sorry for being… me. But thank you for putting up with it. I never want to be apart from you.”
Embarrassment flushes her cheeks, turning a bright red never shown before, and she closes her eyes, unable to take it. She hears a dull thud, then is tackled to a nearby couch. When she allows her eyes to open, she is greeted with a big dog of a man, nothing but smiles and love. The mere sight is enough to bring tears to her eyes, another rarity. Kisses are pressed to every available inch of skin, breathy bouts of laughter escaping her. With forehead leaned to hers, Jack begins to ruminate out loud.
“Babe. Baby. Honey. Sweetie. Maxiepoo. I love you so much. So fucking much. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I lo―”
Then she shuts him up with a kiss. “Come at me, bro,” she whispers huskily.
The food is forgotten. They spend the next few hours praising every part of each other.
five times my muse thought about kissing yours, and the one time they did.
┊✩ ❝ i. PLANE RIDES ARE always the worst. She supposes that she’s lucky in being able to afford the trip back home and time off from her new job. It’s strange having a salary, being an adult. The concept is one she’s unsure she’ll ever understand. Was a grownup allowed to watch every Star Wars film back to back, while contemplating Darth Vader’s importance to existence itself? This is how she manages to escape boredom’s clutches, by revisiting the cinema series, which had claimed her cold, dead heart from an early age.
Not even the man seated directly next to her could be of bother. She notices his handsome features, how gangly legs take up far too much space much like her own. But being tall and good looking had never been enough to impress her, unless she was feeling weak. Just in case he decides to speak to her, she turns away, conveniently angling her phone screen towards him.
She can feel his eyes boring into the back of her head. Or directly into her device rather. Muffled voice begins to filter through the soundtrack and she pulls an earbud out, ready to glare daggers at the male who dared to speak without her permission.
Instead of attempting to hit on her, he’s merely rambling endlessly. About Star Wars. She catches hints of various quotes and names, ones that only a true fan would bother remembering. He asks just how excited she is for episode vii.
“Let’s just say that I’ll making the Kessel Run for the theater in less than twelve parsecs.”
He smiles. She stares at his lips. Suddenly, he was better looking than before.
“So, what’s your name? Or should I just keep calling you beautiful? I’m Jack.”
“You can keep calling me beautiful for now,” she smirks, handing him the earbud which still hung out of her ear. He takes it, huddling in closer to the screen. There’s a rise in the temperature, she swears. They both quote the same parts and make the same jokes to each other. By the time the flight is three-quarters of the way through, they’ve shared every Star Wars pun they knew.
It’s difficult not to give in to him, especially when it’s obvious how enamored he is by her. But by the time she decides to finally drag him by his collar into the bathroom, the plane reaches the ground.
“The name’s Max by the way. Nice to meet you, nerf-herder.”
ii. SHE WOULD NEVER admit it, but she’s thankful to see him on the same plane ride back to Seoul. And she’s even more thankful to find the seat next to him empty.They greet like old friends and it’s obvious in his expression how he’s relieved to see her again. Choosing to give him her phone number in a more intimate, albeit childish, way, she cradles his hand in hers. Pen glides across the expanse of his palm, leaving behind Max♡ and a series of digits in its wake.
“Call me sometime, yeah?”
Images of his lips pressed against hers fill her thoughts for the remainder of the trip.
iii. THEY BEGIN TEXTING each other immediately. She sends him updates on The Force Awakens and he sends her memes, along with pictures of the dogs he meets. It’s the most endearing thing a man has ever done, but she never voices this. Occasionally, he spams her with heart emojis and she can only smile in return. He’s far too glaringly obvious for his own good. She can imagine how he’s deep in thought, as she replies with a single kiss emoji. What does this mean? Men were too easy.
But she falls into her own trap, once she’s sent a picture of Jack posing with a large dog.
The urge to peck at her own phone screen is overwhelming. She saves the photo instead.
This was getting bad. Very bad.
iv. IT’S NOT LIKE her to hang out with men outside of the bedroom. Nothing had happened with Jack, aside from bouts of stray flirtation, yet she found herself in his place on his couch. He’s invited her over for a Star Wars marathon, and she can’t find it within herself to say no. There’s no slyness at all with the way he yawns, stretches, then wraps his arm around her shoulders. But she allows it, either out of a laziness to fight or because she actually wants to be near him. Such a ridiculous notion. She has never been one to care about a man (aside from Harrison Ford) and nothing would change that.
His laugh is loud and obnoxious. She can’t stand the way his face scrunches up or how all his teeth show. And she especially can’t stand the way he looks at her, as if she is a precious thing that deserves to be protected. This does not sway the lingering urge building up within her ― to push her fingers into his mop-like hair, straddle his lap and kiss him until the sun comes up ―but she does not, will not give in. She is stronger than this.
v. IT QUICKLY BECOMES evident that she is not stronger than this.The way he pulls her head into his chest every time they greet even if it’s only been hours, since they last saw one another. The way he’s able to hover over her, unless she’s wearing heels and even then, he doesn’t complain. For weeks, she’s been struggling to place a name to these unnamed, unwanted feelings. Now she knows exactly what it is: a crush. Years had passed, since a person had crawled into her heart. And she was able to deflect that person easily. Jack had managed to not only crawl inside, but build a home there. She wants to vomit every time she thinks of how she wishes to be in his embrace when he’s not near. She wants to vomit every time her heart flutters thinking about him. She wants to vomit every time she realizes just how much she likes him.
It’s obvious that he wants her too, from the longing gazes to the terrible attempts at flirting to the not so secretive attempts at holding her hand. Sometimes she finds herself giving in, fingers intertwined while The Empire Strikes Back plays. And she can’t even pay attention to what’s going on, only to him. This is so sad and pathetic, being as Empire is by far her favorite in the series.
What will happen when he finally decides to make a move and she has to reject him? Jack is her friend, someone Maxine does not want to lose. But she would rather detach herself from him than fall into his clutches.
None of this stops her from wanting to kiss him all the goddamn time.
i. SHE HAS NEVER broken the promises made to herself. Until now.
He’s so stupid with how he tries to impress her with cheesy jokes. It’s enough to make Maxine want to strangle him either with her actual hands or with adoration. Once an angry thought crosses her mind, another affectionate one takes its place. He’s so cute in how he keeps a respectful distance. He’s never made a move on her, unless she gives the signal that it’s okay. Most of the time, he just envelops her in his all encompassing warmth and she dies the sweetest death every time.
His laugh is like a melody, one she wants to keep for herself. His nose so wide and round, perfect for prodding (or kissing). His eyes wide and expressive, unlike any she’s ever seen before. His legs are so long and shaped like a perfect bow. When she voices this opinion, Jack smiles shyly, blurting out an aw, shucks, which makes him even cuter somehow, dammit.
They lie together on the couch, him on top of her and their legs entangled together, like they belong that way. They’re merely cuddling and gazing adoringly at each other. She wraps her arms around his neck, bringing him even closer. She feels like her heart might burst out of her chest from the way it’s beating so furiously. She wonders if he can hear it. The desperation is written across all his features and she wonders if he can see it on hers too.
But instead, he offers a witticism. Typical Jack. “Hey. I hear you like bad guys. Well, I’m bad at everything.”
With a single bad joke and a loud laughter sounding from her own throat (one she’s never heard in her life), she is broken. With hands cradling the sides of his face, she leans in, finally connecting their lips together in the kiss she’s always wanted. It lasts for only a few moments, but it seems like it lasts for ages and god, it feels so utterly, completely right. She pulls away, pink smudging her cheekbones. He looks shocked, as if he can’t believe what had just happened.
“C-can we do that again?” he asks dumbly.
She answers him with another kiss. Then another fifty more to make up for all the kisses that she’s wrongly kept from herself. She doesn’t allow him to leave her embrace, preferring to keep him and his lips all to herself.
five times our muses almost hold hands, and the one time they do.
┊✩ ❝ i. HE’S SUCH A good looking guy. Obnoxious and enthusiastic to the point where she questions his sincerity (she eventually learns that Jack is nothing if not sincere), but one of the most attractive she’s ever laid eyes on. She’s drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Used to flirting with disaster, Maxine always knows when to pull away. Until the one time she doesn’t and ends up falling head over heels for him. It’s obvious how he wants to touch her, yearning for his hands on her frame. And occasionally, she indulges him, pressing herself flushed against him, whispering promises against the base of his neck.
But when he reaches out for her hands, hopeful smile in place, she takes a step back. For someone able to share her body with another’s so easily, it’s these small affections that frighten her. Sex was always meaningless. Intimacy meant something else altogether.
Jack and Max. Friends to the end. So when he places his palm atop hers, she yanks it away. Her expression is akin to a deer in headlights, shock evident in each jagged feature. No one’s ever tried to hold the hand of the heartless girl before. When he stares at her, wondering what he’d done wrong, she simply brushes it off with a laugh. “God, Jack. Don’t be gay.”
ii. SOMEHOW, HE’S TALKED her into watching a horror movie. With her rough exterior, most assume that Maxine can sit through hours of jump scares and gore without batting an eye. Except it’s the complete opposite. She can’t stand these movies, because they crawl under her skin and stay lodged there, forcing her to stay up all night when precious sleep is such a rarity already. But as long as they not watching It (because clowns are the true living incarnation of the devil himself), she figures she can live, since there’s no way she’ll admit to actually being afraid.
Fear crawls up the length of her spine with each passing second, the tension-filled soundtrack making her feel physically ill. But she’s a brave girl, she tells herself, willing her eyes to remain open. She’s thankful that they’re covered in a blanket of darkness (even if it only ends up making her more scared). Jack’s form is nothing if not protective with the way his arm is draped around her shoulder, holding her close to him. Such a typical male move to use the power of fear to get the affection they desire. She hates him right now.
“I’m here, if you get scared.” Cue a cheesy wink.
“I don’t get scared, shut up.”
He begins toying with her fingers, pinching the skin of each one. And she almost gives in to him, except the killer finally reveals himself and a small shriek not from the film fills the room. Immediately, she leaps into his lap, burying her face in his shoulder.
“I’m not saying I’m not completely happy with this outcome, because believe me, I am. But I thought you didn’t get scared?” She can practically hear the smirk in his voice and she wants to slap it off.
“Do you want to die? Are you looking to star in your own horror movie right now?”
He behaves himself for the rest of the night.
iii. THERE’S TURBULENCE ON the plane. Jack instinctively wraps his hand around her wrist, sliding it ever so closely to intertwine their fingers. Maxine instinctively shakes him off, embarrassment coating her expression.
His feelings are hurt. She’s unsure if he’s being dramatic or completely genuine in how he pouts about her being unwilling to hold his hand even in a life or death situation. She snaps at him, saying they wouldn’t have died and even if they did, would holding his hand make it any better? He says yes. She remains quiet.
iv. THEY’RE OUT TO dinner together, in typical date fashion, though the word itself is never used. Because of her. She begins to wonder if he’ll ever give up, as he reaches out across the table, running the pads of his fingers across her hand. Closing herself off, she states clearly, making sure he’ll hear. “Will you cut it out?” They were friends. Friends didn’t hold hands. Even if that term didn’t actually fit them, it was the one she felt most comfortable with. Especially when her heart trilled a song for Jack every time she thought of him. Devotion was not wired in her system and she wasn’t about to learn the concept now.
He pulls away, looking like a kicked dog. He doesn’t try to hold her hand again after this.
v. A FEW WEEKS later and she regrets not allowing him to hold her hand. Because now that she wants to, she’s too chicken shit to do anything about it. He’s lying in behind her on the couch, his arms clutching her body to his (perhaps a bit too tightly, but she invites she feeling). Her heart is hammering from the closeness. She doesn’t understand why Jack keeps coming back, no matter how many times she pushes him away. But she’s grateful for it, showing it by slowly beginning to allow him in. He mutters terrible jokes against the shell of her ear and she grins at each one, no matter how unfunny they are. Her hand moves to wrap around his wrist, still too afraid to actually hold his hand. Deep down inside, she knows he wouldn’t reject her, but the fear still resides.
“Jack. You’re so cute. I hope you know that.”
He’s stunned into silence for once.
i. DURING THE RARE times that they hate themselves, the pair watch the first three episodes of Star Wars. Maxine claims to hate the films, yet still finds herself in tears over Anakin Skywalker’s transformation from a small boy full of hope to the infamous Darth Vader. She used to be able to watch these dark specks on her favorite film series in peace, but now she has to deal with Jack’s terrible Jar Jar Binks impressions.
“That’s why you no liking us meesa thinks.”
“Stop. Oh my god.” But she’s laughing and smiling at Jack, like he’s the sun brightening her entire day (and he is), which eggs him on further.
“How wude!”
Unable to take how much she adores him in this exact moment, she leans her head on his shoulder. A quivering hand places itself in his, intertwining their fingers together. The sensation is odd, but she quickly warms up to it, squeezing his hand with earnest. A soft sigh leaves him, whether from relief or a sense of victory ― perhaps both ―she is unsure.
“Maxine―” he purrs, burying his nose in her hair.
She stops him before he goes any further, afraid of what he might say. Afraid of what might become of them. “Don’t call me that, asshole!”
They hold hands for the rest of the evening, not even separating to get up for drink refills. Jack simply tugs her along into the kitchen, her laughing all the while.
five times my muse has thought about yours, and the one time they do something about it.
┊✩ ❝ i. EVEN IN DATING, Maxine is distant. Sometimes, she purposefully ignores his texts, his calls or acts weirdly aggressive towards him for no good reason. Because while she wants to indulge, wrap herself up in him all day, all night, she cannot bring herself to. She knows what getting attached means. Though Jack has already won the battle, she would not allow him to win the war.
When he asks if he’s done something wrong, she merely retorts with the fact that she’s never had a boyfriend before and is unsure how to act. This seems to sate him for a while.
This does not stop him from invading her thoughts constantly. She wakes up, rolling over to pull him close to her, only to find that he’s not there. During these times, she wants to reach over and call, so that she might be able to listen to his sleep drenched voice.
But she refuses.
ii. ON THE DAILY commute to work, she flips through the radio stations, while the unforgiving traffic keeps her from moving forward. She doesn’t settle, until the familiar sounds of the cheesiest song invade her ears. It’s a song she could never stand listening to (because idealizations of romantic love was ridiculous to her even as a child), one her mother blared throughout their apartment constantly. But now, she finds herself singing along, while one person comes to mind. She sickens herself.
At the next red light, she thinks of picking up her phone. She thinks of texting Jack and asking how he is. The hopes that he was having a good day seems more important than making it to work on time.
Her phone remains still. The melody remains stuck in her head all day and her boyfriend plagues her thoughts for even longer.
iii. MAXINE HAS ALWAYS preferred the company of devices to men. If she was so desperate for physical intimacy, she’d merely call for the presence of a beautiful woman. Males were a last ditch effort and hardly ever satisfied.
She considers porn a causality of the job (obviously, she has to stay up to date on the latest dirty trends), though in actuality, she enjoys watching it. While it’s tough to find something that indulges her feminine senses, since most erotic videos were created for the male gaze, she still appreciates the sexual imagery.
Such media hardly ever affects her sex drive, considering it to be normal material, rather than something meant to turn her on. But the angles are perfectly concealed, faces hidden by shadows and only lower bodies moving in frame. Just like that, she thinks of Jack filling her and heat is suddenly pouring into her crotch.
Moments later, she’s rolling her naked hips upwards, vibrator working its magic through her body.
Jack is a mere phone call away. She could call him, ask him to come over and help her out. Or she could tease him with her moans and open desire for him to be inside her, until they’re both touching themselves.
The mere thought is enough to elicit a groan, teeth gnawing down on bottom lip in an attempt to keep herself quiet. She’s alone, but giving in to thoughts of Jack feels like a sin even within contained quarters.
Deciding against her own brilliant idea, out of stubbornness, she’s forced to finish alone. She reaches her climax much faster than usual, hissed whispers of Jack’s name leaping off her tongue. With eyes closed, she allows the tremors of pleasure to wash over her spent, sweaty body.
She’s never came so hard in her life. Yet something tells her that it’d be even better, if it was him there, instead of her beloved toys.
iv. SHE GOOGLES HOW to stop thinking about your boyfriend in a desperate attempt, hoping for some semblance of calm. Usually, her own advice yielded more results than the internet’s, but for the first time in years, she feels utterly lost. She wants to eat her cake and have it too. Settling had never been an option. She would not lose to Jack, no matter how her heart ached for him. She would date him and not fall for him, she would be the victor if it was the last thing she’d do.
Unfortunately, Google tells her what her heart already faintly knows. That she’s in love. A disgusting word and concept. How could this happen to her? How could she live her entire life independent and free from all those who wanted her only to end up under the thumb of a man? A man with a stupid smile and stupid ears and stupid legs and stupid warmth that she admired oh so much.
Call him.
Instead, she turns off her phone off for the night, frustration coursing through her entire system.
v. SHE MISSES HIM. His presence, his scent, everything he encompasses. She can’t bring herself to tell anyone that they’ve broken up (because it feels like she’s lost the game and Maxine Kim never loses), so they continue to prod her for details on him. The only reply she gives is bitter silence. Even after everything, after he’s shattered her heart into a thousand pieces, she still thinks fondly of him. She never allows herself to show it during their ever-growing visitations, which is shown on his dead, jealous features. But he had broken her, so she must break him in return. An eye for an eye.
None of this stops her from constantly thinking about him or wishing he was there with her. She wants to fix it, make it up to him somehow. Though truly, she knows she can’t. Love had never been her expertise and when she fell into the deepest vat of it, she hadn’t tried enough to keep the one she held dearest.
Looking at her phone, where he remains the lock screen, she bursts into tears once again.
i. HER HEART HURTS. It hurts so goddamn much. Not even the drunk escapades they dabbled in could curb her. She only longs for him more with each vodka stained kiss. His touch is no longer gentle, roughness and a desire only to meet its inevitable end replacing what she had once known. She’s wasted so many tears over him the past few weeks (129 days, since he left her), a headache is constantly looming nearby. But she takes whatever she can get, because anything is better than nothing.
Finally, when she can’t bear to take it anymore, she indulges herself.
Picking up her phone, she texts him, hoping that he’s actually sober for once.
「 ✉ ➤ han solo 」 ✖ baby.✖ i miss you.✖ please come over.✖ i want to hold you again so bad. like we used to.
He holds her close to his chest, like in the past when she allowed herself to be open. She shivers in his hold, angry at herself for being so weak, but euphoric to feel Jack beside her.
From then on, she lets him know every time she thinks of him. She texts him, asking how his day is, she sends him photos of dogs and Star Wars memes. She never hesitates in telling him just how much he means to her. Especially after they get back together. Her heart is soft for him and she realizes that it’s not a weakness, but a strength. A strength that only Jack can provide her.
five times my muse almost sends a nude, and the one time they do.
┊✩ ❝ i. SHE HAS ALWAYS been a shameless sort. Exchanging photos of bare frame had never been a big deal to her. She enjoys looking at herself, considers herself to be the highest form of art. Her mother had always warned her that a man would never love such a vain girl. And she’s proven wrong by how Maxine continues to embrace self-love and by the fact that a man loves her just as she is.
But as a logical woman, she is completely aware of the consequences in sharing topless photos with men (and occasionally other girls). She remembers being younger and realizing that her current boy toy had shared her personal pictures with all his friends. A comment about how small his dick was and how she faked it usually took care of that problem. Now she knows better. She knows never to angle the camera so that her face is showing, so that it won’t be traced back to her. Even if the photos end up in the wrong hands, no one will know it’s her.
Looking good was a constant for her, but today she really looked good. She inspects herself in the mirror, thinking Jack would appreciate the sight. They’ve only been dating for a few weeks though and the touching they’ve done has been of the purest form (kissing, hand holding, the occasional heavy grope session). She doesn’t want to frighten him nor does she want to gift him with something he doesn’t deserve. Deciding to settle for a simple selfie, because that is a present in itself, she sends it to him, anticipating his overly excited reply.
「 ✉ ➤ han solo 」 ✖ hey, handsome.✖ here’s something to brighten up your day.✖ [img attachment: selfie358362985.jpg]
ii. HONESTLY, SHE HAD always been afraid to date, because she thinks there’s no way someone like her could be committed. Monogamy seems like the most boring concept to the girl that wears her sex drive on her sleeve. Somehow Jack manages to keep her attention and thoughts are only devoted to him (she painstakingly admits to herself).
They’ve gotten further in their relationship, more physically than emotionally. Completely her fault. Because deep conversations and ideals of the future aren’t what she craves. She can’t stand listening to him croon on about how amazing she is. Of course she is. Everyone knows this. But his hand down her pants feels like bliss and she takes advantage every time Jack is near, even when he merely wishes to watch Return of the Jedi yet again. This is what she’s familiar with, this is what she likes.
He’s drunk and sending heavily typoed dirty texts. It makes her smile, knowing that even deep within the realms of inebriation, he thinks of her. For a moment, she considers taking her shirt off and sending a quick topless photo. But no. He’s not sober enough to appreciate it properly. So, she indulges him in another way.
「 ✉ ➤ han solo 」 ✖ you need to calm down. go splash your face with some holy water.✖ but hey, i forgot to send you this earlier. appreciate this world record level cuteness.✖ wish i was kissing you instead though. 😘✖ [img attachment: lookatthisdog.jpg]
iii. WHEN SHE MISSES him, she prompts him with a selfie in hopes that he’ll send one back. Though she hates to admit it, she has a photo album on her phone filled with the pictures Jack sends of himself. They get her through the day.
Tonight is slightly different. She is lonely and craves his warmth next to her. This isn’t merely a cry for his attention, it’s a cry for his presence. As she lies in bed, she wonders if sending him a nude would make him come running. If he was the complete heterosexual male she knew him to be, then yes, it would. But what if he was asleep (Maxine has never known normal sleeping hours, due to being plagued by insomnia most of her life)? If he left her on read accidentally, she’d surely be angry with him for a week. And that was no good.
So she settles for something else.
「 ✉ ➤ han solo 」 ✖ hey. i miss you.✖ my bed is sad and lonely without you.✖ (me too, i guess.)✖ you should come over whenever you see this.✖ [img attachment: noneroticbedselfiesry.jpg]
iv. SOMETIMES THE URGE to act out even affects her in public. What kind of woman thinks about sending her boyfriend dirty photos while out running errands? She simply blames him for it, because no man has the right to be that alluring. That’s her job, obviously. Unfortunately, when she gets an urge, she must indulge it in some way or another. She sees an ice cream truck stop nearby and takes it as a sign.
「 ✉ ➤ han solo 」 ✖ wish i was eating you instead 😉✖ [img attachment: blatantphallicreference.jpg]
v. SHE IS FRESH out of the shower and too lazy to get dressed. Or perhaps too appreciative of her body would be the more proper phrasing. The brilliant idea to tease Jack with her form attacked her mindset and wouldn’t go away, until she does something about it. She chooses not to go all the way, because while she trusts her boyfriend not to share such photos with his friends, that doesn’t mean she believes him to be deserving. Most men proved themselves not to be. And she didn’t want to deal with the realization that Jack wasn’t actually above the species.
「 ✉ ➤ han solo 」 ✖ bae, come over.✖ my parents aren’t home.✖ [img attachment: semieroticbedselfie.jpg]
i. AFTER THEY GET back together, Maxine makes a promise to herself that she’ll work as hard as possible to keep Jack with her at all times. She kisses him every chance she gets, she tells him she misses him when her heart feels too heavy to be alone, she doesn’t hesitate giving him all the little things which frightened her before. Everything is better than it was before. They love each other freely, with a renewed fire ignited between the both of them. Hours are spent within his arms and she loves every second of it. Loves every second with him.
They speak of the future and she doesn’t revert back to her thorny self. Jack brings up the idea of having kids someday and she doesn’t grimace, only demands that they name their firstborn son after Kylo Ren (the man she refers to as her other love, which he can’t stand). She loves, loves, loves him. Every thrum of her pulse is dedicated to him. And it’s wonderful.
The bad thing about their newfound dedication is that the loneliness becomes that much more intense when they’re away from each other. She yearns for him as soon as he’s out the door and is only thankful for how he immediately texts her, because he feels the same.
One night, she finally comes to the conclusion that Jack was ready for a nude. And not just any nude, but the ultimate nude. All her dirty photos were of the utmost level and that was without trying. But she plans on trying and blowing Jack’s mind, along with something else entirely.
After an hour of planning and setting up, she takes the perfect photo. Even she is amazed by how stunning she looks, which is a major feat, considering how self-obsessed she is. It’s barely evening and who knows what Jack could be up to. Honestly, she hopes he’s out in public and must suffer, until he finds a secluded place to open up her gift. She smiles to herself, as she sends it, feeling utterly proud and utterly in love.
「 ✉ ➤ nerf herder 💕 」 ✖ i love you.✖ i miss you.✖ i want you.✖ come over.✖ [img attachment: dontopenthisinpublicseriously.jpg]
