#‘I feel like I messed up as a parent because you’re not happy’ is NOT the thing to say to help me

[headkiss]

it’s christmas (this is gonna be a nightmare)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve puts a little too much pressure on himself to make this holiday a magical one. or: 4 times steve messes up your first christmas together, +1 time it's perfect.

word count: 7.4k

content: established relationship, one injury (no blood!), some kisses, a lot of steve's thoughts, and a love confession <3 fluff all around!!!

a/n: a full length fic!! it's a christmas miracle!! thank you to the anon who sent the ask that inspired this fic and to all of u for being here. i love u, happy holidays <3

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Steve Harrington doesn’t know too much about what exactly a perfect Christmas looks like. He has his parents to thank for that.

What he does know is that this year has to be just that: perfect. Because this year he has you.

Though you went to high school together, you and Steve properly met in the summer. Right at the beginning of it, where the evenings still have a chill of wind but the sun cuts through it with welcomed warmth. Robin convinced him to take her to the flower shop just outside of town, and you’d been behind the counter to greet them.

Robin recognized you, and she chatted your ear off while you helped her pick a bouquet with the sweetest smile Steve had ever seen and he felt like an absolute moron for never having noticed you before at school. But he noticed you then.

He’d forced Robin to wait for him in the car while he stayed back, bought you your own bouquet of flowers from the store as if you weren’t the one who’d made them, and asked you on a date. Steve fumbled the whole way through, pricking himself with a rose thorn and cussing mid-sentence, but you still said yes.

You’ve been together ever since, and Steve feels incredibly lucky for it. Lucky for how kind you are, how well you fit in with his friends, how much the kids (Max, especially, though he won’t call her out on it) like you. Lucky for being allowed to grab your hand, to kiss you whenever he wants.

And, on the nights you stay over that grow more frequent with each month, lucky to have you fill the space in the Harrington home that usually feels so cold and empty.

So, maybe the holidays make him extra sentimental, maybe he cares a little too much about making sure it’s the best damn Christmas you could have. Maybe, for once, he’s actually looking forward to it all.

Robin startles him into the present — leaning on the counter at Family Video — with a stiff poke to the cheek. “Dude, I can literally tell you’re thinking about her by the look on your face. It’s kinda gross.”

He scoffs at her, even though he probably was making a face. “Sounds like jealousy to me, Buckley.”

“Shut up, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even know each other! I deserve compensation.”

Steve hangs his head dramatically. Robin is never letting that go. Ever.

“My friendship isn’t enough for you?” Steve says, placing a hand over his heart, “You wound me.”

“You annoy me,” she says, flicking his arm.

“Ow- whatever. You’ll be free of me in like five minutes.”

Steve checks his watch just to be sure. Robin’s closing by herself today, and while Steve would normally just stay and bother her anyways, he’s got plans that involve you and takeout and napping together on his couch.

As if the thought conjures it, you walk through the door, the bell jingling cheerily above your head, Steve’s car keys dangling from your fingertips. (Yes, he lets you drive the BMW.)

“Thank God,” Robin says when she sees it’s you. “Please get rid of him, he’s getting on my nerves.”

You smile and walk towards Steve, who immediately tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you in close, stamping a kiss to the side of your head.

You turn your head to the side and look at him, “What did you do?”

Steve gasps, “Me? Honey, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

You send him a wink, and Steve grins. He fucking loves having you with him, being able to speak without speaking. Your hand grabbing his and squeezing says I missed you, his squeezing back says me too.

“Okay, please remove your public displays of affection from the store and leave me alone with the overplayed Christmas song radio station, thank you.” Robin announces.

“Don’t miss me too much, Robs. I know it’ll be tough,” Steve says, guiding you forward.

“Good to see you, Robin!” you wave on your way out.

“You too!” And just before the door closes behind you, Robin’s voice rings out; “You’re my favourite half of the relationship!”

Your smile widens. Steve is the best thing that’s happened to you, and his friends becoming yours is one of the greatest bonuses you could ask for. It’s like his life made room for you as simply as the ocean’s tide pulls in and out. Gentle and certain.

He catches the keys when you toss them to him, and Steve’s mood just seems to lift and lift on the drive back to his place with you in the passenger seat, Christmas lights lining the streets glowing on your cheeks.

Yeah, he thinks, this Christmas is going to be perfect.

-

1.

That weekend Steve calls you and tells you to be ready by noon and to dress warmly. He doesn’t tell you much else besides his usual ‘see you soon, honey’ or ‘miss you’ murmured sweetly through the phone.

As instructed, you’re dressed in a pair of jeans and one of your favourite knitted sweaters, your brown leather jacket overtop and socked feet stuffed into your Doc Martens. Though you feel plenty warm, Steve will probably fuss over you and hold you close for body heat anyways. And, well, you’d never be opposed to that.

Steve’s BMW rolls into your driveway exactly one minute past twelve, and by the time you walk outside to meet him, he’s already standing on the passenger side of the car waiting to open the door for you.

“Always a gentleman,” you say, kissing him quickly on the cheek.

You slide into the seat that’s become yours for the most part, and Steve ducks down to kiss you properly on the mouth before pulling back, “Mm maybe not always.”

He closes your door and you laugh lightly, your face a little warm even though he’s been your boyfriend for months now. You don’t think you’ll ever be unaffected by Steve Harrington’s charm, ever be used to it being aimed at you.

Of course, you knew of him in school, but knowing the real thing, the kind, caring boy who’d been buried under King Steve back then, is probably the greatest gift you’ve ever had.

Steve drives with one hand just above your knee, his thumb running back and forth over the stitching in your jeans. Still, he doesn’t tell you where he’s taking you, his only hint was to “pay attention to the radio station.”

It’s playing Christmas music. Like that narrows things down a whole bunch.

You chat the entire way. Steve asks you how the flower shop is doing (“Poinsettias are flying off the shelves”), you ask him who he got for the group’s secret Santa this year (“Max. I’m going to need your assistance”). It’s so easy to talk to him, to laugh and joke and not have to worry about what you say or how you come off.

You never knew being with someone could be so easy until Steve.

Eventually, he pulls into the long driveway of a farm. A Christmas tree farm, to be exact, if the wooden arch you drive through is to be trusted.

“What are you planning, Harrington?”

He shrugs, his hand squeezing your knee, “Thought we could pick out a tree together. Put it up at the house. My parents aren’t gonna be around — shocker, I know — I figured we’d do it together. Make it our own.”

Steve pats your leg before letting it go and putting the car in park, his palms dragging over his thighs like he’s suddenly nervous.

“Our first Christmas tree,” you say quietly, almost to yourself, a smile creeping onto your face. He really is sweet. “I love it. Let’s go adopt a tree, Stevie.”

He flashes you a smile before getting out and jogging around the hood to open your door for you. You’ve learned to wait for him to do it since you’ve been together. The last time you tried to open your own door he made you close it again just so he could be the one to open it.

Before, you’d never really cared about that sort of thing, but Steve has single-handedly raised your expectations.

He grabs your hand and leads you towards the classic red and white barn, following the signs painted simply with a tree and an arrow pointing you in that direction.

When you turn the corner and see the selection of trees, however, Steve pauses.

There are maybe seven trees left, none of which are very impressive upon first glance. Their branches are skinny and the pine needles leave a lot of space to see through them. It’s safe to say these aren’t the Christmas trees Steve was hoping to surprise you with.

He was sure there’d be something better left, at least. And he’d been wrong. Minus a point on that perfect Christmas, he supposes.

Still, he walks you to the selection, the farm’s employee greeting the two of you as you walk up; “Hey y’all. Good afternoon!”

“Hey man,” Steve starts, “you wouldn’t happen to have any more trees left, would you?”

“Sorry folks, this is all we’ve got. Most people like to get ‘em early.”

Steve’s hope dwindles, and you can see him deflate a little bit.

You, however, don’t mind one bit. You tug on his arm to get his attention, and Steve turns to look at you, brown eyes shining like honey in the sunlight. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “Even the little trees need homes, right?”

He shakes his head with a small smile. It’s cute, he thinks, the way you tend to talk about plants as if they have feelings. You do it when you tell him about the flowers you sell, too.

“Right as usual, honey,” he decides. “Pick your favorites.”

So, you wind up with two small Christmas trees rather than one full one, and there’s a small victory in it when you and Steve strap them both to the top of the BMW without too much of a struggle.

Another victory when you sing along to ‘Last Christmas’ and hold out your fist as if there’s a microphone in your grip to get him to join you. Admittedly, it isn’t a very good rendition, but Steve loves it all the same.

You have a way of turning things around for him, even without knowing it.

When you get back to Steve’s, he brings both of the trees inside and sets them up before bringing down the bins of ornaments and lights from the attic. He only shouted once when a spider crawled over his hand.

Having two trees makes it easy to turn decorating into a lighthearted competition. You both claim one as your own and decorate them with string lights and tinsel and ornaments. Steve’s mom would probably have an aneurysm seeing them used so haphazardly.

Though by the end, your tree is definitely prettier, Steve still feels like he’s won something as you lean your back against his chest and his arms cross over your own, keeping you there.

As a kid, he wasn’t even allowed to do the decorating. Mrs. Harrington had to make everything look picture perfect, and Steve’s hands didn’t help with that. Not according to her.

Today couldn’t feel more different from those memories of his childhood.

“Yours is better,” he tells you, chin perched on your shoulder, his voice low in your ear.

Objectively, it probably is better (your prior experience with arranging plants was an advantage), but you don’t actually care about that.

Today felt like a little glimpse into the future you and Steve could have. It’s easy to picture it: your own apartment, buying decorations you both actually like, setting it all up together every year.

“I think they’re both brilliant,” you say.

And while today wasn’t what he was picturing, wasn’t what he’d hoped for with his ideal holiday in mind, Steve finds that he can certainly live with that. Your adorable little clap when you’d finished decorating was enough to cement it.

It’s only one thing. He’s got plenty of chances to be perfect later, he guesses.

Steve dips his head and kisses the top of your shoulder over your sweater.

-

2.

You stay over at Steve’s that weekend. You’re both off work, and you find yourself spending your days (and nights) off with Steve more and more.

In the morning, you blink your eyes open slowly, naturally. No alarm set, your boy wrapped around you. It’s how you’ll spend every morning someday.

The sunlight sneaks through a crack in the curtains, cutting a line across Steve’s blue bedding. You squint at it, shifting onto your back gently. Steve’s arm remains slung over your waist as you move, his knee against your leg. You roll your head to the side to look at him, a smile creeping over your mouth at the way his cheek is smushed into the pillow, his lips pouting and hair a mess over his forehead.

Mornings have easily become your favorite time to spend with Steve. He’s cuddling you in some way every single time without fail, even when he wakes up. His voice is all low and gravelly from sleep and it feels like an honor to get to be the one to hear it like that. Usually, you spend an hour in bed with him after waking up. Laying together, talking, kissing. Sometimes (often) more.

You’d stay put right now if you didn’t have to pee so bad.

Slipping out of bed without Steve noticing proves a challenge, his arm tightens over you in his sleep, his brows scrunching. You whisper a soft “I’ll be right back.” He mumbles something incoherent, but his arm relaxes and you’re able to sneak away.

On your way back from the bathroom, you pause and take a peek out the window. You gasp happily at what you see: snow. A bright, white layer blanketing the ground sparkling in the sunlight.

You turn back to the bed and let yourself fall to it with a bounce, earning another grumbled protest from Steve, but there’s no way you’re going back to sleep now. You trail a hand up his arm to his shoulder, giving it a small shake, “Stevie, wake up.”

“Hm?” his eyes scrunch before opening. “What happened, honey?”

“It snowed!”

“Yeah?” he huffs a laugh at your excitement, his hand searching for yours in the sheets.

“Yeah, and it’s so pretty. We should go out before it melts.”

“It’s winter, sweetheart. Not gonna melt that fast.”

“Steve.”

“Okay, okay,” his hand leaves yours in favor of wrapping itself around you again, and he uses it to tug you close again. “Just five more minutes.”

His nose is pressed to the top of your head, and he breathes you in, smiling to himself. Mornings are Steve’s favorite, too. Only when they’re spent with you.

Secretly, he’s also happy about the snow. He was hoping mother nature would be on his side so that he could check yet another holiday item off his list with you. Hopefully one that will turn out nicer than the tiny trees you’d ended up with.

It’s definitely more than five minutes by the time you get Steve to get up and out of bed. You attempt to get him outside right away. He stops you with a: “No snow-related activities on an empty stomach!”

So, it’s a rushed breakfast of bagels and coffee provided by Steve, and then you’re gearing up and heading into the back yard.

The cold bites at your cheeks, and the tip of Steve’s nose is pink within minutes, but you love it.

There’s a snowman built together, snow angels made that get ruined when Steve rolls himself on top of you and steals a kiss or five. Naturally, all there is left to do is have a snowball fight.

You start it when you’re still on the ground, a hand sneaking into the snow to grab a handful and pressing it to the back of Steve’s head. He gasps, and you take the opportunity to push him to the side and get up.

“No fair!” he calls. “I was distracted and you went for the hair.”

“Your fault for not wearing a hat, babe,” you laugh.

“Oh, you won’t be laughing for long, honey. You’re in for it.”

And just like that, you’re running around like kids in a schoolyard, hiding behind trees, slugging snowballs at each other and cheering when you manage to not miss.

Steve silently thanks mother nature or the universe or whatever made it snow for the wide smile on your face, your eyes shining with mirth.

At one point, you’re suddenly distracted by something in the trees, and the snowball is out of Steve’s hand before he sees you start to look towards him again.

It hits you square in the face.

A quick “Ow” comes out of your mouth, though it really doesn’t hurt that bad. Your first reaction is just to let it slip, but Steve’s heart sinks to his stomach.

“Shit, honey.” He runs over to you and cups your face in his hands, his mittens soft against your skin as he brushes the snow from your face. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to get you in the face.”

Minus another point, for sure. Perfect Christmas: -2.

“I know, don’t worry,” you tell him, because he clearly is worrying.

“You okay?” he checks. He literally winces when you sniffle, frowns when he sees the way your eyes water. “Honey. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, Steve, I’m fine,” you reach up and grab his wrists, squeezing them over his jacket. “I’m only crying ‘cause it got my nose. It doesn’t actually hurt.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you assure him. “Didn’t you used to play sports in school? Thought athletes had better aim.”

“I was a swimmer, baby. No projectiles involved.” He smiles softly when you laugh, but he can’t stop himself from asking one more time. “You’re really not hurt?”

“It’s just a bit of snow, Stevie.”

His eyes run over your face anyway before he nods. Then, he dips forwards and lightly kisses your cheek, the other, the tip of your nose, and your mouth.

“Well now I’m certainly all better,” you say against his lips.

Steve pulls back but doesn’t go far. “I think this snowball fight is over.”

“Buzzkill,” you tease.

He bends down and picks up a handful of snow before shoving it in his own face.

“Steve!” you laugh.

“There, now we’re even,” he says, snowflakes clinging to his lashes.

You let him lead you inside after that, his arm draping over your shoulders, yours hugging his middle as you walk across the yard.

Once you’ve both shed your layers of coats and boots and hats and mittens, Steve takes you upstairs and runs you a bath to warm you up. He apologizes another two times when he looks at your face for too long, and you have to kiss him to stop him uttering another ‘sorry.’

Hell, if it’s gonna make him this sweet on you, you’d probably take a snowball to the face any day.

Eventually, when the bathtub is full, a layer of bubbles over the surface, you coax Steve into joining you. He leans against the side with you between his knees, back settling into its home against his chest, his chin resting atop your head.

Steve runs his hands over your shoulders, presses kisses into your hair. All along he’s reminding himself that the next thing will go right. He won’t be throwing anything, at least.

-

3.

The next weekend Steve calls you again. He asks you to be ready in the evening this time, but still keeps things vague other than the fact that you’ll be outside and need thick socks.

You have a pretty good idea of what he has in mind, but he’d called it a ‘redemption date’ over the phone and even though you truly don’t think he has anything to redeem himself for, you don’t want to spoil his plans, so you play along.

He comes to the front door when he picks you up this time, knocking gently as if you hadn’t been waiting for him by the windows.

“Hi, honey,” he drops a quick kiss to your lips, “had to come and approve your outfit. Don’t want you getting cold and stealing my jacket again.”

He’s lying, really. Steve fucking loves draping his own jacket over your shoulders and seeing you pull it tighter around you. When that happens, he braves the cold, but he figures that probably won’t be smart for spending hours outside.

“Aww, but yours is so much warmer than mine,” you pout jokingly.

Steve simply grabs your thickest jacket from a hook by the door and holds it out for you to slip your arms into.

As suspected, he drives you to a skating rink. He chose one a town over from Hawkins, where they have twinkle lights strung above the rink and rainbow Christmas lights lining the boards. Steve smiles when you gasp lightly in delight at the sight of it. The brightness cutting through the already dark night sky.

Steve guides you over to the skate rental booth first, bumping his hip into yours when you attempt to pay for the rentals. “As if. My idea, my wallet.”

“You don’t even let me pay when it’s my idea, either.”

“Well, that’s just chivalry, babe.”

You roll your eyes at him and thank the man behind the booth when he hands you both your skates. As you walk towards the lockers and cubbies set up nearby, you lean up and kiss Steve’s cheek, his light stubble scratching your lips.

“Thank you for this,” you say.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he tells you. “Though I should warn you that I’m not very good at this.”

“What? You, not good at something? Please.”

“No, seriously. I’m like bambi on ice.”

You laugh and shove his shoulder weakly, “Don’t worry. I’m probably even worse.”

Steve grins. So far, so good. This one will be perfect. Well, as perfect as it can be considering his skating skills.

You sit on one of the benches and Steve puts both of your shoes in one of the cubbies. He ties his own skates first before kneeling in front of you to help you with yours. He knows how to tie them, at the very least.

He helps you slip your feet into the skates first, then tightens the laces on one before peering up at you and checking, “Feel okay? Not too tight?”

“It’s good, Steve. I feel like Cinderella.”

“A perfect fit! She must be the one!”

“Dork.”

“That’s prince dork to you.”

Steve finishes up with your skates, squeezing your ankle before setting your foot down and standing back up.

On the ice, neither of you are very graceful. You hold onto the boards most of the time, and Steve stumbles and nearly falls every few strides, but you’re laughing and having fun, so who cares?

So what if you get lapped by multiple people on the rink, including children? So what if you get some side eyes for being too slow or in the way? Neither of you can bring yourselves to be bothered.

Best of all, Steve keeps a hold on your hand the entire time. He literally saves you from falling with his grip on your hand squeezing and pulling you up straight.

However, your hands being clasped also means that, inevitably, when one of you goes down, you both do.

It happens after a decent amount of laps; your toe pick catches on a dip in the ice and it’s all it takes for you to lose your balance. Steve somehow twists himself to catch the brunt of your fall.

He expected that to come with some pain, a couple bruises, maybe. Instead, his wrist twists painfully against the ice as he falls, as if he’d tried to catch himself with it, and he can’t help the hiss of pain that comes out when he lands.

“You okay, honey?” he asks you.

“Of course I am. I landed on you, Stevie. Are you okay?”

He tests his wrist out by flexing it, wiggling his fingers, and he tries to hide it but he winces when he does, a sharp pain shooting up his arm. “M’fine.”

“Bullshit, I saw that wince, Harrington.” You manage to get back up on your feet and hold out a hand for him to grab, “Up, I’m taking you to the ER.”

“No, no. I’m good.”

“Steve.”

“Baby.”

“Come on, you don’t want to make it worse, do you?” you urge him. “Plus, I’ll only keep worrying and bugging you about it until you let me take you to the doctor. Your wrist is already swelling, babe.”

Mostly because he doesn’t like the thought of you worrying about him, Steve agrees.

When both of your skates are off (your doing, this time) and given back to the booth, you reach into Steve’s coat pocket and grab the keys to the BMW. He doesn’t protest, and that alone tells you he must be hurting more than he’s letting on. You even manage to open your own door for once.

Steve’s quiet on the drive to the hospital, his hand resting limply on his leg. His brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezing shut every so often when a burst of pain comes. You do your best to avoid any pot holes or bumps along the way.

Once there, you make him sit in one of the waiting room chairs, “I’ll get the check in forms and everything. Stay put, yeah?”

“Your wish is my command,” he says, trying to joke. His voice wobbles a tiny bit, though.

It’s at least an hour of waiting before someone can see him (and that’s including your many pesterings to the front desk). You don’t mean to be a bother, but you’ve never seen Steve injured in any serious capacity, and it’s messing with your head.

He took the weight of that fall to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt. The way he pays attention to things like that is one of the many reasons you love him.

You love him. You haven’t said the words to each other yet, but you’ve felt them for a long time already. It’s hard not to love Steve Harrington.

Finally, the doctor takes him back, and you follow. After an x-ray and some prodding, he determines that it’s a sprained wrist and that he should keep it wrapped for a few weeks to make sure it heals. They give him a prescription for some mild painkillers, too, for the first couple of days.

You breathe a sigh of relief knowing it isn’t broken, but Steve’s shoulders are still slumped.

He’s in pain, sure, his wrist now wrapped up in a tensor bandage, but really he feels defeated at messing yet another thing up. Third strike.

Steve lets you guide him back to the car and drive back to his place. You’ve decided you’re staying the night to take care of him, and as much as he hates looking weak or feeling useless, he’s glad to have you around.

You dote on him back at home, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer after making sure he’s settled on the couch, throwing a frozen pizza in the oven, bringing him meds and water.

“Honey, it’s just a sprain. Please stop fussing and sit with me.”

His brown eyes shine a little, and you could never say no to him when he looks at you like that.

You sit beside him and he drops his head to your shoulder, your hand coming up to play with the strands at the nape of his neck, scratching his scalp gently. His uninjured hand rests on your thigh and squeezes.

“Best painkiller ever,” he says.

-

4.

Steve has convinced himself that nothing could possibly go wrong this time around.

His plans for today involve staying at home, just you and him, no outside forces to deal with or avoid. So much less potential for failure. That’s what he thinks, at least.

Steve knows nearly every piece of you, so, obviously he knows you like to bake. You’d made him a cake for his birthday, and every so often you bring him other treats from home. Naturally, that meant that there was no way he was leaving out Christmas baking.

He’d considered doing gingerbread houses, and then remembered that the last time he tried that in a competition with the kids, his house was nothing more than a messy pile of gingerbread slabs. One with a bite taken out of it.

So, considering his past failures this holiday season, he’d settled on something that he thinks — hopes — is really hard to mess up: sugar cookies.

His mother’s collection of cookbooks had never been used for more than decoration until now. Steve searched through them until he found a recipe, wrote down the ingredients, and bought them at the grocery store to make sure he had everything.

In school, he never did much studying, but he reread the hell out of that recipe in order to get at least this one thing right.

The tensor bandage is still wrapped around his wrist, which is fucking annoying, really. He has to adjust it every day, and it’s hard to do with a single hand. He much prefers when you do it for him, sealing it with a featherlight kiss.

Worse, the thing still hurts, and you refused to let him drive and put more strain on it than necessary, so you took the bus and walked the rest of the way to his house.

He’s got all of the ingredients and tools laid out on the island when you ring the doorbell. “Hurry up, Harrington, it’s freezing!”

Hurry he does. He lets you in and helps you unwrap yourself from your bundle of a scarf and hat and mittens and jacket. Steve dips in to kiss your cheek, your skin cold against his lips. “Wouldn’t have to freeze if you let me come get you.”

“I don’t want you hurting yourself for no reason, I’m fine,” you grab his uninjured hand and kiss the pads of his fingers, “and I like these hands.”

He smiles at your words, smug, “Yeah, I know you do, honey.”

You shake your head at him, but you’re smiling all the same, “I take it back. Your ego is getting too big.”

“Nooo, it’s just the right size,” he winks.

“Don’t you have plans, Steve?” you ask, changing the subject. “Getting a little off track, aren’t we?”

“Later, then,” he says, taking your hand with his good one and leading you to the kitchen.

You pause at the entryway of the kitchen, scanning over the things on the island, two aprons Steve must’ve dug up from somewhere hanging from the knobs of the cabinets.

“Tada,” he says, “we’re making cookies.”

“This might be my favourite one yet, Stevie.” You walk over and grab one of the aprons, leaving the other (a pink floral number) for Steve. “I’m in charge, though.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, taking the other apron without a complaint. “This is your kitchen today, chef.”

“Mm. That has a nice ring to it.”

“Chef honey,” he says, planting a kiss where your neck meets your shoulder, breath warm even through your shirt.

You get started after that. Predictably, you make a mess with flour on the island and mixing bowls strewn about the surface. You get distracted with a bit of a flour war somewhere in there, Steve smudging it onto your cheek, you onto the tip of his nose.

When it’s time to roll out the dough and cut out the cookies, Steve grabs a handful of cookie cutters from one of the drawers, setting them onto the counter with a small clang. They’re all holiday themed. Candy canes and snowmen and Christmas trees.

“Someone’s prepared,” you say, bumping your hip against his.

“I run a serious establishment here, baby.”

“I thought I was in charge.”

Soon enough, after sneaking bites of raw cookie dough and cutting out as many cookies as you could manage, they’re placed into the oven, the timer set.

You end up in the living room, a random channel playing on the TV while the cookies bake. It starts innocently enough, just sitting next to each other, shoulders and thighs pressed together.

Then, Steve’s good hand wanders, starting above your knee and moving up and up until he’s squeezing the top of your thigh, tracing patterns with his thumb. When he speaks a husky, “Come closer?” how could you ever say no?

So, somehow, you’ve ended up straddling Steve’s lap, his injured hand resting loosely on your waist, the other pressed in between your shoulder blades to keep you close. Yours are in his hair, running through the strands, tugging even.

It grows heated fast, and all of a sudden you’re making out like a pair of teenagers, Steve urging you to press further down in his lap, to writhe there while his mouth works yours until it’s all you can think about. All you can feel.

The room feels warmer, Steve’s jeans tighter over his lap, your chest bumping against his, hearts racing. Even just kissing him feels better than anything you’ve ever had in the past.

He kisses you like he’s starved everytime, sometimes a ravenous hunger, like now, or, when he’s gentler, something tender and soft. A sweet tooth.

The cookies are long forgotten. The timer sounds and nobody hears it. You would keep going forever, if you could. But then there’s the smell that hits your nostrils. The smell of something burning.

“Steve?” you say against his mouth.

“Uh-huh?” he breathes.

“Do you smell that?”

He pulls back, and it’s immediately after you say the words that the alarm goes off, piercing through the air, killing the mood, much to your dismay. Even more to Steve’s.

“Fuck,” he groans.

You’re both rushing to the kitchen then. You, fumbling off his lap, him beating you to the kitchen and frantically taking the baking sheet out of the oven and turning the thing off. You grab a towel from the counter and start fanning beneath the alarm to get it to go off, and when the cookies are dealt with, Steve joins the efforts.

Eventually the thing stops beeping, and you both rest your arms. The room still looks a little cloudy, the cookies black at the edges.

Steve doesn’t say anything, only rests his elbows on the island and slumps his head, defeated.

He’s so frustrated with himself. Not for kissing you. No, he could never be mad at that, but at the outcome of his final attempt at a holiday date going south again.

You frown at him, walking over and placing a hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles. “Steve? You okay?”

“I just- I messed it up again.”

“Hey, I’m as much to blame as you are. It takes two to tango, as they say.”

He huffs a weak laugh, picking his head up and twisting to look at you. Your pretty face, eyes nothing but kind. Fuck, he loves you, and he just wanted to show you that. To make Christmas as magical as it's supposed to be.

“I really wanted it to go well, you know?”

You realize then that he’s not only talking about today. That he’s been putting this pressure on himself all month to make plans and something has happened every time. You don’t blame him for that, if anything, it makes your heart ache with adoration.

“Steve, it doesn’t matter to me. Things happen, it’s okay,” you kiss his bicep lightly. “I’d rather things go a bit wrong with you than to have them go right with someone else. You are the best part.”

“I-” love you, he almost says. But he doesn’t want the first time to be like this, in a room that still stinks. “You’re the best part for me too, honey.”

You decide that next time, it’s your turn to do something for him.

-

+1

Steve comes home from work on Christmas Eve, eyes tired and feet hurting despite having worn relatively comfortable shoes today.

He’d tried to get the day off, tried to be able to spend it with you in bed for hours and hours and not getting up until the afternoon. Keith had other plans for him.

He even tried to dramatize his wrist injury. Still, he was forced to go in.

Walking up the driveway, Steve sees the glow of lights inside filtering through the curtains. He’s fairly certain he hadn’t left any on, but he also knows he’s often wrong about these things, so he shrugs it off and goes inside.

There’s noise coming from the living room. Crackling of the fireplace that he barely ever uses, music playing quietly, and then he hears you humming along.

“Honey?”

“Yup, it’s me!”

You know where the spare key is, Steve’s the one who told you the information and encouraged you to use it, but you’ve often been too nervous to do so. Not today, it seems.

While Steve was at work, you’d set up your plan for him.

He follows the sound of your voice without much of a thought, a moth drawn to a flame. When he turns into the living room, he stills.

There are strings of warm white Christmas lights hung about, the fireplace is actually housing a fire, and in front of it is a fort made up of red and green and white blankets and pillows. Some plaid, some with snowflakes, all Christmas themed.

“Did you do all of this?” he asks, walking slowly to where you stand by the fort.

“Figured it was my turn to organize a date, don’t you think?”

“Baby. This is all really sweet, but wha-”

You cut him off, “Uh-uh. Let me explain.” You reach for Steve’s hands, and he meets you in the middle willingly. Suddenly nervous, you shift your weight on your feet. “I thought we could do presents a little early.”

His brows scrunch, “But Christmas is tomorrow.”

“Please?” you ask, squeezing his hands once.

And, really, Steve would never say no to you. Especially not when you’re saying ‘please’ all sweet and delicate like that.

“Okay,” he says. “Yours is in my room. I’ll go grab it. And change; I smell like Family Video.”

“‘Kay, Stevie.”

You kiss his cheek before he goes for good measure.

Steve is confused the entire time, wondering what it could be that you’re up to, but he does as he said he would. You’d been wearing a set of pyjamas (one he loves on you; a soft baby blue pair of shorts with a matching sweater), so he goes for one of his pairs of plaid pants and a plain t shirt before grabbing your messily wrapped gift bag from where he’d hidden it under his bed.

Back in the living room, he finds you now settled on the ground of the fort, which you’d lined with fuzzy blankets and the biggest of the pillows. His gift is sat beside you, a gift box wrapped in a lovely bow. Your skills of wrapping bouquets are transferable, he’s learned.

He joins you, sitting across from you, but close enough that your legs tangle and knees bump.

“You go first,” you tell him.

“Okay,” he scratches the back of his neck, handing you the gift bag. “Let me explain it before you say anything.”

That grabs your attention, but your plans aren’t about his present to you, really, and you know you’ll love it no matter what because Steve knows you better than anyone.

You lift out tissue paper first, uncovering multiple different things inside the bag, also wrapped. It pieces together as you go. A toothbrush, toothpaste, a hairbrush, your entire skincare routine, a couple of pyjama and underwear sets.

“It’s so you don’t have to bring an overnight bag every time you stay over now. I, um, cleared out a couple of drawers in my dresser and the bathroom.”

“Steve,” you look at him, heart squeezing. It’s so thoughtful, so him, and you surge forward you wrap your arms around his neck and breathe into his skin, “I love it. Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Perfect.

“You really think so?”

“Of course I do,” you sit back into your spot. “You know I hate carrying things.”

“I never let you carry anything, honey.”

“Exactly,” you nod. Now, you hold out his gift for him to take, “Your turn.”

You watch Steve’s hands as he tugs the bow undone, then lifts the lid of the box.

Nestled inside are four delicate ornaments. A Christmas tree, a snowman, an ice skate, and a plate of cookies. One for every date he’d planned for you.

Steve frowns at them, not because he doesn’t like them, but because he doesn’t quite understand where you’re going with this.

“I thought it was time we started collecting our own ornaments. For our place, one day,” you tell him.

“They’re lovely, but honey you- you really wanna remember these things?“ he shakes his head, more at himself than you. “I messed ‘em all up.”

“There’s one more thing in there,” you say quietly.

The thing you're nervous about. A thing you’ve never said out loud before.

Steve finds it beneath one of the ornaments, a small piece of paper folded up. When he opens that, his heart stutters in his chest. Written in your handwriting are three words: I love you.

He blinks away from the paper to look at you, though his thumb continues to trace the words absentmindedly. “Honey-”

“I love you, Steve. Okay?” You shift closer, kneeling at his side, your hands coming up to frame his jaw, your fingers kind against his skin. “I don’t care that things didn’t go how you planned. I mean, I would rather you didn’t require an ER visit, but the point is that I don’t need things to be perfect. And I know you’ve been hard on yourself trying to make them so.”

He lets go of the paper and reaches up to grasp your wrists, his thumb finding your racing pulse. His uninjured hand holds on tighter than the other.

“Thank you for trying for me,” you continue, “for caring. But no matter what happens, things are perfect for me. Because I get to do them with you. Got that, Harrington? You’re perfect, and I love you, and-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. It’s a simple but firm press of his lips against yours, but it says enough.

“I fucking love you too, honey,” he says, his forehead against yours, lips only a breath apart. “You saying all of that it means — you mean a lot to me.”

“Yeah, well, I meant it.”

“I know you did,” he nods. Steve pulls back the tiniest bit to be able to see your face fully, his sweet brown eyes locked on yours. “I wanted our first Christmas to be perfect, and I didn’t wanna let you down, but you’re right. They were perfect, because you’re here. And I love you for bein’ here.”

“As long as you’ll have me,” you say. You push his hair off his forehead before letting go of his face and sitting back, “Why don’t you give those ornaments a try?”

“On those trees?” he asks, eyebrows lifted, voice joking.

“Steve.”

”Okay, okay.”

He picks up the skate first. Surprising, considering that one had ended in a physical injury for him, but you say nothing and watch him walk over to your little trees by the window. You join him, sitting on the arm of the couch nearby while he scans over the tree.

“Pick a spot, handsome,” you encourage. “There’s really no wrong answer here.”

He goes to hang the first ornament, hand wavering before setting on a branch.

“Well, maybe not-” Steve tackles you onto the couch before you can finish. You dissolve into giggles as he pokes at your ribs, his head on your chest.

Steve’s done keeping score.

Perfect Christmas. That’s it.

⁺̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇⊛̇̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇

thank you so much for reading!! if you enjoyed please please consider leaving a comment and/or a reblog and letting me know what you thought! it would mean a bunch of<3

[bravenew-what]

Trauma-versaries are no joke

[writtenwhalien]

jump then fall (into you) | part 1

banner by the talented @jimilter​ 💖

pairing ↠ jungkook x reader

genre ↠ cruise AU, fake dating AU, best friends to lovers AU | fluff, angst, smut

word count ↠ 52k (split into 3 parts | pt 1. 24k)

18+ | warnings ↠ swearing, drinking, sexual content: foreplay, oral m. and f., nipple play, protected sex etc.

summary ↠ bringing Jungkook along as your date to your ex’s lavish cruise wedding seemed like a perfect idea at first — all of your family and close friends together, nothing can go wrong… then Jungkook’s ex shows up and all of a sudden you’re in a years long relationship with him. You don’t mind though, really, how hard can sharing a cabin and pretending to be deeply in love with your best friend really be?

note. i'm backkkkk...?! with a disclaimer too:

I’ve been writing this on and off for pretty much two years so 1. it's not proofread bc i have not got the attention span to do that for 50k+ and I never got to read over what I previously wrote before working on it again so it might be a bit mismatched…?  2. I can’t say I’m hugely happy with this fic because it wasn’t a continuous workflow, it just doesn’t match the standards I have for myself but i tried and I’ll do better for the next ones which I’m excited about ;)

please interact and tell me how you find it! <3 it's been forever and i've missed you all 🥺

due to tumblr text post limitations, I’ve had to publish in three parts — links for part 2 + 3 can be found at the end.

 ↠ a part of the seven seas collab hosted by the wonderful yannie @ressjeon 🌊🥰 two years late but I made it :’)

part 1

“Gosh, Y/N, it’s a three week trip, you’re not going for a year!” 

The frustration in Jungkook’s voice has you whipping around, a pair of Valentino’s in one hand, Manolo’s in the other. “It’s Alex’s wedding cruise, Jungkook. Everyone and their parents are going to be there, mine included!” 

“Not mine!” he huffs, putting the last of your swimsuits into the suitcase open in front of him. You don’t blame him for being so frustrated, after all, he has been folding your clothes for the last hour while his single suitcase sits ready to go downstairs in the foyer. 

“Actually in case you’ve forgotten,” you start, stepping carefully through the piles of clothes in your massive closet to go towards him, “my mom has fed and even bathed you once after that time you wet yourself, so technically she’s as good as yours too.”

“That was one time, and I barely even remember it so it doesn’t count.”

“I do,” you smile, coming to stop in front of him. 

He sighs, looking down at the stilettos you’re holding. “We’ve been packing for hours already, you should’ve done this nights ago if it was gonna take this long.”

Now it’s you who’s sighing. “It’s been an hour not hours, besides we’re almost done now.”

Jungkook arches his brow, folding his arms in front of him. “Then what’re all your clothes doing on the floor?”

“They just need to go in one of the suitcases,” you smile. “See, we’re almost done.”

Unconvinced, Jungkook looks around at the mess but eventually nods. “Fine, but you can finish yourself, I’m going to eat—“

“No, wait, you can’t leave me!” you exclaim, reaching for Jungkook as your eyes go wide as a doe.

Telltale traces of a smile on Jungkook’s features let you know he was expecting this. He looks down at you, a loose curl hanging over his forehead. There was once a time when you were the taller one, but that only lasted a few years before Jungkook got in a good few inches between you. 

Both of you were just turning six when you first met although it always felt like Jungkook was a little younger to you in the first few years of your friendship, probably because of his naturally introverted nature which he more often steps out of when he feels comfortable to do so. But back then, he was just a wide eyed six year old who hid behind his mother as she came to work on her first day at the estate you call home. 

Knowing Jungkook was the same age as you and from a single parent household, your mom suggested that he could stay with you instead of his mom needing to hire someone to look after him while she worked. That was probably one of the best things that ever happened to the both of you. Jungkook became a better friend to you than many of those at your private school full of elementary school kids who wished they were ten years older than they were, and as the years went on there was nothing you didn’t do together. 

Naturally, your family got to know Jungkook well and being the little smartass he’s always been, Jungkook impressed your father so much that he helped him to apply for a scholarship position as you moved into high school. Of course Jungkook got in, and though it was only a partial scholarship, your father insisted on paying the rest of his fees which his mother found hard to accept but Jungkook promised your father to pay him back in the future. Fast forward a little more than a decade and Jungkook has paid back all of the fees thanks to being CEO of an affluent software company developed from his love of gaming. 

He struggles to fight his smile and you can see he’s contemplating going down or not, having to choose between food or you.  “What do you even need me for?” he asks, taking the smallest step closer, so small you don’t even notice. 

“Fashion advice?” you shrug, keeping an iron-like grip on his arms. 

He narrows his eyes. “You told me my fashion style is shit.”

“Was,” you correct, sliding your hands up his arms and down his chest with a satisfied smile. “Now is different though, I’ve rubbed off on you.” You glance down at his figure too, checking out his outfit. 

Jungkook chuckles as he follows your gaze. “Why would you need my help when you have yourself then, hm?”

Pouting at him, your arms slip around his waist and squeeze him in a hug. “You’re Mr Muscle, who else is gonna help me carry all this stuff?”

He pouts back sarcastically. “Is princess gonna break a heel if she carries her own suitcase?”

As you shrug, your brows remain furrowed. “Maybe, or a nail,” you say, letting one hand off his waist to show off a fresh manicure. As you wiggle your fingers ahead of him, he breaks into a smile. 

“You know you have a bunch of dudes in suits downstairs, just waiting to help you with this stuff. I’m pretty sure it’s their job.” 

“Yes, but they don’t give me fashion advice like you do,” you respond with a cheeky wink.

Jungkook takes the heels you’re holding off of you. “Here’s some advice — pack light.” He throws the heels behind him somewhere in your closet, earning a frown from you as your eyes follow where they land in the middle of your blown out closet. 

“Fine,” you sigh, looking back up at him. “I’ll lose the heels if you promise you’ll stay with me now.”

As a small smile grows on his lips, Jungkook’s arms find their way around your waist too. “Only if you promise you’ll make me a sandwich before we go?” His smile grows knowingly as he gives in to your charm — you’ve always found it’s easy to encourage Jungkook to go along with whatever you want, he just can’t seem to say no to you. 

“PB and J?” you ask with a smile that matches his.

He nods once, eyes shimmering as he still gazes at you. 

“Of all the foods you could ask for, it’s always PB and J,” you laugh.

He shrugs, letting go as you move to finish packing. “There’s nothing else I want.”

Arching a brow, you throw a few pairs of linen pants towards one of the suitcases in your closet. “We literally have a live-in chef, you know, Frederico, the guy you have a secret handshake with?”

“Yes, what of him?” Jungkook says huffing. 

“And you still want PB and J when he can make you anything?”

Jungkook steps towards your suitcase and picks up a pair of pants to roll. “I know that, but I just need some food in me and quick, so the simple option is best.”

Stepping forward, you take the pants off of him and roll them yourself. “If you would be patient enough to wait a few more minutes then you could have a sandwich that’ll fill you up for longer than half an hour.”

“And if you didn’t have more clothes than half the country combined then we would probably already be on our way to the airport,” Jungkook responds sassily, cocking his head.

“Don’t get smart with me or I won’t make your sandwich,” you sass back.

“I’ll just ask Freddie to make it for me and you don’t get Mr Muscle.”

Grumbling, you shove the rolled pants back into his hands as he laughs, taking them to place in one of the open suitcases. Not long after, all of your suitcases are packed and in the car, ready to go. 

The drive to the airport takes a little under an hour and upon arriving, the car takes you straight to the jet. Apparently you did take a little too long packing as your mom so pointedly lets you know after arriving, but luckily for you there’s a few others missing from the families you’re taking the jet with. With time to kill, Jungkook and you have a few idle chats with the others, most of whom you went to school with so the conversation comes easily but eventually you settle into the seats opposite your parents. 

“How was your drive here, darling?” your mom asks while closing her bag after a little skin TLC. 

“It was fine,” you answer, pulling out your own bag full of the skincare you deemed necessary to carry for the plane trip. 

“And how did you find it, Jungkook?” 

Jungkook shrugs. “It was good.”

“Lovely,” she smiles. “It’s going to be a wonderful trip.”

From beside her, your dad sighs, putting away his tablet. “Do we know how long the flight is to Marbella?”

“Oh, honey,” your mom frowns disapprovingly. “Don’t be such a grumpy lump before we’re even in the air.”

Jokingly, your father looks at Jungkook and you, and then gives your mom a side eye. “I just had a few important meetings that Chris accidentally scheduled for today so I’m wondering if I could still make them online.”

Dismissively, your mom waves her hand. “No work talk, we’re here to enjoy ourselves.”

“Alright, you’re right,” your dad concedes. “Maybe to start we could get a few drinks then, eh?” He raises his brow at Jungkook who approves with a big smile and both of them flag down a flight attendant. 

Once there’s a drink in everyone’s hand, your parents settle into conversation with Jungkook and you. 

“So are you excited to see Alex, Y/N?” your father asks. 

“Absolutely,” you smile. “Though I think I’m more excited to see Sophia and Alias, it’s been a long time since I’ve gotten to spend time with them.”

“Oh, Jungkook, you must be excited to see Sophia too,” your mom says with a bit of a cheeky smile.

Jungkook chuckles nervously, glancing at you though you’re sporting the same smile as your mother. “I mean, yeah, we’re good friends.”

“Well if you weren’t, things would be pretty awkward,” your dad laughs before helping himself to some food he ordered with the drinks. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook mutters, managing a small laugh.

“Oh come on, guys,” you laugh, nudging him. “She’s happy you’re coming too.”

He nods appreciatively before taking a sip of his drink. “It’s her parents I’m more worried about.”

At this, your mom laughs too. “Oh, Leon and Helena love you really, dear, it’s all just for a laugh.” She leans forwards and squeezes his hand with her usual tender smile. “Though if it really bothers you, we could have a word with them, without letting on it’s coming from you of course.”

Smiling, Jungkook shakes his head. “Thanks, that’s really sweet of you but it’s alright, I can take the daggers I get from them,” he chuckles. “After all, what I did was pretty awful.”

“You were sixteen,” you say, patting on the last of your moisturiser. 

He shrugs. “I know, but she’s their little princess.” He looks across at you and then glances at your parents. “It’s like someone doing that to you, your parents would be mad.” 

At that, your father hums in agreement.

“Heck, I’d be mad,” Jungkook adds. 

Looking at him, he shrugs again and smiles. Before you can say anything, he carries on. “Sixteen or not, I literally left Sophia on one of the most important nights of her life.”

“Yeah, it was pretty awful at the time,” you sigh, remembering the night as clear as day.

Almost ten years ago now, the night of both yours and Sophia’s entry into society, the debutante ball. For you, the night was a bit of a blur with it being the first night Alex and you made things official in your relationship, sealing it with a first kiss and many more that evening. It was a magical and whimsical night, and although Alex and you didn’t last, your love for each other still remains as best friends and you couldn’t be happier for him getting married to his dream girl now. 

For Sophia, the night went a little differently... She'd had a crush on Jungkook for a while since, being Alex’s younger sister, she’d seen him often with you. After he found out, he asked her to be her escort to the ball. She of course said yes and everything seemed to be going perfectly until the moment Jungkook was supposed to escort her down the stairs but he had completely disappeared. Sophia was left all alone and completely embarrassed, even after Alias, the ever caring older brother, stepped in and acted as her escort. Jungkook still hasn’t told you the reason he left so abruptly that night. All you remember is not being able to reach him the whole weekend, even when you tried going to his house he was never home. When you finally saw him, he told you he didn’t want to talk about it so you didn’t. 

Of course, everyone else forgot about the incident and even Sophia forgave him after he apologised profusely and endlessly, but Mr and Mrs Cirillo were less forgiving for a while, but after many years it’s just become a joke between them. The fact that he’s invited on the cruise just shows it’s all in the past now. 

However that doesn’t mean Mr and Mrs Cirillo ever pass up an opportunity to remind him of the past… 

“It’s lovely to see you, Y/N, dear,” Mrs Cirillo says, bringing you in for a hug. 

Mr Cirillo stands behind her, taking your hand as soon as his wife lets go. “How was the flight here?”

“It was good, I slept for most of it really.” Stepping away, you turn to look at Jungkook as he approaches them with a meek smile.

Mrs Cirillo smiles back, her words carrying a playful lilt. “There he is, the heartbreaker.”

Jungkook lowers his head at that and you can see his nose scrunching a little. “That’s me, unfortunately,” he says, stepping into Mrs Cirillo’s arms for a brief hug. 

When he takes Mr Cirillo’s hand to shake, the older man shows the same playfulness as his wife. “Nice to see you again, Jungkook. My favourite and least favourite man on board.” 

Jungkook chuckles and Mr Cirillo pulls him in for a hug. “Stay out of trouble, yes?” 

“Of course,” Jungkook smiles, stepping away to stand next to you as your parents walk out onto the main deck.

Their eyes light up as the old friends all greet each other and you take Jungkook’s hand and slip away together before you get roped into a conversation. 

“You alright?” you ask casually as you scan the people all on the deck.

“Good, thanks,” he responds with a gentle squeeze of your hand. He knows that you know how he finds it a little tedious sometimes every time Sophia’s parents mention the past, but he knows he messed up so he doesn’t ever complain about it. In a way, it annoys you when the Cirillo’s always mention it but you know it’s not your place to say anything, especially if Jungkook hasn’t said anything. 

Looking around, you take in many of the familiar faces while scanning the crowds for Alex or one of his siblings. There’s no unfamiliar faces on this part of the deck, and seeing all the waiters walking around offering canapés and drinks, you realise the Cirillo’s must’ve rented out this part of the deck. The excited buzz amongst everyone extends to you as you turn to look out past the balcony towards the sea, stepping towards it and taking Jungkook with you. 

Taking a deep breath of the fresh sea, enjoying the warmth glowing from the sun as a steady breeze blows. Exhaling, you turn around to Jungkook beaming. 

It seems like he was already watching you, waiting as though he knows you’re gonna say something now. Seeing you smile, his corner of his lips turn too. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

“Very,” you nod, turning around to look out again, lowering the sunglasses from your head to stop from squinting. 

“Y/N!” A familiar voice calls your name and you turn around, breaking into the biggest smile when you see Alex approaching, his arms outstretched. “Jungkook!” 

You meet him halfway, excitedly skipping into his hug. He hugs you tight, releasing a sigh as he lets go and hugs Jungkook. “Gosh, it’s been so bloody long, I’ve missed you guys.” 

“Missed you more, buddy,” Jungkook smiles, patting Alex’s back before he lets go. “Congrats on the wedding too, we’re well excited to be here for you.”

Alex laughs, flashing his perfect pearly smile. “Honestly, I’m happier to have you guys here. Half of the people here haven’t even spoken to me in years.” He glances around before adding, “you know how it is.” 

“Mhm,” you nod, squeezing his arm. “You’ve got us though, we’re here for you every step of the way.” 

“Thanks,” he responds, taking two drinks from a passing waiter to give to you both. “You were allowed plus ones though, when do I get to meet them?” He looks across at both of you expectantly, though you see a subtle raise of his brow matched with a small smile that seems to hint he already knows the answer.

“Well, we didn’t really get the chance to ask anyone,” Jungkook answers, looking sideways at you. “So we just thought we’d come with each other.”

“Ah.” The smile on Alex’s lips grows. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Because you know how busy we’ve both been,” you say, shrugging lightly before taking a long sip of your drink.

“Hm, that’s it,” Alex says quietly. 

“BOO!” Large hands tap your shoulders before the man himself jumps in front of you. 

“Alias,” you squeal excitedly, returning the hug he’s already given you. Slightly more wild albeit still as focused as his younger brother, Alias is the eldest of the Cirillo siblings and has become more of an older brother to you over the years.

“You look like you’ve grown,” he says, moving back and beaming as he pulls Jungkook in for a hug. “Both of you.”

“We literally saw you like a month ago,” Jungkook chuckles. 

“Really?” Alias raises his brows in surprise. “Damn, you kids grow fast.” 

“I could say the same thing about that moustache of yours,” you say. 

He smiles smugly. “Looks good right?”

Shrugging, you lean against the balcony. “I think you looked better without it.”

Alias frowns, hand coming up to stroke his moustache subconsciously. “Really?” he asks, looking at you in time to see you raising your glass to your lips to hide your smile. 

“I knew you liked it,” he laughs. “Apparently a lot of people do.”

“Ah, Alias, no one wants to know,” Alex grimaces at his older brother.

Before Alias can defend himself, Jungkook says, “I do.” Alex and you both look at him and he shrugs. “Might grow mine out.”

Alias laughs, throwing his arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “C’mon buddy, I’ll tell you all about it.”

As Alias pulls him away, Alex steps to stand next to you and both of you watch them walk away with Alias talking in a hushed tone as though no one else can find out. 

As you watch them walk away with a fond smile on your face, Alex turns to you.  “So, how have you been?”

Still absentmindedly watching Jungkook and Alias, you hum. “Great.”

“How’s work?”

“Mm, I actually just secured a deal with Park Motors last week.”

Glancing at Alex, you see his brows raise. “Impressive.”

“Yeah, it was a pretty big win for the company and dad was proud of me.” 

Alex smiles. “And were you proud of yourself?”

As Jungkook’s head disappears from the crowd, you turn to face Alex too, taking another sip of your drink. “I know people think I’m just riding off my parent’s success, which yeah, it’s true for the most part, but after doing this all myself I was pretty proud.”

“Good,” he grins. “You should be. You may be one of the most princess-ed girls I know,” he adds with a teasing lilt, “but you’re also one of the most hard working.”

Laughing, you nudge him lightly. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” He leans against the balcony too, pulling down his shades as he turns towards the sea where the sun shines down on the horizon. “What about things with Jungkook?”

Shrugging, you take a small sip. “He’s good.”

Alex glances at you from the corner of his eye with the curve of his lips growing. “Hm, anything else?”

Levelling his face, you break into a smile. “Oh, Alex, you’re never gonna let this go are you?”

He smiles, shaking his head. “Not as long as I see it’s there.” 

Straightening your expression a little, you tilt your head. “But there’s nothing there.”

“Y/N, there’s everything there,” he says, matching your tone. 

“Alex, come on,” you say quietly, traces of a smile returning. 

He shrugs. “I make a perfectly valid point.”

Turning towards the deck again, you sigh. “I don’t see it.”

“I do!” Alex almost exclaims excitedly. “And I have for the longest time.” Letting out a small laugh, he puts his arm around you and squeezes gently. “His big doe eyes used to torture me all the time when I was dating you.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. Jungkook does have doe eyes but you don’t remember seeing them often while dating Alex. 

“Seriously,” Alex says, fighting his case onwards. “I dated you for what, almost a year I think and I’ve never seen anyone sulk for that long.”

“He wasn’t sulking.”

“Listen, I’m almost a married man now, Y/N, and I can tell you all the looks of love…”

When you arch a brow quizzically, Alex sighs and continues. “That boy was sulking for weeks because he hated seeing you with someone else.”

“Oh come on, maybe he had a crush in the past but he’s a grown man now and has had plenty of his own romances.”

Now it’s Alex who’s looking at you with his brow raised. “Like who?”

It takes you a moment to think of a name but a few still come to mind. “Remember Alia, the intern from my dad's company?” you ask rather smugly, although Alex’s reaction shows no surprise. 

“The girl who he went out with like five times.”

You shrug. “That counts for something.

“It really doesn’t,” Alex says matter-of-factly. “Anyway, who else?”

“Hmmm… ooh, Rachel, that super hot secretary!”

“Y/N, that was a one night stand, it literally doesn’t count.”

Sighing, you rack your memory for more, and then comes the answer. “Valentina.”

Alex almost snorts, prompting you to frown at him.

“What?” you question. “That was a real romance, there were feelings there.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Alex almost snorts again. “The most real thing about that relationship was the Chopard watch Valentina tried to use to bribe Jungkook back to her.”

Wincing, you remember the finer details of that supposedly real romance. You turn back out to face the horizon, pulling your own shades down. “Alright, I guess I see your point.”

Gently pushing his point, Alex carries on. “Not to mention that I was your last serious relationship, which was how many years ago now?”

You simply shrug. “I’m not looking for anyone.”

Alex hums thoughtfully. “Or you’ve already ‘found’ your someone.” This earns a glare from you but Alex ignores this. “He’s practically your boyfriend already!” 

“In what way?!”

“You do almost everything together!” Alex exclaims back. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve had sex already!” 

“Alex!” Something in your stomach curls unbidden at the thought. “We haven’t had sex!” you whisper hotly, glancing around to make sure no one heard. 

“Sorry,” Alex mumbles, looking over his shoulder too. Luckily there’s no one nearby, everyone seems too busy engaging in their own excited conversations about the weeks to come. 

Everything you’re hearing now isn’t news to you, you know plenty of people have questioned the relationship between Jungkook and you, and you totally get why, but you’ve been friends since such a young age and that’s perfectly okay. Neither you nor Jungkook have made a move to take things further and maybe that’s just how things are meant to stay, despite what Alex seems to think. 

“Also, what friend agrees to come on a 3 week long cruise for you, knowing full well my father doesn’t miss a single opportunity to roast him.” 

“Here’s here for you, not me.”

“Actually,” Alex raises a finger, “I invited him before you and he said he would meet us in Italy because things were busy with the company. I invited you after him, and the next thing I know is Jungkook is calling me telling me he’ll be coming with you from the start.”

As your eyes narrow, you start to think of how that happened. After Alex invited you, you texted Jungkook straight away to ask if he’d come with you as a date to the wedding. As soon as he said yes, you started waffling on about how fun the trip was going to be and it must’ve been after that that Jungkook told Alex he’d come sooner than he previously planned. 

“Well, any best friend would do that,” you say simply. 

Alex pushes his lips out, brows raised. “I’m your best friend and I wouldn’t do that for you.”

“Hey!” You shove him hard but he barely moves. 

“Oh c’mon, you wouldn’t do it for me either.” Alex looks at you with a smile. 

“Yeah,” you relent. “I probably wouldn’t unless you really needed me.”

Just then, you see Jungkook walking towards you, holding a platter of something. He simply beams when you frown at him in confusion. 

From beside you, Alex raises his glass to his lips. “I’m telling you, the boy is whipped,” he says quietly before taking a sip. 

Jungkook comes within ears width before you can say anything.  “Y/N, look,” he holds out the tray he’s holding, “they have those little cracker things you like with capa, uh, capa-something.” He pushes it closer, gesturing for you to take one while looking pleased with himself.

Looking at the platter, your lips curl mindlessly into a smile. “Caponata,” you say, correcting him gently. 

It’s when Jungkook remembers the little things like this that his place in your heart grows and you’re grateful for having him as your best friend. 

“Yeah, that’s the one,” he smiles. “Here, I got them for you.”

Your brows furrow together as you look down. “The whole platter?”

“Well, yeah,” he says looking down too. “You like them and I’m sure there’s more going around for everyone else.”

From beside you, Alex starts coughing and you’re more than certain you hear the word “whipped” coming out of his mouth. One glance at him proves you’re right as he raises his brows before looking away. 

Jungkook, not having noticed the word Alex let slip, is eating one of the canapés before holding one out for you too. Smiling and thanking him, you take it. 

“Good right?” Jungkook asks, his mouth full as you also eat one whole. 

“So good,” you mumble, brows furrowed as you keep eating. 

Jungkook holds the tray towards Alex. “Want one?” 

“I’m good,” he smiles. “I’ll leave you two to it though, I’ve still got some guests I need to greet.” His smile seems weary though you don’t blame him, sometimes the supposed family friends in your circle don’t seem very much like friends. After saying a temporary goodbye, he takes his leave, leaving Jungkook and you to continue devouring the canapés. 

For a moment, you’re both quiet, save the sounds of pleasure from eating, then Jungkook speaks. “Sophia’s not coming with us by the way.”

Eyes wide, you turn to look at him. “What?!” you question, mouth half full. 

Jungkook takes one glance at you and chuckles. His thumb comes up and wipes something close to your lips. “She’s joining us later, from Nice.”

“Oh.” Your lips turn into a pout. “Who am I gonna hang out with?” 

“You-bo-me,” Jungkook says with his mouthful again.  

“No,” you sigh. “I don’t got you. As soon as Alias is about, you and him turn into Tweedledum and Tweedledee.”

A small laugh escapes Jungkook's lips and you frown at him.

“I’m sorry,” he laughs again, placing the mostly empty tray down on a nearby table. “Look,” he takes your hands and squeezes them, “I promise I’ll stay with you, we can just hang out with Alias too.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say looking up at him. “It’s fine though, you can hang out with whoever you want. You don’t have to stay with me.”

Jungkook hides an amused smile. “I’ll stay with you, we can’t have our princess being alone,” he chuckles again, letting go of your hands to squeeze your cheeks. 

“Mm, my makeup,” you mumble, prying his fingers off your cheeks. “And you can stay with me if you really want to,” you shrug, hiding your smug expression. 

Jungkook scoffs, laughing as you put your sunglasses back on. “I changed my mind.”

“Hey!” you exclaim, and before you get another word out, Jungkook is laughing, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you in.

“I’m joking, now let’s go say hi to the Morgan’s, they’ve been looking this way since Alex was here.”

“They’re probably just judging us,” you grumble. 

Jungkook smiles, turning you around and walking with you. “More reason to say hello.”

Most of the first day is spent the same way, greeting some families who you like and some who you don’t but at least you get to do it with a glass of champagne and Jungkook by your side. By the early evening, everyone is settling into their cabins and exploring the cruise ship which feels more like a palace. 

It’s well past midnight when Jungkook is walking you to your cabin which unfortunately is on another level to yours – Alex mentioned he couldn’t get your cabins closer since Jungkook was supposed to be joining later.

“I am so ready to knockout,” you yawn, pulling out the keycard.

“Make sure you don’t forget to take your makeup off,” Jungkook says as a gentle reminder.

Turning around at the threshold of your door, you look at him as he leans against the wall opposite. “I won’t, and you don’t forget to shower, you still stink of chlorine.”

Jungkook chuckles quietly, careful not to disturb any of the neighbouring cabins who are most likely asleep. Alias and him decided it would be fun to cannonball into the deck pool during prohibited hours and subsequently ended up running away from some of the cruise crew and you just happened to be with them even though you refused to jump in because it’s breaking the rules.

“I’m making you join us next time,” he says.

“That’s never gonna happen.”

Smiling slightly, Jungkook tilts his head. “That sounds like a challenge.”

Laughing, you step out of your room towards him. “I wouldn’t try, Jeon.” Raising your hand, you pinch his nose. “You’ll just fail.”

“Or,” Jungkook raises his brows, taking your hand into his, “it could be one of the best nights you spend here, plus running away is fun,” he grins. 

“You call that fun?” you laugh. 

“Tell me it wasn't.”

You shrug. “I have fun whenever I'm with you anyway.” 

Jungkook smiles, and so do you. It’s not hard to be honest around him, it never has been. That’s probably why you’ve been best friends for so long. “So all the time?” he says. 

“All the time,” you repeat, laughing. 

Lips still holding a gentle smile, Jungkook looks down at you and for a second you wait for him to say something but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he releases a small sigh and pulls you into a hug. 

You feel your body relax in his embrace, the weariness of today’s jet lag and socialising and cheeky antics slowly melting away as you breathe in the comforting smell of his cologne. Even though it’s tainted with chlorine, his arms around you seem to make it worth putting up with. 

His hands slide up your back, patting you softly. “I’ll see you in the morning, hm.”

“Just don’t wake me up before noon,” you mumble.

He laughs, pulling away. “Breakfast ends at 11.”

Groaning, you step towards your door again. “I wish Freddie was with us.”

Chuckling quietly, he starts to make his way towards his cabin. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Night,” you wave, seeing him disappear from view as the door closes. You almost collapse onto your bed but manage to trudge to the bathroom to wash off your makeup and get into your pyjamas before finally sinking into bed and falling asleep.

Knock knock knock

Knock knock.

“Y/N?"

Knock knock knock. “Y/N!”

Grumbling, you pull your pillow over your head.

There’s a few more impatient knocks before you hear Jungkook. “Come on, or I’m going down without you.”

“Go,” you groan, tossing in bed. “I’ll eat later.”

Then you hear a series of whining outside the door. “It's already almost 11, it's embarrassing going by myself you have to come with me, please.”

With one final groan, you force yourself out of bed and open the door. “I said not before noon, Koo.”

“Please,” he says, lips forming an effortless pout. “I’m hungry.”

Well you can’t say no now. Sighing, you step aside for him to come in. “Give me twenty minutes.”

Jungkook slumps onto your bed, already dressed casually in a white tee and black shorts. “You have ten.”

With Jungkook rushing you, you meet halfway and manage to get ready in 15 minutes instead. It seems the Cirillo’s spared no expense and managed to keep an entire upper deck private for all of the meals served on sea days. There’s a breakfast buffet laid out inside but before you can even grab yourself a plate, you see your mom frowning at you from her seat outside. She raises her brows and points to her wrist, her not so subtle way of reminding you you’re late.

With a big smile, you mouth sorry and she just laughs to herself, shaking her head. 

“Y/N,” Jungkook calls your name. You look over at him and he’s already standing behind a few people up for seconds, waiting his turn. Walking over, you take a plate and glance down at the table ahead of you. 

“This looks good,” you think out loud. 

“It does, doesn’t it?” Jungkook says, glancing around. He frowns at something, moving his head to get a better look. 

“What? What’s wro–?”

His eyes widen and suddenly he’s crouching enough to remove the inches difference between you, hands gripping your arms. “Hide me.”

“What?” 

“Hide me,” he repeats, the insistence in his voice clearer than before. 

Putting your plate down, you push his shoulders lower. “I am,” you whisper harshly. “But why?” you say, glancing around. 

“No, don’t look,” Jungkook says, his tone becoming something like a whine. “She’ll come over if she sees you.”

“Who?”

Jungkook groans, eyes closing. “Why is she here?”

Ignoring his request not to look, you turn around and scan the room, looking for any familiar faces while your mind goes through a mental list of names of people who could make Jungkook want to hide before a whole breakfast buffet. Just as your name arrives at a potential suspect, the woman herself comes into your view.

“Oh.” 

Tall, glamorous and even graceful, Valentina Forero struts her preppy, perfect figure, dressed head to toe in designer and a handbag so small you’re sure not even her phone can fit in there. 

Immediately, you look away from her and down at Jungkook. He’s already looking up at you with a weary expression. Your lips form an apologetic smile and he sighs, a string of curse words coming out from his mouth in the form of a hushed whisper while he stays pressed against your side trying to hide himself from view.

Of all the things that could possibly go wrong, this has to be the single worst thing.

Valentina is Jungkook’s ex friend with benefits of almost a year. They met shortly after college at your grad party and they started off as casual and eventually there were some feelings involved but they never really bloomed. 

When Jungkook tried to end things after some months, Valentina had a lot to say and for some reason just didn’t want to let him go even though she wasn’t looking for something real. 

You don’t blame her, Jungkook attracts people like a magnet, but their relationship was a little more on the toxic side with some jealousy and so many stupid arguments no doubt stemming from the feelings that budded but never grew. It was better for both of them to call it quits, so they never made things official but to call Valentina anything less than an ex would be an injustice to some of the things they went through.

Stealing a glance at her again, you watch for a few seconds as she makes her way through the families, greeting each one with a bright smile.

As she moves, Jungkook moves too, trying to stay hidden from her view behind you. His head presses against your arm, cheek almost against your left boob.

“Um, Jungkook,” you say, smiling. “I get you’re trying to hide but uh, I don’t think this is a good look…”

“What?” he says, still distracted as he glances towards where Valentina is.

“We’re standing at a breakfast bar on a family cruise and your face is pretty close to my boobs.”

He looks up at you, eyes widening when he realises. “Oh, sorry.” He stands straight, turning to face the bar instead. 

“It’s cool,” you answer, picking up your plate again and nudging him to move forward. “”I’m sure we’ve given the Collins something to talk about for today.” Turning to your right at the eyes ogling you, you smile plastically at Mr and Mrs Collins.

“Sorry,” Jungkook mutters again absentmindedly as he slowly fills his plate.

“Jungkook,” you say, nudging him again as you fill your own. “It’s gonna be fine, there’s so many people here I’m sure you won’t see each other that much, and even if you do, you have me.” You’re already beaming when he looks at you, and his own eyes crease in the corners and he smiles too. “Thanks. I guess you’re right but please don’t ever let me be alone with her.”

“I won’t,” you laugh. “Although once she knows you’re here, I’m sure she’ll try to hookup with you at least once.”

“I hope not,” Jungkook sighs. “She’s not a bad girl but I just don’t wanna go back there, y’know?”

“Mhm, I know,” you say, turning towards the table your parents are seated at. “But what I don’t know is how we’re gonna get to sit without her seeing you.” You nod in the direction of your parents.

Jungkook glances around. “Let’s go sit with Alex and Thalia,” he says, nodding in the opposite direction.

Stealthily, the two of you make your way out onto the deck and approach Alex and his fiancee unseen.

“Oh, Y/N,” Thalia beams, leaning in for a hug as soon as she sees you. “You look beautiful.” 

You snort. “I woke up half an hour ago, I definitely look awful.”

“Absolutely not,’ Thalia says with a gracious wave of her hand before Jungkook gets up to greet her too. “You both look lovely and I'm so happy you’re here!”

“Of course,” you say, smiling at both her and Alex. “We’re even happier to be here and so excited for you.”

“Thank you, angel,” she winks.

“Jungkook, are you okay?” Alex asks quietly, frowning as he watches Jungkook carefully. Glancing to your right, you also notice Jungkook is hunched over his food.

“You’re just drawing more attention to yourself like that,” you let him know before turning back to Alex. “Valentina is here,” you say with a small raise of your brow and both Alex and Thalia immediately let out a little “ah”.

Thalia winces apologetically when she glances back at Jungkook. “I do believe that may be on me. My mother is in the same club as her mother so it seems an invitation was deemed non-negotiable, unfortunately,” she adds, placing subtle emphasis on the last word.

Jungkook shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, I was gonna end up seeing her again eventually at some point.”

Alex coughs, his expression changing. “I do believe that time is coming sooner than you want though.”

Jungkook frowns but you understand what Alex means, as does Thalia as you both look up just in time to see Valentina a few feet away, approaching your table.

With a smile that’s far too innocent for her, she stands at the edge of the table closest to Jungkook. “Well, hello there.”

Alex, being the sweetheart he is, is the first to respond to her greeting, and without surprise, Thalia follows quickly. “Thank you for coming,” Alex says as he gives her a quick hug.

“Thank you for having me.” Valentina steps to the side to greet Thalia too. “And congratulations, I’m so happy for both of you!”

“Thank you,” Thalia says with a genuine smile. As she takes her seat, you get up to greet her too. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Val,” you say as you meet her in a brief hug, although you can’t say you mean it but you hold no animosity towards her. 

“You too, Y/N,” she winks. 

Before she even releases you, Jungkook is getting up and already avoiding eye contact with her. “Hey,” he says, just as she leans towards him too. 

“Hello, Jungkook.” When she gives him a hug, it’s a little longer than your own but Jungkook doesn’t push away despite his expression looking like he wants to. 

Alex, Thalia and you have to fight to keep your smiles contained.

“Gosh, it’s been so long, hasn’t it?” Valentina says as she steps back and takes a seat. 

“I guess,” Jungkook says, showing little expression as he sits back down and resumes eating his breakfast. 

“Oh, come on, it’s been almost two years.” She gives him a knowing expression before flicking her hair behind her shoulder with a flamboyant flair that’s signature for Valentina. “I’m sure you missed me.” She leans her elbows on the table. “I know I’ve missed you.”

Seeing Jungkook’s constipated expression, you step in to help him out. “We all missed you, Valentina,” you smile. “It’s impossible not to.” That’s not a lie either, although she was a big personality to deal with sometimes, she still knew how to have fun and was great to talk to. 

“Thank you, Y/N,” she says, returning your smile before turning her attention back to Jungkook. “You still look as good as you always have too, Kookie.” She leans forward and squeezes his bicep, maybe one too many times. “You’re still going to the gym I see.”

Jungkook stiffens next to you, meanwhile, your eyes are fixated on her hand on his arm. In a gesture of support, you discreetly slip your hand behind his elbow. 

Sitting across from you, your friends both notice this. Then, the cogs in the brilliant mind of Alexander Cirillo turn and he comes up with what can only be a genius idea. Perhaps it's all the romance he’s been experiencing recently with his own fiancee, but Alex is convinced that this can only have one outcome, the only possible outcome – the one that’s been written in the stars since Jungkook and you met so many years ago, he’s sure of it.

Beaming, Alex looks at Valentina. “Don’t they look so good together?”

She pauses then frowns. “Together?”

Your own expression matches Valentina’s as you glance at Alex too. 

“Yes, together,” he repeats as a fact, smiling at Jungkook and you before looking at Valentina.

“You’ve heard, no? Jungkook and Y/N are together.”

From next to you, Jungkook swallows hard and your hand subconsciously tightens around his arm. Both of you are staring at Alex and he just gives you a subtle raise of his brow. 

“Oh, my,” Valentina smiles, and although there’s some kind of genuinity to it, there’s more you can see but haven’t got the mental capacity to try to decipher right now when you’re still trying to figure out what Alex is doing.

 “I should’ve known this was gonna happen, you always were inseparable,” she says with somewhat of an eye roll. 

Jungkook laughs awkwardly, but he’s not stupid and he knows Alex isn’t either. This is one surefire way he can keep Valentina and any of her advances away from him for the next three weeks. All he has to do is pretend to be dating you… how hard can that be?

“Yeah, I guess it was meant to be,” he says, sounding a little stilted. 

You’re still sitting a little dumbfounded but Thalia also gives you an expression that tells you to improvise better. The most you can manage is a meek smile. 

Jungkook responds almost as awkwardly, putting his arm around you which makes Alex laugh.

“Oh, don’t be so coy,” he says, sneaking in a wink to you as Valentina’s eyes remain locked on you both. “It’s been almost what? Eight months?”

“Uh, yeah, almost,” you answer, suddenly feeling shy with the way Jungkook’s hand is gripping your waist. 

It’s not like he’s never had his hand on your waist before — his face was all up in your boobs only fifteen minutes ago — but the feeling remains. It makes your cheeks go warm, your heart races a little faster and your fingers go fuzzy. 

You’re sure it’s showing on your face but Valentina doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does, she must think it’s down to you finding this awkward. 

“Well, congratulations to you too then,” she says, wearing a smile that doesn’t actually seem anything less than genuine, but you’re aware there’s more to her words.

“Thank you,” Jungkook and you say in unison. 

Valentina nods, taking it as her cue to leave. “I’ll see you all around, and except for the engaged couple who get a pass, let’s keep the pda to a minimum please,” she adds airily, words directed to Jungkook and you as she saunters off. 

“Can’t promise anything with these two,” Alex calls out after her.

When he looks back at you, he’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Thalia purses her lips in a smile that resembles a child trying not to laugh while they’re getting told off. 

Turning to them, you burst. “What the hell was that?” you say hotly, seeming more flustered than anything else. 

Alex shrugs. “Sorry, it was the best thing I could think of.” 

“It could be worse,” Thalia adds with a smile that’s supposed to be apologetic but the gleam in her eyes tells you she’s finding this just as amusing as her fiancé. 

Then, Jungkook shifts from beside you and only now do you realise you’re still holding his arm. “Well,” he says, briefly glancing down as you let go, “I guess we’re dating now.”

With a small raise of your brows, you shrug lightly and try not to show any signs of how flustered you’re feeling. “I guess so.”

When you meet his gaze, for a second you go still and think of what it means, how might you be expected to act with Jungkook — but really, it doesn’t seem that much different from how you already are now. Except of course, if you ever had to indulge in any public displays of affection, cheek kisses, lingering hugs, maybe even a peck on the lips…  

The thought of it all sets loose a swirl of butterflies in your stomach and only then do you realise that your gaze is still locked on Jungkook, and he too, is still staring at you. 

With those butterflies still swarming, you abruptly break away from his gaze and notice the tips of his ears are turning pink. You wonder if he’s thinking the same as you right now. 

“See, already believable.”

Alex’s voice interrupts your thoughts and when you turn to flare at him, he’s got a smug smirk on his face. 

“You’re supposed to be smart,” you say with a sigh, pushing down the butterflies that it almost seems like Alex knows all about. “Couldn’t have come up with something smarter?”

“This is smart,” Alex says with a hint of sass.

“How?” you sass back. 

Leaning back, he puts his arm around Thalia as his smirk grows into a smile. “You’ll see, just give it some time,” he sighs, punctuating his sentence with a wink. 

The end of the first night in Cartagena is celebrated with a formal dinner at a private venue with the most beautiful view of the coast. 

The Cirillo’s had a special menu created of authentic foods from the town and the dishes were nothing less than exquisite. So much so that Alias and you are both slumped on a hammock on the balcony with bellies full and happy. A few of the guests walk past and side eye you both, probably because Alias has ungraciously undone the top button of his suit pants but it doesn’t bother either of you. 

“Probably shouldn’t have eaten so much,” you mumble, looking up at the night sky.

“We’ve still got dessert,” Alias sighs, patting his belly. 

“Well sitting there isn’t going to help,” Jungkook’s voice says from behind you. 

Turning your head, you smile when you see Jungkook with two dessert plates in his hand. He comes and sits next to you, handing one to each of you.

Alias still manages to devour his serving in silence, but you take a little longer to eat, wondering if Valentina might be somewhere near now that Jungkook is here; you’re certain she’ll be keeping a closer eye on you both so you ought to be making a conscious effort to act more like a couple but you’re not really sure what else to do. Jungkook bringing you dessert seems couple-ish enough, even though it’s what you would do on a usual night anyway.

The three of you fall into a comfortable silence and you give Alias the rest of your dessert to finish as you collapse into the hammock again. As you do so, you feel Jungkook’s hand brush against yours and immediately you glance down at your hands, noticing how your arms and thighs are touching too. Again, it’s nothing unusual for you, but you start to wonder why it feels a little different now you’ve noticed it.

“Don’t look now,” he says, voice barely a murmur, “but she’s watching us.”

When you hum quietly in acknowledgement, his fingers brush the back of yours tentatively again and for some reason unrelated to the wind that’s blowing, you feel your skin prickling. Releasing a small breath, Jungkook curls his hand, fingers slipping between yours. The pads of your fingers press against him and you return your focus to the night sky above rather than the weird way your heart is beating now.

From your other side, Alias lets out a satisfied sigh before sitting back beside you. “So,” he says without missing a beat, “what’s up between you guys?”

“Hm?” You look at him with a small frown.

“You heard me,” he repeats with the signature boyish grin that he and his brother share. It’s enough to let you know that he knows.

“We’re, uh, together,” Jungkook answers.

Alias snorts. “You gotta sound more convincing than that, Jungkook.”

“I’d like to see you pretend to date someone,” you say, nudging his side.

Shifting to face you, Alias raises a brow. “That’s easy, watch and learn, lover boy.” He leans closer, arm moving across your chest to touch some hair behind your ears.

You get his point – Alias is close enough to lean in and kiss you if he wanted to, and the small action seems intimate enough since you’re almost laying down with him beside you.

His hand gently traces down your cheek and you giggle, finding it funny as he keeps glancing at Jungkook who shoves him back before he goes any further.

“Alright, I get it,” Jungkook says, somehow shifting even closer to you.

When you glance at him, you can’t help but giggle at his expression. He looks a little annoyed, and although you don’t think it, anyone else might think he’s crossed the fine line to jealous — Alias certainly does. 

“Alright, I know, hands off your girlfriend,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. 

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook mutters, “Yeah, whatever.”

Alias just chuckles, leaning back and resting his palm behind his head but unlucky for him, his moment of rest is short lived. 

“Oh for goodness sake Alias!” The hushed whisper of Mrs Cirillo has all of your heads turning. She appears out of nowhere beside the hammock, a look of shock and horror on her face. “Is there a reason you’re basking in the sunset with your trousers half undone?” 

“Actually,” Alias says unbothered, holding up a finger, “only the zipper is undone, so by the length of the trousers, mother, they’re nowhere near half undone.” 

Frustrated, she glances around. “People must be thinking all sorts.” She looks at Jungkook and you who smile awkwardly, sitting up straight as you hope not to get scolded. 

Mrs Cirillo is no stranger when it comes to teaching etiquette and given the many years of friendship between your families, she’s definitely not a stranger to teaching you a few things, and over the years, Jungkook too. 

She sighs when she looks at you. “Darling, you look beautiful. Jungkook, you too, please teach my son a thing or two.” She sighs again impatiently and Alias grumbles next to you as he does up his zipper. “Now, when you’ve made yourself decent, please come with me, your father wants you to meet someone,” she says, not waiting for a response.

Alias groans. “Who? I thought I had met them all.”

“Not this one,” Mrs Cirillo replies airily as she’s still walking away. “He’s just joined us tonight.”

Like the dutiful son he is, Alias gets up and follows his mother, though not without groaning about it some more.

Jungkook and you watch him go, but just like Alias, your moment of rest is short lived.

“Um, Y/N…” Jungkook’s voice sounds apprehensive and when you look at him, his expression seems the same. He’s stretching his neck and looking out towards the opposite direction of the balcony towards the main hall. “Is that… Valentina, with your parents?”

Standing up to get a better look, you realise that Jungkook is right. Valentina is mid-way greeting your parents, your mom leaning in to give her a hug. 

Looking down at Jungkook, you both realise at the same time – your parents don’t know about the two of you. 

Jungkook doesn’t wait for you to say anything and instead – with zero regard for the high heels on your feet – he grabs your hand and rushes you towards them.

“Ow, wait, Jungkook, slow down!”

“Can’t,” he says, although you feel his pace slow down a little. “She’s gonna say something, of course she is.”

Jungkook isn’t wrong and the look on your parents face as you’re less than a few feet away from them tells you that Valentina has just said it. Your dad looks confused and your mom is frowning, her head tilting in the way it does when she’s not sure she believes something.

“Mom!” 

She turns her head to the sound of your voice, as does Valentina and your father.

“Dad,” you smile, catching your breath as Jungkook and you stop in front of them. 

Jungkook chuckles awkwardly next to you and you feel his hand go around your waist. “Sorry to, uh, interrupt…” he purposely avoids Valentina’s gaze. “We just, uh,” he glances at you, “we had a question.” 

“Well, so do we,” your dad starts, looking at you with the same confused expression. “What—”

“The dresses for the couple dance!” you blurt, knowing exactly what your father was about to ask. It would totally blow your cover if it seemed like your parents didn’t know about Jungkook so you need to come up with something fast. “We need to know the colours of the dresses for the couple’s dance, for the wedding.”

If your dad looked confused before, he looks almost dumbfounded now. “A couple’s dance?”

“Y/N, what couple dance?” your mom asks somewhat impatiently and you’re certain she wants to ask the same question your dad was about to, which is most likely about Jungkook and you.

“The one for the wedding,” Jungkook answers for you. “All the couples are doing a dance after Alex and Thalia, you know? At the wedding.” He squeezes your waist gently and you chuckle.

“Exactly,” you say, taking your mom's hand discreetly. “Since Jungkook and I are dancing together, well, he needs to know the colour of my dress and I’ve forgotten.” You say it with no hesitation but with the way you’re squeezing her hand repeatedly, your mom still seems confused.

She glances at Valentina who is now staring at Jungkook’s hand right around your waist, before glancing back at you. 

Taking advantage of Valentina’s momentary lapse in attention, you give her a subtle raise of your brow and hope that mother-daughter telepathy is a real thing. 

“A couple’s dance?” your father asks again. “Honey, I didn’t know about this,” he says to your mom. 

“Well, yes, I suppose I forgot to tell you,” she says, squeezing your hand back and you let out a grateful sigh of relief, as does Jungkook. 

“Y/N, your dress is periwinkle blue for the party,” she says to you before looking at Jungkook. You can see the apprehension in her expression though it’s only noticeable to you. “Jungkook, sweetheart, I’ll make sure your suit is matching with Y/N’s of course.”

“Thank you,” he nods, lips pursed. 

Together, you glance at Valentina who already seems bored. 

“Well, I’ll come find you later, Mrs L/N,” she says, already turning to step away. 

Your mom says a quick goodbye before Jungkook and you are left alone with her and your dad. 

“Is there a reason I didn’t know about this couple's dance?”

Letting out a small laugh, Jungkook pats your dad's shoulder. “Sorry, we made that up, there isn’t a couple’s dance.“

“There isn’t?”

“No, there isn’t,” your mom answers, her brow raises as she looks between Jungkook and you. “But what I would like to know is why we just had to lie and why on earth is Valentina congratulating your father and I about you two and your relationship?”

“It’s because of me,” Jungkook answers immediately which prompts a look of surprise from your parents. “I just wanted an easy way to keep away from Valentina and saying I’m with Y/N was the best way for me to do it.” He lowers his head looking a bit ashamed. 

“Well it was actually Alex who said it first,” you say, stepping forward. “He pretty much roped us into it with Valentina right there, we were clueless.” You take Jungkook’s arm and smile at your parents. “It’s just a little white lie and honestly as long as Jungkook and I are okay with it, then it’s harmless.”

“And you are okay with it?” your dad asks. 

“Sure.”

Your mother frowns, the apprehension still not having left her expression. “And Jungkook… you’re okay with it too?”

Jungkook nods. “Very okay with it.”

“Alright then, but just be wary.” Your mom glances between you both. She opens her mouth as if to say more but shakes her head instead. “Who else knows?”

“Alex, Thalia, Alias, and now you both.”

“Hm, if you want to keep it a secret then I would keep it to that. The more people who know the more likely it is to come out.”

“Yes, I agree,” your dad says, frowning as he thinks. “Although I do think it would make sense to tell Leon and Helena.”

Your mom agrees with him. “I suppose it does but it’s up to you both.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, brows raising. It’s not unusual for your parents to share something with the Cirillo’s, but when it’s something like this, a lie, you don’t imagine your parents telling them.

Jungkook shuffles awkwardly. “Uh, they’re coming over now.”

Your mom looks up, smiling as they come over. “Yes, Y/N, after all it’s not really such a big lie. Jungkook and you do everything together anyway, how much more different can this be?”

“Right,” you nod, confused by the sentiment those words make you feel — perhaps Alex isn’t so wrong, maybe you do do everything with Jungkook. It must be giving the wrong idea to people… 

Though that doesn’t matter now since you need to seem like you’re dating him. 

“Just who I was looking for,” Mrs Cirillo beams as she approaches, but instead of looking at your mom, she’s looking at you.

“Me?” you ask, surprised. 

“Yes.” She looks at Jungkook too. “And you.”

Jungkook shares the same expression as you. “Me?”

“Oh, yes, and don’t act so shy either of you.” Her smile seems rather cheeky, as does Mr Cirillo’s who stands beside her. “What’s this I hear about you two dating now, hm?”

“Oh.” Smiling hesitantly, you prepare yourself to tell them the truth as well. This feels a bit different though because you can see the excitement in Mrs Cirillo’s face, even in Mr Cirillo. 

“I mean it’s about time,” Mr Cirillo says with a deep chuckle, looking at your parents to agree. 

Jungkook looks rather pained as he looks between them both. “Who told you?”

“Alias, of course,” Mrs Cirillo says. “He said you’ve been keeping it a secret for some time though I don’t see why, this is wonderful news!” 

She waves her hand with the statement and with it, a part of you suddenly feels like you’re being let down by yourself. It’s odd to see them so happy for Jungkook and you, only for it not to be real. 

You don’t blame them though — you’ve only been pretending to date Jungkook for a day but you’re already starting to see Alex’s point a little bit more. Having Jungkook by your side just feels right. 

Come to think of it, if anyone else asked you to pretend to be their girlfriend for a few weeks, you’d definitely say no. It would be hard to act so close with someone not only emotionally but physically, whereas thinking of the way Jungkook was so close to your side just a little while ago on the hammock, fingers curled around yours, you feel yourself coil at even the thought of being with anyone else. 

That’s not unusual though, right? The only reason you can’t imagine it with anyone else is because Jungkook is your best friend. He’s the guy you’re most comfortable around and so you feel safe with him. Thoughts pausing, your gaze drifts to him as you briefly zone out from whatever joke Mrs Cirillo is making. 

Jungkook still looks on hesitantly and the way his bottom lip moves, you can tell he’s waiting to say something. As soon as he sees his chance and quickly gets a word in. “Oh, well, actually, Mrs Cirillo, it’s not really real.”

She looks towards him and frowns a little. “What do you mean?” There’s disappointment in her tone that you (for some unknown reason) can relate to.

“It’s more of a make believe relationship, if that’s one way to put it,” your dad answers albeit looking confused himself. 

Mr Cirillo appears to be on the same brainwave as your dad as he looks confused too. “That’s absurd. I believe it very much.”

“Yes, yes,” Mrs Cirillo says, nodding. “Who wouldn’t?”

Pushing aside your own confused feelings, you help clear up this mess. “What we’re trying to say is that it’s not a real relationship.” You glance at Jungkook who looks at you and nods. “We’re just pretending to date.”

“Oh.” Their expressions fall, small frowns replacing the excitement in their eyes. 

“Why would you do that?” Mr Cirillo asks. 

“My ex is on the cruise,” Jungkook answers. “You probably remember her, Valentina?” 

There’s a few seconds of quiet until Mr Cirillo finds the name familiar. “Ah, yes, tall girl, Forero if I’m not mistaken?”

Jungkook nods, lips pursed. 

“So she’s the reason you’re doing this?” Mrs Cirillo gestures between Jungkook and you. 

Jungkook nods again. 

She sighs quietly. “Honestly, it all seems a bit fuddy duddy, Valentina is harmless. There’s better ways to keep someone away, Jungkook, wouldn’t it be better to just ask her to stay away from you?”

“That might come across as more rude than this,” you say with a shrug. “Also, we ought to mention that this was all Alex’s idea.”

“Alex?!” Mrs Cirillo exclaims. “Did he even ask you first?”

“Nope,” you shake your head with a smile having absolutely no qualms throwing your best friend under the bus. 

“Oh, why didn’t you say so sooner?” Mrs Cirillo turns and reaches for her husband's hand. “Leon, I do believe that boy is getting almost as troublesome as his older brother.”

Mr Cirillo laughs. “Oh, it’s just a little fun, besides, having Jungkook and Y/N pretending to play house can’t be all that bad.” He turns to Jungkook and you and winks.

You return his cheek with a smile. “It’s actually easier than it looks.”

“I’m sure it is,” he quips with a quick raise of his brow. His smirk seems telling but you don’t think anything of it at the moment as you feel Jungkook’s hand on your arm.

“Just don’t tell anyone please,” he says, chuckling nervously.

“Of course not,” Mrs Cirillo says. “I think Alex may have been onto something anyway.” She glances towards your mom and they share a smile. “Let’s get something to drink, hm?”

Your mom laughs, taking her arm. “Yes, please, I need one.”

Together, they walk off and to you it looks like they’re high schoolers sharing secrets again — you’re sure they’re going to have lots to talk about again today. 

Mr Cirillo chuckles as they go off. “Three guesses what they’re talking about,” he says quietly to your dad who shares a smile with his friend before they both turn to Jungkook and you.

“Well, I think I’m going to go and look for more dessert,” you say, slowly taking a step back to excuse yourself and Jungkook. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna do that too,” Jungkook says, nodding his head at your dad and Mr Cirillo.

“Of course, I’ll see you later on,” your dad smiles. His eyes fall to where Jungkook’s hand is holding your arm and his smile grows just a little wider but before you can think anything of it, Mr Cirillo makes a comment.

“That’s a nice suit you’re wearing, Jungkook.” He nods, looking visibly impressed.

“Thanks.”

Mr Cirillo continues. “I remember when you would wear your suits from those high street stores with the cheap labels but look at you now, kid.”

Pausing in your slow retreat, you blink. You’ve known Mr Cirillo all your life so you know that the comment really holds no ill intent, and also bearing in mind the fact that you know just how much he has come to admire Jungkook and cares for him as much as he does for you, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay for Mr Cirillo to make a comment like that.

Jungkook only smiles, though he doesn’t need to say anything for anyone to see that the backhanded compliment isn’t appreciated. He continues to step away but now you’re rooted firmly in the spot.

“Well with a personality like his and far more brains than most people combined, Jungkook has never needed material to make him look good, wouldn’t you agree, Mr Cirillo?” Your expression is friendly enough but your tone? Not so much.

He smiles awkwardly, immediately having understood his mistake. “Does that mean the opposite for myself?” he asks lightly.

“Oh, I’ve never thought so,” you say, smiling plastically. “Those words came from your own mouth.”

Mr Cirillo laughs. “You’re a sharp one, Y/N. That's why I like you a lot.”

“Likewise, Leon,” you wink, reaching for Jungkook’s arm. “Now we’ll be off.”

Mr Cirillo still chuckles and you catch your dad smiling at you as you walk away with Jungkook.

“Did you just call him ugly?” Jungkook asks with a small laugh once you're out of earshot. 

“I didn’t call him anything,” you shrug.

He laughs again, coming to a stop with you near the dessert table where you both browse the selection. “You know I could’ve answered myself though,” he says after a moment. 

Taking your pick, you turn to him with a small pout. It’s not the first time someone has made a comment about Jungkook that has annoyed you more than him, and you know that Jungkook prefers to pick and choose his battles wisely, unlike you always feeling as though you have to say something. 

“I know, sorry,” you wince a little. “Force of habit.”

“It’s okay,” he smiles, taking a bowl of Eton mess. 

Together, you start walking towards the same hammock you were previously sitting at.

“I actually think it’s kinda cute,” he adds.

Your brows raise inquisitively. “Having me as your knight in shining armour?”

He shrugs, taking a spoonful into his mouth as you both sit down. “More like my princess with her many privileges.” His lips curl into a smile as he says it.

Laughing, you lean back comfortably into the hammock. “Well, of course, Mr Cirillo wouldn’t dare say anything to me.”

“And no one else other than you would insult Mr Cirillo to his face.”

Holding up your fork, you laugh again. “I only implied, there’s a difference.”

Jungkook hums, leaning back next to you. He takes a big spoonful into his mouth, eating this slowly while you steal some of his. Swallowing, he sits up a little beside you. “You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Looking up at him, you frown. “Do what?”

“Pretend to date me.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to?”

He shrugs. “If it makes you uncomfortable, or even if you just don’t want to.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, sitting up with him.

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, watching your expression for any signs of a lie. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” you repeat.

With those words, Jungkook seems to relax. “Okay.” Faint traces of a smile appear on his face as he leans back. 

“The soap here smells amazing,” Thalia says, bringing her hands to her nose to sniff again a few times after drying them. 

Tossing your used hand towel in the hamper, you take a sniff too. “Mm, it does. I smell coconut.”

“And yuzu,” Thalia says, still inhaling the smell. 

Laughing, you pull her hands away from her nose as you walk out of the washroom together. 

The corridor is dimly lit as you walk back towards the restaurant but you’re very impressed by the interior, the burgundy and golden interior of this part of the venue complimenting each other well, especially with the many plants lining the corridors. 

“Where’s Alex?” you ask.

“Somewhere around here,” Thalia answers. “Honestly I lost him an hour ago after he went to check out the golf course here.”

“There’s a golf course here?” you ask, surprised. Though really you don’t know why you’re surprised, walking to the bathroom was a mission on its own, this place is huge. 

“Yeah they have everything, tennis courts, basketball, there’s even a riding school.”

At that, your ears perk up. “Are the horses available to hire?”

Thalia turns to you with a smile. “You wanna go for a canter?”

“Can we?” You ask, eyes lighting up too. “Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve been riding.”

“We’ll have to ask but I’m sure my dad could sort something out for us. Although we have booked a resort for when we get to Barcelona and later on in Malta too. They’re renowned for their riding instructors.”

Laughing, you walk around the next corner together. “How have you booked resorts while we’re on a cruise? I bet Mrs Cirillo had something to do with it,” you add, knowing that she always has to have everything and the best of it for her kids.

Thalia nods with a smile. “My mom and yeah, Helena. They’ve been planning this for a year, of course there’s going to be something for everyone.” 

“Strippers?” you ask, brows raising.

“Except that.”

“Hm, fair,” you say, frowning as you walk around another corner. “Anyway, I don’t really care for the instructors but it’ll have to be Barcelona. I just wanna ride, it’s been so long since I last went.”

Thalia agrees. “Sure, I’ll ask my dad, I’m pretty sure he’s already friends with the owner of the one in Barcelona so it should be easy.”

“Great,” you smile, excited by the thought, though your smile turns into a frown as you realise you’re walking by the same door you just walked out of a little while ago. 

At the same time, Thalia slows down. “Are we lost?” she asks.

Looking up at the women’s washroom sign, your frown deepens. “Yeah, I think we’ve just gone in a circle.” You look up and down the corridor, taking a few steps in the opposite direction from which you just came to follow a different path. “Maybe we should try going left from here instead?”

“There really should be a clearer exit,” Thalia huffs. “My feet hurt.”

Laughing, you glance back at her. “I don’t think anyone was taking into account the fact that people might be walking in 6-inch heels down these corridors– oh.” Mid-sentence, you bump into someone as you’re walking around the next corner. “Sorry,” you say, looking up at the guy as you feel steady hands on your arms to stop you from stumbling. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says at the same time, looking down.

Oh. 

His brows knit together before a smile breaks out on his face. “Y/N?”

“Lawrence!” A smile appears on your face embarrassingly fast. “Hi!”

He chuckles softly, taking a step back and taking his hands with him. You don’t know whether to appreciate the sweetness or be sad they’re gone.

Lawrence Goldman is one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever laid eyes on with a personality to match, and he was your high school crush for years. He was everyone’s crush to be honest, but even in uni, you never were able to stop swooning over him, but that’s all it’s ever been, a crush. For some reason, you could never let yourself take it further despite him showing interest a few times. 

“It’s been so long, my gosh, how are you?” he asks, eyes skimming your figure. “You look absolutely amazing,” he adds without a second thought.

“Hey again,” Thalia says, appearing beside you.

Lawrence gives her a smile, his attention quickly returning to you.

“I’m great,” you beam, “how are you? I’m surprised to see you, I thought you were working in Singapore?”

“I am,” he nods before looking at Thalia. “Well I was, but there was no way I was gonna miss this one’s wedding.”

Thalia laughs, putting her arm around him briefly. “Love you for it, Goldie.”

Lawrence rolls his eyes at the nickname and you smile. Thalia and Lawrence attended the same prep school before reuniting in college, and it’s through Lawrence that Thalia was introduced to Alex and the rest of you — your world is apparently a very small world so Lawrence being here really shouldn’t be a surprise to you, but with everything else going on, you may have forgotten about Lawrence. 

“I’ve only just joined because I had a meeting I couldn’t miss yesterday,” he adds, eyes skimming down your figure once more while he thinks you’re still smiling at Thalia but you definitely don’t miss it. 

“Ah, I see.” You can’t help it when you mirror his actions, noting how the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, giving a peak of the chain he’s always worn since he Longbottom-ed — he clearly knows the effect it has. “So you’re joining us for the rest of the cruise?” When your eyes meet his again, his lips curl into a smirk. 

“Yes,” he nods. “I’ll be here.”

Noticing Thalia glancing between you both, you realise you ought to stop whatever weirdness is going on right now before she thinks there’s something between you, not that she won’t ask you herself anyway. 

“Well that’s great,” you smile, taking a step closer to Thalia’s side.

“Mhm, I’m looking forward to spending time with you,” he says.

Your response is on the top of your tongue — “so am I” — and you intend to say it with a flutter of your lashes, but before you can say anything, Thalia answers for you. 

“We all are,” she grins, hand winding around your waist where she squeezes with a light force when she says the next words. “Including Jungkook and Alex.”

For a second you’re confused but the mention of Jungkook sparks your memory and you remember everything that’s happened in the past few days.

Jungkook and you are dating — you realise now why Thalia interjected and she was right to do so, otherwise you might’ve made a silly mess by opening yourself up to flirting with Lawrence. 

“Oh, yes,” you answer, perking up. “Jungkook will definitely be happy to see you I’m sure, it’s been a while since we all met last.”

“Yeah?” Lawrence casually responds. 

“Of course,” Thalia says with a wiggle of her brows. “Y/N is his girlfriend, she would know of course.”

As you smile dutifully, you catch the confusion briefly show on Lawrence’s face before he quickly disguises it as surprise. “You and Jungkook?” he says, lips turning into a smile. It’s the kind of smile that could mean many things. 

“Yep,” you nod, lips pursed in a smile. 

Something resembling a sigh leaves him. “You guys will have to catch me up on that for sure,” he says.

“There’ll be lots to catch you up on,” Thalia grins, “but right now, can we figure out how to get out of here?”

Lawrence chuckles, stepping to the side. “Of course, I know the way.” He gestures towards the left, waiting for you and Thalia to pass. 

As you fall into stride with Thalia on one side and Lawrence on the other side, you can’t help but feel some kind of disappointment at Lawrence’s reaction, though what did you expect? 

Of course he’s not going to say or do anything differently, and as long as you’ve agreed to be Jungkook’s girlfriend, you shouldn’t want him to react any differently. You’re lucky Thalia stepped in when she did or you might’ve completely forgotten you’re supposed to be in a relationship with someone else and would’ve ended up blowing the story for Jungkook entirely. 

“Ah, here we are!” Thalia skips forward out into the late evening night.

The view on the balcony now is even more beautiful with fairy lights adorning the trees along its perimeter. Everyone you recognise seems to be congregating towards one area as it’s almost time to leave to board the cruise ship again. 

“Oh there you are.” Jungkook appears from the middle of the crowd, not seeming to have noticed Lawrence who’s more closely following Thalia. “We’re leaving soon, here.” He hands you your purse you left with him a while earlier. 

“Thanks,” you answer, taking it and checking you haven’t left anything else. “Sorry, we got a bit lost inside.”

“Mhm, that’s fine, I was just about to come look for you anyway,” Jungkook says, looking at Thalia and only then does he notice Lawrence. The lines expressing concern in his face deepen into confusion.

Seeing this change, Lawrence smiles. “Hey mate.”

In a split second Jungkook’s confused frown changes to a smile. “Lawrence!” Reaching forward, the two share a pleasant exchange. 

“It’s been a while, how’ve you been?”

“Not bad, yourself?”

Jungkook nods. “I’ve been alright.”

“Better than alright from what I hear,” Lawrence says, brow raising as he glances in your direction. 

Jungkook’s gaze follows and you smile with a little shrug, subtly nodding at Jungkook.

“Ah.” Jungkook chuckles, taking a step towards your side. “Well, yeah, better than alright,” he confirms with a very believable smile. 

Lawrence laughs, looking between you. From behind him, you catch Thalia standing beside Alex as they watch the interaction play out. 

“I think it’s amazing,” Lawrence says, patting Jungkook’s arm. “You two are great together.”

“You’ve only just seen us again,” you say with a smile. 

“Hm, I’ve seen it for years,” Lawrence replies with a nod of his head and a small sigh as he looks at you. He’s still smiling but when you look at him, the brightness in his eyes has faded. “Trust me,” he says quieter than before, “I was always watching.”

Pursing your lips, you smile but you still feel self conscious as his gaze on you doesn’t budge. “That sounds a little stalker-ish, Lawrence,” you chuckle. 

Laughing, he shrugs. “Might’ve been. I always was a bit of a recluse.”

“I wouldn’t say you were a recluse.”

He arches his brow, lips morphing into a cocky smile. “Then what would you say I was?”

Mirroring his expression, you scoff. “What d’you want me to say, huh? Tall, handsome and mysterious?”

“Took the words right from my mouth,” he says smugly. 

“Ha,” you laugh. Despite it being somewhat true, you respond to say otherwise. “You wish.”

Lawrence smiles. “Ah, I guess those words are reserved for this one, huh?” He nods towards Jungkook. 

“Hm…” you look towards Jungkook who smiles with his lips pursed. It’s not his usual full smile and behind it there seems to be a reservation that tells you he’s being more quiet than usual. Nudging him gently, you beam when he meets your eyes. “Nah, I’ve got better words for this one.”

He nods and chuckles quietly but only briefly. 

You wonder what’s caused the shift in his mood since he seemed so bright only a moment ago when greeting Lawrence. 

“Oh, you’ll have to tell me all about it, I’m interested to hear how things happened between you,” Lawrence says.

Humming quietly, you nod as your attention remains on Jungkook. “Some other time, I think we need to get moving now,” you say, nodding towards the crowd of moving guests ahead of you. 

“Ah, yes,” he answers, turning to look behind him. “I’ll see you around though, yeah?” He places his hand on your arm. 

You don’t pay much attention to it but feel Jungkook pull on your hand gently. 

“Yeah man, we’ll see you around,” he says, reaching to pat Lawrence’s arm. 

Lawrence nods, throwing you a smile before he turns and joins the rest of your party. 

As he walks away, Jungkook turns to you. “Shall we go too?”

You nod, allowing him to lead the way, hand still in yours. There’s a hum of conversation around you as everyone makes their way back towards the cars to take you to the port, but you’re grateful no one interrupts the two of you as you walk alone, a little behind the rest. 

“You okay?” you ask after a quiet moment. 

Jungkook answers almost right away. “Yeah. You?”

“Mhm.” You watch him as he kicks some of the sand beneath his feet with every step. “You sure though?”

He turns to look at you, a smile on his lips though his brows furrow a little in the middle. “Yeah, why?”

“Just,” you shrug. “I thought you seemed a bit quiet back there with Lawrence.”

Jungkook turns away and shrugs. “I’m all good, no reason not to be.” 

It’s not exactly convincing to you, but you take his word for it. If it’s something he wants to tell you, he’ll tell you in his own time if he wants to. Or, it’s actually just nothing and you’re overthinking this for no reason. After all, there is no explanation that you can think of for Jungkook to be upset with Lawrence, especially when he was so happy to see him just now. Yes, you’re just overthinking it. 

“Y/N, Jungkook, please be on time for breakfast tomorrow and not an hour late like last time,” your mother scolds airily as she waves her hand behind her. 

“Yes, mom,” you smile as she turns into her cabin. 

“Will do,” Jungkook nods, raising a hand to say good night to your parents. 

Once their door is closed, Jungkook continues to walk with you towards your cabin. 

“You better wake up earlier this time,” you yawn, pulling out your key card. 

Jungkook scoffs, coming to a stop next to your door. “Me?!” He rests his hand against the door frame, leaning closer. “You’re the one who was still sleeping when I came down.”

Smiling, you shake your head. “You have no proof.”

He matches your smile, cocking his head. “Alright, I’m recording you tomorrow morning, don’t get mad at me when I get your bed head and dried dribble face on camera.”

“Hey,” you pout, leaning against the door frame. “I don’t dribble.”

Jungkook shrugs, smiling. ”Tomorrow I’ll have proof.”

You narrow your eyes at him, internally vowing to wake up early so you can be ready before he comes to you. “There’s no—“

“Oh, Jungkook, Y/N!” 

The sickeningly sweet cotton candy voice has your smile faltering. Jungkook winces, his face hidden from Valentina as she approaches from behind you. 

Slowly, you turn around to face her.

“Well isn’t this just perfect,” she beams, coming to stop beside you both. “We’re neighbours here!” 

Chuckling, you nod your head. “That really is perfect.” 

Valentine smiles again, glancing between the two of you before shrugging. “Well,” she sighs, opening her purse to look for her key card. “Don’t mind me, I was just grabbing a few things. You two enjoy your night.” She waves airily but doesn’t move. 

“Mhm, you too,” you nod. 

As she pulls out her key card, she’s just about to walk away before she pauses to focus on Jungkook and a delicate frown appears on her face. 

Glancing at him, you’re not surprised to see she’s frowning. Jungkook hasn’t said a word and he looks rather pained right now.

“Jungkook, are you okay?” She tilts her head. “You look a little…” She steps closer, frown deepening as she moves until all of a sudden she stops. “Oh.” Her eyes widen, an apologetic pout appearing on her face. “I see, was I interrupting something?” She asks, pointing between you both. 

For a second you’re confused — yes, she interrupted your conversation with Jungkook and she knows that already — but then you remember that you’re supposed to be in a romantic relationship with Jungkook, and the expression on Valentina's face tells you she thinks she’s interrupted something else. 

Jungkook is obviously just as confused. “Huh?”

“You’re both going to bed now, are you not?”

He frowns. “Uh, yeah…”

“Yes, I thought so. Apologies then…” She glances down towards Jungkook’s crotch as the words that follow imply it — “oh, sorry, I must’ve put that fire out.”

A strangled noise escapes Jungkook’s throat and he looks relatively mortified. “What?— no!” He takes a step closer to your side while you somehow pull him closer to your side protectively in an attempt to hide him from her. 

Valentina doesn’t respond to the expressions on neither of your faces and only sighs disappointedly, flipping her hair behind her shoulder. “I remember there was a time when I was the one to ignite the fire in your loins.”

The same strangled noise comes from Jungkook and you have to stop from bursting out into laughter. 

“Val,” Jungkook says, “were you not going somewhere?”

“Oh, yes.” She perks up, smiling brightly again. “Well you two lovebirds go ahead.” 

Just when you expect her to walk away, she doesn’t. In fact she stands there waiting for Jungkook and you to go into what she thinks is your shared cabin. 

“We will,” Jungkook says with the fakest smile you’ve seen on him.

Valentina only nods, still waiting.

Jungkook is about to say something again but you know there’s no point. Unlocking your door, you pull him into your room with you. “Bye, Val.”

“Good night,” you hear her respond as the door closes shut. 

Turning around to face Jungkook, you look at him with an expression crossed between shock and amusement. “Oh my God, how did you ever date her?!”

Jungkook groans, collapsing face down onto the end of your bed. “I swear she isn’t that bad, she’s doing it on purpose,” he says, muffled into the sheets.

Humming, you sit at the end of your bed beside him. “I guess so.” You lie down so you’re level with him.

Lying beside him, it’s quiet for a moment as you replay the exchange in your head. “So, she must’ve really been something if she was igniting the fire in your loins.” You can’t help but snort after saying it and Jungkook laughs beside you too, head still buried. 

Now that Valentina isn’t here, you allow yourself to laugh at it and you’re glad Jungkook does too. By the time you’re done laughing at it, you’re wiping away tears.

Lifting his head, he shakes his head. “This isn’t gonna be easy,” he says. 

“Yeah, she really doesn’t make it easy,” you respond quietly. 

Both of you fall silent for a moment again, listening carefully to see if you can hear her footsteps. 

“I can’t hear her anymore,” Jungkook says.

“Me neither.” You turn to look at him. 

He props himself up on his elbows. “So what now?”

“Well, we could wait till she goes away and then you sneak out,” you think aloud. “But how are we gonna do that every night?”

Jungkook nods, understanding. “So I should just stay?”

“I’m cool with it if you are,” you shrug.

For a moment, Jungkook doesn’t say anything, then he looks at you with a soft frown creasing his forehead. “Are you sure?”

“Totally sure,” you nod, rolling onto your side to lean on your elbow. “Besides, it’s not like we’ve made things easy for ourselves,” you add with a laugh. 

The lines seem to have disappeared from Jungkook’s face but when your eyes search for some kind of clue to his feelings, you find something you can’t decipher hiding behind the brown of his eyes. 

He smiles, releasing a soft breath as he does so, and only now do you realise how close your face is to his. 

“Promise me you’ll tell me if you feel uncomfortable?” he says. 

Nodding, you lift your pinky finger. 

He raises his own hand and closes his own pinky finger around yours. 

“I will,” you promise him.

His smile grows and oddly, you feel your heart do a little flutter in your chest as a warm feeling spreads through you. You’re suddenly reminded of how you felt earlier on in the evening as you lay on the balcony with Jungkook… has he always made you feel this way? Before you can let yourself think about it, Jungkook is leaping off the bed and with him, the feeling disappears. 

“So, I don’t plan on having your mum tell me off tomorrow morning so I’m going to sleep.” He turns to look at you, placing his hand on his hips.  “Slight problem though, my clothes are in my cabin.” 

“Then go get them, duh,” you answer.

“What if Valentina is still outside?” he says, pointing to the door. “It’s only been a few minutes, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s trying to eavesdrop on us right now.”

“Hmm…” you can’t deny he has a point. “Well I guess,” you say, dropping your voice to a whisper, “you won’t know until you try.”

“Alright,” Jungkook sighs, grabbing his phone from the bed. 

You follow him to the door and you’re actually almost surprised when he opens it to reveal no one is there. Jungkook turns to look at you sporting a similar expression on his face and shrugs before stepping out. 

“I guess that makes things easier for us—“

You’re interrupted mid-sentence as Jungkook immediately turns back into the room with a slightly panicked expression, barging into you. 

“Jungkook!” Losing your balance, you feel yourself falling backwards with Jungkook stumbling forward. Your ass hits the floor first and you just manage to bring your arms behind you in time but your head still hits the carpeted floor behind you, and Jungkook who seems to fall in slow motion with you, eventually lands on top of you. 

“Oh I’m sorry,” he mumbles, pushing himself up onto his forearms.

“That really hurt,” you groan, squirming on the floor. You’re grateful the floor is carpeted but both your head and ass still hurt. 

Jungkook looks down at you with concern replacing any previous features. “Where?” 

Rubbing the back of your head, you frown at him. “Everywhere. Why’d you turn back?”

“She’s right there!” Jungkook suddenly whispers instead. “She was practically having sex against the wall with some guy.”

Still recovering from your fall, you look at him confused. “What?”

Jungkook grimaces. “She was outside her room with some guy.”

“But we just saw her!” you respond in a hushed whisper. 

“I know! He must’ve been close by and they were making out like their lives depended on—” 

“Well, this is interesting.”

Rolling your eyes at the sound of her voice, you let your head drop back onto the floor while Jungkook scrambles to move off of you. Moving beside you, he reveals Valentina standing at the door, her lipstick smudged and her hair a bit messier than it was a little while earlier.

She narrows her eyes, placing her hands on her hips. “Foreplay on the floor is new to me, and leaving the door open…” She looks directly at Jungkook. “I didn’t know you were into voyeurism.”

Jungkook visibly freaks out, getting up and pulling you with him. “No, gosh, it was an accident.”

Valentina frowns. “I don’t judge, Jungkook,” she says matter-of-factly.

“I wouldn’t care if you did,” he replies almost exasperatedly. “But this was just an accident, we fell over.”

“Hm, okay,” she says with a shrug as she glances at the bed. 

You know she doesn’t believe him but really there’s nothing else you can say to make her think otherwise. Besides, you don’t really care what she thinks while your head still hurts. 

“Well, anyway, I’ve got to go.” She looks back at you with a smirk. “How about we both do our best to keep it down tonight, hm?” she winks before turning and fluttering her fingers. “Ta-ta angels, see you in the morning!”

As soon as she’s disappeared from view, you go shut the door behind her, leaning against the wood. 

“Okay, she is so doing it on purpose.”

“I know,” Jungkook agrees almost immediately. “I don’t get why though.”

“I know why,” you say, raising your brows. “She probably still isn’t over you.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “If anything, she’s just not used to people moving on from her. Her exes were always all over her when we were together.”

“So she expects you to go crawling back to her?”

“Pretty much,” he shrugs. “She’s really not helping herself though. Maybe I should talk to her, tell her to just give me space…” He looks at you, raising his brow in question.

“You could, but I reckon she’ll just act innocent and pretend she has no clue what you’re talking about.”

“True,” Jungkook sighs.

“Look, it’s fine,” you say, walking over to the drawer. “It’s just Val, nothing we haven’t dealt with before.” Throwing a set of satin pyjamas on the bed, you turn around to face him again. “Besides, I’m tired now, my head hurts and I’d like to sleep.”

The frown on Jungkook’s face doesn’t disappear. “It still hurts?” he asks, coming over to you. 

“Yeah, you knocked me over pretty hard, my ass hurts too,” you pout.

Jungkook chuckles, hands coming to rest on your shoulders and he squeezes gently. “Want me to massage it?” he jokes.

“Ooh, good idea. Let’s leave the door open too,” you laugh.

Jungkook smiles, still giving you a shoulder massage and you feel yourself letting go slowly. 

“Mm,” you hum softly, head relaxing. Jungkook steps closer and you let your forehead rest against his chest.

You don’t realise as Jungkook’s hands stop working and gently make their way around your waist, holding you up as you get lost in the warmth of his embrace.

“Should we go to bed before you fall asleep here?” Jungkook says after a moment. 

Pulling away from him, you smile with tired eyes. “Dibs on the bathroom first.”

Jungkook obliges and sits down on your bed while you go first. When it’s his turn, he goes quickly since he has the most minimal night time routine, one of which you’ve always been envious of. 

You’re just finishing brushing your hair when he’s coming out.

“What time is it?” he asks, stepping out as he dries his face. 

“Almost two,” you respond, getting up to walk over to your pyjamas on the bed. 

Jungkook turns around without being told, facing the opposite direction. “D’you think I could go get my clothes from upstairs now?”

You pull on your pyjama bottoms. “Probably not. I don’t think I have anything that would fit you either.”

“What do I do then?” Jungkook asks, his confused tone making you laugh.

“Don’t act like you don’t sleep naked half the time, Jeon.”

“Well when I’m alone, yeah. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable,” he says.

“I’m not, don’t worry.” You clamber into bed, pulling the sheets up to your shoulders as you get comfortable. “Just get into bed.”

Still facing away from you, Jungkook shrugs before pulling off his top. You don’t realise you’re staring at him strip until he starts pulling down his pants.

Abruptly, you pull the covers up even higher so you can’t see him. You hear him shuffling and then he stops but you can’t feel him getting into bed.

“Really?” he says. “My abs offend you that much?”

You can’t help but laugh, still keeping your eyes closed as you move the sheets down but place your hand in front of your eyes instead.  “Actually, they make for pretty good eye candy.”

Jungkook gasps scandalously, still shuffling about the room. “Have you been checking me out, Y/N?”

Cocking your head, you smile. “Now what kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t appreciate you and your God given looks, hm?”

“A terrible one.”

“Exactly.”

“So why are you covering your eyes?” he asks, his voice growing louder as you feel the covers move beside you. 

“Because there’s another friend of yours that I don’t think I should be seeing as your best friend,” you say, ignoring the way you feel your cheeks go warm when you say it, and especially the way Jungkook’s deep chuckle sounds as you notice the bed dip beside you.

“He’s covered,” he says quietly.

“Not enough.”

Jungkook laughs again and this time you can feel his body beside yours. “That friend is hidden safe and sound, Y/N. You can look now.”

Peeking your eyes open slowly, you see Jungkook right beside you in bed. He’s sitting up, smiling down at you with his abs eye level to you. You’ve seen Jungkook topless before plenty of times, but being this close and being in bed with him is new to you. You’re sure it’s the reason you feel your heart rate rising. 

“Good,” you say, turning away. “Now hide the eye candy please. It’s bedtime, I’ve brushed my teeth and I’m not trying to get a cavity.”

Jungkook laughs, sliding down further into the bed to cover himself up to his shoulders. 

“They’re that sweet, huh?”

“I’d be disappointed if they weren’t, all that time in the gym would just be a waste.”

“Now that’s true,” Jungkook says with a smile, shifting in the bed so he’s more comfortable.

You hum quietly, staying still as Jungkook moves. Only once he’s found his comfortable position, then you do the same, turning onto your belly facing him. 

Jungkook happens to be facing you too and he smiles sleepily as his eyes close. “Good night, Y/N.”

Your eyes remain open for a few seconds as you look at him a little longer. “Mhm, night Koo,” you whisper, smiling even though he can’t see you. 

He looks pretty when he sleeps. You take in every one of his features, unaware that there is still a smile on your face as you do so.

Catching you unaware, Jungkook winks an eye open. “What’re you looking at, hm?” he asks softly with a teasing lilt to his voice. 

You feel flustered, eyes going wide. “There’s something on your face,” you say quickly, brushing nothing off of his face. “Eyelash or something,” you mutter, subconsciously shifting away from him a little since the close proximity definitely isn’t helping. 

“Uh-huh,” he nods, hiding a smile. 

You’re not sure what it is about his smile that makes your heart skip a beat and your senses go fuzzy like they’ve done so more than once now because of Jungkook. It’s odd, he’s not doing anything different, yet you feel different. Mentally, you officially dub this The Jungkook Effect. 

There’s not much you can say to defend yourself so you press your eyes shut and fight back a smile yourself. “Well, anyway, good night.”

“You sure you wanna sleep?” Jungkook teases. 

“Oh shut up,” you say with a laugh, you pull one of the pillows out from behind your head and place it in the small space between your torsos. 

Jungkook lifts his own head off his pillow and looks down at it with an amused smile. “Is this really necessary?”

Lifting your own head and resting on your palm, you arch your brow at him. “I’ve read enough books to know what happens when two people who aren’t dating share a bed.”

Jungkook mirrors your expression and dares to move an inch closer. “And what’s that?”

Smiling like the little know it all you are, you answer, “They wake up in the morning with someone’s cute ass, which would be mine in this case, conveniently pushed up against someone’s dick.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue and the smirk on his lips is clear as day. “Ah, which would be mine,” he says, briefly looking down. His lips look wet when he says it and for some reason you find yourself wanting this conversation to continue on the same wavelength it is right now… but it’s also at this moment you realise you’re lying in bed and practically flirting with your best friend.

“Exactly,” you say, letting out a small breath as you fall back into your pillow, looking up to the ceiling.

Pursing his lips, Jungkook hides a smile. “Well I guess we definitely don’t want that to happen.”

You stifle a laugh as you lightly whack him with the pillow between you before putting it back in its place. “Shut it, Jeon.” 

He chuckles, falling back into his pillow. “Just kidding,” he murmurs, sliding further beneath the covers and getting comfortable. “Good night, Y/N.”

With a tired smile, you hum. “Good night, Koo.”

The stops at St Tropez and Nice both pass as quickly as the first few cities in Spain and before you know it, you’ve visited all the cities scheduled for France too. The stop in Barcelona has been your favourite so far though — the resort the Diamindis’ booked for the families on the cruise most definitely did not disappoint and the riding you got to do was just a big bonus, especially watching Alias struggling with his mare. 

The whole Jungkook situation has been pretty easy to navigate too. Now that the important people in your life know it’s not real, it makes it easier and Jungkook and you only need to behave as you normally do so you’re both happy. On top of that, you’ve noted that you haven’t had any more experiences with the Jungkook effect, though you’re not sure you can say that pleases you. 

It’s also been a while since you’ve hung out with Lawrence. He seemed to stay close in the first few days but you figured it must be his parents encouraging him to socialise with some of the other families since he’s not at home much. This became true enough when you saw him stuck at a table in some fancy restaurant in Nice with the Maddison’s. 

Although you did hope to get to spend some more time with Lawrence, at least for old times sake, you can’t say you care much, especially since Sophia has finally joined you. 

“Why don’t we go to the pool?” you say, raising your brows at Sophia. It’s almost midnight but you’re still lounging on a quieter deck with Jungkook and Alias. Since it’s a sea day tomorrow, you don’t need to be up early and it seems like it’ll be more fun than the last time now that Sophia is here too.

She perks up at that, turning towards you. “It’s closed right?”

“Yep, but that just makes it better,” you smile, ignoring Jungkook and Alias scoffing at your change in opinion — last time you were adamant that you should be following the rules. 

“Okay, let’s do it.” She looks at Jungkook and Alias. “You guys joining us?”

“Sure,” Alias hops up. “It’ll be fun to see Y/N break the rules,” he grins at you.

Sassing him, you get up too. “This time I’m pushing you in.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Alias tenses, flexing his biceps. “I’m 73 kilos of this,” he nods.

It’s no secret that Alias has an impressive figure, but unwilling to cave, you just roll your eyes and playfully swat his arm. “Whatever.”

“Alright, let’s meet at the top deck pool in ten minutes?” Jungkook says hopping up from the lounge. 

“Make that fifteen,” Sophia says. “I don’t know where I put all my swimsuits.”

Agreeing, you all head towards the upper decks, only splitting up to go towards your respective corridors to your cabins. Sophia and Alias go right towards the corridor where their family cabins are situated, while Jungkook and you still need to walk a little further to get back to your shared cabin.

Surprisingly, it’s been easy to share a cabin with Jungkook. Most days you come back from whatever activity you had that day and knock out easily since you’re so tired. On top of that, your pillow idea seems to be working perfectly and you haven’t experienced any awkward or uncomfortable moments. There have, however, been a few times you’ve mistaken the pillow for Jungkook and in the split second it takes you to realise it’s only the pillow, you can swear your heart skips a beat and your pulse races. The disappointment that follows is something you can’t seem to explain to yourself. 

“So Sophia comes and all of a sudden you’re Little Miss Daredevil, huh?” Jungkook says, as you walk together. 

You glance at him and note how handsome he looks today. After spending some time in the sea while in Nice, his dark locks are curled and framing his face perfectly. He walks with his hands in his short pockets and the linen material of his shirt blows in the evening air giving the occasional glimpse of his lean figure. It occurs to you that this is going to be coming off in a short while when you go to the pool—

Oop. You pause your thoughts, realising that the little flutter you just felt down south was definitely due to picturing your best friend topless. A part of you feels guilty wondering if Jungkook would be embarrassed, but you also know that Jungkook knows what you think of his physique. You pretty much said it all the other night and he’s caught you looking plenty of times before that, even making jokes about it when you did.

“She brings out that side of me,” you sigh, smiling as you descend the steps that lead towards your corridor.

“Alias and I aren’t good enough for you, huh?”

“Don’t take it personally,” you joke, and Jungkook just laughs quietly so he doesn’t wake up anyone as you walk past some cabins. 

Once back at your own, you quickly change into a bathing suit and throw on a hoodie and shorts so in case any staff see you, they don’t suspect you’re planning on going to the pool.

Alias is already waiting at the top deck and you can also see he’s brought some drinks along with him. He’s chosen not to cover up and is revealing his washboard abs for the whole world to see, and let’s not forget those killer thighs of his. 

“Beat you here,” he says without even thinking.

“Who was counting?” Jungkook says, bumping shoulders with him on purpose. 

“I was,” Alias responds, and quickly the two resort to their childish antics as Jungkook pulls him into a headlock. You choose to sit and watch, dipping your toes in the pool as you throw your hoodie to the side. 

“Guys, shut up, we can hear you from a mile away,” you hear Sophia’s voice from behind you as she climbs the steps to your deck. 

Jungkook and Alias stop mid-wrestle and you get up to pull your shorts off. 

“Huh?” Alias frowns, pulling himself free from Jungkook. “We?”

Once Sophia is standing on the deck, you see someone else coming up behind her. 

Lawrence. 

Sophia steps to the side as he steps up. “Yeah, we,” she repeats. 

“Hey guys,” Lawrence says with a harmless smile, glancing across at you all.

“Hey,” you smile back.

“Oh, hey man,” Alias waves. 

Jungkook smiles too with a nod of his head. 

“I saw Lawrence on the way so I thought I’d ask him to join us,” Sophia explains as she too pulls off an oversized hoodie. 

“I hope that’s alright,” Lawrence chuckles awkwardly.

“The more the merrier,” Alias says with a shrug. “So,” he looks at you, “who are we pushing in first?”

“You,” you smile. 

Alias spreads his arms, inviting you. “I’d love to see you try, babe.”

Glancing to his right, you subtly raise your brow at Jungkook who smiles back at you. In a split second, Alias is being lifted from the ground and tossed into the pool. 

Sophia and you jump into the pool right after, surfacing close to Alias.

“I thought we were friends,” he laughs at Jungkook splashing water towards him. “Gosh, I forgot how whipped you are.” 

Jungkook just laughs and shrugs. “Sorry, man,” is all he says.

“You getting in?” Sophia asks Lawrence as she joins you next to the pool, dipping your toes first. 

He nods. “I guess.” He glances around looking at the empty surroundings. This top deck is pretty big considering it’s wholly private.

“What?” Alias holds out his arms. “We’re not good enough for you?” he jokes. 

“Of course you are,” Lawrence says before he shrugs, lips curving into a smile. “I just think with all this space, we could do something more.”

“Oh.” Sophia raises her brows, intrigued. “Like what?”

She speaks for all of you as you all look at him.

“I risk sounding like a five year old,” he says with a small laugh, “but how about hide and seek.” He looks around again. “We’re on a ship, we’ve got plenty of hiding spaces.”

The rest of you glance at each other and it’s clear that you’re all in agreement.

Alias jumps out of the pool. “Alright, but it’s hide and seek chase.” He grabs a towel and dries himself off. “I’m it first,” he adds with a devilish smile.

“Even better,” Lawrence says, pleased that everyone is on board. “Are we splitting up or staying together?”

“I’ll go with Y/N,” Jungkook says, approaching your side as you get up from the side of the pool. The air is chilly to your wet skin but you quickly warm up as Jungkook helps you pat dry.

“I’ll stay with Lawrence,” Sophia says, walking over to his side.

“Alright let’s stick to the top two decks when hiding, but if I’m chasing you, we can go anywhere,” Alias says, pulling on a linen tee.

“Where’s the base?” you ask, covering yourself up too. 

“Here?” Sophia proposes.

“Or only inside the pool,” Jungkook adds to the suggestion with a shrug.

Lawrence nods in agreement, as do the rest of you.

“Alright,” Alias smirks. “Ready?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before starting to count down, “one hundred, ninety nine, ninety eight…”

The rest of you bolt immediately knowing that 100 seconds with Alias will only be 50, if that.

Sophia doesn’t even wait for Lawrence’s confirmation before running in the direction she came from but he follows her anyway.

With a tight hold on your hand, Jungkook pulls you in the opposite direction, already running faster than you can keep up with. 

“Slow down,” you laugh, squeezing his hand.

“C’mon,” he says without turning back and without slowing down. “We gotta get away first, he’s only gonna count to ten.”

Just as you suspected, even with the distance that’s been put between you already, you can hear Alias yell out for you all to hear.

“Ready or not, here I come.”

You’re just grateful there’s no cabins near here. 

It feels like you’re running for a mile, starting outside before Jungkook takes you through a door and down multiple corridors and even two smaller staircases you had no idea existed. He’s slower now which comes and a relief to you, but you’re still panting from all the sprinting.

“Koo, where the hell are we going?” you ask, tugging on his hand to make him stop.minutes, you find yourself on a part of the ship you’ve never been to before.

“You’re lost, aren’t you?” you say, not really caring about being lost because you’re just glad Jungkook stopped running.

“No, I’ve been here before.” Judging by the way he’s walking, it does seem like he knows where he’s going. “We’re near our cabin.” 

“Really?” You look around, frowning at your surroundings. “I don’t recognise it.”

“Yep,” Jungkook takes your hand as he taps his pass on a door to go down a corridor which you still don’t recognise but from the smell, seems to be near the kitchen. 

“Wait, Jungkook…” you pause, looking back at a small sign above where Jungkook tapped his card. Staff only. “How?” you ask in bewilderment.

Jungkook just pulls you forward with a smug look on his face “Alias gave it to me. He got one for himself and Alex too.”

Of course he did. “He’s trying to get us kicked off, I swear.”

“It’s just for a little fun,” Jungkook grins. “Besides, this way, we can win the game.”

“Yeah, except Alias can get in here too then.”

Coming to a split in the corridor, Jungkook stops. “Oh yeah,” he mumbles. “Well, 

“Hey!”

Jungkook and you both turn on the spot to the sound of a voice from ahead of you. It’s a member of staff, the same one from the night Alias and Jungkook jumped in the pool. He seemed pretty mad at the time and seeing his expression now as he starts walking towards you, he seems the same. You don’t blame him, he was chasing you guys for the better part of ten minutes.

“Run?” Jungkook whispers, his fingers clasping yours tightly.

“Run,” you nod.

Before you know it, your legs are moving as Jungkook leads you down the closest corridor.

“Hey! Stop!” 

You almost feel bad about running away, but at the same time, you know that the guy is only trying to stop you to feed whatever power trip he’s on, so you keep running as fast as you can to try to keep up with Jungkook.

“Do you know where you’re going?” you huff, looking over your shoulder.

The guy is right behind you. 

“No,” Jungkook laughs, slowing down as he sees a corridor to his right. 

“Keep going,” you laugh too, pulling him down the corridor before the guy can catch up. 

“Oi, I said stop!” he yells.

“What d’you think, Y/N?” Jungkook asks, though he shows no sign of stopping. “Should we listen to him?”

“Never,” you respond, glancing back again. He seems to be slowing down but you don’t stop yet. This time, you take the lead and go down a smaller corridor which you realise leads to a staircase.

“Up,” Jungkook ushers you, letting you go first. Luckily it;s a short one and Jungkook comes up close behind you.

“Left or right?” you ask, glancing down the corridor. The left leads to a door which heads outside, the right leads to a door which seems to hide a dimly lit corridor.

Jungkook takes your hand again, going left. As he pushes the door open, you hear the guy is still coming close behind you. “Stop,” he yells.

You’re honestly surprised he’s still chasing you but you’re also tired now and really just want to stop. “Koo, I think I have asthma,” you breathe out, feeling your steps slow down.

Jungkoook chuckles, looking back at you. “Y/N, we’ve been through this before, you don’t have asthma.”

You would pout because you know he’s righ and you still want to stop but you also don’t want that guy to catch up to you. 

Still, Jungkook glances around while jogging as though he’s looking for something. “Ah, there!”

You’re too tired to ask what, only letting Jungkook lead you across the deck to a door which takes you back inside. As you enter, you see the staff still coming behind you. Gosh, he’s bothered. After only a few yards, Jungkook uses the staff pass to open a door on your right. Inside is a small room with a few shelves lining the walls and one big one in the middle; it’s full of rescue equipment.

“What the hell, Koo?” you laugh, letting him take you inside as he closes the door quickly. 

He takes you to hide behind the biggest shelf in the middle of the room. With your back pressed against it, he stands close in front of you so he can still see the door.

When you look up at him, you see a massive grin on his face and that mischievous gleam in his eyes that you love.

“You’re crazy,” you murmur, restraining a laugh.

“Shh,” he whispers, placing his hand beside your head as he takes the smallest step closer, one that’s enough for you to feel the warmth of his breathing as his chest rises and falls so close to you. 

The sensation makes you fall quiet anyway and you’re sure that even if you did speak, no one from outside would be able to hear you, but you’re rather enjoying the feeling of having him this close to you. The smell of his perfume – your favourite – fills you with every heavy inhale as you catch your breath too, and suddenly, you find this feeling familiar.

That damned Jungkook effect. 

Since you’re stuck here hiding for a few moments, you can do nothing but just embrace it as it comes. Apparently you’re embracing it a little too much as you don’t realise your eyes close and your head slowly moves closer to his chest. It just feels so good being this close to him – feeling his warmth, smelling him… his body is so close to yours, you wonder what would happen if you just took another step forward and–

“You okay there?” Jungkook’s voice comes out low with a humorous lilt.

‘“Hm?” Your eyes go wide as you realise your head was resting on his chest. “Sorry,” you mumble, suddenly feeling your cheeks go warm. “I’m tired, it’s late.”

“Mhm, that’s okay.”

Looking up, you see the mischievous gleam in his eyes has changed to something playful. 

“You can use me as a pillow anytime,” he adds with a wink.

Scoffing, you poke him in the chest. “Well I gotta put these pecs to use somehow.”

He laughs quietly before poking his head out to the side. “Come on, I think he’s gone and we’ve got a game to get back to.”

You follow him to the door and find the corridor empty, thankfully. “Alias has probably already found the other guys.”

“That would make us the winners.”

“Mm, I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to get back to base first.”

“Oh, yeah.” Jungkook pauses, looking around. “Where is the base from here?”

“Um…” Stopping beside him, you look around too. It’s hard to tell when it’s dark but there’s some parts of the deck which look familiar to you. “I think we keep going forward.”

“Actually, I think we’ve passed the way up.”

“What?” you frown, looking up confused. 

“Well the pool was at one of the top decks and there’s one way up which we missed, no?”

“I don’t think so.”

Jungkook looks down at you, his brows raised. “Really?”

“Really,” you say, taking his hand to tug him along, except he doesn’t move. When you look back at him, you see he’s got his brows raised with a smile, one that only spells a challenge. 

“Oh, c’mon, Koo,” you sigh. 

He shrugs before swinging your hand. “Let’s see who gets there first then,” he says in a sing-songy voice.

“Fine,” you shrug, already turning away from him. “Just be careful Alias doesn’t get you on your way.”

“I’ll be fine, just look out for yourself,” he responds as he already starts skipping back the other way. 

Shaking your head, you turn back to look at your surroundings. You’re sure there’s a small staircase somewhere near here that you’re supposed to go up which should be close to the pool. It’s when you’re glancing around now that you realise it’s actually quite scary being alone on an empty deck late at night with no company but the sea.

Taking a few steps back, you look down the way you came to see if Jungkook might still be there but of course he’s not – he’s probably running to make sure he gets back before you.

Sighing, you continue down the path that seems familiar to you, only to hear a small bang from somewhere in front of you. Immediately, you’re relieved to see Lawrence coming around the corner ahead of you.

He smiles when he sees you. “Hey,” he says, voice hushed. 

“Hey,” you answer, looking behind him. “Was that bang you?”

He looks back, confused for a split second before he nods. “Oh, yeah, I just jumped down the last few steps when I was coming down.”

“Right. Where’s Alias and Sophia?”

“Well Alias tried to get me just a little while ago but I lost him,” he says, looking proud of himself before he frowns. “Where’s Jungkook?”

“We split up,” you answer with a smug smile. “He thinks the base is back this way.” You point in the direction that he went in. “But I know it’s this way.” You point in the opposite direction.

Lawrence chuckles, looking at you somewhat endearingly though it goes unnoticed by you. “Uh, Y/N, it’s the other way.”

“Huh?” you frown, looking back. “Really?” 

“Yep,” he nods, hiding an amused smile. “I can show you the way if you like?”

Sighing in defeat, you agree to go with him. “It’s not like I have any chances of beating him now.”

“Ah,” Lawrence sighs as he falls into stride beside you. “Still got the competitive streak I see?”

“Me?” you laugh quietly, glancing at him.

“Mhm, you,” he says matter-of-factly, still sporting a smile.

Looking at him now, you note how relaxed and care-free he seems. You’re not sure whether it’s because his usually swept back hair is now falling freely, or if it’s because of the glow on his face from the light sheen of sweat from the humidity of the evening air. It’s nice to see him like this, even the smile is a difference – growing up he always seemed so mysterious and quiet which no doubt had to do with the pressure he faced as an only child and a big family name to live up to. 

“Well, it’s good you remember. I won’t be losing today either,” you say with a playful nudge.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he laughs. “If we bump into Alias, I’m ditching you fast.”

“I hope so, you’re dead weight to me.”

“Hey!” He nudges you back as he still laughs, loosely running his hand through his hair.

“Mm, remember when we were kids?” you say, suddenly reminiscing. “We used to do this stuff all the time.”

Lawrence nods. “I do,” he says with a smile. “There was one Christmas, we all went up to that chalet in… oh, where was it?” he frowns, looking at you. “Courchevel?”

“Hm…” You shake your head as it rings a bell. “I don’t think so, there was only one year we celebrated Christmas abroad all together and it wasn’t in France.”

“Switzerland?”

“Yes!” You say, pointing your finger at him as you suddenly remember the finer details of the trip.  “At St Moritz, we had that massive suite at Kempinski.”

“That's the one,” Lawrence says with a smile matching yours. “D’you remember those nights we would always want to go out but our parents never let us? So we used to run around hiding from them.”

“Mhm,” you nod. “I remember Leon and Helena would get so mad, even I was scared of them but their own kids never even cared.”

“My parents got mad too but we still did it every night,” Lawrence laughs, his walk slowing down as the two of you approach the bow. “I wonder how he were so brave,” he continues, “I bet it was Alias’s idea, all the fun stuff was always his idea.”

“Mm, actually, I think it was yours,” you say, tilting your head towards him. 

“Really?” Lawrence questions, brow raised as he walks closer to the ledge overlooking the tranquil evening sea though you can’t actually see much besides a distant glittering coastline. 

“Mhm, really,” you nod, coming to stand beside him.

Lawrence turns so he’s facing you, a thoughtful expression on his face but his lips are still curved in a smile as they have been this whole time. “I’m surprised you remember.”

You shrug. “I remember a lot of things.”

Lawrence opens his mouth as though to say something before closing it. 

“What?” you ask, turning to face him too. 

He shakes his head. “I was about to ask something but it’s probably gonna sound stupid.”

“Stupid questions are my favourite to answer,” you say with a smile. 

He arches a brow, his smile changing to something more timid. “D’you remember a lot about me or just everything in general?”

You laugh, not having expected that. Lawrence isn’t really the conceited type so you don’t think it’s coming from a place of vanity, and the shy hesitancy he says it with almost makes him seem cute — like he wants you to say him.

“Both I guess,” you answer honestly. 

He laughs too, one that reminds you of the days you spent daydreaming about him. It feels almost nostalgic, certainly not the same. If this was a few years ago you might’ve gotten butterflies from just hearing that laugh but now you only feel happy to see him letting his guard down and smiling which is a rare occurrence with him.

“Are you surprised?” you ask.

“Well, yeah,” he says, still with a shyness. “I thought I just went unnoticed in school.”

“Unnoticed? You were without a doubt one of the most popular guys in school.”

He shrugs. “Never felt like it.”

You scoff in amusement. “Yeah, because imagine being the one to receive almost 100 cards on Valentine’s Day every year, not to mention the endless notes in your lockers.”

“Ah,” Lawrence laughs softly. “Okay I see your point.” He glances towards you. “Never got one from you though.”

“I was too shy,” you say, trying to hide the truth a little with a tone of sarcasm. 

“Probably would’ve said yes if it was from you,” he says with a playful smirk.

“Thanks for telling me this late,“ you laugh. “But wait…” You look at him in amusement, having just processed some of what he’s said. “So you’re telling me you had no idea that I had a crush on you in school?!”

Confusion is the first and only emotion you manage to catch on Lawrence’s face, the rest passing in a second. “I had no idea!” he says, half laughing while still in what can only be surprise. “You liked me?” He looks at you and you notice a tinge of pink colouring his cheeks.

“For a long time,” you laugh. “Though I don’t know why, you never paid me much attention until college.”

Lawrence doesn’t skip a beat when answering. “I had to! I’m two years older than you, any attention I wanted to give you throughout school might’ve just caused problems and I didn’t want that for you.”

“Well, how thoughtful of you to not want me to be the subject of stupid rumours, meanwhile I was left to pine over you,” you say somewhat sarcastically but still humourful. “If only I knew that you were being so considerate…” only now do you realise exactly what it is that Lawrence has just said… “Hang on.” You pause, brows creasing as you turn to look at him. “You what?”

Lawrence suddenly hesitates, timidly. “I had a thing for you,” he mumbles after a few seconds.

“You did?”

“Mhm, for a while. It’s always been there… still is.”

Your head is reeling… you could’ve had Lawrence. You still could have Lawrence – he’s telling you as much – but…

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you ask softly, still dumbfounded.

“I wanted to,” he admits with a small smile, just about managing to look at you now. “Your first year of college, but you seemed so carefree and I didn’t wanna be the older guy tying you down. Even though it’s just one year, everyone has fun in first year so I wanted you to have that too.” He purses his lips before releasing a small breath as he looks away. 

“I wouldn’t have cared about that,” you say quietly with a laugh. 

To your relief, Lawrence laughs too, albeit awkwardly. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you shrug.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I tried again in my last year, your third.” He glances at you before shrugging. “I don’t think you cared for it though.”

It’s easy to remember what he’s talking about now — there’s no way you wouldn’t remember all the times Lawrence tried to shoot his shot with you, especially because you could never figure out why you denied it to him and yourself.

Lawrence continues in your moment of silence. “I always thought it was because of Jungkook.”

All the thoughts come to a standstill in your mind… 

“Now I know I was right,” Lawrence says with a wistful smile. 

Is this your answer? The reason you never wanted to pursue Lawrence even after having a crush on him for so long — because of Jungkook? 

It’s even crazier to you that right now, it doesn’t seem so bizarre. 

Jungkook has always felt right. Maybe you do care about him in more ways than you realised, maybe everything Lawrence is saying is true, and maybe everything Alex has been saying for months now is true. There’s obviously a reason you’ve started to feel differently around him, not to mention you’re always finding any and every excuse to be with him.

Lawrence continues, unaware of the thoughts unravelling in your head. “I just wish I’d had the courage to say something sooner, but it’s my fault.” He takes a step closer and the feeling of his hand brushing yours draws you back into this moment. 

Looking up, you meet his gaze to see soft eyes and furrowed brows. 

“Now it’s all out there though,” he says in a voice quiet enough to be a whisper, “I have to know…” 

His eyes search yours and he hesitates for a brief moment before you feel his fingers lace between yours. “It is too late, right?”

note. please interact with all parts and share your thoughts with me! <3 part 2 here

[mywritersmind]

NOT SO HAPPY HOLIDAYS - LN4

↳pt.3

christmas special

part one - part two

summary : He’s still annoying, just happens to have a charming face that softens the blow. While Y/n and Max continue their sibling rivalry, P plays matchmaker, and two idiots are left alone with a cheesy romance movie and a persistent ex.

og summary : Spending Christmas with my brothers best friend isn’t my ideal way to celebrate. With my parents in the maldives and my ex calling me non stop, I was hoping for a small town cozy christmas! I was going to get that with Max and his girlfriend until Lando Norris worked his way into the mix.

listen up : dual pov! brothers best friend! kissing😳 suggestive content. swearing. BANTERRRRR

words : 4158

⋆｡‧˚⋆

She doesn’t see me yet. I definitely see her.

She’s on her tippy toes that are covered in festive fluffy socks. My gaze drags up her legs to her ass, she’s got these nauseatingly tiny shorts on and a cropped baggy shirt to match.

Her arm is outstretched to try and get a mug but I can’t focus on anything but her. She’s biting her lip, a frustrated look on her face that’s making my mind think very inappropriate things. Her hair is messy and looking perfectly pullabl-

“Shit!” She reaches it, and promptly drops it, causing it to smash onto the tile.

Y/n drops to her knees, looking under the sink for something as her back arches, her head disappearing into the cabinet as I practically drool over her.

“Fucking hell.” I mumble, walking forward to help her and ignore my body’s reaction to hers. “Clumsy this early in the morning, huh sunshine?”

She glares at me, a tiny broom in her hand as she cleans up her mess.

“Let me help.” I go to reach for the broom but she pulls back, saying no and landing on her ass. My smile fades as I recognize the look on her face. “You alright?”

She crosses her legs, dropping the broom and shoving her face into her hands, “Yes.” It’s mumbled and clearly a lie.

I start cleaning up her mess, it’s not a lot and I don’t really know what else to do in her presence. I stand and dump the ceramic pieces in the trash, joining her on the floor again and poking her knee.

“Thanks.” She sounds stuffy, like she’s about to cry. She almost makes me feel bad for checking her out so much while she’s so sad.

“Talk to me, Sunny.” She sniffles and looks up at me. She's not crying but her eyes are red teary.

“I hate when you’re nice to me.” She pushes her hair back, her hands covered from her sleeves. I blink and she sighs, knowing that I want her to continue, “My ex.”

I don’t mean to groan but at least my dramatic act makes her laugh a bit, hitting my knee.

“He won’t stop calling. And I can’t block him because I work with the wanker!” She says exhausted, answering my question about the block button yesterday.

“Well at least he has one thing correct.” She raises a brow at my words, “He knows he lost someone good.”

Y/n shakes her head, “I hate him, Lando.” She breathes, “I hate him more than you.”

This makes me frown, sarcastically saying, “I’m flattered.”

She smiles a bit just as her phone dings again, she screams and puts her head back in her hands, “Y/n.” I say her name for the first time in a while, “Have you responded at all?”

She shakes her head, “I can’t.” She whispers it and I'm worried she actually wants him back. I never met him, but her instagram photos were enough for me to hate him.

I hear footsteps down the stairs, P coming around the corner humming, her smile slowly fading as she spots the two of us on the floor. “Good morning?”

I take Y/n’s hand and practically drag her upward, “Morning, P.” Y/n groans and leans against the counter, tearing her hand away from me and shoving her face into the tabletop now.

P points at Y/n, looking at me quizzically as I shake my head. She understands and skips over to the coffee machine, we sit in silence as P makes Y/n a hot chocolate.

Y/n smiles softly as P hugs her and hands her the hot chocolate. P continues to make her breakfast as I look at Y/n. She’s storing her drink and looking depressed.

It’s christmas! No time for sadness and sucky ex’s! I slide her the marshmallows as her wides widen a bit, smiling at me before dumping half the bag in.

My stomach does a weird thing at the way she looks at me… when Max joins us, I’m quickly distracted but still feel a tiny bit sick. “So! What are you two doing tonight while we’re out?”

Max asks as I scratch the back of my neck, “Um…”

“Movie night!” Y/n looks happier now, “Get ready Norris, welcome to the wonderful world of cheesy romances.”

⋆༺

you

Outside looks like a snowstorm yet we brave it for a quick brunch at a tiny diner that’s packed. I pull off my beanie, my hair a mess.

Lando unravels his scarf, laughing at me, “Looking good, Sunshine.” I stick my tongue out at him as Max ruffles my hair even more.

We sit and eat and for once, there’s no odd tension. I don’t yell at Lando and he doesn’t tease me. P and Max are squished together on the booth side while Lando’s arm is strewn around the back of my chair.

I let it slide because he looks like he’s in a food coma. His eyes are closed and he’s peacefully resting his head to the side.

Our comfortable silence turns to Lando and Max fighting over who’s paying while P and I wave at the baby sitting next to us.

Lando’s fingers wiggle next to my head, leaning in closer to see the baby. She giggles as Lando pokes my face and I give him an annoyed look.

The mom is looking at us so I smile and laugh a bit, “Sorry, she’s adorable.”

“Don’t be!” her hand pulls the cover back so we can see her more. Her little hands scrunch up and Lando and I make the same noise at the same time, “This is June. We call her sunny because- well it just fits her happy little personality!”

I feel Lando’s hand stop moving next to me as P and Max continue gushing over her. Lando clears his throat, “She looks like you.”

The mom smiles wider, “Thank you. You four are just adorable! Are you all here for christmas?”

Max nods, “I dragged my girlfriend and my best friend to have a quiet christmas.”

P smiles as Max squeezes her arm, “Which ultimately failed because these two never shut up.”

Lando laughs, “Like you’re one to talk! You and Y/n speak in a whole different language.” He goes back to playing peek-a-boo with the baby who just adores him.

“She likes you.” The mom says to Lando, “He’ll be good with kids.” She directs this at me which makes my breath cut out and Lando go into a fit of coughs.

Our waiter brings back our cards as P grabs her bag, “It was really nice meeting you. We have to run to the store for our new tradition!”

I raise a brow, “New tradition?”

Max is smiling like an idiot, “Gingerbread contests are back! Don’t be scared sis, just accept your loss now.”

⋆༺

Up until we were Ten and Eleven, Max and I made gingerbread houses every year. I'm not sure why we stopped, maybe because our parents hated how it always ended in tears because everything we did was a competition.

Max’s great idea was to start this up again. So we gathered the boxes and some extra supplies just to make a complete mess of the dining area while Sabrina Carpenter’s christmas music blasts and Max and I scream at each other.

We’ve made a sort of barrier right down the middle of the table. With my luck, Max picked his girlfriend to be on his team because there were only two houses left in the store.

So Lando and I are elbow deep in shitty frosting and tears of laughter. He wipes his eyes but gets frosting onto his face while doing it, “No you-” grabbing my hand, he moves it to steady the already falling house.

We’re a mess and it’s not helping that Lando keeps eating the gumdrops, “Norris!” I yell and slap his hand, “You’re killing my gumdrop families!”

“Your gumdrop families are yummy.” I roll my eyes as he mumbles to himself.

Max and P don’t fight but I'm pretty sure Lan and I sound like a war zone. I’m icing the roof while Lando drops random candy onto it. I kick him with my slipper under the table, “You’re ruining the aesthetic.”

He mimicks my voice, “You’re ruining the aesthetic. Just say you’re in love with me and get over it.” I scoff and hit him with a red vine.

He grins as he take a bite out of it while I laugh at how messy he’s gotten. “Shut up and come help me.” Lando pulls his seat back and sits on it backwards, resting his chin on the back of it and finally contributing.

We add more frosting, kinderds (per Lando’s request), candy canes, and some weird pearl candy P found.

I suck on a lolly while Lando continues to make the icing drip along the sides of the house, trying to mimic icicles. He’s very focused and flexes his arms while doing so. Squeezing out the partially hard icing and distracting me while doing it.

A loud bang sounds. Lando’s skeptical look and Max’s decision to shrug it off makes us continue on even when P starts to say it’s a ghost.

He sits back and admires his handy work, “You two are going down.” He says to Max and P, a mischievous expression on his face.

“Knowing you two… we’re fine.” P laughs and pokes her head around the barrier, her eyes are closed and her tongue out.

I scoff, “What does that mean!?”

I hear Max laugh now, “You’re a perfectionist and Lando’s biggest joy in life is to bug you!”

I stand up quickly, “You set me up!”

“All's fair in love and war.” I round the corner and look at their house. It’s perfect and pink!

I smile and cross my arms, “We can let the media decide this.”

Max smirks while P groans, “Can't we just end it here? You two are ridiculous.”

I grab Lando’s phone from his hand as he frowns, but doesn’t protest. I take a photo of Max holding their gingerbread house since P refused to be posted. Then I turn to Lando and smile, “Take your shirt off.”

“Hey! I expect that from Lando but not you!” Max eyes is both.

Lando head tilts as he looks at me curiously, “At least ask me on a date first, sunshine.” He does it anyways though, not caring out my brother.

“You’re totally unfairly manipulating this!” Max yells as Lando slips off his shirt and holds up our horrible little house.

I snap a photo of him grinning and flexing, and post it next to Max’s with a pole. “It’s called taking the matter into your own hands.”

Lando shivers as he pulls his shirt back on, smirking as he slips his finger into his mouth, cleaning off the icing and making eye contact with me. I clear my throat and turn to my friend who’s looking between the two of us.

“It’s cold in here, right?” P says suspiciously, “Babe, go turn up the heat.” Max disappears around the corner while we all start cleaning up and putting our houses on display on the windowsill

“It’s not moving!” Max yells from the other room, I can hear him hitting it.

“Maybe if you didn’t try to fix everything with force!” I stomp in and look at it with him, pressing my finger against the buttons.

“You’re not even trying-”

I groan, “You’re the one who-”

“Hey!” P yells, standing with her hands on her hips, “The rental lady said there’s a power box in the basement.”

Max pushes past me and hurries down the stairs I haven’t even gone near, “Christ he’s gonna blow us all up.” Lando follows as P shoots me a quick smile.

We can hear them arguing as I throw P a blanket and we wrap ourselves up and sit eating the extra candy. “Yours is so cute.” I sigh and look at her gingerbread house. It’s absolutely adorable and so her.

There’s tiny bows make out of red vines and pink starburst everywhere. She laughs, “I didn’t let Max touch it.” I laugh with her and pop a kinder into my mouth, “You and Lando are a good duo.”

I snort, “Right, a chaotic one.”

She shrugs, “Maybe. But I don’t know… It’s cute.” The second I realize where she’s going with this, I start to shake my head, “Listen!”

“No! No, Pietra! He’s… Fuck, He’s Lando Norris.” I’m still shaking my head as she dons an unconvinced expression.

“He flirts with you all the time!”

“In a joking way!” I argue, “And I can’t stand it!”

“He touches you a lot.”

“And It drives me crazy! He just likes pissing me off.”

She shakes her head slowly, a smile on her face as she brings the blanket up to her neck, “You like him.”

My face feels hot and I'm getting frustrated which is making it worse because she can tell, “He calls me names.”

“Yeah!” she scoffs, “an adorable nickname! That he made up when he was fifteen! The way he looks at you Y/n… it’s like- well…”

“Don’t say it!” I warn but the blonde doesn’t listen.

“It’s how Max looks at me.”

I sigh, putting my face in my hands, “P. Max is in love with you, Lando doesn’t…” My sentence ends in a whisper as she smirks, “I barely like him as a friend! Like literally three days ago I couldn’t stand him! Not much has changed.”

She shrugs, “By all means, keep it up. It’s entertaining to watch.” I roll my eyes and play with the wrapper in my hand as a bang comes from downstairs. “Just… you deserve someone like him.”

“He has like a million girlfriends.”

“He does not!” She laughs, “At least not anymore!” I give her a look as she reaches over and takes my hand, “All i’m saying is that I completely support whatever you do! Even if it’s a one night thing.” My eyes widen as she squeezes my hand and winks, “I won’t tell Max.”

I push her away and sit back in my chair, crossing my arms and smiling at my friend, “Also we’ll be gone for like three hours tonight.”

I laugh and throw a piece of candy at her as Lando and Max come up the stairs. Lando is picking cobwebs off of himself while Max wipes his hands on his jeans, “Welp, hopefully that worked.”

⋆༺

lando

“Let's watch Notting Hill.” She visibly pauses when I say it, looking at me confused with a bowl of popcorn over her blanket covered lap.

“Notting Hill!?” She repeats it, then shakes her head, “You never fail to surprise me, Lando.” I like it when she says my name, even when it’s a bit demeaning.

I lean my head back, she’s covered the couch in every blanket and pillow we could find. After the heater broke, she swore she was still cold so she’s extra bundled even though i’m sweating.

She finally tugs off her third layer of blankets and grabs the remote, “We’re watching a Christmas Prince.”

I frown but don’t say anything because I'm scared she’ll leave me down here alone and go call her best friend or something.

I’d rather play a game so we could talk or I could at least look at her, but she insists I have to watch this god awful movie.

She gave me some grace while eating delivered pizza and talking about the drivers she’s met which (scarily enough) is a lot.

Y/n is normally yelling at me during any movie to get me to shut up, but everytime I ask a question today, she answers in detail.

“Who’s this dick who took her cab!?” She smiles at my words, eating her popcorn and flipping her phone face down so it stops distracting her. “Ugly beard too.”

She gives me a look which makes me groan, “He’s the prince, isn’t he!?” She nods as I look up at her. Her hair is down and outright messy from her hood and the multiple blankets she has around her.

“It’s called a meet cute.” Y/n shrugs and watches the screen again.

“A meet cute?” I grab from her bowl, “But there was nothing cute about it.”

She eyes me, “Okay maybe it’s more of a meet hate… or a meet dislike? Maybe a meet argue.”

“Okay now I just want steak.” Y/n rolls her eyes again as I smile, “So, sort of like us?”

She sits up more, looking at me and laughing, “What would our meet hate be, then? I don’t even remember the first time we met.”

I’m a little offended because I do. “You were karting with Max and I for the first time and you totally ran me off the road!”

She turns more to me, “I don’t remember this but I'm going to stick up for my child self and say that it was your fault.”

My eyes roll. “You really have not changed. You blamed me for it because we were racing to win and Max got by both of us and ended up with the trophy.”

She laughs and fuck, I love that sound. “Sounds about right. But you definitely egged me on.”

“Oh one thousand percent! But I was just coping with the fact that the girl I had a crush on completely destroyed my ego!” I don’t really realize what I've said until she raises a brow.

“You had a crush on me!?” She laughs as I groan and shake my head.

I’m blushing now even though it was so many years ago, “I was like ten!”

“You fanciedddd me!” she drags out the words as she tries to pull the blanket off my head, “Norris!”

“Leave me alone!” She’s hitting me with a pillow now, “I had no idea what a terror you were!”

She scoffs, pulling back, “You little bitch, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know if you know this Sunshine, but you’re fucking terrifying.” Y/n’s eyes are teary from laughing and her smile is so big it almost makes me happy she found out.

“So what, you stopped having a crush on me when you actually got to know me?” I don’t want to lie to her, and I don’t know if I can about this.

“Shhh…” I grab a handful of the popcorn, “watch the movie.” She lays closer to me, her hair brushing my shoulder and our eyes both go back to the screen.

Y/n and I aren’t this close often. We aren’t ever alone. And I have to admit, the one thing I dislike about my best friend is that he is adamant on keeping me away from his sister.

His ��Hands to yourself’ reminder before he left was enough fuel to my fire for the night.

“She’s annoying.” I groan after way too many minutes of this movie. I’m pretty sucked in though I won’t admit that to Y/n.

“That is a common theme with these movies.” She nuzzles her head closer to me, “It adds to the charm.”

“Does it?” I frown and adjust myself, trying to get more comfortable and slipping my arm around her and expecting to be met with criticism.

She stays quiet though, just rests her head against my shoulder and shifts to the side.

I don’t know if she realizes it, but she’s been playing with the sleeve of my hoodie for the past twenty minutes. I don’t want to move, I don’t want the movie to be over, I don’t want her to hate me again.

Her phone rings and a small groan comes from her, she sits up, her warmth leaving me. “I thought I turned this stupid thing off.” She grabs her phone, flipping it around and rolling her eyes at the contact.

WHORE DO NOT ANSWER

Is the contact name with a picture of her ex with drawn on devil horns. I can tell she’s about to hang up but I always act on impulse.

Her phone is in my hand in seconds, pressing answer and holding it to my ear as she screams and jumps on me. “Y/n?” It’s a guys voice and I hate him instantly, “You finally picked up!”

I flip Y/n off my back and shove my hand over her mouth, trying to hold her down while I listen to her ex’s annoying voice.

“Hey!” I say just as the line goes quiet at the sound of another man’s voice.

“Who’s this?” I roll my eyes at him even though only Y/n can see me. She’s squirming and mumbling under my hand. She is remarkably easy to hold back for how determined she is.

“None of your business! How about we cut to the problem at hand and discuss why the fuck you’re still calling Y/n after you cheated on her?” he tries to talk but I cut him off, “Take a long look in the mirror bud because you will never be good enough to win her back.”

“Is this her new boyfriend?” He asks sternly.

“I’ll tell you that i’m not someone to fuck with, especially when it comes to Y/n. You don’t deserve to ever even look at her again but she is a professional woman who can be civil, even if it is towards a jackass like you.” He’s quiet now and Y/n is getting free so I hurry up, “Y/n has been gracious and practically a fucking saint to deal with your shit for the past year so stop calling!”

She finally breaks free and ends the call, out of breath and looking at me like I'm worthy of death.

She throws her phone onto the couch, on her knees and pushing back her messy hair. “He completely deserved it.” I try to back myself up as I fall onto my elbows, looking up at her.

She’s staring at me still, and I'm slightly scared for my life. But then her eyes soften and she does the most unexpected thing i’ve ever experienced.

She kisses me.

Her hands are on my face and her lips are squished against mine. We fall back on the blankets as my hands find her waist and I fully understand what’s happening.

I kiss her back, hard and fast like if I don’t take this opportunity now, it might never happen again.

She’s on top of me and just the weight of her makes my dick twitch. I slip my hands under her hoodie, her skin warm and soft. She lets out a little whimper when my hands tighten against her hips, unconsciously grinding into me.

“Fuck.” I mumble against her lips as her hands go to my hair. She’s breathing heavier and just as i’m about to start on her neck, the door opens.

She’s off me in a second, “Fuck.” Her hand goes to her mouth and her eyes go wide as the footsteps of our friends echo through the house.

“Oh, of course.” I say exasperatedly, sitting up and dragging a pillow onto my lap.

“Landooo! Y/n!” Max calls for us as I point at her lips which are now the same shade of red as her cheeks.

I reach over and smooth out Y/n’s hair. She looks so genuinely shocked and scared while I'm just annoyed that we had to be interrupted.

She plops down on the other side of the couch, pulling the blanket up high to her face and avoiding my eyes. “In here!” I mumble as they walk through the doors.

I look back to see Max and P all dressed up and smiling. They look wine drunk, holding hands while P kicks off her heels.

“Movie time!” P giggles and rounds the couch to sit next to Y/n who makes eye contact with me and for some reason, makes me laugh.

Max wraps his arm around P while looking at us funny. Y/n is giggling now while I just cover my face with a pillow and shake my head, “So what are we watching?”

P picks another hallmark movie and I make eye contact with Y/n again. I start laughing and Max seems genuinely annoyed this time, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” I say quickly. “How was your night?”

“Perfect!” P snuggles into her boyfriend, “How about you two?”

Y/n shrugs as if she wasn’t on top of me moments ago, “Boring. Lando hated the movie.”

“I did not! I was just distracted.” No one bats an eye at my excuse except for Y/n who hides her smirk with her hot chocolate.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC: I wanna be like most girls ghosts.

or Danny: What should I do to make my mom happy?

or ~Danny deserves a little teenage rebellion as a treat~

Maddie: I just want this damned Phantom to stop pretending to be a hero! All ghosts are pure evil, who is he trying to deceive? Danny: Oh, really? And Danny took it personally.

It’s not Danny’s fault that he’s a good kid and wants to make his parents happy. But why would he have to be a monster to make them happy? Why must they hate him to be happy?

Danny’s obsession was going crazy.

Well, when your own parents call you a monster in the face, it hurts. Why do they always believe that only their opinion is the absolute truth? They have no idea how much worse things would be if at least some of the ghosts really behaved the way Maddie and Jack think they’re supposed to. If he really is evil by nature, is there any point in fighting his own fate? They want to see him as a villain, he will become one. He will. He just needs a little help and practice. And not bring it to the level when Clockwork has to clean up his mess. Poor guy is without a vacation for how long? Couple of millennia?

Johnny 13: Sup. Danny: F*ck off, Johnny, I’m not in the mood. Busy thinking about world domination. Get out of here or I’ll call Kitty. Johnny 13: What’s wrong? You’re usually so grouchy only towards the end of the week. Danny: Nothing. Just parents. Again. They are wonderful but I can’t help but feel sometimes that they, em… Johnny 13: Suck? Danny: Right…Damn. I’m a terrible son. Maybe something is wrong with me. Johnny 13: What? No, no, dude. You’re just growing up. And you’re a little late, usually teenagers go through that stage before they graduate. Well, you’ve probably been busy with other issues, so just missed it. Danny: I wonder whose fault it is. Aren’t there ghosts who enjoyed to ruin my life in the middle of school day?

Johnny 13: Oh, bother. Anyway, you’re entering a beautiful time of emancipation, where you’re going to shape your own view of life and, along the way, to get drunk on cheap alcohol at parties, maybe to go to jail and to become the greatest disappointment to your family..And then you will be ashamed to remember it for about the next ten years. Danny: Well, it looks like I’ve already done two out of three additional things. Great success. Johnny 13: When did you get drunk? Danny: I didn’t. Johnny 13: Oh. Want to fix that? Danny: What? No. What an idiot wants to add a headache to his problems? Johnny 13: Well, your loss, then I’ll go terrorize the bars of Gotham alone and no one can stop me. Let’s see what your boyfriend will say about it. ~~~~~ Danny: Bartender, another shot of Dead Man’s Fingers, please. Red Hood: Babe, haven’t you had enough? Danny: Have you ever felt that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many sacrifices you make, in their eyes you’ll always be nothing more than a monster? Nothing more than a mistake? Oh, Death doesn’t give people like me a break. Red Hood: …I’ll have what he’s having. *gives the bartender a sign to switch the rum shots to a batburger milkshake for them, and starts talking to Danny so that he doesn’t understand Hood's scams*

~~~~~

Johnny 13: Other people’s kids are growing up so fast. It seems like yesterday he didn’t know how to shoot ectoblast, and now.. Kitty: Stop trying to make me feel bad, we’re leaving. Johnny 13: But the boy needs our support, honey boo!

~~~~~

Danny: I'm fine. Really, I am. This isn’t the first time mom’s called me a monster. She often called me that when she was upset with my behavior in my childhood. Huh, it's even funny. Jason: There’s nothing funny about that. Danny: No, you don’t understand. Looking back, I was really a very active child and didn’t know when to stop. Not surprisingly that I often annoyed my parents. They’re very busy people, and Jazz couldn’t always keep an eye on me. And I was often afraid to go to sleep alone because there were shadows in the darkness of my room. Well, I used to think they were. But I pretended everything was okay to not distract parents from work. Jason: Hey, it’s not your fault. You were a child. Obviously, kiddo requires a lot of attention, they must have understood that. You are the second child in the family, right? Danny: Well, Jazz was different. I don’t know. Anyway, I thought if the monsters behind the curtain and under the bed were just like me, well, according to my mom, you know, then they wouldn’t want to hurt me. And since they look after me, they are friends. So I kinda greeted all the suspicious noises and howls. Huh, I was a strange kid. Jason: If you smile at someone in the dark alley right now that someone is more likely to wet themselves or faint. Danny: Rude! I’m not that scary. Admit that I’m adorable. Do it right now. Jason: Stunning, darling. But still carry a gun and a knife, please. My childhood taught me that what's hiding in the dark is worth beating up. Danny: Come on, what should I be afraid of? Death? Anyway, I want to try this shit. Like, the inevitable one. Being a bad boy, you know? Hood *raises eyebrows*. Danny: Oh damn it man, I'm talking about ghostliness. I want to try to be like most of dead ones. I want to unleash my side of the trickster and the villain. But only a little bit. I have to be supervised so that things don't go too far. Would you help me, honey?

~~~~~2 hours later~~~~

~~~~~

Goons used to expect a lot of weirdness from working with the boss.

Sometimes Bruce Wayne would go into their base and yell at the Red Hood like he's one of his kids. Of course Wayne's well-known as 'Gotta adopt them all' but the guy must really suffer from insomnia to count the Red Hood into his brood of chicks several times. Sometimes the boss would fight Robin or Nightwing over differences in morals…or for biscuits. It varied from moment to moment. Sometimes the boss caught the local street children, fed them and taught them to steal correctly. And most of the foundlings stayed with them under their protection.

To make a long story short, Red Hood is not the typical crime lord that some of them had to deal with before. Which is a blessing. Thanks Lord for the health insurance. But still the crime lord. Which means he's still scary, and sometimes deadly.

Anyway, when the boss brought in a guy who looked more civilian than any civilian in the whole Gotham and said he was going to be their intern, they thought it was a joke at first. Despite the fact that Hood was not in the habit of joking while working.

The teenager was too well-mannered and sweet to come from Crime Alley. Phil thought the guy was gonna run when he saw the first murder, Jessica didn’t think the domestic boy wouldn’t chicken out at the sight of a fight. But arguing with a boss’s orders in their profession is like asking for a bullet in the head, so these conversations were taking place outside of their boss's sight. God, how can they teach him anything? What do you take from a boy who’s only good to do the coffee run? Fenton will fall if they’ll give him something heavier than 10 pounds. And then boss will yell at them because he treats the new guy like a princess on a pea. Well, at least that’s what they thought until the boss decided to give the new guy his own assignments:

~~~~~

Red Hood: So, what have you learned during your internship, my young Padawan? Danny: Well, it looks like I’m gonna suck at being a criminal mastermind. I think I may have to find myself some other profession. Red Hood: Come on, you just need a little more practice. Danny: Thank you but I don’t think that’s fit my obsession that good. Don't misunderstand me, I wanna be like most ghosts. But I was wrong to go to hit that goal only base on human stereotypes about my nature. Red Hood: What a pity. The newbies just learned not to flinch when you walk in. But, to be honest, I'm not gonna miss the adrenaline-boosting roller coaster of you at work. Danny: Oh, and I guess to hold on to the concept of humanity was really stupid too. I clearly no longer fit in and I’m finally ready to accept that. So, hopefully, if you get into trouble, you can rely on my ghostliness and call for help. I am the spirit of many talents and of my word. I can haunt your enemies or walk through the walls of Arkham Asylum. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. Red Hood: I’ll bear that in mind.

[birdyisthewordyy]

Hello!!! I've been reading your MW posts lately and I honestly love the way you write. I was wondering if I could make a request on how the crew would react if they received a random tickle attack.

(preferably by the reader)

a/n: hello nonny!! This is sooo sweet thank you so much :D always glad to make people happy with my work!!

Tulpar crew reacting to receiving a random tickle attack

Curly

Let’s be honest

He would be the one tickling you probably

But on the rare occasion you catch him off guard he will bust out laughing

Has the deepest manliest laugh too

Like you’re lowkey giving him goo goo eyes because of how beautiful he sounds

“You little ratbag!!”

Chases you around

The other crew members are like ???

Why are they giggling and chasing each other like little kids

Definitely gets you back

And shows no mercy either

You were weak…

But he will not be

You’re crying by the end of it

Don’t mess with the Curly monster

Jimmy

Oh god

If you can even touch him it’s a good day

Let alone tickle this man

If you by some miracle manage to spring a tickle attack on him he’ll be disgusted let’s be real

“The fuck are you doing? Quit it!!”

He’s actually extremely ticklish though

Has an evil villain laugh

Straight up like “muahahaha”

Hearing him laugh extended your lifespan by 20 years though

Truly healing experience

He will punch you to get you off of him

“Fuck off. Don’t do that again.”

Finds himself smiling after though

He’s not sure why

He hated that

Or did he…..

Daisuke

You and Daisuke already prank each other all the time

You are constantly getting into mischief with each other

So of course you hit him with a tickle attack

Has the goofiest laugh

“HeheheHAUGH HAUGH HAUGH”

Begs for mercy dramatically

You barely even did anything

Extremely ticklish

He will also get you back

Has one of those long sticks with the finger on it

Pokes you with it

Also loves to tickle you just randomly in general

He thinks your laugh is adorable

If you’re not ticklish he’ll still try

He is a man on a mission

Swansea

Swansea?

Ticklish?

Maybe when he was like 20

This old man is too tired to giggle at your antics

“Kid I lost all feeling in my neck when I was 40”

“Then how are you standing?”

“…shut up.”

He will eventually crack and let out a chuckle

Not because it tickles

Because your earnest efforts are cute

Pats your head

“Go run along and do something else, yeah?”

Doesn’t get you back but thinks about it

He likes your laugh a lot

Anya

Please god do not spring it on her

She will scream in terror

If done right she will giggle

And she also has a very funny giggle

Penny from that one scene in TAWOG

Reminds her of when she was a little kid

Used to love being tickled

Would ask her parents to tickle her all the time

She doesn’t want to get you back because “that’d be mean”

She understands other people don’t like it most of the time

Bonus she loves your jokes

Bad jokes in general just make her laugh

“If you can make her laugh and giggle, you can make that booty shake and jiggle”

“HEEEEEELP”

She says help out loud

Me too girl me too

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

Sup I’m back to feed you gremlins 

🏺⚔️💗Aphrodite Danny and Ares Phantom💗⚔️🏺

So if you’re been here long enough you’ll realize this as one of my first ever au and for some of my newer readers I’ll explain but before I do I just have to say Danny and Phantom are two very different people and now I can explain let’s go

After a few months after Danny being ‘Phantom’ Danny starts to feel… protective of himself???  Which is weird but ok it’s probably his imagination but over the course of a few weeks it gets weirder not bad weird but weird nonetheless like when he goes ghost it feels like he’s not really the one in control of his body and sometimes when the other ghosts get to rough with him he can hear a voice yell but not really being able to tell what its saying and Danny like Danny do is just kinda ignoring all this stuff because it feels nice..? Like being in a protective hug and knowing the person hugging you will kill for you if it makes you happy and all is well

and good until his parents see him transformed in to phantom they knock him out and bring him to their lab and after a few weeks jazz finds out what is happening ( Maddie and Jack told her that they had Danny go to something I didn’t really know what they would say ) And get him out of his restraints and turns on the portal or well try’s to because at that moment Maddie and Jack and a whole fight goes on well Danny is trying to get the portal working and Maddie unfortunately gets a good shot at Danny as he turns it on and causing him to get thrown in and it makes the portal ( that has enough energy to take out this universe ) and it does that exact thing it takes out Danny OG universe (✨ANGST✨ and not that Danny knows that right now ) considering Danny is knocked TF out again but this time it feels different like he unconsciously knows whatever is holding him will protect him with their whole core….

And Danny wakes up a few weeks later [ he really needs to stop passing out it’s starting to get annoying ] and looks around the room? Well it looks like a room it’s big and spacious it also looks a Greek temple bedroom with large marble pillars that indicate windows { you get the image} and now that Danny looks around he sees that his laying on a frankly to big bed and it has a large canopy with fabric as Danny looks around someone enters the room and leans against the wall and looks at Danny with a soft smile and as Danny looks in their direction he sees…Phantom but he looks different he’s wearing Greek style armor [and looking HOT in Danny’s eyes so he’s a blushing mess for a hot minute] and as he makes eye contact with Phantom it feels like he and Danny have known each other for as long as they’ve existed and a few shenanigans happen and would you look that that a couple who are deeply in love with each other.

And for what Danny and Phantom are they are the New Ancients of Love and Protection respectively {yes I’ve decided to change Danny to the Ancient of love}

And Now to what inspired this thing in the first place and that would be the God Games song it goes to hard anyway if you listened to it you can tell Athena has to convince the gods to let odysseus go and I thought “ what if I turned this into dc X dp and what tf is this??” Proceeds Down the rabbit hole that is pitch pearl and now you all have this word vomit I call a post and before I ramble even more let’s get to the DC part before this gets to long

Now for the DC part someone gets on the bad side of one of the Ancients and gets got and now the JL has to convince some of the Ancients you know like ( clockwork, frostbite, pandora etc) and of course Danny and phantom are there as the Aphrodite and ares part of the song. And that’s all I can think of the DC first the moment now on to the details of Danny and Phantom

For Danny I’m thinking something like this

Looking all majestic and shit ( also just imagine that his hair is black)

Also just a pic of phantom and Danny

They have the healthiest relationship you’ll ever see

And also if you want to make this as mom Danny you can have Dani and Dan as Phobos and Deimos just ima thought { forgot to add this in the beginning }

Anyway I hope you guys like this { P.S will add more if I feel like it} byeeee

[miumura]

THE LOOK IN HIS EYES ─── P.SUNGHOON

( 엔하이픈 성훈 ) ﹕ sunghoon is assigned with the task to accompany you at a party — however, one slight problem, you’re barely enjoying your time around him. so, as his job, he feels the need to fix that.

──── sunghoon x f ! r . . . ⌕ body guard au & fluff ∿ 2K+ ( 2033 WC ) ╱ HAPPY SUNGHOON DAY !! should have released a christmassy fic but this picture of him still lingers in my mind so i had to write something based of it … 🫣

Parties? You loved them.

Something about the bustling environment was enough to get your adrenaline running. It was a time where you’d be free from your duties given by your parents, simply spending the night away doing what you wanted.

So, there was obviously no way you could turn down an event, especially the huge one everyone was talking about recently.

However, the only problem? You had to be accompanied by your bodyguard, Park Sunghoon, for the entirety of tonight.

“I feel so restrained with you being here,” you huffed as you sank in the chair, staring at the crowd seemingly having the best time of their lives. You were stuck here, sitting next to him out of all people. Now, if you had expected him accompanying you alongside the party, you would have worked harder to tell your parents no.

Who would’ve expected he’d be here, looking blankly with that cold expression of his, instead of just waiting in the car?

“Why do you feel that way, Miss Y/N?” Sunghoon asks with the most monotonous voice ever, enough to make you simply want to grit your teeth. The fact he was asking such an obvious question—someone who was as persistent as him—would’ve already known the answer to that. It’s as if your parents programmed him to say anything, even if it was completely obvious or nonsense.

“I wonder why I would be acting like this around you,” you scoffed while fixing your posture to take one good look at him again. Resting your arms on the table, you shifted your body closer to his side. “You’re the cause of this, Mister.”

“Mister?” Sunghoon slowly turned, his eyes narrowing slighter as he placed his forearm on the table. His eyes interlocked with yours as he inched closer to you. “Then who would be able to watch over you to make sure you’re okay?”

His cold yet serious glance pierced through you. With this close proximity being so sudden, the words you wanted to say to let out some steam disappeared.

“I can’t really disobey your parents’ orders, can I?” he continued, raising a brow while keeping his eyes firmly on yours. “And I told you already, didn’t I? Let’s drop those silly formalities.”

Your breath hitched, and you instinctively leaned back, your back meeting the chair a little too quickly. Flustered, you cleared your throat, crossing your arms as if to create some distance.

“I suppose,” you muttered, refusing to meet his eyes. “But still, it’s uncomfortable for me. I can’t do anything without you watching me like a hawk.”

“Isn’t that my job as a bodyguard?”

“You’re rather extreme for a bodyguard, don’t you think?” you shot back at him.

“And how is that?”

“I can’t even do anything without having to be constantly wary of messing up something. I can’t even enjoy a party with you being here. Parties are supposed to be fun, and I can’t even drink comfortably or dance!”

“Why can’t you do that?”

“I just told you—because of you!” The frustration in your voice rose unexpectedly, catching even yourself off guard. Sunghoon blinked at your tone, momentarily taken aback, though his expression remained unreadable. You turned away, refusing to meet his gaze, your arms tightening around yourself.

“Then let’s go,” he said suddenly, pushing back his chair as he stood. He adjusted his blazer with practiced ease, his movements sharp and composed. Your eyes darted back to him, caught extremely off guard.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Drinking and dancing… that’s what you want to do, right?” His eyes met yours with a strange vibe of determination. “Then let’s do it.”

“You’re kidding,” you muttered, still processing his words.

“I’m not,” Sunghoon said simply. “You want to enjoy the party, so let’s make it happen.”

“Why would I do it with you?” You said with shock as your arms fell onto your lap.

“Aren’t I the one responsible for making you feel that way?” He tilted his head. “I should work on not letting you feel that way again.”

His words left you stunned, your lips parting as you hesitated to respond. It felt strange—unnatural even—to hear something like that from him. It wasn’t like Sunghoon to say something so... considerate.

Noticing the shift in your demeanor, Sunghoon let out a quiet “ah,” as if realizing something. “Because of your parents,” he added, his tone more neutral now. “I need to look out for you.”

Right. Your parents. The mention of them brought you back to reality. Pressing your lips together, you swallowed the words threatening to spill out. Instead, you rose from your seat, meeting Sunghoon’s gaze head-on now that you were standing at his level. “I hope you’ll be able to watch over me well, Sunghoon.”

Without waiting for his reply, you turned on your heel and headed toward the drink bar. Sunghoon stood frozen for a moment, his hand twitching as if to reach out and grab your arm. But before he could act, you were already walking away. Slowly, he lowered his hand, shoving it into his pocket with a frustrated sigh.

Still, his instincts kicked in. Watching you move further away, he quickly followed, keeping you in his sight. After all, it was his job to make sure you were safe.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” Sunghoon questioned as he still saw you standing close by the bar.

“Don’t feel like it,” you say, swirling the drink in your hand. You’ve been slowly sipping that drink of yours, eyes lingering at the dancing crowd.

“Is it because of me?”

“No, really, it’s just… there’s too many people and the music playing isn’t my style,” you try to shrug it off as you continue to watch them dance as if they had no care in the world.

But, your actions speak more than your words, and Sunghoon could see right through you. He moved to stand right in front of you, his expression unreadable again—the classic Park Sunghoon type.

“Let’s get you dancing.”

“What?” you blinked at him, feeling quite startled by his request.

The music shifted then, as if on cue. The energetic beats faded into something softer, slower, and much more intimate. Sunghoon didn’t budge, still standing right in front of you as couples began pairing up around the room.

“Didn’t you want to have a good time?” He asked, wondering why you were frozen in place. “We can go on the dance floor for that.”

Sure, you did want to enjoy the night, but not like this. Not with the timing so terribly ironic, leaving the two of you standing there awkwardly as others around you started pairing off for… couple dancing.

Sunghoon peeked over to look at you, watching you as you seem to purposefully ignore his presence. He eyed the crowd, watching the pairs dance hand in hand, their laughter traveling around the room as they moved carefree.

“Y/N,” you turned to his voice, your eyes soon looking down at his hand extended to yours. Quickly, you raise your hands in protest.

“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you with that. You see—”

“What? The music is not your style again?” He cut you off, his tone sharp but not unkind. His hand was still extended out for you. “Or do you really feel that uncomfortable around me?”

“It’s not that,” you stammered. “It’s just, you know, I… I can just wait for the next song!”

“If you keep waiting, then when will you be able to have the night you want?” He asked, leaving you struck by his words.

“Well…” you trailed off, getting Sunghoon’s close attention. He leaned in slightly with his eyes flickering to the movement of your lips, trying to predict what you were going to say.

“Well?” he said rather impatiently, although he didn’t want to come across that way. He just wanted to know your answer.

“It’s just a dance, right?” you chuckled awkwardly, your gaze drifting down to his outstretched hand. Slowly, hesitantly, you placed your hand in his. Sunghoon’s fingers curled upward to hold yours securely, his touch firm yet careful.

When you looked up at him, your breath caught. His usual stoic expression had softened, his eyes meeting yours with a feeling that made this moment more heavy than it should’ve been.

“Just a dance,” he murmured, his voice steady, as if he was reminding him of what this was supposed to be.

With that, you two danced together, moving at the same pace as the other couples. Sunghoon's hand rested steadily on your back, while his gaze—strong and unwavering—remained locked on you. What could have been an incredibly awkward situation felt unexpectedly… comfortable. You surprised yourself by matching his steps with ease, his presence oddly reassuring.

“Bodyguards can learn how to dance now?” You joked, attempting to break at the nonexistent silent barrier. Instead of one of his serious, programmed answers, you noticed a fond smile creep up on his face.

“Can’t one be obligated to do something they want, just like how you wanted to get up and enjoy this party?” he replied smoothly, his smile widening enough to reveal the faint glint of his canines.

The serious, cold Park Sunghoon… smiling. At you.

Your eyes found it habitually trailing elsewhere, which was more difficult given his figure blocking you from looking at anything but him. Still, you tried to find a way, which was looking at his side, you hoping not to glance back at his features. You weren’t sure why, but you felt the sudden urge to forget that smile.

Sunghoon noticed. Of course, he noticed—when didn’t he notice you? He noticed the way your eyes lit up with excitement when you’d first received the party invitation. He noticed the subtle furrow of your brows earlier when something about the party seemed to bother you. And now, he noticed the way your gaze wavered, a clear tell of your flustered state as the two of you danced hand in hand.

Your little moment of distraction didn’t go unnoticed by your feet either, as a sudden misstep caused your ankle to twist awkwardly. A gasp escaped your lips, but before you could fully lose your balance, Sunghoon’s reflexes kicked in.

His hand gripped your waist firmly as he pulled you closer, steadying you. His other hand shifted slightly to ensure your grip was secure, to make sure you didn’t stumble again.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you shrugged off, dropping your hand away from his arm as you stood on your own.

“You should’ve been more careful,” Sunghoon said, his grip slowly loosening but not entirely off your waist. “Can’t have you ruining your night.”

There was that stupid smile of his again–his canines appearing once more faintly as his smile grew wider. Strangely enough, you found yourself smiling too, finding it hard to suppress it.

“You’re smiling again,” you muttered, your eyes still lingering on his face. Sunghoon hummed as his hand continued to stay on your waist, his expression softening even more. It was as if you were opening another side of him, simply just by looking into his eyes.

“Does it bother you?”

Maybe it did, but you just couldn’t tell somebody that. That would be rude to… not let a smile like that appear on someone’s face. Instead of responding, you shook your head, maintaining the eye contact you tried so hard to avoid before.

“Then that’s good,” he said, his voice easily cutting through the music playing in the background. “Because I think I might be smiling a lot tonight.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his words while also feeling an unexpected warmth spread across your face. You nodded, finding yourself holding onto his arm again. His sincerity was too hard to miss, and his presence was slowly becoming less suffocating.

Without thinking too much of it, you steady yourself to continue swaying in the rhythm with him. After all, you did want to enjoy your night, and Sunghoon was there to accompany you as it’s seemingly his job.

He is your bodyguard, after all.

‘💬’ — not even a xmas fic but december by ariana grande was pretty much on loop while writing this …

ENHA PERM TAGLIST (1) — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @hyeosi @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @isoobie @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally getting help (prt 4)

Masterpost

The bats worked through the night, coordinating and researching everything that needed to be done. Distortion showed up on the camera which they assumed was Vlad trying to get in but he didn’t manage it. After he finished trying from multiple angels including somehow from directly above (well Zatana did say invisibility, intangibility, and flight were the minimal powers they should expect from creatures of the infinite realms.) He turned human again and spent a long time banging on their front door.

He tried to call the cops but commissioner Gordon called Bruce directly to get the full story then told Vlad it could be dealt with in the morning. Zatana was also coordinating people heading to Amity, a full on raid of the GIW, and the Fentons.

Batman and Superman were collecting all the information that the raid team was sending out and workshopping public statements they could sent out to the public and the government about the unacceptable things they had found and the steps the JL was taking to fix it. The government was not going to be happy they knew, with the JL ‘over-stepping’ into their business and actually getting the word out about the atrocities a branch of their government and their pet scientists had been planning. The JL needed to get out ahead of it before the narrative could be twisted against them.

It was first thing in the morning when they did a live broadcast from the watchtower with Batman, Superman, and Zatana telling the world about the parallel world existing harmlessly along side their own, and the way the government tried to exploit it. The atrocities committed under the name of the Anti-Ecto acts with the ignorance of the public as a cover.

It was at the same time that Constantine, Dick, and Cas were raiding the Fenton’s home. Of course they were armed, but so were the bats, and they were used to fighting people who were armed. It wasn’t a particularly hard fight.

A redhead was sitting wide eyed at the kitchen table. “Can’t we just have one normal day!” She suddenly snapped but she was glaring at her parents, standing up and slamming her hands on the table.  “First you send Danny away with Vlad even though you KNOW they hate each other and it’s a school day and now this! What did you do to bring the heroes down on us!?”

“I don’t know Jazzybear!” Jack half whined as he was forced into power supressing cuffs to neutralize his minor super strength and sat down in the living room.

“I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding, don’t worry sweetie,” Maddie added, both of them were dressed in jump suits which did not help their supervillain vibes.

“it’s not a mistake mate, you’ve been messing with shit you really shouldn’t. And that portal in your basement is a fucking beacon welcoming a war. You’ve gone unchecked for too god damn long, we’re taking over things now.” Constantine told them before stalking down into the basement with Tim on his heels, Batman would be joining them as soon as they were done their press conference.

Cas stayed to watch the parents and Dick approached Jazz gently. “Hey can I talk to you in private please? It’s about your brother,” He said gently and she stiffened immediately. Looking at him in a way that made him feel like she could see straight into his soul and froze him to the spot. After a moment though she just sighed and nodded, beckoning to him to follow her upstairs, to a room that was probably Danny’s not her own. She sat on his bed and grabbed a bear that had been sitting on the edge, waving for him to sit at the desk.

“So, what do you know?” She asked with a sigh.

“Well, last night Vlad took Danny to a Wayne Gala, one of Bruce’s daughter Cas is really good with body language and clocked that something was wrong so she and one of the other kids got him away from Vlad and out of the party. I guess he really needed some adult support because he broke down and told them a lot, about the Phantom thing, the ghosts and… something you’re not going to like. But first I want you to know he’s safe, Bruce Wayne is a licensed foster parent and he’s taking good care of Danny, you can come live with them too if you want.

“We’re going to deal with the ghosts and the GIW and everything else now, I can’t promise by the end of this you won’t need somewhere else to go. I have a feeling if Batman and the Martian family have anything to say about this your parents will end up in prison for their unethical experiments.”

“As long as Danny is okay,” Jazz said firmly. “I was only staying to take care of him anyway, just get me emancipated and a scholarship for Gotham U so I can study while still being close to him I’ll be fine. I’m almost 18 as it is.”

Dick nodded, she was a smart and driven girl, she knew what she wanted, he could respect that. “Now, the thing you won’t like…” he trailed off and took a deep breath. “Danny is pregnant.”

“What!?“ Jazz blanched, gaping at him for a long minute. “That can’t be right! I mean I knew he was trans but he’s usually only interested in girls, how would he even-“ She cut off her eyes widening. “It was Vlad wasn’t it?” She gritted out with an expression the promised excruciating violence.

“Yes,” Dick said shifting awkwardly in his chair.

“Right.” Jazz said and got up, coldly calm. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.” She grabbed a baseball bat from next to Danny’s bed that seemed to be glowing slightly then marched to the other side of the room, opened a cabinet and pulled out two odd looking guns. Before Dick could say much of anything she had vaulted out of the window and taking off down the street.

“Oh dear,” Dick muttered faintly before heading back downstairs. “Hey Cas can we turn on the news, some sort of local station?” He asked. Cas nodded and searched around for the remote, turning it on to find the channel was already on local news.

Vlad was already on there, talking about how it was awful Bruce Wayne had Kidnapped a local child Danial Fenton, and he could not be allowed to get away with this just because he was rich! But that didn’t last long, they watched for a few minutes before a blur of red hair and blue rushed past the camera.

“YOU TOUCHED MY BROTHER YOU CREEP!” Jazz said as she came out swinging and she must have quite the arm because her first swing sent him nearly flying off the stage. He scrambled to get up as she lunged at him again.

“Now Jasmine you’ve clearly been misinformed, I didn’t do anything-“ His muffled voice was cut off as she swung the bat again and he yelped as she hit him in the stomach.

“YOU GOT HIM PREGNANT! YOU DID THIS! YOU SHOULD BEHIND BARS NOT BEHIND A PODIUM YOU FROOTLOOP!” She shrieked as she swung again and this time he managed to dodge. The cameras following them as Jazz chased him down the street, the sound of his supplications and her shrieking fading out as they became more and more distant.

It took a frantic moment for the camera angle to switch to something else, maybe a drone, which was able to follow them down the street.

“You Don’t UNDERSTAND! I didn’t want to hurt him! I just wanted a perfect son! If he had just agreed to be my son none of this would have happened! When I knew it failed I told him to let them die!” Vlad yelled at her, though that did NOT seem to comfort Jazz at all. She had devolved into shrieking book titles like curses as she chased him with the bat and shot at him with the guns though her aim didn’t seem very good.

Well they had him admitting to it on camera now. As he watched a new actor joined the fray, a girl in a red jumpsuit holding a blaster.

“You did what to Danny!?” She demanded as she pointed the blaster at Vlad.

“Oh cheespuffs!” Vlad breathed, his eyes widening as Jazz trailed off letting who must be Red Huntress take over the chase as Vlad shouted about how he had made her! He had given her her weapons she couldn’t use them against him! Which did not seem to be stopping her.

The camera fuzzed out for just a second and then Valery was chasing a ghost with red eyes and a white outfit. Cas was laughing silently at the show and both of the Fenton parents seemed to be in shock. A few minutes later Jazz walked back in through the front door looking tired.

“Turn that off please,” she sighed as she put the bat down.

“Of course,” Cas agreed and picked up the remote again, turning off the tv. 

“Vlad didn’t actually do that, did he Jazzy?” Jack asked softly, he sounded so hurt, as if he had any fucking right!

Jazz looked at him blankly. “How many times have we tried to warn you about him? How many times has Danny told you he didn’t feel safe with Vlad? But as usual you couldn’t see past your own desires. I’m going to go see if the trenchcoat guy needs any help getting into your files,” She sighed before vanishing downstairs. 

Dick glanced at Cas, and then followed them, she would have no trouble watching the Fentons and staying quiet whereas Dick felt like he was about to explode. Batman joined them before long and between the three of them they shut the bulkheads on the portal and locked them, secured dangerous chemicals and devices, and downloaded everything they could. There were plenty of prototypes and blueprints, and stuff that could generously be called research.

It was obvious these people were geniuses but it was even more obvious that at some point they had become careless and obsessive. Half of the writing on the blueprints wasn’t legible, dangerous chemicals were not in proper containment, and the weapons were not locked up. Looking at all of this it wasn’t surprising that two of the people they had been involving in their research suffered exposure, it was a surprise more hadn’t. It was easy to tell when Bruce came down he was horrified, it was in the way he froze when he saw the lab, as if his brain was struggling to process just how irresponsible the Fenton parents had been.

“You must be Jazz, it’s nice to meet you. Danny speaks highly of you,” He finally rebooted to say when she waved at him. 

“I love my little brother, I always did the best I could to keep him safe from… all this,” Jazz said gesturing at the lab with a sigh. “I wish it had done any good.”

“You did plenty of good,” Dick put in. “Trust me, to a kid having someone care about them can make all the difference. 

“All those nights I patched him up after he came back from fighting ghosts. He healed fast but still. I can’t believe… he’s already been through so much and we knew Vlad was up to something! Ellie said she was our cousin but she looked just like him, I should have kept a closer eye on-” She cut off and shook her head. “He’s a good kid, of course if he couldn’t give the babies up, even if it would be better for them if he did. I hope he knows I’d support him either way, I hope he didn’t not tell me because he thought I’d be upset at Him.”

“I’m sure he didn’t,” Dick assured her gently. “Being a big sibling is hard, I know. But trust me you’re doing a great job, better than I did with my brothers,” he said, patting her shoulder. “You can ask him yourself later though. We have a lot to get done today to make sure he’s safe.”

She nodded stubbornly and doubled down on her work, directing them occasionally to where she knew they’d find more weapons or logs. She knew her way around the lab to a disturbing extent. 

Bruce and Dick both got a notification from Agent A saying that after a substantial sleep in Danny had woken up and was having breakfast. He seemed worried about the family but he was taking it alright, especially since he knew they were busy people. It did motivate Dick to clear things up as soon as they could so that they could get back to Danny though. The last thing he needed was More stress!

They had plenty of evidence of the Fenton parents breaking the law to call the police and have them taken away which gave them all the time they needed to strip the house. They got everything they could and decided to leave Constantine at the house to watch the portal until they could figure out how to shut it down completely without causing any damage. It seemed unstable so they didn’t want to risk it just now, especially without Danny’s input because according to Jazz Danny had made genuine connections in the Infinite Realms. 

They wrapped up this stage of the investigation before dinner after being up for about 36 hours. Of course they weren’t Done, there was still plenty to do investigating the government, how they’d gotten away with this and if they had any other nasty tricks up their sleeve. They’d have to manage any backlash from this unilateral move, and they’d have to figure out what to tell the public about Danny since Bruce would be fostering him. But all that could be done after having a family dinner with their new brother and a nap. 

part 5

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[endlessthxxghts]

Thankful

no outbreak!Joel Miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈1.8k

Summary: You're trying to prep for Thanksgiving dinner when Joel asks if he can pull you away for a minute.

Warnings: Implied established relationship. SMUT 18+ MDNI. Oral sex (f recieving). Edging (briefly). Squirting. Desperate!Joel. Pleasure Dom!Joel. An extremely thankful, pussy drunk Joel...✨Mirrors✨! Cumming untouched (Joel's a bed humping mess, what can I say?). Pictures are for aesthetic purposes; no physical description of reader.

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving! Here's a little Thanksgiving drabble with a domesticated, pre-outbreak Joel for y'all. I left it kinda open, so you can view him as a boyfriend or husband, entirely up to you, but y'all do live together! Anyhow, if you are celebrating Thanksgiving, please be sure to acknowledge the land that belonged to the Indigenous people first. I say this because we can enjoy Thanksgiving and the general themes it stands for while decolonizing the white-washed version. All my love! Hope you enjoy Joel being a thankful, horny menace.👹

MASTERLIST

“Happy Thanksgivin’, baby,” Joel says, sliding up behind you, his big arms around your waist caging you between him and the kitchen counter. He places a kiss on your neck. 

You smile in his embrace, loving the warmth radiating from his body. “Happy Thanksgiving to you, too, handsome.” 

“Do you have a minute to step away?” He asks, voice low. 

“Depends, baby,” you say, knowing you might know where this is headed. “Gotta finish prepping the sweet potato, so I can throw it in the oven. I can step away then?”

“This is for dinner later tonight at your parents, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah. Why?” You turn your head up to peer at him. He already has a big fat smirk on his face. 

“We have so much time, baby,” he kisses you once more. “I just need you for a minute.”

“Joel,” you say sternly, though you feel your knees already buckling.

His hands are at your waist, guiding you to the kitchen sink and guiding you to wash your hands. As soon as you’re done, he’s twisting you in his hold, so your body is flushed with his. Your neck angled back to look him in the eyes. Within seconds, his hands are on either side of your face, lips smashing into yours, tongue immediately darting out to tangle with yours. His hips push harder against you, and you can feel his hard length against your lower belly. 

Too lost at his sudden horniness, you don’t realize his hands leave your face and make their way to your thighs. He pulls away from you momentarily, letting out a breathless up as he taps the outside of your thigh. You lift your legs up to wrap around his waist. 

He’s walking you to your shared bedroom, lips still on yours. As he reaches the threshold of the room, he tells you to close your eyes. 

“Why?”

“Darlin’, just do it,” he says, amusement in his tone at your hard-headedness. One of his favorite things about you.

A small fine leaves your lips, and soon he’s throwing you on your bed, your body doing a little bounce at the fluffiness of your mattress. You squeal at being airborne, loving how he always manhandles you so perfectly. 

Your eyes are still closed even though you’re dying to open them, and you start to feel Joel unzip your jeans, kissing every inch of your now-exposed lower belly. Once your bottoms are completely off, he settles himself between your legs, putting your thighs up onto his broad shoulders, keeping you completely open to him. 

“Open, baby,” he says, kissing the insides of your thighs.

You peer through your lashes slowly, but then your nervousness fades. Nothing looks different. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Until you look at Joel’s hand wrapped around your thigh. His one finger is pointing up to the ceiling. You look up. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

You look up and see your reflection staring back down at you. A complete view of Joel’s body between your legs, his broad back on display with his cute ass you love so much. Your jaw is on the floor. 

“You like?” you hear him ask, a bit nervous. 

“When?” you ask, still a bit shocked (and crazily aroused) at your room’s new feature. 

“You were so busy in the kitchen all day,” he responds, “‘N I remembered our conversation a month ago, and I’ve been wantin’ to do it since, but never had the chance.”

You look back down to his own eyes. “I bought everythin’ for it after the conversation, too,” he adds. “Thought I’d make myself useful today in the way I know best.”

You think back to that conversation. 

“Baby,” you yell from the couch.

“Hm?” he grumbles from his place in the kitchen.

“How would you feel,” you pause for a second, easing your own nerves about your request. Sure, Joel is just as freaky as you are, but it’s a natural human reaction to be unsure about new things. “About putting mirrors in our room?”

He’s in the living room within seconds. 

“Mirrors?”

“Yes.”

He raises his eyebrow. “Mirrors where?”

You look at him for a minute. “...above the bed.” 

His eyes flash something dark. 

“Okay,” he says. 

“Okay?” you ask, shocked at his quick agreement.

“Okay.” You swear you see the one side of his mouth flip up in a smirk as he walks back to the kitchen. 

You reach your hand down to caress his cheekbone, wanting nothing more than to kiss him but waiting because you know what he’s about to do. “I fucking love it,” you tell him. 

“Good,” he says. His eyes look back down to your glistening cunt. He’s about to taste you when you speak up again. 

“Wait.”

He looks back up to you. 

“Take your shirt off. Wanna see you,” you say with a smirk as you point back up to the mirror above you. 

He sits back up on his haunches, a smirk identical to yours spread across his face. He unbuttons his flannel slowly as he maintains eye contact with you. What a tease, you think. Two could play that game. 

As soon as his chest is in view, you let out a little exaggerated moan, “Oh, fuck, baby.”

Your hand that was resting besides you moves to your chest. Slowly, you drag your fingers down your sternum, down your belly. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

His eyes are watching your hand like a hawk. He speeds up his unbuttoning process, but only by a millisecond, trying to keep his act and not fall under your siren spell. 

Your fingers reach the top of your mound, coursing through the patch of hair down there. You shift your hips for added effect. As he gets to his last two buttons, the two pads of your fingers make their way to your clit, circling soft and slow, pulling the softest but neediest of moans from you. “Fuck, baby,” you drag out, pained. You bring your fingers lower, dipping into your wetness. You pump in and out of yourself for a few moments, letting him hear how wet you are. “See what you do to me, baby?”

“Fuck,” he growls out, the brown of his eyes completely gone. His act is done for as he rips off his flannel, the last button flying somewhere with a soft clack landing. He’s back between your legs at an instant, his hand grabbing at your wrist and bringing it up to his mouth, sucking at the slick on your fingers. His quickness mixed with his roughness sends you in a frenzy, a lewd gasp leaving your mouth at his actions. 

He releases your hand and his one hand situates itself at the top of your ass, angling your hips more forward, putting your cunt directly in line with his mouth. His other arm situates itself over your belly. 

He licks a wet stripe through your seam using the flat of his tongue, and you swear you saw Heaven flash through his eyes. “God, ya taste so fuckin’ good,” he says. 

He places an open-mouthed kiss to your clit, pulling off of you with suction. Your hips try to chase him for more, but the hold he has on you has you going nowhere. “This right here is what I’m fuckin’ thankful for,” he whispers at your pussy before he completely dives like a man starved. Like it’s his Thanksgiving meal. 

His actions are focused on your sobbing entrance right now, his tongue lapping up your juices and entering your fluttering hole every chance he gets. The deeper he fucks his tongue into you, the more his thick, hooked nose nudges at your clit, providing the perfect amount of pleasure that sends you screaming. 

“Fuck, Joel-!” you yell out. “Please, don’t stop, just like that, baby, please!” Your back tries to arch as much as it can with his heavy arm weighing you down. He opens up his eyes, looking up to check on you. A smile forms as he licks at you: your head thrown back in pleasure, eyes tightly shut. He keeps his exact pace and pressure, pulling you to the very edge just like you so sweetly asked for. Then, he’s pulling off of you. 

Your eyes shoot open, immediately searching for Joel’s. You’re thrashing against his hold. “Baby, no, please,” you whine in frustration. “I was so close, please.”

He points back up to the mirror. “Don’t let my efforts go to waste, baby,” he says with a condescending inflection. “You said you wanted to watch me. So, watch. Or I’ll stop.”

You whimper at his words, nodding your head frantically, babbling to appease him. “Yes, baby, yes, I promise. I’ll keep my eyes open. Promise. Please, baby, please,” you beg.

Your words leave your tongue as his returns to the place you need him most. He angles your hips just slightly higher, giving him the perfect position to put all of his wet muscle into your pussy as his nose perfectly hits your already sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hands fly to his curls at the contact, your eyes threatening to roll back in pleasure. 

You use all your strength to bring your eyes up to the mirror, and the sight of his back muscles flexing and twitching with every movement he makes has the fire in your core burning brighter. The next thing you notice is what sends you over the edge. His hips are rutting into the mattress, easing his hardness as though he’s a dog in heat. The thought of his desperation for you — his primal crave for you — that ends you. 

You’re nearly ripping his hair out of his scalp as your eyes clamp shut, a stream of moans and gasps for air fill the room as you soak his entire face with your slick. At your finish, he’s moaning into you, and you can feel his body begin to vibrate. You open your eyes as best as you can, and you can see his hips are still rocking, weak and shaky. 

Fuck. 

He came. 

He looks up from your pussy, the bottom half of his face soaked with a devilish grin gracing his features. He looks more fucked out than you, and if you’re remembering your tiny glimpse of your reflection as you came, you also look utterly fucked. 

He wipes the wetness of his face on your thigh only to lick it all back up, sucking a few marks to bloom later tonight. 

He places one last kiss to your clit, causing you to yelp in overstimulation. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, as if he’s reminiscing about the things he just did to you. “I’m fuckin’ thankful,” he says as he heads to the bathroom to grab a cloth to clean you up. 

Tags: @javierpena-inatacvest @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @lilynotdilly @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @pedrostories @akah565 @getitoutofmymind

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[featherandferns]

god's test (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | inspired by this song amongst others

content warning: abusive parents; allusions to s3xual abuse; drug use/misuse; sexual content (female and male receiving; p in v); unhealthy relationships; brief mentions/discussions of fertility | Some heavy themes in this so please feel free to message if you're unsure.

word count: 18k.

blurb: what if the Pogues never found El Dorado? Life in survival mode at the age of twenty-two sure had lost its shine. In that tarnish, JJ wonders if your relationship has too.

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, til' death do us part.”

JJ sits crossed legged on the floor of his living room. To his right is a half empty can of Coke and to his left is the plastic case for the VHS tape which is currently whirring in the player, displayed on the TV through grainy, wibbly lines. His bright blonde hair sticks every which way. The Goodwill sourced t-shirt is too big on his frame but his dad insisted he’d grow into it, and to stop his moaning and bitching. Be grateful, was his last warning. The shorts on his skinny legs seem to be getting smaller everyday, perhaps because JJ only seems to get taller. That slight discomfort is a lost thought right now. Instead, JJ is glued to the wedding video on the screen. Glued to the image of his mother, smiling up at his father, the two of them unaged and undamaged. The two of them are in love. 

“I do,” JJ’s dad, Luke, says in an almost unrecognisable tone. Then, he leans forward at the officiant’s approval and kisses JJ’s mother. JJ misses her deeply. His heart squeezes at the sight of her smile, turning to the camera with a beam. He finds his own lips twitching up too as if her happiness is contagious. Then the tape cuts suddenly to the reception. It seems a small affair with only a handful of friends and family. JJ can place his uncle and aunt, who cradles his cousin Ricky in her arms, and a few more of his dad’s crowd of so-called friends. His mother can be seen in the background talking to her parents - JJ’s grandparents. They’d made themselves scarce after she walked out on JJ and his dad. Never once did JJ think he’d lose not only his mother but his grandparents too. Loneliness likes company, it seems. 

Another sudden cut and it’s his parents dancing. Their first dance. The dark lighting of the hall messes with the low-quality cam-corder's exposure. They’re painted in rays of shadows and glow almost ethereal-like as they sway to the music. Luke whispers something in his new wife’s ear and she giggles, soundless as the crooning voice of Rod Stewart sings their wedding song: ‘Have I Told You Lately’. JJ grins. He decides then and there, at the big age of eight, that that’s what he wants. That sort of happiness. As if blinded by the cinema of it all, he forgets the reality. The mess that surrounds him in the neglected house; the absence of his mother and the recklessness of his father; the strange definition of love that’s been tied to the Maybank name. 

So distracted by the tape, JJ doesn’t hear his dad rouse in the other room. He doesn’t hear the sound of the creaking door or the aching floorboards, and when he finally catches sight of Luke staggering down the hallway, it’s too late. His dad has caught sound of the song and it’s as if he’s intoxicated again, only now with rage. He glares at JJ and makes a b-line to the television screen, coming face to face with his hidden wedding tape. He had no idea JJ had found it and stashed it for his own safe keeping. 

“What the damn hell do you think you’re doing?” he barks, turning to JJ. He grabs him by the shoulder with one hand and hoists him onto his feet. JJ’s tiny body floods with terror. His feet go numb and cold and his face burning hot. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, huh boy!?” 

JJ flinches at his father’s tone. His lip quivers. “I…I only wanted–”

“You only wanted to what, huh? Stealing things like the no-good son-of-a-bitch you are, eh?” Luke hollers, spit flying from his mouth and onto JJ’s rosy skin. 

“I just wanted to see mama,” JJ blubbers. 

“You ain’t ever seein’ her again, you hear me?” Luke shouts. He tosses JJ back onto the floor. He lands on his backside with a smack, flinching at the feeling, and looks up to see his dad aggressively messing with the player. A new wave of panic comes over JJ as he jumps to his feet, darting forward for the tape before his dad can snap it in two. To JJ, it isn’t just a stupid VHS. It’s his mother. 

“No! Gimme it!” JJ screeches, scratching and clawing at his father’s arms as he attempts to wrestle the tape from his hold. His small hand latches around it moments before Luke’s own smacks him clean across the cheek. The force sends him flying onto his side, reuniting with the floor. Sobbing, JJ clutches the tape close to his chest. His dad yells abuse at JJ, tumbling cuss words in casually amongst his berates. Keeping the tape close and safe to his stomach, JJ manages to his feet and faces up to his father. An anger that he’s never known before takes control. “I hate you!” 

Before his dad can lunge for him again, JJ darts for the front door. He almost trips down the stairs in his hurry. The sound of his dad’s footsteps behind him sound like a giant’s, pounding against the floorboards. He chokes on his sobs as he sprints away from the house. I’m never coming back, he thinks to himself. That’ll show him. He doesn’t dare check to see if his dad is following. Not until he’s well away from the house, almost completely shot of breath, panting and heaving, no tears left to cry. Finally, he stops. He looks down at the tape with shaking hands to find it safe and intact. Luke and Marie’s Wedding Tape, it says in black sharpie across the front. He hugs it against him as if hugging his mother.

The moment of tranquillity is broken by a loud whoop and holler. His head flashes to the side to find a girl climbing on the old pier. It’s nearly completely decayed, broken down by a hurricane a few years back. Now it’s just pillars of wood, splintering and misaligned.

Some adult on the new pier is yelling at you. “I’ll tell your father, missy! You listenin’? You get down from there now!” Beside them are some friends, blissfully ignoring the warnings, cheering you on. You turn to them and JJ catches sight of your smile. It reminds him of his mother’s and a warm feeling sparks somewhere in his chest, as if lighting a match in a damp cave. The sun twinkles above your head and that’s when JJ notices the streak of hot pink in your hair. Woah - Cool. And then you’re falling - hurling yourself into the air and flying down into the water - out of sight. He takes a step forward, as if to do something, and waits anxiously with the others for you to re-emerge. You break to the surface with a cackle. Your friends erupt in cheers and you giggle, splashing water as if aiming for them despite being metres down below the pier. And then you look straight at JJ. It's just for a second, only a second, but a second was enough. Eight-year-old JJ Maybank was in love.

6 Years Later

Confidence is a powerful armour. It makes you almost untouchable. Nobody messes with the mouthy kid. The kid who gets in fights; the kid who makes the room laugh. JJ knew what it was like to be on the bottom of the food chain and he was never going to willingly put himself there. At school, he made himself a staple. A delinquent, known for his short fuse and reckless choices. It kept the bully’s off his scent and gave him a good outlet for the repressed anger and hatred he held towards his father. Though, the older he got (now fourteen), the more JJ fought back. His dad could no longer throw him to the ground as easily. Not now that JJ had taken up working out and picking fights in the school yard. Luke wasn’t the only one who knew how to throw a right-hook now. And the most important lesson JJ had learnt? Never let them see you cry. 

The downsides? Cut lips, lingering bruises, and detention. So much detention. 

“Nice of you to join us, Maybank,” the teacher mutters, not bothering to look up from his newspaper as JJ loiters into the classroom after school on Thursday. 

“Happy to be back, sir,” JJ casually returns. He scribbles his name down on the sign up sheet, confirming his attendance, then scans the room.

There’s the regulars: Tommy Peach, who’s always doing time for selling whatever pills he can get his hands on in the parking lot; Ashley, who has a habit of smoking in the girl’s bathrooms; Colin, who got spotted with a gun in his backpack just the other day, supposedly just to ‘show it off’; and Pearl, who skipped three classes in one day (her record being four and a half). He catches her eye and winks - they’d made out behind the bike shed last week. You can spot the one-time offenders easily. They’re usually hanging their head at the very back, biting back tears, full of shame for letting down mommy and daddy. JJ had a certain distaste for them. He supposed it was because he knew his father could give less of a crap if JJ wound up in detention. If anything, JJ preferred it. Less time for him to be in his house and less risk of getting a beating for some slip-up. This time, the new offender is Patty Grayson - a goody-two-shoes smarty pants who had forgotten her homework. JJ’s surprised they didn’t let it slide given her track record. Finally, his eyes land on another new timer. 

You’re not hanging your head as if praying for forgiveness, nor are you sobbing your apologies into the abyss. No: you look rather comfortable and - if anything - bored, as you lounge in your seat. A bottle of silver nail polish sits on the desk as you paint your nails. As if feeling his stare, you glance up and meet his gaze. You frown. Right, yeah, I’m being weird. JJ decides to take a seat next to you. He watches you in his peripheral vision for a while as you paint and paint. At one point, the teacher heads to the staff kitchen for dinner, giving a half-arsed warning about sneaking out. Pearl is happy to skip detention, probably addicted to the thrill, but everyone else stays sat. Suddenly, you look at JJ. 

“Can I help you?”

“Huh?”

“You keep looking at me,” you say, irritated. 

“I do?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, y’know…” You quirk a brow, waiting for his reply, and JJ scrambles for one. “Your hair.”

You frown. “What?”

“Your hair,” JJ uselessly repeats. 

“What about it?”

“It’s purple.”

“Yeah. I dye it. It’s not my natural colour, idiot,” you reply. 

“It looks nice,” JJ tells you. You’re visibly taken back, blinking at him for a second. 

“Oh,” you mumble, lifting a hand to pet it, “thanks.”

“You ain’t ever been to detention before, right?” JJ checks, finding it easier to converse now that you’ve calmed down. 

You laugh. It sounds just the same as when you were little, from the first time JJ saw you, but only deeper. More mature. “Cause I’m good at not gettin’ caught, unlike you.”

“Oh, you been keepin’ tabs on me or somethin’?” JJ grins. 

“You hold the record for the most detentions, Maybank. Sorta puts you on the map," you say with a roll of your eyes. 

Holy shit, she knows my name. 

“Maybe you’ll have to teach me your ways some time,” JJ smoothly quips. 

Shaking your head, you turn your focus back to painting your nails. “I work alone.”

Like some dork, JJ watches you for a while. Something tells him you know he is as there’s this little smile on your lips. His eyes trail down from your face to your arms and soon to your hands. Your knuckles are bruised and scabbed over and JJ frowns, curious and concerned despite having only just officially met you. Ever since the day at the pier back when he was eight, JJ had been vaguely aware of your existence. You were in the year above at school and undeniably cool. He’d seen you skating in the parking lot, caught you getting lectured for shoplifting at the local grocery shop for a candy bar, noticed you helping (who he assumed was) your dad fish, and seen you from time to time in the halls. The only person who was aware of his infatuation was John B, who tortured JJ relentlessly for it. Over the years, your hair has undergone many changes. At one point it was buzzed completely off. He didn’t see you much that year, come to think. Now it hangs just past your shoulders, a deep, enticing purple. It caught him off guard because only last week it was royal blue. Not that he was keeping track or anything…

“Here.”

JJ snaps out of his daydream to find you holding out something to him. A thin, white stick, rolled rather wonky. 

“You want some?”

“Won’t we get caught?”  JJ reflexively asks. 

“Boo. Pussy,” you teasingly return, retracting the offer. You briefly glance to the doorway before retrieving a lighter: bright, shiny silver and square. You light the end and take a drag. There’s a sweet, sickly smell that comes from it. 

“I ain’t a pussy,” JJ counters. There’s a smirk on your face as he takes the joint from you, guiding it to his lips to inhale. It catches uncomfortably in his throat and chest, making him cough. Laughing, you consolingly pat his back. He clenches his eyes shut: so embarrassing. 

“You good?” you giggle. 

“Never better,” JJ manages out through his chokes, giving you a shaky thumbs up. 

“First time?”

He shakes his head but you’re unconvinced. Smiling, you dig about in your pocket to retrieve a set of house keys. JJ watches as you scratch something into the metal of your lighter. He takes another hit of the joint as you do so, managing better this second time around. As he goes to hand it back, you trade him for your lighter. 

“Here,” you say, passing it to him. He takes it and looks at your inscription. JJ. His lips twitch in a smile. Glancing to you, you light-heartedly explain, “your first stoner lighter.”

As you finish taking another drag, the teacher’s footsteps sound from down the hall. Cool as a cat, you put the joint out on the underside of your chair and slip it back into a little metal box decorated with Powerpuff Girls stickers. It slips safely into your bag just as the teacher rounds into the room. At first, JJ worries you’re caught, as the teacher’s finger singles you out. But then he tosses his thumb over his shoulder. 

“Your dad’s here early to pick you up,” he tells you. 

If you’re happy to be leaving early, you don’t show it. If JJ didn’t know better, he’d even say you’re reluctant as you pack up your stuff. Shucking your backpack over your shoulder, you flash JJ a smile, rising to your feet. 

“Well, hopefully I’ll see you around, Maybank.”

“Yeah, same here,” JJ says, smiling. 

You walk past the desk and head out the door. JJ’s sure it’s the effect of you rather than the weed that leaves him feeling more dazed than ever before in his life. 

Two Years Later

What better way to lay-low than by throwing a kegger? JJ’s logic was undisputed. Not only had he encouraged the Pogues to hang onto the money and the gun that they'd found in the motel room, but he also got them to throw a last-minute gathering at the Boneyard. Honestly, his genius should be rewarded. 

As he mingles through the ever growing crowd, the sun growing darker by the minutes, JJ peruses the options. Some tourons had shown up: clueless but eager as they got roped into drinking games and conversations, and hit on constantly by locals. The kooks were mostly keeping to themselves, happy to drink the beers and cans brought by the people on the cut. Typical. Pearl catches JJ’s eye and she tips her cup at him in greeting from across the way, a seductive glint in her eyes and a telling message in her smile. JJ lazily tosses a hand up in return. They’d hooked up a few times now but he wasn’t feeling it tonight.

As if guided by fate, you come perfectly into JJ’s line of sight. You’re drinking from a red solo cup, chatting with some of your friends, pretty in an oversized tee and shorts. Again, just as you had in detention two years prior, your eyes catch onto his. This time, you smile. Saying something to your friend before heading over to JJ (who’s half certain he hit his head earlier and might be hallucinating). 

“Enjoying yourself?” JJ asks the minute you’re in front of him. He’s taller now. Ever growing in his confidence; sex does that to a guy. It makes them feel invincible. 

“I’m guessing your group is the one to thank for this kegger then?” 

JJ grins. “We know how to throw a good party.”

“I’ll say,” you smile. “I wish there was more music though.”

“You dance?”

“Sometimes. If I’m with the right person,” comes your sly response, smiling up at him. “You look different since detention.”

JJ would like to think so: that was two years ago. “Really? Different how?”

“Taller. Fitter.”

“Hotter?”

You laugh as you say, “you’re pretty sure of yourself, huh?”

“I was told confidence is sexy,” JJ returns. “What’d you think?”

You don’t say anything but JJ knows he isn’t crazy when you take a sip of your drink, your eyes scanning over his body leisurely as you do. You give a small hum. 

“So, got tired of the purple?” JJ asks, gesturing to your hair. It’s long now and seemingly your natural hue again, like it was that day at the pier all those years ago. There’s now little strands of tinsel in it that reflect different colours in a silverish shine depending on how the light hits it. Your nose ring is new too, though JJ noticed that the minute you had that done. He noticed you a lot, even if he never spoke to you. You never did to him so he just assumed to stay clear. Besides, there was a rumour that you went out with Tommy Peach a few months back and JJ didn’t feel like getting his ass handed to him. JJ was good at fighting now, as unfortunate as that was to admit, and he was aware he was in good shape, but Tommy was feral and tall. God knows why you wanted to go out with a scumbag like that, but JJ supposed he wasn’t much of a step up either. 

“My dad hated it,” you say. “And I wanted a change.”

“Shame. I liked the purple.”

“So you don’t like it like this?” you wonder. “Bummer. I was gonna try and shoot my shot with you but guess I’ve lost my chance…”

JJ’s eyes somehow don’t fall out of his head. He chuckles, almost nervously, and clears his throat. “Say what?”

You roll your eyes . “When a girl gives you her lighter and says she hopes she sees you around, JJ, it’s her way of saying ‘you’re cute, we should hang’.”

Oh. 

Laughing, as if hearing his inner monologue, you shrug. “Guess I got tired of waiting for you to make the first move. Lucky for you, I’m two beers in and that seems like enough confidence to come over”

“Two beers? I don’t wanna be taking advantage of you,” JJ teases, making you laugh. 

“Can’t believe you’re accusing me of being a lightweight when you nearly died after smoking your first joint.”

“Woah! Low blow!”

“I thought I’d murdered you! I was scared you were allergic or some shit,” you giggle. 

JJ grins down at you and tries to retrace his steps to how he got here, stood on the beach, talking to you and having you actively hit on him. It feels like a wet dream he’d concoct on lonely nights. He stays in that borderline stupor as the two of you talk and talk. You’re funny, but JJ already knew that, and you’re an adrenaline junky too, but JJ knew that as well. The two of you like the same kind of music so that leads to a huge discussion which almost becomes an argument of who was better: Kid Cudi or J. Cole? The more the drinks flow, the more your hand finds solace on his thigh, and the more his on yours. Soon enough JJ's foot’s rubbing leisurely at your ankle, personal space a long disputed myth, and he’s fighting the urge to kiss you. He’s not sure why he’s dragging it out when you’re obviously into him. Maybe he just wants to keep the anticipation alive for a little bit longer. After all, he’s wanted this since he was eight years old. 

The moment is interrupted by someone hollering your name. As you look up, JJ realises how dark it is. It’s officially night now with the moon high in the sky. A few people have pulled on sweaters as the evening has cooled, especially with the seafront breeze, but JJ feels burning hot. He spots someone waving at you and beside them is a girl crouched in the sand. You cuss and get up. 

“That’s my friend. I better go help,” you hurriedly explain. You pass JJ your empty cup and give an apologetic smile. Then, you press a brief kiss to his lips. It's so brief that it barely feels real, and JJ doesn’t register it until you’re already walking away. “I’ll be back soon! Sorry!”

JJ watches as you hurry over and help out your vomiting buddy. Sighing, bummed, he looks around and tries to track down his friends. The alcohol hits him when he stands, flooding from his brain, down to his body like ice cold water. He staggers for only a moment in the direction of John B, filling up the cups in his hands on the way as if willingly ignoring his body’s messages. He whistles out to catch his best friend’s attention, offering him one of the cup’s of beer. But Sarah Cameron and her douchebag boyfriend Topper make their way past, and something inside of JJ seeks mayhem. He offers it out to her instead but Topper tries to lay claim. 

“That’s nice of you man, but I didn’t ask you,” JJ returns. “If you said ‘pretty please’, maybe. But you didn’t.”

“Oh! Pretty please!” a squiffy Topper checks. 

“Yeah,” JJ replies. “So, Sarah, I promise–”

The beer hits JJ’s face in a non-refreshing wake-up. His anger tips quick like a nuclear bomb. His hands come up to Topper’s shirt, grabbing him before shoving him back. John B’s hand comes up to JJ’s chest, firmly trying to hold him back. 

“You’re so funny man!” JJ sarcastically urges. Before he can push it further, Topper says something that has John B lurching at him and soon enough, a full on fist fight begins. Pope is quick to intervene with JJ, holding him back, and no matter how much the latter struggles, he can’t seem to get to his best friend. Concerning seeps into the anger as he watches Topper lay into John B, kicking him into the water. And then pride when John B starts to fight back. “Give it to him, man!”

The night feels as though it’s split into two as JJ loses himself in watching the fight. His conversation with you might have happened years ago as his attention homes in on the flying fists and chants of the watchers. And then it all turns sour. Topper holds John B down into the water, face smushed into the sand, and all he can hear is Sarah begging for him to stop. JJ fidgets nervously, eager to do something, unsure of what. Then, another genius idea. 

It feels out of body as he retrieves the gun and checks the safety. As he makes his way over to the water and presses it against Topper’s head. It doesn’t feel like he’s in control of his body when JJ clicks the safety off. Topper stills beneath him.

“Yeah, you know what that is,” he warns through clenched teeth. “Your move, broski.”

Nothing but the waves. Nothing but his heartbeat. Nothing but John B’s choked breathes in the water. 

“Put the gun down!”

“Did you say something, princess?” JJ asks Sarah, focus on Topper’s hands. Eventually, they lift off John B’s weak body. The rich asshole repeats that they’re good and JJ shoves him down. But he’s still so angry. He’s always so angry. The mentality comes back from when he first started school. Never be the weak one. Never let them get the upper hand. Assert your dominance. He raises the gun into the air and turns to the dying crowd. “Okay, everyone, listen up! Get the hell off our side of the island!”

The gun fires twice, the recoil minimal. It cracks in the silence of the night. A few people scream, alarmed, and then they start to run. 

JJ comes back to his body when Kiara shoves him. An argument breaks out between himself, Pope and Kie, and as the two others rush to help John B (who collapses back into the waves), JJ finally remembers the night. The whole night. He remembers you. As he looks out into the mass of bodies rushing away from the scene of the almost crime, he spots you. You look conflicted, for only a second, and then you leave too. 

Shit. 

The next day, JJ kills the time in the mid-morning with target practice in the back yard. The cops had swung by earlier and he thought it right to celebrate keeping the gun. Your whistle sounds like a birdcall. JJ’s head whips around at the sound, startled, and it seems to amuse you. He lowers his gun and frowns, confused at the sight of you. 

“How d’you know I live here?”

“I have my sources,” you smile, tapping the side of your nose. You wander leisurely into his back yard toward him as if you’ve been there thousands of times before. Nodding to the gun in his hand, you quirk a brow. “So, they didn’t take it off you?”

“Let me off with a warning,” JJ shrugs. “They couldn’t find the gun and have no proof that I kept it…”

“Ah. Loopholes,” you hum. 

When you come to a pause beside him, JJ awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. “Look, I’m real sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“Freak me out how?” you frown. 

“With the whole…gun…thing.”

Laughing, you shake your head. “That ain’t why I left JJ.”

“It ain’t?”

“No! I mean, Topper looked as though he wasn’t gonna let up, so,” you say, shrugging in agreement with JJ’s previous actions. “I just can’t go back to prison anytime soon. My dad’ll kill me.”

“Back to prison?” JJ says. He shouldn’t be as impressed (or turned on) by that as he is. 

“Ooo, the big scary place, I know,” you grin, teasing, before randomly making a grab for the gun. JJ barks out a laugh, holding it up and out of reach. “Come on! Lemme have a go!”

“You ever shoot before?” JJ asks, eyeing you up. 

Rolling your eyes, you nod. “We have a BB in our house that I fire around all the time. I wanna see how this one feels.”

“I don’t know. I shouldn’t give a weapon to a known criminal, right?” JJ says, tone almost flirtatious. 

“Come on. You can do the whole ‘let me show you’ thing.”

Lowering the gun, JJ chuckles, befuddled. “The what?”

“You know! When guys wanna feel a girl up they pretend to teach them how to do stuff. Like a tennis instructor or something. They’re all like ‘let me show you’.”

“You tellin’ me you got a tennis instructor?” 

“Yeah, and a mansion with three yachts - now come on!”

Shaking his head, laughing, JJ relents. He hands you the gun, safety on, and partly to follow along with your joke, but mostly to feel your body close to his, JJ stands almost fully behind you. He checks which is your dominant hand and guides your arms up into position. He shifts the position of your fingers. Your hair catches slightly in the wind and the smell of fruit and herbs dulls his senses. When he speaks again, you giggle. 

“Your breath tickles,” you mutter. 

“It does?” JJ checks, purposefully speaking even closer against the skin of your neck. You squirm and laugh and JJ has no idea how any of this happened, but he sure as hell isn’t complaining. “You gotta keep still.” 

As if to coax you to do so, JJ plants one of his hands on the side of your waist. Your breathing seems to catch with that, all giggles dead on your tongue, and JJ struggles to bite back his smirk. His chin rests comfortably on your shoulder as he follows your line of vision. You click the safety off under his instruction and then fire. He feels the power of the gun run down your arms, the recoil making your body jilt only slightly. Clicking the safety on again, you lower the gun and turn your head. Eyes half-hooded, you look up from his lips into his eyes. JJ notices a small, relatively fresh cut under your eye. Was that there last night? That train of thought derails when your tongue peaks out, dampening your lips. JJ loses all patience. His lips are on yours, kissing you, hand tightening just so on your side. You carelessly drop the gun to the floor and turn in his hold. Hands on his face, on his shoulders, around his neck, in his hair…JJ kisses you until he’s not sure what his name is anymore. Even then, he kisses you still. 

From there, the two of you were intertwined in one another’s lives. There was no other way to put it: JJ adored you. It was as if you constantly shared a common thought: JJ had never met someone so like himself. Two sides of the same stone. The Pogues noticed it easily. You didn’t exactly have to ask to join the gang. The fact that JJ trusted you enough to bring you around spoke volumes to his friends. They’d never met one of his previous situationships or flings before, and from that they could recognise this was something different. Seeing the two of you together just drove that point home faster. Birds of a feather. When the wild goose chase surrounding the Royal Merchant cropped up, you joined that too. Pope joked that there was something wrong with your amygdala, which upon explanation meant that you seemed to have a pretty low fear factor. It came after you literally wrestled Barry for the gun when they got held at gunpoint. All you’d done was shrug and said that you’d known “true fear” and that wasn’t it. Nobody knew what that meant, including JJ, but he had a feeling that he might after he dropped you home one time. 

The Chateau had become almost as familiar to you as it was to JJ. The pair of you had claimed the porch as your go-to smoking spot. One Tuesday afternoon, you sit sprawled in the armchair: head on one armrest and legs swung over the other. Your now lilac highlighted hair dangles in two braids. JJ is keeping himself entertained by tracing his eyes up and down your legs, over your stomach and chest, up to your dozed out face, and back again. The two of you were smoking hash, passing it back and forth leisurely, sharing mindless musings about life and the world and what things might be like if you actually found the gold. 

“I’d buy a house,” you say. 

“Lame.”

“A big house,” you continue, ignoring him and gesturing in front of you as if visualising it. “It’d be pastel blue with big white shutter-style windows and a wrap-around porch. There’d be one of those porch swings sat out front. Oh! And flowers. A shit ton of flowers.”

“You can’t even keep a cactus alive,” JJ snorts. 

“I’d hire a gardener. Duh,” you say, rolling your eyes. 

“Anything else?” JJ wonders. He keeps a mental checklist: blue house; white shutters…

“A dog,” you smile. “And a cat.”

“Alright then.” Maybe it’s the manner that he says it that has you looking at him, amused. “I’ll do it.”

“You’ll ‘do it’?” you chuckle, raising your brows. 

“Yeah. When we find the gold–”

“If we find the gold–”

“When,” JJ insists, making you laugh, “I’ll get you your house and your dog.”

“Don’t forget the cat,” you warn, pointing at him. 

“Christ, lady! And your cat.”

“Good,” you smile.

You look back to the ceiling and slip your eyes shut, sighing contentedly. JJ chuckles, shaking his head, gazing at you as if you sculpted the planets and personally hung them in the solar system. It’s short lived bliss, however, because your phone pings. Then again, and again, until it’s nothing but an ongoing buzz of noise. JJ frowns at it and you quickly reach over to the window ledge where it’s precariously sat. The moment your eyes scan the screen, you sit up. Everything about your demeanour shifts. JJ sees the second you switch to panic. 

“I gotta go,” you mumble. You swing your legs off the sofa and stand. JJ’s quick to follow. 

“Everything okay?”

“I just gotta go home right now,” you reply, already making your way down the porch steps. JJ ditches the spoon pipe on the coffee table and catches up. 

“I’ll take you on my bike,” he says, grabbing your hand and guiding you to it. You don’t argue and he doesn’t ask for an explanation for the urgency. Wordlessly, the two of you climb on - your arms tethering around his middle - and JJ starts the engine. Speed limits become a pleasantry rather than a courtesy as JJ speeds to your house. Your phone doesn’t let up the whole journey and with every ping, JJ bumps it up by another mile per hour. It’s a skidding halt when he stops outside your house. He’d only been there a handful of times before, usually to pick you up. Similarly to JJ, you didn’t like going home all that much. You’re climbing off the bike before JJ shuts the engine off. Seemingly at the sound of the engine, your dad emerges in the front door. You turn to JJ. He doesn’t recognise the look on your face. 

It terrifies him. 

“JJ, you have to leave - now,” you tell him. 

He frowns, brows tugging together. “What’re you–”

“Just leave. Go. Please, JJ,” you push, glancing between him and your approaching father. Something softens in your tone, akin to desperation. “Please.”

JJ looks to your dad just as he passes the threshold of the porch, then looks to you once more as if needing approval. You nod as if understanding. The same thought, always shared. Then JJ’s turning tightly in the makeshift drive of your house and starting off down the road before your dad reaches you. He acutely registers the funny feeling, tight in his chest as if something was squeezing his heart and lungs in a vice. It was the same feeling JJ got whenever he went home. 

The same feeling JJ got whenever he saw his own father. 

As the months went on, the relationship you and JJ shared was soaked in marjuana and sweat. Smoking in the morning and fucking through the night. Not only did you encourage JJ’s idiocy, but you joined it. It was as if you were there to enable the other. Shoplifting beers, pier jumping in the thick of night, skinny dipping before dusk, pulling crazy stunts with the others that nearly wound up getting you killed more times to count. But just like JJ, you were loyal. It was as if the minute you became a Pogue, you wore it like a military title, nothing short of honoured. You’d lay your life down for the group and for the hunt for gold.

JJ wasn’t sure who said I love you first. He’s not even sure if either of you ever said it. You don’t have to say I love you to say I love you. Besides, two avoidant, daddy issue riddled teenagers didn’t make for the most textbook healthy relationship. The two of you would fight and it was bad when you did. But it was a rarity. There was little time for blow-out arguments when you were running from one place to another, chasing lead after lead. Hell, even when you seemed to have time to breathe, something else always came up. 

“I never make good grades in school. When I get out, I act like a fool. I come in the party and cause a commotion. Yeah, I’m smooth they call me lotion.”

JJ cracks up with the others, breaking his beatboxing rhythm, as Pope loses his verse. He has a more than comfortable buzz going: energised by the beer and mellowed out by the weed. JJ thought he could handle his stuff well until he met you. This was the first time in a long time the two of you had properly partied together, outside of sharing a joint or doing edibles on an evening. You were about seven cans deep, one joint smoked and two lines of coke snorted. Your hair, now red, was damp from the hot tub; your nose ring sparkling in the disco ball’s reflecting light. JJ tried to keep his attention on the gang but no matter what, his eyes kept running back to you. The bikini top you’re wearing is truly a cruel design. Whoever invented it hated anybody who admired the female figure: they designed it to torture them. The liquor certainly didn’t help the situation, nor did your knowing glances and sly smiles. 

"Think Kanye might have some serious competition there," you sardonically quip.

“Alright, alright, let’s hear it then,” Pope challenges, turning the focus to you. Everyone ooo’s dramatically as you laugh. You take a hit of your freshly rolled joint and shrug. As you rise out of the water, moving to sit on the outer edge of the hot tub, the gang erupts into cheers. JJ's mesmerised by the way the droplets of water race down over your tits, trickling down your chest.

“Okay, alright, well someone gimme a beat, at least,” you say. 

JJ’s happy to indulge. Laughing, you bop your head along and try to follow. 

“I failed the first grade in school, but my teacher told me I’m a cool dude. The kids in the playground scattered, cause my bars would leave them battered–”

The gang whoops and you crack up, trying desperately to stay on track. JJ’s trying desperately not to stare at your chest and lose track of his makeshift beat. 

“When I fuck they call me lewd, cause I get freaky when I’m in the wrong mood. My boy never seems to complain, but his dick might be in some pain.”

JJ practically chokes on his laughter. There’s a symphony of cheers and jests and (in Pope’s case) groans from the others, and you throw your hands up in surrender. 

“Y’all asked for it! I’m jus’ saying!” you giggle, sinking back into the water. You take another hit of your joint and wink across to JJ. His dick twitches uselessly in his swim shorts as you do so. Such a fucking tease.   

“You two were made for each other, Goddamn,” Kiara chuckles.

The pair of you laugh it off but JJ feels his heart stir at the notion. Maybe it’s the weed talking or the alcohol intoxicating his thoughts, but the more time JJ spends with you, the more he’s certain that you two were meant to find each other. There’s no other explanation for it. You were an entire world in one small human being, filled with stories and secrets, some of which he might never know, but most he’d spend his life wanting to. 

As the night stretches on and the drinks continue to flow, the mood simmers down from a bubbly celebration to an almost sentimental reunion. The hot tub has been abandoned as the mosquitos began to gather and the air began to cool, and JJ was sick of hearing you and Sarah drop hints about how you were “turning pruney.” So now you sit in the deck chairs with Kiara and Sarah and John B, watching JJ and Pope wrestle. Grappling on Pope’s upper arms, JJ tries to get the upper leg. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, go for the leg,” he lightly encourages his lesser violent friend. With that, Pope tackles JJ onto the floor. He hits the ground with a gentle smack. “You got a new technique now, huh?”

Pope rises in victory, pretty drunk, arms in the air. JJ laughs, sitting up to notice a beer extended out to him in offer from you. He takes it with a grin, having two large swigs. 

“I’m done. I’m out of here,” Pope announces to nobody in particular, walking away from the campfire. 

“You want a round two?” 

“Yeah, I think I’ll take my losses,” Pope replies. JJ begins wandering back over to you with a shrug just as Kiara suddenly gets up from her seat. She flashes Sarah some kind of look that girls must track better than boys, as Sarah and yourself gape at her. 

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Way to be discreet!” JJ hollers after them. When he steals Kiara’s chair, sitting beside you, you’re still giggling. 

“Okay, am I just oblivious or did nobody else notice them vibing on each other?” you wonder, looking to the others. 

“Dude. Seriously?” JJ sniggers. 

“I didn’t notice!”

“How could you not– You know what? It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. Only one of us needs to be the love expert here,” JJ reassures, stretching his arm out over the back of your chair in what he thinks is a rather suave manner. You snort, gently brushing it off. 

“Love expert? Uh-huh. Sure, kiddo.”

“Kiddo,” John B mutters, amused. 

JJ scoffs, grinning at you. “Oh really?”

“Yep,” you return, not quite sure what you’re arguing over now. JJ decides to put an end to it by squeezing the sides of your exposed stomach, tickling your skin and causing you to squirm. As he does so, John B mumbles something about being out of beer. Sarah follows him and leaves you and JJ in the company of the music, the cicadas and chickens. 

“Thought you danced,” JJ says, referring to the music, thinking back to the night at the kegger. 

“I might do later.”

JJ just nods and the two of you smile at one another, the playfulness of the moment easing away the same way the arousal had earlier in the hottub. 

“You’re so handsome,” you quietly tell him. "My good looking boy, huh?"

JJ chuckles, looking down, bashful whenever you threw compliments like that at him. He could handle ‘sexy’ or ‘hot’ rather well, took them in stride, but words like handsome were like flakes of gold being sprinkled in his hair. They felt valuable, especially when they came from your mouth. Not always the best with words, JJ thanks the self-medication for what falls out of his mouth next. 

“You’re the prettiest Goddamn thing on this planet.”

You’re visibly stunned and JJ wants to high-five himself. Giving him a coy smile, you lean your head back against your seat, staring into the star scattered sky. 

“God, I could just stay here forever,” you sigh. 

JJ mimics your actions. He traces the stars and tries to see if he can make constellations of your face. He glances at you and notices how they reflect on your eyes, as if scattering diamonds into your irises to make them shimmer. Your skin is kissed amber by the fairy lights strung in the branches above. Everything just makes you glow: ethereal. A foot kicking his own snaps JJ out of his lovesick stupor. A rather amused John B smirks knowingly down at him. 

“It’s creepy to stare, man,” John B joshingly berates. 

“He does it all the time,” you mumble. “That’s why I asked him out.”

Sarah laughs at that and you crack up too, but before another conversation can begin, your laughter dies down and your brows furrow. 

“What was that?” John B asks, as if reading your mind. 

“Your chickens?” JJ wonders, having heard nothing but the incessant clucking of the birds. 

“It sounded like a car door,” you mumble. JJ, distracted, begins to cluck like a chicken, hoping to lighten the mood, more drunk than he thought he was, but your hand presses over his mouth to silence him. You rise to your feet slowly and JJ decides to follow. He squints into the distance. 

“I think someone’s here,” John B mutters. 

“Up the trees. Quickly” you instruct, fast to take action. 

You shut off the music as Sarah hurries to put out the fire. JJ decides to help her, tossing handfuls of sand atop of the flames. He looks to the tree to find you already a decent way up. He stands by the bottom of the other tree with John B to help give Sarah a boost, aware of the fragility of her stitches, and then lets John B go up before himself. He settles on the same branch as you, a hand protectively settling on your waist. You’d already taken a rather reckless course of action in Charleston with Renfield, trying to tackle the taser from his hands to buy all of you more time to run. In case you felt the urge to drop from the trees in some surprise attack, JJ could now hold you back. 

Sure enough, only a couple of minutes later, Rafe and Barry creep into the backyard. JJ feels you stiffen and he tightens his grip just slightly in reassurance. They didn’t know you were in the trees. God bless your quick thinking. Barry makes his way into the house, gun raised and ready, whilst Rafe studies the spots you’d all been relaxing in only moments prior. 

“Where the hell are you?” he mumbles to himself. 

None of you speak. None of you dare breathe let alone move. JJ looks to John B and Sarah, who look just as troubled as he feels. Rafe was unpredictable. Unstrung. And it was easy to assume that JJ was not on Barry’s nice list, that was for sure. As they sit and lie in wait, praying not to be spotted, Barry and Rafe seem to decide that nobody’s home. As he’s about to take a sigh of relief, Rafe fires the gun up into the trees. His heart jumps and his chest heaves. The bullet ricochets off the trunk of the tree near his back. You flinch in JJ’s hold at the gunshots and the shock nearly has you losing your balance. JJ quickly shifts his hand higher up your side, leaning as close to you as physically possible to whisper in your ear. 

“I got you,” he reassures. 

Barry thankfully ushers Rafe away at that point but none of you dare move until you the car is long out of sight. Sighing, you relax against JJ and him against you. It was ironic how the two of you were no strangers to violence and yet, the same spark of fear was alight anytime either of you were faced with it.  

You see, the same way ‘I love you’ didn’t need an explanation, neither did yours and JJ’s homelives. JJ never intended to introduce you to his father and he never met yours. More times than not, you’d meet and hang and sleep at the Chateau. If you spent time at one of your two house’s, it was when it was empty. The cuts and bruises that would appear on either of your bodies never came with questioning. Somehow, someway, the two of you knew how and where. You’d soundlessly clean them and console the other and the whole thing would be as forgotten as a terrorist attack: over, in the back of the mind, but never fully erased. The anger JJ felt whenever he saw you after you’d had a run-in with your father was different to that which he felt when he had a run-in with his own. Deeper, darker, more vengeful. One night, it reached its crux. 

JJ wakes up with a start. At first he isn’t sure what snapped him out of sleep. Then, he hears it again. A faint creaking in the floorboards from the main body of his house. His house that he now lives in alone. What if his dad came back? JJ gets out of bed dressed in nothing but a pair of sweatpant shorts. He slowly picks up a spanner that’s laying on his bedroom floor, ditched after a day trying to switch out the deck of his skateboard, and pushes his door open carefully. He slowly inches down the almost pitch-black hallway. The only light is that from the window: moonbeams that shine through the glass. 

At the sight of your silhouette, JJ lets out a heavy sigh. The spanner falls to the ground with an echoing thud. 

“Jesus Christ, you scared the crap outta me,” JJ says with a relieved laugh. He makes his way across the room to you but his smile fades when he notices how stiff you are. “You a’right?”

This close, he can begin to make out your face through the dark. It’s haunting.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” JJ breathes, horrified.

Dark bags sit under your eyes which are hollowed out as if you’d been lost at sea, a vacant stare that almost looks past him. Your lip is quivering. Small, shaky, shallow breaths come in and out of your mouth. The worst part? The blood. 

His hands fly up toward your face and your eyes clamp shut quickly as preparing for a hit. JJ freezes before he touches your skin, slowing his movements, trying to ease his own panic. His eyes scan your features, counting the injuries, trying to see the damage beneath the gore.

“What the fuck happened?”

You don’t talk. Nothing but that same ominous silence. You’re in shock. JJ’s seen it before from when he pulled over at a motorcycle crash. It’s as if the mind retreats in on itself and guards from the unpredictable. JJ swallows and clenches his jaw, trying to steal himself. 

“A’right, we, uh, we gotta clean you up,” he manages. He carefully links his fingers through yours and feels your barely tangible grip. Then he guides you into the bathroom. Lowers you gently onto the toilet seat. In his peripheral vision, he sees no sign of movement or acknowledgement as he retrieves the beloved first aid kit from the bathroom cupboard. It balances precariously on the edge of the sink as he digs about for cleaning supplies. 

JJ starts with your face. Your upper lip is busted at the edge, coated in dry blood but already beginning to scab. When you get in as many bruise ups as JJ, you learn to have a strange appreciation and fascination with the human body in how it heals. The antiseptic must sting but you don’t even blink. You just stare past him. Even before, you’d never been this detached. You might be angry or frustrated or even upset, but never absent. Never this. The blood around your eye comes from a gash just across your right brow. There’s an impressive bruise on the apple of your left cheek and a telling pink handprint that refuses to fade on your right. The fury begins to chip at JJ’s resolve.

Following your bizarre routine, JJ moves to unbutton your shirt, to check for any signs of internal bleeding, broken ribs, open cuts or ugly bruises across your upper body. The minute his fingers brush your sternum, your hands fly up. He’s not even sure how he winds up on the floor and it takes a moment to piece together the seconds and register that it was you. Frowning, thoroughly alarmed, JJ’s head shoots up to find your chest heaving. You make a noise as if you’re crying but no tears fall. His lips part in horror and his mind scrambles for any explanation other than the obvious. 

“Woah, woah, woah, hey,” JJ hurries, rocking onto his knees and planting his hands reassuringly on yours. Your whole body is shaking. “It’s a’right, yeah? Jus’ me. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

Your eyes clamp shut and the tears begin to fall.

"You're safe now."

After a trembling inhale, you begin to sob. Heartbroken, hideous, harrowing sobs. JJ feels tears swirl in his waterline at the sight and sound. He knew you better than anyone - better than the Lord himself - and to see you so far from who you are was like seeing someone’s body turn inside out. Unsure of what to do, he wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace and lets you fall into him.

You just cry. 

Later, JJ sits outside the bathroom. His back is pressed against the door. Inside, he can hear the slosh of the bath water from time to time when you shift. He meddles with the rings on his fingers. His teeth gnaw on his lower lip. JJ assesses his options. He knows the “right” thing to do and he knows the “wrong” thing to do, and he knows the one he prefers out of the two, even if he shouldn't. His eyes flit over to the pile of your clothes that he’d taken out the room with him, back turned to give you privacy when you changed (as if you hadn’t given your body to him countless times before). The blood stained shirt. The shorts that had a telling rip at the crotch, the zip practically shattered. The missing panties. His throat turns thick and his eyes clench shut, forehead falling down against his clenched fists. He tries desperately to breathe through the anger. Before he can reach any sort of conclusion, he hears you get out of the bathtub. A few minutes later, the twisting doorknob prompts him to stand. You stand dressed in his clothes and offer him a small smile, and JJ feels his whole body sigh with relief. 

“How you feelin’?” JJ asks. 

You shrug, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Exhausted.”

“Anything hurting still?”

“No,” you say. You walk past him and into his bedroom and he follows. Climbing onto his bed, you wrap yourself up on his side in the blankets. JJ heads to the kitchen to grab some water and pain meds before coming back and joining you, sitting against the headrest, unsure whether to touch you or not. You seem to answer the question for him. You cuddle into his side and nestle your head against his upper chest. His hands coil safely around your body, holding you close, and he plants a kiss on top of your head. Then he finally speaks. 

“We need to go to the cops.”

You sigh and close your eyes. “JJ, no–”

“You don’t even gotta press charges but they have to know.”

“I don’t want to do that.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because you know how it is, JJ,” you argue, sitting up to face him. “It’s my word against his and he never technically did anything. They’ll take one look at him and listen to my story, and then probably get me to recount it a million times over to a million other strangers. To a million other men. It’s humiliating and it’s pointless and I don’t want to do it.”

“It ain’t pointless and there’s nothing humiliating about it,” JJ insists. “You’re the victim here–”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap, glaring at him. 

Sighing, JJ closes his eyes and clenches the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his cool. The last thing you need tonight is another fight. Besides, it’s not as if you’re wrong. JJ trusted the police as far as he could throw them; he didn’t doubt that they’d be useless. But the thought of you going back to your dad and for him to get away with what he did…JJ didn’t know what other option you really had. Your fingers gently wrap around JJ’s hand, easing it away from his face, coaxing his eyes to meet yours. 

“Two more months, JJ.”

He sighs again but you’re quick to continue. 

“Two more months and I’m eighteen and he isn’t my legal guardian anymore! I don’t have to deal with the whole rigged court system or with a foster home - I can just be rid of him for good.”

“Two more months? You think I’m gonna let you go back there for two more months after this?” JJ scoffs, eyeing up your injuries. His stomach churns and jaw ticks at the thought of what could’ve happened if you hadn’t managed to get the upper hand. You sigh and look away. 

“I don’t know…Maybe he won’t do it again.”

“If he does it once, he’ll do it again,” JJ mutters. He remembers having the same thought the first time his dad hit him. It was an accident. He apologised. He didn’t mean it. By the end, JJ was on cloud nine if he went a week without a smack. But your situation was somehow even heavier than that. His stomach churns again. 

“I don’t know,” you repeat, sounding nothing short of defeated. 

JJ just tugs you back against his chest. You trace a finger over his chest in swirling patterns as if personifying the state of his mind. Maybe you could live with JJ. I mean, you practically already did. The two of you were rarely away from the Chateau these days, and once you were eighteen - just as you said - your dad had no hold on you. Maybe if the Pogues could get the cross then JJ could finally afford that big pastel blue house for you, with the wrap around porch, and guard dogs to sick ‘em anytime your dad came within a fifty mile radius of you. Maybe–

JJ’s eyes widen. It hits him. His best idea to date. 

“Marry me.”

JJ isn’t sure he actually said it for a while because you don’t speak. You don’t even move. 

“What did you just say?” 

“Marry me.”

You immediately start to laugh. You shake your head against his chest. “Jesus Christ. Did you slip and hit your bed whilst I was in the bathtub?”

“I’m serious. Marry me,” JJ says. Maybe it’s his tone that cuts off your hysterics. You quickly break out of his hold again and look at him, studying his expression. Your eyes widen. 

“Holy shit, you really are serious,” you mumble. 

“Marry me,” JJ repeats as if those are the only words he knows how to say. 

You laugh, bewildered, “JJ, we’re seventeen.”

“So.”

“So? So…We’re seventeen!” you cackle. “We can’t get married JJ.”

“Who says?” JJ shrugs, beginning to smile. You haven’t said no. 

“Um let’s see,” you mumble, lifting your fingers to count. “The court…The law…Our parents.”

“We don’t have parents.”

“Maybe not good or present ones, but we still have legal guardians, JJ.”

“Those are all technicals–”

“-Technicalities-”

“-Whatever. Point is, those are irrelevant,” JJ says, wafting it away. His hands grab yourself in a tight clutch. Your mouth remains perfectly parted, slightly upturned at the corners. It only pushes his smile. “I know you’re it for me. I ain’t good at all the sappy-dappy-love-crap, but I’ve been in love with you since I was a kid–”

“--JJ–”

“--And I don’t want anybody else! Ever. We’re a team, ain’t we? Hunt for gold together, spend our life together.” When you study him in silence for a while, JJ tags on, “I mean, I’m gonna do it eventually so I might as well do it now.”

“That is insane reasoning to propose, JJ,” you laugh, shaking your head at him. Even if your face is half beaten beyond recognition, JJ knows you’re the most beautiful girl on the planet. The moment he knew he shared the same earth as you, JJ wanted you to be in his life. And you still haven’t said no. 

“I love you,” JJ says, plain and simple. Shaking his head slightly, he grins. “P4L, right? I mean, we really got nothing to lose here.”

You stare at him and scoff, quiet and underbreath, almost fascinated. Your eyes slip shut and JJ begins to grin because he knows. A deep, heavy sigh, and you laugh again. 

“God help me, I must have gone crazy,” you mutter. Your eyes open into his. Then you smile the prettiest smile the world has ever seen. “Yes. I’ll marry you, JJ Maybank.”

JJ wastes no time in connecting his lips with yours. You giggle against them, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, holding him closer and closer. When you break apart, barely a hair’s width between your damp lips, you smile as you speak. 

“My good looking boy.” 

Five Years Later

Whiskey isn’t quite caramel. No, it’s more tawny. More gingerbread coloured, especially in this hue, illuminated by the crappy bar lighting hanging above JJ’s head. His knuckles knock against the side of the cool glass, mesmerised by the sound of his metal rings clinking, distracted in his drunken haze by the bobbing of the three ice cubes in the liquor. 

“JJ.”

His head sluggishly lifts at the sound of his name. He comes face to face with the long-time bartender, Corbin. 

“It’s last orders, man. You wanting a refill?” Corbin asks. 

JJ sighs and shakes his head. “Nah, I better not. What time is it?”

“It’s nearly one,” Corbin replies. 

JJ nods then repeats, “nah, I better not.”

“You wanting to settle up for that now?” he wonders, glancing down at JJ’s half full drink. 

JJ swallows and rubs tiredly at his eyes. “I, uh…Just put it on my tab for now, a’right?”

Corbin sighs. “Look, JJ. I’ve known you a long time so I’ve been letting it slide but this tab’s starting to stack up. You gotta pay it sometime.”

JJ shoots him a glare; his emotions twisted by the alcohol. “And I’m gonna. I just…Things are a lil’ tight right now so I can’t settle it just yet.”

Corbin decides not to push the topic. He does as he’s asked and adds JJ’s three whiskey on ice beverages to his resume-like tab. When he leaves to square things away at some other end of the bar, JJ glances around the room. 

Corbin’s bar, Grub Bucket, hadn’t changed in anybody’s lifetime. JJ could recall coming out here as a kid on the hunt for his dad and sneaking past the intimidating bikers out front, weaving through the drunken fools of Kildare to find his dad almost paralytic near the pool tables. The smell was the same too: musty and beer drenched and tired. JJ wonders if he finds the smell comforting - nostalgic maybe. At the sight of several patrons leaving through the door into the pitch-black night, JJ remembers himself and the time, and he downs the last of his drink. The bitter sting is soothing on his tongue and eases the ache, and it goes down easy like a crisp, cool apple juice back in grade school. 

He staggers out the bar and stumbles the familiar route home. It’s as engraved in his mind as the journey to the shops or the docks. Home appears through thick overgrowth. It’s a piece of shit trailer, obvious even in this lighting, that’s discoloured and dirty on the exterior. There are weeds that protrude from below the body of the home and gas canisters lined beside overflowing trash cans and countless fishing, surf and mechanic crap. The recycling bin is always full of empty wine bottles and cans of beer. 

The stairs creak in concern as he makes his way up them. The third is broken in the middle and even intoxicated, he has the sense to avoid it. A squeaky door that needs the entirety of his body weight to open, his shoulder slamming into the upper left, and the instant smell of damp desperately trying to be combated with some cheap candle from Goodwill. 

There’s few rooms in the trailer. A kitchen with about one empty counter to cook, that shares the same area as a living space. A couch that JJ found abandoned on a roadside sits before a crackly television, divided by a thrifted coffee table. The World Atlas was proving useful keeping the latter piece of furniture upheld on the far right leg. The area is littered with belongings, tight on space and storage. Trash takes up a lot of space too, as much as he hates to admit it. A strategically placed poster-print conceals a concerning dent in the wall that may signify rats at one time had made this trailer their home. That could explain the steal that JJ got it for. 

The bathroom is where JJ’s legs take him next. Here, with the door closed, he can turn on the light. It takes three flicks of the switch and the buzz that it generates might remind a war veteran of a looming grenade. The shower is permanently discoloured and runs warm perhaps once a year, so JJ skips that stage. Instead he looks into the dirty mirror. His exhausted face greets him through blurry vision and speckles of toothpaste. A well-used toothbrush is rushed around his mouth and he spits into a dusty sink that drains frustratingly slowly. A quick piss and JJ is all washed up. 

He’s careful not to turn on the light when he makes his way into the bedroom. By now, it must nearly be two in the morning. The boots come off first, followed by his shorts, socks and shirt. Clad in only boxers, JJ can make out the bed through the dark and slides under the covers. His eyes slip shut and his body tries to relax.

“It’s late.”

His eyes clench shut. Shit.

“I, uh, didn’t know you’d still be awake.”

“I was waiting up for you to come home,” comes your mumbled response. JJ looks over to you: your back facing him as he lies on his. 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Hard not to when your husband’s out until two in the morning without texting or calling.”

 JJ’s brows knit together. “My phone died,” he mutters. 

“Convenient.”

Sighing, JJ runs a hand along his forehead and rubs tiredly at his eyes. “Look, I’m really fuckin’ tired, a’right? It’s been a long day and I just wanna–”

“You’re tired?” you hiss, turning over and sitting up. Fuck. “You’re fucking tired, JJ? Where the hell where you!?”

“Out!”

"Oh! Out! God, I don't know why I didn't think to check there!" you tunefully say.

JJ grits his teeth. The exhaustion and booze make a sticky concoction, flammable to the smallest fuse. “I don’t have to fucking give you a play by play of what I’m doing. I’m my own fucking person.”

“Okay, sure, JJ. You can finish work at five in the Goddamn afternoon and not reappear until two in the Goddamn morning without a text or call. I mean, what a fucking evil wife I am for worrying about you being - oh, I don’t know - dead in a ditch somewhere or sat in a fucking cell. I mean, I’m just bitter to the bone.”

At your spiel, JJ sits up in bed, propping himself up with his elbows. “Yeah, it’s such a fucking Goddamn surprise that I’m in no rush to come home when this is the fucking greeting I get!”

“Don’t come home at two in the morning and you won’t get this type of greeting!” you screech back. 

The two of you meet eyes through the dark. Your faces are contorted in anger: brows tugged close together, lips downturned in ugly frowns, tired eyes narrowed at one another. 

“Jesus Christ - what? You need me to give you a text every two minutes or some shit? Tell you where I am every two seconds?” 

“Right, yeah, that’s what I said, JJ,” you argue, gesturing violently with your words. “I said, ‘send me a text every time you take a breath of air’. No, no, you’re right: I said, ‘put a tracker in your fucking penis and then maybe I know where it’s going’.”

He studies your face a moment and scoffs, shaking his head. “I don’t know what you’re try’na incinerate there but–”

“It’s insinuate - you fucking idiot - and I think you know damn well what I’m referring to,” you spit. Your voice sounds almost as bitter as the liquor JJ was drinking peacefully only an hour ago. Maybe he should have just stayed at the bar. 

“Go on, then. Say it with your fucking chest, then,” JJ urges, sitting up in bed too. 

You glower at him. “Pearl.”

“Oh my fuckin’...” JJ can’t help but laugh right in your face. It’s ludicrous! It only seems to worsen your rage, not that JJ could care at this moment. “You really think I’m out hooking up with someone? Is that seriously what you’re accusing me of?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” is your all-to-quick reply. “You spend all night in a bar and come home smelling like booze. Wouldn’t be surprised if you were hooking up with her, or some other whore. I mean, who else would want you?” 

JJ can’t think clearly through the blinding rage. His vision goes blurry and this time, it isn’t from the alcohol. There’s the distant fear that he might crack a tooth from how tightly he’s clenching his jaw. He feels his fist close up around the sheets. 

“You better think really fucking hard about what you just said to me,” he lowly says. 

Your brows raise. “Is that a threat?”

JJ doesn’t reply. Decides it might be best not to. It’s hard to side with that thought process though because a smirk slowly but surely begins to sneak onto your face. There’s this viciousness in your eyes that JJ used to be unable to recognise, before El Dorado. Before life got somehow all the more real. 

“Starting to sound like your dad now, huh, Maybank?”

Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything. Don’t say–

JJ leans in close to your face. Can feel your heavy breath on his cheeks. See the emotions swirling like a thunderstorm in your eyes. The thin veil of tears in your waterline. He hardly recognises his own voice. 

“I wish I was fucking some whore. Anything’s better than being in this bed with you.”

Your whole demeanour shifts. It’s palpable. The room is hot and suffocating. The words hang in the air and JJ hates himself for not being sure if he even wants to take them back, even if he doesn’t mean it. He just wanted you to hurt. And what an awful thing to want. 

JJ hates this. He hates how the two of you know just the right buttons to press and just the right things to say to make the other furious. To break one another down. When two people fall in love, you learn everything about the other. It’s not just the intimate details - how somebody looks naked, the way they react to every touch, every kiss, their favourite song, the way they talk when they’re drunk - but also the sensitive stuff. The traumas and the skeletons and the insecurities. 

“Get out,” you spit. 

“Get out?” JJ laughs incredulously. 

“Get out! Get the fuck out of this bed now,” you seeth. JJ doesn’t move. As if possessed, you grab at your pillow and toss it at him. “Get out!” Toss your book too. 

JJ dodges them, bats them away. “You’re fucking psycho! Do you fucking see yourself!” he shouts. 

“Get out! Get out, get out, get out!” you scream. 

But JJ doesn’t. He should. In fact, he should go for a walk and let the two of you calm down, and then discuss it in the morning with a civilised conversation, just as you would do when you were both younger. But JJ was never the one to make the right decision. Instead, he feels himself smile. Then, he settles leisurely on his back, snuggling into the sheets like a child returning home after a long day out. His body aches from a hard day’s labour at the docks, stomach empty save for the booze. Even with his eyes closed, JJ can see your glare. It’s ice cold and sends shivers along his spine. 

“Fuck you, JJ,” you mutter. 

Another rustle of the sheets, the mattress dips, heavy footsteps, a slamming door, and you’re out of the room. The door shivers in the rickety frame and the noise seems to echo around the room. JJ slowly opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling. He runs a hand along his jawline as he sighs, feeling the ever growing stubble that he can’t find the motivation to shave. He used to, wanting to keep up appearances for the job market, but it seemed futile now. Pointless. The feeling of satisfaction that came from winning the fight was fleeting, passing as quick as a poppers-buzz. Now, the ugly emotions seep in as JJ wallows in the lonely silence. The emotions JJ usually wards off with whiskey and beer and weed and cocaine. The guilt and the shame and the self-loathing. The sympathy and the heartache. The awful things he said to you bounce around in his head like a ping pong ball. The awful things you said to him bury deep in his heart.  When he closes his eyes again, trying to mellow out his breathing and drift off, he can hear your sniffles through the door.

You never used to hide your tears from him. 

Sighing, JJ clamps his hands over his face and fights the urge to scream. Why does he do this? Why does it keep happening? Why can’t you both just stop? 

After thirty minutes, sleep is nowhere to be seen. The sniffling has stopped in the other room but JJ doubts you’re asleep either. Soon enough, he can’t stand the internal struggle anymore. He gets to his feet and makes his way into the living room before he can lose his nerve. 

You’re lying on your side on the sofa, bundled up with a moth-nibbled blanket. JJ can’t see your face from here but he knows you’re awake. Dating you for five years meant he learnt to pick up on things like that. Walking over, he comes to the back of the sofa and reaches over to gently place his hand on your shoulder. 

“You awake?” he rasps. 

A pause, and then, “yes.”

“Come to bed.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve got that stupid interview tomorrow and you’re going to hate yourself for sleeping on this fucking thing in the morning.”

And I can’t fall asleep unless you’re next to me. 

“You remembered I have an interview?” you mumble. 

“Course,” JJ mumbles back, as if embarrassed that he remembers something his wife told him. “So come to bed.”

You don’t say anything else. JJ has a million things he could say. They’re things that he should say and that he wants to but it’s like his mouth is soldered shut. He can’t let them pass as if they might incriminate him. Oh no! She’ll know I care about her! Instead, he swallows and removes his hand, sighing as he turns to return to the bedroom. 

“Well, I’m going to bed,” he says. Again, there’s no response. 

Only after JJ has closed the bedroom door does he hear movement from the sofa. By the time you reappear, he’s already in bed, curled up on his side, facing the wall. You make your way to the right of the bed. There’s the thud of the blanket joining the floor before you sneak under the sheets and shuffle about until you’re settled. 

The two of you don’t cuddle that night just like you don’t most nights. Neither of you apologise. Neither of you say a word. But just as JJ’s about to drift off, he feels the faintest press of your lips to the back of his bare shoulder. 

When JJ wakes up in the morning, you’ve already left. His head hurts the moment he opens his eyes. Groaning, he tosses the sheets off and sits up on the edge of his bed. JJ’s aching back was a common companion to his life since El Dorado. He’d fallen funny on the adventure and seemingly fucked it up for life. Lifting heavy cargo at the docks probably didn’t help much but what choice did he have? You both needed the money desperately. 

The hunt for the gold went sour. Not only did Ward Cameron steal it and use it, but Rafe stole the cross and melted the timeless relic down into chunks. At first they thought El Dorado - the timeless mystery - was a possibility. JJ believed it too. In trying to get himself and John B there, he’d got himself in pretty hot water back in Kildare. That and the eviction notice plastered to his dad’s house meant that coming back home, empty handed, meant tough living. At first, the two of you persevered. You took the loss as best you could and started out on your life together. A courthouse wedding marked the beginning of your new life, gold-less but not loveless. The Pogues threw a party at the Chateau afterwards. JJ sent out an invitation to his dad at his last known address but he never showed. You never invited yours and thankfully he stayed away. Not long after was he arrested. That was a good day. You’d sold your father’s house and used that money to buy the trailer you and JJ now resided in. It was supposed to be a temporary spot but you fell on rough times. That was almost four years ago. 

The day at work dragged on like any other. After missing one shift at the local grocers, JJ was fired and had to take the next available job to let the two of you meet rent. Now he spends his hours (nearly seven days a week) fixing up old fishing rigs. It was gruelling work: lifting and slamming and hammering and loading. Even in the September air, the summer less stifling than before, JJ works up a sweat. He doesn’t have enough food to spare for things like pack dinners so he goes off an apple during his breaks. Sometimes Pope would offer JJ some food if they crossed paths but JJ didn’t want to be a charity case. He was aware how frail the two of you looked though: having about one semi-decent meal a day. Just as the day begins to wrap to a close - the amber sun low in the sky - does Billy, his employer, come over to JJ as he’s scrubbing his hands. 

“Goddamn oil, swear to God,” he mutters under breath, scratching tirelessly at the skin. 

“Hey, JJ, we gotta talk,” Billy sighs. 

JJ looks up and wipes his hands dry on his shirt. “What’s up?”

“Look, uh…” The moment Billy clears his throat, JJ knows what’s coming. “I hate to do this, man, but I gotta let you go.”

“Dude, seriously?” JJ sighs. 

“Look, it ain’t your fault, Jay. I just…The business is going under and I can’t keep all you guys on anymore. I hate to do this to you, I really do, man. I've got your last paycheck here but you, uh, don’t gotta come in on Monday,” Billy not-so-delicately tells him, digging in his pocket and retrieving a white envelope. As he hands it over, he adds, “sorry.”

“Yeah, well,” JJ sighs, taking the money, “sorry don’t pay the bills, does it?”

Before Billy can reply, JJ pockets the paycheck and sets off from the docks towards his truck. He had to trade in his bike a few years back when the two of you married: a truck seemed more practical, especially for the plans you had. The anxiety seeps in as he starts his engine and only rises the closer he gets to home like a flood caused by a running tap in a home. Rubbing at his heart, trying to alleviate the nerves, JJ takes a breath and turns up the drive. He never used to feel this way when coming home to you. In fact, it used to be the highlight of his day. Now he just prays that he can get through the door without the two of you falling into an argument. 

You’re standing at the stove, steam billowing up from the pan that you’re stirring, and at the sound of JJ shoving his way through the entrance, you turn and offer a small smile. It seems like an olive branch for last night. 

“Hey,” you say. 

“Yo,” JJ hums, closing the door. He heads for the pile of envelopes on the cluttered breakfast bar and flicks through them. Every FINAL NOTICE makes him cringe. One is already open and he slips the letter out, but you speak before he has a chance to read a word. 

“We got a week until they shut the gas off,” you tell him. 

“Well, I got the solution to that.”

JJ tries his best to smile as he holds the envelope up. Gasping, you abandon the stove and grin, taking it from him and scanning over the amount. He’s ashamed by his surprise when you wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him. He doesn’t have a chance to respond; you’re back at the stove, stirring dinner, within seconds. 

“Yeah, well, that’s the good news,” JJ says. 

Frowning, concerned, you look over your shoulder to him. “There’s bad news?”

JJ can’t meet your gaze as he tells you, “I got let go.”

“What? But I thought–”

“Yeah, me too,” JJ sighs, shaking his head. He leans against the fridge and feels it shudder at his weight. The bottles of cheap wine clink together tellingly and JJ tries not to cringe. “Anyway, how’d your interview go?”

You shake your head, looking back to the pan. “They said they’d let me know in three or so days but I don’t know…They were hard to read.”

He watches you in the artificial light, your now naturally coloured hair looking almost unrecognisable in the glow. You’d stopped dying it a couple years ago because you thought it might make finding work easier. It didn’t. Two ex-convicts, one of which had arguably the worst reputation in Kildare, who disappeared for several months at a time as teenagers. No high school degree, no college degree, no qualifications or former training, and no reputable name to fall back on. JJ contemplates coming over to you and wrapping his arms around your middle, pulling you against him. He wants to dance with you in the kitchen to non-existent music and then cuddle up on the couch, sharing a joint and putting the world to right. But he doesn’t. Instead, JJ stays by the fridge. 

“I’m sure you’ll get it.”

“Maybe. You going back to the job centre tomorrow?” 

“Maybe,” JJ echos. He should. It’s hard though. It feels as though every time one of you picks yourself up and dusts yourself off, you get kicked to the dirt again. Jobs felt as unstable and unpromising as a rebound relationship. If either of you can hold down a job in the shaky economy that was the Cut on Kildare, then something in the house needs replacing, and you’re somehow still as broke as you were to start.

Neither of you bring up the argument from last night even though you should. Instead, you eat your dinner in mostly silence as the radio drones on in the background about the weather and the news. JJ’s apology lingers on his tongue but with every mouthful of his grits, it gets brushed away. It stays that way as the evening drags on. One glass of cheap red wine turns into two and three. Somewhere in the tipsy haze, the two of you find one another, naked under the sheets. His bare chest brushes against yours as he kisses desperately at your neck, thrusting into you. As his hands caress along your familiar figure, it feels as though you’re miles away. Or maybe it’s him. Maybe he isn’t the one that’s present, as if standing across the room, watching it all unfold. Your heavy breaths in his ear don’t excite him as they did before. The feeling of your walls squeezing around him doesn’t send him spiralling the same way it used to. It feels as if he’s just going through the motions. Chasing the brief wave of euphoria and distracting himself from the maelstrom of anxiety that is his mind lately. No job, no family, no future.  

“Harder, JJ,” you sigh against his shoulder, your breath warm on his damp skin.

He hardly registers your words and only responds when one of your hands coaxes his hips deeper. Something about the new angle hits JJ just right. His eyes slip shut, a groan falling past his lips as he shudders against your body. He comes rather quickly: the white hot pleasure fast as it passes through him. He lingers inside of you a moment. You lay stone still underneath him.  

“Did you just come?” you ask. 

“Yeah, I just came,” JJ sighs, pulling out of you. Sighing, chest heaving, he flops onto his back beside you. He can feel your stare the same way he did last night. As if trying to escape it, his eyes slip shut. 

“Are you fucking serious, JJ?”

“You know your body better anyway. Go to town,” JJ mumbles. He’s aware of how douchey he sounds but he feels a thousand miles away. He’d only disappoint you anyway. It feels like all he does is disappoint you. 

“Fuck you,” you mutter, climbing out of bed and heading presumably to the bathroom to piss. The door slams the same as it did last night. More arguments and JJ will have to replace the hinges. Just another thing in the house that’ll be added to the list of repairs, with the thing at the top being your relationship. As JJ works through the list in his mind, he drifts off to sleep. He isn’t sure if you ever came back to bed. You’re gone when he wakes up in the morning.  

“I don’t understand man,” John B says. “Why don’t you two just get a divorce?”

JJ’s head snaps to face his best friend. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying–”

“--John B–”

“--You guys are miserable,” he finishes, not letting JJ cut him off. Groaning, JJ shakes his head and paces away. “It’s not like divorce is frowned upon in your family! Your parents did it, hers did it - hell, mine did it too!”

“I don’t wanna divorce her,” JJ says, turning around. He takes his cap from his head and runs his fingers through his hair. It’s damp with sweat from the humid heat of the day. He’d been at his lifelong best friend’s house since eight in the morning, helping to clear up the yard and fix the jetty. Whilst unemployed, JJ may as well keep himself busy. As always, the conversation had veered into relationship territory: John B and Sarah, and JJ and you. The fight was two weeks in the past. You hadn’t let JJ have sex with you since. JJ wasn’t sure if he even wanted to. It just made him feel more confused and disconnected. He didn’t like being the reason you were upset.  

“There’s no shame in it,” John B assures. “You guys were a good fit when we were teenagers but now you’ve grown up and life’s gotten hard. That’s okay.”

“She’s it for me, JB,” JJ states. He wanders over and lovingly pats him on the back, making his way to the cooler for another beer. “I ain’t giving up on us.”

“Cool. So, you’ll just stay stuck in a loveless marriage for the rest of your life then. Awesome,” comes John B’s sardonic response. 

“It’s not loveless. It’s just…going through a rough patch.”

“A two year long rough patch?”

“It’s not as simple as ‘divorce her’,” JJ sighs. The crisp crack of the beer sounds like heaven’s gates opening. “She’s the girl of my literal childhood dreams. And things have been hard for her too. We don’t mean to fight, we just…do.”

“Denial is a six-letter word my friend. You know what else is?”

“Don’t say it–”

“Trauma.”

“JB–”

“I get it! Your dad was shitty and you’re trying to break the cycle! But maybe you can’t! Maybe there isn’t a cycle! Maybe that’s just life!”

“Look, I don’t therapise you so how about you don’t therapise me,” JJ suggests. He tosses a beer to the brown haired man. His face isn’t all that different from when they were young. The crows feet around his eyes are deeper set, as are the laughter and frown lines along his forehead. The stubble on his beard challenges JJ’s. “I’m not gonna give up on us. We just need to reconnect. I feel like we’re always at odds.”

Sighing, John B relents. He clinks his can against JJ’s in an informal cheers. “Well, I hope you’re right and you guys can figure it out. I just want you happy, man.”

Happy. JJ hardly knew the meaning of the word these days. 

He lingers at John B’s house until sunset, when Sarah returns from the hospital. She’d managed to get a spot on a nursing course and was blazing through it. She’d tried to get both you and JJ employed there too but the criminal check killed any chance. She offers for JJ to stay for dinner but he declines, saying that he should head home. The walk back is filled with unnecessary diversions. He goes to the pier where he saw you jump as a kid. He goes by the grocery store that the two of you used to shoplift beers from. He wanders along the coastline where you used to skinny dip in the dead of night. Somehow, JJ ends up outside what used to be his home. Nobody had bought it after the bank repossessed it. Sitting in dilapidation, nature reclaims the isolated structure. It’s barely recognisable to JJ. Seeing it in such a way makes JJ question if his childhood was even real. The traumatic memories feel as though they don’t fit well on this canvas: it’s too peaceful and serene. He leans down and grabs a large rock from the floor and hurls it towards one of the windows. It shatters through the glass and thuds as it lands on the floorboards inside. A small smile pushes onto JJ’s ageing face. That’s better. He continues to walk home. 

It’s pitch black outside by the time JJ makes it back. He wonders if you might have gone to bed as he walks up the porch steps, dodging the broken one, reminding himself to fix it. The house is cast in a warm glow from the living room floor lamp when JJ walks in. The kitchen has been cleaned up and for once seems almost homely. His eyes are immediately drawn to your frame, sat crossed legged on the sofa. A large shoebox sits on the coffee table, the lid off, and a stack of old VHS tapes sit in a pile to its right. There’s a bottle of open red wine and a half filled glass too. You’re looking down at something. 

“Hey,” he says, closing the door behind him. 

“Hey.”

“What’re you doing?”

You finally look up. You’d put your nose ring back in and it shines under the gentle glare of the lamp. A smile blesses your features. “I was going through the closet to see if I could sell some old clothes and found the picture box. Remember how we were gonna hang some up when we first moved here? I think we still should.”

JJ grabs a glass for himself and joins you on the sofa. You smell like soap and shea butter. He pours himself a glass of wine.

“Look,” you say, holding the picture out for him to see. He places down in his glass on the table and takes the photo from you. JJ chuckles quietly under breath. It’s of John B and JJ when they were younger; they sit on their surfboards, legs submerged in the water, hair damp, smiles brimming and big. “Cute, huh?”

“Very cute,” JJ agrees. He places it amongst the pile of scattered pictures strewn across the table and picks another out. It’s of Kiara, pulling a stupid face as she lounges outside the Chateau. Sarah throwing up peace signs. A candid of Pope and John B playing cards one afternoon. You, dangling upside down from the slats of the jetty, lilac hair barely scraping the surface of the water. 

“I like this one.”

JJ leans into you to see the picture in your hands. He smiles at the sight. One of the Pogues must have taken it. You both look about eighteen. You’re sat on one of the deckchairs that resided outside of the Chateau, talking vivaciously, hands gesturing wildly and smiling wide. JJ’s just staring at you, a lovesick smile on his young face, chin resting on his fist. For a while, the two of you sit in the drip-drip-drip of the kitchen sink, staring at the picture as if in a trance. 

“You used to adore me,” you whisper. 

JJ’s brows knit together. He looks down at you. “I still do.”

Your laugh is sad. Your eyes remained trained on the moment frozen in time. “Not like you used to. Not like before.”

“Before what?” JJ mumbles, heart suddenly heavy. 

You look up and meet his gaze. Whatever emotion is on your face makes JJ want to cry. “You know what.”

He shakes his head, his lips quivering. “That’s not true.”

“Everything changed after that.”

“It’s not true,” he says again. His hand slips up, cupping your cheek, and his body sings when you lean into his hold. “That weren’t your fault. It never was and never will be.”

“But would you still have married me,” you begin to ask, voice turning thick as the tears start to build, “if you knew? If I knew before.”

“Yes,” JJ swiftly answers. 

“JJ–”

“--You’re it for me,” he says. His forehead gently falls forward, resting against yours, needing to be closer. “Girl of my dreams.”

“Even if…” You take in a shaky breath, trying desperately not to cry. “Even if I can’t give you a family.”

“You are my family. I got everything I need right here.” 

Something between a sob and laugh shakes your body. You sniff and nod fervently against him. JJ sweeps his calloused finger across your cheek. He feels the warmth that radiates from your skin. Inhales the soothing smell that is you. Counts the smattering of blemishes and freckles and scars that decorate your skin like cracks in an antique painting. They don’t take from your beauty - they just speak to the value. 

“I’m sorry,” he hears himself say. 

It’s your turn to frown now. Opening your eyes, they shimmer with unshed tears. “What’d you mean?”

“I’m so sorry I let you marry me,” he says in brutal honesty. “This ain’t the life you deserve.”

“JJ–”

“You deserve so much more than this. More than all this scrimping and saving. You deserve your house. Your pastel blue house, with those white shutters and the porch - that damn wrap around porch - and your cats and dogs.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. Your own hands come up, cradling his face just as he has your own, and you smile dotingly up at him. For the first time in months, JJ feels as though he recognises you. JJ feels as though he recognises himself. 

“I don’t need all that, JJ,” you tell him. “That’s just stuff. Things. You said it best: I have everything I’ve ever needed right here.”

“You don’t gotta say that,” JJ gently argues. “This trailer isn’t a house, baby.”

“No, it ain’t,” you agree. “It’s a home. It’s our home.”

“Baby,” JJ sighs. His eyes slip shut, unable to look at you, feeling nothing less than a failure. 

“You remember our wedding day?” you ask him. JJ can’t help but snort. 

“Course I do.”

“Remember our vows?”

His lips can’t help but upturn as he follows your train of thought. He was always good at following your mind. 

“For richer–”

“--for poor,” JJ finishes. 

The caress of your finger along his jawline has JJ close to tears. 

“We’re gonna be okay,” you tell him softly. “We're gonna get through all this. It’s just God’s test, that's all, and we’re gonna pass it, and it’ll be okay again. I promise.”

JJ manages to open his eyes and face you. You’re smiling up at him, gazing as if he was the entire solar system laid before you, and the anxiety slips away as suddenly as winter changes to spring. 

“My good looking boy,” you whisper. 

JJ’s never been good with his words. But sometimes words aren’t needed. 

His lips find yours like a bird migrating home. You immediately hold him close to you, tilting his face with yours to deepen the kiss. His tongue brushes against yours. The taste of red wine is strangely erotic and it spurs JJ on. He sighs against you, pushing deeper as if to consume you. Your fingers slip into his hair; nails teasing at his scalp, combing through the sea salt treated strands. JJ’s hands sink away from your face, tracing along your arms, down to your waist. You sink into the cushions of the sofa on your back as JJ climbs atop. His lips map across your cheeks, along your jaw, find home on your neck and collarbones. 

“I missed you so much,” he confesses in a breath against your sensitive skin. 

The removal of clothes is like a ritual: each piece commemorated with kisses and love bites and praises. Your hands explore one another’s naked bodies as if it were your first time. Like a blind man regaining sight, JJ is in awe of your effortless beauty. The way your back arches at the trace of his finger along your sternum, down to your weeping cunt. You clench helplessly around his digits as he fingers you, slow and sensual, savouring every moan and whine. 

“Missed you so fucking much, baby,” JJ sighs against your thigh. Presses kisses against the stretch mark decorated skin, like watering tree roots. “So fucking pretty.”

“JayJ,” you croon, eyes clenched shut, a balled up fist rubbing helplessly at your forehead. 

His tongue laps at your clit, suckles at the wet, driven by the feel of your fingers knotting in his hair. You climax with a gasp, soaking his fingers and lips, overstimulated until you’re gently pushing him away and pulling him up to you. He’s painfully hard as he kisses you. When your hand softly takes hold of him, he sighs against your mouth. 

“I missed you,” you tell him between kisses. Your hand rubs at him in long, meaningful strokes, thumb occasionally teasing over the tip. JJ groans against your chest, eyes pressed shut, trying to revel in the feeling of having you so close, having you jacking him off, whilst trying desperately not to come. But you know him better than anybody else. You know when to guide him to your entrance, coating him in your slick. JJ kisses at your nipple as he sinks into you. He doesn’t feel miles away this time as he fucks you into the sofa. Doesn’t feel like he’s stranded across the room as he makes love to you for the first time in months, maybe even years. 

Your begs and pleas and praises are like words from the lord being spoken into JJ’s ears in your breathy whimpers. Harder, deeper, feels so fuckin’ good, faster. JJ’s no better, slurring anything that slips into his mind as he sinks in and out of you. So fuckin’ wet, prettiest fuckin’ pussy in the world, tell me how bad you need it. His hand holds an almost mean grip on your hip whilst his other finds your left. JJ intertwines your fingers as the two of you chase your highs, the digits slick with sweat, slipping in the hold but never letting go.

"I'm s'close," you whine, hooking your legs over his hips, driving him deeper.

"Fuck, feels so fuckin' good," JJ grunts, ploughing into you. "So fuckin' good for me."

"Please, JJ," you gasp. You're so close. JJ fucks you hard and fast. "Please, please, please..."

You come first, gasping and panting against JJ’s ear, and he follows, moaning desperately against your clammy skin. His eyes slip shut as he rests atop of you. 

JJ blinks awake, somewhat disorientated. For the first time in forever, his aching back isn’t the first thing he registers. Instead, it’s the steady rise and fall of the warm body underneath him. He slowly lifts his head to find you, sleeping soundly, still naked. He’s soft inside of you and gently slips out with a small shudder. You stir only slightly but soon drift back off to sleep. JJ gets up carefully so as to not disturb your slumber. The bathroom doesn’t feel as grimy when he goes inside to pee, and his face looks younger, lighter, refreshed, when he checks the mirror as he washes his hands. After tugging on a pair of boxers and an old t-shirt, he returns to the living room. You’ve curled up on your side, snoring quietly, and JJ smiles. How could he forget how beautiful you are? He lays a blanket over your body and plants a kiss to your hair. Then, he begins to tidy away some of the pictures. As you requested, he leaves out some that he thinks you might like to be framed, one of which is from your wedding day: the two of you laughing as you smush cake against one another’s mouths. His eyes fall on the tapes and he picks them up, flicking through them. He takes pause at one. Luke and Marie’s Wedding Tape. He stares at it like the box of Jumangi, both terrified and enticed.

JJ powers up the TV, ensuring it’s on silent, and turns on the old tape player. By some miracle, it still works. He slips the tape in and swallows the lump in his throat, and sits on the sofa beside where your head rests. You’re still dead to the world, snuggled up cosy in your blanket cocoon, and JJ’s weirdly grateful for your company as the tape kicks to life. It’s grainy at first, the picture wobbly, but soon enough the image comes to life. His dad who JJ hasn’t seen in years stands young and stupid at the altar. His mother who JJ wouldn’t know if she passed him in the street stands young and forgiving opposite. They’re speaking soundless words, smiling. JJ isn’t aware that he’s started crying until a teardrop lands on his hand. He wipes his cheek absently, eyes fixated on the screen. He watches as they dance: giggling, graceful, giddy. Just as you were the day JJ laid his eyes on you. 

Maybe John B was right. Maybe JJ did want to break the pattern. It wasn't either of your faults that you both reacted to adversity the way you did. Years of built-up anger and rage and pain with nowhere to go but within was like a boiling over crockpot of disaster. Two borderline-abandoned, abused teenagers married at eighteen? Of course you didn't have the blueprint for how to be a functional couple. Neither of you knew the definition of compromise, or backing down, or making peace. All you knew was pain and betrayal and self-defence. But that could change. It would take time and patience, but it could. JJ wanted it to. He was sick of working against you. You were a team before and you would be a team again. JJ never wanted to go to war against you, not when you were the best soldier on his team. JJ had always feared love because he feared what it would make him. Would he be like his father or his mother: resent or retreat?

As JJ's eyes sweep down to your sleeping self, he decides what he'll be. He'll be neither. He'll be himself. He'll be resilient.

One of JJ's hands raises and his fingers lovingly stroke at your hair. You don’t wake, just shift a little, and a barely there smile slinks onto your face. 

“Don’t give up on me, baby,” JJ mumbles, petting the strands of your ever changing hair. His good looking girl. “These times are hard and they’re makin’ us go crazy, but don’t give up on me. Cause I meant every word.”

For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish…

"Til' death do us part."

[lihhelsing]

steddie | 1.6k | mature | angst

cw: mentions of parental abuse (verbal)

written for @steddieangstyaugust day 21

Prompt: Please

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The second Eddie steps into the kitchen, he knows something is wrong. 

Steve always says he doesn't mind doing the dishes and Eddie has given up on arguing with him about it long ago.

He watches as his boyfriend stands in front of the sink. On any day, he would find Steve whistling to some pop song, swaying his hips to whatever rhythm he has in his head as he soaps up their dishes. 

He's usually happy when he does it. Tells Eddie it always helps. And Eddie can't quite put his finger on what's wrong but he's definitely not happy. 

Eddie walks up to him slowly, and once he's a little closer he can see Steve's shoulders shaking. It's barely there and Eddie is unsure what to do, but when he reaches his hand and touches Steve, he knows that's the wrong choice.

Steve recoils, dropping whatever he was holding in his hand with a loud noise inside the sink and Eddie pulls back.

He's not sure what's happening, but he doesn't like it one bit. 

"Hey, hey. Steve. Look at me. What's wrong baby? 

Steve turns to him and his face is red and wet from the tears spilling down. Eddie feels his inside twisting, and his mind goes straight to Dustin and the kids. 

Something happened to them, and somehow Steve knows it and-

"P-please," Steve says, so fucking small. "Please, don't be mad."

Eddie frowns, his brain scrambling to catch up. 

"Why would I be mad?" 

At first, it seems like Steve's not going to say anything but then he moves to the side and Eddie sees the sink. 

The sink is a mess. And Steve is usually a neat guy so it takes Eddie one second to adjust. And then, he sees the blood.

It's not a lot of blood, but it's definitely blood. Eddie tries not to freak out because he knows it'll only make it worse

"What happened, sweetheart?" Usually, Steve loves when Eddie uses pet names, but today? Today he almost folds in on himself.

"I broke a-a mug," Steve says and Eddie has to hold himself together, afraid of hurting his feelings with the tiniest reaction.

"That's... ok," Eddie says, hoping that's the right answer. Steve doesn't relax but he also doesn't get worse, so he counts that as a win.

"No, Eddie. I broke a mug. And it's your favorite," Steve says and Eddie nods softly.

"Is it the Garfield one?" Eddie asks and Steve's eyes widen. He nods, doesn't meet his eyes. 

Eddie actually dislikes that mug. It was his father's and he felt obliged to keep it, but he kept hoping it would break. Nothing against Garfield, but he would much rather not have anything to remember his father by. 

"Well," Eddie looks at the sink, "I'll clean it. And you can go sit in the living room and I'll be there in a second to patch you up." 

Steve doesn't move. He just shakes his head and Eddie is a little lost. Maybe his hand is hurting so he tries to grab it but Steve flinches, back hitting the sink and making a pan slide down. 

"Baby, what... what is it?" Eddie asks. He's at a loss here and has no idea what to do. If nothing works, he'll have to call Robin because Steve is clearly about to have a breakdown.

"You're mad," Steve says. And... no. Eddie's not mad. Why would he be mad over a dumb mug? Even if it was his favorite, Eddie wouldn’t be made. Accidents happen and he’s honestly more worried that Steve is hurt than anything else.

"I'm not, Stevie,” he tries to sound sincere, but it’s like Steve has checked out of their conversation. Like he’s lost inside his own head.

"I broke your favorite mug. I made a... a mess. But I'm gonna clean it up." 

Eddie shakes his head. "You'll do no such thing. You're gonna go to the living room and you're gonna let me clean it. And then you’re going to wait for me because I need to take a look at your hand, need to make sure it’s just a superficial cut."

Eddie moves again and Steve freezes. 

"No! I'm gonna clean it," he says and Eddie is starting to get tired. He wants to fix it, he wants to help Steve, but he’s not sure how. 

There’s a little voice inside his head that tells him this is not about this particular mug on this particular day. Eddie likes to think he’s a nice boyfriend. Treats Steve well. Because he does. Never did anything to make Steve think he would be mad over a broken mug and definitely wouldn’t be mad about any mess. 

Everyone knows Steve is the one putting up with Eddie’s messy ass. 

Then, like a lightning bulb, something clicks, and Eddie decides to try something. 

"Steve," he says, voice stern, and Steve looks like he was expecting it. "Go to the living room. Right now. I'll be there in a second." 

Eddie hates the way his voice sounds. He’s not being rude, just a little more firm than he would usually be with Steve. 

Steve likes soft and sweet. But this seems to do the trick. He watches as Steve’s eyes fall to the ground with a small nod and then he walks away, pressing his hands together to keep the blood from dripping everywhere.

He sighs. He feels so out of his depth right now it's not even funny. He wants to call Buckley and ask her what she thinks, but he can’t right now. Steve would definitely hear it and that wouldn’t end up well. 

Eddie gets to cleaning. He collects the broken pieces and feels like the mug is mocking him, telling him how dumb and useless he is. Can’t even help his boyfriend.

He’s not in any rush. Feels like Steve could use the quiet time to calm down. To maybe tell Eddie what’s happening and then Eddie will fix it.

But that’s not what happens.

Steve is sitting on the couch, head low as he clutches his hand. His sweatpants are stained with blood and Eddie knows he'll have to ask Wayne how to clean them. 

"Steve," he says softly but even that makes him jump. He looks up at him and his eyes are glassy and distant. Eddie fucking hates it.

"I'm sorry," he says again and Eddie sighs. He doesn't know what's happening but he has a hunch and he's going to go with it. 

"It's ok. It was an accident," he says and he can see Steve shaking his head. "Stop. I'm talking now." 

Eddie's voice is calm but firm and Steve just nods, sniffling. 

"I wouldn't lie to you, would I?" Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head. That's not enough. 

"Words, Steve. Would I lie to you?" 

"N-no," Steve says and Eddie offers him the hint of a smile. 

"Right. So, I'm not mad that you broke the mug, ok?" 

Steve nods. "Ok."

"I am mad, though," Eddie starts and he sees fear in Steve's eyes. His insides twist. He's either going to nail this or ruin his relationship. "That you hurt yourself and didn't call for me. Why didn't you call me for, Stevie?"

He says the last part a little softer. Steve's eyes are on him and this is it. Either he cracks him or fucks this up completely. 

"I... didn't want you to be mad," he says. 

"Because of the mug?" 

"Y-yeah," Steve's voice shakes and Eddie takes a step forward. "I didn't mean to, it slipped from my hand and broke, and I thought you would be mad." 

"Baby," Eddie says. It's hard to keep his stance. He wants to hold Steve and kiss him and promise him things are ok, but he needs Steve to see it first. "I wouldn't. I couldn't. You know that, don't you?" 

Steve doesn't seem sure but he nods. And it’s after a long sigh that he keeps talking, "my... dad.  He always got mad. Always yelled at me and called me stupid." 

Eddie sighs. Bingo. 

"I'm not your dad though, am I?" 

"N-no."

"Who am I?" Eddie asks and Steve looks at him and his face finally softens. 

"You're Eddie. My... boyfriend" 

Eddie smiles. "Yeah, I am. And I don't get mad, do I?"

"Only..." Steve says. He looks like a kid, afraid to get the answer wrong. "Only if I hurt myself and don't call you." 

Eddie feels his chest filling up with pride. He nods, takes a step forward, and puts his hand on Steve's face. 

"Yeah. That's right. Because it's ok to ask for help. I'll always help you, ok? I'll always take care of you, Stevie. And I'll never get mad at something like this, ok?" 

Steve's eyes flutter shut. He's calmer now. He nods and nuzzles Eddie's hand. 

"Ok, Eddie. Thank... thank you." 

Eddie caresses his face. "You're welcome, sweetheart. I got you, ok? Can I clean you up?" 

Steve nods. "Please."

God. Eddie's heart is in pieces right now. He's so sad and so angry at the same time. He wants to storm into the Harrington's house and beat the shit out of Richard Harrington. 

He remembers seeing Steve walking around in school. Hidden bruises that no one seemed to notice. But Eddie did. 

He's going to kill that motherfucker.

But not right now. 

Right now he's going to take Steve to the bathroom in their tiny apartment. And he's going to clean him up and patch his cut. And he's going to take him to bed, to cuddle him and whisper in his hair how much he loves him. 

How he's the best thing that has ever happened to him. How Steve makes him so, so happy. How he wants to spend the rest of his life with him. 

But tomorrow? Tomorrow he's going to make sure no one hurts Steve ever again. 

[mywritersmind]

UNCONVENTIONAL - LN4

summary : In which trying to make it home for thanksgiving fails and a cute british driver feels bad.

listen up : no warnings just cuteness! happy thanksgiving to all my americans <33 im thankful for YOU🫵 lando norris x american!driver!reader

word count : 1968

⋆༺

I groan out loud, dropping my phone onto the jet’s seat. “We’re stuck.” Lando sits up from his position across two seats, and frowns.

“Shit.” I look outside of the planes window, seeing the snow and fighting back tears. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not even december! Snow should not be here!” I wipe my eyes. I know Lando feels bad and I'm not making the situation worse by crying. But I’m having a hard time today because I'm supposed to be with my family.

Lando offered me and some other drivers a ride to Qatar for the next grand prix. Thanksgiving happened to fall the day before media day so I thought I could stop by my parents house and leave that night.

I never particularly loved Thanksgiving, but now that i’m traveling so much because of work, I've learned how much I truly can miss my loved ones.

Lando bites his lip as I sit back down and pull the blanket over me. The pilot informed us that we won’t be getting in the air for a few hours which means we have to go straight to the track instead of seeing my family.

I take a breath, “It’s okay. I appreciate you trying.” I hate crying in front of the guys, even if he is my friend. I hate it because it just plays into the whole emotional woman thing, and even though Lando is one of my best friends, right now I can’t help it.

Lando sits across from me, nudging his foot against mine, “How about we have thanksgiving here?” My head shoots in his direction as he puts on a small smile, “I don’t know a lot about it and I know I'm not your family… but I can try to be a substitute.”

I swallow, wiping my eyes again before I cross my my arms, “How would we even do that?”

I did not expect Lando to take my words as a competition. Still, thirty minutes later I'm sat with a full course meal spread out on the tiny table in between seats. There’s no huge turkey or array of pies, instead we have chicken wraps and fries. We have chips, popcorn, pesto pasta, orange chicken, a bagel, salad, and bread. A bottle of champagne sits next to me as Lando sits down.

His smile is wide as he looks down at the spread, “Good enough?”

“How did you…” I shake my head, laughing, “Yeah it’s good enough! Lando, this is really sweet.”

“It’s my first thanksgiving, I had to make it delicious, even if it is all airport food.” He shrugs and starts pulling things onto his plate. My legs are crossed on the comfortable seat and as I watch him pick his meal, I smile.

I bite into the chicken wrap that’s actually delicious. Lando taps on his phone before music starts playing over the speakers.

I smile at him as he chews, “So… what do Americans usually do on thanksgiving?”

I shrug and sip some champagne, “Eat, gossip, be thankful?”

“Okay! Let’s gossip then. Sounds easy enough.” Hes ridiculously committed to the bit and I adore him for it, “Did you know Franco’s signed with RB?” I start coughing, practically choking on my food.

“What!?” I scream.

Lando’s laughing now, “No I don’t actually know, I just couldn’t think of anything else.” I kick him under the table as he gasps.

“That’s evil! I got so excited.” I’m laughing with him now, our food picked apart and a mess in front of us. “What are you thankful for?”

He thinks for a moment, a curl falling into his face that makes my stomach flip a little. “Mmm… My family and friends.”

“That’s too generic. It’s thanksgiving- get deep, Norris.” He gives me a slight smirk before nodding.

“I’m thankful that the championship talk is over. I’m thankful for Chicken wraps.” He holds his up, proudly as I roll my eyes. “And I'm thankful for you.”

I’m a tad bit shocked, “For me?” I expect him to say something stupid or flirty, but he’s dead serious.

“You’re a really good person. I like being around you and for that, I'm grateful.” He raises his glass and I hit it with mine, “Now go on, brag about me.”

I roll my eyes, back to smiling humorously, “I’m thankful that I'm not alone right now.” His eyes don’t stray away from mine, “And I’m thankful for snow. Even if it’s pissing me off, it’s very pretty.”

We both look out the window in sync, the snow still falling. The runway is fully white, matching the trees and wing of the plane.

When I look back at Lando, he’s already looking at me. His face is relaxed, his freckles prominent and curls perfect. “Do you want to go?” I say suddenly as his expression turns confused.

“We can’t yet, we still have like two hours.”

A smile tugs at my lips, “I mean outside.”

He looks hesitant, “It’s freezing.”

I stand and grab my suitcase, unzipping it and pulling out my puffer jacket at record speed, “Did I mention every thanksgiving, something really random but really fun happens?” It’s true, for some reason this holiday brings out funny stories. “You’re not scared of some snow, are you Norris?” I step closer, narrowing my eyes.

He stands, grabbing his own jacket, “I’m just saying, don’t come complaining when you’re freezing and wet.”

“Me!?” I scoff, zipping up my jacket, “You’re the one who needs four layers for a sunny day.”

⋆༺

LANDO

I’m freezing my ass off but I would rather become a human icicle than tear my eyes away from her smile. She’s giggling and running into the snow, twirling around as snowflakes fall into her hair.

“Don’t slip, Y/n!” I yell after her as she turns around, the biggest smile on her face.

Her hand goes to wipe the hair that’s being blown in her face, snow falling around her, “Come catch me, Norris.”

I roll my eyes and hurry over to her as she laughs and dances around. I can’t help but laugh with her, it’s fucking contagious.

She sticks her tongue out, leaning her head back to catch snowflakes. Y/n is so perfectly caught in the haze of the snow and light peaking through the clouds that she looks like an angel.

She pokes my cheek and holds onto my jacket as if she’s about to fall. “Your nose is red.”

“You should get a job in detective work if the whole driving thing doesn’t work out…” She scoffs loudly and punches me in the arm.

Unfortunately, she’s stronger than she looks and because the ground is icy, we’re both falling seconds later.

She lands on top of me, laughing so hard that she’s crying, “Fuck! Are you okay!?”

“Like you care!” I sit up, holding her tightly still.

She laughs and plops down next to me, laying her head back and arms out. “Oh no-”

“Angel time, Norris!” She screams at me.

“I’m going to become snow!”

She doesn’t respond, just stretches her arms and legs out and waves them back and forth to make the snow part below her.

Something about her is my weakness and I honestly can’t complain when she looks so happy. I join her, my hair getting soaked and her laughs making me smile.

I make my angel in peace as snow floats down from the sky, landing on my face. I hear the rustle of her jacket as she turns her head to me, “Thank you.”

I smile softly, examining her face and the snowflakes that melt as soon as they touch her skin. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry that I'm not your family.”

She lets out a breath, “You’re my found family. That’s close enough.” her words make my heart beat faster, “Even if you are British and your first thanksgiving was on a grounded plane.”

“I wouldn’t wish it any other way. Although, next year we should try for a more friendsgiving approach. Maybe with the whole grid?” Her smile grows as she looks up at the sky.

���I'm very down for that.” As i’m mentally tracing her side profile in her mind, a voice and light comes very loud.

“You two!” I realize we’re in trouble instantly and stand up as fast as I can, slipping all over the place as the voice gets louder and the flashlight shines directly towards us.

Y/n is trying to get up with me but she’s laughing and slipping so it’s significantly harder. I grab her hand and we make a run for it, up the stairs and into the warm cabin. The door shuts behind us and I lean my head against the wall, sighing in relief of not being caught making snow angels.

Y/n is breathing heavily across from me, a smile permanent on her face as she looks at me. Her hair is wet and I'm sure mine is the same. I can’t feel my hands and I couldn’t care less.

“You look like a popsicle!” Y/n takes her hands and wraps them over mine, getting close enough that I can feel her breath on my skin.

I’d like to pretend that what happened next was a symptom of my cold state, but I’ve never been a good liar.

As soon as she looks up at me, her eyes big and glassy, I lean down and kiss her. Her lips are warm despite her cold hands gripping my own and as soon as she pulls back, I swear.

“Fuck. I’m sorry-” I didn’t even ask! God, I'm an asshole and now I'm completely stuck. Would I die if I ran outside and hid in the woods?

But she doesn’t look mad. She looks… pleased? Her hand slips out of my reach and moves to the side of my neck, “Don’t be.”

And then she kisses me. I think I blackout because I have no clue how long we’ve been kissing but I do know that I'm now completely defrosted and warm.

“You okay?” I whisper as Y/n pulls away.

She nods, “Thanks for kissing me.”

I laugh, “You’re very welcome. Thanks for kissing me back.”

She smiles again backs up a bit, fiddling with her rings, “So… was that just a thanksgiving thing or a way to warm up or…?”

I’m smiling big now, moving my hands under her jacket as she squirms because of the temperature, “I’ve been waiting for that to happen so if you limit me to once a year, i’ll be pretty sad.”

She nods, biting back a smile, “Good to know!” She slips away from me and pulls off her jacket, sitting in a seat and pulling her blanket around her shoulders.

I slowly walk so I’m in front of her again. She’s smiling at the floor, motioning me to come sit, “There’s one more thanksgiving tradition I do every year.”

She pulls out her ipad and scoots closer to me, I feel like i’m dreaming. “And that is…?”

She clears her throat, still avoiding eye contact.

“The Thanksgiving episode of Gossip Girl!” She starts rattling on about the backstories and starts the episode but i’m still stuck on her face and how her eyes won’t meet mine.

“Y/n…” I say it softly, bringing my hand to her chin and turning her face to look at me. She’s blushing. I don’t think I've ever seen her blush.

“Mhm?” She sounds like a mouse.

I brush her wet hair out of her face and press a soft kiss against her cheek, “I really like thanksgiving.” She just smiles and nestles into my side, my arm around her.

She lets me have some of the blanket and whispers, “I really do too.”

[cntloup]

RetiredHusband!Simon x Wife!Reader HCs

18+ MDNI fluff, nsfw, pregnancy

After he retires, he'd settle at home. He does most of the housework when you're at work, but you love the times you spend with him doing mundane stuff, and you'd feel bad if you left all that work to him, so you have a laundry day when you both work together, but it almost always ends with you on the washing machine and him between your legs. Or your elbows on the washing machine and him behind you. 

He's a great cook. He makes some simple but exquisite dishes. In the military, he had to tolerate the bland MREs (idk how they taste but they look awful), so when he was back home, he'd learn to make some tasty meals for himself when he was living alone. And then for you when you came into his life. Your mouth starts to water at the delightful smell the moment you walk into the house. If you mention that you've been gaining some weight because of his delicious food, he'd honestly love it. He'd constantly touch the plush of your hips and belly, lightly squishing them with his hands while kissing you. He's happy that you like his food and you're well-fed and healthy.

Maintenance and repairs. He's excellent with his hands and understanding how things work, so the moment you notice something needs fixing, he’s on it. Most of the time you don’t even notice it cause he’s already done it when you were gone. He wouldn’t let it bother you even a second. If you ever find him working under the sink or in the garage working on his car, you’re in for a show. The way his muscles flex while working with a wrench, or when he manhandles a heavy object, his dirty greasy hands, sweat dripping down his forehead and his shirt sticking to his body, his pecs and abs visible to your hungry eyes, get you drooling and squeezing your thighs together. He gets super cocky if he notices (he always does), even more than usual. 

He makes sure to always have some fresh flowers on display in the living room and your favorites on your vanity table. Sometimes he stands by the door with a flower behind his back to give it to you when you walk in. He even learns how to make flower crowns and how to braid hair with flowers from youtube videos. After a few hours of grunting and groaning in frustration when he messes up, he finally masters the art. Only for his lovely wife.

At the end of the day, if you're both in the mood and not too tired, he makes love to you while holding your hand, your wedding ring glinting in the moonlight, a pillow placed under your hips so you'd feel more comfortable and he'd be able to hit that sweet spot inside you that makes those beautiful moans which he adores tumble through your lips. He praises you throughout the whole session, soft I love you's falling from his lips and calls you "my wife" and "Mrs. Riley" while slowly rolling his hips into yours.

He always cums inside. You love the feel of his thick warm cum inside your womb, and the thought of carrying his child makes you go absolutely feral. He'd love to have a family with you, the image of your belly swollen with his child stuck in his mind as his thrusts get harsher and more erratic, grunting out how he's gonna breed you. Your pussy flutters and tightly clenches down on him as the words leave his mouth.

After you announce your pregnancy, he’s glued to your side. And more handsy. He's always got a hand on the small of your back, your belly, randomly kissing your temple and forehead. He's just so happy to have you. And now you’re having a child?! He's over the moon! He's always by your side when you need him, rubbing your back and holding your hair out of the way when morning sickness kicks in, holding you in his arms when you cry, reassuring you and softly cooing praises into your ear if you’re nervous about giving birth and being a good parent. 

If you still go to work while pregnant, he’s got everything ready for you at home. All the housework is done, your favorite food is ready on the table, bath is also ready with your favorite oils and bath salts. You won’t lift a finger at home. Not on his watch. When you walk through the door, exhausted and body aching, he’s there to carry you to bed for a massage. He'll rub the sore muscles of your feet and gently massage your swollen tummy. If he feels a kick, he’ll grin so wide and rub your belly to feel it again, but he stops if you wince in pain, mumbling “sorry” and kissing you so sweetly. He'll give you a bath, delicately washing your tired body, his hand resting on your belly and placing soft kisses on your lips in between your rants about work and what a tough day you had. He watches you with so much love and adoration evident in his gorgeous eyes while you talk, admiring you. He's just so happy to have a little family of his own :) 

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥ 

divider by @saradika-graphics

[covenofagatha]

alright alright i’m thinking dub!con modern/nonmagic au.. into something rough and/or bondage. we love the age gap. i’m leaving a lot of holes lmfao i will talk shop if you want specifics baby

finally finished omg

hope everyone enjoys

title is from Chains by Nick Jonas cause why not

Chains for your love

When you're house sitting for your neighbors Agatha and Rio, you decide to throw a party and they are not happy when they find out

Word count: 3400

Warnings: dubcon, smut, rough sex, bondage (handcuffs), vibrators, fingering, spanking, choking, threesome, might be missing one or two sorry if so, age gap (all legal)

Your neighbors would kill you if they found out what you were doing right now. 

Agatha and Rio, the couple next door, had asked you to house sit for them while they were on vacation to Cabo for a week as a favor to your mom. 

You had just graduated from high school and she said, and you quote, “you need to get your lazy butt off the couch and do something with your life or so help me.” 

So when Agatha mentioned to her that they were leaving for a while, your mom had thrown you under the bus. 

You didn’t know much about your neighbors, only that they were two smoking hot older women who were kind of crazy. You had also barely ever interacted with them, always at school or doing homework when they came over to have lunch with your mom. 

Agatha is about ten years older than her wife, with long dark curly hair and piercing blue eyes. Her fashion sense is always on point and her veiny hands do things to you. 

Rio, while pale and a brunette as well, is tall and lean, and very intense. Her hazel eyes bore into you whenever you’d come downstairs to get a glass of water, like she knew something that you didn’t. When she looks at you like that, you can’t help but squirm and wonder if you did something wrong. And yet, for some reason, you find it hot.

All you had to do while they were gone was stop by, water their plants, collect their mail, and make sure their house was in order. 

Which you did, perfectly, you might add. 

It just so happened that on the last night of house sitting, you were supposed to go to a party at your friend’s house to celebrate the end of senior year, but her parents came home early so she needed to move it. 

And you had the brilliant idea to use the giant, empty house at your disposal. 

Cue the music, lights, and drinks. 

“This is so nice of your neighbors to let us use their house!” Your best friend Wanda yells at you. 

You laugh, pretending not to have heard her over the bass, because they certainly did not. 

In fact, you think, you think they would be quite opposed to it. 

Agatha and Rio were quiet people; they didn’t like mess, especially in their house.

And this here, with Jimmy Woo throwing up in the bathroom and Natasha Romanoff knocking over a bottle of beer on the ground and two people making out in the pool, was as messy as it could get. 

You’re on your second wine cooler, feeling it start to hit, and you stumble around the living room, trying to assess the damage before the party is even over. 

It may have gotten more out of hand than you were intending it to. When you had told your mom what you were doing, you had mentioned having a few people over for pizza, and she had said that if it got out of hand, or if she heard about even one thing being out of place when Agatha and Rio got back, she would, and you quote, “ground your butt until you graduated from college.” 

You almost pointed out the irony of her wanting you to do something, but the moment you were going to, she threatened to not let you do anything for the next four years, but decided against it. 

“Here!” A bottle of beer is pressed into your hand and you turn to find Darcy Lewis standing there. Even though you shouldn’t, you take a swig and Wanda leaves to go find her boyfriend. “Cool party!” 

“Thanks!” You shout back and she giggles before taking your hand and leading you into the kitchen, where it’s a little quieter. You haven’t talked to Darcy that much, but she was in two of your classes and you know she’s going to MIT. 

“Got any summer plans?” She asks but she slurs the words. You laugh like it’s the funniest thing ever. “What?” 

You point at her, almost doubling over. “You’re so drunk!” 

She looks scandalized for a second, raises her hand to fix her glasses, and then becomes hysterical too. “So are you!” 

The next thing you know, Darcy and you are kissing. 

You’re not sure who started it, but her mouth is against yours and your tongue is in her mouth. 

You pull back, there’s some eye contact, and then the two of you crack up again and she goes outside to the patio. 

Drunken makeout accomplished and your head sufficiently spinning from the two and a half drinks now, you make it a mission to start cleaning up. 

You’ve collected half a trash bag full of cans when people start pouring out of the house, telling you to “stay in touch!” and “have fun at college!” and then it’s just you in the house. 

There’s still a lot to clean up, but you’re tired and sloshed, so you set an alarm on your phone for six in the morning so you can get up and tidy up the rest before Agatha and Rio get home. 

You pass out on the couch immediately. 

Which turns out to be a huge mistake, because when you finally wake up in the morning, your neighbors are sitting in the chairs across from the coffee table, both wearing matching displeased looks. 

You shoot up, scrambling into a sitting position, heart pounding. “What–” You furiously tap your phone to find out why the alarm didn’t go off, but it doesn’t turn on. 

Of course it died. 

Rio chuckles, leaning back and crossing a leg over the other, amused with your panic. “Care to explain what happened here last night, doll?” 

Your cheeks redden and you try to think of something that won’t get you in trouble because it seems like you are fucked. “I had some friends over,” you say, and it sounds pathetic even to your ears.

Agatha tuts and rests her elbows on her knees. “‘Some friends?’ Angel, have you seen what our house looks like?” 

You gulp and take a look around, dread sinking deeper into your stomach. The pieces of glass that no one picked up. All the cans and bottles you missed. A sweatshirt thrown onto the floor. Pizza crusts and plates scattered across the furniture. 

“I was going to clean it up, I swear,” you say, your throat suddenly really dry. 

“Oh, and,” Rio says, so cheerful for no reason. You can only imagine what she’s going to say, but she takes out her phone and taps the screen. You raise an eyebrow and she turns it to you. 

At first, you’re not really sure what you’re looking at, but then it becomes clear. 

It’s a recording of you and Darcy making out in their kitchen, the angle from somewhere on the counter. 

You lurch back on the couch. “You were spying on me?” You hiss, feeling violated.

Agatha rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Please, darling, this is our house, we can do whatever we want in it. Plus, we weren’t sure if we could trust such an immature, young thing like you and clearly, we couldn’t.” 

The jab about your age makes you angry. “I’m not that young and I’m not immature!” You say indignantly. 

“Making out like a slut with the first girl who gives you attention while drunk at a lame high school party?” Rio taunts, standing up and sliding next to you on the couch. You feel the pit in your stomach grow when Agatha does the same on the other side. You’re not sure who to look at. “Seems like something a childish brat would do.” 

“And now, we think there should be consequences,” Agatha coos, hand coming to brush a piece of your hair back behind your ear. Fear spikes through your veins. 

“Please don’t tell my mom! She can’t find out about this, I’ll be in so much trouble,” you beg and Agatha smirks. You jump when you feel Rio’s hand touch your thigh and you freeze when it slides up to the hem of your short skirt.

“So you don’t want us to tell your mom,” Rio muses, toying with the edge of the fabric. You have to bite back a moan and it becomes hard to breathe. “I guess that means we’ll have to punish you some other way for creating such a mess.” 

“What did you–” You have to stop to swallow roughly. “What did you have in mind?” 

Agatha hums lowly. “We need to make sure you learn your lesson, no matter how hard we have to beat it into you.” You whimper and pray that neither of them heard it. 

But of course they did.

Rio snickers and cups your pussy, all the air being punched out of your lungs. “God, she’s dripping, Aggie,” she says and your face burns hotter than it ever has. 

You shake your head, denying how much you actually want this, and try to clamp your legs close, but Agatha pries one open and Rio moves her fingers up and down your clothed slit. 

“We can always go next door and tell your mom,” Agatha warns and that’s all it takes to convince you. You turn to Rio, wrap your arms around her, and pull her in for a kiss. 

Immediately, Agatha yanks you back by your hair and Rio slaps you across the face. It’s not hard enough to seriously hurt, but the sting makes you gasp. 

“Bedroom, now,” Agatha barks and practically drags you off the couch and up the stairs, Rio practically cackling while she follows. 

You’re thrown onto the bed in the room that you may have snooped through a few times this week. Enough times to find all of their toys in their bedside drawer and imagine the women using them on each other. 

The same nightstand where Rio is heading toward now. You watch her saunter over, lips parting, but Agatha roughly grabs your chin and forces your mouth open with her thumb. 

“Don’t look at her,” she growls and leans down to whisper in your ear, “If you ever want us to stop, say purple.” 

The second you nod, she spits directly into your mouth. A strangled moan leaves your throat and Agatha slides two fingers inside your mouth to spread her saliva all over your tongue. You gag around them as she pushes them deeper and you feel tears pricking your eyes. She scrapes her nails against your tongue and you roll it up to flick at her fingers, not missing the way she bites her lip. 

And then she flips you over so your stomach is on the bed, hikes your skirt over your ass, and spanks you. The impact reverberates through your body and the sound echoes throughout the room.

“Fuck,” you gasp.

“A young thing like you shouldn’t be using such dirty language,” Agatha tsks and slaps you again. “That’s for kissing that whore in our kitchen.” 

Again. 

“That’s for leaving a mess all over our house.” 

Again. 

“That’s for proving us wrong when we thought we could trust you.” 

Again. 

“That’s for making us punish you the second we get back from our lovely vacation.” 

Again. 

“And that is for teasing us all those times at your house when you’d come downstairs dressed in barely anything. It’s like you wanted us to notice how desperate you were for us,” she snaps. 

You’ve dissolved into a moaning, sniveling puddle on their bed but the thought that you’ve been unknowingly turning this couple on makes you even hotter inside. 

Agatha reaches down to the crotch of your underwear and laughs meanly. “God, you’re so fucking wet, did being spanked like a slut turn you on?”

While you consider yourself a proud person, there’s absolutely no pride in the way you nod your head so hard it hurts. 

She tears your panties off and shoves two fingers in you without preamble. A loud sound rips out of your mouth and your body rocks forward with the force. She fucks you with a brutal pace and it’s exactly what you need, but then she pulls out and slaps you harder than before on the ass. You groan, absorbing the hit, and you feel yourself clench around nothing. 

You need her fingers back inside you, but she turns you back over and you prop yourself up on your elbows. 

Rio comes back into view with two pairs of fluffy handcuffs and a few other toys. “Get against the headboard,” she orders and you scramble to obey. She hands one pair to Agatha and they both make quick work of chaining one cuff to your wrist and the other to the bedside post. You give an experimental tug of both hands and while you can wiggle your arms and wrists comfortably, there’s no getting out. 

The two women come back around the bed to face you and you squirm under their direct attention. 

“What do you think we should do with our naughty little plaything?” Rio asks, tongue pushing against the inside of her cheek, eyes lighting up with possibilities. 

They fall into these roles so well and you can only imagine what it’s like when the two of them have sex. 

“I think we should fuck her until she can’t take anymore and she’s begging for us to stop,” Agatha muses with a smirk. Your breath catches at her idea. 

“I think the slut likes that sound of that,” Rio says and Agatha nods in agreement. “Maybe we hold the vibrator against her until she cries. What do you think, doll?” She raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Whatever you want, please just touch me,” you beg. 

Agatha bends over to run a finger up your thigh, watching how you shake. “Be careful what you wish for, angel.” She crawls onto the bed so she’s kneeling in front of you and once again, pushes two fingers forcefully into your dripping pussy. She’s not gentle at all, curling her fingers and scraping her nails against your insides, but it’s perfect. 

You struggle against the handcuffs, wishing you could touch her, but Rio tuts, takes off her pants and underwear, and moves to straddle your stomach, blocking Agatha partially from your view. 

Your breath hitches as she pulls up the crop top from the party last night and lowers her wet cunt onto your abs and lightly grinds. Her head falls back and you think you could cum from the feeling of her against you like that.

And then she starts moving faster just as Agatha does, her fingers filling you and fucking you just how you need it, and Rio’s right hand comes to clasp around your throat. You throb around Agatha’s fingers and you had no idea that would be such a turn on for you. 

Agatha’s thumb presses down so hard on your clit that it almost hurts while she keeps her merciless pace and your hips start to buck against her fingers. Rio squeezes harder and the lightheadedness you feel only drags you closer to the edge. Her nails dig into your skin and you think you might die from how good it feels. 

“Are you going to cum for us?” Agatha asks from behind the woman riding your stomach faster. 

“Yes,” you manage to choke out, seeing Rio’s delighted face on top of you. 

And then Agatha pulls her fingers out of you and you whine loudly, only for her to slap your pussy hard. 

You can hear the wetness. 

And then you can hear buzzing. 

Agatha presses something against your clit and you almost jump out of your skin. 

It’s the vibrator and you’re guessing she turned it up to one of the highest settings. It’s so intense on you and you can’t help but cry out as it sends you straight into an orgasm. Being breathless from Rio’s hand around your throat only increases the pleasure and you’ve never felt anything like that before.

You expect some relief from the assault on your clit but it never comes. Agatha holds it against you while Rio slips a finger down to her own pussy to get more direct stimulation where she needs. The woman on top of you is beginning to fall apart and it only heightens your own sensitivity. 

The vibrations have your hips rolling and you quickly cum again, and this time, you try to close your legs or scooch up the bed to get it off, but Agatha doesn’t let you. 

She rakes her nails on your leg and then you feel her roughly bite your inner thigh. You gasp and your hips buck up, almost throwing Rio off. 

Rio finally takes her hand off your throat and bends down over you so she can suck marks into your collarbones as well. 

Both their mouths on you and the vibrations still on your clit throw you right over the edge again. 

This time, Agatha does move it away from you and you can finally breathe.

But not for long, because Agatha slides a finger back inside your sopping cunt and lazily fucks you. Rio’s panting on top of you and she finally buckles with pleasure as she cums for the first time. It’s the hottest thing ever, the way she tosses her head back and seizes up, small sounds falling out of her mouth.

Once Rio comes down from her high, she gets off you, smirking at the glistening wetness on your stomach. You gape down at them as she joins Agatha to watch her fuck you. 

And then your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back in your head when Rio pushes a finger into you too. 

Fuck. 

You have both of them inside you. 

They move in sync, dragging their fingers out and thrusting back into you at the same time, and you groan loudly. 

“How does it feel, angel?” Agatha says, voice thick and low. 

“Feels so good,” you babble, sweat breaking out on your forehead as you raise your hips to meet them. 

“Does our little slut need to cum over both our fingers?” Rio taunts. 

Your head falls to the side, blissed out with the feeling of them both curling and pressing on that spot inside you that you can rarely get to on your own. Your stomach is almost cramping and your arms are aching from pulling so hard on the cuffs. “Yes, please, fuck, wanna cum, so close.” 

And then they pull out of you at the same time like they planned it and you clench needily around nothing, your hips still undulating. 

“Wait, what, why?” You wail and they start laughing at you. “No, no, come on, please.” You pull at your restraints like that will do anything and Agatha harshly slaps the inside of your thigh where she bit you earlier, and it makes you jump. 

“Stop being a greedy little slut,” she scolds. Rio walks over and unlocks the handcuffs from you so you can sit up. “You already came twice. Maybe you’ll think twice about using our house for an orgy next time.” 

“It wasn’t an orgy!” You protest and Rio rolls her eyes and grabs your jaw roughly. 

“We don’t care if it was your fucking church group,” she snarls. “You made a mess and hopefully you’ve learned your lesson.” 

You slouch, still feeling desperate. You can still feel both their hands in you, twisting and fucking you so well, and you don’t think you’re bound to forget that anytime soon. 

“Well, angel, did you learn your lesson?” Agatha presses and you petulantly nod. 

Not exactly beating their young and immature allegations anytime soon. Who cares though. 

“You better get home before your mom starts to worry and thinks we’re torturing you,” Rio says, playful glint in her eye.

“Cause that would be so far from the truth,” you mutter and Agatha swats your leg again. 

“Get out of here,” she says. “Maybe next time we go out of town, we can see if you were actually paying attention.” 

All you know is that next time they leave, you’re going to throw an even bigger party. 

[maxivstappen]

THE GREATEST — TRUE BLUE

[ part one / masterlist / requests are open ]

☽｡⋆ part 2 of THE GREATEST. he tried to live without you, but how is one to survive with a broken heart? a story based on TRUE BLUE by billie eilish. — lando norris x fem!reader (could technically be read as a stand-alone)

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 angst, hurt & comfort, hints of fluff (?) 𝄞 4.1k words

❝ Lights out, you’re not here holding me ❞

Lando had never before felt the way he did the day you left him. Seeing you walk through that door, intending to never come back to him ever again, it pained him. It took him too long to realize how much he hurt you, and now he had to suffer the consequences. He swore it wasn’t on purpose, but when his friends told him that also the third girl he had brought along since you broke up with him resembled you in a way, he stopped denying. There was no use. The guys knew, the internet knew, he knew that he wasn’t yet over you. And he thinks he never will be. You left an empty place in his heart, a place that would forever be reserved for you only and you only. No matter how hard he tried to find someone else, no one would ever be able to replace you.

The girl he brought to the first race after the summer break was long forgotten already.

At first, everyone around him believed him when he said he felt happier now without you. But the moment he went back to his old ways, the heartbreaker they’ve known for so long, they realized he wasn’t. The girls always looked like you. He only rarely smiled anymore and he couldn‘t care less about his friends‘ relationships, even going as far as faking a gag or simply not coming to hang out with them at all. He said it’s because he needs to focus on racing. They knew it was because of you. Lando was yet to tell them why the relationship ended. He’d rather crash his car and DNF in every race for the rest of his life than to ever have to talk about the night you left ever again. He felt embarrassed and bad and was so terribly regretful. Only his parents knew the whole truth. He told them with tears caressing his face just like you once did, and seeing the disappointment in their eyes, he felt his heart rip apart even more. They had loved you so much, only waiting for the day he would finally go down on one knee for you, and now he messed it all up.

If he could just go back and make it all alright. Make you feel unconditionally loved wherever you went, make you happy, keep you happy. He would change it all if he just had the chance, but he knew you deserved better. Maybe one day, he could be better again.

He is ready to give up the very thing for you that had made you leave him that night if you’d ask him to. Racing would never again mean as much to him as you, though broken up, still do to him.

He was currently seated in his McLaren, waiting for the lights to go out so he could try his very best to overtake max at the start already. He should have his mind on the track. He shouldn’t think about you, not here. But like always, he couldn’t help it. He hoped to see you in the stands once he was able to get out of the car again. He hoped to see you wave and smile at him, run into his arms and let him kiss you all over, do all the things he had failed to do so many months ago. He knew it wouldn’t happen. He believed anyway. The lights went out and the cars began moving. He tried his best, he always did, but he wasn‘t afraid to lose anymore; for what was it worth to win a race when he had faced the greatest loss of them all already?

❝ I count every tear down my cheek instead of sheep ❞

You couldn’t sleep. You could never sleep while he was racing. Especially when he was on the other side of the world, which is why you went with him last season, and also at the start of this one. Maybe you never should’ve. Long distance was hard, but you managed. He felt farther away when he was still sleeping next you every night. At least when he didn’t send you off to sleep on the couch.

You tossed and turned in your sleep, but you didn’t dare to turn on the TV. It’s been months, you should try to live without him. Without seeing him. Without feeling for him. His races had nothing to do with you, neither did the outcome. And god, if he wins and you have to watch him kiss someone else again you might as well just take his racing car and drive right into the nearest wall. He’s so far away and yet, it didn’t make you love him any less. You huffed, fear slowly building up inside of you. You knew you shouldn’t do this, you had to wake up early tomorrow and really, it wouldn’t be that bad to miss a race once or twice, but you couldn’t help it. Reaching for the remote, your eyes were flooded with tears and your heart stung like never before when you saw him driving out there. You were rooting for him nonetheless. Just months ago you had watched the races from inside the McLaren hospitality, but now? All alone in your bed, anxiously following his every move. You would never fall asleep like this.

❝ Sleepwalk, find myself on your street. Three knocks, ring the bell, then I leave ❞

And there you stood high up in the stands the next weekend, head hanging low as you didn‘t want any fans of him recognizing you, back in his territory. You tried to ignore him, you really did, but your eyes kept following him around the paddock and didn’t leave him even while he was doing the quick interviews he had to do on his way there. And honestly, it kinda felt like home. Attending the races. Being near him. Being with him. You missed it more than anything else in the world, and you felt pathetic for it. He hurt you every way he could, and still, he didn’t hurt you enough to make you hate him. And you really wanted to hate him.

You went to the race together with one of your friends from uni. You bonded over formula 1 and your shared passion for the sport and quickly became very good friends. However, she had to leave soon, moving to another city for a better starting point for her career. Hence, you decided to save some money and go to a race together for the last time; for now, at least. You still remember the way she looked at you when you told her you were with Lando. The way you swooned over him to her, and the way you cried your eyes out when it all ended. You really thought you‘d be able to spend the rest of your life with him, and now all you had left of him were memories. She‘s known you long enough to immediately notice your longing after him the moment your eyes locked onto his dark brown curls. Your heart fluttered and it made you nauseous. One day this would stop, right? Your feeling must fade at least sometime, or was this all just wishful thinking? Could you not just get over him like everyone else got over their exes and start dating someone new?

Your heart ached. He was so close, not out of reach anymore, not on the other side of the world anymore, but still, there was no way of getting back to him, the crash barriers and the grandstand keeping you away, and it felt like the end of your relationship all over again, with him on the track and you sitting and waiting patiently on the sidelines, always at least an arm length distance between you two. You shouldn’t even want to get him back. You left out a sigh as he walked into the McLaren hospitality, finally out of sight. But still not out of mind.

Your friend huffed next to you, and finally decided to try and convince you to talk to him after the race while you were still in the same place, to get closure at last. You knew it must annoy your friends and maybe even your family that it was so hard for you to just move on. They put effort into understanding, but still, Lando wasn‘t good to you, at least not in the end. Many would treat you better, but you didn‘t seem to care. You quickly shook your head no, telling her how he probably didn’t want to talk to you and that catching him after the race would be nearly impossible, with bodyguards and tons and tons of interviewers and cameras around him.

The conversation ended soon after, as the lights went out and the drivers hit the gas. You pondered for a second, reconsidering your friend‘s suggestion, a weird feeling building up in your stomach. Maybe you shouldn’t even be here, maybe you should *leave* after the race and never look back. But to your dismay, every sense in your body was telling you to stay.

❝ I try to live in black and white but I’m so blue ❞

The race went well, but he didn‘t really care. Of course he was happy, the whole team was euphoric for their two drivers who secured place 2 and 4, huge smiles plastered on their faces. Once he was done with the post-race interviews he left to go back and get some rest inside his apartment, at least until the others came around to drag him to the afterparty, slandering from one club into the next one.

Everything felt so lonely without you. His bed was cold even when he was hidden under his blanket, and the dining room was nothing more than a reminder that he wasn‘t spending his evenings with you. Watching TV got boring. Everything got boring. He didn’t even know why he lost you anymore, he didn’t know what the hell it was that made him believe you weren’t made for him, making him believe there was actually something more important than you in this lifetime. You haunted his every thought, and even though he truly only wanted the best for you, deep inside him, he wanted you to still need him as well.

He stood in front of his bathroom mirror, gently buttoning up his shirt like you used to do, always leaving the 3 highest ones unbuttoned. He missed your touch, your eyes looking up at him and your hands always reaching for his. His arms would be wrapped around your waist and his head would be leaning on your shoulder, sneaking a few, small kisses up your neck as you changed your earrings for the night, the imagine of it painted onto your fast beating heart as you stood in front of the full-body mirror in your apartment, finishing up your accessoires. You wore a blue dress that covered your thighs, not reaching your knees. It hugged you in all the right places, accentuating your features. It used to be Lando‘s favourite, but you had no other alternative, not having brought any other dresses. Your friend insisted on going clubbing anyway, desperately wanting to finally get him off your mind for one night at least.

The other drivers were loud and happy and drunk and Lando sat next to them, staring at his already empty glass. He knew how this would go. At some point, either the drivers or one of their girls would tap his shoulder, saying they have a friend they think he would really like, and if he would like to be introduced to her. He would agree so they would finally keep their mouths shut, he would talk to the girl. Maybe they would kiss if he drank enough. Maybe he would take her home. Maybe he would think about you the whole time, maybe he would accidentally call her your name. Maybe he would wake up in the morning and would be happy that she‘d left, content with it only being a one-time thing and not meaning anything.

Because, in the end, nothing meant anything without you.

He pretended to laugh at the jokes of his friends, but really, none of this was fun to him. These nights were nothing more than a constant reminder of how he used to have his fun while you were waiting for him at home, cold and sad and alone. How could he be so stupid and leave you alone all the time? He doesn’t even know why he did it anymore. He yawned, very obviously not enjoying the party. Yes, it was nice seeing his friends so happy, the mood wasn’t as tense as it was around and on the track and the people inside the night club were vivid, dancing and drinking, seemingly having the time of their life downing countless beverages, but still, the happiness didn’t reach him.

“Dude, I think your girl‘s here.“ Oscar pushed him slightly, two vodka bull in hand for himself and Lily. Lando didn’t pay him any mind and rolled his eyes, not really in the mood for talking to any girl that isn’t you at the moment. Couldn’t they just give up? He wasn’t ready yet for someone else, he didn’t even know if he wanted to be with someone that isn’t you at all. Ever. Instead of arguing with Oscar about how he didn’t want to hear from any other girl right now, he went to get another drink as well.

He pushed through the dense crowd of people, navigating through the cacophony of laughter and piercing yelling that seemed to echo from all directions. The deafening loud music blasting through his ears made it difficult to focus, and the harsh sound of glass clunking together only added to it. The colorful LED lights rapidly switched from green to red to purple to yellow in a matter of seconds, creating a dizzying light show that overwhelmed his vision. This sensory onslaught of sounds, sights, and sensations overstimulated his senses, making each step forward feel like an effort.

Finally at his destination, he waited for the waiter or waitress, he wasn’t quite sure, to get his order. He wasn’t certain what his plan was that night at all. Sleeping around or not, you wouldn’t stop haunting his mind anyway, so was it really worth it? Getting drunk and trying to make his nights feel less lonesome? Or should he just wait and really focus on his carrer again until maybe, one day, you’d come back?

He ignored the possibilty of you not coming back at all.

He let his eyes wander around the scene unfolding in front of him, occasionally making eye contact with random girls who winked at him and tried to get his attention, but he didn’t pay them any mind. Frustration started to bubble up inside of him as the wait for his drink seemed to go on for forever, until suddenly, his heart skipped a beat.

Lando was certain that in a room full of people, he would always be able to notice you first. He pondered if it was you whenever he‘d walk by a girl with the same hair colour as you, immediately dismissing the thought when he saw a face that didn’t match yours just a second later. But this time, it was different. The hair ressembled yours without a doubt, and of course he remembered the dress he had bought for you so long ago; never once had he been able to keep his hands to himself when you wore it. The height matched you perfectly as well. But it couldn’t be you, right?

Oscar‘s words replayed in his mind and he finally understood what he meant. Who he meant.

It was really you.

You tried to enjoy the party, but you really weren’t doing so well. Your friend had left you near the bar, thinking you’d be hitting it off with a guy you’ve been talking to for some time, but that wasn’t the case. he left just five minutes after to go home, asking if you’d like to come with him. You denied, but your friend was nowhere to be found, having found someone in this club herself. It was scary being alone in a club full of drunk, intoxicated people, even more so when you sensed someone staring at you from behind. You didn’t have to worry about things like that when you were still with Lando, with him always stuck to your side, a protective arm hanging around your shoulders. you shuddered at the thought, and dared to turn around to find the very person who was looking at you so steadily.

And then you locked eyes.

The world suddenly went quiet. All the chaos, the noise, it all faded into the background, no sound to be heard other than the synchronised, rapid beating of your heart. It seemed as if the only two people in that room were you and him, only the void surrounding the two of you. The LEDs turned blue, engulfing you and him, the light accentuating your features and he couldn’t move even if he wanted to, stuck in a trance of what this could mean for him in the future; what this could mean for you both. Time seemed to stand still. He wanted to run to you, to hold you, to tell you how much he missed you, but his feet felt like they were glued to the floor. His breath hitched and so did yours, all the yearning, all the longing hitting you and him at lightspeed.

You walked towards him, each step filled with electricity. The tension was palpable, his mouth agape as you stood in front of him, only centimeters away from closing the gap between you. There was so much he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to apologize, so many things he wanted to make right, but he didn‘t dare to say things first, afraid too scare you off. The last thing he wanted is for you to leave him again.

“I didn‘t know you‘d be here, thought I‘d seen Oscar but I wasn‘t sure,“ you started, stumbling over your own words, laughing awkwardly, then biting your lip right after. He noticed, because you always did that when you were nervous; you’d done it too when you broke up with him. You wanted to blame it on the alcohol, but that would be a lie, one he could look right through of. You just couldn‘t process actually being in his presence again.

“You still wear the dress?“

“It‘s, uhm, quite pretty, so yeah.“ You nodded along to your own words, gulping at the tense and awkward silence right after, looking down at your shoes, the sight of him in this light still not leaving your mind. Maybe he didn‘t even feel the same way, maybe he didn‘t even want to talk to you. Maybe you already made a fool of yourself when you made your way over to him, maybe you really should‘ve just stayed at home. But at the same time, this is what you‘d hoped for this whole time. To finally see him again.

“I‘m so sorry for what I did to you, y/n, please believe me. E-Ever since you left, I couldn‘t stop thinking about you. Not once. I tried to move on, y‘know, would probably be better for you as well, ‘cause you deserve better than how I‘ve treated you at the end and I don‘t want to have to put you through that again but I just- I miss you so much, I don‘t know what to do! And now you‘re here and I swear I‘ve been waiting for a moment like this and-,“ he stopped for a second, heavy and shaky breaths filling the silence, „If giving up racing means you‘ll let me come back to you, I‘ll do it.“

Your teary eyes widened and you looked up at him again, staring into his. One could take it as an empty promise. But you knew better than anyone else that Lando wasn’t one to joke about racing, ever. “Lando you can’t just- I- I mean, racing? It didn‘t work before Lan I just- don‘t give up your dreams for me, please? You shouldn‘t, you have so much ahead of you still,“ you sighed out, every single part of your body overwhelmed like never before.

But Lando was certain. He traced every yet so small feature of your face and body with his eyes, and he knew in that exact moment that, no matter what, he could never lose you again. Not this time. Not when fate hat somehow brought you together once again, giving him a second chance to make it all better. Question was now if you’d let him have that second chance too.

He lifted his hand to gently wipe away the tear running down your cheek, having you lean into his familiar touch. “I’ll do it for you”, he said, and that was when you broke apart, legs feeling numb and wobbly suddenly. Tears streamed down your face as you took another step forward and he wrapped his arms around your body out of reflex, gently placing soft kisses on top of your head, tearing up as well as your cried into his chest.

Maybe it was bad, maybe you shouldn’t feel like this again, but you’ve never once after the breakup felt as at peace with yourself and your as you did now, even if you were in a loud and busy club, surrounded by drunk and high people. You managed to push them to the back of your mind, the familiar scent of Lando’s perfume calming your senses. It felt like home. Maybe he really did owe you something, and though you once were anguished because of it, you wouldn’t ever deprive him of the joy of racing. There would be a way through it without having to abandon any of your or his dreams. There must be if you want it to work out, and you were sure that this time, it would. And so was he.

Lando took you home with him that night, not before you shot your friend a quick text message, afraid she might think you were kidnapped or whatnot. You knew that you’d have to fly home again in two days. He knew that too, but there was no need to rush things anyway. You were still his and he was still yours, and that’s all that mattered for now. It’s gonna be weird explaining this to your friends and your family, but neither of you minded it as long as it meant you could be with each other again. You would have to talk things through and see how you’d manage the race weekends and the events and the media - but not now. Now, with you calmly and lightly snoring in his arms, he didn’t care about any of that, simply content with having you again.

He promised you before you drifted off into your tranquil slumber that he will make it right this time. He will be there for you no matter what, he will defend you and take you with him and show you off and love you like already should have done all these months ago. This time, he will put in the work and the appreciation and the effort, and then, you will finally be able to be the greatest.

❝ I’d like to mean it when I say I’m over you, but that’s still not true. ❞

taglist for part 2 of the greatest : @mrs-saturday @tylerstacobell @angeltroian @acesbakery @directioner5life @malynn @escuellasceramicdollie @strangetoadroadbat @norrisdriver @aliceisnuts @carlando4 @f1fantasys @no-144444 @belivisa @callsignwidow @cruzgrecia @ifsoniacouldfly @wony6ung @hurtblossom @faeriepigeons @interlagos @xnatqq @fanficweasley @youreintheclubb @chaimaarouaine11 @idgasb @cruzgrecia @madstxo @trisharee (basically everyone who commented vv sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged!)